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LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
PHILLIPS BROOKS
BY
ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN
Professor in the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge
Wt& portraits ano ^Illustration*
VOLUME II
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET
1900
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY
ALEXANDER V. G. ALLEN
WILLIAM G. BROOKS, ELIZABETH W. BROOKS, JOHN C. BROOKS
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
pao:',
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
18G9-1872.
Trinity Church. The Reception in Boston. Contempo-
raneous Comments on Phillips Brooks's Preaching.
Record of Work in the First Three Years 1
CHAPTER II.
18G9-1872.
Extracts from Correspondence and from Note-Books.
Social Life. The Summer Abroad. Formation of the
Clericus Club. Destruction of Trinity Church in the
Boston Fire 35
CHAPTER III.
1873-1874.
Ecclesiastical Controversies. Relation to the Evangeli-
cal School. Extracts from Correspondence. The Sum-
mer Abroad. Death of Frederick Brooks 72
CHAPTER IV.
1873-1877.
Services in Huntington Hall. Extracts from Note-
Books. Method of preparing Sermons. Essay on Cour-
age. Contemporaneous Accounts of Phillips Brooks as
a Preacher. Testimony of Principal Tulloch .... 101
CHAPTER V.
1873-1877.
The Building of the New Trinity Church. The Motives
in its Construction. The Consecration Services . . . 12-4
CHAPTER VI.
1877-1879.
Extracts from Correspondence. Invitation to preach
for Mr. Moody. Summer Abroad. Sermon at West-
vi CONTENTS
minster Abbey. Harvard University confers the
Degree of Doctor of Divinity. Comments on the Gen-
eral Convention. Visit of Dean Stanley to America.
Illness and Death of William Gray Brooks 146
CHAPTER VII.
1877-1878.
Lectures on Preaching. First Volume of Sermons. The
Teaching of Religion. The Pulpit and Popular Skepti-
cism 174
CHAPTER VIII.
1879.
The Bohlen Lectures on the Influence of Jesus .... 209
CHAPTER IX.
1879-1880.
Visit to Philadelphia. Convention Sermon. Correspond-
ence. Death of his Mother. Sermon before the
Queen of England. Westminster Abbey. The New
Rectory 241
CHAPTER X.
1881.
The Call to Harvard University as Preacher and Profes-
sor of Christian Ethics. Extracts from Correspondence 276
CHAPTER XL
1881-1882.
Memorial Sermon on Dr. Vinton. Death of Dean Stanley.
Speeches at Church Congress. Second Volume of
Sermons. The Stanley Memorial. Death of Dr. Stone.
Request for Leave of Absence for a Year 305
CHAPTER XII.
1882.
Plans for the Year Abroad. Germany. Correspondence.
Religious Convictions. Extracts from Note-Book and
from Journal of Travel 329
CONTENTS vii
CHAPTER XIII.
December, 1882-March, 1883.
India. Letters and Extracts from Journal 383
CHAPTER XIV.
May-July, 1883.
The Journey from India. The Visit to Spain. Reception
in England. Visit to Tennyson. Letters. Extracts
from Journal 417
CHAPTER XV.
September-December, 1883.
The Return to Boston. Extracts from Sermons. Address
on Luther. Correspondence. Extracts from Journal 441
CHAPTER XVI.
1869-1892.
Theology. Tendencies of the Age. Freedom of Inquiry.
Authority and Conscience. Orthodoxy. Freedom
through Dogma. Progress. Tolerance. The New
Theology. Dangers of Freedom. The Bible. The
Prayer Book. Creeds. Anglicanism. The Incarna-
tion. The Trinity. The New Theism. Pantheism.
Miracles. Sin. Endless Punishment. The Atone-
ment. Emphasis on the Will. Supernatural Exist-
ences. Mysticism. Morality 481
CHAPTER XVII.
1884-1885.
Extracts from Letters. Visit to Washington. The Old
House at North Andover. Theatre-Going The New-
ton Controversy. Missions. Latin School Address.
Degree of D. D. conferred by Oxford University.
Sermon at Cambridge University. Extracts from Note-
Book 54G
CHAPTER XVIII.
1886.
Portraits of Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty. Mis-
apprehensions of his Position. Essay on Biography.
viii CONTENTS
Election as Assistant Bishop of Pennsylvania. Visit to
California. Abolition of Compulsory Attendance on
Religious Services at Harvard. North Andover.
Chautauqua Address on Literature and Life. Death
of Richardson. Fourth Volume of Sermons. Protest
against changing the Name of the Episcopal Church . . 591
CHAPTER XIX.
1887.
Incidents in Parish Life. Invitation to deliver the
Bampton Lectures. Extracts from Note-Books. Ser-
mons at Faneuil Hall. St. Andrew's Mission Church.
Tenth Anniversary of the Consecration of Trinity
Church. Sermon at Andover. Summer in Europe.
Illness. Correspondence 644
CHAPTER XX.
1888.
Railway Accident in Philadelphia. Incidents of Parish
Life. Lenten Services. Correspondence. Sentiment
and Sentimentality. Comments on " Robert Elsmere."
Thanksgiving Sermon 670
CHAPTER XXL
1889.
Watch Night. Occasional Addresses. Lenten Services
at Trinity Church. Illness. Summer in Japan.
Extracts from Note-Books. The General Convention.
Social and Political Reforms. The Evangelical Alli-
ance. Correspondence 699
CHAPTER XXII.
1890.
Speech at the Chamber of Commerce. Lenten Addresses
in Trinity Church, New York. Change in Manner of
Preaching. Correspondence. Address at the Church
Congress. Thanksgiving Sermon 729
CHAPTER XXIII.
1859-1893.
Characteristics. Reminiscences. Anecdotes. Parish
Ministry. Estimates 762
CONTENTS ix
CHAPTER XXIV.
1891.
Lent at Trinity Church. Noon Lectures at St. Paul's.
Election to the Episcopate. The Controversy follow-
ing the Election. Extracts from Correspondence . . 817
CHAPTER XXV.
1891-1892.
Consecration as Bishop. The Church Congress at Wash-
ington. Administrative Capacity. Illness. Lenten
Addresses. Union Service on Good Friday. Conven-
tion Address. Correspondence. Summer Abroad.
English Volume of Sermons. Return to Boston. St.
Andrew's Brotherhood. The General Convention in
Baltimore. Death of Tennyson. Correspondence . . 873
1893.
Conclusion 930
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Phillip9 Brook8 at the Age of Fifty, from a photograph by
H. G. Smith. Photogravure Frontispiece
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Thirty-nine, from a photo-
graph by F. Gutekunst. Photogravure 72
Facsimile of the Plan of a Sermon 114
Trinity Church Exterior from the North 144
Trinity Church Interior 204
Rectory of Trinity Church, 233 Clarendon St., Boston . 274
Facsimile of a Letter to Charles H. Parker, Esq. . . . 298
Trinity Church Exterior from the West 33G
Trinity Church Exterior from the East 438
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Forty-nine, from a photo-
graph by the Notman Photograph Co. Photogravure .... 500
House at North Andover, Exterior 552
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty, from a photograph by
H. G. Smith. Photogravure 596
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty, from the portrait by
Mrs. Henry Whitman. Photogravure 664
Rev. Arthur Brooks 726
Rectory of Trinity Church : The Study 794
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty, photographed by H. G.
Smith. Photogravure 848
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty-five, from a photo-
graph by Pach Brothers. Photogravure 886
Phillips Brooks at the Age of Fifty-six, from a photograph
by Elliott & Fry. Photogravure 936
THE LIFE AND LETTERS
OF
PHILLIPS BROOKS
CHAPTER I
1869-1872
TRINITY CHURCH. THE RECEPTION IN BOSTON. CONTEMPO-
RANEOUS COMMENTS ON PHILLIPS BROOKS 's PREACHING.
RECORD OF WORK IN THE FIRST THREE YEARS
Phillips Brooks began his ministry in Trinity Church,
Boston, on Sunday, October 31, preaching in the morning
from the text, St. John ix. 4, 5 : "I must work the works
of him that sent me, while it is day : the night cometh, when
no man can work; " and in the afternoon from St. John iv.
34: "My meat is to do the will of him that sent me, and to
finish his work." From this moment began the long period
of twenty-two years until he resigned his rectorship. During
these years he knew himself and thought of himself primarily
and almost solely as the rector of Trinity Church. He con-
centrated his energies in making the church united and
strong. He lavished upon it the wealth of his affection.
He believed strongly in the corporate life of a parish, an
organism of which he himself was a vital part. Trinity
Church he believed had a great future before it, as it had
also a great past behind it. To help it to realize its pos-
sibilities was the single task to which he devoted his powers.
A few words about its situation and its history will make
more clear the picture of the work he was to do.
The church edifice then stood on Summer Street, near
vol. n
i PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Washington Street, one of the relics of an earlier Boston when
Summer Street and the adjacent territory was the scene of
fine residences with their ample gardens. The church had
been built in 1829, and though robbed somewhat of its im-
pressiveness by the change in its surroundings, it still pos-
sessed an air of distinction and solid majesty. It belonged
to a style of architecture which has since passed away. It
was built of granite with a massive battlemented tower, and
at the time of its erection was regarded as one of the finest
churches in the city. Mr. Brooks has thus described it
in his historical sermon on Trinity Church, published in
1877:
It was a noble building in its day. It was one of the first of
the Gothic buildings of this country, which were built after
church architecture had begun to waken and aspire, and few that
followed it equalled its dignity and calm impressiveness. The
lighter and more fantastic styles of building sprang up in the
city. The timber spires that made believe they were stone
leaped up with unnatural levity into the sky; the cheap stone
sculpture covered and deformed great, feeble fronts ; the reign of
imitation came; and in the midst of all of them Trinity stood,
in its exterior, at least, strong, genuine, solid, with its great
rough stones, its broad bold bands of sculpture, its battlemented
tower, like a great castle of truth, grim, no doubt, and profoundly
serious, but yet able to win from those who worshipped there for
years an affectionate confidence and even tender yearning for
love.
Trinity Church in Boston resembles to some extent Trinity
Church in New York, as being the centre and home of Epis-
copal traditions and prestige. Its organization went back to
the year 1729. Like the old North Church on Salem
Street, it was an offshoot from King's Chapel, which was
the first Episcopal Church in Boston, and had been founded
in 1689. But King's Chapel had ceased to be an Episcopal
Church, and the neighborhood of old Christ Church had
changed until it had lost its ancient influence, so that Trinity
Church was left as the stronghold of Episcopacy in Boston.
During the trying days of the Revolution it had remained
open to its worshippers when most of the Episcopal churches
Jet- 33"3 6 1 TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 3
were closed. When the alternatives had been presented of
closing its doors or of omitting the petition, in the Litany, for
King George and all the royal family, it had chosen the latter
with the hope that it would be "more for the interest and
cause of Episcopacy, and the least evil of the two, to omit a
part of the Litany than to shut up the church." It shows the
tenacity of the corporate life of the church, that many of its
worshippers were the descendants of the families who first
constituted it. They were conservative, holding by the tradi-
tions, cherishing the names of past rectors, among whom
Dr. Parker, afterwards Bishop of Massachusetts, and Dr.
Gardiner were men prominent in the social and civic life of
Boston.
It seemed to many incongruous that Phillips Brooks, the
heir of a long line of Puritan ministers going back to the
settlement of the colony, and of eminent Puritan laymen
honored for their devotion to the "Standing Order," should
be the rector of Trinity Church, with its reversal of these
traditions, representing what seemed in New England an
alien church, indifferent to the highest ideal of Christian
truth. But that question had been settled for him when his
mother made the transition from Puritanism to Episcopacy
while he was an infant, a migration which caused her
many searchings of heart, but which she never lived to
regret. As for Phillips Brooks, he did not feel the situation
to be incongruous. He had been brought up on the Church
Catechism; he knew no other church; he was loyal to it
while yet admiring and applauding the history of his ances-
tors. He studied the records of Trinity Church, making
himself familiar with American history in the eighteenth
century and with the process of its religious thought, in
order to connect himself more closely with the life of the
church of which he was the minister.
Trinity Church had again shown its loyalty and devotion
to the cause of Episcopacy when, in 1842, Dr. Manton East-
burn had been elected bishop of the diocese of Massachusetts.
The diocese being unable to provide a salary for the bishop,
it had called him to be its rector, and thus relieved the situa-
4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
tion. The endowment known as the Greene Foundation sup-
ported from this time an assistant minister, who divided with
the bishop the burden of preaching and other parochial min-
istrations', always officiating in the bishop's absence on his
episcopal ministrations. Among these assistant ministers
had been the Rev. Thomas M. Clark, now the Bishop of
Khode Island, the late Kev. John Cotton Smith, and Dr.
Henry C. Potter, the present Bishop of New York. But this
arrangement had not worked well. It was a case of divided
responsibility. The assistant ministers were not free to carry
out any projects of church extension, while the bishop was
also hampered by the double burden he was carrying. When
in 1869 the bishop resigned the rectorship, it was felt by
all that a new era had dawned in the history of Trinity
Church.
The new rector brought with him to Boston the ways he
had learned from Dr. Vinton, and which he had put into
successful practice in Philadelphia, the Wednesday even-
ing lecture, the Saturday evening Bible class, and the com-
municants' meeting in preparation for the Lord's Supper.
These were the methods of the Evangelical school in the
church. Things were beginning to change at this time, new
modes of parish activity were becoming popular, and a com-
plicated machinery of what was called "church work" was
coming into vogue. Much of it was adopted by Mr. Brooks,
though without display or ostentation. He was equal to any
one in appropriating methods of activity and in administer-
ing them wisely. But he preferred the Wednesday evening
lecture to the observance of Saints' Days, as being a fixed
occasion in the week, while the latter came irregularly and
were in danger of being neglected. Thus Wednesday even-
ing became a sacred occasion. One of the first fruits of
his ministry in Boston was to find the chapel of Trinity
Church too small for the purpose, and calling for an imme-
diate enlargement. But this did not meet the need, and the
service was transferred to the church, where every seat was
occupied.
Among the arrangements he projected at once for increas-
jet. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 5
ing the activity of the parish and creating a sense of respon-
sibility for those without was a mission on West Cedar Street,
where a Sunday-school was gathered, under the charge of a
theological student from the Cambridge seminary. There
was at this time an Episcopal Church, St. Mark's, on West
Newton Street, which, having fallen into weakness on account
of the changing population, was no longer able to maintain a
rector. lie proposed that this church edifice should be pur-
chased and become a dependency of Trinity Church, and that
the income of the Greene Foundation be devoted to the sup-
port of its minister. This project was carried out after some
delay, and the Rev. Charles C. Tiffany, now Archdeacon of
New York, was called in 1871 to be its rector, and assist-
ant minister of Trinity Church on the Greene Foundation.
These things are mentioned as showing the energy of the new
rector, and the large spirit of religious enterprise with which
he began his parish ministry in Boston. But these yield in
importance to another scheme, which he broached to the par-
ish during the first year of his incumbency, 1870, that the
church should be removed to another part of the city, where
it could do a greater work and better meet the needs of its
parishioners. There was some opposition to the scheme, even
among his warmest friends and supporters, for it meant a
violent uprooting of sacred associations. In the vaults be-
neath the church lay the remains of relatives and friends.
There were other difficulties to be overcome. But Mr. Brooks
continued to urge the removal as an indispensable condition
of progress, until the plan was approved by the wardens and
vestry. To overcome opposition, to create sympathy and
agreement, and even enthusiasm, to recommend himself to
the confidence of men of affairs in so important an undertak-
ing, is an illustration of the many-sided capacity of the new
rector.
It took time to carry out this large plan. All through
the years 1870 and 1871 it was the one foremost purpose in
Mr. Brooks's mind, on which he concentrated his energies
and his interests. He was studying the city of Boston and
the possible directions of its growth, in order to the most
6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
available site. Before any other steps could be taken, it
was necessary to gain the permission of the legislature to
sell the old edifice. On December 3, 1870, the first meeting
of the Proprietors of Trinity Church was held to consider the
question of removal. Early in the next year Mr. Brooks
appeared before a committee of the legislature and stated
the reasons why the removal of the church was desired :
I think there is necessity for a removal of Trinity Church for
the best interests of the parish, and a necessity which is more
and more strong constantly. There has been a growing convic-
tion with me ever since I have been rector of the parish that it
would be necessary to move. The reasons are simply these: the
entire change of the population in Boston which has removed all
the residences from Trinity Church, leaving literally no residences
within that region round the church which is usually considered
the parochial line. All our congregation are therefore obliged to
come from a great distance, which looks badly for us in two
ways; in the first place by rendering their attendance unstable
and preventing the church from accumulating any permanent
parish ; for a family coming from a great distance is loosely at-
tached, and unless it is in some way geographically connected with
the parish it cannot be counted upon to sustain the church. The
instability and lack of adhesion and difficulty in conducting any
of the educational and charitable work of the parish, arising from
teachers and taught residing at very great distance, is one reason
that has forced itself upon me. These difficulties are increasing
every day. Every removal that has taken place I may say
almost every removal since I have been in the parish has been
a removal to a greater distance from the church. Therefore look-
ing forward a few years, we can see how much the present diffi-
culties are likely to be increased. Then there are difficulties that
attach to the location of the church, the nearness of a busi-
ness street, and the extreme noisiness during the Lent services.
These have been much greater this season than last season. Then
in addition to these two reasons there are the very serious ones
attaching to the accommodations of Trinity Church, which are
entirely incapable of remedy in our present location. The
church originally was simply a structure for the church proper
and since then there has been added a Sunday-school or lecture
room, and this is the only room we have at present. We have
no rooms for class instruction and for carrying on the work of the
parish. Our lecture room is inadequate for our lecture-room pur-
jet. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 7
poses. For this reason I think almost any one who is associated
with the work of the church, who is engaged in the actual chari-
table and educational work of the church, feels the necessity of
a change of location ; and without knowing personally the opinion
of each one of those who are so engaged, I should say that with
three or four exceptions they all favor the removal.
The permission to sell having been granted by the legisla-
ture, it was accepted by the Proprietors of Trinity Church.
The question of the new site was not an easy one, and delib-
erations proceeded slowly. Not until the end of the year
1871 was the lot purchased on which the present Trinity
Church now stands. Mr. Brooks was at first strongly at-
tracted by the lot on the corner of Beacon and Charles streets
facing the Common. But the wisdom of the final choice
needs no justification. On March 6, 1872, the building
committee was created, consisting of George M. Dexter,
Charles Henry Parker, Robert C. Winthrop, Martin Brim-
mer, Charles R. Codman, John C. Ropes, John G. Cushing,
Charles G. Morrill, Robert Treat Paine, Jr., Stephen G.
Deblois, and William P. Blake. The committee voted at
once to notify Mr. Brooks of all meetings and their readi-
ness to receive any suggestions from him. Six competitors
were invited to furnish plans, and in June the late H. H.
Richardson, of the firm of Gambrill & Richardson, was
chosen as the architect. "The building committee were at
once impressed," writes Mr. Robert Treat Paine, in his final
report, "with the importance of purchasing the triangle of
land which now forms the whole Huntington Avenue front
of our estate. An appeal was made to the parish for gifts
of money, and a generous response enabled the committee to
make the purchase." The additional amount thus called for
was $75,000, but the contribution reached -$100,000. "The
church," continues Mr. Paine, "thus completed its title to
the whole domain of over an acre, enclosed by four public
streets, and making the church visible in all directions. So
far as the committee know, this is the only site of the Back
Bay where these advantages could have been secured."
Plans for the new church had already been drawn by Mr.
8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Eichardson, when the enlargement of the estate by the pur-
chase of the triangle called for their entire remodelling.
It was while the building committee were engaged in this
study for a new design that the great Boston fire, on Novem-
ber 10, 1872, swept away the old Trinity Church on Sum-
mer Street. Whatever indifference or opposition there had
been to the removal of the church could now exist no longer.
A new interest and enthusiasm united the parish in the
determination to make the new edifice a grander one than
the old had been. The building committee appointed an
executive committee out of its numbers, Messrs. Eobert
Treat Paine, C. H. Parker, and C. W. Galloupe, "with
full powers to prosecute with all despatch the erection of
the new church." Mr. Richardson encouraged them to
think that in two years the new edifice would be completed.
In this hope and expectation the large hall in the Institute
of Technology on Boylston Street was hired for the Sunday
services. The expectation was not fulfilled; it was more
than twice two years before they saw the consummation of
their desires. But meantime in this secular hall, with no
accessories or associations of sacred worship, Mr. Brooks
entered upon a still more powerful phase of his ministry,
under the influence of which Trinity Church not only re-
mained united, but received large additions to its member-
ship.
When Phillips Brooks came to Boston it was his study to
be the rector of Trinity Church, to carry out the ideal of a
parish minister as he conceived it in all its scope and in all
the detail of its relationships. To give himself up to the
work of preaching the gospel of Christ to the congregation
over whom he was set to minister was his single purpose. To
this end he sought to know the people to whom he preached,
to study their needs, to share their joys and sorrows, to lead
them into larger conceptions of the mission of a parish to
the church and to the world. No one could have written the
"Lectures on Preaching" who was not first and foremost
and always the parish minister, devoted to his people, giving
them of his best, and in the relationship of mutual love and
*t. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 9
service finding his satisfaction and reward. He does not
indeed record any vow of exclusive faithfulness to this special
purpose, but that it was his purpose, his single aim, is writ-
ten on all his work after coming to Boston, and finds expres-
sion in unmistakable manner. During the year before he
came to Boston, while the call was under his consideration,
he must have been solemnly deliberating with himself and
reaching a determination as to his line and method of work.
We must therefore note at this point a significant change
and epoch in his ministry. In Philadelphia he had appeared
almost as a reformer and agitator, with a work to do outside
the pulpit, which rivalled in importance and popular interest
his work as a preacher. He had thrown himself into the
cause of the abolition of slavery with an intensity and rare
eloquence which was not surpassed by any one. He had
espoused the cause of the emancipated slaves, pleading in
most impassioned manner for their right to suffrage in order
to their complete manhood. In the interest of the Freed-
men's Aid Society he had made stirring platform addresses
in the greater cities of Pennsylvania and in New York.
He was more prominently identified than any other citizen in
Philadelphia with the local issue whether the negroes should
be allowed to ride in the street cars. From his activity in
these moral causes he had become as widely known as by his
eloquence in the pulpit.
But from the time when he came to Boston he ceased to
be identified with any special reform. There were others,
who, as soon as the war was over, had addressed themselves to
the cause of the working people, seeking the redress of social
evils, enlightening the popular mind, and securing the needed
legislation for the amelioration of social burdens. Phillips
Brooks might easily have followed in the same direction. It
was in him to have become a reformer, and to have used the
pulpit and the platform as his levers of influence. But he
did not take this role. He gave himself to his parish, and
exclusively to the preacher's task, and for seven years he
was supremely interested in the work of building the new
Trinity Church as if that should be the crown of his labors.
io PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
We have seen that his father was dismayed when his son
devoted his strength to what seemed like preaching politics;
how he earnestly dissuaded him from carrying politics into
the pulpit. The advice may not have been without its in-
fluence. But apart from this a man like Phillips Brooks could
not have had his Philadelphia experience without studying
its bearing upon his work as a preacher. As he studied it,
he saw that the two functions were incompatible, and that
of the two the mission of the preacher of the gospel of Christ
was the higher, the more important, the more far reaching
and fundamental in its influence, the primary condition of
all successful enduring reforms. It must not be supposed for
a moment that he was not interested in every social or moral
issue which aimed at the improvement of man. His interest
was recognized and presupposed. He never failed when he
was called upon to advocate any good cause. He sympa-
thized with those who devoted their lives to such ends. On
occasions in his own pulpit, and especially on Thanksgiving
Day, he uttered himself freely on the questions of the hour.
But he did not identify himself exclusively with any of them,
nor work for them in direct manner, but always indirectly
through the power of Christian truth, brought home to the
heart by the preaching of the gospel. Of all the cities in the
land, Boston, more than any other, was associated with ideal
issues and moral reforms. It might be almost called the
home of reformers since the days when the preparation began
for the American Revolution. It puzzled Boston people,
therefore, when Phillips Brooks came among them and began
at once to exert his magic influence. They found it impos-
sible to label or classify him. He was neither a moral, a
social, nor a religious reformer. It is amusing now to look
back at the efforts made to define his position by critical
analysis, or by comparison with other men. Boston at last
accepted him for himself without attempt at analysis or
criticism. But in the earlier years it was not so.
One cannot think of Boston without thinking of Unita-
rianism. When the schism took place, in the first part of
the nineteenth century, which divided the Congregational
-*t. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 11
churches into Orthodox and Liberal, the latter body carried
with it the social prestige, the wealth, the intellectual culture
of Boston. It was represented by Harvard College also, and
by a line of men eminent in literature, Emerson and Haw-
thorne, Longfellow and Holmes and Lowell, and many others.
It had given birth to two great preachers and reformers,
Channing and Theodore Parker, who had added to the fame
of Boston by their eloquence, their high character, and their
large influence. Phillips Brooks had now come to take his
position by divine right among the greatest and best of her
children. Her literary men recognized him at once as enti-
tled to an equal place. There could be no doubt of his great-
ness, but what was he, and how should he be described ?
At first there was an inclination on the part of the Uni-
tarians to claim him as their own. Such power, such genius,
marked him as of necessity one who, though he might not be
conscious of it, must be at heart a Unitarian. They were un-
familiar with the breadth of the national Church of England ;
they were indifferent to Maurice and Stanley and Arnold,
Kingsley, F. W. Robertson, Thirlwall and Tait and Temple,
who represented liberal theology in the English Church, with
whom Phillips Brooks was affiliated in spirit, and at whose
feet he had sat as a pupil. Archbishop Tillotson and the
liberal theologians of the English Church in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries they had long since forgotten.
They could not believe that such things were indigenous in
the Anglican Church, having their roots in the Reformation
and in the Book of Common Prayer. However it was, the
Unitarians flocked to the new preacher, the man with a
message to which they responded as divine. Against this
disposition on the part of Unitarians to "attend the earnest
and attractive ministry of Phillips Brooks," the "Liberal
Christian," a Unitarian organ in Boston, gave a most em-
phatic protest :
We hold the earnestness and sincerity of those Unitarians who
desert their own worship and their own laborious pastors to swell
the tide of hearers of Orthodox Liberals at a very cheap value.
There is a certain meanness, and time-serving, and cowardly
12 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
spirit, and a carelessness about intellectual and moral distinctions
which is discouraging and deserves strong rebuke. (1870.)
The "Liberal Christian " was indeed very much in earnest
in its protest, refusing to admit a communication in reply,
which extenuated the fault of the culprits.
The editor of the "Christian Register" (Unitarian) went
with the crowd to listen and to know for himself what these
things meant. He was inclined to be severe and prepared to
notice flaws, yet he was also determined to be fair and to get
at the truth. "While he admired the noble presence of the
preacher, he found defects in the voice, and thought the
rapidity with which he read the service somewhat irreverent.
He was on the watch for any "omissions " in the service, but
could not detect them. This was his report to his readers :
The text of the sermon was "She hath done what she could."
The first half of the sermon was satisfactory and impressive, that
human responsibility was limited by human power and oppor-
tunity. Every man, however weak and humble, has some thing
especially appointed for him to do, and the harmony of the uni-
verse is incomplete so long as he neglects his task. . . .
All this was exceedingly impressive. He spoke with such
fervor and unaffected earnestness that we felt quickened and up-
lifted by his appeals in behalf of our doing our best, and making
the most of our chances in life. Then came the only unsatisfac-
tory passage of the discourse. It seemed to be assumed that as
sinners we must not only repent, but rely upon Christ's atoning
blood. No particular theory of the atonement was insisted upon,
but in some way we must feel that we are ransomed and bought
with a price.
The room was growing darker, and we became less and less
sure that we understood Mr. Brooks perfectly. But we were
quite convinced that while he was only mildly "Evangelical " and
used, mainly, Scriptural expressions that admit of a Unitarian
interpretation, he left the plain path in which he had been walk-
ing for the devious ways of theological subtleties. Still the
general effect of the sermon was excellent, and we came away
deeply grateful for the most that we had heard, with a new un-
derstanding of Mr. Brooks's deserved popularity; and fully
believing that he is as rational and independent as an honest man
can possibly be while remaining within the Episcopal Church.
The whole atmosphere about him was far superior in simplicity
*"". 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 13
and manliness to anything that we had ever known in his
denomination.
"If the Rev. Mr. Phillips Brooks," remarked the "Con-
gregationalist," an Orthodox paper, commenting on this
report, "has trembled and felt weakened as to the security
of his position in this city, he must now take heart and dis-
miss his fears. The editor of the ' Christian Register ' hav-
ing been to hear him has come away ' fully believing that he is
as rational and independent as an honest man can possibly
be while remaining within the Episcopal Church.' These
things are not recovered from the forgotten years for the
purpose of illustrating the amenities of religious controversy,
but in order to reproduce the moment when Phillips Brooks
came to Boston. It recalls the picture of Boston, or of any
Massachusetts town, in the colonial days, when a stranger
entered its precincts. Before he could be accepted, he must
be questioned and made to give an account of himself. The
inquiring looks now directed upon the new preacher, the
sharp criticism to which he was subjected, were simply the
inevitable Boston greeting. It was Boston's way, that
was all. Philadelphia had a different way. It had not the
suspicion of the stranger as such. It knew a good thing
when it saw it, and did not spoil its enjoyment by overanx-
ious questioning. It was not perhaps so easy a thing for
Boston to bow before Phillips Brooks as it had been for
Philadelphia. Boston is a city with peculiarities of its own,
and they are marked and strong. But on this point let
another speak, one whom Boston loved and revered :
Shall I say [writes Dr. Channing] a word of evil of this good
city of Boston? Among all its virtues it does not abound in a
tolerant spirit. The yoke of opinion is a heavy one, often crush-
ing individuality of judgment and action. A censorship, un-
friendly to free exertion, is exercised over the pulpit as well as
over concerns. No city in the world is governed so little by a
police, and no city so much by mutual inspection and what is
called public sentiment. We stand more in awe of one another
than most people. Opinion is less individual or runs more into
masses, and often rules with a rod of iron. 1
1 Works, vol. ii. p. 265, ed. 1845.
i 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
It was not only the Unitarians that had questions to ask.
The Orthodox or Trinitarian Congregationalists were puzzled.
The Unitarians watched him to see whether he were Ortho-
dox, and the Orthodox were curious to see whether he were
a Unitarian in disguise. At this time the antagonism be-
tween these two parties was strenuous and even bitter, for
the painful associations of the schism which Channing had
led were still fresh in the memory of many then living. The
influence of Theodore Parker had only intensified these reli-
gious antipathies. Parker had divided the Unitarians into
two wings, the conservative and the progressive ; but he had
also aggravated the prejudices of the Orthodox against the
whole body of Unitarians by his denial of miracles and the
supernatural, by his criticism of Scripture and rejection of
its external authority. But his was on the whole the grow-
ing tendency in Boston. He was a transcendentalist, build-
ing on the authority of an inner light, finding God and im-
mortality and religion in the natural instinct of the human
soul, and needing no external authority, whether of Scrip-
ture or prophet or person of Christ, as the sanction of reli-
gious truth. But there was also something better in Parker
which would be apparent when the storm of controversy had
died away. It was then with dark suspicions in their minds
that Orthodox critics approached the new preacher. They,
too, were not quite satisfied. The trouble with both these
classes of critics was that they went to their inquiry with
formal tests of doctrines or dogmas uppermost in their minds,
while the preacher was in another atmosphere, thinking not
of doctrines but of life.
The Episcopalians [says the Boston correspondent of the Chris-
tian Intelligencer] have a new light and popular preacher, Rev.
Phillips Brooks, late of Philadelphia. Before coming here he
had achieved a high reputation in the pulpit, and as a liberal in
doctrine and churchly rites. However true it may be we know
not, but he is said to occupy about the same theological position
as Robertson of England. We heard him on Sunday evening,
and he did what too many Orthodox ministers do in this region,
threw out a "sop " to the Unitarians. His sermon was unex-
ceptionable in almost every particular. It was, in fact, the best
MT . 33-36} TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 15
sermon on the whole we have heard here for some time. It was
practical, written in a clear and forcible style, with passages of
wonderful beauty and eloquence. It was delivered with that
impetuous earnestness that distinguishes certain nervous natures.
No one could listen to it without being moved to live for God.
But a fly was in the ointment, needlessly there. He went out of
his way to say, "I don't believe in total depravity," and then
added that he believed there was something good in all men,
giving the impression to those who did not know better that the
doctrine known as "total depravity " embraced the view that
every man is as bad as lie can be, or is utterly destitute of what is
good. But still he intimated that there is no recuperative ele-
ment in the soul, an important feature, however, of the discarded
doctrine. Of course all liberals delight in such statements or
caricatures, and then quote them as proof of the effect of their
liberalism in modifying evangelical doctrines. Mr. Brooks ought
to know just what total depravity as a theological doctrine
involves, and while the term is confessedly objectionable as now
interpreted, yet, like many legal and medical terms, can be
explained.
The popular verdict on the preaching of Phillips Brooks
was more important than the judgment of the critics. There
had been no similar event in the history of Boston which
created such excitement, such widespread interest, such a
veritable sensation. He stepped at once into the same rela-
tive position as he held in Philadelphia. Trinity Church on
Summer Street was crowded with eager hearers. It was
almost unseemly the way in which the people claimed him
for their own, regardless of the privileges of those whose
special minister he was. They came from every direction,
feeling that they must be there. Precedents and vested
rights, distinctions of pewholders, the authority of the sex-
ton, these seemed like an impertinence when Phillips Brooks
was to preach. The true gospel of Christ, the word of life,
must in the nature of the case be offered alike to all, without
distinction. It was a trying situation for the stately, deco-
rous parishioners, who had associated worship with calmness
and dignity, and with ample accommodation in the high-
backed, luxurious pews. It was no slight inconvenience and
annoyance when they sought access to their pews to find them
1 6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
occupied by strangers, whose apologies did not relieve but
only magnified the grievance. Mr. Dillon, the sexton, to
whom it fell to manage these things, strove to rise to the
occasion and struggled to meet an emergency so wholly
unlike anything he had hitherto known in his long adminis-
tration. He tried to sort the people who presented themselves
for admission, sending some to the galleries, and allowing
others, whom he judged more fit, to occupy the waste spaces
in the pews on the floor, but his expedients were futile. 1
There were too many seeking to be admitted, that was
the simple difficulty. There was room perhaps for a thou-
sand people, and the demands were for more than double the
accommodation. The people became indignant and vented
their anger on Mr. Dillon, "the grim and truculent sexton,
who acted as if he owned the church." Complaints found
their way to the newspapers, with accounts of the "most
disgraceful scenes ever enacted within the walls of a Protest-
ant church." Many who came were unfamiliar with the
ways of the Episcopal Church; they regarded the morning
and evening prayer as something to be tolerated, " intro-
ductory exercises " before the sermon could be reached. They
rejoiced at least that "Mr. Brooks ran it off so rapidly."
Mr. Brooks did what he could to facilitate matters. The
pews in the galleries were declared free, and after pew-
holders had taken their seats the church was thrown open to
all. But this was no temporary evil to be cured by any
expedient. It lasted as long as Phillips Brooks remained
the rector of Trinity Church. Bishop Eastburn continued
for a while to attend the services at Trinity. But he was
not accustomed to such excitement, or to see people flocking
in crowds to the proclamation of the gospel. He was not
altogether sure that the new preacher could be "sound in his
views." He betook himself to the roomier spaces of St.
Paul's.
1 In Mr. Dillon' s view of the situation, the end to he aimed at was to reduce
the numbers who sought admittance to the church. " He once came to me in
the vestry room," said Mr. Brooks, " to tell me of a method he had devised for
this purpose, ' When a young man and a young woman come together, I sepa-
rate them ; ' and he expected me to approve the fiendish plan."
*t. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 17
Many of those who went to hear Mr. Brooks for the first
time were so impressed that they must needs give utterance,
in newspaper articles, to the emotions which stirred them.
Some went prepared to watch closely and see vividly in order
to get the material for a striking literary report. There are
in these early years at Trinity many of these pen-and-ink
sketches of the preacher and the wonderful effect of his
preaching, descriptions of the church and the congregations,
and the accessories which made the scene impressive. All
agree in being compelled to describe the preacher himself as
though that were a part of the message.
The door of the anteroom opens, and Mr. Brooks appears in
his white flowing robes. There is something almost boyish, yet
beautifully sweet and earnest as well, in his face and manner.
He is emphatically a manly man, with no sentimental, morbid,
sickly notions of life. He is a "muscular Christian " and believes
in work and stout-hearted endeavor. And he walks through the
earthly and tangible as beholding the things that are invisible and
heavenly. All this and more we find in his strong spiritual
countenance.
The old building [according to another report] seems the fit-
ting place of worship for the solid men of Boston. There is an
air of ancient respectability about it. . . . The deep roomy pews,
and thoughtfully padded, seem adjusted for sleeping, and though
seven can sit comfortably in them, if you humbly ask for the fifth
seat in some of them, beware of the lofty look and high-bred
scorn which seems to say, Are not the galleries free for negroes,
servants, and strangers ? . . . I shall have to let you in, I sup-
pose. Take that Prayer Book, and keep quiet; service has begun.
Don't you see Mr. Brooks?
Yes, we do see the Rev. Phillips Brooks, a tall, stout, power-
fully built man, with a smooth boyish face, and very near-sighted
eyes, which nevertheless, by the help of glasses, seem to search you
out in whatever dark corner you may be hidden. He is reading
the service with a thin voice and rapid, breathless, almost stutter-
ing delivery, and yet with a certain impulsive and pleading ear-
nestness that carries even Congregationalists on their knees and
takes them with him to the throne of grace.
To reproduce here the many comments upon Phillips
Brooks when he first made his appearance in Boston would
vol. n
1 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
be impossible, and yet to neglect them altogether would be
a loss to his biography. The time never came when people
tired of portraying him or of writing their impressions.
Those who wrote were not more eager to rehearse than were
the thousands, who had not heard or seen for themselves,
eager to read what was written. It is part of the story of his
life to give him in his relations with the great body of people
who heard him gladly, who were sure that something unknown
before in the history of the pulpit was now enacting, and that
it behooved them to catch and preserve each slightest accent,
as an almost sacred responsibility. Thus they loved to de-
scribe his appearance as though in this case the symmetry of
form and beauty of countenance were in some mysterious way
the counterpart of the spirit within, and nature had for once
succeeded in making the body the transparent revelation, the
harmonious accompaniment, of the immortal soul. Such was
the opinion of the many, but others dissented :
He is exceedingly portly and also very tall ; in bearing one of
the most commanding men of his day. He has a fine, well-pro-
portioned head, covered with a short growth of thick dark hair,
which he wears easily without careless indifference and also with-
out dainty niceness. ... A certain throwing of his head up and
a little to one side is his most prominent gesture ; and it is all the
more effective that it is not strictly elegant. There is nothing in
his voice, bearing, or look which can explain his almost unexampled
popularity. For popular he is almost beyond precedent.
He stands in the pulpit [says another writer] smooth-faced,
full-voiced, as self-reliant a man as ever occupied such a station.
He indulges in few gestures; he has no mannerisms. If, under
any circumstances, he might realize the popular conception of an
orator, he does not betray the possibilities here. He provokes
no attention to predominant spirituality by inferior vitality.
There is a splendid harmony of strength, bodily and mental,
which prevents the measurement of either. It is only when he is
out of his desk and level with his audience that you realize his
stature. In the lecture room or crowded street he stands like
Saul among the people. The well-balanced head and strong
shoulders draw your eyes at once. He dresses well, lives well,
and holds his own decidedly in social circles. . . . His power
^33-3^ TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 19
is not limited to his church ministrations, nor is he making him-
self known by some brilliant special development. It is the
whole man mentally, morally, and spiritually, leader, helper,
friend which is attaining such preeminence. But when he
preaches, you are carried away to the need of men and of your
own shortcomings, and have no present consciousness of the per-
sonality of the speaker. A transparent medium is the purest.
You do not think of Phillips Brooks till Phillips Brooks gets
through with his subject.
His manner of entering the church [says another observer] was
quite peculiar. He hurried in, sweeping his left arm in long
circuits and glancing quickly about and abruptly kneeling at the
altar. In selecting his places in the Prayer Book he continued
to glance nervously about. . . . And yet there was something
even then that interested one in him and gave assurances of his
sincerity. His complexion is dark, his forehead low, his face
full, and his figure and motions those of an overgrown lad ; and
yet in spite of all and through all there is a struggling for good-
ness and culture. . . . The sermon was a model, rapidly de-
livered and yet effectively, when the preacher had advanced far
enough to lose himself in it, and thrilling the hearer by every
word. . . . There was apparently as little aim at effect in the
preparation as in the pronouncing of the discourse, but it was
exquisitely written and every sentence was a blade, though wreathed
in flowers. The hearer was both transported and cut down,
delighted with the rhetoric that saluted his ear and regaled his
taste, and penetrated and solemnized by the truth with which he
was addressed.
Another listener goes to hear him at St. Mark's, West
Newton Street, one Sunday evening in midsummer, allowing
an ample half hour before the appointed time, only to find
the edifice already nearly filled, and the silent, steady stream
of worshippers appropriating every available spot with an
earnestness noticeable to the merest stranger, and this al-
though the heat is intense and the atmosphere almost stifling.
A stranger [he continues] cannot be long in doubt of the just-
ness of his popularity, as he enters in that unpretending manner
and goes instantly to his work, without a seeming thought of any-
thing but his duty as a worshipper. Look at the man ! Would
you not look at him twice in any surroundings ? All our previous
ideas of a pale, formal stereotyped Episcopal minister . . . are
so PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
put to flight at once and forever, as we are instantly magnetized
with the man's polished energy and the spirit he infuses into
every part of the service. With a physique the embodiment of
perfect health, you look in vain for any symptom of the spirit-
ualized consumptive symptoms that old-time people were wont to
regard as a sure advance towards saintship. A round, full,
smooth face, shadowed with massive eyebrows and lighted with
eyes of richest black, not flashing but deep, his whole expression
so free from guile and affectation, and every movement so full of
inexhaustible vitality, that he seems to retain all the wealth of a
pure, boyish nature, crystallized into perfect manhood.
Here are a few more descriptions of Phillips Brooks in the
pulpit and of his manner of preaching :
At last the order of evening prayer is concluded and the
preacher mounts the turret-like pulpit. He is clad in the plain
black gown, with a collar, vest, and necktie such as ordinary
mortals may wear; and carries a manuscript which his eyes,
intently following, scarcely leave from the smoothing out of the
first page to the turning of the last. While the choir are singing
the final verse of the preliminary hymn, he somewhat nervouslv
adjusts the tablet before him to his height and the lights at his
side to his eyes, and then stands motionless, gazing forth for a
moment with a pleasant and rather inquiring cast of countenance
over the congregation. . . . His sermon to-night is from Romans
vii. 22: "For I delight in the law of God after the inward
man." . . . The sermon is scarcely over thirty minutes long,
but is preached with so rapid an utterance that from the lips of
another it might take a third longer. It is founded upon an
exegesis which is novel, but its proposition commands assent, its
argument is strong, its tone is exhilarating, and one goes from it
pondering the oft-repeated question, What is the secret of Phillips
Brooks's preaching? Where is the hiding of his power?
When he reaches his sermon [says another observer] and
plunges into his subject, as if it were a message from heaven,
delivered for the first time to mortals, so fresh and earnest it is,
then the real height of the man's power is reached. . . . He
avoids all the old, worn grooves of reasoning, and leads you by his
own routine of thought into the clearest and simplest comprehen-
sion of life's duties and God's demands. And as he is lifted by
his theme into a rarefied atmosphere, and with a marvellous faith
catches a glimpse of still higher summits to be reached, like a
mountain climber, scaling from crag to crag, you are rapidly
mt.33-3^ TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 21
borne along with him, till the worries of earth look very trifling
from the crest where he pauses.
After this [according to another report] he entered the pulpit in
a black gown and announced his text, Hebrews ix. 22: "Wherein
was the golden pot that had manna and Aaron's rod that budded,
and the table of the covenant." . . . This meagre outline can
convey no idea of the richness of the sermon. . . . His style
was simplicity itself. Illustration and imagery are not profuse
but perfect. His power, however, is what no one less gifted than
he can describe to another who has not felt it. It seems to come
from a deep, personal experience which gives his message author-
ity. . . . He has a certain great-heartedness, and a passionate,
irrepressible desire to bring others to the Saviour whom he finds
so precious, that people of all shades of belief, and no belief, are
carried along, for the time at least, by the same enthusiasm that
seems to possess him. Out of twenty or more of his sermons
which we have heard, there has not been one which would have
been unsuitable for a revival meeting. Whatever the subject, the
central thought is always the cross of Christ the goodness of
the gospel to a sinful soul.
A stranger's earliest impressions on listening for the first time
to the young preacher, whose name is already famous far beyond
the limits of his own denomination, is doubtless amazement at the
rapidity with which words and sentences follow each other from
his lips. Utterly devoid of those pulpit mannerisms and affecta-
tions of which the world is weary, his first utterance seems to
fling him body and soul into his subject. . . . It is the earnest
wrestling of a brilliant intellect with great and yet simple truths,
evolving new and startling conceptions, or clothing familiar
thoughts with rare and subtle beauty. No written words can do
justice to the varied powers of this great pulpit orator. He has
the keenest analytic skill, the most charming purity of style, a
wonderful grasp of glowing imagery, the most evident sincerity,
the most touching pathos, and the broadest catholicity. . . .
There are none of our so-called popular preachers who at all
resemble Mr. Brooks, either in manner and style of delivery or
in peculiarities of thought.
We have seen that Mr. Brooks puzzled the inquiring minds
bent on detecting his theological bias. But according to the
majority of the best opinion, his teaching was in the strict
sense Evangelical. An Old School Presbyterian says :
12 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Writing from an " Orthodox " standpoint, your correspondent
may be pardoned for expressing the joy he felt that Puritan truth
is the doctrine of the preacher now most admired and sought
after in degenerate Boston. It was most refreshing and hope-
inspiring to hear him.
It is this compound [says another writer] of Broad Church lib-
erality and absolute fixedness and certainty as to points of belief
and faith that accounts for Mr. Brooks's wide influence in the
community.
Here and there [says a writer in the Congregationalist] you
will find one who thinks that the Unitarians get a little more
comfort out of his preaching than he ought to give them. But
there is reason for the remark that such suspicions are mostly
confined to those who seldom hear his sermons, if in some
instances they are not unaccompanied with what is very near akin
to a professional jealousy. I have never heard but one opinion
from those qualified by knowledge and impartiality to judge, and
that is that the current of his preaching is strongly and warmly
Evangelical.
One other testimony to his power as a preacher comes
from New York, when he preached at Grace Church in the
year 1870. The occasion rose at once to dignity and signi-
ficance, calling for description and comment which found
expression in the "Evening Post:"
The preacher was a man of mark in every sense, and the
moment you set eye upon him you asked who he was, if you did
not know him before. . . . There was no look or tone of assump-
tion in him, and in fact, until he warmed in his sermon, there
was nothing in his manner to impress you with remarkable power.
. . . His subject was positive religion, viewed especially in its
superiority over merely negative or repressive religion. It was a
strong and telling and glowing argument for the brave virtue that
follows the " Spirit " above the petulant asceticism that is always
fighting with the "flesh." The preacher held his congregation
fixed on his words for forty minutes. We listened to him with
the more attention from the fact that he is a memorable sign of
the times. He seems to be run after more by young people,
especially of the more cultivated class, than any other preacher,
and he is the most conspicuous man now in the pulpit of Boston,
that city so renowned for its theologians. ... It is not
-* T - 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 23
difficult to discover the secret of his power, although he has not
all of the conditions which have heen regarded as essentials of
success among his associates. He has no remarkable qualities of
voice, or elocution, or gesture. He speaks and reads very rapidly
and has no dramatic touches of pathos or humor. He does not
abound in original metaphors or epigrammatic points, in rare
classic allusions or profound philosophic distinctions. He has
none of the tragedian's startling tones and attitudes, and nothing
of the buffoon's grimace and merriment, which are now not un-
known in the pulpit. But the power of the man lies in the ful-
ness of his nature, his thought, his affections, his purpose, and his
speech. There is a great deal of him, and he lets himself out
without reserve, without affectation, without conceit, without
meanness. His sermon flows from its large fountain head in full,
continuous course, now in easy talk, and now in swelling volume,
and now in dashing force, until it pours into the open sea under
the eternal heaven, and carries you on its grand tide to its glorious
vision. ... It is a significant fact that Harvard, which has
been so eminent for the cautious accuracy, careful elegance, and
dainty reserve of its orators, should have sent such an unusual
representative into the pulpit, and that her representative preacher
now is this stalwart Broad Churchman, who preaches the human-
ity of Channing with the creed of Jeremy Taylor, and strikes at
the shirks and shams of our day with the dashing pluck and the
full blood of Martin Luther.
Space must be found for another calm, intelligent estimate
of Phillips Brooks as a preacher. It was written by a
Bostonian, as the extract just given was from the pen of a
New Yorker, by a Unitarian who abandoned his fold to listen
to him. No better statement than this was ever made :
One word remains to be said in regard to the ministry which it
has been our privilege to attend during the last winter (1869-70),
listening to those impressive utterances :
Where all is calm and deep and grave,
With a full soul's mature sedateness ;
where the overflow of vital power, and wealth of poetic imagina-
tion, and the nameless enchantment of genius are all made tribu-
tary to an awful earnestness of soul, a solemn and tender sense of
responsibility in preacher and hearer, which sends the latter away
with very different emotions from those awakened by the rhe-
torical brilliancy, or dazzling oratory, or mere theatrical perform-
24 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
ance of whatever kind. Of three points which make this ministry
especially attractive we notice, first, an extraordinary mental
clearness and precision, which make every word aid in guiding
the hearer straight to the point intended; which admits no re-
dundance in its beautiful and finished expression, and, in its most
glowing imagery and felicitous illustration, never gives the idea of
external ornamentation, but rather deepens the impression of the
truth to be conveyed as by the exposition of a purely natural
analogy or preexisting correspondence between things divine and
human. And secondly, we are impressed by its rare persuasive-
ness, a power of taking for granted assent, which almost com-
pels it, an emphasis laid on points of agreement, rather than on
those of difference, so that we find ourselves addressed from
the broad ground of a common humanity rather than from the
narrow platform of doctrinal distinctions, and are led to recognize
the central truths which underlie and comprehend all our diversi-
ties of opinion. But once more and including all the rest, we
find in this preaching a depth of thought and purpose, a scorch-
ing analysis of character and motive, that cuts clean through the
crust of conventionalism (whether of worldliness or religion), and
takes us to those depths (shall we say?) or lifts us to those
heights where we are set face to face with eternal realities, in
whose sight the poor routine of our daily life is transfigured with
new hope, made quick with grateful impulse and weighty with
sacred meaning.
These testimonies all belong to the first years of Phillips
Brooks's ministry in Old Trinity on Summer Street, while
he was making the conquest of Boston. They may suffice to
show how the city was moved at his coming. There were
those of course who doubted whether it was more than a
passing fashion, some of whom went to analyze or criticise
but for the most part remained to pray. Those were wisest
who accepted the situation as inevitable, recognizing that
some strange phenomenal power was in evidence ; that this
was no case of the ordinary sensational preacher, but some-
thing that was real and abiding, and as deep and mysterious
as the mystery of life in this world. If it may have been
hard at first for the Boston clergy to bend before such royal
presence in the pulpit, they did not show it ; they demon-
strated their own greatness by admitting that a greater had
come among them. Still, it was a disturbing experience in
-*t. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 25
all the churches. It was a source of further disquiet that it
was impossible to classify the preacher according- to received
canons of criticism. Those who listened in order to sit in
judgment sometimes thought they had discovered the secret
of his strength and again frankly admitted their failure.
"His power consists in his simplicity," said one, "in his
earnestness and strength, exhibited in the expression of a
theology free from the narrowness and technicalities of those
dogmatic schemes which make religion ridiculous and weigh
it down." Another said, "Of course he has a fine intellect,
but it is the warm, earnest heart guiding the intellect that
gives him such influence over his hearers." Still another:
"He knows what is in us all. He speaks out of the common
experience and comes right to the heart of men." And
again thought another :
His secret does not lie in his thought or his style ; not in his
utterance, which is rapid almost to incoherency, and marred by an
awkward habit of misreading his writing, a delivery unrelieved by
the charm of a musical or even a pleasant voice ; but in his evi-
dent honesty of conviction, sincerity of purpose, and earnestness
of desire, he does not think of himself or of the impression he is
making; also, in that he approaches men on the side of their
hopefulness. He is a man of exceptionally intellectual abilities,
but the moral qualities are so obvious and forceful as to make
the other seem secondary.
Those who made no attempt to penetrate the secret were
on the safer side. The preacher had the "vision and the
faculty divine," beyond which it was impossible to go; of
which Plotinus had said, as quoted by Coleridge: "It is not
lawful to inquire from whence it sprang, as if it were a thing
subject to place and motion, for it neither appears hither nor
again departs from hence to another place; but it either
appears to us or it does not appear. So that we ought not
to pursue it with a view to detecting its secret source, but to
watch in quiet till it suddenly shines upon us; preparing
ourselves for the blessed spectacle as the eye waits patiently
for the rising sun." Somewhat in this mood he was waited
upon by the people. And the people in this case were
26 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
worthy of study, as was the preacher to whom they listened
with rapt attention and in a wonderful stillness. They, too,
have been described in these reports from which extracts
have been made. It seemed to some as though the congre-
gations were made up mostly of young men, to others as if
young ladies under thirty predominated.
The packed congregations of old Trinity [says one] represent
the best intellect, the most cultivated minds, as well as the rich-
est families in Boston.
It is pleasant [says another] to see Phillips Brooks's audience
and to analyze it. I had expected that it was exclusively of the
more educated classes, but it is not ; from the place where I sat
last Sunday evening I could pick out easily enough the sewing
girls, the Boston clerks, the men of leisure and of study, the poor
old women with their worn and pinched and faded, but thoughtful,
earnest faces; and it was a dear sight, all those classes and con-
ditions of men riveted to the countenance of Phillips Brooks and
hanging on his lips.
It was not long before the popular verdict was rendered :
"Phillips Brooks's reputation is not to be church or city
limited. So thoroughly genial, strong-brained, and strong-
hearted a man will of necessity find a wider arena than can
be shut in by any lines which local whim or habit may
draw."
Somehow [says one observer] there is a feeling that he belongs
to the Church and not to the Episcopal Church; that he is too
large a man for the enclosure of any denomination; and that
a sketch of him in the " Congregationalist " is just as pertinent
as in the "Churchman."
And another writer sums up the situation with an air of
finality :
It is easy to see that Phillips Brooks has found his true sphere
in Boston, and those fond souls that dream of his return to Phila-
delphia, disappointed with his success here, may safely put away
that delusive hope. He has not been long in Boston, but Boston
knows how to improve her own advantages, and Phillips Brooks is
already a household deity in her complacent pantheon. Harvard
has taken him under her wing, and he is already one of her mag-
nates. Boston, secular Boston, quotes him familiarly and scarcely
iET. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 27
remembers that he ever lived out of sight of Bunker Hill. Phila-
delphia appreciated and valued him. Boston appropriates and
canonizes him with all the unapproachable honors of the "Cam-
bridge set, " and there is only one thing that Boston will never do
with him, and that is to spoil him as an honest, earnest, fearless
minister and man.
From Boston and the city churches the influence of
Phillips Brooks went forth at once into the suburban towns.
It soon became evident that he must belong to all the people
and occupy an interdenominational position, so far as was
consistent with his duties as the rector of Trinity Church.
Thus during the first years of his ministry in Boston we
find him preaching in Tremont Temple (Baptist), in the
Hollis Street Church (Unitarian), in Music Hall before the
Young Men's Christian Association and the Young Men's
Christian Union, in the Shawmut Church (Congregational) ;
also in the large Methodist Church in Charlestown, in the
Congregational Church in Salem, in the Harvard Church
(Congregational), Brookline, and in the Baptist Church in
Old Cambridge. But we find him also in Episcopal churches
in every suburb of Boston. Three times on every Sunday
he now preached as a rule, and as there were not Sundays
enough to go around he preached on week-day evenings, and
whenever he preached it was the event of the moment. All
this was not the manifestation only of ecclesiastical courtesy,
it was a personal tribute to the preacher. No other Epis-
copal clergyman was ever given a similar opportunity.
Among the manifestations of his larger ministry, a special
place must be given to the St. John's Memorial Chapel in
Cambridge. It had been one of the inducements held out to
him as a reason for coming to Boston, that this new and
beautiful chapel, built by the munificence of the late Robert
Means Mason of Boston, for the use of the Episcopal The-
ological School and for Harvard students, would be put at
his disposal. It had also been urged upon him by Dr.
Stone, its dean, and by Dr. Francis Wharton, one of its
professors, that he should have some official connection with
the school; but this proposition he does not appear to
28 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
have considered. On the third Sunday evening in January,
1870, he preached for the first time in St. John's Chapel,
a memorable occasion to the residents of Cambridge, for it
was the beginning of a practice to be continued full seven
years before it came to an end. On the third Sunday even-
ing in every month, during all this time, he was to be found
in the pulpit of the chapel, till his regular appearance
became a prominent feature of Cambridge life. From the
first Sunday that he preached till the last the chapel was
densely packed, and with such an audience as Old Cambridge
can furnish. The seating capacity was estimated at about
four hundred, but a hundred camp stools were provided in
the aisles and vacant spaces; the congregation, regardless
of ecclesiastical etiquette, accommodated themselves in the
spaces allotted to the clergy, around and beneath the pulpit,
and during the sermon the doorways were thronged with
eager hearers. Long before the service began people were
to be seen rapidly wending their way toward Brattle Street,
and were willing and glad to wait an hour in the church
in order to secure their seats. It was not an Episcopal con-
gregation, rather it was composed of those who profess and
call themselves Christians and of those who do not. Profes-
sors and students of Harvard College availed themselves of
the opportunity in large and increasing numbers. The spec-
tacle was an inspiring one at Trinity Church in Boston, but
hardly more inspiring or significant than that which the seat
of Harvard University afforded. If Cambridge had any
intellectual prestige or superiority to other academic centres,
it was represented fully in those audiences, who during these
years came to hear Phillips Brooks in the chapel of the
Episcopal Theological School.
This was the first approach of Phillips Brooks to the stu-
dents of Harvard College. He did not preach in Appleton
Chapel until 1873. In the meantime, from 1870, he took a
Bible class in the college, composed mostly of members of
the St. Paul's Society. Among his pupils who hold this
early relationship in grateful remembrance were William
Lawrence, now Bishop of Massachusetts, F. W. Tompkins,
mt. 33-36] TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 29
rector of Holy Trinity Church, Philadelphia, and the young-
est brother, John Cotton Brooks, rector of Christ Church,
Springfield.
Quite as striking as this extension of his influence in
ecclesiastical or religious ways was his recognition in secular
Boston. He rose quickly to the place of a foremost citizen
of his native town, whose presence at every civic solemnity
or function seemed indispensable to its completeness. On
such occasions he took his part with dignity and gravity, yet
never without the sense of amusing incongruity in the formal
association with great men and distinguished citizens to whom
as a boy in Boston he had been accustomed to look up with
reverence. The child in him was perpetuated in the con-
sciousness of manhood's obligations. Thus in February,
1871, he was present at a meeting in Music Hall whose aim
was to awaken public interest in a scheme for the erection of
a museum of fine arts, "when a distinguished array of lead-
ing citizens occupied seats upon the platform." Among the
speakers were Ralph Waldo Emerson and Edward Everett
Hale.
Mr. Brooks in his remarks maintained that this was a thing of
the people and for the people. He pictured clearly the state of
the popular mind with regard to an art museum. There was a
certain hardness and want of development in American character
on its aesthetic side; an art museum would awaken those large
ideas of life and nature which nothing but the art feeling can
awake, a boundless good, the new feeling of unworldliness, and
the artistic sense it would create. The passion of our people to
go abroad, when we have so much natural beauty at home, was
not strange; man needs man's as well as nature's work, and hence
Americans flock to the galleries of the Old World. He spoke of
what he gained as a Boston boy in the Latin School out of the old
room which contained the wonderful casts of Laocoon and Apollo.
He thought that an art museum would help every minister in
Boston in the effort to lift the people crushed by the dead weight
of worldliness to higher things. He spoke [says the reporter]
with more than his usual earnestness and eloquence, and was
frequently applauded.
He was present as chaplain at the third reunion of the
3 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Army of the Potomac in 1871, an occasion which brought
together Generals Meade, Hooker, Fairchild, Burnside,
Logan, Sheridan, and Pleasanton. In introducing Mr.
Brooks, General Meade spoke of the eminent services he had
rendered during the war, not only by his eloquence in the
pulpit, but by his ministrations in the hospitals to the sick
and dying. He attended a large meeting at Music Hall in
commemoration of Italian unity, and spoke, together with
Dr. Hedge and Mr. E. P. Whipple. He was the chaplain
of the Bunker Hill Monument Association at its meeting on
June 17, 1871, and in the fall of this year he officiated in
the same capacity, making the prayer at the laying of the
corner stone of Memorial Hall of Harvard University.
When the Grand Duke Alexis visited Boston in 1872, the
festivities were concluded with a banquet at the Revere
House, at which Hon. Robert C. Winthrop presided, and
speeches were made by the governor and mayor, by Presi-
dent Eliot, and by Messrs. Lowell, Dana, and Hillard. Mr.
Winthrop, who introduced Mr. Brooks, spoke of him as
already a power in the community, as welcome to social and
public occasions as he is valued as a pastor. Mr. Brooks,
in his remarks, dwelt on this feature in Russian history, how
all Russian life and government were everywhere pervaded
with religion, a religion different from ours, which had
yet a great work to do in the world. He described the
growth of the Grseco -Russian Church, claiming that the great
work it had done for civilization should be recognized.
America and Russia were the two young nations of the world
with none of the taint or stain of age. "The youth of the
guest was the fit expression of the hopefulness, the large
mysterious future which was before his country and his
dynasty."
In 1872 he preached the sermon before the Ancient and
Honorable Artillery Company at its two hundred and thirty-
fourth anniversary. The sermon, afterwards published, was
a notable one, from the text in Revelation xii. 7: "And there
was war in heaven." It was characteristic of Mr. Brooks
that though he hated war as an evil, and denounced its cru-
^ T - 33-361 TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 31
elty and inhumanity, yet when it came to representative
occasions, he took a different view and subordinated personal
feeling
B
Force has a divine mission. It was not to be invoked save
for divine tasks, never for the mere brutalities of selfishness, or
ambition, or jealousy, or worldly rage, or for tbe mere punctilios
of national dignity. So far as war bad justification in a princi-
ple it was this, that what men think and what men feel should
incorporate itself in action. Tbe late civil war was not tbe man-
ifestation of tbe military passion, but the passion of civil life,
the passion of home, tbe passion of education, the passion of reli-
gion. It was not war but peace that fought, strange as the para-
dox may seem. This was the claim by which our republic may,
with no unreasonable pride, boast to stand among nations as
Washington among men, First in war, first in peace ; first in war
because first in peace.
One other remarkable occasion at which he officiated was
known as the Peace Jubilee, when Boston commemorated in
1872 the reign of universal peace by erecting a vast tem-
porary edifice known as the Coliseum. Although the music
to be furnished by a choir consisting of several thousands of
voices, with a correspondingly large orchestra, was the prin-
cipal attraction, yet it was thought becoming at the formal
opening to have a religious service, and Phillips Brooks was
invited to make the prayer.
There were opportunities, however, to take part in civic
solemnities which he declined. Such was the invitation by
the city of Boston to deliver the oration on the Fourth of
July in 1871. He drew a distinction between the pulpit and
the rostrum, between the sermon and the oration or lecture,
invariably declining to lecture, in spite of the inducements
pressing and attractive which were offered him. The familiar
New England Lyceum still existed, and Mr. Redpath, its once
famous manager, knew well the value of Phillips Brooks.
There had been a time when Mr. Brooks would have welcomed
such an opportunity. It was one of his boyhood's ideals. That
he had come to some resolution to abide by the limitations of
the pulpit, if limitations they were, is most evident; in this
he was wise, and here lay also one source of his power, that
32 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
he confined and concentrated his energies in one direction.
For the ministry is the most jealous of all professions, and
the pulpit tolerates no rival. It would have been very easy
at this moment for him to have been distracted from his
profession, drawn off into lines of literary activity where
he must have excelled, because he had for them a native
aptitude. Thus he was received into literary circles in
Boston as a peer among men who had won world distinc-
tion. But when he was urged to domesticate himself in
Boston as a man of literature, as by the editor of " The Atlan-
tic Monthly," the invitation was declined and the temptation
put behind him. Whatever he did must have its close rela-
tion to preaching; it was the preacher who was speaking at
the civil functions which have been described; he could not
talk or write without preaching.
The services of Mr. Brooks were immediately demanded
in behalf of philanthropic institutions and charitable occa-
sions. Every movement for reform requested his assistance.
Without identifying himself with any special cause he gave
his support to every effort which aimed to secure the greatest
good of humanity. The list is a long one of organizations to
which he lent his presence and sympathy in these earlier
years, the Boston Fatherless and Widows' Society, the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, the Bos-
ton Humane Society, the Children's Friend Society, the Bald-
win Place Home for Little Wanderers, the Society for Dis-
charged Female Prisoners, the Idiots' School Corporation,
the Consumptives' Home, General Armstrong's Hampton
School in the South for the education of negroes. At reli-
gious anniversaries he was wanted, even the Free Eeligious
Society feeling that his presence would not be amiss in their
gatherings. Equally on special occasions in his own church
was he called to speak, before the Margaret Coffin Prayer
Book Society, the Episcopal Church Association, the Ameri-
can Church Missionary Society. It was with a peculiar f elici-
tousness and distinctive freshness and power that he met
these situations, as shown in the reports of his remarks which
invariably followed in the press.
^ T - 33-361 TRINITY CHURCH, BOSTON 33
Amidst these many appeals to his sympathy the cause of
children and of young people was most near his heart, or
seemed to be. The two organizations of the Young Men's
Christian Union and the Young Men's Christian Association
possessed him as if he were exclusively their own. And these
are included in the great scheme of educational institutions
with which from the first, and through all his later years, he
allowed himself to be identified as he did with no other cause,
his relations with schools and colleges and theological semi-
naries constantly increasing, and growing always more influen-
tial, tender, and intimate. One might think that this was a
compensation to him for his own exclusion from the work of
a teacher, which in his early life he had chosen for a profes-
sion. There was something extraordinary in the way in
which schools and seminaries and colleges looked to him as
the one man to give the fitting word for both scholars and
teachers. He knew how to address them from within their
own sphere. This could not have been unless he had shown
some special enthusiasm for the cause of education or in-
sight into its methods, and above all a sacred reverence for
the work it was doing. In great measure it was his by in-
heritance and by no effort of his own. But so it was that
from the time he came to Boston he proved the teachers'
ally and friend, and there was a spontaneity in the action of
educational institutions and agencies who sought his aid as
by infallible instinct. Thus in 1870 he was elected an over-
seer of Harvard College. In 1871 he was appointed on the
State Board of Education, in which capacity he visited annu-
ally the normal schools of Massachusetts. He went to Vassar
College where he made an address; to Andover where he
spoke to the pupils of the Abbott Academy on "Methods
of Instruction Human and Divine," "and the address was
like the author, noble, affectionate, and winning;" he was
chosen to make the address at the dedication of the new
building of the Bradford Academy, and his subject was "The
Personal Character of Force and Truth." He gave another
address at Mr. Gannett's School in Boston at its closing
exercises. As an overseer at Harvard, he was one of the
vol. n
34 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Board of Visitors at the Harvard Divinity School, and he
soon came into close relations with the Episcopal Theological
School in Cambridge. He still retained his position as a
trustee of the Philadelphia Divinity School, giving to it his
most loyal affection and support. In 1870 he went to Phila-
delphia to preach before its alumni. To these many ad-
dresses he brought the same careful and elaborate prepara-
tion. He was maturing his distinctive principle, which was
afterwards to appear in books in more impressive and final
form. He could not visit school or college, or come in con-
tact with the educational process in any of its stages, without
asking himself the fundamental question of his own youthful
preparation, How is the power of ideas to be brought to
bear upon the will? The question of education was only in
another form the problem of the pulpit. Thus in one of his
note-books he gives hints of the thoughts passing through his
mind :
The whole educational idea needs revision and is getting it.
All these years there have been a few influences called education,
but others have been doing a large part of the work. The man
at thirty, what has made him what he is? Now these are
things claiming recognition. The question is how far they can
be brought into the methods of a school, and how far a general
basis can be found common to all trades. There is hope of this
to some extent.
CHAPTER II
1869-1872
EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE AND FROM NOTE-BOOKS.
SOCIAL LIFE. THE SUMMER ABROAD. FORMATION OF
THE CLERICUS CLUB. DESTRUCTION OF TRINITY CHURCH
IN THE BOSTON FIRE
We have seen how Phillips Brooks was received in Boston,
what impression was made by his preaching, and how diver-
sified was his activity during the first three years of his min-
istry at Trinity Church. We now turn to the more personal
side of his life, to the impression Boston made upon him.
What hints may be gathered about the man himself, who,
while he threw a flood of light upon the souls of others, still
always remained in and with himself alone, guarding, as it
seemed, the shrine of his personality from the gaze of those
who fain would know him in conventional ways.
His manner at this time was marked by the signs of ex-
uberant vitality ; he appeared to have a larger degree of life
and of health than other men possess, and a boundless hope-
fulness. He went up and down on his missions or in his
social relations with a certain power of arousing or of excit-
ing all with whom he came in contact. His capacity for
trifling, his talent for nonsense, had not diminished by the
change from Philadelphia to Boston. In the photograph
which best represents him at this period there is a look of
profound inward peace and contentment, but withal an
amused smile, as the commentary on what he was observing.
It is the eye of one who, reading others and studying the
secrets of their hearts, does not impart the secret of his own
life in casual conversation. In this respect he could be
almost exasperating. Those who felt disposed to hold
36 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
serious discourse with him, such as they deemed becoming
to his office, were disappointed when a question called for
an answer revealing the inner life. He met them frankly
and with the utmost kindness, with so great charm of manner
that they felt drawn to him by an irresistible impulse; but
when they undertook to sound him upon opinions which
would betray his inward nature, he was like a young colt
watching for the first sign of harness or halter; in a moment
he had vanished in quick flight to the remotest corner of the
field, and to follow him, to come near him again, was impos-
sible. The passion for freedom, the refusal to be entangled
or betrayed until he knew his ground and was sure of abso-
lute sincerity, was his marked characteristic. But if one
would be content with an hilarity which played upon life and
shook together its various elements as in the pictures of a
kaleidoscope, then he would meet him upon more than equal
terms. His bearing seemed to indicate a man who had
never known sorrow or disappointment in cherished hopes,
to whom life appeared as enchanted ground, who wore the
crown of the victor, and possessed some subtle power of
transforming all situations into victories. And yet it had
been no slight experience which had transplanted him from
Philadelphia to Boston. Though he loved Boston with all his
heart, and had done so from his childhood, yet it was like
the love of a child for its home, to whom other homes may
appear more attractive, richer in the fascinations of life. It
took him several years before he ceased to hunger for Phila-
delphia. Intensely tenacious as he was of old friendships,
and slow in forming new ones, there was something almost
unnatural in severing the sacred ties which bound him to a
hundred homes in the city he had left behind. It looked
almost like disloyalty or treachery to the hearts which loved
him and sorrowed for his departure that he should begin at
once to create new ties in Boston homes, in a perfunctory,
ministerial manner. It was long before he entirely outlived
this feeling. Indeed he never quite outgrew it. Phila-
delphia remained the city of joy and beauty ; it stood for the
romance of life, the home of his immortal youth.
^ T - 33-3 6 ] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 37
Thus hardly had he reached Boston in the fall of 18G9,
when he returned to Philadelphia for a flying visit, lie
writes to Miss Mitchell, November 7, 18G9:
I am afraid I shall be dreadfully jealous of any one who steps
into my place at Holy Trinity in spite of my great desire to see
it filled, which is veiy unreasonable and womanly in me of course,
but natural. I am seeing my people and like them very much
indeed. There are many more young people among them than I
had supposed. I do not feel as much as I expected the embarrass-
ment of old associations.
Before Christmas he made a brief visit to Philadelphia,
and on his return he writes to Miss Mitchell, December 24,
1869:
My visit was very bright and pleasant. I cannot tell you how
pleasant it is to sink out of the strain and tension of this new
life into the long-tried friendship of my few kind friends. Two
weeks from to-night I shall be at your board again. Till then I
am impatient. We have had a Christmas Tree at Trinity this
afternoon, which went off very nicely. Christmas has been as
pleasant as strangers could make it.
To his brother Arthur, who asked him as the year 1869
was closing whether he was satisfied that he had done right
in coming to Boston, he answered that he would prefer to
wait and tell him at the end of another year.
His correspondence with Miss Mitchell, which runs through
the first five years after his coming to Boston, enables us to
trace the external events of his life with the advantage of
his own comment. But he rarely goes much beneath the
surface of things, and the extracts from this correspondence
which follow need to be supplemented from other soui'ces, in
order to a completer knowledge of the man.
Oh, that they would get a rector ! The sight of the parish the
other day convinced me how much they needed one to step in just
now and take the loose reins. All is ready to run as steadily and
vigorously as ever, but Avith a little longer delay there will be
degeneracy and dropping to pieces, which will be hard to repair.
McVickar cannot come, and they will not settle on him; why
can't they call Willie Huntington? (December 31, 1869.)
38 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Trinity is doing beautifully, the church is full, the lecture on
Wednesday evenings is crowded, we are just starting a mission,
our collections have doubled what they were, the people have a
mind to work. There is no opposition worth speaking of to the
idea of a new church, and we shall get it very soon. If anybody
says that I am disappointed in Boston, tell them from me it is
not so. I knew just what to expect, and I have found just what
I expected. Last Sunday evening I preached for the first time at
Cambridge at the new chapel. It was crowded mostly with stu-
dents, and all went off very well. I am to go there once a month.
(January 20, 1870.)
The thing that dissatisfies me most this winter is the way I
have had to live and work. I have read nothing for three months,
and though I have had a very pleasant time indeed, yet three
months is a big slice to take clean out of one's life and give away.
But things will be better in this respect by and by, and mean-
while I am getting a whole shelf full of books that I mean to read
in that golden day which is always just ahead when I have leisure
enough. (January 24, 1870.)
The dreadful certainty of some people grows terrible to me, and
the more sure I grow of what we ought to do and of what we are
in the world for, the more dreadful it seems to have dropped
anchor in the midstream and fancy we are at our journey's end.
As to "where they will bring up " I 'm sure I don't know, but I
fancy somebody does. . . . " I see my way as birds their trackless
way. I shall arrive. What time, what circuit first, I ask not.
In some time, His good time, I shall arrive. He guides me and
the bird. In His good time." (January 27, 1870.)
I have been dining at Mr. Charles Perkins's. Mr. and Mrs.
Brimmer, Longfellow, and Tom Appleton were there. It was
pleasant and easy. The Perkinses have endless pictures and art
things of all sorts. Mr. Appleton I like exceedingly, for he is
not merely bright, but generous and kind and simple. (February
10, 1870.)
I find my winter's record runs into a dreadful statement of
whom I have seen, not what I have read or what I have done.
It has been a winter of acquaintance-making. I know some five
hundred people that I did n't know in October, and that is all.
Except as a very general sort of basis for future work it is not
very satisfactory. Lent is just upon us, and while it is a time
that one would like to spend with a people that I know better
than I yet know these Trinity folks, yet I shall enjoy it with
mt. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 39
them. We are to have our usual services, just as we used to at
Holy Trinity, and besides, I have undertaken what I expect to
be very much interested in, a Bible class for Lent in college at
Cambridge, where there are a good many young men who desire
it, and who came and asked me for it. ... I can't tell you
how much I am depending on my next visit to Philadelphia. . . .
I am writing on Monday morning, when I am giving myself a
little indulgence after a hard day yesterday. (February 28,
1870.)
Have you read Emerson's new volume [Letters and Social
Aims]? How delightful it is! I speak not from the point of
a Bostonian, but with the mouth of absolute humanity. Is n't
it delightful to have a creature so far outside of all our ordinary
toss and tumble, describing life as if it were a smooth, intelligi-
ble, well-oiled machine, running along without noise on the
planet Jupiter, and seen by him with a special telescope and then
described to us, instead of being this jarring, jolting, rattling old
coach, which almost drives us crazy with its din, and won't be
greased into silence? It 's a capital calm book to read at night
before you go to bed, but I don't think it would go in the morn-
ing right after breakfast, with the day's work before you.
(March 9, 1870.)
This is Tuesday. Do you remember the old Tuesdays ? For
five years I think we hardly missed once, when we were all in
town, of going to Race Street, and eating our dinner together,
with a long talk afterwards. How completely that is over now.
Mrs. Cooper gone, and Cooper in Palestine; and Strong and
Richards, who were part of us for a while, in Kenyon and Provi-
dence; and I here. You hold the field alone. Now and then of
a Tuesday it all comes over me with a little swash of blue.
(March 22, 1870.)
Last night I had my Cambridge class again. There were fifty
young men there. I am intensely interested in it. It is the
most inspiring and satisfactory teaching in the world. (March
29, 1870.)
Have you read Disraeli's new novel? I like it ever so much.
It is full of such swell people. One lives with dukes and
duchesses in a way that delights me with mild snobbishness.
(May 26, 1870.)
Have you read Kent Stone's story [The Invitation Heeded] of
his conversion? As an appeal it seems to me powerful, as an
argument weak. It may touch some people strongly. Poor fel-
40 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
low ! there is something dreadfully sad in a man telling himself
and the world over and over again that he is happy, as he does
for so many hundred pages. (June 8, 1870.)
On June 28 he sailed for Europe, where he had planned
to spend the summer in a pedestrian trip through Switzer-
land and the Tyrol. He landed at Cherbourg, and after a
few days at Paris went to Geneva, to be joined there by his
friend Cooper. They were disturbed by rumors of war be-
tween France and Germany, but were soon out of reach of
telegraph, and for some days knew nothing of the truth.
They first realized the existence of war by its interference
with the Miracle Play at Ober-Ammergau, which Brooks had
counted upon seeing, the one great human interest for which
he sighed in the midst of the wonders of nature. As to the
war, he regarded it as wicked and unnecessary. His sym-
pathies were with Germany, while France seemed to him in-
solent and arrogant beyond herself. After some four weeks
of tramping in Switzerland, face to face with Mont Blanc,
Monte Rosa, the Matterhorn, the Jungfrau, he went down
into Italy and thence into the Tyrol, which was new to him.
Almost every day saw a good many miles of walking accom-
plished. He was a restless traveller, uneasy unless at work
and seeing something new. His interest and enthusiasm in
natural scenery were excited to the highest degree, but he
never failed to be touched by the contact of nature with
humanity. The scenery he describes as gorgeous, the towns
as picturesque. Ischl "is one of the most beautiful spots on
the face of the earth." "We drove through the valley of
Salza, till far up among the hills we came to the very beau-
tiful watering place of the Austrians, Bad Gastein. It is
lovely as a dream, just a deep mountain gorge, with a wild
cataract playing down through it and splendid mountains
towering above." Here stray rumors reached him of the
terrible war, with the unexpected defeat of the French, which
had thrown all Europe into confusion. Of Meran he writes
to his brother Frederick : " Cleveland is pretty, but this is
prettier. A lovely old valley with vineyards at its bottom,
and running up to the tops of the high hills that shut it in.
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 41
Old castles and modern chateaux looking down from every
side, and in the midst this queer old town, with peasants in
their picturesque Sunday clothes strolling back and forth
over the ridge that crosses the little Adige, and an Italian
sky and sunlight over everything." From Meran to Inns-
bruck, then over the Stelvio Pass, "the grandest in Europe,"
till they came to Bormio, "as pretty a little spot as there is
to be found anywhere."
One of the chief drawbacks he experienced in travelling
was the shortness of the beds. He writes to Frederick, "You
and I are too long; you will have an awful time with the
beds when you come into these parts." He speaks of having
escaped from bed at an untimely hour, "because I could not
stretch out straight or make the narrow bedclothes come
over me." He was in Paris on the 28th of August, having
met with no obstacles in getting there, though under constant
apprehension. The city was still gay, even when the Prus-
sians were believed to be only two or three days distant and
the memorable siege was impending. Again he was in Paris
on the 5th of September, "too busy and exciting a day to
write ; there was a bloodless revolution, and we went to bed
last night under a republic. I saw the whole thing, and
was much interested in seeing how they make a government
here."
Meran, Tyrol, August 14, 1870.
My dear "Weir, Cooper and I have been spending a week
among the Dolomite Mountains in the very heart of Tyrol, and
we have wished so often that you were with us that I have been
much put in mind of you all the week, and now that we have
climbed up into this nest of vineyards for Sunday, I am going to
do what I have meant to do ever since we got among the hills,
and write a report of myself. The hills have been too many for
me. They have piled in by the hundreds and buried my best
intentions of letter-writing, hills of all sorts, big and little,
Swiss and Tyrolean, grassy and snowy, with glaciers and without
glaciers, each sort always fiercer than the sort before it, and last
of all these wonderful Dolomites, perhaps the most wonderful
thing in the way of mountains that I have ever seen. They lie
in a vast group to the east of the Great Brenner road and to the
south of the Puster, that which runs through Tyrol from west to
42 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
east. The great Ampezzo road into Italy runs right through their
midst. They shoot up singly or in vast groups and ranges, sheer
masses of rock, black, red, or dazzling white, three, four, five thou-
sand feet into the sky, with tops indescribably broken into spires
and towers and castles, with great buttresses against their sides and
acres of snow upon their sloping roofs. Between the groups, right
from their very feet, start down the most exquisite steep, green
valleys overrunning with luxuriant cultivation, with picturesque
villages clinging to their sides, and wild brooks brawling along
their bottoms. From valley to valley you climb over steep mead-
owy passes standing between two of the giants at the top.
Everywhere grand views are opening of the great Marmolata,
which is the King of all these mountains with his miles of snow.
The constant contrast of wild, rugged majesty with the perfect
softness and beauty of the valleys is very fascinating. The moun-
tains get their name, oddly enough, from a certain M. Dolomieu.
He didn't make them, but some years ago he first discovered
what they were made of. I believe it is some peculiar prepara-
tion of magnesia. I wonder if some day a metaphysician, or, if
the materialist people are right, a physician, of the future finds out
at last what this human nature of ours is made of, whether the
whole race will be named over again for him and we shall all
have to be called by his name forever and ever. How the moun-
tains must have laughed, or frowned, at the poor little Frenchman
who said, "I have found out that you are magnesia, and so you
must be called Dolomites eternally."
These southern Tyroleans are very interesting people. There
is a pleasant mixture of German and Italian in their character,
as there is in their dress and language and look. They are very
cheerful and very industrious, the men handsome and many of the
young women pretty. Their beds are short and the bread is
awful, but they always give you your candle with a "May you
sleep well," and tell you that dinner is ready with a "May you
dine well, " that makes the footboard seem a little softer and the
bread not quite so musty. If you are unfortunate enough to
sneeze, the whole country takes off its hat and " God bless you "
resounds from every Dolomite in the land. Here on Sunday they
are sunning themselves in the pleasant gardens of the Meran,
looking as picturesque as possible with their tall hats and red
jackets and big green suspenders and great embroidered belts and
bare knees and black breeches. They are thoroughly hospitable,
and help a fellow out with his imperfect vocabulary by generally
knowing just what he wants, or at any rate what it is best for him
to have. If you could see the route that Cooper and I have come
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 43
over, you would know that a very little German can go a great
way in Tyrol.
Meanwhile this disheartening war goes on, and we hear of it at
intervals in the mountains. These Austrians hate hoth sides so
thoroughly that any news of hattle is welcome to them because
one side is beaten and some of their enemies are killed. The
great hattle of last week and the unexpected rout of the French
has changed the look of things. With Paris in his rear already
sizzling with revolution and the Prussian cavalry afront of Metz,
it does seem possible that this war may be the suicide of the
wretch who has brought it on with all its horrors so needlessly
and wickedly. It seems to me that nothing could make one so
despondent about human nature and the world who was inclined
that way as just such a war as this coming at this time of the
day in history.
Cooper sends you his love and wishes you had been with us
among these Dolomites. The poor fellow is groaning over a
letter in the next room. He and I are alone now. Newton was
with us for ten days, and I liked him exceedingly. We go hence
by Innsbruck, then by the Finstermunz and Stelvio passes into
Italy. Then through the Engadine north again, and I go to
Paris if I can get there. I sail on the 10th of September. I
hope to find at Innsbruck the letter you promised me from the
Pictured Rocks. I hope you have had a good summer. God
bless you always. 1 P. B.
The following extracts are from Mr. Brooks's letters to Miss
Mitchell after his return from Europe :
I got in New York Stanley's new volume of Essays, some of
which I have seen before, but all of which are interesting.
There is an essay on the "Religion of the Nineteenth Century"
which is the best statement I have seen of the characteristics and
prospects of what we call the "Broad Church " movement. Do
read it. His views about Church and State I can't agree with,
but it is the only strong ground on which an Englishman can put
the question, and for all Englishmen must have weight. What
capital English he always writes? I send you a number of the
Harvard boys' paper with an account of Mr. Hughes's visit to
them, which was very pleasantly done. I missed seeing him at
Mr. Fields's by my Pennsylvania visit. (October 17, 1870.)
1 Cf. Letters of Travel, by Phillips Brooks, for fuller details of this and other
journeys abroad.
44 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
I am reading Huxley's new "Lay Sermons." How clever it
is, how much the man knows, and how brilliantly he writes. But
it is like most Small Books on Great Subjects, most books for the
people that popularize science. It is patronizing and mince-
meaty, and he is particularly belligerent about the theologians in
a way that does not do credit to his discrimination or temper.
... It does not seem as if it could be only a year ago that I
preached my last sermon in Holy Trinity, and we all travelled
together to New York the next morning. It seems a half dozen
years at least. My first year here in Boston has been on the
whole successful. I have done as much with Trinity as I had any
right to expect to do, and we are on a footing now to do more.
But it has not been the pleasant life that the old one was, and
while there has been much to enjoy, there has been more anxiety
and worry than ever was of old. But I dare say I shall like
it better. Meanwhile don't think I am blue. (November 10,
1870.)
I don't feel theological this morning. It is too near Christ-
mas, which always upsets theology entirely. I have never been
able to write a Christmas sermon yet that was in the least a
theological satisfaction to me or anybody else. So we '11 put the
questions on the shelf till next week. I am so glad that Christ-
mas is coming, and yet I hardly know why. This is the only
day whose associations have much power over me. I don't care
a great deal about Anniversaries, but Christmas, with its whole
spirit, into which we all seem to slip so easily year after year, is
exceedingly beautiful to me, and, as I go about the streets, the
details in these few days beforehand, which are vulgar enough in
themselves, men mounting up spruce boughs in churches and
men carrying home turkeys by the legs, all give me ever so
much pleasure. And I like it more and more as I get older.
(December 23, 1870.)
The smallpox was prevailing in Philadelphia, and Mr.
Brooks writes to Miss Mitchell, inviting her to Boston :
"We will take good care of you in our cold-blooded sort of way,
and when the pestilence is over, you shall return to your home
with an increased measure of that respectable dislike with which
Bostonians are always gratified to think that the rest of the coun-
try regards them. Have you read Dickens's "Life," and isn't
he a disagreeable person and isn't it an ill- written book? (Jan-
uary 6, 1871.)
'jet. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 45
The Lecture (Wednesday evening) didn't go very well. The
night is stormy, and though I don't care much for a full audience
for the name of the thing, I need it for inspiration, and when I
see a small audience I lose the impersonalness of the thing. I
think of individuals and that always puts me out. I was talking
about the visit of Zebedee's children and their mother to Josus,
and am much interested in the subject. But it never is yet the
same thing talking in Trinity that it used to be in the old time
speaking from the dear old platform. (January 11, 1871.)
I have been quite stirred upon the subject of prophecy in writ-
ing a sermon for last Sunday on Cephas. I am quite convinced
that there were two Isaiahs. . . . Queer people come to consult
me here. To-day there was a man who had been to England and
got into some set of fanatics there and come home calling himself
a Christadelphian. To-morrow, like as not it will be a skeptic
of the widest incredulity. (January 18, 1871.)
One evening this week I had my Cambridge boys, the fifteen
senior members of the St. Paul's Society, in at my room to spend
the evening with me, a noble set of fellows, manly and true, and
helped instead of hurt by their religion. I take great pleasure in
them. (February 3, 1871.)
Aren't you glad that Paris is taken? I was reading last
night one of Robertson's Lectures on Poetry, with its extravagant
glorification of war, which is so amazing in a right-minded man
like him. It seems to have been the last remnant of brutality
in a nature which had been almost everywhere cultured and refined
far above it. But who can look at the last ten years on both
continents and not call war horrible? Let us trust this one is
over. Good must come of it, horrible as the process is. Who-
ever was to blame for it, we surely can't help being thankful that
Prussia and not France is to be the master in Europe. (February
13, 1871.)
This is one of the evenings when I wish myself in Philadelphia ;
not that anything particular is the matter with Boston, but I
have an evening to myself and I am tired of reading, and there is
nobody in particular that I can go and see without its being a visit,
which I don't feel up to. Nobody's house where I can go and
smoke and be pleasantly talked to, and answer or not, as I please.
I know one such house in another town where I don't live any
longer. But I am not there, and I must make the best of it.
(March 7, 1871.)
46 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
As to English Church matters, I am thoroughly content with
the Voysey decision, and I think the Convocation debate about
(Vance) Smith disgraceful. It is published in full in the " Guard-
ian." Bishop Wilberforce is worse in his way than any . . .
can be. The American bishops too, it seems, went with them.
(March 15,1871.)
I am having a very good time, with plenty of loose reading and
the days only half long enough for what I find to do. This even-
ing I have been reading Tyndale's new book of Alpine stories,
which is very charming, bringing back the fascination of that
wonderful country and exciting one as all such accounts of ven-
turesome climbing unaccountably do. The style is charming, and
the man, with his splendid health and enjoyment of nature and
his current of sentiment, is delightful. (July 25, 1871).
Are all Hutton's Essays like the one which I have just been
reading, republished by Dr. Osgood in New York ? It is on the
" Incarnation and the Laws of Evidence, " and shows a breadth
and purity and devoutness of mind which gives one great delight.
I would rather have a Unitarian read it than any book I know;
and if one thinks that Broad Churchmanship is necessarily hard
or indifferent of the Whately or the style, nothing could
better convince him otherwise than the warmth and earnestness
of this little book, which has so evidently come out of a man's
soul. (August 10, 1871.)
The summer of 1871 was spent in Boston. He seems to
have adopted the rule, though it was not invariable, of taking
the alternate summers abroad. Throughout the summer he
preached regularly at Trinity Church in the morning, and at
St. Mark's, West Newton Street, in the evening. Both
churches were free to strangers, and it is needless to say were
filled.
The summer still continues very beautiful, cool and pleasant,
and I have enjoyed the leisure of the town exceedingly. But I
am already looking forward and counting on my visit to you in
the fall. I shall enjoy it immensely, and you will be obliging
and talk to me as much as I want to know. From that I shall
take the fresh start into another winter which everybody needs,
and which is mainly what one loses by keeping at work all sum-
mer. "All life is tidal," as Tom Appleton said to me on the
street just now, and went on to tell me how the other creatures as
at. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 47
well as we needed ebb and flow and got it somebow at regular
periods of their life. So I shall be high tide about the last of
October. (August 13, 1871.)
I bave been reading Browning's new poem, and I couldn't help
feeling vaguely all the while that there was a sort of story in it
of the way that other men lose their wives nowadays, only not
always with the better fruit of widowhood. The poem seems to
me, by the way, very fine and beautiful, more tender and human,
than almost anything that Browning has ever given us before.
(August 22, 1871.)
Miss was staying at the Vintons' (at Pomfret), and when
I was coming up, as I had to do on Wednesday, to attend a funeral,
I had the privilege of her company all the way to town. She
was delightful, full of brightness and information and fun, not
in the least formidable to people of imperfect cultivation, with
all that is best and apparently nothing of what is worst in
women. . . .
On Thursday I had an hour with Mrs. , which was as good
as a walk in the Alps for freshness and healthfulness. There is
nothing like her in Boston, and remember we are to have an
evening there when I am with you in Philadelphia whatever else
may fail. (September 7, 1871.)
Have you read Joaquin Miller which is brilliant in color and
very picturesque sometimes, and not by any means our great poet
yet. (September 16, 1871.)
The old round of parish duties, which I have gone to afresh
every autumn for twelve years, has opened again, and I have been
rather surprised at myself to find that I take it up with just as
much interest as ever. I suppose that other men feel it of their
occupations, but I can hardly imagine that any other profession
can be as interesting as mine. I am more and more glad that I
am a parson.
I wonder if the autumn is as splendid with you as it is here.
I spent last night at Waltham (at the country house of Mr. R. T.
Paine), and this morning got an hour's walk before I came into
town. I never saw anything lovelier than the woods, just touched
with autumn color. The whole of September has been a perfect
month, and next month when the glory of it is beginning to fade
I shall get over it again with you in Philadelphia. (September
25, 1871.)
It is very good of you to think so kindly of my visit. It was
a very delightful time to me, and if you really enjoyed it all I am
48 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
truly glad. How delightfully lazy it was, and Boston seems so
driven and hurried. People here seem possessed to do something
without much care for what they do. The mere passion of rest-
lessness is in the Yankee blood and partly in the East winds.
(November 11, 1871.)
I have two of your letters to one of mine, which is a good deal
more than it was worth, but is very pleasant to me. I do not find
that people ever are troubled at getting more than their deserts.
It is my birthday and I am thirty- six years old. It seems a
little strange but not unpleasant, and although I have had a pretty
time indeed so far and would be glad to go back and do it all
over again, yet I am not miserable that I cannot, and I am still
rather absurdly hopeful about the future. To have passed out of
young manhood altogether and find myself a middle-aged man is
a little sobering, but I only hope that all the young fellows who
come after me will have as good a time as I have had. . . . We
have been seeing the Russian Grand Duke, who appears to be a
fine, manly, sensible fellow. (December 13, 1871.)
It is rather strange how freshly and delightfully the Christmas
feelings come back year after year. And yet it is ten years ago
the first Sunday in January, 1872, since I became your minister
at Holy Trinity. I have had an awfully uneventful life. Things
happen to other people, but not to me.
I am ashamed to look back over any day, though I was never
busier in my life. It seems made up of such wretched little
details, and yet I wouldn't be anything else but a parson for the
world. I wonder often that the work keeps up such a perpetual
freshness when the days are so monotonous.
I know nothing of the grace of sickness. It seems to me ter-
rible, the whole idea of suffering, but even more of weakness and
weariness. (January 16, 1872.)
Last Sunday I spent at New Haven, and enjoyed it exceed-
ingly. Stayed with Dr. Harwood, who is a fine, studious Broad
Churchman; preached for him in the morning, and in the evening
preached in his church for the Berkeley Association of Yale Col-
lege. The church was crowded, and Congregational professors
sat in the chancel. I had never seen Yale College before, and
was interested in its size and life. It is not equal to Cambridge,
but it is a great college still. . . . Have you read Lightfoot's
"Commentary on Philippians" ? Do get it and read the "Essay
on the Christian Ministry." It does seem to me to finish the
Apostolic Succession Theory completely. (January 19, 1872.)
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 49
The California plan is not settled yet, but I think I shall go.
. . . Though it would he folly to talk about being run down, I
am conscious of having been on the strain rather too long. I
have preached twice every Sunday, and generally three times, since
I got home from Europe, a year ago last September. I am preach-
ing badly, and the trip will do me more good now than at any
other time. (February 7, 1872.)
I don't think that parsons really are so bad. I suspect that
they are human, and I see but little evidence practically of Apos-
tolic Succession, but I think there are not many who would
refuse to see a smallpox patient, or who would give up parish
visiting because the smallpox was in town. . . . McVickar was
here on Sunday and preached a good hearty sort of sermon for me
in the afternoon. They are talking about him for St. Paul's
here. I went out on Sunday evening to preach the first of a
course of sermons for the St. Paul's Society at Cambridge.
Going there is one of the most interesting things I have to do.
(February 21, 1872.)
I get so tired of talking with tongue and pen that I don't feel
equal to hearing myself in one unnecessary word. To-day, for
instance, I have preached a Price Lecture, and attended two
funerals, and carried on a Mission meeting among our poor folk,
and had a regular Wednesday Evening meeting (lecture). I am
sure that I shall hear my own dreary voice reading the service in
my dreams. Do go and hear Miss Smith and tell me about her.
The old Methodist idea of perfection, which I fancy has always
more or less believers, is just now quite a favorite notion. There
are several meetings held here in its interest. I have just got a
note from Rev. Copley Greene, who wants me to dine to-morrow
with Rev. John Hubbard, who is a great believer in it ; and Mr.
Boardman of the " Higher Christian Life, " Bishop Eastburn, and
Dr. Vinton, and Willie Newton are to be there, a jolly dinner
party. ... I have been looking through Hawthorne's "Italian
Diary, " an interesting book that it would have been wicked to
publish, if it had not been the work of a man who took delight in
dissecting himself in public. (March 6, 1872.)
I am very busy. My Confirmation class is to be large, and
gives me much thought, but it is very interesting. Last Sunday
Dr. Harwood preached for me in the morning, and preached well.
He gave a noble sermon to the College boys at Cambridge in the
evening. (March 22, 1872.)
I have been reading a new book, which is a rare thing with me
VOL. II.
5 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
nowadays. This one delights me exceedingly. It is Dr. Sears'
book on St. John (The Fourth Gospel, the Heart of Christ).
Do get it and enjoy it. It is so rich and true and wise. All
that he has written before is excellent, but this is best of all. I
have a copy of his "Regeneration, " which you gave me once. . . .
Have you read the " Life of Hookham Frere ? " It is very in-
teresting. Some of his translations are wonderfully well done.
(March 28, 1872.)
I have perfected my plans for Europe now. The 27th of June
is the day, and Denmark, Sweden, and Norway are the places,
with possibly a little of Scotland thrown in. Judge Gray goes
with me. We shall represent to Norwegians that we are insig-
nificant specimens of the American size, and I shall tell them that
they ought to see two giants we have at home, called and
, if they want to see the true grandeur of the American pul-
pit. (April 6, 1872.)
I was very much disappointed that Weir refused to go. I
had dared to hope that he might look favorably upon our plan.
... I suppose it is one of the small compensations that my
lonely life brings with it, that having nobody but myself to pro-
vide for, I can now and then get a chance like this. A few
of the folks of Trinity surprised and embarrassed me a little
the other day with a check for $3300 to go with. A week ago
my friend Edward Dalton died in California. Did you ever see
him? He married a cousin of Mary McBurney's. He was one
of the noblest and best and bravest men I have ever known, and
death has not often come nearer me than in his loss. His life
for the last three or four years has been one of the saddest things
I ever knew of. Wife, child, and health all went at once, and
it has been a mere fight for life, as brave and cheerful as possible,
ever since. (May 25, 1872.)
Somehow my visits to Philadelphia, delightful as they are,
always go off in such a rush and whirl and hurry that when I
come away I have a sort of feeling that with all the pleasant time
I haven't got exactly what I went for, the quiet, placid time I
used to have, especially of evenings when I dropped into your
house on my way home. I suppose it is necessary that one should
feel that his time is not limited before he can enjoy it thoroughly.
At least it is so with me. I hate to be hurried. That will be
one great advantage of heaven. . . . We shall have plenty of
time for all that our hands find to do. I sometimes have suspi-
cions that if I could live for five hundred years I might come to
something and do something here. All is going on beautifully
^ T - SS^ 6 ! EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 51
about the new church. Some of the people of their own notion
got up a subscription to buy an extra piece of land, and in a few
days raised $75,000, and are going on now to make it a hundred
thousand, so that the church will be really something very fine.
We shall have in all something pretty near half a million to put
into it. ... I am getting up a sermon for the Ancient and Honor-
able Artillery Company, one of the queer old Puritan organizations
before which every Boston minister preaches some time in his
career, and is not thoroughly initiated without. (May 30, 1872.)
It is a terrible week in Boston. The Jubilee is going on with
flash and bang all the time. ... It is wonderful what a row
this jubilee is making. There is not a corner to be had in any
hotel, and the Enormous Barn which I see from my window is
thronged all day with folks curious to see what the big noise is to
be. I like to see a crowd and expect to enjoy this very much,
but it is all very funny and sensational, and the primness and
classicism of Boston turns up its stiff nose at it. . . . We have
chosen Richardson of New York for our church architect, the
best of all competitors by all means. He will give us something
strong and good. (June 11, 1872.)
The summer of 1872 was spent abroad in northern
Europe. Mr. Robert Treat Paine accompanied him and
was with him for a month; after that he was alone, de-
pendent on acquaintances made in travelling. His brother
Frederick was in Europe at the time, but naturally preferred,
as he was making his first visit to the Old World, to see it in
his own way. They met in London, and then separated.
Mr. Brooks's summer included several weeks in Norway,
where he was enchanted with the scenery and impressed with
the broad daylight, which enabled him to read a letter on
the street at eleven o'clock at night. From Norway he
passed to Sweden, where he speaks of seeing Prince Oscar.
He was delighted with Stockholm ; he went to Upsala for its
university and cathedral, and to meditate upon Scandina-
vian mythology. From Sweden he went to Finland and
thence to St. Petersburg, Warsaw, and Moscow, recalling
historical associations, commenting on ways and customs,
drawing his own inferences, but especially interested in the
churches, which he made it a rule to attend on every possible
occasion. He returned from Russia to Berlin, stopped at
52 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
Copenhagen and Hamburg, then went to Paris, where he met
his brother, and together they sailed for home.
An incident occurred while Mr. Brooks was in Sweden,
to which he makes only the briefest allusion in his " Letters
of Travel," his meeting with Prince Oscar, brother of the
reigning king, and who soon after acceded to the throne as
King Oscar II. A fuller account of this meeting is given
by Rev. Percy Browne, from a conversation with Mr.
Brooks :
When Brooks was approaching Christiania he heard that Prince
Oscar was to come on board the steamer on which he was travel-
ling. As the ship anchored, the royal barge drew near amidst a
thunder of salutes from the forts. When the Prince reached the
deck he stood for a moment between the sailors drawn up on either
side of the gangway, and noticing Brooks, who modestly stood
behind the sailors, said in excellent English, waving his hand
toward the city, "Is it not a loyal people? " The Prince then
retired to the end of the ship roped off for his exclusive use.
At midnight, Brooks was smoking a last cigar before turning in,
sitting on a part of the deck far removed from the royal en-
closure, when a tall man wrapped in a cloak drew near. It was
the Prince. He said in English, "Will you oblige me with a
light ? " When he had lit his cigar he sat down and entered into
a long conversation, asking many intelligent questions about
America, especially about the Judiciary, the method of adminis-
tering justice in the Courts, etc. Brooks said he spoke like a
man conscious that he had come to a position of great responsi-
bility, and anxious to learn all that might be of use to him. The
next day the Prince disembarked. Before leaving the ship, as he
stood at the gangway, he reached over the line of sailors behind
which Brooks was standing, and shaking hands with him, said,
"Au revoir. The earth is round and we '11 meet again."
A few extracts from his note-book give us an idea of the
deeper moods of the traveller, in this summer of 1872 :
As we travel, it seems sometimes as if ninety-nine hundredths
of the people in this world had so hard a time, could find so little
in their lot to enjoy. The reassurance must come from consider-
ing that joy in mere life, often dumb, brutish, and unconscious,
but very real, which every creature has, the luxury of mere exist-
ence to which we cling, for which we slave, and which we really
do enjoy.
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON $3
As we travel, this impresses us much, I think, the uniform-
ity of nature under all the endlessly various changes of men and
their ways and customs, always the same sky and ground and
grass. It is a striking picture of the universality of the primary
and simple emotions and affections, beneath the changing aspects
of men's more complicated life, this sight everywhere of the
simplest signs of the simplest emotions. The child's smile,
curiosity, love, rage, give us the same idea.
This terrible longing to fasten and confine sacredness to local-
ity; this passion of holy places. We refine it and elevate it, but
it is to be feared that many of its worst effects are latent in the
most beautiful features of our Anglican religion. (Moscow,
August 18, 1872.)
After all, it is the deepest and not the superficial interest of life
in which men sympathize most and come together; in religion
above all other things, and as regards religion in those things
which are deepest, not in forms and ordinations, but in the sense
of sin, the sense of God, the hope of perfectness. I was struck
with it as I travelled in Norway, where those whom I had not
understood, who had lived a different life all the week, seemed as
I saw them in church on Sunday to be so perfectly intelligible.
The value of Sunday as thus the common day, the day of worship.
Out of these reflections was born a sermon on the text,
"Until I went into the sanctuary of God." He wrote down
the leading ideas of the sermon in the note-book, following
the extracts just given.
The Sanctuary of God the place of solved problems. The Holy
Place of God. His Presence. The contact of the soul with
His soul. How it shames our ordinary talk about churchgoing.
How it convicts most of our preaching. How it shows the unim-
paired fitness of the custom. The solution comes with the thought
of God and of the soul and of eternity and of redemption.
I think one cannot go into any temple which men have built to
worship God in, in however false a way, cannot enter a mosque
or the most superstitious of cathedrals in a right spirit, without
seeming to feel the influence of some such spiritual illumination
on the problems that he has left outside in the hot street. I dare
not despise the poor Russian crossing himself, etc.
I went yesterday into a bookstore to find something to read
on my journey hither, and the only legible thing that I could hit
on strange company for an orthodox travelling parson was a
54 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
cheap copy of Renan's "Les Apotres." I read it through yester-
day, and it was dreadful ; the studious putting of the supernatural
and the spiritual out of our knowledge, and almost out of our
existence, the making of life its own complete solution. I pitied
him for his flippant satisfaction, every page I read. What can
such an one do with death? (Copenhagen, August 28, 1872.)
The summer was a thoroughly successful one. So he
speaks of it in letters on his return. To his friend Mrs.
Lapsley of New York he writes :
I have had a superb journey, . . . that was quite unlike any-
thing I have ever had of Europe before and exceedingly interest-
ing. We went so far north as to get beyond the reach of dark-
ness, and lived in broad daylight all night long. The scenery of
Norway is wonderfully picturesque, especially the coast scenery,
and the people are the oddest, quaintest, poorest, honestest, dirt-
iest, ugliest folk in all the world. I found Russia, too, intensely
interesting, and altogether have had a rare summer. (October
13, 1872.)
It is important to chronicle these journeys of Phillips
Brooks because they constitute the breaks in a somewhat
monotonous round of triumph and honors, of numberless
engagements, of constantly recurring social functions where
his presence was indispensable. They were indeed his only
recreation, his only mode of escape from the burdens of the
life that now began to press ever more heavily upon him.
What strikes one forcibly in his way of living at this time
and afterwards is the absence of any form of exercise or
recreation. He has ceased riding horseback; his walking
is mainly confined to his round of parish visiting. Occa-
sionally he walks when he goes to Cambridge to preach.
Now and then he mentions bathing, fishing, and sailing, as
when he visits his parishioner, Mr. C. R. Codman, at Cotuit;
or goes on some yachting excursion along the coast. He
speaks sometimes of playing billiards at Mr. Morrill's, or of
bowling at Mr. Thayer's at Lancaster. He appeared so well,
however, so exceptionally vigorous, that one would hardly
suppose that he was the worse for neglect of exercise. Yet
even in this exceptional moment of apparently luxurious
vitality and abounding spirits there were hints which were
jet. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 55
suggestive of danger. In 1871 lie was hindered from work for
several days and confined to the house with a bad throat.
He wrote describing his illness to Dr. Mitchell of Phila-
delphia, admitting that he had been alarmed. Here was his
vulnerable point. He was putting a burden upon his voice
to which it was not equal. Those who were experts in the
use of the voice were convinced that he did not understand
the right use of the vocal organs. When he was fairly
launched in his sermon, in the storm and stress of his great
effort, one seemed to hear the voice creaking and groaning,
as if overstrained, and the result was sometimes harsh and
unmusical. There were fears that his voice might fail him,
fears in which he shared, and which sometimes depressed
him as he thought of the future. But the immediate danger
passed away, and the voice recovered from its ill usage,
though somewhat impaired.
This was the time when he should have married and
formed a home of his own. His friends introduced reminders
of the subject in their letters, but his reply was only that the
coming woman had not yet appeared. When he first came
to Boston he took rooms at 34 Mount Vernon Street, but
complained of the want of sunlight, and soon transferred
himself to the Hotel Kempton on Berkeley Street. Here he
was happy in his surroundings, exercising his rare gifts as a
host. If he suffered at all seriously in the separation from
Philadelphia, it was not evident. He gave the impression
of being the happiest of men, a happiness whose fountain
was deep and inexhaustible, as though he drank from sources
more rich and full than others, and to most men inaccessible.
He was now possessing or creating a rich new life in the
hosts of friends who gathered about him.
In the first place his father and mother were near him.
He made it a rule to dine with them every Sunday, after
morning service, as in Philadelphia he had dined with Mr.
Lemuel Coffin. That was a fixed engagement. At his
brother's house, he found another home. He was greatly
interested in the birth of his first niece as the starting of a
new generation in the Brooks family. His youngest brother,
56 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
John, he attended on his way through Harvard, as he had
done with Frederick and Arthur. John graduated in 1872,
and then the family succession closed at Harvard. " Since I
entered college," he writes, "in 1851, twenty years ago, we
have had one there all the time."
It was a family event of rare interest, such as few family
records can boast, when at the ordination of Arthur Brooks
to the deaconate, his two elder brothers in the ministry were
present, Frederick Brooks presenting the candidate, and
Phillips Brooks preaching the sermon. The event took
place in Trinity Church, June 25, 1870, Bishop Eastburn
officiating. A brilliant career opened at once to the younger
brother. He possessed the same family characteristics which
lent power to his older brothers ; he had dignity and gravity,
and effectiveness as a preacher, joined with soundness of
judgment which made him even while still young a valuable
counsellor. He had energy and administrative gifts, hal-
lowed by a spirit of consecration to his work. His first
parish was at Williamsport, Pennsylvania, where in a short
time he witnessed as a result of his labors the erection of
a new church. In 1872 he accepted a call to the important
parish of St. James in Chicago. The following letter was
written to him by Phillips Brooks on the occasion of his
engagement to be married :
Boston. March 23, 1872.
Dear Arthur, I write at once to say how sincerely and
with all my heart I congratulate you upon your great happiness.
Of course you are very happy, and you have the best right to he,
for a life is a poor, imperfect sort of thing unless a man is mar-
ried, and engagement is about the same thing. I hope it won't be
a long engagement. Do be married and be wholly happy very
soon. Life is n't long enough to waste any of it. ... I can
rejoice with you not only on the abstract bliss of an engagement,
but on your own peculiar good fortune and special prospects of
being happy. A good many of my friends I have lost when they
got married, but I look forward to knowing and liking you better
than ever, and when it comes to the snug little cottage or the
gorgeous parsonage in Chicago, I speak to be your first visitor
and to have my place always in your home, as you shall always
have yours in my disconsolate and empty rooms.
mt. 33 -36'] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 57
So, Arthur, you are wise and good, as you always are, and may
God bless you and life be always only brighter and brighter than
it seems to-day.
I send by you my kindest regards to Miss "Willard, which I
shall hope to dispatch more directly very soon. We are counting
on your visit. Yours always, P.
None were quicker than his old college friends and class-
mates to discern and rejoice in the signs of his greatness,
many of them living in or near Boston, some of them his
parishioners at Trinity, Mr. Robert Treat Paine, Mr. John
C. Ropes, Col. Theodore Lyman. He felt at first some
embarrassment at the revelation of his new and greater self
to these associates of earlier years. Hardly had he become
fixed in Boston when it seemed as if he were transferring
to it his clerical friends of Philadelphia and rebuilding his
old environment. Dr. Stone had preceded him in coming
to the Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge. In 1870
Dr. Vinton came to be the rector of Emmanuel Church.
Soon after followed Rev. William Wilberforce Newton to
be the rector of St. Paul's, Brookline, Rev. Percy Browne
to St. James's, Roxbury, and Rev. Treadwell "Walden to
St. Paul's, Boston. Rev. C. A. L. Richards was almost
within calling distance at Providence ; Rev. James P.
Franks, at one time his pupil and now his kinsman by
marriage, was called to the rectorship of Grace Church,
Salem. In 1870 these clerical friends were associated in a
club called the "Clericus," which met on the first Monday
evening in every month. To Mr. Newton belongs the
honor of being its founder, who organized it after the plan
of the Clericus in Philadelphia, already mentioned, if it
could be called an organization which had no constitution
or by-laws. It possessed a clerk in Mr. Newton, who notified
the members of the monthly meetings. In the course of
years it developed a president in the person of Phillips
Brooks, but no one ever knew exactly when or by what pro-
cess he assumed the office. His right to it, however, was
unquestioned. The meetings were held informally for a few
years in the houses of the members, until finally Mr. Brooks
58 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
insisted that they should meet regularly at his rooms. The
social element on the whole was the most prominent feature
of these evenings, though the inevitable essay was always
read. There were some who thought that the meetings
would be more profitable if the members were all required
to comment in turn on the essay, but to this arrangement
the president positively refused to listen. The talk should
be spontaneous or not at all. If a member had anything to
say let him wait his chance and then hold the floor if he
could get it against some one else more anxious to be heard.
It was practically Phillips Brooks's Club, and so it came to
be generally known. It formed a prominent feature in his
life, as it surely did in the lives of all its other members.
Those who had the privilege of meeting him there saw him
and heard him in familiar and yet impressive ways which will
never be forgotten. 1
It was characteristic, too, of Mr. Brooks that he seemed to
give himself exclusively to whatever occasion claimed his
interest. Thus he seemed almost to live for the Clericus;
he was seldom absent from its meetings ; he kept track of
absent members, and urged their attendance or reproved
them for neglect. But he was also giving himself in num-
berless other ways. The demands upon him were so great
even in these early years in Boston that one wondered how
he found time for reading or sermon-writing. Hospitality
in Boston was extended to him as freely as it had been
in Philadelphia. According to his diary there is rarely a
day when he does not mention some dinner engagement.
Breakfast was about the only meal that he took at his lodg-
ings. He never gave the impression, however, of one who
suffered from the burden of his duties, and certainly he never
complained, except in familiar letters, that his life was not
wholly to his mind. He attended concerts occasionally,
1 The founders and original members of the Club were Phillips Brooks,
Rufus W. Clark, C. A. L. Eichards, Arthur Lawrence, William W. Newton,
W. R. Huntington, A. V. G. Allen, James P. Franks, Charles H. Learoyd,
George L. Locke, Henry L. Jones, Charles C. Tiffany, Percy Browne, Edmund
Rowland, Leonard K. Storrs, Henry F. Allen, Rt. Rev. Thomas M. Clark,
Treadwell Walden, James H. Lee, C. G. Currie, E. D. Tompkins.
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 59
especially the Oratorios given in Music Hall. He kept late
hours, not generally retiring before twelve o'clock, but was
always an early riser, breakfasting at half past seven. He
had one standing engagement where there was no objection
to the lateness of the hour, his Sunday evenings at Dr.
Vinton's after his third service was over. If he found "the
doctor favorable for conversation " the occasion was a pro-
longed one.
Yet amid this multiplicity of engagements, he did secure
time for reading and study, and for the writing of sermons.
Despite the manifold distractions, his mind was preoccupied
and concentrated on his work; because he saw life in its
unity and as a whole, all things were contributing to his
purpose. From 1871 he was a member of the Examining
Committee of the Public Library in Boston, which served
to keep new literature before him. His own library, already
large, was rapidly growing. He continued to make it a
rule to read books as they appeared, which every one else
was reading, and so kept himself in contact with the literary
trend of the moment. In poetry at this time there was
Browning's "Ring and the Book," A. H. Clough's poems,
Morris's "Earthly Paradise," Robert Buchanan's poems,
George Eliot's "Spanish Gypsy," etc., and these he read.
He writes to Rev. Arthur Brooks :
I indulged myself in a little piece of medievalism in Rossetti's
Poems, and as I read over the "Blessed Damosel " last night I
thanked you for it. Have you ever read the Poems ? They are
Pre-Raphaelitism in verse, very curious and very lovely in their
way, but you need to go at them in the right mood, perfectly
dreamy, entirely untroubled with practical affairs. . . . Quick
would n't like them because they don't preach the Gospel a bit,
and Claxton would n't like them because there is not a word of
parish work in them, but they are very pretty, nevertheless, when
you are a trifle tired with parish work. (December 27, 1870.)
There was different and more substantial reading, as in
Hunt's "Religious Thought in England," which he greatly
admired, and which still remains the one best work for intro-
ducing a reader to the comprehensive character of the Angli-
60 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
can Church; or Tulloch's "Rational Theology" in the
Church of England. In other books which he was reading
we get the reflection of the hour: Lecky's "History of Ra-
tionalism," Darwin's "Descent of Man," the writings of
Herbert Spencer, Huxley, and Tyndall, whose "Prayer
Gauge " suggested a sermon on prayer in which he main-
tained its objective as well as subjective effects; Matthew
Arnold's "Culture and Anarchy," Pater's "Renaissance,"
Proude's " History of England," Stanley's "Westminster
Abbey," and Parkman's "Jesuits in North America;" in
biography, the lives of Lacordaire and of Lord Herbert of
Cherbury, and the "Letters" of John Adams; in lighter
books or novels, "Realmah," Auerbach's "On the Heights,"
"Wilhelm Meister," and Lord Chesterfield's "Letters."
There was one period of history which he continued to study
with peculiar zest, the English civil war and the age of
the Commonwealth, as if he were invigorated by returning
to the native atmosphere which his first American ancestors
had breathed. He read Burnet, Clarendon, Hallam, and
Nugent's " Memorials of Hampden." Masson's "Life of
Milton " sent him to Milton himself, and especially to the
"Areopagitica." He read anew "Cromwell's Letters" by
Carlyle, taking notes as he read. There was another author
whom he valued and kept by him, Isaac Taylor, who has
furnished the seeds of thought, of sober and sane criticism
to many minds. Wordsworth must be mentioned and
Shakespeare particularly as writers to whom he was con-
stantly recurring.
There is evidence that he was carrying on some larger
purpose in his more directly religious reading. He was
studying the Fourth Gospel as the basis of Wednesday even-
ing lectures; he had also begun a systematic study of the
life of Christ, in order to the satisfaction of the deeper
questionings of his mind. Then, too, he was looking into
the history of preaching, and to this end was making out a
list of the great preachers in the church from the time of
Chrysostom. After the first six months of his rectorship at
Trinity, during which he was making the acquaintance of
^ T - 33-3^ EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 61
the parish and wrote only a few sermons, he began with
renewed zeal the task of sermon-writing, but under a some-
what different impulse from that which had inspired the
Philadelphia preaching. He was beginning to feel the influ-
ence of Boston. The religious situation was also changing;
the spirit of free inquiry was growing deeper; the difficulties
begotten by the scientific mind were to many overwhelming.
These influences he had not felt so strongly in Philadelphia.
There his task had been to arouse a living, fresher interest
in what men already believed. Now he was called upon to
meet the moods of those who were drifting away from the
historic Christian faith. The question was before him how
far it was possible to be true to one's reason, to be free to
accept new truth from whatever quarter, to be honest with
one's instincts and conviction, and yet to maintain the faith
of childhood as given in the Apostles' and the Nicene creeds.
Out of the many sermons which he wrote during the first
three years of his ministry in Boston, Mr. Brooks chose but
four for publication. Two of these have a distinct autobi-
ographical value. The sermon entitled "The Young and the
Old Christian" from Deut. xxxiii. 16, * "The goodwill of
him that dwelt in the bush," written in 1871, has the marks
of the earlier Philadelphia manner when he rejoiced in dis-
covering some unfamiliar passage of Scripture, whose mean-
ing was not at once obvious. The thought of the sermon
bears on the relation between the beginning and the end of
the Christian life ; on the unbroken process of growth in
which the personal Christ becomes clearer to us in the years
of mature manhood ; so that whatever the years may bring
in the accretions of knowledge or wisdom, we shall never
be called on to renounce as unreal the vision of youth by
the bush side when we first heard the voice of God in our
ears. The local mood of the moment when this sermon
was preached called for a protest against the narrowness and
illiberality which many identified with the Christian faith:
"Narrowness of view and sympathy is not unnatural in a
1 The sermon is published in the second volume of his sermons, Tlie
Candle of the Lord, and other Sermons, p. 39.
62 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
new believer. It is very unnatural in the maturer Christian
life. ... I do not say that it is best for the young Chris-
tian to be illiberal. Far better certainly if he could leap at
once to the full comprehension and the wide charity which
the older Christian gathers out of the experience of life."
We have here the germ of his later treatise on Tolerance:
It is too apt to be the case that only by experience does the
Christian reach this breadth of sympathy, which comes not from
indifference, but from the profoundest personal earnestness. It
is something wholly different from the loose toleration which men
praise, which is negative, which cares nothing about what is abso-
lutely true or false. . . . At present it seems to be assumed that
narrowness is essential to positive belief, and that toleration can
be reached only by general indifference. Not long ago I read this
sentence in what many hold to be our ablest and most thoughtful
journal: "It is a law which in the present condition of human
nature holds good, that strength of conviction is always in the
inverse ratio of the tolerant spirit."
Against such a view he raises his protest. He does not
believe that human nature is so depressed. If men can only
be filled with the spirit of God, we "may still see some
maturer type of Christianity, in which new ages of positive
faith may still be filled with the broadest sympathy, and men
tolerate their brethren without enfeebling themselves." Such
was the ground he assumed at the beginning of his Boston
ministry, in a city where religious differences were wider and
more sharply marked than elsewhere in the country, where
they threatened also to be more intense, until they should
endanger Christian charity. From this position Phillips
Brooks never retreated. But on the other hand, the com-
prehensiveness of the preacher is evident in his bold state-
ments in regard to dogma, which the liberal school of
thinkers might undervalue :
And for one thing I should say that as every Christian be-
comes more and more a Christian, there must be a larger and
larger absorption of truth or doctrine into life. We hear all
around us nowadays great impatience with the prominence of
dogma that is, of truth abstractly and definitely stated in
Christianity. And most of those who are thus impatient really
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 63
mean well. They feel that Christianity, being a thing of per-
sonal salvation, ought to show itself in characters and lives.
There they are right. But to decry dogma in the interest of
character is like despising food as if it interfered with health.
Food is not health. The human body is built just so as to turn
food into health and strength. And truth is not holiness. The
human soul is made to turn, by the subtle chemistry of its diges-
tive experience, truth into goodness. And this, I think, is just
what the Christian, as he goes on, finds himself doing under God's
grace. Before the young Christian lie the doctrines of his faith,
God's being, God's care, Christ's incarnation, Christ's atone-
ment, immortality. What has the old Christian with his long
experience done with them ? He holds them no longer crudely,
as things to be believed merely. He has transmuted them into
forms of life. . . . The young dogmatist boasts of his dogmas.
The old saint lives his life. Both are natural in their places and
times, as are the ripe and the unripened fruit. How soon you
can tell the men whose soils have tugged at the roots of their
doctrines and taken them in, and left them no longer lying on the
surface, but made them germinate into life.
At this time Mr. Brooks was encountering, whether as a
parish minister, or as a reader of the passing literature, these
divergent attitudes in regard to Christian faith : some were
tenacious and defiant in maintaining the traditional doc-
trines; others were calling for elimination, or modification,
or restatement; others still gloried in the rejection of creeds
altogether, or if there must be a creed, let it be made anew
each day or year to meet the changing moods of the soul or
the requirements of the passing hour. Under these circum-
stances he wrote his sermon on the words of St. Paul, "I
have kept the faith." 1 The history of the sermon is inter-
esting. During his summer in northern Europe in 1872,
when his mind was at leisure to review his work and the
existing situation, the words kept recurring to his mind,
"I have kept the faith." Months before the sermon was
preached he was taking notes in his journal as he prepared
himself to speak. He proposes to meet the popular fallacy
"that a man must change his views to show his freedom."
He had before him "the danger of making one's opinions
matters of faith." The question of training children brings
1 Sermons, vol. i. p. 57.
64 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
the issue to a test. Shall they be brought up in the tradi-
tional faith, or what is the result of the experiment which
leaves them without religious tenets, until they arrive at
maturer years? "What is the meaning of the Collect for
Trinity Sunday, which asks of God that He would keep us
in this faith ? Is it merely a prayer that pride and obstinacy
may be strengthened, or that He would show us a method of
keeping ideas fixed? Exactly what did St. Paul mean by
' the faith ' ? " It is evident that he meant, whatever else
may have been implied, "certain fixed belief," which he had
received and not originated. The conclusion is "the possi-
bility of counting some things settled and going on to de-
velop them into life; " and the method is through obedience.
No faith is kept except as it is obeyed. There is "a strange
mixture of the moral element " in all the passages of the
New Testament where "the faith" is mentioned. No faith
can be truly kept except by discovering in it relations to life.
So it must be with the doctrines of God, of the Incarnation,
of the Trinity, of the Atonement, of Immortality.
Such were the hints and fragments of the preparation he
made for his sermon in the fall of 1872. Some of them
were incorporated in it, but the sermon when it was born
throws this meagre outline into the shade. It was delivered
at a moment when people were wondering at his preaching,
unable to define his position to their satisfaction. But this
sermon gives the open secret. There is no bondage in hold-
ing to the historic faith as expressed in Christian doctrines,
but rather through them lies the way to perfect freedom.
The tendency of Christian doctrines is to expansion under
the vital process which reveals in them a relation to life.
As we follow the preacher in the years that are to be
studied, it is important to keep this sermon in view. From
the position here taken he never receded.
The impersonal character of entries in his note-book pre-
vents one from always discerning the immediate motive out
of which they spring. His fellow traveller in Norway was
abruptly summoned home by the death of a child. This is
his comment when left alone to his reflections :
*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 65
It seems as if a child's death and the keen, hitter pain it brings
us let us see much of the feehleness of the intellectual powers to
command our love, of the possibility of that in which the intel-
lectual was not at all developed holding us intensely.
A few more extracts from his note-books of these years
may be given without comment. They illustrate the current
of his thoughts, whether at home or abroad.
The positive and negative pictures of heaven, "no night,"
etc., and "river of water of life," etc. This world suggesting
the other by contrast and by anticipation. So the uses both of
Sorrow and Joy.
We have no descriptions of Jesus in the Gospels, only stories
of what He did. The perfection of Biography. Contrast with
novels.
In utter dark, in bitter pain,
I reached a vague hand out for strength,
It pressed a hand that pressed again,
And all my tumult calmed at length.
The darkness brightened slow around;
I looked to see what friendly hand
My need had grasped, and lo I found
My foe of foes in all the land.
One angry look of strange surprise,
Then, "Take we what the Master sends; "
He holds me to his heart and cries,
"Brother, the Lord hath made us friends."
The difference between suffering and pain. Pain is accidental,
suffering is essential. It is right and necessary that we should
undergo and accept as our lot whatever comes in our way of work
whether it is agreeable or disagreeable (and therefore note that
the old Latin and Greek corresponding words were used of "suf-
fering " or "experiencing" either pleasant or unpleasant things);
but that pain in the sense of discomfort should accompany the
acceptance is a mere accident, no more to be called absolutely
"right" or "necessary" by the ascetic than, on the other hand,
pleasure is by the voluptuary.
"I will walk at liberty because I keep Thy commandments."
The liberty of law, Eden ; the passage out of it, a passage into
VOL. 11
66 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
slavery. True liberty is harmony. The slavery of self-conscious-
ness that comes with sin. That is the tree of knowledge. David,
so free in his goodness, so cowardly in his sin. Sympathy with a
law well kept, that is the best freedom.
"We may not always be consciously thinking of God, only we
must think of all things through and in Him, as we do not always
look at the Sun and yet see all things we know only by the Sun's
shining.
The man was going somewhere else and sat down for a moment
on the lowest step of the Temple of Fame, which is work; and
Fame opened the door and called him in, to his surprise.
Men keep their brains strangely in abeyance, or they show you
and expect you to be satisfied with some certificate of deposit,
which shows that they have got them put away somewhere.
There is no doubt about the genuineness of the certificate and so
none about the real existence of their brains, but it is not the
same thing to you after all.
The danger, the terrible danger of false tests! I have been
told a hundred times that the Bible must stand or fall with
slavery; and John Wesley says, "Infidels know, whether Christians
know it or not, that the giving up of witchcraft is in effect giving
up the Bible."
As the Hebrew Psalmist prayed, "If I forget thee, Jeru-
salem, let my right hand forget her cunning, " so let us in the
same spirit pray that our powers may be of use to us, only while
we abide in the religion of the right and the true. Let us beg
that any power of reason, or imagination, or persuasion, or any
other that we have may abandon us when we forget righteousness
and God. Let us dread most of all to be builders for Satan with
those powers which the Father gave us to build with for Him.
"0 Lord and Sovereign of my life, take from me the spirit
of idleness, despair, love of power, and unprofitable speaking."
(Prayer of St. Ephraim of Syria, in the Russian Liturgy.)
To Miss Mitchell he writes November 7, 1872 :
I don't like to hear you talk as you have in your last two let-
ters about not living long. Not that I think death is dreadful
in the least for the one who goes ; he has the best of it ; but it
is dreadful to be left behind, and find how merely impossible to
make new friends that are at all like the old. I am sure, too,
-*t. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 67
that our friends must be more and not less to us in the other
world than they are here, and that this world only begins friend-
ships. Otherwise nothing could be more wretched. (hdy I
shudder when I think how one's friends who have believed in him
here will find him out there, and see what a humbug he was. I
don't believe it will alienate them, though, and no doubt even
there the humiliation will be good for him. Promise me that
however you find me out to have been a delusion and a sham you
won't give me up, for I forewarn you that you don't know me now,
and if you ever do the discovery will be a shock to you. Which
does n't mean that I ever murdered a parishioner or robbed a
house, but only that I know myself better than you know me. . . .
1 I am glad on the whole that Grant is elected, but wish it had
been a narrow thing instead of such a sweeping vote. He and
his party will hold that the whole administration has been tri-
umphantly endorsed, and that they are strong enough now to do
just what they please. There won't be any great despotism, but
there is no reason to look for reform or for a high-toned govern-
ment for the next four years.
Have you read Beecher's "Lectures on Preaching " ? It is very
rich and sensible and clever.
The most important circumstance in the latter part of
1872 was the destruction of Trinity Church in the great
Boston fire, to which reference has been made in the previous
chapter. His own account of it is given in this extract
from his correspondence with Miss Mitchell :
Hotel Kempton, Berkeley Street, Boston, November 12, 1872.
We have had terrible days. Last Saturday night and Sunday
were fearful. For a time it seemed as if the thing would never
stop so long as there was anything left to burn. Everybody has
suffered, almost everybody severely. Very many have lost all.
Scores of my parishioners have been burned out. But the courage
and cheerfulness of everybody is noble and delightful. It began
about eight o'clock Saturday evening, and hour after hour it went
on, growing worse and worse. Street after street went like paper.
There were sights so splendid and awful as I never dreamed
of, and now the desolation is bewildering. There was hard work
enough to do all night, and though much was lost, something was
saved. Old Trinity seemed safe all night, but towards morning
the fire swept into her rear, and there was no chance. She went
at four in the morning. I saw her well afire inside and out,
carried off some books and robes, and left her. She burnt majes-
68 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
tically, and her great tower stands now solid as ever, a most
picturesque and stately ruin. She died in dignity. I did not
know how much I liked the great gloomy old thing till I saw
her windows bursting and the flame running along the old high
pews. I feel that it was better for the church to go so than
to be torn down stone by stone. Of course our immediate incon-
venience is great, and we shall live in much discomfort for the
next two years. We have engaged the Lowell Institute, a Lecture
Hall that seats a thousand people, and shall begin service there
next Sunday.
But Trinity is only one little bit of the great catastrophe.
There is little immediate destitution, for there were hardly any
dwellings burnt, but thousands are thrown out of employment, and
it is pitiable to see the rich men who have been reduced to poverty
in a night. My poor friend Mr. , the gentlest and best of
men, is ruined in his old age. Every hour one hears of some new
sufferer, but the strength and brightness of every one is amazing.
My father was so happy as not to be touched in any of his little
property. I myself had none to lose. It is going to be a winter
of sadness and suffering, nobody can guess how much yet.
I can talk of nothing but the fire, and not of that coherently.
Some day I will tell you all I can about it, but the horribleness
of that night nobody can tell. . . .
To this account some other particulars may be added.
Mr. Brooks was sitting in one of the pews of Trinity Church,
with Mr. Dillon the sexton, resting after the fatigues of the
awful night, when the flames were seen stealing in at the roof
of the northeast corner. They waited there together, watch-
ing the progress of the flames until it became unsafe to
remain. As they were hurriedly leaving the building, Mr.
Dillon, in his excitement, threw open the great doors of the
tower and fastened them back, as had been his habit for many
years when the congregation was to disperse after service
was over, this last time, as it were, for the invisible crowd
of witnesses to take their final departure.
There is another incident connected with that fearful night
which is worth recalling. As Mr. Brooks came away from
Trinity Church he went into the large jewelry establishment
of Shreve, Crump & Low, then on the corner of Summer
and Washington streets, where they were expecting the fire
-ffiT. 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 69
to reach them at any moment. It added to the wild excite-
ment of the hour that thieves were known to be in the
neighborhood awaiting their opportunity, some of them ex-
perienced in their craft, having come from a distance; and
there were rumors of vessels lying at the wharf near the
foot of Summer Street, which were being laden with the
spoils of the burning district. Under these circumstances,
Mr. Brooks offered his aid, asking if there were anything
which he could do. Mr. Crump immediately responded by
emptying the safe which contained the most valuable property
of the firm pearls and diamonds and other precious stones
into two hand bags, and consigned them to Mr. Brooks
with directions to carry them to a house on Newbury Street,
a mile or more from the conflagration, taking no certificate
of deposit, and offering no bodyguard for protection on the
dangerous errand, for the distance was to be walked, and no
conveyances were to be had. Under these circumstances,
about the hour of two o'clock in the morning, Mr. Brooks
executed the commission entrusted to him.
In a letter to Rev. George A. Strong, Mr. Brooks describes
other aspects of the desolation which appealed to him :
November 12, 1872.
Run your eye over the map and think what there was between
Summer and State and Washington streets, and consider that all
swept away, and it is wretched to think about. None of us knew
how fond we were of the old town. The streets that are gone
are those that were most familiar to us when we were hoys.
They were then all residences, and I was horn in one, and grew
up in another, and went to school in another, and had walked
them until I knew all their cobblestones. I am glad to know that
you are very fond of Boston too. It is the best city of the con-
tinent anyhow. ... As for Old Trinity, it was sad to see it go,
and we shall he much inconvenienced by living in tabernacles for
the next two years, hut in the end it will not hurt us, and if the
parish keeps together, as I think it will, we shall find some com-
pensations in the freer and heartier worship of our hall. We
have got a beautiful hall as large as the old church, close by our
new place, and count ourselves very lucky.
To Miss Mitchell he writes :
70 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1869-72
My kind friend Mr. Dexter is dead. His funeral is to be this
morning. I do not know of anything more calamitous that could
have befallen the church, and personally I had become very fond
of him for his constant kindness and thoughtfulness and the
simple, bright, transparent character he always showed. I never
knew a more unselfish man. His own sorrows he had enough of,
and kept them perfectly to himself. He was born with every
instinct of a gentleman. He had never been successful in busi-
ness, for he was too good-natured and gentle. I hardly ever saw
a man who had been successful in business whom I did n't dis-
like. Mr. Dexter had been very busy since the fire removing the
last of the Trinity dead to Mount Auburn. He took a severe
cold and last Saturday was laid up, and Tuesday he died of con-
gestion of the lungs. I shall miss his friendship sadly, and to
the church his loss is simply irreparable. He was full of interest
in the new church, and meant to give now his whole time to it.
He had been warden of Trinity about fifty years, and yet was
young and fresh and progressive, while his long service gave him
that sort of fatherly authority in the Parish which, if it is wise, it
is a good thing for somebody to have. Poor Trinity! She seems
to get it pretty hard, but her people come up well, and I think
she will stand, though this blow is a hard one. Our new hall is
crowded, and the services there are full of such spirit as we never
could get in the old church.
Well, Thanksgiving Day is over, and there was a great deal to
be thankful for, and it was a bright and brilliant day, and so I am
glad it came, but there was a kind of sadness about it. That
great blotch [the burnt district] in the middle of Boston looks
more and more miserable as the smoke dies away, and there are so
many people who you know are suffering that your sympathies
are kept stretched all the time. (November 29, 1872.)
With the burning of Trinity Church, Mr. Dillon also dis-
appears from the scene of his labors. He was a man of great
dignity of manner, quite the equal in this respect of Bishop
Eastburn, whom in their long association he may have
unconsciously imitated. He was bewildered at the time of
the great fire, but it also illustrates his habit of watchfulness
over the property of the church, that when the fire brigade
asked for the coal in its cellars to feed the exhausted engines,
even though the conflagration was raging at its worst, he re-
fused the request. After his retirement to his farm in Ver-
mont, he would on occasions discourse, most edifyingly it was
mt- 33-36] EARLY YEARS IN BOSTON 71
said, to his friends and neighbors on important points in the-
ology, exhibiting with fine discrimination "sound views," and
warning against erroneous teaching. His neighbors listened
with deference, for they knew that he had had great oppor-
tunities.
CHAPTER III
1873-1874
ECCLESIASTICAL CONTROVERSIES. RELATION TO THE EVAN-
GELICAL SCHOOL. EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE.
THE SUMMER ABROAD. DEATH OF FREDERICK
BROOKS
It does not appear that Mr. Brooks took any active part
in the controversies within the Episcopal Church which cul-
minated in the year 1873. He was an interested spectator,
watching the proceedings of conventions and the trend which
things were taking, but he did not feel called upon to enter
the arena as a combatant. Although he was regarded as an
Evangelical or Low Churchman, yet so early as 1870 he
found himself out of sympathy with the management of the
Evangelical Educational Society. What moved his indigna-
tion was the policy it had adopted of sending, to the young
men who wished to become its beneficiaries, a circular letter
containing a series of questions or tests which they were
required to answer, in order to show that they were in sympa-
thy with Evangelical tenets. This was made the condition on
which they were allowed to receive the Society's aid in their
preparation for the ministry. When Mr. Brooks became
aware that this policy was approved by the Board of Man-
agers, he wrote to the secretary of the society resigning his
position upon the Board.
Boston, November 14, 1870.
My dear Mr. Matlack, I beg you to believe that I did
not write my last letter, resigning my position as a Manager of
the Evangelical Education Society, without careful consideration.
I thank you most heartily for the kind urgency of your note
which I have just received, and am very sorry that I cannot with-
draw my note as you desire me to do. I do believe with you
'/,/
<*t. 37-38] CHURCH CONTROVERSIES 73
that these are times in which all men truly Evangelical ought to
stand firmly together, but I am sure that the way to bring that
to pass is not to narrow their standing ground. Do you seriously
mean to count no man Evangelical who is not able and willing to
answer satisfactorily to these questions of the Society? If so, it
will cast out many not merely among our students, but among the
clergy who have always counted themselves one with the great
Evangelical section of our church.
It is impossible to discuss the "questions " in a letter, nor is it
of any use to do so, but I cannot help calling your attention to
the strange effect which is produced upon one's mind when in one
question he is asked to give up all allegiance to human authority,
and fasten his faith on and define his creed by revelation, and two
questions later, finds himself called upon to rank himself under
the banner of two modern teachers as represented in two of their
books. Nor can I think that the qualifying phrase "in the main,"
to which you point me, helps the matter at all. The degree of
conformity will be left to the judgment of the candidate ; as
always in such cases the most worthy will be the most scrupulous
and wholly uncertain how near they must come ; the less conscien-
tious will content themselves with a very general sort of assent,
while the more faithful will demand of themselves an entire agree-
ment to the books, 1 to which, whatever be our respect and love for
their authors, I am sure there is not one of us who is able to give
his assent in every particular. Not one of us does not hesitate
at some statements in any treatise of theology as long as these
books. Their authors would be the last men to desire that we
should blindly agree with them in every word. And yet we cast
out students who cannot meet this test.
If this be no new policy, but only the old one declared, then I
have grievously mistaken my duty in the past. I have recom-
mended students to the Society often, and I have been on critical
committees to examine applicants. I never examined students
with questions such as these, nor have I heard others do it.
It is not so very long since we were students ourselves. I am
sure that if these questions had been laid as tests upon the Alex-
andria seminary when you and I were there they would have
excluded all the men who have been most useful in the ministry
since. I cannot doubt it, and yet I cannot at this moment think
of one man of our time who has turned out a High Churchman.
But I did not mean to argue the matter. I ought to have been
at the meeting if I had anything to say. Only I cannot stand
1 The books here referred to were Evangelical Religion, by Dr. May of
Virginia, and the Contrast, by Dr. J. S. Stone.
74 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
apparently asking, as essential to acceptance of a candidate for
education for the ministry, declarations which I do not hold to be
essential, and which I do not think the best men among the appli-
cants will be able or willing to make. There is no such condi-
tion, as these questions imply, to any money that comes from my
parish. I could hardly surprise my people more than by reading
them the questions next Sunday.
So I must resign, but I do it with great regret. I have had
more interest in this than in any Church Society. I have rejoiced
in the good work that it has done, and certainly I do not now
cease to be interested in its prosperity, though I must beg you to
present the resignation which I sent you.
Excuse this long letter, and believe me
Yours faithfully,
Phillips Bkooks.
After long delay and with much reluctance the resignation
was accepted. His attention having now been called to the
whole subject of assisting students with pecuniary aid in the
course of their preparation for the ministry, Mr. Brooks
took a further step, refusing any longer to ask for contribu-
tions from his parish to the treasury of the Educational
Society, or to allow its secretary to use his pulpit for the pur-
pose of soliciting funds. The following letter to his brother,
in Chicago, who felt the same difficulty, reveals his state of
mind :
Hotel Kempton, Berkeley Street, Boston, November 16, 1873.
Dear Arthur, I wish you'd ask me easier questions.
Here is this Theological Education question which I have been
puzzling over for years and see no light on yet, and your letter
just rubs it in a little more. For myself I have nothing to say.
Sometimes I have found a good student to whom I have made my
appropriation, but at present I know of none such; and I have
about $500 lying at interest which I do not know what to do
with. I cannot deliberately send to the Increase of the Ministry
Society, and the accounts which I have heard of the Evangelical
Anniversaries make me less inclined than ever to send to Mr. .
I am afraid that Washburn and Harwood have very little to do
with the Society to which they give their names. But not to
speak of myself I should think your case was easier. Your Parish
has been wholly used to one way of giving. It is presumable
that some of them know something about the Increase of the
jet. 37-38] CHURCH CONTROVERSIES 75
Ministry Society and prefer it. Why not let them specify their
contributions to either Society as they prefer, and then tell them
that the unappropriated balance is to be appropriated to the gen-
eral course of Theological Education at your discretion.
Mr. Brooks did not come forward as an advocate of any
reform in the matter at issue. lie continued to give occa-
sional aid to young men according to his individual judgment,
but in some cases experienced grievous disappointment with
the result. When his name was again placed in 1892 on the
list of Vice-Presidents of the Evangelical Educational Society
he wrote this letter to its secretary, the late Rev. K. C.
Matlack :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, February 17, 1892.
My dear Mr. Matlack, I am very grateful to those who
have done me the honor of electing an Honorary Vice-President
of the Evangelical Educational Society. I do not think it best,
however, to accept the position which is thus offered me, because
I feel that it would lead to a misunderstanding of my position
with reference to the Society.
A good many years ago I came to feel that educational aid
societies were not desirable and therefore withdrew from your
society of which I had been a member and a manager. I have
not changed my feeling with regard to it, and while I am con-
vinced that a great deal of good is done by your organization,
under your effective management, I cannot, with my convictions,
feel it right to take a position as even associated in an honorary
way with its administration.
I am sure you will understand my position, and will know that
I do not in the least undervalue the kindness of those who have
invited me to give my name.
Yours most sincerely,
Phillips Brooks.
Despite this action of Mr. Brooks in separating himself
from the managers of the Evangelical cause, there was no
break in his cordial relations with individuals who represented
the Evangelical principles as he understood them. Thus to
Mr. Cooper he writes, with reference to the petition which
had been often sent to the General Convention, asking that
the word " regenerate " might be omitted from the Baptismal
office, or its use made optional :
76 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
Hotel Kempton, Berkeley Street, Boston, March 23, 1871. '
Dear Cooper, I got your note, and last night I read your
article aloud to Vinton and we talked it over. It is very strongly
put, and the motive that you allude to, their possible dread of
being swamped by Ritualism, is the one thing that might make
the High Churchmen tolerate and concede a little to the Low
Churchmen. But they don't dread Ritualism enough to make
them yield their dear principle of "no change in the Prayer
Book." That has become a bigotry with them. So I do not
believe this General Convention is going to yield on the Prayer
Book in the least. Still I believe in asking them to. Let the
responsibility be on them and not on us. Let them not say we
did not ask. So I hope you will put your memorial in form very
soon and frankly and fairly let us sign it, and tell the Swells what
we poor creatures want.
I shall be on after the 12th of April, and then we '11 talk about
it all. We '11 get it out in Antique Type. Many thanks for
the Protest. I am to exchange with Jaggar on the 19th and
preach there morning and afternoon.
Always yours, P. B.
When Bishop Eastburn died, in 1872, who for more than
twenty-five years had been the rector of Trinity Church, Mr.
Brooks paid a tribute to his memory from the pulpit, in which
he took occasion to speak of the Evangelical movement which
the Bishop had represented. These words may be taken as
his deliberate and final judgment; they have the apparent
tone of one speaking from the outside, but the tone also of
one who was still within the circle from which he did not seek
escape :
The Evangelical movement had its zealous men here and there
throughout the land. The peculiarities of that movement were
an earnest insistence upon doctrine, and upon personal, spiritual
experience, of neither of which had the previous generation made
very much. Man's fallen state, his utter hopelessness, the vica-
rious atonement, the supernatural conversion, the work of the
Holy Spirit, these were the truths which the men of those days,
who were what were called "Evangelical" men, urged with the
force of vehement belief upon their hearers. They were great
truths. There were crude, hard, and untrue statements of them
very often, but they went deep ; they laid hold upon the souls and
consciences of men. They created most profound experiences.
*t. 37-38] CHURCH CONTROVERSIES 77
They made many great ministers and noble Christians. It was
indeed the work of God. To those of you who were his parishioners
and friends, who heard him preach year after year, and knew what
lay nearest to his heart, I need not say how entirely Bishop East-
burn was a man of this movement. His whole life was full of it.
He had preached its Gospel in New York with wonderful success
and power. He bore his testimony to it to the last in Boston.
A faith that was very beautiful in its childlike reliance upon God ;
a sturdy courage which would have welcomed the martyrdom of
more violent days ; a complete, unquestioning, unchanging loyalty
to the ideas which he had once accepted ; a deep personal piety,
which, knowing the happiness of divine communion, desired that
blessedness for other souls ; a wide sympathy for all of every
name who were working for the ends which he loved and desired ;
these with his kindly heart and constancy in friendship made the
power of the long ministry of Bishop Eastburn. The teaching of
this parish through twenty-six years was most direct and simple.
There was a dread, even, of other forms in which the same awak-
ening of spiritual life was manifest. The High Churchman and
the Broad Churchman found no tolerance. But the preacher was
one whom all men honored, whose strong moral force impressed the
young and old, whose sturdy independence was like a strong east
wind, and who went to his reward crowned with the love of many
and the respect of all. It seems but yesterday that his familiar
figure passed away. His voice is still fresh in our ears. The
old Church comes back, and he stands there in its pulpit, as he
must always stand, among the most marked and vigorous figures
in our parish history. It would not be right to renew our Church
life without cordial remembrance of his strength and faithfulness. 1
One other point there was of sharp divergence between the
Low Church and the High Church parties. It was the custom
of the former in administering the Lord's Supper to invite
the members of other religious denominations to remain to
the communion. With this custom Mr. Brooks was in
sympathy. When his brother Arthur came into collision
with the Bishop of Illinois, the Rt. Rev. Henry J. White-
house, who assumed the right to forbid such notice to be
given and to enforce the principle of " close communion " in
1 From a manuscript sermon, preached at Trinity Church, September 29,
1872, from the text, St. Matt. xxv. 21 : " Well done, thou good and faithful
Bervant."
78 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
the Episcopal Church, Mr. Brooks wrote these letters in
which he touches upon the principle involved :
Hotel Kempton, Berkeley Street, Boston, May 23, 1873.
Dear Arthur, I suppose it was to be expected that you
and Whitehouse would collide sooner or later, and the matter of
which you wrote to me seems to be a pretty good point to meet
on. I do not understand why Mr. has never objected before
to your action in inviting others than Episcopalians to the Com-
munion. You have been in St. James's almost a year. Have you
given the invitation all that time, and has he heard it and only now
since the Bishop's visit entered his remonstrance? That would
seem to show that he was acting under the Bishop's suggestion,
which would be a piece of parochial interference of which your
Bishop perhaps may be capable, but certainly no other in the
land. I certainly would not yield the matter to Mr. alone.
I would go and see him and have a square, friendly talk about it.
If he stands alone in his remonstrance I would not sacrifice what
may be a very desirable practice to his narrow whim. If there
are a considerable number in the parish who object I should dis-
continue it, but certainly take great pains to say in a sermon at the
same time what my real ground was, to explain the perfectly clear
position of our Church on the subject, and not to seem to fall low
before the footstool of the Bishop at his first assumption of
authority.
The position of our Church is perfectly clear. The Archbishop
of Canterbury himself in the Vance Smith dispute distinctly said
that the Collect which touches the question applied only to our
own people. The more I think of it the more I hope you will
continue it unless it is very clearly desirable to drop it. I would
not give it up out of mere courtesy to any man. At the same
time it is not so absolutely a thing of principle that it might not
be omitted if its use would seriously wound many people and
injure the parish. You surely have done right so far.
Of course you can judge better than I. Excuse my venturing
all these remarks, but you asked for them. . . . What an un-
pleasant Christian Whitehouse must be. . . .
But with all my heart I sympathize with your dread of a con-
troversy and of the cheap notoriety and the disgusting partisan-
ship that comes with it.
June 2, 1873.
I have received the Papers. What a cheerful sheet the
"Times" seems to be. It is so good and gentlemanly. Do you
*t. 37-38] CHURCH CONTROVERSIES 79
have much of that sort of Journalism in your town. As to the
whole effect, I think the Church at large will only say, "There 's
Bishop Whitehouse at it again," and then let the matter drop.
The "Boston Journal " has a paragraph made up from the "Chicago
Trihune " article on Saturday, which Father discovered, and so they
knew all about it at home. Then I told them all I knew about it.
They are calm. There is only one suggestion I want to make.
I do not think the notice is to be in any way considered or to be
either attacked or defended as an addition or interpolation in the
Service. It is an address by the Minister to the Congregation.
It is of the nature of Sermon and not of Liturgy, and considera-
tions of Liturgical Integrity have nothing to do with it. If a
minister is to be found fault with for doing it, it must be as he would
be blamed for any other statement that was considered faulty in
his Sermon, on the ground of false doctrine not of rubrical impro-
priety. But I dare say the breeze has blown itself out before this
and all is forgotten. . . .
Always yours, Phillips.
It was evident in these years, the early seventies, that
things were rapidly tending toward a separatist movement in
the Episcopal Church. The schism was finally consummated
in 1873 when the Reformed Episcopal Church was organized
under the leadership of Bishop Cummins of Kentucky.
With this movement Mr. Brooks had no sympathy, nor did
the idea of leaving the Church present itself to him as a
practical issue or as really affording any relief from the
grievances which he felt in common with the Evangelical
party. Despite the restrictive legislation, whose object and
end he regarded as separating the Episcopal Church from
intercommunion with the other Protestant churches, he held
it his duty to remain and, in whatever way was open, mani-
fest his sympathy for the principle of open communion and
other modes of Christian fellowship. No canon that had
been enacted forbade his preaching in the churches of other
denominations. He had the advantage of his brethren in
this respect that such opportunities were constantly afforded
him. He became conspicuous, almost the only Evangelical
Churchman remaining, who was in a position where he
could represent the natural affinity of the Protestant Epis-
copal Church with other Protestant bodies. More and more
80 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
this was to become a distinctive feature of his attitude. To
these and other similar points he alludes in his correspond-
ence with Miss Mitchell :
I have been off for a day down to Ipswich where Dr. Cotton
Smith had a clerical powwow for the Dean of Canterbury who
has come over to attend the Evangelical Alliance. He is a solid,
stolid-looking Englishman, an ecclesiastic from the rosette on his
hat to the buckle on his shoes, but a man of learning, reading
hard Sanscrit as you and I read easy English, and healthy and
wholesome through and through. Several other interesting peo-
ple are here, especially a few famous Germans, Dorner, the
"Person of Christ " man, and many others. But I do not think the
whole occasion promises much, and I shan't go on, though I give
it my hearty blessing at this distance. (October 3, 1873.)
The sermon is just done which is a rare event for Friday. It
is about the Evangelical Alliance, which seems to me as it has
gone on to have assumed a much larger look than it had at first,
and to be really a great and noble thing. It is really so great
that it can carry off a great many small faults, speeches here and
there in bad taste, and an occasional piece of bad temper. I can-
not see how such a meeting can fail to make Christianity stronger
and broader. (October 9, 1873.)
What do you think of the Bishop of Madagascar turning up in
New York and writing a letter to Bishop Potter, complaining
that the Dean of Canterbury had insulted the Archbishop of Can-
terbury ? There is a roundabout confession and ingenious intri-
cacy about it all which is nuts to the ecclesiastical mind. One
may count upon no end of dreary controversy about whether Christ
is willing that Dean Payne Smith should eat the Lord's Supper
in an Episcopal Church, but not in Dr. Adams's Presbyterian
Meeting House. As if all the great questions of faith and morals
were settled, and that one minute squabble was the last thing left.
Surely not till then will it begin to be of consequence. (October
15, 1873.)
And what do you think about Cummins ? What a panic it must
make among the bishops to know that a stray parson is round with
a true bit of their genuine succession, perfectly and indisputably
the thing, which he can give to anybody that he pleases ! Nothing
like it since the powwow among the gods when Prometheus stole
the fire. Would n't it be queer if Cummins actually became a
*t. 37-38] CHURCH CONTROVERSIES 81
critical event by the discontented from to going off and
o-etting the consecration of a new church from him. (November
20, 1873.)
I don't know anything that makes one feel more genuinely old
than to see that great recognizable changes and advances of the
current of thought have been made in our time, so that while we
see the new we can remember the old as something different. It
used to seem as if such changes took a half century at least.
Only fourteen years ago when I entered the ministry there were
the two old-fashioned parties, the Lows and Highs, over against
each other in a quiet, intelligent, comfortable way. Now you can
hardly find a representative of either among the younger men
except , and the Broad Churchmen and Ritualists divide the
field. Let us be thankful that we belong to the party of the
future. (December 11, 1873.)
I hear that is dead : another of that fading school of Evan-
gelicals who are fast passing away. One of the best of them
(the Evangelicals) died the other day, my old professor and friend
at Alexandria, Dr. Sparrow, one of the ablest and best men I ever
knew, learned and broad, and as simple as a child. I had a let-
ter from the dear old man, dated only two days before he died,
in which I was delighted to hear him say, "I am disposed to re-
gard the prospects of our Church brighter now than they have
ever been in my day." All the old men are croaking and help-
less, and it was good to hear one of them sanguine. (January 22,
1874.)
In May, 1874, the first steps were taken toward the
establishment of the American Church Congress. The aim
of its founders was to bring men together who differed in
their convictions, to ventilate questions which were subjects
of controversy in free untrammelled speech in the hope that
it would lead to a mutual confidence and understanding.
Churchmen of all schools of opinion were present, and amid
much earnestness and enthusiasm the new institution was
organized. Mr. Brooks was placed upon its Central Com-
mittee whose task was to select topics for discussion and
appoint the speakers.
Next week we go to New Haven, all of us Broad Churchmen,
to see what can be done to keep or make the Church liberal and
vol. n
82 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
free. There is a curious sort of sensitiveness and expectancy
everywhere in the Church, a sort of fear and feeling that things
cannot remain forever just as they are now, and a general looking
to the General Convention of next Fall as the critical time. The
last impression may he wrong because General Conventions are
not apt to be critical, but the other feeling has its foundation, and
one wonders what is coming out of it all. Certainly some sort of
broad church. A meeting such as this I speak of could not have
been possible ten years ago. Then the men could not have been
found to go ; now men are asking to be invited. (May 12, 1874.)
The Convention of the diocese of Massachusetts which met
in May to elect a successor to Bishop Eastburn reflected the
stormy times which were passing over the Episcopal Church.
The High Church candidate was the Rev. James De Koven
of Wisconsin. Mr. Brooks wanted Dr. Vinton to be the
Low Church candidate, and when he declined, voted for his
friend Rev. Henry C. Potter of Grace Church, New York.
When it became evident that Dr. Potter could not be elected,
a compromise was effected by which the choice of the Con-
vention fell on the Rev. Benjamin H. Paddock of Brooklyn,
N. Y. The Convention was a memorable one for the inten-
sity of feeling which prevailed. Among the glowing speeches
which were made, none equalled that of Dr. Vinton as he
stood forth in all the majesty of his appearance delivering
his impassioned appeal for evangelical truth. There was an-
other moment, which will not be forgotten by those present,
when the Rev. William R. Huntington of Worcester pre-
sented the name of Phillips Brooks, as a man surpassing all
others who had been named for the vacant Episcopate. But
the time for Phillips Brooks had not yet come. To the bishop-
elect, he wrote this letter pledging him his support :
Hotel Kempton, Berkeley Street, Boston, May 21, 1873.
Rev. and dear Sir, I have doubted whether I have any
right to add another to the multitude of letters which I know you
must have received with reference to your election to our episco-
pate. But I feel so deeply anxious that you should consent to be
our Bishop that I venture to add my assurance of cordial welcome
and hearty cooperation to all the others which must have come to
jet. 37-38] CORRESPONDENCE 83
you. I think I know Massachusetts pretty well, and I am deeply
convinced that our Church has a great and good work to do here.
She will not do it easily, nor hy simply standing still in idle as-
sertion of herself, hut if she will work for the people, the people
will understand her readily enough. I am sure that all the cir-
cumstances connected with your election promise a cordial and
unpartisan support of all your plans and lahors hy both the Clergy
and the Laity of our diocese, and knowing this I have ventured
to express to you my own sincere and anxious hope that you may
be able to come to us.
I beg you not to trouble yourself to answer this note, but
believe me, with much regard,
Most sincerely yours, Phillips Brooks,
Rector of Trinity Church, Boston.
It would have been a significant event for Massachusetts,
as for himself, had Mr. Brooks become its bishop in 1873 ;
but he refused to allow his name to be used, nor would he
have accepted the office if he had been elected. He had
other work to do as the rector of Trinity Church, and to this
work we now turn, and to the incidents which befell him from
1873 to 1877. These years constitute a distinct group in his
life. It was the time when Trinity Church dwelt in taber-
nacles, awaiting the completion of its new temple. His
preaching during this period was marked by increasing
power as he exerted himself to meet the emergency of a
church without a home. But before we come to the one lead-
ing event which gives unity and connected interest to these
years, we may follow him in his familiar correspondence.
These extracts are from his letters to Miss Mitchell :
The worst thing that I see about getting old, or older, is that
you get further away from the young people who are the best
people in the world. I never see a lot of boys without wanting
to be among them, and wishing they would let me into their com-
pany and being sure that they won't. I hate to think that boys
of sixteen think of me as I used to think of men of thirty-seven
when I was their age. Most of the wisdom of old age is humbug.
I was struck dreadfully by what you said about the prevalent dis-
content with life that one hears so much of. It 's awful, and is
the most unchristian thing one has to deal with. I fancied it was
84 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
more the fashion here, hut I suppose I have forgotten how much of
the same thing I used to hear in Philadelphia, or perhaps it did
not impress me so much then. I pray God that I may die before
I get so tired of living. (January 29, 1873.)
I have just been going again through Hessey's Bampton Lec-
tures, which is satisfactory enough in all the theory of the matter ;
and I don't think there is nearly as much trouble about its prac-
tical aspects as there sometimes appears to be. At any rate a
good conscience is the best guide about keeping Sunday or enfor-
cing it in others. There is very little indeed in the way of positive
law to be made out about it. It seems to me there is a strange
lack of faith in the way that the strict Inspirationists and the
stricter Sabbatarians are always in a panic lest the Book or the
Day, which they above all others claim for God, should come to
grief.
I am having an off week, that is, I have no sermon to write
because I go to New Haven on Sunday to preach for the students.
I shall stay with Harwood, and if all goes as it went last year I
shall have a good time. It is the first Sunday that I have not
preached at home since I returned from Europe, except one Sunday
in November when my Church burned down ; and except once, when
Percy Browne preached for me, I have not had a single exchange
or supply all that time. (February 7, 1873.)
"Keil on the Kings " is a very good commentary as commenta-
ries go, a little overburdened with linguistics, but on the whole
telling you (I mean me) rather less of what I know already and
more of what I don't than most commentaries. But they are all
a poor set. Lange has a good deal that is interesting and valu-
able, but, bless me, who could n't have a few pennies if he swept
all the gutters in town and saved all the rubbish. (March 26,
1873.)
I am just come back from Andover where I went to lecture to
the Congregational Divinity Students about Preaching. It was
quite interesting to me if not to them. . . . They ask hard ques-
tions which you rather despair of answering, not because of the
difficulty of the question, but because it shows such a queer state
of mind in the questioner. I stayed with Professor Park, who is
charming, bright, witty, and genial. . . . Have you read a book
about Dissent by an English Bampton lecturer? (April 3, 1873.)
I am sorry to find on getting home there is some trouble, I
can't tell how serious yet, about the new church. The land
^ T - 37-38] CORRESPONDENCE 85
proves not so good as the average of the made land, and the piles
which we have driven in it will not probably hold a building of the
weight of ours. We don't want to go down any lower than we
are, and so some modification of the plan must probably be made.
I hope the change will not need to be great, and will improve
instead of injuring the building. (May 9, 1873.)
How interesting and beautiful Tom Hughes's little book is!
[Memoirs of a Brother.] I wonder whether the brother was as
good as he is described. What he (the brother) actually does in
the way of letters, etc., didn't strike me much. He is the first
man on record, I think, who ever dedicated his life to the health
of his Mother-in-law. I am homesick still when I remember my
pleasant visit. I shall live now on the hope of the Fall. (May
16, 1873.)
I am busy writing what is a sort of Biographical Oration for
what is after a fashion my native town, Andover. It is to be
delivered at the opening of their Memorial Hall next week. I
don't like the work. Sermons I like to write, the more the bet-
ter, as many as the deluded folk will sit and hear, but anything
else except this weekly letter comes hard. I have a pretty obsti-
nacy when I am asked to do anything right away, but when the
task is three months off, I am apt to be feeble and assent, and by
and by the day comes on like Fate. (May 22, 1873.)
I have been much interested in reading up about the old Puri-
tan town. What a curious set they were. So estimable and so
deadly dull, sober and serious to a degree that is frightful to think
of, but strong and tough as granite. The modern religion looks so
gentle beside them. I came across this sentence yesterday in that
most unpleasant book, Galton's "Hereditary Genius," which has
just a vexatious amount of truth in it, "A gently complaining and
tired spirit is that in which Evangelical Divines are apt to pass
their days." . . . X made a prayer at the new Hall to-day
in which he thanked the Lord for the workmen who had been
engaged upon the building, that "He had given his angels charge
over them that none of them should strike his foot against a
stone." What do you think of that for a reverent and beautiful
use of Scripture ? (May 30, 1873.)
After this month I am going to shut up the Hall, and use
Emmanuel Church which is ordinarily closed during the summer.
I shall be there every Sunday except when I occasionally get Mr.
86 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
Tiffany to take my place. One Sunday in July I mean to be in
Philadelphia, to preach for the Advent people. . . . Then I am
going to Newport for a few days and perhaps to Mount Desert,
and so I hope to worry through the summer comfortably. Next
year comes Europe again. . . . Mr. died the other day. . . .
One wouldn't like to stay quite as long as he has, but with the
world such as it is, there is great temptation to linger at the feast
a good while yet. (June 5, 1873.)
I am very much interested in the progress of my new Church.
The foundations are going up very fast, and the scene is a lively
and hopeful one. We hope to get all our foundations in before
winter stops our work. And what a splendid Autumn we are
having. Such days as these that keep coming one after another
are always a surprise. (October 15, 1873.)
I wonder what sort of knowledge we shall have of our friends
when we get to the other side, and what we shall do to keep up
our intimacy with one another. There will be one good thing
about it. I suppose we shall see right through one another to
begin with, and start off on quite a new basis of mutual under-
standing. It will be awful at first, but afterwards it must be
quite pleasant to feel that your friends know the worst of you and
not be continually in danger and in fear that they will find you
out. But then with all Eternity ahead there must be a constantly
oppressive fear that your friends will get tired of you. (October
23, 1873.)
I have been writing to-day an essay on " Heresy, " and have got
quite interested in the subject. I have been rather surprised to
find how clearly in the New Testament and all the way down in
the healthiest periods of Theology, as in Augustine and in the
English Reformation at its best, Heresy has meant obstinacy,
a fault of the Will, not a mistake of the Intellect. The worst
persecutors seem to me to have had some dim feeling of this when
they reconciled themselves to the burning of heretics. They
must have had some feeling of the moral character of heresy how-
ever woefully their prejudices have blinded them in imputing it
in special cases. (October 30, 1873.)
We Boston folk have been celebrating our Centennial Tea
Party. We got together in Faneuil Hall and drank tea and
listened to speeches yesterday afternoon. And we had old Mr.
Frailey and young Mr. Brown of Philadelphia, among a lot of
other people, to talk to us. . . .
-*t. 37-38] CORRESPONDENCE 87
Nobody can help feeling Agassiz's death. Apart from the scien-
tific greatness, he was such a delightful man, so fresh and joyous
and simple. It does surely seem as if he had gone at the right
time, falling without decay and setting without twilight. 'T is
strange to see how many people knew him here, and how many
others feel as if they had known him and mourn his death as a
personal loss. It was a good, cheerful, wholesome life.
Three weeks from to-night I hope to start for Philadelphia.
Fix which night you will for me to dine with you, and I will come
up to the trial without a flinch. Please let me know when it is
settled. . . . Sunday I shall give to my old Advent folk whom
I am proud to find caring for me after so many years. ... I
am glad that the Bible does n't say anything about the idle words
which people twite. (December 17, 1873.)
The clock has just struck, and I wish you a Happy New Year
with all my heart. "What a splendid night for the New Year to
come in on. The snow and moonlight are gorgeous and promise
glorious winter days. I wonder what will happen before the year
grows old! Certainly lots of pleasant things and probably some
that will be ugly enough. We have had a service this evening
which reminded me of the old-time watch-meeting at St. Philip's.
You and Cooper were not there, but sat on the front seat
without the blow in her bonnet, but with quite enough of the
old look to bring back the old days. And the first beauty of the
New Year is that I am coming on to see you all, and a week from
to-night shall be upon my way. You do not know how much I
depend upon it. The Saturday evening dinner will be the great
event, and I will stay and smoke as long as you please after it is
over. Dear me, how many things there are to enjoy in the old
year and the new. I think nobody ever had altogether a plea-
santer life than I have. Thalaba was nothing to me. (Janu-
ary 1, 1874. 12.03 a. m.)
I have come home from a Wednesday evening lecture, which I
always enjoy; the only indication that I have that the people
enjoy it is that they come in large numbers. Though they may
talk about it among themselves, I myself never get any idea
whether I hit them or not. Still I jog on and am very cheerful.
I don't care for applause, but I do like to have some idea whether
people are interested or not. (January 25, 1874.)
All yesterday was a hard pull at a sermon which is to be
preached this morning, and is n't good for much, I am afraid. It
seemed pretty good and important before I began to write it;
88 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
but somehow it did n't get on to paper as I wanted it to. I am
sure I have got better sermons in me somewhere than I have got
out yet, but probably fifteen years would have brought them.
(February 13, 1874.)
Charles Kingsley is here, and lectured to us on Monday evening.
It was good to see the author of " Hypatia " in the flesh, but the
Lecture wasn't much, and he is the Englishest of Englishmen.
Then his laudation of this country was overmuch, and we were
unnecessarily reminded of how he hated us and hoped good things
for the rebellion during our war.
Of course I don't read anything nowadays, but "The Princess of
Thule " shall be my next novel. I didn't make much out of
"Old Pendleton." The over-description worried me and I gave
it up, and have not tried it again, but I dare say I shall by and
by. I am reading Forster's "Life of Sir John Eliot," a book I
have long meant to get at, with much delight. Eight weeks from
to-day I '11 be in Philadelphia. (February 19, 1874.)
How sad this sudden news of Sumner's death, and how it makes
us realize the lack of great men among us. And certainly Sum-
ner was in many respects a great man. The time of his depar-
ture like Agassiz's seems to be just what one would wish for him.
Neither of them was a man whom one would like to see crawling
about in decrepitude. (March 11, 1874.)
Poor Sumner's funeral was a wonderful outburst of public feel-
ing about a man who had won it by sheer force of character and
principle. He was never popular . . . but true as steel and capa-
ble of ideas. We hope to have a good man in his place, probably
Judge Hoar or Mr. Adams. The country is not as bad as you
think it. Certainly no other land offers us anything to envy.
Surely England settling down on Disraeli, just to get rid of the
trouble and tumult of reform, is about as unpleasant a sight as one
can see.
Have you read the book of a Mr. Pater on the Renaissance ?
It is wonderfully fresh and full of its subject. Then I got a book
of Masson's the other day on Drummond of Hawthornden, of
which I have read a few pages that promise something charming.
(March 19, 1874.)
Certainly there is nothing to make us despair of our Govern-
ment in the present state of things. The arrogance of able and
corrupt men is something we could never have expected to escape,
t. 37-38] CORRESPONDENCE 89
and so far it has been less powerful among us than in the his-
tory of any other nation, and the present strongest sign of the
times is a violent outbreak and protest against it. (March 26,
1874.)
I am in the thick of Lent, with the usual enjoyment of its
spirit, and the usual misgiving about the way in which we try to
make it useful to our people. It is trying to see how, just as
soon as we attempt to give religion its fit expression, we are
instantly in danger of formalism and the mere piety of outside
habits. Yet still there is a great deal in changing habits which
mean sad things, for habits which mean good things, for a little
while, and some of the meaning does get into people's hearts. . . .
How hard it is to write an Easter sermon. The associations of
the day are so dependent that it is really difficult to bring it
close to people's lives. But it is remarkable how men like your
friend , who give up so much about Jesus, still cling to the
truth of the Resurrection. (March 31, 1874.)
We have had Principal Tulloch here. He was at our Church
last Sunday, and I spent the evening with him at Mr. Winthrop's.
I want you to see him when he comes to Philadelphia. He is a
splendid Scotchman. (April 30, 1874.)
I 'd like to talk with you some time about that matter of the
judging of people's characters before and after death. I don't
think we 'd much disagree. (May 8, 1874.)
Last Sunday we tried here to have a Hospital Sunday like the
English institution, and the result was very successful. The spirit
was good and the collections large, and it brought all classes and
denominations together. Trinity gave $3200. . . . Our new
Chapel begins to look beautifully, and by the time you are here
the walls will be almost done. ... So don't fail to come. My
love to Weir. (May 12, 1874.) l
There are two incidents mentioned in the above extracts
which call for some slight expansion. The first is treated in
a casual manner, but was full of significance, the address
afterwards published, which was delivered at the dedication
of the Memorial Hall in Andover. Apart from his associa-
1 Here closes the correspondence with Miss Mitchell. She died soon after
the letter was written, from which this extract is taken.
go PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
tion with the civil war which the hall commemorated, or his
fame as a pulpit orator, Phillip Brooks had been chosen as
spokesman for the occasion because he was the descendant
of those who were connected with the town from its earliest
history, and who, in later years, had done much to make it
famous. Thus he was recognized by Professor Park of An-
dover, in the impressive prayer which followed the address,
" It is of Thy goodness, O Lord, that we have been permit-
ted on this day of our solemnity to hear the voice of one
whose godly ancestors our fathers delighted to honor." It
is a suggestive coincidence that while he was looking into
the history of Andover in making preparation for his address,
he was also reading Galton on " Hereditary Genius," and the
picture was before him of the generations of the Andover
Phillipses. His address was beautiful, pervaded with a joy-
ous tone, with the conviction that he had a right to speak,
and that in speaking he represented what was uppermost in
the minds of his hearers :
If I wanted to give a foreigner some clear idea of what that
excellent institution, a New England town, really is, in its history
and its character, in its enterprise and its sobriety, in its godli-
ness and its manliness, I should be sure that I could do it if I
could make him perfectly familiar with the past and present of
Andover. Nor can one know the old town well and not feel, how-
ever, its scenery has the same typical sort of value which belongs
to all its life. All that is most characteristic in our New England
landscape finds its representation here. Its rugged granite breaks
with hard lines through the stubborn soil, its sweep of hill and
valley fills the eye with various beauty. Its lakes catch the
sunlight on their generous bosoms. Its rivers are New England
rivers ready for work and yet not destitute of beauty. If every-
where our New England scenery suggests to the imagination that
is sensitive to such impressions some true resemblance to the
nature of the people who grow up among its pictures, nowhere are
such suggestions clearer than in this town which is so thoroughly
part and parcel of New England.
Mr. Brooks went often to Andover at this time to visit his
youngest brother who was taking his first year of theological
study. The Rt. Rev. "William Lawrence, who was also in the
^t. 37-38] ANDOVER 91
seminary, has given his impressions of him, speaking of the
interest that he showed in the discussion of theological ques-
tions, how he always wished to hear what Professor Park had
been teaching on Original Sin and other topics, but was more
anxious to get at the truth of the matter, than talk over
opinions, or compare them with his own. Of his address on
Preaching, before the Andover students, Bishop Lawrence
says :
I have often wished that an exact report of that lecture had been
taken, for as I remember it, it followed exactly the lines of his
Yale Lectures, step by step. I mention it also to speak of the
impression which bis closing prayer made upon the students. He
finished bis address and then, quite naturally, and, as it seemed,
unexpectedly to himself, be felt moved to say, "Let us pray,"
and at the same desk from which we had heard extemporary pray-
ers from the professors he offered a prayer which, as compared
with theirs, was so beautiful that, as one of the fellows said
afterwards, he had to open his eyes to see how a man looked when
he prayed like that.
I wonder at the amount of time that he put into talks with us
when we were at college and at the seminary, but I have no doubt
that he welcomed us simply as representative of what a lot of
other fellows were thinking. For after a talk with him on a
week day, one could sometimes feel and even discover the results
of the talk in the next Sunday morning's sermon.
The other incident to which allusion is made in the cor-
respondence with Miss Mitchell deserves notice as a land-
mark in his theological growth. The essay on " Heresy,"
there mentioned, was read before the " Clericus Club " in
October, 1873. Though not written for publication, it has
been given a place in his " Essays and Addresses." Its sig-
nificance lies in his discernment that religious thought was
entering upon a new stage of development, whose motive was
to gain a deeper insight into the meaning of doctrines, and to
give them a fuller statement, intelligible to the modern world.
In this process it would become necessary to redefine the word
which in the history of the past had been affixed as a stigma
to every departure from received theological expressions. He
therefore inquired into the meaning of the word " heresy."
92 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
He found that in the New Testament it carried a moral sig-
nificance, the presupposition of a vicious will. In its appli-
cation in ecclesiastical history, where it stands for a diver-
gence from received opinions, there could still be detected
the earlier use, the assumption that any one diverging
from prevailing statements of doctrine must at heart be
bad. The essay raises the question of intellectual responsi-
bility, the existence of such a sin as the self-will of the
intellect.
Heretic is a word of personal guilt. It had that tone when
Paul used it, and it has kept it ever since. But I am sure that
we have all felt, and perhaps reproached ourselves for feeling,
how impossible it was for us in any real way to attach the notion
of personal guilt to those who were called heretics in the ordinary
uses of the word. We have been unable to feel any vehement
condemnation for the earnest and truth-seeking Errorist, or any
strong approbation for the flippant and partisan Orthodox. There
was no place for the first in the hell, nor for the second in the
heaven, which alone our consciences tell us that the God whom
we worship could establish. Speaking in the atmosphere of the
New Testament, we cannot call the first a heretic, nor the second
a saint, and our misgivings are perfectly right. The first is not
a heretic, the second is not a saint. . . . The first may be a
saint in his error, the second, to use Milton's fine phrase, may
be a "heretic in the truth."
Unless we hold to the authority of the infallible Church, the
ecclesiastical conception of the sin of heresy is impossible. Unless
we hold that all truth has been so perfectly revealed that no
honest mind can mistake it (and who can believe that ?), the
dogmatic conception of heresy fails. But if we can believe in the
conscience, and God's willingness to enlighten it, and man's duty
to obey its judgments, the moral conception of heresy sets defi-
nitely before us a goodness after which we may aspire, and a sin
which we may struggle against and avoid.
In ordinary talk men will call him a heretic who departs from
a certain average of Christian belief far enough to attract their
attention. Men will speak of heresy as if it were synonymous
with error. It may be that the word is so bound up with old
notions of authority that it must be considered obsolete, and can
be of little further use. And yet there is a sin which this word
describes, which it describes to Paul and Augustine and Jeremy
Taylor, a sin as rampant in our day as in theirs. It is the self-
*t. 37-38] KING'S CHAPEL 93
will of the intellect. It is the belief of creeds, whether they he
true or false, because we choose them, and not because God
declares them. It is the saying, "I want this to be true," of any
doctrine, so vehemently that we forget to ask, "Is it true?"
When we do this, we depart from the Christian church, which i3
the kingdom of God, and the discipleship of Christ. With the
danger of that sin before our eyes, remembering how often we
have committed it, feeling its temptation ever present with us,
we may still pray with all our hearts, "From heresy, good Lord,
deliver us."
Among the varied incidents whose only bond of connection
is Phillips Brooks, there is one which caused at the moment
a flutter in Episcopal circles in Boston, the occupation of
King's Chapel on Ash Wednesday, 1874, by an Episcopal
congregation. For the first time in its history an Episcopal
bishop officiated within its walls. To those unfamiliar with
the circumstances it seemed portentous with some hidden
significance. The famous building was crowded with an
eager, curious audience, studying the ancient structure, its
chancel and communion table, its reading desk and pulpit,
preserved unchanged, unimpaired by modern improvements,
since the day when Episcopal rectors presided there, in this
first home of Episcopacy in Boston. But if the event did not
have the significance which some attributed to it, the pos-
sible regaining for the Episcopal Church of this honored
shrine in its early history, it did yet possess a deeper
and larger significance, as the manifestation of Christian
charity. It had been offered to Phillips Brooks, as the
rector of Trinity Church, for the delivery of the Price Lec-
tures, the condition of whose endowment required that the
Lectures be given either in Christ Church, King's Chapel, or
Trinity Church. The kind offer came from the late Rev.
Henry W. Foote, then the minister of King's Chapel, a man of
beautiful and saintly character, beloved by all who knew him,
whose death in the prime of his manhood brought the deepest
sense of loss and sorrow. Bishop Paddock had already been
invited to deliver the Price Lecture before Mr. Foote had
offered the use of his church, and so it came about that a
94 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
bishop of the Episcopal Church officiated for the first time
in King's Chapel.
The summer of 1874 was spent in Europe. He was accom-
panied on this visit by Rev. Arthur Brooks, who was seeing
the Old World for the first time, and for a great part of the
summer they were together. The trip differed from previous
ones, in that he saw more of people. The traditional Ameri-
can prejudice against the English, which he had hitherto
shared, to some extent, was disappearing. He received more
hospitality than on former visits, and found everybody quite
cordial and civil. It was mostly the clergy with whom he
became acquainted, but he remarks that clergymen and lay-
men have more common interests than in America. They
were talking much at this time about the Public Worship Bill
at dinner tables and in the newspapers, which surprises him,
as things of this kind at home are ordinarily confined to Gen-
eral Conventions. Of London, where he spent a few weeks,
he writes that he saw it all over again with his brother, find-
ing in it much of which he never tires. It was a special
pleasure to have been shown over Westminster Abbey by the
Dean. His acquaintance with Dean Stanley was now ripen-
ing into friendship ; he received from him and from Lady
Augusta Stanley the most cordial hospitality, and as a final
mark of complete confidence was invited to preach in the
Abbey, a courtesy extended in England only to leading pulpit
orators or high dignitaries. Dean Stanley gave the invitation
after having assured himself that he could not be mistaken in
thinking that Phillips Brooks would serve the purpose for
which the services on Sunday evenings in the Abbey had been
instituted. The fame of the preacher had in some way
already reached England. Many were desirous to hear him,
and the nave of the Abbey was filled. The subject of the
sermon was the Positiveness of the Divine Life, the text taken
from Galatians v. 16 : " This I say then, Walk in the Spirit
and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh." 1 The friends of
Mr. Brooks at home were pained by the report that his sermon
was a failure in consequence of his not making himself heard.
1 This sermon is printed in the first volnme of his Sermons, p. 373.
jet. 37-38] WESTMINSTER ABBEY 95
In the words of an American newspaper correspondent,
" After the first ten minutes the speaker was inaudible at a
few yards distance, having pitched his voice too high for the
old Abbe}'." That there was some passing embarrassment is
evident, but how differently Mr. Brooks regarded it from the
newspaper correspondent is seen by his allusion to his expe-
rience in a letter to Rev. Charles D. Cooper, " The preach-
ing went very well when I got used to the size of the Abbey."
Another comment on the occurrence is interesting, because
the writer of it, who was present, says that the preacher was
distinctly heard :
About six o'clock p. m. we all started for church service at old
Westminster Abbey where Phillips Brooks of Boston was adver-
tised to preach at seven o'clock. We went quite early anticipating
a crowd and secured a tolerably good position. The nave of the
church where the services are held on Sunday evenings was very
soon crowded. There was a choral service by men and boys.
Dean Stanley read the Lessons and Mr. Brooks preached. . . .
It is a very hard place to preach in . . . but he was distinctly
heard, and the sermon was worthy of his reputation. It was a
plain, practical enforcement of the great truths of his text, enun-
ciated in simple yet elegant language, and altogether such a style
of preaching as those old walls are not accustomed to. There
may be better preachers here than the Rector of Trinity Church,
Boston, but if so we have yet to hear them. We reached home
soon after nine, grateful that we had had the privilege of hearing
Mr. Brooks in Westminster Abbey, and still more grateful that
God had given to Boston such a man and such a preacher.
Other acquaintances among the English clergy whom
he mentions are Canon Fremantle and Professor Stanley
Leathes, in whose church, St. Philip's, Regent Street, he
preached. From London he passed to the Continent to spend
several weeks, wandering through Normandy and Brittany,
thence to Venice, and back through the Tyrol over the great
Ampezzo Pass that he had long wanted to see, stopping at
Innsbruck, Munich, Ratisbon, Nuremberg, Heidelberg ; and
at Worms, to which he was attracted by the memory of
Luther. He liked to revisit spots like these with which he
was already familiar, but the trip had been mainly planned
96 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
for the convenience of his brother. The sense of vacation,
he writes, was complete and made Boston seem far away.
The main interest was in looking at churches in Normandy
and Brittany, the richness and beauty of whose architecture
impressed him. He was gathering suggestions which would
afterwards be of service.
We went up to Rouen and spent a lovely day among its old
Gothic architecture. There is nothing more beautiful in Europe.
Then we struck off into the country and for a week we have been
wandering among old Norman towns . . . each with its churches
six or eight hundred years old, some with magnificent cathedrals.
. . . For a week we have wandered on through Brittany, looked
at old castles and cathedrals. ... I have been amazed at the
richness of the old architecture of the country. In little out-of-
the-way villages, reached only by rickety country wagons, we have
found glorious and immense churches of rarest beauty, churches
that took centuries to build, and stand to-day perfect in their
splendor, with wonderful glass in their windows, and columns and
capitals that take your breath away for beauty. 1
As he wandered he was thinking of the new Trinity Church
in Boston that was growing in his absence. To Mr. Robert
Treat Paine he sends these letters :
Tours, France, August 4, 1874.
Dear Bob, . . . And how's the new Church? I dreamed
of it when I wrote to you from London, and now I dream of it
again, slowly rising, course on course. I should n't wonder if
the robing room were done up to the eaves, but I would give much
to step out of the hotel and look in the gorgeous moonlight at
that blessed lot on the Back Bay. Sometimes I am very impa-
tient at being away while it is all going on, but I comfort myself
with promises of coming home to harder work with the first Sun-
day in October. I think of many things at this distance which if
I can really do them when I get to Boston will make the Parish
more entirely what it should be than, by my fault, it has been
yet.
Normandy and Brittany have both been very great. O my
dear Bob, such old glass as one sees in these Churches little and
big. Some dreary little village off as far as Holaker or Aak will
have windows, a whole nave and choir and transepts full of them,
that would make our new Trinity the glory of America forever.
1 Letters of Travel, pp. 173-176.
*t. 37-38] CORRESPONDENCE 97
But we cannot have it, and the modern French glass seems to me
poor, not at all equal to the hest English.
I should like to he with you at Waltham now. My kindest
love to Mrs. Paine and the children, and do write me often.
Always sincerely yours, P. B.
Munich, August 30, 1874.
Dear Bob, I thank you again for your kindness in writing
to me. Yours of the 4th, a right good letter, reached me a few
days ago in Venice. First let me say how I rejoice with you and
Mrs. Paine in the birth of your little hoy. Nothing can he indif-
ferent to me that comes to your household where I have heen so
kindly made one of yourselves, and this new joy of yours is a joy
to me too. May God hless the hoy and make him all your heart
can wish. I hope to know him better as the years go on.
I must not say much about the Church because these twenty-
six days since your letter must have changed many things. Only
do keep down the expense. Let 's decorate and beautify at our
leisure, but start as clear as possible. I hear all sorts of good
things about the new Chapel. "If the Church can equal the
Chapel," says one, "it will be a great success." I look forward
most impatiently to seeing it and going to work in it. The
corner stone ought to be laid about the middle or last of October.
We will go right about our preparations when I get home, but it
will take two or three weeks to make the preparations and give
the necessary notice. The notion of setting the old rosettes is
first-rate.
So much for the Church. My summer goes swimmingly. I
came down through Switzerland from France to Italy, but did no
climbing. My climbing days are over. They never amounted to
much. I only looked at Chamouni and Zermatt. Five royal
days I spent in Venice. It was exquisite weather, and the gondola
suited my lazy mood completely. Now my face is set towards
England which I shall slowly reach, and then after two or three
more days in London I sail in the Siberia for Boston on the 17th.
How many things I have coveted for the new Church. There
was a big mosaic at Salviati's that would glorify our Chancel.
But let all that wait. Shall we not all be ready to continue our
subscriptions for the new Church till it is done?
On the first Sunday in October, then, we are together again and,
bright as this all is, I shall be truly glad.
My love to all your household, not forgetting the last born,
and I am
Always yours, P. B.
VOL. II
98 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
No traveller returns to his own country, when the long
ocean passage intervenes, without some measure of suspense or
misgiving, lest bad news should await him on his arrival.
For Mr. Brooks there was in reserve a great sorrow, in the
sudden death of his brother Frederick. The story is told
in his father's words, entered in a family record, where he
chronicled briefly the events in the lives of his sons. The
story of Frederick Brooks's short life summarily interrupted
at the threshold of what promised to be a career of unusual
success ends thus :
In September, 1874, he came to the city to see a young friend
who was sick, and who was to take charge of a school at Cleve-
land. Finding him unable, he went to Lowell for a teacher,
September 15. On returning from there in the Boston & Lowell
train he left the train at East Cambridge, intending to walk
home on the railroad bridge. The night being dark he fell
through the draw and was drowned. This was about 8.30 p. M.
He was thirty-two years of age. The body was not found until
tbe 20th in the Charles River. Funeral services were held Sep-
tember 24, at Emmanuel Church, and he was laid in Mount
Auburn.
The friendship between these two brothers was close and
beautiful. The older brother had followed with sympathetic
interest and aid every step of the younger brother's progress,
from his days in the Latin School, and then through Harvard
College. Two years they had lived together while Frederick
Brooks was at the Divinity School in Philadelphia. For the
aid, the sympathy, the brotherly love he received, the younger
brother showed his appreciation, as when he wrote to Phillips :
" I wish you would let me say what a jump I give to get one
of your letters. They are one of the things that help along
my year mightily." From the time of his ordination, Fred-
erick Brooks was recognized as a preacher of singular attrac-
tiveness. Calls to various parishes had been the evidence
that he was recognized as having some important work to
do. For a time he had been at Des Moines, Iowa, to get
a touch of "Western life ; then he became rector of a promi-
nent church, St. Paul's, in Cleveland, Ohio. To the interests
*t. 37-38] FREDERICK BROOKS 99
of this church he gave, says his brother, " devoted care, prov-
ing himself a rare pastor and preacher, helping and teaching
many souls, and building his parish work with singular solidity
and power." He became editor of the " Standard of the
Cross," and gave the paper " a marked and noble character."
His inherited interest in education led him to establish a
school in Cleveland, which should give the best classical
preparation. In this cause he came to his lamented death.
The first of the two letters that follow was written to Dr.
Weir Mitchell, the second to the Rev. George Augustus
Strong :
Boston, Tuesday, September 29, 1874.
Dear Weir, I cannot say how much I thank you for your
letter. It has helped me through to-day, but I seem all lost and
bewildered with such an utterly unlooked-for sorrow. It will all
come right by and by, but just now there is nothing to do except
to sit down and think it all over in a dull and weary sort of way.
Fred was very near to me, and few people knew, what crowds
would have known a few years hence, the ability and character
that was in him. That is not gone out, and must have some
richer field to work in than this world. But it is the terrible-
ness of it all, and the way we shall miss him and need him all
our lives, and the wretchedness at home where Father and Mother
are as brave and forlorn as possible.
Boston, October 18, 1874.
My dear George, I never knew how good a friend you
were till I got your letter last week about dear Fred. Since I
came home I have thought of writing to you because I wanted to
talk with you, and because I knew you had seen something of him
who was not out of my thoughts for a moment, though I had no
idea how well you knew him and how much you cared for him,
and because I wanted to thank you for the good kind words you
sent to Father and Mother, which helped their poor hearts very
much. But I did n't write, and by and by your letter came. I
should be quite ashamed to say fully with what feeling I read it.
It has been good to hear a great many people say kind and honor-
able and appreciative things about Fred, but there were so few
who knew him well enough to really love him and feel as I feel
about the beauty of his simple working and thinking life.
I cannot write about him, but I should like so much to be with
you in your home and hear you talk of him. I do want so to see
ioo PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-74
you, my dear George. These three weeks since I came home
have been, just between ourselves, pretty wretched. I have tried
and tried to get out of my mind the dreadful circumstances of it
all. When I can shut them out for a moment and think only of
his life here and the life he has begun beyond I am more than
happy. I am thankful and full of rejoicing. But almost all the
time the terrible scene is before me, and I think I have come
nearer to being gloomy and out of heart with life than I ever did
before. But I have n't been and I shan't be.
I am talking all about myself. To my Father and Mother,
who are getting old now, and whose house is empty of their chil-
dren, it has been sad enough. It makes my heart ache to go up
there and see them. Thank you again for your kind thought-
fulness. I am coming out to Cleveland this week.
On Sunday the 25th of October Mr. Brooks stood in his
brother's pulpit in Cleveland, Ohio, preaching in the morn-
ing from the text, " Are the consolations of God small with
thee ? " (Job xv. II), 1 and in* the afternoon another well-
known sermon, with the title, " The good will of Him that
dwelt in the Bush" (Deut. xxxiii. 16). 2 Again in the even-
ing he preached, and his text was, "It became Him, for
whom are all things, and by whom are all things, ... to make
the captain of their salvation perfect through sufferings "
(Heb. ii. 10). This was the record of a day to be remem-
bered by the preacher and his hearers. Another duty de-
volved upon him, to visit the deserted room where the traces
of activity suddenly interrupted were all about him. Into his
musings, as he sat there alone with memory, we do not enter.
He looked over the sermons of his brother, and from them
selected a volume for publication. In the preface, he alluded
briefly to the beauty and power of his life. At a later time,
when writing his Lectures on Preaching, he made this terse
reference without further explanation, " To-day I have been
thinking of one whom I knew, nay, one whom I know,
who finished his work and went to God."
1 Sermons, vol. i. p. 98. 2 Ibid. vol. ii. p. 39.
CHAPTER IV
1873-1877
SERVICES IN HUNTINGTON HALL. EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-
BOOKS. METHOD OF PREPARING SERMONS. ESSAY ON
COURAGE. CONTEMPORANEOUS ACCOUNTS OF PHILLIPS
BROOKS AS A PREACHER. TESTIMONY OF PRINCIPAL
TULLOCH.
During more than four years the congregation of Trinity-
Church worshipped in Huntington Hall on Boylston Street.
If it were a disadvantage - to be deprived of the accessories
and associations which make religion impressive, yet there
were compensations. The location was more convenient, the
accommodations more ample, and to many it constituted an
inducement rather than a hindrance that the reminders of
conventional worship were wanting. But it required a greater
effort on the part of the preacher to hold his congregation
together during this unexpectedly long period of waiting.
That Mr. Brooks felt the harder necessity which had been
placed upon him, and summoned his strength to meet it, is
apparent in many ways, but chiefly in the greater results which
he accomplished. The extracts which were cited in a previous
chapter might seem to indicate that he had already taken the
place in Boston which he had occupied in Philadelphia. But
there is some evidence going to show that the three years in
the old church on Summer Street had not exhibited the fruit
anticipated. Thus the afternoon service on Sundays con-
tinued to be thinly attended, however large might be the
congregation in the morning. This problem of the Sunday
afternoons and the second service was an unwelcome inherit-
ance, not easily overcome. To a clerical friend who once
preached for him to one of these small congregations, he
io2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
remarked that it was not like the old days in Philadelphia.
Then the church had been filled to its utmost capacity, in the
afternoon as well as in the morning.
Prom the time that he began to officiate in Huntington
Hall, there came a change so marked in the direction and
the manifestation of his power that these years were not
remembered or lamented as a period of deprivation of eccle-
siastical privileges, but rather cherished for the richer
spiritual influence which they brought. The secular hall
took on a sacred character. The preacher rose high above
disadvantage or limitation. The afternoon service soon be-
gan to be as well attended as the morning, nor were the
accommodations sufficient to meet the demands of the throng-
ing congregation. It was a reminder of the early days of
the Christian church, when as yet it lacked temples and
altars and the symbolic pageantry of the later centuries, when
the spoken word was alone in itself adequate to reach the
intellect and to melt the heart. To the preacher it must
have meant a setting free from the traditions and embarrass-
ments of a former regime, as if like St. Paul he was at
liberty to build for himself and not upon other men's founda-
tions. This sense of rejoicing in a larger freedom runs
through these years, giving them a character of their own ;
there was a joy and happiness in the preacher which was
diffused throughout the congregation. But it should be
mentioned as a touching instance of his dependence upon
associations, or of his desire to maintain the continuousness
of his life, that he sent a request, which at once was granted,
to the Church of the Holy Trinity for the lecturn or
preaching desk at which he had stood when delivering his
Wednesday evening lectures.
The main event, of course, during these years was the
building of the new Trinity Church in Copley Square. Be-
fore, however, we turn to describe it, we may dwell for a
moment upon some features in the preaching of Phillips
Brooks which are as interesting as they are important. He
had not written many sermons since he came to Boston, for
he had been occupied and somewhat distracted by the great
jet. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 103
transition in his life. lie had fallen back upon his old
Philadelphia sermons, using as many of them as he was still
willing to preach, taking, as it were, his final leave of his
old self before launching out anew and letting down his nets
for a fresh draught. His sermon record book shows but
forty new sermons to have been written in the years from
1870 to 1873. There was here no idleness or waste of time.
It was the opportunity for large and varied reading,
a period of refilling and of quiet waiting, wherein convic-
tions took root and matured, till he should be ready for some
larger utterance. Another forward movement in his career
of triumph was slowly coming in the years of his ministry
in Huntington Hall. The signs of intellectual and spiritual
growth may be traced in the multiplication of the note-books.
He carried them in his pocket, and at any time might be
seen recording thoughts as they were flashing through his
mind. Some kind of note-book was his inseparable companion.
What Ins earlier method was of writing a sermon or of
preparation for writing we do not know. That the sermon
was often left till the end of the week, finished only in time
for its delivery, is apparent from allusions in his diaries.
When he first began to preach he wrote two sermons every
week. After he went to Holy Trinity he wrote but one,
to be preached in the morning ; while his gift for extempo-
raneous preaching was brought into exercise on Sunday after-
noons and in his Wednesday evening lectures. Many of the
plans for these earlier extemporaneous sermons remain, show-
ing that they had been carefully elaborated. It was one of
his peculiarities that he remembered his work and seemed to
hold it in account, so that often he turned back to these plans,
as if they held an equal place in his estimation with the writ-
ten sermons. He had another and a fortunate characteristic,
that his mind kindled quickly with his own thoughts, even
after many years had gone by, with the result that old ser-
mons were as fresh to him as those that were newly written.
There was always a curious interest among the clergy and
theological students who cultivated the art of preaching to
know the methods by which Mr. Brooks did his work. The
104 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
sense of form, the literary charm, the almost prodigal
abundance of thought and illustration, the spontaneity which
made a written sermon possess the full effect of an extempo-
raneous utterance inspired by the moment, this called for
explanation, if so be that he could communicate to others the
valued secret. Now that we know the entire process, the
secret appears a simple one. Preaching was the one exclusive
object that occupied his mind. The message to be delivered
and the form it should take in order to be most effective,
to that simple end he devoted himself. Prom morning
till night, in every hour of leisure or apparent relaxation, on
his journeys, in vacations, in social assemblies, he was think-
ing of subjects for sermons, turning over new aspects of
old truths, thrilled inwardly with the possibility of giving
better form than had yet been given to old, familiar doctrine.
In a word, he concentrated his thought upon one thing, it
was preaching ; that was what he lived for, and for that cause
he mi:ht almost be said to have come into the world. Be-
neath the nonchalant, trifling manner which seemed at times
to refuse to take anything seriously, the humor that played
about solemn and sacred themes, the deep undertone of his
spirit was sounding without cessation or interruption.
The first shape which the sermon took was the brief hint
in the note-book. It was an apparent necessity to put it into
writing, or it would not have been that every sermon may
thus be traced in its genesis, even every casual speech on
slight occasions. One might have thought that after so many
years of preparation it would have been possible for him to
make a few minutes' talk after dinner, or to boys in school
or college, without first writing down the idea on which he
was to touch, and then expanding it into a complete plan.
In the reminiscences by Dr. Weir Mitchell 1 an account of
one of these extemporaneous addresses is given, as it seemed
to have been born at the moment, without premeditation.
But in truth it had long been in his mind what he should
say, and the analysis had been written out. He never trusted
to the moment to bring him inspiration. To give other
1 Cf . ante, vol. i. p. 634.
jet, 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 105
illustrations, he often went to Cambridge to address the stu-
dents of the St. Paul's Society at Harvard, but in every
case the analysis of his remarks may be fouud in his note-
books or on detached sheets of paper. On some occasions
he availed himself of ideas which he was working up in
other connections, but it still remained true that he took
thought beforehand and never allowed himself to feel it
would be given to him, when called upon, what he should
speak. That was a privilege of the apostolic age, and it had
not been reserved for him.
It is not known that he ever found himself in a position
where he was forced to speak when he had made uo special
preparation, although there were occasions having a resem-
blance to emergencies when he was saved by what seems
like mysterious interposition, or the working of some reserve
force within him. Such an incident is described by the Rev.
Percy Browne, to whom Mr. Brooks communicated it :
In one of the later years when Christmas fell in the middle of
the week, Mr. Brooks had prepared two sermons, one for
Christmas Day, and the other for the morning of the Sunday after
Christmas. He preached the first sermon as it was intended. On
the Sunday morning after Christmas he went up into the pulpit,
and as the choir were singing the last stanza of the hymn he
looked down at the sermon before him, when to his horror he dis-
covered that he had made a mistake and had brought with him to
church the sermon preached some two or three days before. He
then reminded himself that he had prepared another sermon to
be preached extemporaneously in the afternoon, but both the
text and the plan had vanished from his memory. In his despair
he hastened down from the pulpit and went to the lecturn where
he began in almost reckless fashion to turn over the leaves of the
Bible in the hope that the lost text might recur to him. And
then suddenly, at the critical moment when the large congregation
were waiting for him to begin, the text flashed upon his mind,
with a vivid picture of the plan of the sermon. Some one in the
congregation, who was asked if he noticed anything peculiar, said
he only remarked that Mr. Brooks seemed to have changed his
mind after reaching the pulpit, and concluded that he would prefer
to preach from the lecturn. The reason for the change he did
not know, but he recalled that sermon as one of the most powerful
and impressive he had ever heard.
106 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
A few specimens are here given from his pocket note-
books in order to show the ideas germinating in his mind
which were afterwards to be developed into sermons ; they
also serve to illustrate the character of his preaching and
the tone of thought at the moment when they were written.
One year is as good as another for this purpose, and we
fix upon 1874, when he was preaching in Huntington
Hall:
What do we mean by hope and cheerfulness about the future ?
We know that despair and weariness all come, we don't ignore
them. But from the distance we see the greater power envelop-
ing all and working and making peace.
The difference of the sense of mystery in life in different per-
sons. About alike in those who think nothing about it and in
those who have a settled scheme.
There are days which seem to be made up of spring and autumn,
which have the hope of one and the despair of the other. Our
time is like such a day.
The relation of the Church to social life, throughout its his-
tory. The Church and the religion are not always the same, but
(and it is a weighty truth) the Church cannot long lag behind
the religion. Christianity the religion at once of individuality
and society, and so of social life which must have both of these
in it.
The way the Bible strikes at the average respectability, as in
the Elder Brother and Pharisees, yet never would overturn. No
socialism; always full of virtue and order, always bringing up
the better from below, always making growth the changing force,
always developing. That the whole secret of reform. Other
systems purely destructive ; have tried to appropriate Christianity,
but have failed.
When an end has been made of the people's old religion, of
their faith, and of the God-made man of the Gospel, do you know
what was substituted ? The faith in the God-made man of social-
ism. For what is socialism at bottom? It is man believing
himself God, in the sense that he believes himself capable of
destroying evil and suffering. (Life of Montalembert, vol. ii.
p. 112.)
For thus saith the Lord unto the house of Israel, Seek ye me,
jet. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 107
and ye shall live. Amos v. 4. One must be in harmony with the
principles of life in order to live; for example, the forces of
nature, the laws of the lan<l, the men about us, of all good things.
This must be what is meant by seeking God ; not His favor, but
His nature. This is what is meant by Christ reconciling us to
God. The full life of Jesus. . . . There is a rich vitality in
the man who has sought God.
We have not so much as heard whether tJiere he any Holy
Ghost. Acts xix. 2. What is perfectly real to us so often
entirely strange to other men. What we cannot live without
they never miss. . . . But in every such case the soul is all the
time getting help unconsciously; the Spirit not confined to those
times and places where He consciously is. . . . What they lose
by their unconsciousness.
And there tvas great joy in that city. Acts viii. 8. Religion
primarily personal, secondarily social. Evil of reversing this. But
after the personal, the social to be considered. What would a
city be with Christianity accepted universally? 1. Belief. 2.
Behavior. 3. Charity. City joy is made up, independently of
personal happiness, of social life, business prosperity, and public
spirit. The love of company. A revival in a city. The beauty
and healthiness of it. . . . The qualities wanted in civic life are
just the Christian qualities.
Silver and gold have I none, but such as I have give I thee.
Acts iii. 3. There is something better for us to have than
money. So there must be something better to give. The greatest
benefactors have not given money. Christ. So of those who have
helped you most. Not make anything I say an excuse for not
giving money. What we can give, Ideas, Inspiration, Com-
fort, and above all access to God for what He can give alone,
Forgiveness and Grace. ... A man must really possess himself
before he can really give himself to another.
Elias was a man subject to like passions as we are. James v.
17. General tendency to think the great men so much greater
than we are. What is and what is not common to men (Declara-
tion of Independence). Settle it that privilege must belong with
character, and then there can be no arbitrary inequality. "And
I will not be judged by any that never felt the like, " said Richard
Baxter on his wife's death.
The first fruits of them that slept. 1 Cor. xv. 20. . . .
Christ made death seem and be a sleep. He established, that is,
108 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
that sleep was its true figure. This includes these ideas, (1)
Its naturalness. To sleep and to awaken again is altogether
natural. The sonnet of Blanco White. The relation of this
revelation to the wishes and hopes of the race. (2) The refreshing,
renewing power. Sleep brings back the energy of the last morn-
ing, only with the added wisdom and experience of the past day.
So of the resurrection life of Christ. The restoral of the first life,
only with the complete and redemptive work added, all the fatigue
and pain over. So your resurrection life. Restored to the Image
of God, only with the experience of life put in.
And ivhen he was come into Jerusalem, all the city was moved,
saying, Who is this ? Matt. xxi. 10. A great city in excitement
always a thrilling and touching thing. For there life is at its
fullest. ... 1. The impressibility of men. 2. The ignorance:
hooting boys, nay, even men, who don't know what it is all about.
3. The vast uncultured power that is there; what they might do.
*T is very like a beast. *T is insignificant in detail, but mighty
in combination.
Country good after town, as night after day, as sleep after
work, but that is all.
The moved city is the emphasis of ideas by humanity, adding
nothing to their inherent reasonableness, but very much to their
convincing force.
Who is this ? a wonder worker, a truth teacher, a soul changer ?
There must be a Theology, a Christology. Refuge in mere
moralism will not do. It is too shallow. If there be a Christ
we must know Him, think something of Him.
Christ's view of human nature. A general view necessary.
Views lightly formed. Views of easy humanitarians; present
views of universal corruption. Constant variation from wretched
misanthropy to wretched optimism. The necessity of some gen-
eral conception. How it will influence single judgments. Two
sources consciousness and experience.
Christ's view in parable of Prodigal Son, Woman of Samaria,
and Simon Peter ; in the Temptation, Transfiguration, Crucifixion.
Practical results of this view, deep indignation with sin,
sober hope and work, enthusiasm for man without folly.
The Gadarenes beseeching Jesus to depart from their coast.
Matt. viii. 34. The shrinking from any great experience.
This one reason why with all their complaint of the world and
themselves men do not strive for improvement.
The magnitude of Christianity appalls men. How they get rid
jet. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 109
of it: by formalism; by indifference; by breaking down the
truth.
The way in which Jesus lifts us to our work. He will not go ;
is better than our prayers.
That awful prayer ! . . . Depart from us, O Christ ! half un-
consciously ; by business absorption.
Imagine the whole world eager for its highest. How it would
take Christ.
One element of our shrinking from death, the natural fear of
the unknown.
But Christ goes into it with us, surrounding and tempting us
with His love. The fear of great emotion is lost as He is with
us. He is with us in a lower and so leads us to a higher state. . . .
Start with the truth that Christianity is Christ.
And the Lord said unto Satan, Behold, all that he hath is in
thy power ; only upon himself put not forth thine hand. Job i. 12.
The limited power of evil, the self that it cannot touch. Apply
to Christian trials, to disturbed faith, to bereavements, to loss of
property.
The need of a central definite self. The need of valuing it
above all things.
The power of trouble to disentangle the self. Compare the lim-
its of Satan's power over Jesus. Christ the assertor of a man's
self. . . .
To know the depths to which each sort of suffering and tempta-
tion may go, how deep loss of money, loss of health, loss of friends,
loss of reputation. . . . God's willingness to let everything else
go, to save the man's own self. That explains so much.
The Religious Fear. Nervousness, or with some the Religious
scare of the present moment. The need of religion being driven
(1) to more reality, (2) to more applicability, (3) to more depth.
Are not the present tendencies doing it?
What to do ! Not modify religion to every demand ; the great
liberty now to seek the absolute truth and match our ideas to it.
Threefold danger, cultivated skepticism, low life, Romanism.
Faith in God. Show what it means. Not that He will support
our dogma, but that He will bring His truth, and if our dogma
and Church is not that, we do not wish it. So I always stand
before you.
Who against Hope believed in Hope. Rom. iv. 18. Spoken
of Abraham the father of us all.
The lower hope and the higher. Hope in the probabilities of
no PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
nature ; and hope in the promises of God. The two levels o life.
So our hope of comfort, of renewal.
These two regions everywhere, the natural and the transcen-
dental.
Apply to standards of life; what we may expect of man.
Apply to evidences of God and Jesus and eternity.
Modern unbelief from admitting only lower evidences. Higher
evidence is by consciousness and revelation.
Giving none offence in any thing, that the ministry be not
blamed. 2 Cor. vi. 3. What the classes are, Dogmatic big-
ots ; the utterly indifferent ; earnest believers. . . .
What ought to be our feeling towards each?
1. Toward the bigot. Describe the evils of bigotry, always
on the verge of Phariseeism. The great variety of it, may be
Roman or Puritan. How can I feel about it? One man says,
" Trample it under foot ; " another man says, " Accept it for its
spirit, no matter about its ideas." Neither is good. Get hold
of its good and develop that. Look on the bigot as mistaken in
the search for truth.
2. Look on the indifferent as capable of truth. . . . This
illustrated by Paul's treatment of Athenians, the very pattern
of our treatment of the indifferent by our side. The universal
God is the basis of everything.
3. The need of having settled principles on which to regulate our
life with one another. What are the principles which Christian-
ity brings to bear: 1. God's love for all and guidance of all. 2.
The common teachableness. 3. The resurrection and eternal life.
4. The personal conscience. 5. The worth of the soul above the
body. All these made manifest by the Incarnation.
Some time a strong sermon on the Incarnation.
You cannot carry Christianity everywhere, but you can carry
Christ.
The character of the arguments to which men's minds are open
one of the best indications of their calibre.
Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will
give you rest. Matt. xi. 28. Rest only in Character. Talk
about the restlessness of America which is connected with the
lack of national character. The causes of that lack in absence
of traditions and in the access of foreigners.
Rest has true self-respect, the ideal before it.
The miserable seeking for equilibrium in circumstances.
Restlessness is discontent which has no ideal before it. Dis-
content which has an ideal is progress.
*t. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK in
Trouble not the Master. Two cases where the disciples inter-
fered, to prevent Christ heing disturbed: Bartimaeus and the
Children. Their anticipation of the tendency of Churchmen to
shut up Christ to certain activities, and to lose his spontane-
ousness and freeness. The causes of such a tendency. Analyze
into a care for Him and a lurking, half-unconscious fear of ex-
haustion ; for example, Salvability of the heathen ; Forgiveness of
very great sins; Salvation of error ists; Few that he saved.
(1872.)
Sermon on Forgiveness, as the purpose of the Gospel. . . .
The prerequisites of forgiveness are repentance and faith, . . .
not remorse and belief. A reconciled God, the grandeur of that
idea. . . . Has it not been done by Christ in the world and in the
heart ? If men come into the councils of God and dwell there as
they could not of old, has not He done it ? And by the death of
Christ, is not that true also ? Sin has been made hideous, obedience
lovely, love evident. Then how evident that not by any mere
outward works the forgiveness is obtained. (1872.)
Come and see. The proper appeal that may be made to a
skeptic, to come and test Christianity: 1. The truth of the
Bible. 2. The phenomenon of Christ. 3. The Christian His-
tory. 4. The religious experience by putting himself into the
power of what he did hold.
But icill God indeed dwell on the earth ? Atheism, Panthe-
ism, Deism, Incarnation. Then the spiritual conception of an
indwelling God, a God who is in, not is, the human soul.
Say the Lord hath need of him. God's need of men; the
solution of Calvinism. The opposite statements of Spiritual
things which may both be true.
Humility. To be gained both by sense of our own weakness
and by the bigness of others. . . . Humility and self-respect
entirely consistent.
That they shotdd seek after God, if haply they might feel after
and find Him, though He is not far from every one of us. God
nearer than we think. We are blind to what is nearest to us
always. Christ the exhibition of a nearness of God which is
already a fact. The difference if we understood it all. God the
atmosphere of life.
Some said that it thundered; others that an angel spake unto
Him. The profound and superficial explanations of things.
ii2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
Everything is capable of both. . . . Common occurrences of life,
discernment or non-discernment of spiritual causes. Religious
experiences ; nervous or spiritual ? Existence or non-existence of
angels ? Which is the more logical or true to fact ?
The relation of Christ to modern social life. The disposition
in earliest times to divide Christian Society from Pagan. The
necessity of it then, the undesirableness of it now. Does this
make the task of Christianity easier or harder? Does it not
make it much harder, requiring watchfulness more ?
Whether they will bear or forbear. The absoluteness of duty
as distinct from its relativeness. The whole subject of con-
sidering consequences and results.
Ah, Lord God, they say of me, doth he not speak parables ?
Sermon to people who think themselves not understood. Of course
they are not, in one sense nobody is. . . . God understands you.
Is that really a help ? The power of the Incarnation here, Christ's
life misunderstood. Perhaps you are not so misunderstood.
Others know us in some ways better than ourselves. The ten-
dency of our time to self -consciousness. Our houses full of it.
Specify various special instances. . . . The misunderstood reli-
gions. The would-be Benefactor, Teacher, Idealist, Leader.
Men's hearts failing them for fear. Descriptive of our time.
The tendency of such times.
Even so come, Lord Jesus. On the willingness to meet and
welcome great experiences.
The beauty and strength of reserve. The fact of God's reserve
and then some of the laws of it. The fact, in science, in reli-
gious truth, in personal treatment, in prophecy; the limits of
revelation; the Incarnation a hiding as well as an exhibition.
The laws of reserve; reserve is for stimulus, not for vexation.
Reserve is of what is curious, not what is useful. The neces-
sity of reserve ; Jewish and Christian ways of looking at ; essential
and arbitrary. Man's feeling to a reserved God and a garrulous
God.
Is devotion in proportion to advance in civilization ? Is then
religion to be tested by our civilization? Answer, No! but by
its ability to carry on its own work. It has made civilization
and carried it so far.
The relation of Christianity and society all along. It has
worked so differently; has made the monastery and made the
home.
^t. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 113
Chivalry, the desire to be with the weak ; a repugnance from
strong causes ; strong in many natures instinctively, for example,
Montalembert.
From the ideas as they first took shape in his mind we
turn to the process by which the finished product was reached.
He ceased repeating, as he had done, the Philadelphia ser-
mons. His mind was teeming with thoughts which came
faster than he could utilize them. The trouble, he said, was
not to find subjects to preach about, there was no danger
of failure of topics, but of inability to exhaust the topics.
For many years he now wrote regularly one sermon each
week. Also he devoted the week to this one sermon, for he
could still command his time, at least the best part of every
morning. Before Monday came he had the text in his mind
on which he was to write. If he had failed to secure his
text or subject before the week began, he knew there was
danger of failing to produce a sermon. It was his custom
on Monday morning to have his friends about him, for that
was his day of rest. But as they sat in his study and the
light humorous conversation ran on, in which he delighted,
his mind never lost sight of the idea which inspired him.
On the mornings of Monday and Tuesday he was bringing
together in his note-book or on scraps of paper the thoughts
which were cognate to his leading thought or necessary for
its illustration and expansion, collecting, as he called it, the
material for the sermon. Wednesday morning he devoted
entire to writing out the plan which he would follow. In
these plans there was something unusual, even remarkable.
Hundreds of them remain, for from the time he adopted this
method he continued to follow it scrupulously down to the
last sermon he wrote. To these plans he must have attached
importance, preserving them with care, and often making use
of them in various ways. They deserve therefore some
description.
What is noticeable, then, in the first place is the unvarying
uniformity of their size and appearance, as though the
working of his mind were somewhat dependent on the out-
ward form of the paper on which he wrote. They are written
VOL. 11
ii 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
in a handwriting so small that they resemble nothing so much
as some specimens of ancient Puritan sermons, where it was
a matter of economy of paper, and a sermon was condensed
into the smallest possible space. There is a suggestion here
of some inherited touch from his clerical ancestors, in remote
generations, which may have been unconsciously impelling
him. He took a half sheet of sermon paper, folding it once,
thus making four small pages, some seven inches by less
than five in their dimensions, which he was to fill. It is also
worthy of remark that he invariably filled them out to the last
remaining space on the last page, as though only in this way
he could be sure that he had sufficient material for his
sermon. So condensed is the handwriting that each one of
these plans will average about one thousand words, in itself
a short sermon. Each plan contained when it was finished
a dozen or more detached paragraphs. His next task and
this is the most curious feature of all was to go over the
paragraphs, each of which contained a distinct idea, and was
to become, when expanded, a paragraph in the finished
sermon, placing over against each the number of pages it
would occupy when it had been amplified. Then he added
the numbers together. Thirty pages was the limit of the
written sermon. If these numbers of assigned pages fell
short of thirty he reviewed his plan to see where he might
best expand, or where to reduce if he had too many. It was
extraordinary that one who gave the impression of such utter
spontaneity, whose sermons seemed to come by a flash of
inspiration, costing no effort, should have thus limited him-
self in fixed and apparently mechanical ways.
The hardest part of his work was accomplished when he
had completed his plan. Thursday and Friday mornings were
devoted to writing the sermon ; and as each sermon contained
some five thousand words a considerable amount of labor was
still required. But he wrote with rapidity and ease, rarely
making a correction, and in a large, legible, and graceful
handwriting, which looks like a study in penmanship. Evi-
dently it was a pleasure to him to write a sermon under these
conditions. He came to each paragraph as to a work of art,
SKELETON OF A SERMON
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.
iET. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 115
knowing just the limits it should have, with no anxiety about
proportions, no fear lest his material should fail him.
I have been reading these plans carefully [writes a friend of
Mr. Brooks to whom they have been submitted], comparing them
bit by bit with the printed sermons, and was interested to find how
closely he kept to his plan as a whole, both the order of the passages
and the number of pages allotted to each. How the dry bones
live ! The earlier synopses seemed to me less finished than the ones
written only later by a few years. For instance the "Curse of
Meroz " in 1877 has an occasional outburst apparently for himself
alone, "It makes one mad;" "the muddy humility of Uriah
Heep." Indeed, I noticed a number of personal applications
which do not appear in the sermons themselves. In the "Great-
ness of Faith " opposite the words "blatant infidel " is written
"Ingersoll." I have also found passages marked for three pages
reduced to half a page, the example of a man building a house
changed to one facing a great grief, and in " Christian Charity "
whole passages and even ideas left entirely out. He must have
feared his own facility and the glowing images that came crowding
into his mind to tie himself down so, almost as a poet would, into
sonnet form. 1
What has been said of his method of preparing a writ-
ten sermon applies equally to his 'extemporaneous sermons.
Always there was the plan elaborated and written out and
afterwards filed for future reference. There are many hun-
dreds of these plans, but this difference is to be noted,
that in making them he used a full sheet of sermon paper,
with the handwriting large and bold, clearly with the pur-
pose in view of taking them into the pulpit. He could not
thus have utilized the plans of the written sermon, for the
handwriting was so small as to have required a magnifying
glass to read it. In this way he cultivated himself in the
art of extempore preaching. The practice which he had in
1 How early Mr. Brooks adopted thife method of making plans for his ser-
mons is uncertain. Cf. Remembrances of Phillips Brooks, where the Rev.
George A. Strong writes : " A stay of a week with him in Philadelphia once,
while he was still in charge of ' Holy Trinity,' showed me how he wrote his ser-
mons. 'Take a hook and pipe,' he said one morning, 'and let me map out
work for to-morrow.' The pen ran on as if the note-paper ' plan ' were an
offhand letter, and after an hour or so of absolute stillness the close-written
sheet went into the desk."
n6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
amplifying his ideas in the written sermon helped him when
preaching without notes, for he rarely took them into the
pulpit, to keep within limits, and to build up a sermon with
as much skill and success as when he wrote it out word for
word in his study. But all this preparation served a greater
end, to give him freedom in the pulpit. Often when he was
most powerful he had departed from the manuscript before
him, or ceased to follow the plan laid out. He was never
more effective than when he delivered some written sermon
extemporaneously. In such cases he did not use the manu-
script for preparation, but went to the plan on which it had
been written, coming again under the influence of the original
idea which had first inspired him, and then giving to it such
fresh treatment as made it seem as if he were delivering
a new sermon.
It is another characteristic of Phillips Brooks as a preacher
that he made no effort to follow the rule enjoined in rhetorical
treatises calling for a culmination at the end of the discourse,
for which the most effective points or arguments should be
reserved. On the contrary he often, perhaps generally, came
to his climax as he began. He followed the artist's method,
rather than the rhetorician's, throwing his leading idea upon
the canvas in bold outline, and then holding his audience
with a gaze, growing deeper in its intensity as with an artist's
power he filled up the outline and made a living, speaking
portrait. What he was doing in every sermon was to repro-
duce the personal process through which he himself had
passed from the moment when he grasped a truth till he
had traced out in his own experience its relation to life
and to all other truth. He first opened his soul to the
influence of the truth which was to constitute his message,
devising the most forcible method in order to make it appeal
to his own heart, and then under the influence of this con-
viction he wrote his sermon. He studied its effect upon him-
self before studying how to reach a congregation. This
process kept him natural, sincere, and unaffected, preserving
his personality in all that he said, and free from the dangers
of conventionalism or artificiality. No one ever charged him
an-. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 117
with employing the artifices of rhetoric to accomplish his end,
nor did his hearers harden themselves against his teaching
under the suspicion that he moved them by sensational
methods. Although the rules of rhetoric require that the
strongest argument should be placed last if an audience is to
be stirred by the orator to accept the truth which he advo-
cates, yet in real life the strongest argument comes first, and
is confirmed by the lesser reasons which may be alleged.
This was Phillips Brooks's method. There was a letting
down of the audience as he closed from the exaltation with
which he began to the sober application of his truth in the
realities of life.
During these years, while Trinity Church was worshipping
in Huntington Hall, Phillips Brooks, as has been said,
gave himself up almost exclusively to the work of preaching.
There is the record of only two important addresses which he
gave, both of them significant not only for their inherent
value, but as illustrations of his methods of work, and for the
latter reason they may here be mentioned. He went to
Worcester in December, 1874, to deliver an address before
the Massachusetts Teachers' Association. His subject was
" Milton as an Educator," and it was treated with apparent
learning, with the marks of familiarity with his theme, as well
as with its remoter scientific bearings. But why, one is
tempted to ask, should an association of teachers, knowing so
well the needs of their profession, call upon one who was
not a professed educator for this service ? And how should
the busy parish minister find time for the investigation of
his subject, so that he could speak the word which would
give to teachers the stimulus and encouragement for which
they craved ? Or did Mr. Brooks have the art of cramming
in a short time so as to give the appearance of erudition, and
for the rest dress up the old platitudes under some temporary
mood of enthusiasm? The truth is that six months before,
while he was abroad for his summer's vacation, he was
making his preparation. For years he had been studying the
life and times of Milton. He took with him as he went away
the important books on the subject of education by Milton,
i 1 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
Locke, Bacon, and Herbert Spencer. He studied Quick's
" Essays on Educational Reformers," then went for himself to
the writings of Quintilian, Montaigne, Comenius, Pestalozzi,
and Basedow. When we add to this special preparation his
interest in the subject of teaching, his efforts for many years
to detect the methods of success, his experience in visiting
schools, his gifts of insight and of observation, his philosophi-
cal capacity for tracing relationships of thought, unobvious to
many, we have the evidence that he was not seeking to pose
as a scholar outside of his own department, but was doing
conscientious and faithful work.
Another address was delivered at the anniversary of the
Massachusetts State Normal School, in July, 1875, when his
subject was " Courage." 1 The preparation for it was made
a long time in advance, and among the writings of Phillips
Brooks it occupies a most important place. We are haunted
as we read with the conviction that we have before us a chap-
ter from his experience, had he chosen to give it a personal
form. He tells us his method of reading :
The habit of review reading is hostile to literary courage. To
read merely what some one has said about a book is probably
as unstimulating, as unfertilizing a process as the human mind
can submit to. . . . Read books themselves. To read a book is
to make a friend ; if it is worth your reading you meet a man ;
you go away full of his spirit ; if there is anything in you, he will
quicken it. . . . To make young people know the souls of books
and find their own souls in knowing them, that is the only way to
cultivate their literary courage.
But it is the subject itself which is most suggestive. If we
might fix upon one word to describe the character of Phillips
Brooks, it would be courage. It was written in his appear-
ance and manner, showing itself in his sermons and his conver-
sation, the one quality in him which could not be suppressed
or disguised. It had been manifested in Philadelphia when
he espoused causes which were unpopular. Had he chosen
to become a professional reformer, however obnoxious his
1 Cf. Essays and Addresses for both these papers, " Milton as an Educator,"
p. 300, and " Courage," p. 319.
mt. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 119
cause or strenuous the opposition to it, he would not have
flinched from its advocacy. Those who heard him preach
were inspired by his courage, as an army by the command of
a fearless leader. And this quality was a positive one, which
had been developed in spite of timidity and shyness and self-
consciousness. He would not have failed a second time in
the Boston Latin School. The difficulty he surmounted in
overcoming his natural reserve contributed to the development
of courage. In the earlier years a certain air of noncha-
lance has been noticed, as marking his manner while preach-
ing, the mask it may have been of his still too sensitive
spirit. But in later years, those who have watched him on
occasions when he was to address a congregation, waiting for
his word to lift up their hearts, have noticed how his face
grew pale and his whole countenance straitened with a look
of agony in the moment before he turned to mount the pul-
pit. To preach was an act requiring courage, because he
must needs, in order to be successful, unfold his inner self,
and speak of the intimate phases of the soul's life in God,
when no pressure could have extracted these things from
him in ordinary circumstances. When, therefore, he speaks
to us of courage, and gives us the definition of courage, he
is imparting the secret of his own experience : " Courage is
the power of being mastered by and possessed with an idea.
How rare it is ! I do not say how few men are so mastered
and possessed ; I say how few men have the power so to be."
The Sundays at Huntington Hall succeeded each other
with their unvarying testimony to the preacher's power. No
courses of lectures on literature, art, or science with which
the hall was associated ever witnessed a greater audience. It
would not have been so surprising if on anniversary occasions
the crowd had gone forth to meet him ; but this was the case
Sunday after Sunday, like the sun each day as it rises in its
strength, till people became accustomed to it as to the gifts of
God, and hardly wondered at the munificence of the feast. Here
is a description of one of these Sundays, which will answer for
them all ; it is taken from a Boston religious paper, " Zion's
Herald," in 1874:
120 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
Religious papers in the Middle and Southern States speak of
Boston as if given over to religious doubts, to the gospel of
modern science, and to heterodoxy generally. If their editors
could see the crowd, and know the character of it, that waits upon
the ministry of Phillips Brooks, their views might be somewhat
modified. Last Sabbath morning the immense hall was far from
being equal to the demands of the audience that crowded it.
Many stood throughout the whole service, and many went away not
finding even a place for the sole of the foot. Here ex-governors
and senators, judges and college professors, intermingled with the
humblest populace of the city. The services were most devoutly
rendered. The sermon was a fervid, simple utterance of the gospel
of the Lord Jesus, in the love and personal enjoyment of it. A
few words of address to young men and boys, at the close, in
reference to the great privilege of preaching the gospel were very
impressive. A tender silence was the appropriate response from
the beginning to the end of the excellent and eminently spiritual
discourse. The service in the interest of " Free Religion " in
Boston never draws such an audience as this. "And if I be
lifted up will draw all men unto me."
Another writer has described the preacher at this time in
terms felicitous and true :
We sometimes read of Schleiermacher and Whitefield and
Robertson and McCheyne and Chalmers and Mason, and think it
must have been good to live in the times when men preached with
their fire and their mighty hold on the heart ; but lo ! we have
the same phenomena in Boston to-day, a man in some respects
even more than the equal of some I have named.
He seizes a great and living theme ; he throws it out with a
sentence into shape; he then follows it in all its relations to life,
never entering into quibbles, nor minute matters which pertain to
some but not to all, and shows the bearing of the great central
truth on the daily needs of men. He never overflows with nor
lacks illustration, but uses it as the conditions of his subject
require, keeping it as illustrative and not as metaphorical show.
He hetrays a thorough acquaintance with the thought of our
time, passing into no antiquated domain, but meeting an audience
fresh from the magazine and newspaper with a style which is
natural and earnest and in sympathy with what is best in our
day. His breadth of thought is, perhaps, that which strikes and
draws one most, and in this not even Beecher is his master.
Philosophic candor, and a large grasp, this separates him world
wide from the common pulpit; and those who find themselves
I
at. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 111
always on the guard about the statements of others give Phillips
Brooks a ready ear. But with all this, there is in his preaching
what one must call the everlasting Gospel ; that faithfulness to
the conscience, that tender pleading, that dignity of condescen-
sion, and yet that brotherliness and sympathy, that fidelity to
dogmas, yet that absence of dogmatic expression, that lack of the
sensational, ludicrous, and egotistic, and that spiritual quickening,
which men sum up in one brief phrase when they say, "That
is what I call preaching." For myself, I should deem no vaca-
tion complete without hearing Phillips Brooks. After hearing
Candish, Dyce, Hamilton, Jones, Binney, Spurgeon, Pressens^,
Monoa, Kruimnacher, and Tholuck, not to mention other dis-
tinguished divines of Europe, there is no one who so exactly
suits me as Phillips Brooks. There is a warmth and life and
inspiration and truth from his lips that I have not found else-
where. And from what I hear mine is not an isolated case. 1
The late Dr. Tulloch, Principal of St. Mary's College, in
the University of Aberdeen, was visiting Boston in the spring
of 1874. This was his tribute to Phillips Brooks, in a letter
to his wife :
April 26, 1874.
I have just heard the most remarkable sermon I ever heard in
my life (I use the word in no American sense) from Mr. Phillips
Brooks, an Episcopal clergyman here : equal to the best of Fred-
erick Robertson's sermons, with a vigor and force of thought
which he has not always. I never heard preaching like it, and
you know how slow I am to praise preachers. So much thought
and so much life combined; such a reach of mind, and such a
depth and insight of soul. I was electrified. I could have got
up and shouted.
And again in a letter to a friend the comment is repeated,
and the comparison with Robertson made more explicit :
I cannot tell you how much I have enjoyed myself here, how
kind everybody has been, and with what flattering kindness they
have received me, Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, Dana, and a
man in some respects as remarkable as any of them, Phillips
Brooks, the great preacher here now. I never heard anything
equal to his sermon to-day, and you know I don't readily praise
sermons. It had all the originality and life and thought of
1 Rev. W. L. Gage, in the Congregationalist, 1874.
122 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
Robertson of Brighton, with less tenderness and delicacy of in-
sight, but more robustness and incision. 1
That a man like Principal Tulloch could bear this testi-
mony to a sermon by Phillips Brooks shows that something
had happened in the history of preaching and in the history
of religious thought. There was certainly no living critic
who surpassed him, very few if any who could be said to
equal him, in those qualities which go to making up the capa-
city for final arbitration. He was distinguished as a preacher,
Chaplain in Ordinary to the Queen, Moderator of the Gen-
eral Assembly of the Church of Scotland, a man Of rigid
standards and exacting in his judgments, acquainted with
the preachers of his time, whose profession called him to
study the history of preaching and the history of theology.
Those who have read his " Leaders of the Reformation," his
" English Puritanism and its Leaders," or his important work
on " The Rational Theologians of the Church of England
in the Seventeenth Century," will know that Phillips Brooks
was preaching in the presence of one whose judgment was of
value. The man who could move Principal Tulloch to such
an outburst had gained some vantage ground in the struggle
of the Christian church to overcome the world, which it is
essential that we should discover. When we turn with an
interest to the sermon, it is to find that it was no excep-
tional utterance compared with a hundred others that might
be mentioned. And yet it contained in a marked degree
that quality which now made all the sermons great. This
was the text : Jesus said unto him, Dost thou believe on
the Son of God ? He answered and said, Who is he, Lord,
that I might believe on him f And Jesus said unto him,
Thou hast both seen him, and it is he that talheth with
thee? The climax of the sermon was delayed till the mean-
ing of the last answer of Jesus had been unfolded. As the
successive points in the conversation were opened up to the
hearer in the wealth of their direct and unsuspected spiritual
import, the interest grew deeper, for the portrait of Christ
1 Mrs. Oliphant's Life of Principal Tulloch, pp. 292, 303.
2 Cf. Sermons, " The Opening of the Eyes," vol. v. p. 194.
jet. 37-41] METHODS OF WORK 123
was growing clearer and the nature of every man. Christ is
drawn as the most real, most present power in the Christian
world. Men see Him, talk with Him continually, but they
do not know what lofty converse they are holding. The sub-
tlety of the spiritual imagination that enabled the preacher
to enter into the mind of Christ had the effect of reproducing
the scene, as though Christ were standing in bodily presence
before the congregation. "What had taken place those cen-
turies ago was repeating itself in the consciousness of many
on that Sunday afternoon.
CHAPTER V
1873-1877
THE BUILDING OF THE NEW TRINITY CHURCH. THE MOTIVES
IN ITS CONSTRUCTION. THE CONSECRATION SERVICES
The story of the building of Trinity Church reads like
a romance from its first inception, through the difficulties
surmounted, till it culminated in the service of consecration.
In the accomplishment of the work, the building committee,
the architect, the rector, labored together in a spirit of
harmony, with an aim which cannot be better expressed
than in the words of the report of the building committee :
" the conviction that our duty to the parish, to posterity, and
to God has been clear, to make the new church fully worthy
of the piety, the culture, and the wealth of our people." It
was fortunate for the architect and the rector that they had
such a building committee and such a parish to support
them, for as the original design of the church expanded, there
came the demand for increased expenditure until the com-
pleted work had cost more than double the amount originally
contemplated. From beginning to end a deep enthusiasm
pervaded the whole undertaking. It was impossible to bring
together two such personalities as Richardson and Phillips
Brooks without something great and unique as the product
of their joint discourse. Mr. Richardson was not a man
with ecclesiastical convictions, who endeavored to turn his
religious musings into architectural expression, but endowed
with a rich and generous nature, who appreciated the large-
hearted rector of Trinity and responded to his suggestions.
Mr. Brooks was not an architect, but he came near being one.
In his journeys through Europe he had made himself familiar
with historic churches in the countries he visited, and by his
jet. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 125
intelligent interest in the subject had prepared himself for
the tuition which Richardson could give. He had also
certain first principles of his own, which appear embodied in
Trinity Church.
From one point of view the credit for the accomplishment
of so large an undertaking belonged to the building committee,
whose culture, judgment, and zeal, as well as business capac-
ity, made the work possible, preventing misunderstandings
which would have marred the plan or limited its realization.
From another point the glory belongs to an architect who
stood foremost in his profession for originality and boldness
and power. But with Phillips Brooks originated the motives
which dominate the edifice. His ideas are written in the struc-
ture ; he supported and stimulated the genius of the architect,
turning it to his own purpose ; he possessed the confidence of
the building committee and of the members of the parish,
manifested by unstinted generosity in giving, in response to
increasing appeals. While the share which he took in the
work cannot be exactly measured, or the influence he exerted
be sharply discriminated from that of the architect or build-
ing committee, yet the story may be told from his point of
view. Trinity Church in his lifetime was popularly known
as Phillips Brooks's Church ; there is a sense in which it
may be regarded as his monument.
In the first place he appreciated the greatness of the
opportunity. The time was ripe to make an attempt in
ecclesiastical architecture which, while it respected and
followed whatever was true or desirable in traditional methods,
should yet be subservient to the expression of those higher
aspects of religion which it had been the glory of the Pro-
testant Reformation to unveil. Upon that point he was clear,
that the first condition was to break away from the so-called
Gothic style, to whose introduction into England and America,
following in the wake of the Oxford Movement, was owing
in a measure the attempted return to mediaeval religion
which had characterized the Anglican Church for the last
generation. That type of religion, with its priesthood and
confessional, and its undue emphasis on the sacrament of the
126 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
altar, had clothed itself in a style of architecture whose chief
requisite was to see, or to supplement sight by the ringing of
a bell, but where the hearing of the word of God by the ear
was not taken into consideration as affecting the structural
necessities of the building art. Faith cometh by hearing, and
hearing by the word of God was the conviction of Phillips
Brooks. Preaching might seem weak in comparison with
gorgeous rites calculated to impress the imagination, but God
had appointed the foolishness of preaching to save them that
believe. This was the principle kept in the foreground, as
controlling the details of the construction. Even the piers
of the central tower, where they are visible in the church,
were made smaller than the fitting proportions seemed to
demand, failing to represent the massive foundations on
which they rest, and even concealing in some measure their
structural purpose, in order that the symbolism of the church
as a place for the proclamation of the gospel might be more
effectually secured.
But preaching was not the only motive to be embodied in
a church aiming to represent the symmetry and fulness of the
Christian faith. For the " visible church of God is a con-
gregation of faithful men, where not only the pure word of
God is preached, but the sacraments be duly ministered
according to Christ's ordinance in all those things that of
necessity are requisite to the same." In order that the
dignity of the sacraments might not only be secured, but
their true significance made prominent, there was added to
the chancel end of the church, which was in the form of the
Latin cross, a large semicircular apse, to be devoted to the
one purpose of the administration of the Lord's Supper.
This was a departure from ecclesiastical traditions, marked
and even glaring, and gives to Trinity Church a distinctive
character. Its motive was to represent the idea of Christian
communion and fellowship as one great end which the Lord's
Supper was designed to promote. In the centre of the apse
stood the Lord's table, a table according to the original
institution of the feast, not an altar or a sideboard, but a
table, whose importance to the Christian imagination was not
jet. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 127
obscured or dwarfed by other ornament, not even by the chan-
cel windows. Whether it would be a success or not from
an aesthetic or architectural point of view, whether something
more impressive to the outward eye might have been devised
or not, was not the question. The spirit of ecclesiastical mys-
ticism, dreaming of an elaborate altar, with its imposing ac-
cessories, as in Latin churches, might be disappointed at the
residt in a building that promised and fulfilled so much to the
visual imagination. But if it were a failure in devising a form
of architectm*e where the central truths of Anglicanism, as
distinct from Romanism, should be bodied forth in unmistak-
able manner, yet it was an attempt at this end under circum-
stances most favorable and rare. If it were a failure, then the
inference would seem close at hand that Protestantism, which
has been powerful enough to build up the modern world, and
now carries the hopes and the possibilities of the world's future,
is driven, in seeking a fitting shrine for worship, to resort to
types of architecture that originated in and expressed the
spirit of an inferior age, to which the higher forms of Christ's
religion were unknown. But those who have witnessed the
feast of the Lord's Supper in Trinity Church, when the full
significance of the divine symbolism is apparent, must feel
that there has been no failure. The Protestant principle
controls the edifice, securing the prominence to the pure word
of God, and with it the due ministration of the monumental
rite of the Lord's Supper. The baptismal font, from this
point of view, is placed next the chancel, as it should be,
connecting closely the two sacraments, setting forth the truth
that an inward purification is the condition for participating
in the heavenly banquet.
There was still another motive in the mind of Mr. Brooks :
to combine with these features of a Protestant church what-
ever was of human and enduring significance in the earlier
methods of Christian architecture. It was no part of his
purpose to break with the spirit of the ages before the Refor-
mation. To his mind they were the " ages of faith," and to
them he made the appeal, when searching for the evidence
upon which the Christian religion must repose. Therefore,
128 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
he would take from the old order the ideas of solidity and
of imposing grandeur, of beauty, of adornment in form and
color, which should surpass, if possible, all other beauty, as
when the church seemed greater than the world, the spiritual
stronger and richer than the temporal, and in its costly deco-
ration symbolizing that wealth was most worthily employed
when it ministered to spiritual ends. Let the complex invo-
lutions of the result stand for the rich variety of religious
interests. Retain from the old, also, the sense of awe and
mystery, the deep mystery of human life, that combination
of effects in roof and windows, in which Milton, though a
Puritan, rejoiced, whose result was to dissolve the spirit in
religious ecstasy and bring heaven before the eye.
The main feature in the architecture of Trinity Church
both within and without is the central tower. In this respect,
as well as in the rejection of the pointed arch, the departure
from the so-called Gothic reproductions is apparent and strik-
ing. To quote the architect's words on this point :
In studying the problem presented by a building fronting on
three streets, it appeared equally desirable that the tower should
be central, thus belonging equally to each front, rather than put-
ting it on any corner, where, from at least one side, it would be
nearly out of sight; and in carrying out this motive, it was plain
that with the ordinary proportion of church and tower, either the
tower must be comparatively small, which would bring its sup-
porting piers inconveniently into the midst of the congregation, or
the tower being large, the rest of the church must be magnified to
inordinate proportions. For this dilemma the Auvergnat solu-
tion seemed perfectly adapted. Instead of the tower being an
inconvenient and unnecessary addition to the church, it was itself
made the main feature. The struggle for precedence, which
often takes place between a church and its spire, was disposed of,
by at once and completely subordinating nave, transepts, and apse,
and grouping them about the tower as the central mass.
In the discussions over the plan of the church by which
this result was finally determined, Mr. Brooks took an im-
portant part. Both architect and rector were agreed in
the matter of the tower as a central feature, rather than a
tower at one corner, as was at first intended. As to the
jet. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 129
" Auvergnat solution," Mr. Brooks spent the summer of
1874 travelling through the towns of middle France, where,
as at Auvergne and the Angoumois, there existed from the
twelfth century churches of the peculiar construction whence
Mr. Richardson drew, in some measure, his suggestion. He
was thus prepared to form an intelligent opinion. But apart
from this special preparation, he had an earlier predilection
for the tower, as has been already shown in his experience
at Philadelphia, where the Church of the Holy Trinity had
been completed in accordance with his desire. This pre-
ference for the tower was accompanied by another equally
strong for the rounded arch, or for what is called the
Romanesque style. These things may seem to be a matter
of indifference from a religious point of view, but he did not
so regard them. If it is admissible to suppose that religious,
or intellectual, or other motives consciously or unconsciously
inspire those who plan and build, then we may recall that the
Romanesque style was developed in the earlier Middle Ages
before the Latin Church had conquered the state, or begun
the movement for suppressing freedom of inquiry, before
the promulgation of the dogma of transubstantiation had car-
ried the power of the priesthood to absolute supremacy over
the Christian imagination. The Gothic, or as it is called
the pointed style, came later, when these things had been
accomplished. To the professed ecclesiologist, a church like
Trinity, without a spire, without the pointed arch, is an eye-
sore and hardly worthy to be called an ecclesiastical con-
struction, for their rejection seems to imply the sacrifice of
the ideas of solemnity and devotion, spire and arches
mounting upwards to express the soul of religious aspiration
pointing forever away from earth to heaven. But there is
another conception of religion than this, the consecration
of the world that now is, the recognition of the sacredness of
earth and of the secular life. To this conception Mr. Brooks
had given expression in an essay 1 read before the Church
Congress in 1875 on the " Best Method of Promoting Spir-
1 Essays and Addresses, pp. 20 ff. Also published separately by T. Whit-
taker, N. Y.
VOL. II
130 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
itual Life," where he had maintained that religion is not
something to be added to a man's nature over and above
what he already possesses, but it is rather the consecration
of all his gifts and powers to the service of God.
The spiritual life of man in its fullest sense is the activity of
man's whole nature under the highest spiritual impulse, which is
the love of God. It is not the activity of one set of powers, one
part of the nature. It is the movement of all the powers, of the
whole of his nature under a certain force and so with a certain
completeness and effect.
With this idea the architecture of Trinity Church is in
harmony. Nor is it lacking in seriousness, solemnity, and
devotion, but ministers to them, as also to a certain spiritual
serenity, in a manner and degree unsurpassed by what is called
the ecclesiological style.
It had formed a part of Richardson's design that the interior
of the church should be decorated in accordance with a large
plan embracing the whole and every separate part in its
unity of treatment ; that this should be done by some crea-
tive mind, capable of a task which in this country hitherto
had no precedent ; that the church within should be rich with
the luxuriance of color, as well as with paintings representing
angelic intelligences and the great personages of religious
history. Into this scheme Phillips Brooks entered with en-
thusiasm. For its criticism and appreciation he had prepared
himself by lingering in the art galleries, the museums, the
churches of the Old World, with an almost passionate devo-
tion. He studied and penetrated the artistic purpose; he
knew how to enjoy ; he was the natural friend of every artist.
In close connection with this artistic sense, there was one
peculiarity about him, so marked as to be almost extra-
ordinary, his love of color, in itself and for its own sake.
There is some mystery here which we do not fathom. If it
be true, as has been suggested, that color is only a subtler,
higher form of music, his whole being was responding to its
innumerable manifestations, and it ministered to him a per-
petual inward delight. His susceptibility to color was almost
feminine, so quick was he to feel and appreciate. But he
-*t. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 131
seems to have loved pure color, apart from any attempt at
adjustment or harmony. This was shown in little things,
as when, in one of his later journeys in Europe, he bought a
piece of richly colored glass, carrying it in his pocket, simply
for the pleasure it gave him to look at it. In the highest
sense of the word he was not musical. But if color be
only another form of the musical appeal, a higher and in
some ways more intellectual and more spiritual form, then
we can understand how he had more than a substitute for the
melody of sound. He became also an adept and a devotee in
the matter of stained glass, studying at factories abroad the
method of its production. It was no indifferent subject, then,
to Phillips Brooks, when the architect proposed that the
church should be made glorious by the richest effects of color
which the best artists could devise.
But to execute these things called for a large expenditure
of money as well as the artistic, creative imagination to de-
vise them. Upon this point there was the inevitable sensi-
tiveness partly grounded in human nature, and partly in the
movements of the age. Puritanism had not hitherto been
favorable to the cultivation of beauty or splendor in its
churches. The reaction at the Reformation when iconoclasm
marred or wrecked so many mediaeval monuments was an influ-
ence which had. not wholly lost its force. To this lurking
mood which would have made practical necessity the ruling
idea and not beauty or splendor the mood of the disciple
who exclaimed at the waste of the costly ointment, "This
might have been sold and given to the poor " there came a
reinforcement in the socialistic temper of the hour, which
was making good men sensitive to the uses of wealth. Upon
this point there is evidence that Phillips Brooks had thought
seriously and come to a conclusion. There was a danger lest
men in their desire to be of service to others should lessen
and reduce themselves by the neglect of the gifts of God, and
so hinder and even frustrate their mission. To set forth the
richness and the beauty of God's creation in a temple where
these things were read as in a symbol was in itself a motive
and a stimulus for which the world, the poor also whom we
i 3 2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
have always with us, would be the better. Hence Mr. Brooks
not only justified the lavish use of wealth for the beautifying
and ennobling of the house of God, but his voice was inspiring
as he made the appeal to his congregation. In 1897, at the
twentieth anniversary of the consecration of Trinity Church,
his successor, Rev. E. W. Donald, referred in his sermon to
this point, when the results of the experiment were manifest :
These twenty years have demonstrated a fact which I fancy
will always need demonstration in the eyes of those people who
immemOrially have "begrudged the house of God the touch of
beauty," and deplored great cost in its erection and adornment.
You built a splendid temple; you meant to build a splendid tem-
ple. You spared no cost; you nobly met every demand which
enlarged plans and richer beauty year by year made upon your
generosity. You had to meet the plain-spoken criticism of those
who insisted that the difference between slightness and solidity,
between barrenness and beauty, should have been given to works
of mercy, religion, and education. If the cost of this building
had been funded and the interest of the fund devoted to causes
universally acknowledged to be worthy, the aggregate income of
twenty years would not equal the munificent sum which, with the
blessing of God upon it, has been offered and distributed by
Trinity Church.
The interest in watching the progress of the work grew
stronger as the many anxious problems in the matter of con-
struction were met and overcome. The completed edifice
did not quite represent the original intention of the archi-
tect. The walls were to have been several feet higher, and
" the original design of the tower showed a square lantern
with turrets at each corner, much like the present tower, but
surmounted by an octagonal portion rising some fifty feet
higher." But to carry out this plan of the tower called for
walls of such thickness in the tower that, in the minds of
experts who were consulted, the foundations, however strong,
would not be strong enough to support the weight. To this
criticism Mr. Richardson demurred, but the change was made.
The lowering of the walls was partly in obedience to acoustic
demands, which were an important consideration, as was also
the construction of the ceiling, a wisdom justified by the
result.
iET. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 133
The first difficulty to be overcome lay in the nature of the
ground, which was of gravel filled in, what is called " made
land," incapable of sustaining the weight of a building. In
the spring of 1873 the work began of preparing the founda-
tions. The number of piles which were driven was some
forty-eight hundred. A careful record was kept of each pile
driven, " the number of blows required to drive it to a resist-
ing medium, the depth to which it was driven, the height
from which the hammer fell, the weight of the hammer, and
the number of inches which the head of the pile sank at each
of the last three blows." The final determination of the plan
of the church was delayed until this preliminary work was
done. In the fall of 1873 the contract was made for the
masonry of the structure. The immense weight of the central
tower constituted the chief difficulty against which an excess
of precaution was taken. The four piers which support it,
carrying arches, fifty feet in span, the whole tower weigh-
ing nineteen million pounds, rest upon four truncated pyra-
mids, each thirty-five feet square at the base, seven feet
square at the top, and seventeen feet high. Mr. Richardson
has told the story of the experiments made, the failures, the
work which had to be undone, the time taken for testing ex-
periments, with stones and cement of different kinds, until
the desired security was attained. Thus the year 1873 was
spent in getting ready, a tedious year which to onlookers
yielded no visible result.
In the following year the work was pushed rapidly forward.
The corner stone should have been laid in the summer of
1874, but owing to Mr. Brooks's absence in Europe the event
was postponed till November 10, when the height of the walls
prevented the attendance of all but a few. The contract
called for the completion, in November, 1874, of the chapel,
connected by a corridor with the church, and at that time the
congregation took possession of it, the foretaste of the greater
things to come. Through the following winter the stone was
cut for the remainder of the building at Westerly, Dedham,
and Longmeadow, some of it also coming from Rockport,
from Quincy, and from the coast of Maine. It is an interest-
i 34 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873^77
ing fact that much of the granite stone from the Old Trinity
on Summer Street has been worked into the foundations.
The massive scaffolding was now built which was to serve for
the piers and arches of towers, and which remained in place
in the interior, preventing any view of the final effect until it
was taken down a few days before the church was consecrated.
So the work went on, until in July, 1876, the last stone was
laid in the tower, and in its exterior appearance the church
was completed.
There now followed a period of impatient waiting for the
completion of the interior decoration. Mr. John La Farge,
the most eminent of American artists, to whose superintend-
ence this task was entrusted, gathered about him competent
assistants who labored with him, says Richardson, "in a
spirit of true artistic enthusiasm for a work so novel and
affording such an opportunity for the highest exercise of a
painter's talents." Mr. La Farge had a magnificent scheme,
but it required time for its fulfilment, and time was now
becoming a condition which he could not control. He asked
for an extension and it was given him, but even that was
not sufficient. Still he had accomplished much and made
the completion necessary and possible also at a future day.
At first it had only been intended that he should paint a
few pictures on the walls. But he and Richardson saw their
opportunity to attempt something never before accomplished
in America. He succeeded in obtaining permission to paint
pictures which should be an organic part of a great scheme
of color for the whole church. He did not ask for any ade-
quate compensation, but only for permission to make the
effort.. He confined his attention to the roof and the walls
of the central tower in the confidence that if this were com-
pleted the rest would follow. He consented to stop his work
on the thirty-first day of January, 1877, and with great doubts
and misgivings the day of consecration was fixed for Feb-
ruary 9. He labored up to the last moment of the allotted
time, and is reported to have spent the whole night of Jan-
uary 31 at his work. Then began the task of taking down
the great tower staging, which had stood for two years and
mt. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 135
a half, when for the first time the full effect of the interior
was visible.
It is not possible here to go into any detailed description
of the building or its decoration. At the time of its erection
it awakened an unusual interest in Boston ; its progress was
followed by the newspapers ; architects discussed it at their
meetings. There was no standard for judgment or compari-
son ; some called it the chief architectural ornament of the
city ; others said it surpassed in magnificence any church in
New England; and others, still, were not afraid, as they
thought of the architect and his colaborers, to pronounce it
unequalled throughout the land. A report of the impression
it produced, in its then novel beauty and magnificence upon
a competent judge, is taken from the " Boston Transcript "
of February 5, which will stand for many similar notices
written at the time :
A splendid surprise is in store for the worshippers at Trinity
Church on the opening of that temple to the public for consecra-
tion next Friday. The interior is impressive in its vast spaces
alone, the grandeur of its wide and lofty arches spanning nave
and transepts, and the height of the ceiling in the great square
tower open to the sight far beyond the vaulted roof. The grand
exterior dimensions of the church somewhat prepare one for the
spaciousness within. But only seeing can realize the superb
beauty of the decoration, rich yet not garish, elaborate and not
"piled on," magnificent in splendors, yet noble and dignified,
artistic yet religious and fitting for the place. Its richness is
beyond compare, because there is literally nothing like it this side
of the ocean. Trinity is the first church in this country to be
decorated by artists, as distinguished from artisans. The result
must be to make an era in American art and Church building.
On February 3 the last timbers of the staging were taken
down. In the five days that remained the work was carried
on with great rapidity, of cleaning, finishing the floor, putting
up the pews, laying the carpets, completing the organ, and on
Thursday night, February 8, everything was done. The debt
of $60,000, unavoidably incurred, had been paid as soon as
the appeal to remove it was received. The following day
was to be the greatest in the history of the parish, memorable
136 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
for the congregation, but chiefly for the building committee,
the architect, and the rector : an occasion of interest, also,
to more than could participate in the ceremonies, to those
outside of the Episcopal Church, and to the city of Boston.
To Mr. Brooks it was left to perfect the details of the
function of consecration, that it might be worthily performed.
The services began at eleven o'clock, and by that time the
church was crowded. Among the invited guests were the
Governor of the State, the Mayor of Boston, clergymen of
other denominations, the wardens and vestrymen of other
parishes, the architect, the artists, and builders. The late
Colonel Theodore Lyman, a friend and college classmate of
the rector, acted as the marshal of the day. One hundred
and seven clergymen walked, in procession from the chapel
to the western entrance, where they were received by the
wardens and vestry of the Church, and together went up the
nave, reciting alternately the twenty-fourth Psalm, whose
sentences seemed to take on a deeper meaning : " The earth
is the Lord's and all that therein is ; the compass of the world
and they that dwell therein. Lift up your heads, O ye gates ;
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors ; and the King of glory
shall come in." The consecration prayers were said by Bishop
Paddock ; the Instrument of Donation was read by Charles
Henry Parker, the senior warden, and the sentence of conse-
cration by the Rev. W. E. Huntington of Worcester. It
was characteristic of Phillips Brooks that he should call about
him on such a day the friends of his life who were in the min-
istry, or who had been associated with him in the theologi-
cal seminary. Thus the Rev. Arthur Brooks, the Rev. Thomas
S. Yocum, the Rev. Wilbur F. Paddock, and the Rev. C. A. L.
Richards were assigned parts in the service. The Rev. Dr.
Richard Newton represented Philadelphia and its associations.
The venerable Stephen H. Tyng of New York read the Com-
mandments, the Rev. Henry C. Potter the Epistle, and the
Gospel was taken by Rev. George Z. Gray, the Dean of the
Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge. But in the chief
place of honor stood Dr. Vinton to perform the act necessary to
complete and crown the occasion, the delivery of the sermon.
iET. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 137
He had followed Phillips Brooks from his boyhood, had
advised with him when in uncertain groping after his life-
work he had first thought of the Christian ministry ; he had
received him to his heart and home when as a young clergy-
man he came to Philadelphia ; had made the way for him to
the Church of the Holy Trinity as his successor ; had been his
counsellor on every occasion, blessing him away from Phila-
delphia to Boston, and now in Boston, once more as the rector
of Emmanuel Church, had resumed the old relation in deeper,
more sacred intimacy. Dr. Vinton preached the sermon, and
his text was Revelation xxi. 22 : "I saw no temple therein :
for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of
it." Then followed the Communion service at which Bishop
Paddock officiated, assisted by the Bishop of Central Pennsyl-
vania, the Rt. Rev. M. A. DeWolfe Howe. The music was
under the direction of the organist of Trinity, Mr. James
C. D. Parker ; the choir consisted of Miss Parker, Dr.
Langmaid, Miss Morse, and Mr. Aiken, together with a
chorus of forty voices. With a lunch served at the adjacent
Hotel Brunswick, the exhilarating and glorious occasion came
to an end. This letter, manifesting the spirit in which the
building of Trinity Church was accomplished, was written to
the rector by Mr. Robert Treat Paine on the evening of the
day of its consecration :
Boston, Friday, February 9, 1877.
And now, my dear old Friend, at the close of this great day,
which has brought the glorious consummation of our hopes and
prayers, I want to send you a few words to say how this long five
years' labor, working with you and for you and for our noble
church, has been to me an inexpressible pleasure.
In all the difficult and doubtful questions which have met us
from time to time, the hand of God seems to have guided us and
to have brought us to a wise decision. I have felt throughout
that your prayers were powerful to get this aid and guidance.
On one matter, that of involving the Parish in debt, I have
always been moved in two directions, feeling on the one hand that
we were bound not to load the future of the Church with a heavy
debt, and that as an agent of theirs I must be faithful to this
obligation, and yet on the other hand unable myself to tolerate
the idea that, in carrying out the great work of transplanting
138 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
the church from one site to another and building our new church
to stand for centuries as we trust, we should strive or even be
willing only to use the resources of the past.
Here, too, God seems to have been with us. And the debt,
which in spite of our efforts to keep it down rolled up so large a
sum, has only given us all an opportunity to show the love of the
whole people to you, and their readiness to follow your example
of great generosity, and their devotion to our glorious new House
of God. The eager and noble response to your appeal shows
better than any words, not only their love to you, but how much
you have done in them.
Not one of the donors, large or small, but must always love it
more as his church, now that he has taken his part in its comple-
tion. And surely we must feel more worthy to have it and enjoy
it, when we have added so largely to make it broad and beautiful
and rich.
May the spirit of the Living God go with us into our new Home,
and fill it and you and all of us full of His presence and power
and blessing in this generation and many future generations, and
make it a mighty power for good so that we shall not have
builded it in vain, this is the prayer of one whose rare privilege
it has been to be in this matter your coworker, and always your
friend, R. T. Paine, Jk.
To this letter Mr. Brooks replied :
Hotel Kempton, Boston, Saturday evening 1 ,
February 10, 1877.
I wish I could tell you, my dear Bob, something of what yes-
terday was to me, and of how my deep gratitude and love to you
mingled with the feeling of every hour. May God bless you is
all that I can say. The Church would not be standing there, the
beautiful and stately thing that it is, except for your tireless
devotion. How often I have wondered at your undiscouraged
faith; and all my life as I look back on these years of anxiety
and work, I shall see a picture of constancy which I know will
make me stronger for whatever I have to do. Your kind words
crown the whole and leave nothing to be desired in this complete
achievement.
I am almost appalled when I think what the great work in this
new Church may be. I know that I shall have your help and
prayers in the part of it which will fall to me to do. Many,
many happy years are before us, if God will, and when we leave
the great dear thing to those who come after us we shall be near
one another, I am sure, in the better life.
jet. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 139
I cannot realize to-morrow. But I know it will be a happy
day. And so may God's blessings rest on you and yours always.
Your grateful friend, P. B.
In the following letter the Proprietors of Trinity Church
acknowledge the contribution of the rector to the beauty and
glory of the new edifice :
Boston, 9 Doane Street, April 4, 1877.
My dear Mr. Brooks, At the annual meeting of the Pro-
prietors of Trinity Church, held on Easter Monday, last, the
following vote was passed and is now transcribed from the
Records :
That in the midst of the rejoicing with which our people with
overflowing numbers of old friends and large accessions of new-
comers have crowded our new and spacious House of Worship, we
cannot let this great epoch in the life of our ancient Parish pass,
without placing on permanent record our sense of the deep obliga-
tions of us and our whole people to our beloved Rector, Mr.
Brooks.
We have heard with pleasure our Building Committee report
that throughout this great five years' enterprise of building our new
Church, his taste and culture, his zeal and patience and faith have
largely aided in the great result ; that to him in large measure is
due the beauty and the glory of the new Church ; that he has been
himself the inspiration of the Architect, Builders, and Committee.
We appreciate most deeply his noble generosity in contributing
so largely to the treasury of the Parish, and in thus setting an
example which was followed by our people so liberally that we
have been able to present our church free from debt and conse-
crated to God. And we accept his gift as one more proof among
many of his ardent love to his parish.
We cannot conclude these few words, so feebly expressing our
gratitude to our noble pastor and beloved friend, without telling
him how deeply we all feel indebted to him for holding our Parish
so firmly united by his devotion to us, through all the dreary
interval between our old home on Summer Street and our new
Church. The love of our whole people, men, women, and chil-
dren, is all that we can give him in return.
A true copy from the Records,
Attest : Stephen G. Deblois, Clerk of Corporation.
It may seem to mar so beautiful a narrative, but it is
necessary to allude to an incident which occurred in connec-
tion with the services of consecration. To the sacrament of
i 4 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
the Lord's Supper there came many clergymen of other
denominations, and among them were eminent Unitarian
divines, all of whom had been personally invited to remain
for the communion. Such an event might in other days have
taken place without comment. But at this peculiar juncture
of ecclesiastical circumstances it called forth criticism and
condemnation. The late Rev. O. B. Frothingham, who re-
presented the movement known as " Free Religion," com-
plained in a letter to Dr. James Freeman Clarke, published
in " The Inquirer " (Unitarian), that by participating in the
sacrament at Trinity Church Dr. Clarke had shown himself
oblivious of the high ideal of his own communion :
The dignitaries (?) who invited the liberal clergy to partake of
the sacrament did what was for them a generous thing; they
were liberal and magnanimous ; they forgot for a moment their
ecclesiasticism, the stringency of their dogma, the exclusiveness
of their institution, the anathema of their creed. . . . Their eye
had caught the vision of a broad church, whose enclosing walls
embraced believers of every name. But what shall we think of
the liberals who accepted the invitation? Were they looking for-
ward? Were their faces bathed in light? Were they straining
the line of their traditions?
To this piece of fine rhetoric, beneath which was the
familiar ecclesiastical exclusiveness, Dr. Clarke briefly re-
plied that in his judgment it was more in accordance with
the spirit of liberal Christianity to accept such an invitation
than to refuse it. He distinguished between the simple rite
of the Lord's Supper and any formal ceremonial with which
it might be encompassed. To Mr. Brooks he wrote : "I was
not at all disturbed by what was said by some Unitarians of
our communing at your church. Their objections seemed to
me too frivolous to deserve notice, but for the sake of the
principle I thought it worth while to reply to Frothingham's
strictures and may do so again. But really it seems almost
too simple a matter to discuss."
From the other side there came a protest by a presbyter
of the Episcopal Church to the bishop of the diocese against
what seemed to him " a grievous sacrilege " at the consecration
of Trinity Church, in the admission to the Holy Communion
mt. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 141
of " those who avowedly deny the faith once delivered to the
saints, even concerning the fundamental doctrines of our
Lord's Godhead." Such an act was to be regarded as a vio-
lation of Scripture, of " Catholic " custom, and of Christian
instinct, as well as contrary to the letter and spirit of the
formularies of the Protestant Episcopal Church.
The newspapers took up the subject, speaking of it as an
unprecedented circumstance, never witnessed in the Episco-
pal Church before. Mr. Brooks kept silence. He had made
up his mind to keep out of ecclesiastical controversy. As
to the meaning of the formularies of the Episcopal Church,
he had long since come to the conclusion that they were not
intended to exclude from the communion those who did not
accept her articles of faith or follow her mode of worship.
He was in sympathy with Dean Stanley's attitude in admin-
istering the Lord's Supper to Dr. Vance Smith, a Unitarian
minister, when the Communion was kept in Westminster
Abbey, at the moment the revisers of the New Testament
were about to begin their work. Those who objected to this
act of intercommunion did not, as he thought, represent the
spirit or the history of the Church of England or of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in this country. He, too, dis-
tinguished between the ceremonial forms or professions which
accompanied the act of Holy Communion and the simple rite
itself, the eating of the bread and the participation in the
cup of blessing. The one essential requisition for the com-
munion were the words of invitation in the office itself : " Ye
who do truly and earnestly repent you of your sins, and are
in love and charity with your neighbors, and intend to lead a
new life, following the commandments of God, and walking
from henceforth in His holy ways, draw near with faith, and
take this Holy Sacrament to your comfort."
Because he was convinced of the truth of the doctrines of
the Trinity and the Incarnation, it did not follow that he
should refuse to associate with those who could not receive
them. The " Catholic " usage which forbade Christian fellow-
ship with those who denied the coequality of the Son with
the Father was not necessarily Christian usage, and was no
142 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
ideal to be followed. From this position he did not recede.
But, as in the case of Dean Stanley, his comprehensiveness of
spirit was obnoxious to many of his brethren ; his action was
not to be forgotten ; he was destined to hear from it again
after many years. He had gained, however, the confidence
and affection of ministers and people of every Christian
denomination. The love and respect of the Unitarians in
Boston were henceforth accorded to him as to no other man
outside their own communion.
The new Trinity Church was not what is technically known
as a " free church," nor did the rector covet for it that title,
knowing as he did how phrases which spoke much to the ear
might in reality be hollow. The pews were owned or rented
by the Proprietors, and on each pew a tax was laid for the
support of public worship. But the large galleries in the
transepts of the church were free in every sense; no tax was
laid on them, and no contribution solicited from those who
occupied them. It had been an object kept in view by Mr.
Brooks when the plans of the church were drawn, and urged
by him upon the architect, that this ample accommodation
should be provided. When it is remembered that the gal-
leries accommodate some four hundred people, a larger
congregation than is found in most churches, thus constitut-
ing as it were a church within a church, the generosity
of Trinity Church can hardly be impugned, even if it is not
known in ecclesiastical parlance as a free church. Not only
so, but it was understood between the rector and the congre-
gation that at an early moment in the service pews not
occupied should be regarded as vacant, to be placed at the
disposal of the stranger.
These things were making their impression upon the peo-
ple of Boston and the community at large, changing what
had been a long and deep-seated prejudice into a mood of
expectation that with Phillips Brooks as a leader there was a
great work in the city for the Episcopal Church to accom-
plish. Boston was the city of the Puritans, their chief strong-
hold, where memories were long and traditions tenacious.
The revival of the study of American history was bringing
jet. 37-41] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 143
out again in new vividness the grievances, real or fancied, of
the time of the Stuarts and the age of the Commonwealth.
The people of Boston were not to be deceived with sounding
phrases ; they were quicker than most people to get at the
reality of things, and there were many among them who
disliked or mistrusted the Episcopal Church. They did not
believe that anything good could come out of it. It seemed
to them like an alien church, whose spirit was hostile to
liberty and to religious freedom. They watched its bishops,
thinking that they detected in them as of old the tendency
of ecclesiastical power to beget tyranny. Its services seemed
to them cold, formal, and meagre, inadequate to the expres-
sion of human sympathies or spiritual aspirations. These
long-standing prejudices had been aggravated by the ecclesias-
tical reaction which followed in the wake of the Oxford
Movement, verifying the reasons for the ancient dislike and
dread of a communion which was now seeking for fellowship
with Rome, and had learned to disown the Protestant
churches as having no place within the bounds of organic
Christianity.
It was the work of Phillips Brooks in Boston and through-
out the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to overcome this
dread and disarm these suspicions. The traces of his influ-
ence now begin to be manifest. There was no one among
the descendants of the Puritans who had a more represent-
ative estimate of the situation than the late Rev. Dr. George
E. Ellis. He was a Unitarian minister retired from active
service, devoting his leisure to historical reading and the
writing of books, at a later time to become the honored pre-
sident of the Massachusetts Historical Society. He was one of
those who went to the Communion in Trinity Church. This
letter will show how strongly he was drawn to Mr. Brooks :
110 Marlborough Street, February 10, 1877.
My dear Mr. Brooks, After thoughtfully digesting the
noble and appropriate services and the delightful experiences of
yesterday in connection with the consecration of Trinity Church,
I feel prompted to express to you in this form my sincerest con-
gratulations on the fair completion of an undertaking which must
i 4 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1873-77
have engaged so deeply your own anxieties and interests. It has
been something more and better than mere curiosity that has led
me almost daily to watch the progress of a critical and generous
enterprise, from the driving of the first pile to the solemn dedica-
tion of the completed sanctuary. In my view, the distinctive
character of your congregation, your own ministry, and the pro-
minent and honored position which you represent before this com-
munity conserve the very best elements of religious culture, and
of a spirit of Christian comprehensiveness and liberality, associ-
ated in my thought with the selectest fellowship of the class of
disciples with whom I have been most intimately connected ;
while at the same time the original deposit of the faith and the
fitness of its dispensation have found in you a wiser guardianship
than it proved to have with the so-called Liberal denomination as
a whole. So I would venture with much respect to assure you
that I am heartily interested in the effective work which, with
such modest personal unobtrusiveness and with such power, you
are doing among us.
And I must recognize with a hearty appreciation and gratitude
the delightful Christian courtesy shown towards all the miscella-
neous company of ministers, including myself, in the arrangement
made yesterday for our participation in and enjoyment of the
seemly and impressive services, especially the Holy Communion.
With sincerest respect and regard, I am
Very truly yours,
George E. Ellis.
Rev. Phillips Brooks.
The following comments from the daily newspapers of
Boston are not quite free from a touch of severe kindliness.
There is a tone in one of them, at least, of lingering uncer-
tainty ; they warn while they praise ; but, on the whole, they
are constrained to trust the larger hope for the Episcopal
Church. As for Phillips Brooks, they join in the chorus of
unqualified approbation. The first extract is from the " Bos-
ton Globe," the second from the "Daily Advertiser : "
The Episcopal Church is evidently to have a future in Boston,
and has now, at least, one house of worship to which all can point
with local pride. It remains, however, to be seen how Bishop
Paddock and his coworkers shall develop their religious body as
a Christian force in this community. If this Church shall largely
show forth the admirable spirit for which Phillips Brooks is so
well known, the spirit of liberality and cordial sympathy toward
- ,.,--...,.:
jet. 37 _ 4 i] NEW TRINITY CHURCH 145
all Christian people, it will rapidly gain in strength and numbers.
To-day this purpose appears to be in the ascendant, and the
result is a cause for rejoicing everywhere. We do not ask Epis-
copalians to change their polity or their doctrines, but as a con-
servative Church to be sympathetic, generous, and noble in practi-
cal work ; and it is because the ovation of yesterday points in this
direction that we give it mention here. Not the least interesting
feature of the services yesterday was the invited presence of the
pastors of nearly all the leading congregations in the city. The
Episcopal Church lost nothing by this, and the whole community
gained a great deal.
The dedication of Trinity Church to-day is an occasion of inter-
est to many more than those who will participate in the cere-
monies, and to persons who do not belong to the Episcopal
Church communion, as well as to churchmen and churchwomen.
In the first place the parish is an historic one, and for many
generations has had a conspicuous place in Boston's annals. In
the next place the building to be dedicated ranks as one of the
notable ornaments of the city. . . . Not a little of the wide-
spread interest in this particular parish and its magnificent house
of worship is owing to the respect and affection felt for its elo-
quent and noble-hearted pastor. There is no doubt that when-
ever he leads the worship, whether in hall or cathedral, he will
exert a liberal, exalted, and powerful influence in behalf of the
highest standards of Christian living. The good wishes and
sincere prayers of a multitude which no church could contain will
ascend with the words of solemn dedication to be uttered within
the walls of the beautiful temple, that Trinity and Phillips Brooks
may long be spared to Boston and to mankind.
So Phillips Brooks took his place as in a cathedral, where
for many years he was to sway the people with an hitherto
unknown power. The enthronement of an ecclesiastical digni-
tary could possess no deeper significance. He seemed now to
stand at the height of his renown. He had other conquests
yet to achieve, but he had accomplished the most difficult, in
some respects the most important, of them all, he had
made the conquest of Boston. From this moment his friends
watched him with a feeling of pride mingled with awe, while
he continued to stride forward and upward, as if there had
been placed no limit to his power.
vol. n.
CHAPTER VI
1877-1879
EXTRACTS FROM CORRESPONDENCE. INVITATION TO PREACH
FOR MR. MOODY. SUMMER ABROAD. SERMON AT WEST-
MINSTER ABBEY. HARVARD UNIVERSITY CONFERS THE
DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF DIVINITY. COMMENTS ON THE
GENERAL CONVENTION.' VISIT OF DEAN STANLEY TO
AMERICA. ILLNESS AND DEATH OF WILLIAM GRAY
BROOKS
The chief event in the year 1877 was the consecration of
Trinity Church. Next to it in importance was the delivery,
before the Divinity School of Yale University, of the " Lec-
tures on Preaching," which will be referred to in a subse-
quent chapter. The lectures were delivered during the months
of January and February. Before entering the new Trinity
Church, Mr. Brooks had feared that his voice might not be
found sufficient for the large edifice, but the first trial
demonstrated that the fear was groundless. There were
places where it was difficult to hear, but he was heard as well
as any and better than most of those who officiated at its
consecration. 1
Dr. Tyng, then in the fifty-sixth year of his ministry, an
uncompromising Evangelical divine, but none the less in sym-
pathy with Phillips Brooks, wrote to him on his return to
New York :
1 In his Yale Lectures he had said little ahout the manner of delivering 1 a
sermon, but his one reference to elocution is of a humorous character: "Of
oratory and all the marvellous mysterious ways of those who teach it, I dare say
nothing. I believe in the true elocution teacher as I believe in the existence of
Halley's comet, which comes in sig'ht of this earth once in about seventy-six
years."
iBT. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 147
St. George's Rectory, New York, February 25, 1877.
My dear Brother, Two weeks ago I had the great plea-
sure of being with you in your new and grand Church. I have
desired to write to you since I returned home. But I have had
a busy and a feeble time. The impression made upon me by all
the events of my visit has been very absorbing. Familiar with
the time when the Old Church was in the midst of scattered
houses, and large gardens, I could hardly realize the prospect
from my windows as possible. Half a mile out in the sea, I
found myself in the midst of a new and wonderful city, more
grand and glorious than I had ever dreamed as possible. Boston
has thus become almost unrivalled as a City. The Churches now
in this new place are marked with a singular grandeur of as-
pect. But the glory of the later house for my dear old parental
Church was to me, perhaps, the chief wonder of the place. I
can but congratulate you, and all your contemporaries, over the
attainment you have made and at the prospect before you. In
the vast liberality of their action, and the majestic scale on which
they were ready to record it, they have given you a pledge for
great results, by God's blessing, for your whole succeeding min-
istry. . . .
Farewell. Pax Vobiscum,
Stephen H. Tyng.
Mr. Brooks responded to this letter in a spirit of reverence
and affection for its venerable writer. But he could not for-
bear taking exception to statements made by Dr. Tyng in a
sermon which he preached in the new church shortly after its
consecration. To the Rev. Arthur Brooks he writes :
March 5, 1877.
I have been amused at the way in which the New York clergy
have given us their blessing since we started. Dr. Tyng preached
for us on the afternoon of the first day, and told us that nobody
could be a Christian who did n't believe that the world was made
in six literal days. The Moses up in the New Tower laughed
aloud at the statement. Yesterday afternoon Dr. Morgan of St.
Thomas's in your town turned up and preached an orotund dis-
course which had quite a good manly flavor to it. In conse-
quence of his appearance, I find myself the surprised possessor of
a discourse which I have never preached, an event which has not
occurred before, except on a Saturday, for years. . . .
We are in the rush of Lent. One talks until he is tired of the
i 4 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
sound of his own voice, and then he talks some more. There is a
good healthy religious influence, I think, and underneath our little
work the deep thunder of the Moody movement is rolling all the
time. I hear nothing from Bristol, but have no doubt your Ordi-
nation took and all goes well there. 1
Boston, March 7, 1877.
Dearest Arthur, Queer what you said about Hans Sachs's
poems. I had sent for and got the volume, and here it is with
some of the jolliest woodcuts and German poetry, which is pretty
easy to make out, and very quaint. Oh, if we were but in Nurem-
berg, you and I, to-day! As a sort of variety in Lent I have
begun to read Miss Martineau's "Autobiography." It is as unlike
a Lent lecture as possible. The calm complacency of her unbelief
is something wonderful. Just here Mother came in to see me.
The first visit she has made this winter. They really seem likely
to break up and go to Andover this spring. I am talking of
taking their servants and setting up housekeeping this fall.
The allusion to the work in Boston of Mr. D. L. Moody,
the Evangelist, recalls the circumstance that while the revival
meetings were in progress Mr. Moody was for some reason
unable to preach, and Mr. Brooks was invited to take his
place. It was an interesting circumstance, and invested with
theological curiosity, that an Episcopal clergyman, the rector
of Trinity Church, should receive such an invitation. The
Episcopal Church had hitherto shown but little sympathy
with revivals. Many doubted whether Mr. Brooks was suffi-
ciently familiar with evangelistic methods to meet a con-
gregation drawn together by Mr. Moody's earnestness and
eloquence. But he was invited in the confidence that the
thousands who were flocking nightly to the tent, or Tabernacle
as it was called, where the services were held would not be
disappointed when they knew of the change. And this con-
fidence was not misplaced. It was an event in the history
of the revival that Phillips Brooks had taken part in it.
The announcement [said one of the Boston papers] that the
Rev. Phillips Brooks was to preach was sufficient to fill the
Tabernacle to its utmost capacity last evening. On no occasion
1 The reference is to the Rev. John Cotton Brooks, who after his ordination
became rector of St. James's Church, Bristol, Pa.
jet. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 149
has there been a larger audience, and it was composed of a much
different class of people than usually gather. The regular ser-
vices were opened by the congregation rising and singing, "Just
as I am without one plea." The Rev. W. W. Newton of St.
Paul's offered prayer, and Mr. Sankey gave the notices for the
week, and sang "The Ninety and Nine." Mr. Brooks read for
the Scripture lesson from the twenty-sixth chapter of Acts.
The congregation joined in singing the hymn, "'T is the promise
of God full salvation to give." Mr. Brooks then preached, and
the services closed with benediction.
The text from which the sermon was preached was the
passage from St. Paul where he describes his conversion:
"Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto
the heavenly vision." The preacher was at his best as he
unfolded the text, expounding the principle of conversion
as he himself had experienced it, that the vision must come
first, to be followed by obedience, when the sense of sin would
inevitably ensue, but with the assurance of forgiveness. He
condemned not only by irirplication, but in express language,
the opposite method which sought first to produce the sense of
sin, and after the conviction of forgiveness had been attained,
held out the prospect of the heavenly vision. He assumed
throughout that religion was natural to man, because all men
were by creation and by redemption the children of God.
They had wandered ; they had forgotten or neglected or were
ignorant of their birthright ; but when the vision came, it
appealed to something in every man's constitution, rousing
within him the dormant faculties of a divine relationship.
Dr. Tyng was moved when he heard of the incident, and
wrote to Mr. Brooks this letter :
St. George's Rectory, New York, March 24, 1877.
My dear Brother, I have read your Sermon at the Taber-
nacle, as reported in the "Journal," and I am grateful for the
grace which enabled you to do the thing itself in the midst of all
the prejudices of Boston, and then to do it so skilfully and well,
amidst the pressures of the occasion. I have always united with
those faithful brethren, because I have believed them doing God's
work, and in the way which His providence had planned. In
all the work which they have done under my notice, I have found
much to praise, much to be thankful for, nothing to reprove.
i$o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
That the varied shapes of denial, which modern Anti- Evangelism
has adopted, whether the pride of opinion, or the vanity of posi-
tion, or the veil of formalism, or the working of mere hatred of
truth, should combine against the simplicity of Truth as these
plain men present it could not surprise me, and would not in the
least move me. But perhaps there is no place where authority
so much opposes Freedom after all as our dear Old Boston. The
Cradle of Liberty in name, but at the same time the nursery of
much prejudice, and of much determination that no one shall
violate Boston Notions, whenever they become popular. That
you have given your growing influence to revival movements is
to me and to many a call for much thankfulness. God, even
our own God, will bless you and your work. I rejoice that you
were not disobedient to the Heavenly Vision. It is a curious
fact to remember how many have received a heavenly vision, in
Old Trinity in years gone by, when there was but little Earthly,
to make it probable, or to encourage it, when appearing. There
was always there an undercurrent of real, vital religion. It was
the home of many of the Lord's hidden ones. Your ministry
is the New Testament upon the Old, the bringing out to being
and view the things which were. The Gracious Lord bless you
in it all, and make you an eminent Caller forth of his hidden ones
to open light, usefulness, and glory. I take the greatest interest
in hearing of you, and am always glad to hear from you.
Faithfully yours,
Stephen H. Ttng.
It had now been three years since Mr. Brooks had known a
vacation which had brought him rest from preaching. In the
summer of 1875 he had preached at Emmanuel Church, Bos-
ton, and in the summer of 1876 at Emmanuel in the morning
and at St. Mark's in the evening. His congregations were
composed of dwellers in the city who could not leave, and of
strangers sojourning or passing through, who availed them-
selves of the opportunity. This free gift of himself met its
full appreciation, and was part of the larger ministry, whose
fruits would be manifest in due time. But now he had
resolved upon a summer abroad, for, though he does not
mention it, the strain had been long and severe. When his
intention was known to the people of Trinity Church, the
following unanimous resolution was taken at a meeting of the
Proprietors on Easter Monday :
jet. 4i-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 151
On Motion of Mr. Winthrop, it was Resolved: "That the
Proprietors of Trinity Church, deeply sensible of the great labors
of their Rector during the past year, and of the invaluable ser-
vices which he has rendered to the Church, desire to express their
cordial concurrence in his purpose to seek rest and relaxation in
foreign travel during the approaching summer, and that the sum
of Two Thousand dollars be appropriated towards defraying the
expenses of his tour, with the best wishes of us all that he may
enjoy the vacation which he has so richly earned, and return to
us with fresh vigor for his work."
While in London Mr. Brooks saw many people whom he
speaks of as pleasant and civil. General Grant was then in
England, of whom he writes as the great sensation, eclipsing
all other Americans, " as if they wondered what we had come
for." He dined at the American Minister's, and met the
" great warrior." He saw much of Dean Stanley and of the
English clergy, was admitted to the House of Lords and the
House of Commons, attended the Convocation of the southern
province, listening to a discussion on the subject of the con-
fessional, which ended in a vote by a large majority on the
Protestant side. He carried with him abroad the interests of
Trinity Church. To the late Hon. Robert C. Winthrop, who
was also in England, he wrote :
London, July 4, 1877.
Dear Mb. Winthrop, I must write you a few words to
tell you how much I enjoyed my little visit to Groton yesterday,
and how much I thank you for sending me there. It was a
delightful day, and the drive from Sudbury to Groton was very
charming. The Rector was most courteous and hospitable, and I
saw all that must always make the place very interesting to
Massachusetts men. I congratulate you upon this window in the
church at Groton. It was looking very beautiful yesterday. The
thick glass behind it seems to have brought it to just the right
degree of brilliancy and color. The restoration of the tomb
seemed to me also to have been thoroughly well done.
My glass efforts in London have been very perplexing. Clayton
& Bell were shamefully behindhand, and yet what they had done
seemed to me even better than the window already in the Chancel.
The Lord's Supper window is almost finished, and the centre
window is just begun in glass from a cartoon which I like exceed-
ingly. I have not definitely entrusted the other four windows to
152 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
them, but I have no doubt that I shall do so this week. I leave
for the Continent next Monday (July 9). My only hesitation
is in the matter of time. They promise to have them all done by
next Easter or Whitsunday at the farthest, but we know what
their promises are worth. But I am sure that when they come
they will be thoroughly good. I hope that the Committee will
think that I have done right. I called at Burlison & Grill's
the first day I was in London, but found they had just sent your
window. It is probably in its place before this, and I hope it
wholly pleases you. They had some beautiful work just finished
for Lichfield Cathedral, and I hear them praised everywhere.
I was sorry to find that Lady Rose had left town. She wrote
kindly, asking me to come to Henley-on-Thames, but I was not
able to command the day. I saw the Archbishop, who asked much
of you. Dean Stanley is sadly changed since I saw him last,
and the Deanery is a very different place. I have promised to
preach for him in the Abbey on Sunday morning, which will be my
only preaching away from Trinity. I beg you to remember me
most kindly to Mrs. Winthrop, and I am
Most faithfully yours,
Phillips Brooks.
On Sunday, July 8, he preached for the second time at
Westminster Abbey. There was no complaint of bis not being
heard. Canon Farrar, whose acquaintance he now made, wrote
to him, " It was a very great pleasure to me to resign the
Abbey pulpit to you, and very nobly you used the opportu-
nity." Dean Stanley, who was present, listened with delight
to a doctrine which was after his own heart. The text was
from Isaiah lx. 19 : " The sun shall be no more thy light by
day ; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto
thee : but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light,
and thy God thy glory." The subject was " The Symbol and
the Reality." At a moment when the symbolism of mediaeval
ritual was urged upon the modern church as though the Pro-
testant Reformation had been mistaken in abandoning it, when
it was argued that an elaborate and gorgeous symbolism was
a necessity of the religious life, the conviction was growing
stronger in the mind of the preacher that this was not the
method which brought the highest result, that no symbol was
doing its true work unless it was educating those who used it
jet. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 153
to do without it if need be. This principle was applied not
only to religious symbolism, but to all the symbols of life.
Everywhere the letter stands for the spirit, and to give up
the letter, that the spirit may live more fully, becomes from
time to time the absolute necessity.
After a few weeks in England, Mr. Brooks left for the Con-
tinent, going first to Belgium and Holland, then up the Rhine,
pausing for a moment in Germany, then to Italy, Venice,
Florence, and Milan, and finally to Switzerland. While he
was in Holland he received the news that Harvard University
had in his absence conferred upon him the honorary degree of
Doctor of Divinity. On the diploma which was sent to him
it read that the degree was given " in recognition of his elo-
quence as a preacher, his dignity and purity of life as a
minister of religion, and his liberality and large-mindedness
as a man." To the Rev. James P. Franks of Salem, who first
conveyed him the news, he wrote that he would not be called
Dr. Brooks. To his friends and parishioners, and to people
generally, it seemed most fitting still to call him Mr. Brooks,
as though ecclesiastical titles, however deserved, somehow
separated them from the man. There was a self-conscious
smile when his friends ventured to address him as Dr. Brooks.
Old Bible Hotel, Amsterdam, Sunday, July 15, 1877.
Dear James, You are a jewel of a fellow to write me that
letter. It reached me as I was dressing myself at Brussels the
other morning. It was the first news I heard of the honor which
Harvard had done me. I was surprised at it, and of course grati-
fied. I had supposed the College had given up all idea of making
any more D. D.'s, and especially that they would not give the
degree to one of their own overseers. But as they have thought
good to do it, I am pleased and proud, for a Cambridge man
thinks that there are no honors like those which come from Cam-
bridge. Only I won't be called Dr. Brooks, and you may stop
that for me when and where you can.
How I wish you were here to-day, sitting this morning, looking
out with me on this muddy Canal, and seeing the Dutchies go to
Church. It is very odd and interesting. We would go off some-
where into the country this afternoon, and get under the shadow
of a windmill, and talk about all sorts of things, from the day we
first met in Philadelphia to the prospects of the next General
1^4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
Convention. Then we would come home to table d'hote and
spend the evening in the big square which they profanely call the
" Dam, " looking at the people, and seeing what queer things they
do. But that mustn't be. You are in Salem and preparing to
preach the gospel to S to-day. I honor you, and I am glad I
am not in your place. Last Sunday I preached for Mr. Stanley at
his church in London, and William and I were much in the little
man's company while we were in his town. He is very pleasant
and entertaining, but much changed since his wife's death. He
has grown old, and seems to be fighting hard to keep up an inter-
est in things. The usual collection of Broad Churchmen was
about him, and convocation was sitting in Westminster School
almost under his roof. I heard a long debate one day on "The
Priest in Absolution. " On the whole, London was delightful and
I was glad to get out of it for the Continent, as I always am. I
investigated all the Glass-makers, and found some very interest-
ing men among them.
We are at Holland now, and all this week we shall be here.
How I wish you were here ! William is well and seems to enjoy
it all, and is first-rate company. My bestest love to Sally and
the babies, and come and see me in September at 175 Marlborough.
Always yours, P. B.
Mr. Brooks returned to Boston in September to live there
henceforth under changed conditions. His father and mother
had given up their house on Hancock Street, and had gone to
North Andover to reside in the old Phillips homestead.
Forty-four years had elapsed since in the same house, to
which they now returned, they had been married and thence
had come to Boston, establishing themselves in the first home
on High Street. They had seen six boys go out from them
into the world, four of them still living, and now that the
youngest had gone from home, they looked to North Andover
as a quiet retreat in the decline of life. Mr. Brooks would
gladly have had them come to live with him, and would have
made any arrangements for that end ; he had counted upon
it as his pleasure and privilege, but the parents declined to
accept such an invitation from him or any of the other sons.
It was understood in the family that it was not possible. The
mother refused on principle any such invitation. For many
years Mr. Brooks had kept his bachelor quarters in boarding
alt. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 155
houses and hotels, first on Mount Vernon Street, and then at
the Hotel Kempton on Berkeley Street. He now set up
housekeeping for the first time at No. 175 Marlborough Street,
taking into his employment the servants who had lived with
his mother.
Mr. Brooks had returned to find the General Convention
of the Episcopal Church sitting in Boston, but was unable to
attend its sessions on account of illness, what was called
a slow fever, which confined him for a time to the house. He
had at this time also some difficulty in walking, owing, it may
have been, to his increasing weight. These were not favor-
able conditions for judging of the work of a General Conven-
tion.
" Last Sunday," he writes, " I had three bishops in Trinity,
and went to all the services, and by night was saturated with
commonplace."
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, October 8, 1877.
Dear old Cooper, A thousand thanks for your letter.
Well, I am home again, and once more Europe is behind my back.
I had a royal time, and lots of places put me in mind of our sum-
mer there which, after all, was the best of all. Let 's see : we
drove again up the Inn Valley starting from Innsbruck (where
they have got now a tremendous new hotel). We stopped again
at Landeck and Mais and FinstermUnz, and such an afternoon
and night as we had at Trafoi you never saw. It is the most
gorgeous view and made me think with horror of what was hid
from us on that rainy afternoon we passed there. The ride up
the Stelvio was superb, but at the top we had a driving snowstorm
and went over the ridge buttoned up to the chin and our hands
down deep in our pockets. Then down to Bormio where was the
bath, and then by Tirano to Lake Como and Venice and Bologna
and Florence. It was all beautiful, and now seems like the same
dream that those journeys always do when they are over.
We had a quiet, dull voyage home, and the day before we landed
I was taken with what the Doctor calls a slow fever which has
kept me a good deal shut up ever since. It is the slowest fever
that ever was got up. The seat of it is principally in the back
of the knees which give way when you have walked about a
square. Altogether it is an attack of general good-for-nothing-
ness which I am tired of, and which I am glad to be able to hope
is almost over now.
i 5 6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
It has allowed me to ignore the General Convention which is
going on in as miserable and useless a way as you can conceive.
There is nothing for them to do, and they are trying hard to
make something by bringing up all kinds of ridiculous proposi-
tions. I was glad once more to sign the petition about the Bap-
tismal service. It reminded me of good old times, and I hope
we shall have it triannually as long as this church stands. It
never will be granted of course.
I can't come on in November. I wish I could, but I must be at
work. The summer and the sickness and the Convention together
have lost me so much time, and then I have promised to go to
the Congress in New York. I hope I shall meet you there, for I
do want to see you ever so much. My kindest remembrances to
Mrs. Cooper. Don't forget me.
Your old friend, P. B.
To Eev. W. N. McVickar, who had become the rector of
Holy Trinity Church in Philadelphia, he writes :
October 17, 1877.
My dear William, ... I had a splendid summer and
hated to come home. I always do. But now that I am here I
am reconciled, for is n't the General Convention here, and does n't
it bring all the good fellows from all over the country ? You and
Cooper are the only men I want to see that I haven't seen. The
thing itself, the Convention, is as funny as possible. I have n't
been there myself for I have been sick, but I hear all about it, and
I hope you read your " Daily Churchman " before you go to bed.
They have done literally nothing. They did one piece of busi-
ness week before last, and cackled over it all about town like a hen
over her eggs. But the House of Bishops the next week sat down
on it and vetoed it, and so they have really and literally not one
thing to show. So they talk about the beautiful harmony that
prevails. . . . And they swell, O, how they swell ! And each
" swole " a little worse than the one before him, if it were pos-
sible, except Bishop Williams. He is an old jewel and talks like
a sensible man.
The admiration of Mr. Brooks for the late Bishop Wil-
liams of Connecticut was reciprocated. Thus Bishop
Williams, who now met him for the first time, writes to
him:
I am not speaking empty words, but true ones, when I say to
you, that for myself I rejoice in the meeting at Boston, espe-
jet. 4i-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 157
cially because it gave me the opportunity which I had long wished
for to see you. I have very deeply felt, and I think appreciated,
the great work you have done and are doing, and I pray God
may long be spared to do in Boston. And I have greatly wished
to take you by the hand and say something of what was in my
heart. I am very thankful for the opportunity.
In November he was present at the sessions of the Church
Congress in New York, and on his return he writes :
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, November 7, 1877.
Dear Arthur, I am glad to hear that my coming away did
no serious harm to the Congress. It seems to have gone on most
swimmingly to the end, and I am very glad I came and thank
you most truly for your kind welcome and hospitality. I was all
the better for it, and am now quite well. Isn't it good to have
these show occasions done with and settle down into the steady
pull of Parish Life. Last Sunday seemed a blessed relief.
There was nobody to be civil to in the Vestry Room, and you could
read the service yourself and preach the Gospel which had been
bottled up all the time. Now there is a clear field for the winter
and I don't mean to have anybody preach for me, except when
you come, before next year. ... I have father staying with
me for a day or two. He came down to vote and to attend the
Historical Society to-morrow. He seems capitally well and goes
out prowling around the town in his old fashion, as if Marlbor-
ough Street were quite as good a place as Hancock Street to
start from. The election does n't look well. 1 Massachusetts
has gone all right, but New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania,
seem to be all wrong. The policy is right, and I hope they will
stick to it. But it would be an awful thing to have the country
thrown into the hands of the starved Democrats two years hence.
But I suppose it is a case of "doing right though the heavens
fall," about as clear as we often see.
Have you read the new " Life of Sumner " ? I have finished one
volume of it and found it interesting. The wonderful reception
that he had in England and the sight of the boyhood of these men
who are either gone, or are old men now, are very attractive. Then
I have been reading Bowen's new book. 2 I had forgotten what a
queer, familiar, almost jocose style he has, but his expositions of
the systems of philosophy are certainly very clear, though one
doubts sometimes whether he has got to the bottom of them.
1 The election of Hayes for President when Tilden was the Democratic can-
didate.
2 History of Philosophy.
158 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
In December there was a visit to Philadelphia. His refer-
ences to it, as in this extract from a letter to McVickar, show
that his heart still turned to it with a yearning affection :
December 13, 1877.
Yes I am coming to Philadelphia, and am counting upon it im-
mensely. It will be the shortest visit possible, but then it will
be Philadelphia. As to preaching, you must speak to Charles D.
Cooper. Anything that you and he agree on I will do. Only
let 's not make too terrible a rush of it. Of course the pulpit of
Trinity is the dearest spot on earth to me, in other words, is
home.
The occasion which took him to Philadelphia was the tenth
anniversary of the consecration of the Church of the Holy
Apostles, of which Mr. Cooper was rector. When Mr. Cooper
invited him to come, he wrote at once : " Why, of course
I '11 come. Do you think I would let the friends of the Holy
Apostles gather and I not be there ? " The visit was to come
soon after his birthday. This letter to Miss Meredith of
Philadelphia strikes the usual keynote of the birthdays :
December 18, 1877.
Dear Miss Meredith, ... It seems as if everything out
of the old times were altered so and things whirl on so fast now,
sickness and health, trouble and pleasure chasing each other
quickly. The quiet, smooth, unbroken life is all gone. This is
not perhaps less happy, but " the time is short " seems to ring
out of everything. And then again the whole of things seems of
so much more consequence and the details of things of so much
less than they used to. I wonder if everybody gets to feel so.
I was forty-two last Thursday.
But I am coming on to Philadelphia next month, and shall at
least get in sight of the old times again. I am coming for the
tenth anniversary of the Holy Apostles! Mr. Cooper has sent for
me to revive the memory of the day when we begged the money
together. I shall have but a day in the good town, and am much
afraid that I shall see my friends only from the pulpit.
Mr. is a curious creature, not at all to be turned off in a
sentence; full of learning, with a strong dash of genius and half
crazy. One vision of him in a city where he is not known must
be amazing and bewildering.
A happy Christmas to you all, and may God bless you always.
Your sincere friend, Phillips Brooks.
mt. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 159
The work in his parish in the year 1878 went on as usual.
The Lenten services grew deeper in their interest and power.
His Wednesday evening lectures called out very large con-
gregations. His references to the season of Lent in his let-
ters must be interpreted as meaning that he put his whole
sold into the frequent services, hut did not care that any
one should know with what deep feeling and with what la-
borious study he prepared himself for the penitential season.
His epistolary references to it are in contrast with the note-
books, with the earnestness of his mood stamped upon every
page. He took up large subjects, in courses of addresses
which called for thorough and comprehensive study. In his
Sunday preaching the sermons followed each other on the
same high level. He did not write many letters, and these
inclined to brevity. He writes to Mr. Cooper, February 8,
1878 :
Weir Mitchell has been here curing all the dilapidated Bosto-
nians. His coming makes a great sensation, for he is a very famous
man. I felt as though I were a nerve doctor myself with all the
patients that swarmed about the house.
After him came Dr. Newton, the Rev. Richard Newton of
your town. He stayed with Willie, not with me, and seemed to
be overcome with indignation at his recreant brother. How he
does pitch into him !
So you see we have some excitement here. But on the whole
Boston is dull, and nothing but the endless round of Church work
keeps me from getting stagnant. I think I have never been
busier about that since I was in the ministry.
He asked the Proprietors of Trinity Church for permission
to hold free evening services during Lent, and the request
was granted unanimously without limit of time. On these
occasions the great church was filled. He made an exchange
with Rev. Arthur Brooks, at the Church of the Incarnation,
New York, on the Sunday after Easter, and then we hear
of him again in Philadelphia, where he has gone for the visit
to Mr. Cooper.
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, March 18, 1878.
Dear Arthur, . . . Yesterday was a queer day. In the
morning I got Sankey to come in and sing to our Sunday-school
i6o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
children. He made a little speech to them which was capital, as
simple and earnest and affectionate as possible, and then he sang
"Ninety and Nine " execrably. . . .
Lent is moving on quietly and seriously. Next Sunday is our
Confirmation Day, and then I shall be easier. I have never held
it quite so early before, and I look forward with much pleasure to
the weeks of Lent which will still remain after the anxiety of
Confirmation is over. Now every minute of every week is busy
as has been the case for these seventeen last springs. How alike
they all are, and yet one never gets tired of them. I hear all
sorts of questions about a new Church paper which is to grow up
in New York. Heber has written to Percy and to others about
it. I am afraid that you and I will die without seeing what we
want, and the last number of "The Churchman" will be dropped
into our graves. The "New Church Journal" I am afraid will
not be very interesting. The perpetual symposium business will
tire.
Have you ever seen Chauncey "Wright's "Life"? Did you know
him in Cambridge? It is very interesting, I think. His meta-
physics are pretty steep and his conclusions often pretty bad. . . .
The picture of a quiet, simple, thoughtful, unambitious Cambridge
life is rather nice. . . .
Well, after Lent we must have a meeting somehow. The time
and place will be given on small bills. I see as little now of
Father and Mother or of John as I do of you. I have n't been
to Andover since that tremendous Saturday morning when you
came down and I went up, and I have n't been to John's at all.
He was up at the Club in fine spirits and seemed to like the "In-
stitution," though he modestly held his peace at his first meet-
ing. . . .
He congratulates his brother on a proposed trip to Europe,
and speaks for the first time of Rev. Leighton Parks, who
has just come to Boston as Dr. Vinton's successor :
May 20, 1878.
I picture to myself the scene behind the smokestack of the
Bothnia when you and your fellow travellers sit around your
Bishop and he tells you what he means to do at the Pan. Don't
let your contempt for the whole affair prevent you from getting
just one sight of walking with the Archbishop of Canter-
bury. That surely would be a sight worth seeing. I am going
up to Andover to-day to see Father and Mother.
I find the great Church sensation here is Parks at Emmanuel.
jet. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 161
He is impressing people very much. Dr. Vinton heard him yes-
terday and says he is a remarkable fellow. I have not heard him,
but called on him the other day and found him bright, intelligent,
and modest, a real good fellow. He is a Broad Churchman
steeped in Maurice to the eyes.
He was taking an interest in little things, such as the fur-
nishing of his house, at a time when antique eolonial furniture
was the fashion.
To Mr. Cooper he writes :
May 25, 1878.
Here I am safe at home again with all the fun behind me and
full of gratefulness to you all for all your hospitality. Every-
thing was very delightful at the good old town, the Breakfasts,
and the Convention, and the talks, and the walks, and the general
smell and taste of good old times that was about the whole.
Boston is sadly different. I feel after I get back from one of
my visits to you as if I had only just moved here and were a
stranger in the streets.
The clock and the corner cupboard came safely and are both
up and running most satisfactorily. I know what time it is and
what day of the month and of the week and of the moon. If it
only gave the Golden Letter and the Dominical Number and the
First and Second Lessons I should feel entirely set up.
In June he was present at the centennial of Phillips
Academy, Andover, of which he writes to Arthur Brooks,
June 10, 1878 :
Yes, we did have a good time. I do not know when I have
seen a big display go off so well throughout, and we were a sort of
quiet centre to the whole thing, we Phillipses, around which it
all resolved. We had the glory and they had the work; and
that is always fun.
It was very pleasant, too, to have you and L here. It is
not often now that all four of us boys get together in one room
as we did here in my study the other night. So let us be proud
and happy for the way the whole thing was done, and hope for
another occasion soon. . . .
He went soon after this event to Phillips Academy, Exeter,
to deliver the address to the graduating class, then to Vir-
ginia, where he read an essay on " The Pulpit and Popular
Skepticism." Of this last visit he writes, July 9, 1878 :
vol. n
1 62 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
I went down into Virginia with Jim, We visited the old
Seminary where I read an Essay to the Alumni, and got quite
sentimental about old times. The old place seemed to be full of
life and turned out a good many parsons of the peculiar Virginia
kind which is n't a bad sort, though one would n't want a whole
church made up of them. Then we went down to the Virginia
Springs in the Blue Ridge, where we passed three very queer and
pleasant days, taking much sulphur both inside and out. Mean-
time the heat had grown to be something awful in those Northern
parts, but down where we were everything was as cool and delight-
ful as possible. On our way back we stopped and spent two days
with Willie McVickar, saw lots of Cooper, smoked many pipes,
and talked the whole Church over.
He took a house at Hingham for the summer, going to
Boston every Sunday to preach. Of the life at Hingham he
writes to Mr. Cooper :
August 3, 1878.
I never had such a profoundly quiet summer as I am having
now. I am here in a queer little cottage on an obscure back bay
of Boston Harbor, where there is nothing to do, or at least where
I do nothing, no sailing, no fishing, no riding, no walking.
Nothing in the world but plenty of books and time and tobacco.
Nobody to talk to or to talk to me. And I like it first-rate,
almost as well as Heiligenblut and Bad Gastein. But it is very
different.
The only thing I really do which I can put my finger on is to
prepare my volume of sermons which is coming out in September.
Every day some proof comes down which I have to correct and
send back. I doubt if they are worth publishing, and I have had
a hundred minds about going on or stopping them, but I am in for
it now, and will send you a copy when they come out. . . .
In his seclusion at Hingham, he wrote often to his brother
Arthur, in Europe, following his movements with the sym-
pathy of an old traveller :
August 16, 1878.
I am sure you will have a delightful summer, and we shall
follow you through it all with our good wishes. It is about the
pleasantest thing that people can do in this fallen world.
I don't think the Pan- Anglican troubled you much, and from
all accounts it won't trouble anybody a great deal. I don't hear
of anything said or done there which was of the slightest con-
sequence. And it gets to be very funny when in General Con-
jet. 41-43] EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS 163
ventions and Pan Synods and all sorts of Assemblies of Ecclesias-
tical people the one thing they can crow over when the meeting
breaks up is the "perfect harmony " of it all, as if it is a wonder
to sing a Te Deum over, if Churchmen come together without pull-
ing each other's wigs off and tearing each other's eyes out. . . .
No doubt you saw the little Dean, who is well I hope, but who
certainly must have seemed to you very much changed from when
we saw him in '74. . . . Have you seen Grant anywhere? The
prospect of making him our next President is taking shape and
soon will be a settled thing. All the European tour, with its
receptions and parade, has been deliberately planned for this.
Ben Butler is going to try to be Governor of Massachusetts this
fall, and that will keep things lively here. There has been a
blackguard named Kearney about here preaching low Irish Com-
munism, whom Butler has taken up, and made an ugly mess. But
what do you care for American politics when you are looking at
the Madonna di San Sisto. . . . You are very good to offer to do
anything for me. The picture which I saw was an etching from a
portrait of James Martineau, the portrait, I think, by Watts. I
saw it in Dr. Peabody's Study and liked it, and should like to
have it, but don't let it trouble you.
The dread of an impending sorrow was hanging over Mr.
Brooks through the summer in consequence of the illness of
his father, whose health was steadily declining. He invited
both his parents to Hingham, and they came, but, as the
change was not beneficial, they soon returned to Andover.
Nothing could exceed the thoughtfulness and tender devotion
which he showed in the now changed relationship, when
instead of the father watching over the son with anxious
affection, it was his privilege to care for both father and mo-
ther. He sent his friend Dr. Lyman to Andover, in the
hope that the best medical skill and experience might be of
some avail. He wrote every week to his brother abroad
giving an account of his father's condition. He wrote often
to his mother to encourage her ; he sent everything that his
ingenious thoughtfulness could devise which would cheer or
help the invalid in his weakness, who, although he continued
feeble, and evidently would never again be stronger, yet was
cheerful and happy on the whole, with only occasional moods
of discouragement.
1 64 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
The summer passed, and September brought an event of
the highest interest to Mr. Brooks as well as to people
throughout the country, the visit of Dean Stanley to Amer-
ica. No Englishman ever came whose presence called forth
more enthusiasm, nor did any one realize until he came how
deep and widespread was the feeling which prompted the
people out of pure gratitude to express their sense of indebt-
edness in every form which could do him honor. It was one
of the important days in the history of Trinity Church when,
on Sunday, the 22d of September, he stood in its pulpit,
and, with his keen perception of the romance of history and
the picturesque quality inhering in representative occasions,
treated the moment as a meeting of the East with the West.
The sermon which he preached was afterward printed, and
the manuscript given to Mr. Brooks, who preserved it among
the things that he valued. The visit to Boston came to an
end with a breakfast given to the Dean by Mr. Brooks, at
the Hotel Brunswick, when the clergy of Boston and vicinity
had the opportunity to hear his pathetic words before he left
the country.
A visit to Gambier, Ohio, which Mr. Brooks had projected
as a holiday after the summer's preaching, was prevented by
his father's illness. To the Rev. George A. Strong he
wrote :
175 Marlborough Street, Bostok, Saturday, October 5, 1878.
Dear George, My Father is very ill. He has been failing
for a long time, but there has seemed to be every probability that
it would go on slowly, and that the end was far away. But day
before yesterday there came a change which has left him so that
every day we are compelled to look for what may not come for
months. But I am afraid his death is very near. His mind is
failing rapidly, and every day seems to draw the veil a little closer
between us and any possible communication with him. I suppose
it is paralysis, though there has been no recognizable shock, only
a gradual benumbing of mind and body.
The year as it came to an end found him in the midst of
many occupations, of which the most laborious was the prepa-
ration of the Bohlen Lectures, to be given in Philadelphia.
But he found time for loving attentions to his father. The
jet. 41-43] DEATH OF HIS FATHER 165
thought of his father was uppermost in his mind, infusing
into his work a new consecration :
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, December 7, 1878.
Dear Arthur, ... I wish I was coming on to see you as
you so kindly ask me to do. We would walk and talk and look
at pictures, and I 'd smoke and perhaps we 'd go and see some of
the brethren. But it mustn't be. This is the time to work.
"Wednesday Evening services and Parish Visitings and Sunday
Sermons and Christmas Carollings, and all these things chase one
another too fast for one to get in a visit to New York between
them. So I 've written to the New England Society that I cannot
help them eat their dinner, and to the Christian Young Women
that I cannot associate with them. The Mexican League I
haven't heard from, but I should have to give them (or It) the
same sort of an answer.
I have just begun to write the Bohlen Lectures which are to
come off in Philadelphia some time before Ash Wednesday. They
are a fearful invasion of the legitimate and regular work of the
ministry, and the longer I am a Parson the less I think I like
special work, the more I like to keep down to the steady hum-
drum of the Parish Mill. . . .
I was at Andover last week. It happened to be rather a bad
day with Father and he was a little more blue and "helpless than
usual, but on the whole I think he remains about the same. Mo-
ther is well, and seems to keep up her spirits wonderfully. I feel
now as if Father very possibly might go through the winter about
as he is now, unless some sudden shock or cold should come.
P.
The experience which he had long been dreading, whose
import to himself he had been sounding in advance, came on
January 7, 1879. On the evening of the day of his father's
funeral, which took place at Trinity Church, he wrote to his
mother. Other letters that follow call for no comment.
They tell the story in its simple and natural pathos.
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, Thursday evening,
January 9, 1879.
Dear Mother, I am thinking about you so much to-night
that I must write you a little after all, though I said I should
not. Lizzie will have told you how simply and fitly everything
was done to-day, and it must surely be some satisfaction to us all
to know how everybody's heart is full of honor for dear Father.
1 66 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
His body was borne into the church by his old friends, Mr.
"Winthrop, Mr. Deane, Mr. Robert Mason, and Dr. George Ellis.
Dr. Vinton read the service with the deepest feeling. I have not
seen him except to get a pressure of the hand as we came out of
the church. He is staying at Mr. Snelling's where he will have
the best of care and will not suffer from his kind-hearted excur-
sion. At Mount Auburn everything was done just exactly as you
wished. As we left they were just going to strew the branches
on the grave. The two evergreen crosses hung above the graves
of George and Frederick, and the faithful custodian promised
that this new precious grave should have the most sacred care.
William and Arthur and John and James and I went out, and
Edward Brooks followed in a carriage by himself. Chardon
Brooks and Charles Francis Adams were in the pew directly
behind us. There were a multitude of other people in the church
whom I did not see.
All this is pleasant to all of us, but it is nothing beside the
thought of the new life which Father has begun, and which never
can be broken. When we remember his weakness and restlessness
a week ago, and then think of the perfect peace and joy and
knowledge that he is enjoying now, it is not so hard to bear it all
and even to be thankful. It was a noble, faithful, useful life
here, and now he is with Christ. It will not be long before we
are with him. Let us try to be brave and wait as he would want
us to do.
My dearest mother, you do not know how much you are to us,
nor "how we all long to have you rest upon us, and let us help and
comfort you and make you happy.
May God help us all to live as faithfully and die as peacefully
as dear Father has.
Your loving son, Phillips.
Boston, January 11, 1879.
Dear old Cooper, You are a good kind fellow to write to
me about Father and to speak of him so kindly. He was one of
the simplest, truest, healthiest, and happiest natures that God ever
made. All his life long was a perpetual delight in common
things and a quiet, faithful doing of the duties that some men
make a fuss about, as if they were the most natural things in the
world and everybody did them. His religion was as simple as all
the rest of his life, always flowing on serenely, as if to be a reli-
gious man and to love God and trust Him were not an exceptional
and hard thing, but as true a part of human life as breathing.
And at the last he grew simpler and sweeter as his strength faded
jet. 41-43] DEATH OF HIS FATHER 167
away, and died at last with calm dignity such as only a child or
a strong man can have. But we shall miss him dreadfully.
Life will never be again what it has been all these years with him
behind us. And poor mother wanders about looking for some
one to be anxious about and to take care of, and finding it a
dreadful pain that her last anxiety is over, and that she has only
to rest in peace till her happiness comes.
Yes, I shall come in February and lecture. The lectures are
poor enough for they were written in the midst of all this derange-
ment and distress, but I shall fulfil my engagement, and I shall
see lots of you, old fellow. I promised McVickar long ago to
stay with him on this official visit, but I shall see you all the
time, and I am counting on it more than ever now. My love to
Mrs. Cooper, and I am
Always yours, P. B.
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, January 18, 1879.
Oh, my dear George, how I wish I was in Gambier to-night and
sitting with you and M in front of your fire, and talking over
all these things which it is so unsatisfactory to write about.
First, I want to thank you for your last letter about Father. I
have been feeling all these last ten days as I know thousands of
men have felt before me when their fathers have died, but feel-
ing it just as freshly as if I were the first man that ever went
through it, and with the strong belief that no father ever was to
his boys just what ours has been to us. He was so bright and
happy and simple and strong through all the long years while our
lives revolved around his, and in these last years while he has
been failing and we have had the privilege that we could do
something for him, he has been so sweet and gentle and childlike
and so full of happiness in his constantly narrowing life. And
at last he lay down and died with the same quiet dignity with
which he had lived. There is nothing that is not good to remem-
ber. It was as healthy and true a life as ever was seen, and now
I miss him as I never dreamed that I could miss anybody, and it
will be so to the end, I know. You knew him a little. He always
felt that my friends were his friends, and so he always talked of
you as if he knew you well. I know that he would have been
glad to think that even so far away, and with so slight a recollec-
tion of him, you would care something for his death. And I
should have felt more cast adrift than I do now if I had not had
your words of sympathy. It sounds very stupid and cold to say
that I thank you, but I love you more than ever.
I am sorry for all the mishap about New Bedford. No mat-
168 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
ter ; perhaps something else may turn up soon and may be better
managed. I want you somewhere here, and somehow feel more
than ever now that, as our private circles grow thinner and thinner,
it would be good if we could each draw a little more together and
end our ministries, when the time for it must come, in something
of the same snug and pleasant group in which they began. All
we can do is to be upon the watch in case that any chance of such
a welcome thing turns up.
I am glad that you welcomed Casaubon. He was selected with
a little more discrimination than usual, for I had just been reading
his life myself, and had been charmed not so much with him as
with the Book. I hope that you will like it when you read it.
... I have been lame all winter with a queer weakness of the
knee, which the Doctor don't seem to understand. It probably
is rebelling at the amount it has to carry. But it is about well
now. Give my best love to M , and I am always,
Yours, P. B.
February 5, 1879.
Dear Paddock, A thousand thanks for your kind and
thoughtful letter. I have always felt as if you knew Father from
the memory of the old meeting twenty years ago at Alexandria,
and from knowing how you had met him occasionally here since
then. What you saw him at those times he always was, simple,
cordial, affectionate, and full of a desire that everybody should be
happy. Underneath this there was a quiet strength and integrity
and a true Christian faith, which made his presence one of the
healthiest atmospheres for a lot of boys to grow up in. And now
that he is gone I can thank God heartily for all that he was and
all that he is.
But it makes life a different thing. It makes the world seem
at first very empty. And it makes it all the more to seem not
sad when one looks forward to his own going. But meanwhile it
makes one cling all the more to old friends. And I am full of
gratitude that you should think of me. You are a true, kind
friend, and have been for these more than twenty years. God
bless you. Always yours, P. B.
Boston, February 11, 1879.
Dear Mother, I have hoped to come and have another
pleasant evening with you this week, before my departure for
Philadelphia, which comes next Monday. But one by one I have
had to strike off my evenings for engagements which I could not
escape, and now they are all gone and I must not hope to see you
jet. 41-43] DEATH OF HIS FATHER 169
until I get home again. I am very sorry, for I enjoy my little
runs to Andover better than anything that I do now, and two
weeks seems to be a long time to wait, but it will pass and I shall
come to you as soon as I possibly can after I get home. I hope
that you are all well and will keep so, for we are all thinking
about you all the time, and by and by we hope to have you with
us here in Boston, and in the scattered places where the Brooks
boys live. So take the best care of yourself for our sakes.
I send you the remarks of Mr. Winthrop about dear Father,
which he made at the Historical Society on the day of the Funeral.
By and by there will be a longer tribute in their published volume.
But I thought you would like to see this now. It is good to
know how he is valued. Almost every day some of his old friends
tell me of their respect for him, and of how he is missed in the old
places where he lived so long.
I send you also Dr. Stone's letter which I believe you have not
seen. It is just like him. Can you send me within a day or two
the name and full address of the minister at North Andover who
held the service at the house ? I should like to write to him
before I go away. ... A little letter from John about the visit
that I am going to make him in Lent to preach for him on the
13th of March. He is in the full tide of prosperity and happi-
ness. I shall not see either him or Arthur on my journey to
Philadelphia or on my way home, for I shall be hurried through
each way. But I shall try to visit both of them after Easter.
Perhaps you will go with me. I am awfully disappointed that I
cannot come up, but I must bear it. Give my love to Aunt Susan
and Aunt Caroline and Aunt Blossom.
Always affectionately, Phillips.
To this letter his mother replied :
North Andover, February 12, 1879.
My dear Phillips, Your kind and loving letter deserves
a letter in return, and miserable as it will be, I am going to
write you one. I sometimes think I '11 write and then thoughts
of Father come over me, and I am too sick at heart to attempt it.
But I want to write to you to-day, for I am overpowered with
all the marks of love you show me, and I want to tell you how
much I appreciate it. But oh, I feel so unworthy of it all that
it surprises me that you can care so much for me. Now you must
not say as you always do, "Oh, how humble you are," for I really
feel it all. Believe me, dear Phillips, I am as sorry as you are
that you can't come up this week, for I do enjoy your visits, but
I have not expected it, for I know you must be overpowered with
i 7 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
work all the time, and have no time to spare, for you are in your
busiest season now. But I shall dwell on the pleasure of your
promised visit after your return from Philadelphia.
I hope you will enjoy your little trip, and that it will rest your
mind and body, for both must need rest. Do enjoy all you can,
and sleep all you can, for I consider that sleep is our greatest
earthly blessing.
I thank you for sending me Mr. Winthrop's notice of dear
Father. I am glad his friends do him honor ; he deserves it all.
Also I thank you for Dr. Stone's letter; it is a comfort to me; he
was Father's first minister in the Episcopal Church, and he always
admired him.
I am very sorry to see by the paper the instant death of
Governor Gardner's son in Colorado, by a snow slide. How it
makes me think of our poor Frederick's sudden death! Do you
remember that Tuesday of this week was the anniversary of dear
George's death, sixteen years ago! How I long for them all.
But I thank God that he has spared me so many loving ones.
Now, dear Philly, please don't feel anxious about me while you
are gone. I am very well and very comfortably situated, near to
the Aunts' rooms, who are untiring in their kindness to me, night
and day, and when their time of trouble comes I hope I shall be
all ready to serve and comfort them.
I wish I could sew on some buttons or do something to help you
before you go. Be sure I shall think of you a great deal in your
absence; perhaps you will answer this letter while you are gone.
Good-by, and with many thanks for all your goodness and
tenderness to me, remember I am always your fond and loving
Mother.
Among the tributes to the memory of William Gray
Brooks was one from Dr. Vinton, who was moved as he re-
called the history of the family with which he had been closely
associated. He writes to Mrs. Brooks, at North Andover :
The solemn service to which I was called last week at Trinity
Church brought you to my mind with an affectionate sadness, and
awakened all the associations which began with my rectorship at
St. Paul's Church and have continued ever since with some of
your family. I recall your anxiety for Mr. Brooks's religious
state, and how God answered your prayers for him. I remember,
too, our many conversations about your children, and how again
your prayers were met by seeing them all turn to Christ, and I have
often thought that you ought to be the happiest of Mothers. . . .
jet. 41-43] DEATH OF HIS FATHER 171
At the first meeting of the Massachusetts Historical
Society held after the death of their colleague, words of
grateful appreciation were spoken in behalf of the society.
They are full of meaning, for they are describing qualities
which reappeared in the son, with only this difference, an
adventitious one, to which the son attached no importance,
that he had filled no exalted public station.
The president of the society, the Hon. Robert C. Win-
throp, said, in announcing the death :
I cannot fail to make the earliest mention of the loss which
comes nearest to us and to allude first to the death of our esteemed
and respected friend and associate, William Gray Brooks, Esq.,
a gentleman to whom we were all warmly attached, and whose
companionship and hearty cooperation in our work have been so
highly valued by us all. Indeed I may say that we have had but
few more attentive or more useful members during the seventeen
or eighteen years since he was elected. No one certainly has
taken a warmer interest in our welfare, or rendered us more sub-
stantial services. As repeatedly a member of our Standing Com-
mittee, and occasionally its Chairman, and especially as a leading
member of the committee to which our building was entrusted
during the process of its reconstruction, Mr. Brooks was ever
most diligent and devoted. I know not how we should have gone
through with that protracted and often perplexing process without
his practical wisdom and his faithful and untiring supervision.
Always prompt and punctual at our meetings, as long as his
health permitted him to attend them, he took also an intelligent
and eager interest in our historical proceedings, and from time to
time made important communications on genealogical or histori-
cal topics. Tracing back his ancestry to the famous minister of
old Boston and of new Boston, John Cotton, and immediately
connected with families which have given so many eminent men
both to the ministry and to the magistracy of New England, his
mind was naturally turned to inquiries and investigations which
might aid in the just commemoration of these local worthies, and
our records bear frequent evidence of his success.
The Rev. Robert C. Waterston added these discriminating
words :
He was gentle and unassuming, scrupulously true to the practi-
cal duties of life ; his courtesy of manner, generosity of heart,
and integrity of purpose won for him universal respect and love.
172 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-79
He seemed never to be troubled by that restless ambition which
desires to make itself prominent. Cheerfully he pursued the even
tenor of his way, satisfied with being a kind neighbor, an upright
citizen, a trustworthy and honorable man. His sound sense and
clear judgment gave value to his counsel. There was nothing
morbid in his nature, and no tendency to unreasonable impulse or
exaggeration. Calm and considerate, his words carried with them
a proportionate weight. Consistent in his actions, what he did
he was not obliged to undo. In his business he had no passion
for unlimited accumulation of wealth. A reasonable competency
satisfied his desire. He was generous ; but what he imparted he
sought to distribute so that it should result, as far as was possible,
in permanent good. In his charities he shrank from an appear-
ance of display. Whatever tended to promote the public wel-
fare found in him an earnest response; and, in carrying forward
plans of general enterprise, according to his means, he was ready
at all times to do his part.
But there was yet a higher tribute which the son was to
pay to his father, when in the human relationship he saw the
medium of the divine revelation. Such had been the earthly
father's life that to the son it bore witness to the nature of
and the evidence for the Fatherhood of God. In the year
before his father died, Phillips Brooks was speaking to the
students of the Yale Divinity School on the best method of
teaching religion, or the relationship between God and man
which constituted religion :
*& j
It is merely the completion, the transfiguration of that which
we can see in any healthy family. . . . For myself, every year
that I have preached, that sight, the child and the father in their
deepest relationship to one another, has grown an ever clearer
and richer revelation of the mystery of man and God. In it I
find the clearest exhibition of the highest and most comprehensive
thought of duty, which is loving obedience including in itself the
power and effect of education.
At the time of his father's death he was preparing his
Bohlen Lectures on " The Influence of Jesus." It was while
his bereavement was still fresh that he wrote these words, in
illustration of the central theme of his book, Jesus as
revealing the Fatherhood of God :
Beyond all analysis lies the relation whieh every true son holds
mt. 41-43] DEATH OF HIS FATHER 173
to a true father. It is a final fact. You cannot dissolve it in
any abstract theory. It issues from the mysterious sympathy of
the two lives, one of which gave birth to the other. It has rip-
ened and mellowed through all the rich intercourse of dependent
childhood and imitative youth and sympathetic manhood. It is
an eternal fact. Death cannot destroy it. The grown-up man
feels his father's life beating from beyond the grave, and is sure
that in his own eternity the child relation to that life will be in
some mysterious and perfect way resumed and glorified, that lie
will be something to that dear life and it to him forever. All
this remains. . . . The joy and pain, all the richness and pathos
of his home life, while they keep their freshness and peculiar
sanctity, have in them and below them all the multitudinous hap-
piness and sorrow of the larger life in the great household of the
world. The child feels something of this truth by instinct.
The thoughtful man delights to realize it more and more as he
grows older (pp. 184, 185).
CHAPTER VII
1877-1878
LECTURES ON PREACHING. FIRST VOLUME OF SERMONS.
THE TEACHING OF RELIGION. THE PULPIT AND POPU-
LAR SKEPTICISM
The narrative of the first ten years of the ministry of
Phillips Brooks in Boston, which has now been given, will
serve to confirm the impression of a change or difference when
compared with that of his ministry in Philadelphia. What,
we may ask, had become of that intense mysterious force,
evoked by the war, by which he rose even above the high level
of his work as a preacher ? What is there in these years that
corresponds with his wonderful power as a platform speaker
or public orator when he was advocating reforms whose neces-
sity stirred the lowest deeps of his soul ? That passionate
vehemence had not, like some transient flame, been extin-
guished, but transmuted into some other manifestation of
power. These years whose record has been traced are quiet
years compared with what went before or what came after-
wards, a time of silent preparation, of study, and of inward
ferment, of which but little evidence is apparent in his letters.
But, as has been so often remarked, the traces of his work are
concealed. We must then turn to his published writings,
which now began to multiply, wherein will be seen the man
in other aspects, in new phases of his personality. They will
show that he had been concentrating his mind on the study
of his age, and on the message which that strange and troubled
world was demanding.
It was in the early part of the year 1877, when the build-
ing committee of Trinity Church were making strenuous
efforts to hasten its completion, that Phillips Brooks went to
*t. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 175
New Haven to deliver his lectures on Preaching before
the students of the Yale Divinity School. It was a time of
unusual excitement for his parish and for himself when he
was writing the lectures, an excitement and enthusiasm
which culminated in their delivery. So deeply was he moved
that for some reason he could not bear to make the journeys
to New Haven alone, and took with him one of his relatives.
The event stirred him the more deeply because for the first time
he was unveiling his own personal experience, as he had felt
compelled to review it when he sought to explain the secret
and power which made the pulpit effective. The greatest
charm of the Yale Lectures, from a literary point of view, is
that they constitute the autobiography of Phillips Brooks,
the confessions of a great preacher. The book is personal
throughout ; he speaks often of himself freely in the first per-
son, and at other times veils the revelation. Always he is
giving the result of his own reflection and observation of life.
It is a book which owes nothing to predecessors in the same
field, of which there are many. He confines himself to preach-
ing as he had experienced its workings, or studied its method,
or observed its power. In this review of his life he went
back to his days at the Virginia seminary.
I can remember how, before I began to preach, every book I
read seemed to spring into a sermon. It seemed as if one could
read nothing without sitting down instantly and turning it into a
discourse. But as I began and went on preaching, the sermons
that came of special books became less and less satisfactory and
more and more rare. Some truth which one has long known,
stirred to peculiar activity by something that has happened or
by contact with some other mind, makes the best sermon
(p. 159).
He recalls how he had come very early to the conclusion
that what was desired in the ministry, as the condition of
effective preaching, was the combination of learning and in-
tellectual force with the capacity for devout and deep and
intense feeling. " In many respects an ignorant clergy, how-
ever pious it may be, is worse than none at all " (p. 45).
He was wont to say that he had not worked as hard as he
176 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
should have done in college, but he did not make this admis-
sion regarding his time in the theological seminary.
Most men begin really to study when they enter on the prepa-
ration for their profession. Men whose college life, with its gen-
eral culture, has been very idle, begin to work when, at the door
of the professional school, the work of their life comes before
them. It is the way in which a bird who has been whirling
vaguely hither and thither sees at last its home in the distance
and flies toward it like an arrow (p. 43).
He speaks of the first sermon which he preached, " which
it was at once such a terror and such a joy to preach." As
he compares the earlier with the later sermons, he finds sen-
tences written years ago, containing meanings and views of
truth which he perceives in them now, but had not seen in those
early days. The truth was there, but he had not fully appro-
priated it. It has been shown that he had no taste or capac-
ity for mere abstract ideas apart from their concrete rela-
tionships. So far as he studied philosophies, metaphysical
systems or their history, it was to catch their bearing on the
practical issues of life. Ideas moved him as they did because
and only in so far as he could trace this connection.
The disposition to watch ideas in their working, and to talk
about their relations and their influence on one another, simply
as problems in which the mind may find pleasure without an
entrance of the soul into the ideas themselves, this, which is the
critical tendency, invades the pulpit, and the result is an immense
amount of preaching which must be called preaching about Christ
as distinct from preaching Christ. There are many preachers
who seem to do nothing else; always discussing Christianity as a
problem, instead of announcing Christianity as a message and
proclaiming Christ as a Saviour. . . . It is good to be a Herschel
who describes the sun; but it is better to be a Prometheus who
brings the sun's fire to the earth (p. 20).
Here is a passage which is the climax of self -revelation.
He veils himself, it is true, to a certain extent, and puts what
he has to say in impersonal form, but the description corre-
sponds to no one but himself :
There is something beautiful to me in the way in which the
utterance of the best part of a man's own life, its essence, its
asT. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 177
result, which the pulpit makes possible and even tempts, is wel-
comed by many men, who seem to find all other utterance of
themselves impossible. I have known shy, reserved men who,
standing in their pulpits, have drawn back before a thousand eyes
veils that were sacredly closed when only one friend's eyes could
see. You might talk with them a hundred times, and you would
not learn so much of what they were as if you once heard them
preach. It was partly the impersonality of the great congrega-
tion. Humanity, without the offence of individuality, stood
there before them. It was no violation of their loyalty to them-
selves to tell their secret to mankind. It was a man who silenced
them. But also, besides this, it was, I think, that the sight of
many waiting faces set free in them a new, clear knowledge of
what their truth, or secret was, unsnarled it from the petty cir-
cumstances into which it had been entangled, called it first into
clear consciousness, and then tempted it into utterance with an
authority which they did not recognize in an individual curiosity
demanding the details of their life. Our race, represented in a
great assembly, has more authority and more beguilement for
many of us than a single man, however near he may be. And he
who is silent before the interviewer, pours out the very depth of
his soul to the great multitude. He will not print his diary for
the world to read, but he will tell his fellow men what Christ may
be to them, so that they shall see, as God sees, what Christ has
been to him (pp. 121, 122).
The " Lectures on Preaching " possess a further literary
charm because they connect the pulpit with life, and with the
highest, richest manifestations of life. The book took its
place as an important contribution to literature, apart from
its value as a treatise on homiletics. It abounds with literary
allusions and illustrations new and effective, showing at once
the scholar and the man widely read in the world's best books.
The work that he had done in the Virginia seminary, as
seen in the note-books that he had kept, is constantly re-
appearing. The movement is rapid ; there is no lingering by
the way ; every page is full of condensed purpose. There is
nothing artificial, no posing for effect; but plainness and
great directness of speech, perfect naturalness and simplicity.
The book captivates the reader, simply for this reason alone,
the transparency of the soul of its writer, between whom
and the reader there intervenes no barrier. And further it
vol. n
178 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
is redolent with happiness and hope for the world, as if
at last the new day had dawned for humanity, and mankind
might enter on its heritage, long promised and seen from
afar, but now ready to be ushered in. It set the standard
high, yet it did not discourage ; it rather stimulated, begetting
an enthusiasm which overrode all obstacles. It abounded in
sentences which linger in the mind, the perfection of expres-
sion in words.
There must be a man behind every sermon.
The intercourse with God in history.
The intelligent speculations of the learned become the vague
prejudices of the vulgar.
The real power of your oratory must be your own intelligent
delight in what you are doing.
You grow so familiar with the theory of repentance that it is
hard for you to know that you have not yourself repented.
If you could make all men think alike, it would be very much
as if no man thought at all, as when the whole earth moves to-
gether all things seem still.
To be dead in earnest is to be eloquent.
The personal interest of the preacher is the buoyant air that
fills the mass and lifts it.
The sermon is truth and man together. It is the truth brought
through the man.
The temptation from being messengers to be witnesses of the
faith.
Say nothing which you do not believe to be true, because you
think it may be helpful. Keep back nothing which you know to
be true because you think it may be harmful.
This value of the human soul is something more than a mere
sense of the soul's danger. It is a deliberate estimate set upon
man's spiritual nature in view of its possibilities.
Never allow yourself to feel equal to your work. If you ever
find that spirit growing on you, try to preach on your most exact-
ing theme, to show yourself how unequal to it you are.
Pray for and work for fulness of life above everything; full
red blood in the body ; full honesty and truth in the mind ; and
the fulness of a grateful love for the Saviour in your heart.
Success is always sure to bring humility. " Recognition, " said
Hawthorne, "makes a man very modest."
In addition to their literary merit, or their value as the con-
fessions of a soul speaking to men but always speaking before
jet. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 179
God, the " Lectures on Preaching " have another significance
in the assertion of theological or religious principles never
quite so emphatically uttered before. The leading idea is that
truth and moral efficiency in the will are contagious, and pass
from man to man through the medium of personality. Per-
sonality is defined as a conscious relationship to God, which
through the spirit of obedience to the divine will unfolds and
expands all human powers and brings out the revelation
of man. The subject had been before his mind from the
moment he turned his thought to the ministry. He had asked
himself at once the leading question, how the power which
existed in abundance was to be brought to bear upon the will
so as to issue in conduct. So early as 1862, in an address
before the Evangelical Educational Society, he gave the an-
swer, training for the ministry meant the development of
personal power, which as an agency for moral regeneration
was mightier than any other, as bringing the power of God to
bear directly on human souls. He took up the same subject
when he went to Providence in 1865, to give the Phi Beta
Kappa Oration at Brown University. His subject was " The
Personality of the Scholar." On both these occasions we
know from contemporary testimony that he was listened to
with absorbing attention, and the atmosphere was full of
the magnetism of his presence as he expounded his vision,
that all which the minister or the scholar knows or loves must
go out with him into all his life. If personal character were
thus sought for the service of humanity, then the world would
be uplifted to a higher plane, and belief in human progress
would rest upon sure foundations, for it would be nothing else
than belief in God. With this same message he had gone to
the dedication of the Bradford Academy in 1870, and to the
students of the Andover Theological Seminary in 1874. What
he said was received as new truth, so vividly did he feel his
force and urge it with such effect upon those who listened.
His eloquence was at the highest point when he touched
upon this theme. Thus his motive had for years been slowly
accumulating in momentum when he went to Yale in 1877,
to deliver his lectures on Preaching.
180 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
How far was his doctrine new ? Can it be called the con-
tribution of some important discovery to the cause of religious
progress ? In one sense the issue was as old as the history of
the Christian church. It was what the Roman mind was
thinking of when it devised the theory of apostolic succes-
sion, that power was handed down in the church by verbal
commission from apostles to their successors. It came up
again when the question was broached whether purity of
character was an indispensable requisite in administering the
sacred rites, or whether the power which had been imparted
in ordination was sufficient for their validity. It haunted
the Middle Ages as a disturbing theory at a time when it
was the prevailing opinion that the power given in ordination
was sufficient whatever the character of the officiating priest.
It was the issue which underlay the rise of the papacy, that
disobedience to the papal will was a moral defect which viti-
ated ecclesiastical acts. When the spiritual enthusiasm of the
first age of the Protestant Reformation was declining the old
issue turned up again in new form, whether it were neces-
sary that a preacher should have felt the power of the truth
he proclaimed in order to make it effective by his preaching.
It constituted the weakness of the eighteenth century, the
tacit assumption that character had little connection with
the work of a Christian preacher. It was characteristic of
the Evangelical Awakening that it called for conversion in
those who should minister to the salvation of others. But
in the homiletic method of the time, the conversion of the
preacher was mainly important as securing the presentation
from the pulpit of the pure gospel, thus constituting an occa-
sion of which God might avail himself in acting on the souls
of the hearers.
When we review the history of this issue with which Phil-
lips Brooks was now concerned, it is evident that he had
penetrated directly to the heart of the difficulty which had
beset the ages. His book on Preaching would not have been
the event it was for arousing a new life in the churches if it
had not been that he placed his finger upon the sensitive spot
in the body ecclesiastic, and pointed out the remedy. No
zet. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 181
such utterance bad been beard before because tbe principle
be now asserted was placed in tbe foreground of tbe long
perspective and given tbe emphasis its importance demanded.
Others may have said it before, many bad illustrated it in
living ways, but it was left to him to give it the final expres-
sion. He struck the dominant note in bis first lecture, which
sounded throughout the course :
Preaching is the communication of truth by man to men. It
has two essential elements, truth and personality. . . . Preach-
ing is the bringing of truth through personality. . . . Jesua
chose this method of extending the knowledge of himself through
the world. However the gospel may he capable of statement in
dogmatic form, its truest statement is not in dogma but in a per-
sonal life. Christianity is Christ. A truth which is of such
peculiar character that a person can stand forth and say of it, "I
am the truth, " must always be best conveyed through personality.
"As My Father has sent me into the world, even so have I sent
you into the world." It was the continuation out to the minutest
ramifications of the new system of influence, of that personal
method which the incarnation itself had solved. Nothing can
ever take the place of preaching because of the personal element
that is in it (p. 7).
In the assertion of this principle that truth in order to its
effective presentation must come through personality, Phillips
Brooks was planting himself upon a psychological motive,
whose latent working had been manifest in history. Nothing
could take the place of preaching because of the personal
element in it ; no multiplication of books could ever supersede
the human voice ; no newly opened channel of approach to
man's mind and heart could do away with man's readiness to
receive impressions through his fellow man. " It is strange
how men will gather to listen to the true preacher. It is
to-day as it was in past ages, when Chrj r sostom preached at
Constantinople, or Bishop Latimer at St. Paul's Cross in Lon-
don." But this principle had even a wider and more signifi-
cant application. It was related to the movements of reli-
gious life and thought in tbe nineteenth century. It met
that instinct which, amid the confusions of tbe time, or what
182 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
seemed the shifting foundations of religious belief, called out
for a return to " historic Christianity."
This conception of preaching puts us into right relations with
all historic Christianity. The message can never be told as if we
were the first to tell it. It is the same message which the church
has told in all the ages. He who tells it to-day is backed by all
the multitude who have told it in the past. He is companied
by those who are telling it now.
The message is his witness, but a part of the assurance with which
he has received it comes from the fact of its being the identical
message which has come down from the beginning. Men find on
both sides how difficult it is to preserve the true poise and pro-
portion between the corporate and the individual conceptions of
the Christian life. But all will own to-day the need of both.
The identity of the Church in all times consists in the identity of
the message which she has always had to carry from the Lord to
man. All outward utterances of the perpetual identity of the
Church are valuable only as they assert this real identity. This
is the real meaning of the perpetuation of old ceremonies, the use
of ancient liturgies, the clinging to what seem to be apostolic
types of government (p. 18).
And again, this principle that truth must come through
personality, through the man who has himself been moved
and conquered by the truth, was urged as specially needed in
a New England community, or wherever the later develop-
ment of Calvinism, as by Hopkins and Emmons, had para-
lyzed the pulpit as well as the hearer. That man must wait
till God chose to act in the process of conversion, that the
preacher might give a message, but bore in himself no con-
tagious witness to the truth, this fatal assumption had
acted like a subtle poison in every New England community.
It had made religion something exceptional in its working,
out of harmony with natural laws, something unreal also, and
intangible, without relation to real life, and therefore tending
to vanish away. Against this tendency, which he had recog-
nized in his own experience and observation, Phillips Brooks
made most effective opposition. He brought religion down
from the clouds to an actual reality, communicated from man
to man, not only in the pulpit, but in the daily course of life.
The religion of Christ had been first implanted as a leaven
/et. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 183
in humanity by the personality of its founder, and from that
time had never been without its witnesses, the children of
God in every generation.
We get here some explanation of Phillips Brooks's power
as a preacher, and of the comprehensiveness of his appeal.
He satisfied the High Anglican in his own communion as well
as the descendant of the Puritans. He did justice alike to
the human and the divine aspects of religion, as coming
through man, but coming also from God, who worked in and
through the human personality. Thus was solved the pro-
blem of the schools which had given rise to controversy and
inward perturbation and distress, whether the will of man
was free, and he were able in and by himself to accomplish
the work of his salvation, or whether that work were solely
of God, and man was so much helpless material in His hands
to be galvanized into life.
Upon this point he was emphatic and uncompromising,
the absolute necessity of character in the preacher, the im-
portance of impressing his audience with the conviction that
he possessed the character which comes from association with
Christ. " Personal piety is the deep possession in one's own
soul of the faith and hope and resolution which are to be offered
to one's fellow men for their new life." "Nothing but fire
kindles fire." He wishes that he could find words, new and
overwhelming, with which to enforce his conviction that to
live in Christ and to be His, and not our own, makes preach-
ing a perpetual privilege and joy. He cannot believe that
any one will find it hard to talk about these things for two
half hours every week who lives with God, whose delight it
is to study God's word, in the Bible, in the world, in history,
in human nature.
From this point of view he considers the pulpit problem of
preaching old sermons, and of the relative merit of extempo-
raneous and written discourse. No one complained when he
preached old sermons, but the criticism often was that the old
were better.
I think that every earnest preacher is often more excited as he
writes, kindles more then with the glow of sending truth to men,
1 84 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
than he ever does in speaking; and the wonderful thing is, that
that fire, if it is really present in the sermon when it is written,
stays there, and breaks out into flame again, when the delivery
of the sermon comes. The enthusiasm is stowed away and is
kept. ... As you preach old sermons, I think you can always
tell, even if the history of them is forgotten, which of them you
wrote enthusiastically with the people vividly before you. The
fire is in them still (p. 173).
He objected to quotations in a sermon, whether of poetry or
prose, because they weakened the power of personality. He
thought that there was such a thing as the gift for preaching,
capable of cultivation, to some extent an innate power in every
man, it might be called also enthusiasm, or eloquence, or
magnetism. Whether or no it existed in all, or could be
cultivated, he defined it, and in defining it described him-
self, the quality that kindles at the sight of men, the keen
joy at the meeting of truth and the human mind, the power
by which a man loses himself and becomes but the sympa-
thetic atmosphere between the truth on one side of him and
the man on the other side of him. It was the possession of
this gift of kindling at the sight of men which enabled him
to write the last chapter of his book, where his eloquence
culminates as he describes " the value of the human soul."
He attached the highest importance to his exposition of this
point. To a friend who once spoke to him of his lectures on
Preaching, saying that the last lecture was the most signifi-
cant, he replied that out of all the comment made on his
book, this was the first time it had been mentioned ; that he
wrote for the sake of enforcing this truth ; that in the love
and the reverence for human souls lay the deepest secret of
power in the ministry. The doctrine of the value of the hu-
man soul was not new. It had been one of the stock expres-
sions of the Evangelical school that the Christian minister
must be possessed with " the love of souls." He heard it at
St. Paul's Church in Boston and at the Virginia seminary.
But he inherited it in his blood, from a father who had an
untiring interest in all that was human and personal, from
a mother whose heart went quickly out to every one with
iET. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 185
whom she came in contact, where there was the possibility
of exerting a moral influence. It was this motive which
attracted him to teaching as a profession, because in it the
contact of soul with soul was more intimate and powerful
than in any other relationship. The culminative force of all
his generations was behind him, till it burst forth in him in
complete and unprecedented expression. He loved places
and things, he loved nature, but above all he loved humanity.
It was this gift which made his heart leap up when he beheld
the waiting congregation. No one can forget the look that
he gave when he had ascended the pulpit, as if to draw in
the inspiration for the effect that was to follow before he
bent himself with the fervor and tumult of his powerful soul
to the communication of his message.
We shall see that this power of valuing the human soul,
this reverence for man as such, increased in such proportion
in his later years as almost to defeat the purpose of the great
preacher, creating a multiplicity of demands upon his time
to which he was no longer equal. But for many years he
held himself in restraint, till the work he had been given to
do was accomplished. This lecture, therefore, on the value
of the human soul is in some ways more characteristic of
Phillips Brooks than anything else he has written. To this
result everything in his reading, his study, his experience,
contributed. From being a conviction, it grew into a pas-
sion. He was full of reverence for those whom he met. He
grew in humility as his reverence for others increased.
There was stamped upon his manner a lofty yet tender cour-
tesy. The traditional bearing of the clergy, distant and
conscious of their own importance, wherein might be read
the impression of constant deference or adulation, all this
was totally foreign to him.
The " Lectures on Preaching " constitute an event in the
history of the pidpit. No similar treatise ever met with such
a reception. It became at once a manual for the clergy
and for theological students. Some books are so thoroughly
done that they pass at once into the life of a people, to reap-
pear again in many ways. This book has iufluenced the
1 86 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
whole mass of Christian sentiment in America, leaping the
bounds of denominationalism. It carried with it hope and
vitality, inspiration and enthusiasm, the expansion of life and
of religion. " It is the best word about preaching that has
been uttered," was one of the comments upon it, " and its
wise sayings deserve to pass into proverbs of the profession."
" I can hardly tell you," writes a Western bishop, " how de-
lighted, charmed, and helped I have been in its perusal."
An eminent Unitarian divine bore witness : " It seems to me
that it will make ministers from serious young men now try-
ing the shifts of the meaner crafts and not entering the min-
istry because of the glamour and unreality about it. This
unreality your book will certainly remove." One who heard
the lectures, a professor of homiletics, wrote, " They read bet-
ter than they sounded when delivered, which is saying a great
deal, and we rejoice in the wide sale the volume is having
and the expressions of satisfaction with it which we hear on
every side." Another bishop in the Episcopal Church
thanked him for the blessing the book had brought him, " It
has met certain wants and touched experiences which seem
hidden from every one but God." A distinguished professor
of Sacred Rhetoric in a Congregational seminary wrote,
" You do not need words of commendation from me, but I
gratify myself more than you in telling you how helpful the
book is to me in my work, every page of it. My pupils are
all reading it with great avidity." An eminent historical
scholar, who listened to the lectures and knew of their recep-
tion, says, " I have never heard of a lisp of dissent from the
judgment of those who heard them with admiration and de-
light." " The charm of your book," writes an Episcopal clergy-
man, himself known as a pulpit orator, " is that it makes us all
forget you and leads our thoughts up to the Lord, who gives
the words and makes great the company of the preachers."
A Harvard professor speaks of it as " the very word that I
want to carry to the many students in the College and the
Divinity School who turn to me with their plans and their
hesitations." A Baptist clergyman wishes him to know of
" what he is doing for a multitude of the Baptist ministers of
jet, 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 187
the generations coming." From a Presbyterian theological
seminary in the South came this tribute :
My mind sprang to the truths contained therein as if there had
been an affinity between the two. My crude notions found ade-
quate expression and a fuller and wider development than I had
imagined possible. So that while sadly conscious of my failure
to attain or even realize the high standard you set up, I rejoice
in more definite and vivid conception of my work. The lofty
ground on which through the entire course you tread fills me
with new hope, new joy, and imparts a very inspiration at the
thought of the holy work before me. ... I gladly confess my
obligation to you for instructions which will color my future min-
istry and to the operation of which any good I may accomplish
will be largely due.
Dr. Stone, of the Episcopal Theological School in Cam-
bridge, instead of writing to Mr. Brooks himself, wrote to
his mother, whose way he had guided into the Episcopal
Church :
I have just finished the reading of Phillips's "Lectures on
Preaching, " and I wish you to join me in giving God thanks for
such a book and for such a writer. His Lectures must have been
a great blessing to those who heard them, and they must be a
great blessing to all who read them, specially to all young preach-
ers who read them. And if it were in my power I would put
them in the hands of every young preacher in the land. They
could find no better human helper in the great work before them.
The following estimate is by the Rev. H. C. Badger of
New Haven :
I believe neither the English language nor any other has any-
thing worthy to stand beside them, treating such a theme,
judging the wide reading, the wit, the wisdom, the mental grasp
of the problem, the keenness of the analysis, the profoundness of
the insight, or the perfect comprehension of the problems of our
day. . . . That book I would lay beside the Bible of every
young minister to-day. I would have every preacher read it
every year as long as he lives.
These testimonies, which might be greatly multiplied, are
sufficient to show that Phillips Brooks had made another
conquest of theological students and theological seminaries
1 88 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
throughout the land. He had set the standard of preaching
for his age.
Phillips Brooks had been preaching for nearly twenty
years before he gave to the world a volume of his sermons.
He had been tempted, in 1863, only four years after his ordi-
nation, to prepare a volume for the press, and had withdrawn
it when half printed. From that time he had resisted the
pressure to publish, and when he finally yielded it was with
reluctance. The first volume of his sermons, which appeared
in 1878, met with an extraordinary reception, attaining a sale
of twenty-five thousand. They were welcomed as literature,
as a new poem or as the newest book. But they were also
received as a special religious message in an age of trial and
doubt and weakness. The reception accorded by the press
in public criticism was favorable, often eulogistic in the high-
est degree, with hardly a dissenting voice. One curious
expression of dissent was given in an English newspaper,
where his sermons were compared among others with Bishop
Butler's, and to Butler was awarded the superiority. Others
compared him with Robertson of Brighton, giving them equal
honor. "We have seen how he was regarded by those who
heard him preach, in the many reports which were constantly
appearing in the newspapers. How he was now regarded
when he was put to the test of the printed book, where the
competent judge could weigh his words, is shown in a criti-
cism that may be taken as representative :
Unlike Robertson, Phillips Brooks constantly reminds us of
him. He has the same analytical power; the same broad human
sympathy; the same keen knowledge of human nature, toned and
tempered and made more true by his sympathies ; the same mys-
terious and indefinable element of divine life, so that his message
comes with a quasi authority, wholly unecclesiastical, purely per-
sonal; and the same undertone of sadness, the same touch of
pathos, speaking low as a man who is saddened by his own seem-
ing success.
The " Lectures on Preaching " had brought to Mr. Brooks
many letters, calculated to flatter the vanity of an author, if
jet. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 189
it had been in him to be ministered to by flattery. But
this volume of sermons was followed by a flood of letters,
which did not speak so much of his eloquence or intellectual
gifts as of the good he was doing for human souls. We are
listening in them to the secrets, as it were, of a confessional,
where people are pouring into his ear their sorrows, and are
telling him of the relief he has given. What the public
press said of his sermons was one thing, what the people were
saying to him was another. From every part of the country
the letters came, from those who had never heard or seen
him, as well as from those who found a special pleasure in
associating his voice and presence with the reading of the
printed page.
The principle which had guided the author, in selecting
twenty sermons for publication out of some six hundred he
had written, it would be difficult to tell. It was no easy task
to make the selection, and we know that it was made with
scrupulous care. What strikes the reader as he glances over
the titles of the sermons is the large proportion assigned to
topics of comfort and consolation. The volume opens with
a sermon on " The Purpose and Use of Comfort ; " other
titles are, " The Withheld Completions of Life," " The Soul's
Refuge in God," " The Consolations of God." One other
sermon similar in tone is from the text, " Brethren, the time
is short." There seems something incongruous between the
prevailing tone of the sermons and the man who, as we have
seen him in his letters, or as he appeared in his familiar con-
versation, abounded in humor, in mirth and vitality, as if he
had known neither trouble nor sorrow. One of the letters he
received was from a person who had found consolation by the
reading of the sermons, and who goes on to speak of the
trials he had gone through, and the depths to which he had
descended :
What I wished to say is this, that I found in your first two
sermons that which touched and threw new licrht or better light
upon the crucial points of my experience and trial ; for instance,
when you argue the fact and why God sometimes withholds evi-
dence for a few years. It did me good as a medicine, but I
i 9 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
asked, " How did toy brother find this out ? " "With a great sum
obtained I this freedom." Are you freeborn, or have you passed
all through that way that even He trod, made perfect through
suffering? . . . Not since Robertson's beautiful sermons has
anything found me, and found me in such deep places (as Coleridge
said of the Bible), as your sermons.
The question which this unknown correspondent put to
him was also put by many others. But he generally turned
it off with the remark that it was possible to enter into these
things by the imagination. However it may be, he had made
a study, a scientific study, if it may be so called, of the art of
consolation. In his large parishes, as well as in the outer
world, he was constantly confronted with the problem of sor-
row and suffering. His own personality attracted as by a
magnet those who were in trouble. He suffered with them
through the immeasurable tenderness of his own soul and his
vast outflow of sympathy. What the meaning of it all might
be, in a world which was beautiful, which God had created
and loved, was the problem that haunted him. He did not
undertake to solve it by any dogmatic principle. He waited
for the growing light. But of one thing he was sure, that the
only consolation was in God.
It was characteristic of the letters that came to him that,
taking them together, not one sermon in the volume but was
mentioned by some one as having met some special need, or
brought inspiration or joy or courage. One of the writers
speaks of the sermon on the " Trinity " as having " broken
down all misgivings, so that I can now say I believe in God the
Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost." That is
one of the finest sermons in the volume, showing the capacity
of insight into theological distinctions, a sermon such as
would have delighted the heart of Athanasius. The sermon
on " The Symbol and the Reality," which had charmed Dean
Stanley, when he heard it at Westminster Abbey, appears to
have been a general favorite. It placed a common principle
beneath the symbols of religion and the symbols of common
life. The sermon on "Humility" seemed to reveal a new
cultus for the highest of Christian virtues, " It came upon
mt. 41-42] LECTURES ON PREACHING 191
me like a flood of light," wrote a venerable divine in whoso
character humility was the crowning attribute. The sermon
on the " Positiveness of the Divine Life " brought out anew,
and with the preacher's own peculiar force, the truth which
Chalmers announced and Dr. Bushnell had reiterated, " the
expulsive power of a new affection." The sermon for All
Saints' Day is the only one chosen for publication out of his
Philadelphia preaching, the rest of the sermons belonging to
the years from 1873 to 1878. But though one of his earliest,
this sermon for All Saints' Day is perhaps the most beautiful
of all. It gives the modern conception of sainthood as com-
pared with the Catholic or mediaeval ideal.
Saints, as we often think of them, are feeble, nerveless crea-
tures, silly and effeminate, the mere soft padding of the uni-
verse. I would present true sainthood to you as the strong chain
of God's presence in humanity running down through all history.
. . . That is the true apostolical saintly succession, the tactual
succession of heart touching heart with fire. . . . These saints
who help us on our way were incorporations not of the power, nor
of the truth, but of the spirit and the character of God.
A few testimonies may be given in the words of their
writers, for they are living touches in the portraiture of
Phillips Brooks. They may stand for the conviction of
thousands of others in the church universal which he was
then addressing. They come from young and old, from men
and from women, from clergymen and from laymen, from
all the walks of life :
I am sure you will rejoice to hear how my life has been made
richer and fuller through your aid, and my poor blurred sight of
men as trees walking exchanged for clear outlines and effulgent
day.
You are speaking to men as no one else can.
No book save the Bible gives me so much strength and holy
ambition.
I covet your method of presenting the truth of the Gospel more
than that of any man living.
The volume has become my vade mecum. Your sermons are
the highest interpretations of Christian philosophy ever uttered
from an American pulpit.
x 9 2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
You seem to me a person who understands human nature through
a close study of yourself, having thoroughly tested all natural and
acquired tendencies and resistances, and with sympathetic tender-
ness can tell others how to live and be victorious.
They have helped me in a great and almost nameless trial
through which I am now passing. Do you know there are trials,
compared with which even that of a lifetime of bodily pain and
prostration seems almost trivial ? I cannot understand how you,
who have perfect health and happiness, can know so much about
the condition of those who have neither.
To young ministers of all our tribes they are invaluable. I
suppose that scarcely a man among our students will fail to read
them, and all who can will own them. To me they are a refresh-
ment for the cheer they give in the assurance that the pulpit is
not waning.
Among the sermons in this volume is one entitled " The
Present and the Future Faith," from the text, " When the
Son of Man cometh, shall he find faith on the Earth ? " which
has an historical value. When the future historian of reli-
gious thought turns back to the nineteenth century he will
find that religious faith and hope reached their lowest point
at this moment, and were then at their furthest ebb. It is
this circumstance which may explain in part the predomi-
nance of religious comfort and consolation which prevails in
the volume. The sermon above mentioned was preached on
Thanksgiving Day, in 1874, when the hall of the Institute of
Technology was filled with an audience that listened in intense
silence, for the preacher had gathered himself up for a repre-
sentative utterance. He describes the religious situation from
within with deep sympathy and the tenderest pathos. There
is no complaint or condemnation for any agency which may
be responsible for the dark eclipse through which the church
is passing. He refers to it as existing, but as sure to disap-
pear. He offers no panacea to cure the evil ; it has gone too
deep for any special remedy. When Tennyson had been
writing in the fifties there was a battle waging for intel-
lectual freedom, for escape from the limitations and crude
interpretation of a traditional theology. The battle was over,
the freedom had been gained, but with it had come sadness
jet. 41-42] THE TRIAL OF FAITH 193
and uncertainty, the misery of religious doubt. The freedom
seemed to be of no avail, the " larger truth " did not follow
in its wake. It was the moment which Matthew Arnold has
described in his poems, in " Obermann Once More," or the
lines on "Dover Beach," "the wandering between two
worlds, one dead, the other powerless to be born." This wa3
the preamble of the sermon :
I should like to say a few words upon the religious conditions
with which we are all more or less familiar. I am led to think
and to speak of the disturbed condition of faith in our time. No
subject is more pressing. Even the most careless man's thoughts
rest very much upon it. It is discussed and talked of every-
where.
He proposes to trace some of the forces which have pro-
duced the disaster. It is owing chiefly to the wonderful
increase of men's knowledge of second causes, which inter-
feres with or overclouds their belief in first causes, in provi-
dences, in a personal and loving care, which is back of every-
thing. There is some truth in the statement that ages of
ignorance are ages of faith, in the common saying that much
knowledge and elaborate life are dangerous to faith in final
principles and forces. It is a magnificent story how natural
science has brought out the starry host of second causes from
their obscurity and shown how He who works everything works
by everything in the world. This profuse discovery of means,
however, has clouded thought regarding the Creator. With
the religious derangement is associated corruption in political
life and formalism in the church. These are really one, at bot-
tom, with the scientific skepticism of the time. If one looks at
them philosophically he must see that it is truly so. The
magnifying of machinery in church or state follows from the
loss of first principles of government. " Dogmatism and
ritualism are all wrong when they think themselves supremely
believing. Both are really symptomatic forms of unbelief."
Another feature of the age, making it a " transition
time," lies in the contradictions with which it is full. Chief
among the contradictions is the conflict between individual
vol. n
i 9 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
freedom and authority. It is a time that takes its character
from its relation to what has gone before and what is to come
after rather than from what it contains in itself. This gives it
an aspect of restlessness and unquiet. It is full of the sense
of having broken with the past and of having not yet appre-
hended the future that is to come. But to go back is impos-
sible. " The man who, tired of the freedom of individual
thought, wants to push the church back into the peace of
mere authoritative and traditional religion, and the man who,
tired of the noise and confusion of popular government, wishes
to push back into feudalism, both are mistaken and will not
succeed. Confusion is to be escaped, not by being repressed
into stagnation, but by being developed into peace." But
for the passing moment the age is dark and hopeless, those to
whom we look for guidance are silent, and the best and wisest
do not speak.
The most pathetic sign of such a transition time is the posi-
tion in which it places the best individuals who live in it. The
best men in the more fixed and stationary ages speak out the
loudest. They stand on certainties, and speak with clear and con-
fident tones. The most noticeable and touching thing about such
times as ours is the way in which so many of the best men are
silent and will not speak. It is so both in politics and religion.
The most thoughtful men are always tending to withdraw from a
political confusion which they cannot understand and which
makes them mere spectators. And how many of the purest and
devoutest people whom we know refuse to speak a word in all the
tumult of religious and ecclesiastical debate that always is so loud
around us. To take again the words of a very remarkable poem
of that most representative poet of our time whom I have twice
quoted already :
Achilles ponders in his tent,
The king's of modern thought are dumb,
Silent they are though not content,
And wait to see the future come.
Silent while years engrave the brow-
Silent, the best are silent now.
But the highest quality in this sermon for the times is the
spirit of inextinguishable hope. His optimism is everywhere
apparent. He is an optimist because he believes in God.
jet. 41-42] THE TRIAL OF FAITH 195
It is not a shallow optimism, repeating empty phrases, but
comes from one who was competent to interpret the motives of
despair. " I do not certainly say that such a time is best,
though really in my heart I do not think the world has ever
seen a better. There must be better ones to come. Tho
story of the world is not yet told. ' We are ancients of the
earth and in the morning of the times.' ' The sermon con-
cludes with suggestions as to how a man is to get the best
out of his time and shun the worst. He offers no solution
of the conflict between religion and science. From that snag
he held aloof. He does not depreciate nor denounce the
men of science. But he advises his hearers in the first place
to cling to the solidity and persistency of nature, the calm-
ness and oldness and orderliness of this world of growth and
matter. It means something that, in the disorder of thought
and feeling, so many men are fleeing to the study of orderly
nature. And it is rest and comfort, whatever men are feel-
ing, that the seasons come and go. Whatever men are doubt-
ing, the rock is firm under their feet, and the steadfast stars
pass in their courses overhead. And in the second place he
urges them to make much of the experiences of life which
are perpetual, joy, sorrow, friendship, work, charity, rela-
tions with one's brethren, for these are eternal. And in the
last place, it is not religion itself that is unsettled, but it is
only the thoughts about religion that are not clear. Love is \
at the root of everything. The human soid responds to the
appealing nature and life of Jesus Christ. Here is the great
last certainty. Be sure of God and nothing can overthrow
or drown you.
Everything indicates that during these years, that is, from
the time he came to Boston, he had concentrated his strength
on the study of the religious situation, why it was that
faith had grown weak, and what was the best method of meet-
ing the difficulty. As dtiring the war he had thrown himself
into the vindication of its great issues, so now he identified
himself with the religious conflict, watching the phases it
assumed, brooding over the subject in his hours of solitude ;
196 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
in his walks also among men, as he listened to the casual
conversation or the tacit assumptions, which implied so much
more than was said. At the meetings of the Clericus Club
these questions formed the staple element in every discussion.
He contributed his share to the talk on these occasions, but
among his other endowments he had the capacity of being
the best of listeners. Every meeting of the club formed a
picture which he studied in silence. He neglected no source
of information, and preeminently he studied his own soul in
deep sincerity. He was preparing for some larger expression
of himself than he had yet given, not seeking the opportunity
to make it, but waiting till some call should come when he
should be moved to say what was uppermost in his heart.
In 1878 Mr. Brooks went a second time to New Haven,
giving two lectures before the students of the Yale Divinity
School on the " Teaching of Religion." In the summer of
the same year he made an address before the alumni of the
theological seminary of Virginia, when he took for his sub-
ject, "The Relation of the Pulpit to Popular Skepticism."
The two themes are closely allied ; in both he was dealing
with the question, how best to meet the spirit of modern
unbelief. The lectures on the "Teaching of Religion " are
specially significant as showing that he still maintained the
superiority of the intellectual powers, giving to them the
leadership in the approach to religious truth. 1
Again we go back to his early years for that first hint of
the task whose accomplishment he was now maturing. Then
he had recorded in his note-book the conviction that there was
adequate power in life for the transformation of humanity
into the divine ideal, but the practical question was how to
bring the power to bear upon the will. He had now reached
the conclusion that the power of the pulpit was identical with
the power of the teacher. The same method which made the
1 The first of these two lectures on the " Teaching of Religion " has been pub-
lished in Essays and Addresses, the second is still in manuscript. The essay
on the " Pulpit and Popular Skepticism " was printed in the Princeton Review,
March, 1879, and is also included in Essays and Addresses.
mt. 41-42] TEACHING OF RELIGION 197
teacher effective could be applied by the preacher. It was
an encouraging fact in an age of religious doubt that the
remedy might be found in the principle that Christianity
could be taught. As the teacher developed the capacities
latent in the pupil, so there was in every man the capacity
for religion, which must be evoked by the teacher's methods.
But the conviction that religion was capable of being taught
met with opposition in a vague and general sentiment that it
was a thing that could not and ought not to be taught. In
meeting this objection, it was necessary to give a definition
of religion. Among the many attempts to define it, all of
them containing elements of truth, that which Phillips
Brooks now gave deserves attention : " Religion is the life of
man in gratitude and obedience and gradually developing
likeness to God ; " and " the Christian religion is the life of
man in gratitude and obedience and growing likeness to God
in Christ. Religion is not service simply, nor is it grate-
ful love alone, but gratitude assured by obedience, obedience
uttering gratitude." *
Having given his definition of religion, he further clears
the way for his purpose by criticising three methods of teach-
ing it, the dogmatic or intellectual, the emotional, and the
mechanical: the first, holding that religion is taught when
doctrines or truths have been imparted ; the second, dwelling
on the importance of moving the feelings ; and the last, insist-
ing on the confessional and spiritual directorship. Or, as he
puts it again, one teaching religion as truth, another as feel-
ing, and another as law or drill. But the true method of
teaching religion is where the personality of the teacher in-
vades the personality of the scholar. The largest idea which
covers every demand of the ministry, he avows it in his own
experience, consists " in bringing the personal Christ to the
personal human nature." He turns this point over and reit-
erates it in many varying forms of expression : " The object
of all the teaching is to bring Christ to men." When this
principle is recognized as fundamental, other methods fall
1 Essays and Addresses, p. 35.
i 9 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
into their true relationship ; doctrine, emotion, and conduct
cease to be counted as valuable in themselves, and are valued
as avenues through which Christ, the personal Christ, may
come to the soul.
He has much to say about Christianity considered as doc-
trine. He recognizes the righteousness of the reaction in the
popular mind against the assumption that men are to be saved
by right opinions. But because men are not saved by intel-
lectual belief is no reason for discarding doctrines. He pro-
tests against any tendency to " soften " the truth or pare it
down to meet men's wishes. He recalls Tertullian's words,
Credo quia impossibile, as the expression of no rare experi-
ence :
It is the religion of most demands that has most ruled the
world. The easy faiths have been the weak faiths. Men like to
feel heroic in their faith; and always it has been easier to excite
fanaticism than to build up a quiet, reasonable belief. It would
be a wretched falsehood, and one which would no doubt defeat
itself, if a preacher tried to take advantage of this fact of human
nature ; but it may at least come in to help us to resist the dis-
position to omit or soften truths in order that men may receive
the truth more easily. The hope of a large general belief in
Christian truth, more general than any that any past age has wit-
nessed, does, no doubt, involve a more reasonable and spiritual
presentation of it than the past has seen, but it will never be
attained by making truth meagre. . . . The only real assurance
against unreal, fantastic, sensational, indulgent teaching about
Christ is the teacher's own complete conviction, from his own
experience, of the perfection and sufficiency of Christ, just as
Christ is.
There was much talk in the days when these lectures
were delivered of the necessity of doctrinal preaching. It
was said of Phillips Brooks that he did not treat of this or
that doctrine. " A man says to me, ' Why do you not preach
this truth more ? ' and I reply to him, ' Why should I ? '
and he answers, ' Because it is a truth which many men are
denying, and many other men are forgetting.' But the an-
swer is not sufficient. It may be because men are indifferent
to it that one ought to preach it, or that may be a reason for
mt. 41-42] TEACHING OF RELIGION 199
feeling that it is not the truth most needed at the moment."
As to religious controversy he has a word to say. lie does
not condemn it, nor dare to wish that all the great contro-
versial voices of the past or of the present could be silenced
or swept from the pedestals where the admiration of mankind
has set them. But there are conditions of the public mind
when a man must set his face against controversies. It is
bad to cry, " Peace, peace ! " when there is no peace. It is
just as bad, in some ways it is worse, to cry, "War, war ! "
when there is no war.
It seems to me as if, were I a layman in the days when some
doctrine had got loose as it were into the wind and was being
blown across the Common and up and down the streets, I should
go to church on Sunday, not wanting my minister to give me an
oracular answer to all the questions which had been started about
it, which I should not believe if he did give it, but hoping that
out of his sermon I might refresh my knowledge of Christ, get
Him, His nature, His work, and His desire for me once more
clear before me, and go out more ready to see this disputed truth
of the moment in His light and as an utterance of Him. . . .
Preaching Christ ! That old phrase, which has been so often the
very watchword of cant, how it still declares the true nature of
Christian teaching! Not Christianity, but Christ! Not a doc-
trine, but a Person ! Christianity only for Christ ! The doctrine
only for the Person ! x
The first of the lectures on the " Teaching; of Religion "
was occupied with the intellectual aspects of Christianity,
and how these were related to the personal Christ and to the
actual life of man. He followed still the customary division
of the human powers, into intellect, feeling, and will, while
he protested against it as breaking up the unity of man. His
own predominant tendency was intellectual, as it had been
from his earliest years. To know for himself, to understand
in order that he might believe, had been his ambition. But
he recognized in himself other methods of knowing than
through the intellect alone. The full perception of truth
must come through the quickened feeling, and above all
through the obedient will. In this threefold psychological
1 Essays and Addresses, pp. 49, 54.
2oo PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
order Christian doctrine or truth is to be regarded as a clear
glass held squarely between God and man in order to the
reflection of the pure reality ; feeling is to furnish the middle
term between truth and duty ; and duty is obedience to God's
will, which unites the service of our brethren with the culture
of ourselves. But he adds : " There is one thing which I value
more than this. What impresses us most in the best, the
most Godlike men we ever see is, I think, the inability to
tell in them what of their power is intellectual and what is
moral. It is the characteristic of all spiritual advancement
that it asserts more and more the unity of man, makes him
less and less a bundle of faculties, more a man, made in the
image of God, who is one God in the complete harmony and
cooperation of all his life."
But the familiar classification he still found convenient, and
in the second lecture he considered the teaching of religion as
it is related to the feeling and the will. Under feeling he in-
cludes worship. He does not restrict worship to the prayer and
praise of the congregation ; preaching and architecture and
music have their important relation to worship as the outcome
of feeling. He dwells on the mystery of feeling, " We
talk about it as if we knew about it, yet what a mysterious,
variable, and imponderable thing it is." There occurs a pas-
sage here which is so exact a description of his own preach-
ing, and his own mysterious power, that it deserves quota-
tion :
A man comes and stands before a multitude of his fellow men
and tells them a story. It is of something which happened long
ago, yet which concerns them. It is of something which happened
in one special time and set of circumstances, yet it is universal.
As he speaks, his fellow men who listen begin to change before
him. They flush and glow; . . . they tremble in their seats;
they almost leap to their feet ; tears start into their eyes. It is a
most attractive spectacle. It fires the speaker, and he goes on to
make yet more intense and glowing the emotion that reacts on
him. One who stands by and gazes, though he may not hear a
word, is caught with the thrilling, heating atmosphere, and finds
himself trembling with mysterious desires. The voice stops, but
the spell is not broken. The people rise and go away exalted.
jet. 41-42] TEACHING OF RELIGION 201
They tread the pavement as if it sprang heneath their feet and
hreathe the air as if it were alive with beautiful and serious
thoughts.
The importance of feeling in religion is strongly urged. To
the lack of feeling is due the defect in modern architecture
as compared with other ages, when true feeling found expres-
sion in every part of the edifice :
I think it is not wrong, it is not extravagant, to say that the
artistic element in almost all of it (our present ecclesiastical art)
conies in as a stranger. It claims a place purely for its own
beautiful conception or skilful conception. Whether it be an
imitation of something old, something which once uttered truths
which men do not now believe or which they realize in other ways
... or whether it be original and new embodying the sense of
beauty which belongs to our own time, the reason of its unsatis-
factoriness is still the same, it does not stand genuinely between
truth and duty, the truth and duty of the present day, interpret-
ing one to the other. The architect draws a plan for a church
building, so far as its artistic element is concerned, because as a
student he admires that type of a church in some past age, or
because simply as an artist he feels its absolute beauty, and not
because it is the form in which he finds the natural utterance of
the Christian thought of which his soul is full, nor because he is
thinking of the power and inspiration which it ought to exercise
upon the men who are to worship within its walls. And the
decorator draws dreadful mechanical patterns or paints his artifi-
cial saints upon your walls Avith the same imperfection of purpose,
and so with the same failure of result. But none the less is it
true that the architect who builds the perfect Christian church
for any age must be a man who believes in the Christian truth
which that age realizes, and who is enthusiastic in the desire that
the Christian men and women of the age shall do the Christian
duty, outward and inward, which the conditions of their age
demand and make possible. ... He must be neither the pious
mediaevalist nor the modern skeptic. He must be the modern
Christian.
He takes the opportunity of speaking about music, and
especially music in the churches. Here are the thoughts which
were running through his mind as he stood in church or pulpit
while the service of song was performed :
I think that many of the disputes about its methods are seen
202 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
to be of little consequence, and many of the dogmatic decisions
about those methods appear shallow and false. Disputes about
methods always grow loud and positive in proportion as the con-
ception of purpose is vague. Shall all the people sing, or shall
the trained and gifted voices of a few declare the praises of the
Lord? I believe in congregational singing. I believe it should
altogether be the chief and preponderant method of our worship.
But remember that the question altogether should come first,
what is the purpose of singing at all? I suppose it is twofold.
First, church music is the general utterance of the melodiousness,
the joy, the poetry of religion. And second, it is the special
means by which a special truth is fastened on the soul, and a
special duty made winning and authoritative. Now there are two
ways in which any strong feeling finds satisfaction and increase.
One is by the man, in whose heart it is, uttering it himself in
what best way he can; the other is by his hearing its ideal utter-
ance from the lips most gifted to declare it. . . . When a great
congregation is to praise the Lord and to learn truth and duty
by the melody of song, I for one should be sorry to have it lose
either of the two exaltations, either that which comes of the great,
simple, sublime utterance of its own emotion, or that which comes
from listening while voices which the Lord has filled with the
gold and silver of His choicest and most mysterious harmony
reveal to us the full beauty of truth and the full sweetness and
sacredness of duty.
There is another passage in this lecture in which he speaks
of the music of preaching, and throws light upon his own
work in the pulpit :
What I have said of music applies, I think, to all the graces and
appealing tones of the preacher's art. There is a music of preach-
ing. What the melody of a hymn is to its words, that the elo-
quence of the preacher is to his truth. . . . The Quaker hushes
the sacrilegious chant, and then listens to the hymn of the inner
life. The Puritan breaks the window, and then paints in soft or
lurid words a picture from his pulpit which tempts or scares the
souls who listen and believe, and weep or tremble. Where is the
difference ? . . . Words like notes or colors may lead from truth
to duty, or they may stand helpless, leading from nothing to
nothing. We are afraid of eloquence nowadays, and no doubt our
fear of it has borne good fruit. There never was a time when
so many men wrote and spoke good English. . . . The only mis-
giving which one has, I think, the only want which one allows
himself to feel in reading the great abundance of good writing
jet. 41-42] TEACHING OF RELIGION 203
which he meets with everywhere, is in a certain absence of that
glow and richness, whose absence lie knows is the price he pays
for the crystal purity of the pages he reads. He sees that elo-
quence of style or gesture has acquired a suspicion of unreality.
It has gone out of favor in our colleges. It only lingers in our
pulpits here and there. The fact that there is where it lingers
makes us sometimes hope that there is where it shall be born into
new power. We wonder whether it may not be for the pulpit,
having learnt with all the other writing and speaking of the age
that the primary necessity of written or spoken words is clearness,
then to assert that clearness is more, not less, clear for the warm
glow of earnest feeling, and to give back to the best writing and
speaking of the age to come a power of personal appeal and legit-
imate attractiveness in return for the necessity of careful thought
and clear expression which no doubt the pulpit has learned from
the best writing and speaking of this accurate but uninspired age.
Having treated of the place of the intellect and of the feel-
ing in the teaching of religion, he comes to the will, and to
obedience he pays high tribute. To the will as to the goal
and termination come the intellect and the feeling. In
his definition of religion he puts obedience as the crowning
glory of the whole, obedience, in gratitude for what we
know of God in Christ. No ancient Roman, whether pagan
or Christian, ever asserted more strongly the claims of obedi-
ence to be the highest virtue. A most impressive catena of
passages might be selected from his sermons in which he
glorifies obedience. It is not the badge of servitude, but
of freedom and equality. It is the mightiest of words, be-
cause it stands for the final expression of the man in whom
the knowledge of Christ has entered, taking possession of
the whole range of being. The obedience of Christ was the
crown of his glory, the badge of his divinity. And in order to
obedience the freedom of the will, in every sense of the word
"freedom," is the inalienable prerogative of man.
The point of view from which he treated the subject of
obedience in this second of his lectures on the " Teaching
of Religion " was its importance and relationship in a system
of ethics. It was possible to conceive the service of others as
the motive of duty, or duty might be urged as a means of
self-culture. He accepted both theories as legitimate, but
204 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
subordinated both to duty conceived as obedience to the will
of God. The hard sense of obligation in the one, or the
danger of self -consciousness in the other, disappeared when
duty sprang from gratitude and love to a person, to God
revealed in Christ. This was the ground on which Christ
rested when inculcating the seemingly ungracious duties of
life, " I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that
curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them
that spitefully use you and persecute you ; " and not merely
that His disciples would thus engage in the service of men, or
attain higher reaches in self -culture, although these objects
are implied, but " that ye may be the children of your Father
which is in heaven."
The lectures on the " Teaching of Religion " were aimed to
meet the conditions of the hour, " times like these when
men's power of believing seems to be weak and sickly." He
comes to the subject more directly in the essay on " The Pul-
pit and Popular Skepticism." The prevailing type of skepti-
cism differs from that of other ages, in that it is marked by
its completeness and its despair. It does not merely reject
this or that doctrine, but the whole body of the Christian faith.
It goes so deep that it has a perpetual tendency to defeat
itself. Because it offers no substitute for the discarded reli-
gion, it leaves men's religious natures unprovided for and
hungry, and in this there is hope, for it gives to Christian-
ity the perpetual advantage of human nature. In speaking
of the deeper sources of unbelief he says :
It is not the difficulty of this or that doctrine that makes men
skeptics to-day. It is rather the play of all life upon the funda-
mental grounds and general structure of faith. It is the meeting
in the commonest minds of great perpetual tides of thought and
instinct which neutralize each other, such as the tides of faith and
providence, the tides of pessimism and optimism, the tides of self-
sacrifice and selfishness.
Let this not seem too large or lofty an explanation of the com-
monplace phenomena of doubt, which are thick around us in our
congregations in the world. The reason why my hearer, who sits
moodily or scornfully or sadly before me in his pew, and does not
o
5
V,
u
X
u
H
y.
jet. 41-42] PULPIT AND SKEPTICISM 205
cordially believe a word of what I preach to him, the reason why
he disbelieves is not that he has found the evidence for inspiration
or for Christ's divinity or for the Atonement unsatisfactory. It
is that the aspect of the world, which is fate, has been too strong
for the fundamental religion of the world, which is Providence.
And the temptation of the world, which is self-indulgence, has
seemed to make impossible the precept of religion, which is self-
surrender; and the tendency of experience, which is hopelessness,
has made the tendency of the gospel, which is hope, to seem
unreal and unbelievable.
Because this is the character of the skepticism of the time
it cannot be overcome by any special skill in proving this
truth or disproving that error. " The main method of meet-
ing it must be not an argument, but a man. The method
which includes all other methods must be in his own man-
hood, in his character, in his being such a man, and so appre-
hending truth himself that truth through him can come to
other men." Among the most needed and the rarest quali-
ties that such a man must have is candor. The mind of the
people, and of the clergy also, is confused and doubtful
about the once received doctrine of " verbal inspiration."
Another doctrine called in question is that of everlasting
punishment : there are those who reject it, while others are
timidly asking whether a man can be a Christian and yet
keep a hope for all God's children. Let the clergy be candid
in dealing with these points. " A large acquaintance with
clerical life has led me to think that almost any company of
clergymen gathering together and talking freely to one an-
other will express opinions which would greatly surprise and
at the same time relieve the congregations who ordinarily
listen to these ministers." A venerable preacher standing in
his own pulpit had said not long before that no man was a
Christian who did not believe that this world was made in
six literal days. Such a statement should not be allowed to
pass without most clear and earnest disavowal. The old talk
about holding the outworks as long as possible before retreat-
ing to the citadel is based upon a metaphor than which none
could be more mischievous. It is a dangerous experiment
206 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
for parents to try with their children, teaching them what
they themselves have long since ceased to believe.
The true man must also escape from partisanship, and
from the reproach of it. What hurts the clergy is the idea
in the popular mind that they are committed to these things,
and are no longer seekers for truth, but advocates of eertain
accepted positions. Let the clergy at least cease to use ques-
tionable arguments, and at any rate prevent their ministry
from seeming like a scramble for adherents rather than a
Christ like love for souls.
He repeats what he had already said in his lectures on the
r " Teaching of Religion," that it is a foolish and base idea to
/ suppose that in days like these men want to have Christian
[ truth made slight and easy for them :
In times of staggering faith, as is shown in Christian history,
men need the whole truth. They should not he asked to believe
1 just as little as possible and told that the most exacting articles
of faith may be cast away. ... It would be no strange issue of
such times as we are living in if out of them should come a great
demand for difficult doctrine, a time of superstition, a fever to
succeed the chill ; for the spirit that cries, " Credo quia impos-
sibile," the heroic spirit of faith, is too deep in our human nature
for any one century to have eradicated it. That we may guard
against such reaction into superstition, as well as meet the present
infidelity, what we need is not more easiness, but more simplicity
in the doctrine which we preach, and in our way of preaching it.
I In other words, it is not a smaller amount of doctrine, but it is a
'larger unity of doctrine. It is a more profound entrance into the
heart of doctrine, in which its unity and simplicity reside, a more
true grasp and enforcement of its spiritual meaning.
He illustrates his meaning by reference to the doctrine of
endless punishment. The best way of meeting the subject is
to cease to preach about it, and to seek to bring the power of
the person of Christ to bear on the lives of men, awakening
in them a dread of sin and a desire for holiness. " I will not
care nearly so much that a man should hold what I believe
to be the truth about future punishment as that he should
be deeply convinced of the enormity and persistency of sin."
It is vitally important that all religious truths should be
jet. 41-42] PULPIT AND SKEPTICISM 207
shown to have some necessary connection with righteousness
of character. Only in this way can they be established in the
minds of men.
There are doctrinal statements, which puzzle and bewilder,
which are in reality excrescences on the faitli and must be cast
away by the natural and healthy action of the system. There are
doctrinal statements, which once were true and did vast good
and yet were only temporary aspects of the truth. There are men
living by them still, as men are still seeing the light of the stars
extinguished in the heavens long ago. The time will come when
these temporary statements will disappear, and when their light
goes out it will be of all importance that they recognize the sun
by whose light these accidental and temporary points of its exhi-
bition have been shining.
This sun of all truth is the person of Christ. The characteris-
tic of our modern Christianity, which correlates it with all apos-
tolic times, is the substitution of loyalty to a person in place of
belief in doctrines as the essence and test of Christian life. This
is the simplicity and unity by which the Gospel can become effec-
tive. These are the ideas of Christianity which are in conflict
to-day, one magnifying doctrine whose great sin is heresy ; the
other magnifying obedience. To follow the latter is in these
days, I think, the best method of dealing in the pulpit with
popular skepticism. The superiority of this method, whose essence
is the personal relationship with Christ, lies in this that it
offers "the highest picture of the combination of stability with
progress while, on the other hand, the intellectual conception is
always sacrificing stability to progress or progress to stability."
In this connection he takes occasion to speak of the subject
of Christian Unity :
I do not see the slightest promise in any dimmest distance of
what is called the organic unity of Christendom on the basis of
episcopacy or any other basis. I do not see the slightest chance
of the entire harmonizing of Christian doctrine throughout the
Christian world, that dream which men have dreamed ever since
Christ ascended into Heaven, that sight which no man's eye has
seen in any age. But I do see signs that, keeping their different
thoughts concerning Him and His teachings, men, loyal to Christ,
owning His love, trusting His love, may be united in the only
union which is really valuable wherever His blessed name is
known. In that union, and in that alone, can I find myself truly
1
208 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1877-78
one alike with Peter and with Paul, alike with Origen and Atha-
nasius and Augustine, alike with Luther and with Zwingle and
with Calvin and with St. Francis and with Bishop Andrews and
with Dr. Channing, alike with the prelate who ordains me and
with the Methodist or Baptist brother who is trying to bring men
to the same Christ in the same street where I am working. And
no union which will not include all these ought wholly to satisfy
us, because no other will wholly satisfy the last great prayer of
Jesus.
The essay offers some practical suggestions. Since the
popular skepticism is one in character with the skepticism of
the scholars and of the schools, therefore the Christian min-
ister should keep himself acquainted with the newest develop-
ments of thought. He urges the importance of preaching
Christ, but would enlarge its range. There must be no sacri-
fice of the intellect.
The Christian minister should be so familiar with what men
are thinking and believing that he can know the currents of pre-
sent thought, see where they cross and oppose, where they may
be made to harmonize with the thought of Christ. This familiar-
ity is something which must be constantly kept up in the active
ministry. But its foundations ought to be laid in the theological
school.
And so he concludes with this statement of his attitude :
My one great comprehensive answer then to the question, What
is the best method of dealing in the pulpit with popular skepti-
cism ? is really ftiis : Make known and real to men by every means
you can command the personal Christ, not doctrine about Him,
but Him ; strike at the tyranny of the physical life by the power
of His spiritual presence. Let faith mean, make faith mean,
trusting Him and trying to obey Him. Call any man a Chris-
tian who is following Him. Denounce no error as fatal which
does not separate a soul from Him. Offer Him to the world as
He offered and is forever offering Himself.
CHAPTER VIII
1879
THE BOnLEN LECTURES ON THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS
The Bohlen Lectures on the "Influence of Jesus" were
published in 1879. This work must be regarded as one of
Phillips Brooks's most important contributions to the develop-
ment of theological science. More even than his lectures
on Preaching may it be said to be his autobiography. He
has here expressed himself most fully in describing his own
inner life and the deeper motives which inspired his preach-
ing. Incidentally, also, he has spoken upon many important
points correlated to his main theme. The treatise is a small
one, allowing little opportunity for expansion, but the expan-
sion will be found in his sermons.
It is now nearly the lifetime of a generation since this
treatise was given to the world. Issues then living have
been determined and new ones have arisen. The book has
fulfilled its true mission in meeting a widespread popular
need and in changing the trend of religious thought. Its large
circulation bears witness to its influence. But it requires
some comment here in order to bring out its full significance,
to show wherein its power lay in meeting the age, in closing
a chapter of confusion and contradiction in religious thought
as well as introducing a new era in religious life. To those
who are passing through the mood of the last generation the
book has still a special mission. But it has also certain en-
during qualities which secure its permanent place in religious
literature.
And in the first place, to touch upon its autobiographical
value, it shows this to have been the main characteristic
of Phillips Brooks, whether as a man or as a preacher and
theologian, that he was from the first in search of a
vol. n
210 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
stronger religion and a stronger Christ than the age pre-
sented. He needed it first for himself and then for others.
His powerful tumultuous nature cried out for strength, for
some one to obey, whose will would subdue him and bring
him into the captivity wherein lies perfect freedom. There
is a passage in his essay on the " Pulpit and Popular Skep-
ticism " which must be taken not only as his appeal to
others, but as the outcry of his own soul, where he calls for a
powerful Christ, " a Christ so completely powerful that once
perfectly present with a human soul He must master it and
it must yield to Him. If the reason why men doubt Him is
that they do not, cannot, will not, see Him, then I think it
must be certain that what they need is a completer, more
living presentation of His personality, so that He shall stand
before them and claim what always was His claim, ' Believe
in Me,' not 'Believe this or that about Me,' but 'Believe
in Me.' " 1 Like all great men and strong natures, Phillips
Brooks could live only in contact with strength and greatness.
For this reason he had been fascinated by Carlyle, by the
study of Mohammed and Luther and Cromwell, men to
whom he had first been introduced in " Heroes and Hero
Worship." But as Carlyle had been disappointed in his
search for great men in history, so also did Phillips Brooks
become disenchanted with Carlyle. For Carlyle had passed
over in silence, we need not here discuss for what reason, the
strongest man in history. There is one passage in his writ-
ings where one would have expected at least some allusion
to the Founder of Christianity, but it is not made. The
passage may be given as indicating the point where Phillips
Brooks made his departure from the famous teacher. It is
a passage significant also as showing how men were content
with talking about a situation without explaining it :
How did Christianity arise and spread abroad among men?
Was it by institutions and establishments and well-arranged system
of mechanism ? Not so ; on the contrary, in all past and existing
institutions for those ends, its divine Spirit has invariably been
found to languish and decay. It arose in the majestic deeps of
1 Cf. Essays and Addresses, p. 75.
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 211
man's soul; and was spread abroad by the "preaching of the
word," by simple, altogether natural and individual efforts, and
flew, like hallowed fire, from heart to heart, till all were purified
and illuminated by it; and its heavenly light shone, as it still
shines, and as sun or star will ever shine, through the whole dark
destinies of man. 1
It is interesting to note at how early a period Phillips
Brooks fastened upon the truth which was to underlie and
control his thinking. He had begun his studies for the
ministry with some grave misgivings as to whether the
preacher could wield the power which the times demanded.
He soon came to the conclusion that the preacher's influence
depended on his character as a man, that truth was conta-
gious through personality. Thus in a sermon preached so
early as 1861, at the age of twenty-five, on the text, St. John
xiv. 6 : " I am the way and the truth and the life," he had
expressed his conviction that the defect of the age was its
tendency to seek after abstract truth divested of personal
relations :
I maintain that all such impersonal truth, when it is acquired,
however much it may do for the sharpening and stocking the
brains and improving the outward conditions of mankind, is as
bad as useless as far as any immediate effect upon the character
and temperament is concerned. All truth must be brought, in
order to be effective, through a personal medium. Which of us
can dare to say that he would hold the most effective truths that
he believes in just as much and just in the same way as he does
now, if they had come to him anonymously, if they had reached
him so that he could not doubt their truth, but resting on no fellow
man's authority; if some night the stars had spelt out the story
in their ordered courses, or it had woven itself in the filmy tissues
of a dream, or the morning winds had awaked us with it, as they
blew their message across our sleep? We have some personality
behind them all; a mother's voice yet trembles in them, a father's
authority makes them solemn, a teacher's enthusiasm will not let
us count them trivial, and so they first have gained and so they
still hold their great power over us.
Yes, it is the personal power that is mighty in the world. It
is not merely a difference between different orders of minds, that
the higher are more moved by abstract truth, while the lower, the
1 Carlyle, Miscellanies, vol. ii. p. 242.
212 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
great mass of mankind, are open only to the more palpable touch
of personal power. That is the conceit of culture. All men are
influenced mostly by embodied truth, by truth coming to them
through some relation of a fellow man. . . .
The trouble which so many have in finding any power in the
truths that they believe is, that strange as it may seem, Chris-
tianity is to multitudes of people a purely abstract system. It
has lost its personal aspect. But Christianity is what? The
service of Christ. Its very essence is its personality. It is all
built about a person. Take Him out and it all falls to pieces.
Just because He has been taken out of the religion which many of
us call our Christianity, just for that reason is our Christianity
a poor thing of the remote brain, bringing no peace to our hearts,
and no strength to our hands, no comfort to our sorrows, and no
benediction to our joy. 1
With such a conviction in his mind he had rejected the
conception of Christ offered by Strauss in his " Leben Jesu,"
where the Christ-idea was presented as the essential thing,
and His personality of no account ; so that it would have made
no difference in the result if Christ had been the product of
a mythical tendency, not an actual personage, but a creation
of the human mind, at a moment when the tides of human
aspiration were flowing strongly. All this now seems remote.
It has become hard to understand that such a view should
have been put forth by a serious thinker. But the work
of Strauss, in its first form, and translated by George Eliot,
had great vogue in the middle period of the nineteenth cen-
tury.
Again, Phillips Brooks felt repugnance for the conception
of Christ in Kenan's "Vie de Jesu," where Christ is drawn as
an amiable creature, full of soft and tender sentiment, with
no strong definite purpose of a mission to the world, acted
upon from without, changing His attitude, involving himself
in contradiction and inconsistency, full of charming naive
impressions, but in his softness possessing strength. It is
said of the author that when the Germans were at the gates
of Paris, he stood at a window watching the careless people
1 Cf. The Message of Christ to Manhood, being the William Belden Noble
Lectures for 1898, p. 12, where this passage is referred to in a study of Phillips
Brooks.
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 213
as they came and went, and remarked, " Voila ce qui nous
sauvera, c'est la mollesse de cette population."
It was in 18G5 that the book " Ecce Homo " appeared, by
the late Professor J. R. Seeley, to which no one gave more
earnest welcome than Phillips Brooks. It may be called the
English " Life of Jesus " as compared with the works of
Renan and Strauss. It took English ground in discussing
the subject, rendering the verdict of cool common sense by
an inquirer who brushed aside as irrelevant the difficulties
created by Biblical criticism. The author refused to discuss
the actuality or the possibility of the miracles, or whether
John wrote the Fourth Gospel, whether Luke or Matthew
borrowed from Mark, or what were the sources of Mark, or
when exactly these narratives were written. He simply
assumed that they were in the main trustworthy, and that
the disciples believed that Christ worked miracles. This
assumption was sufficient for his argument. One element in
the strength of the book lay in this, that when the author
had presented the picture of Christ, it so explained and
justified the Christ of history that difficulties about the nar-
ratives and sources no longer embarrassed. A strong man,
the strongest man in history, with a clear view of His purpose
from the moment He began to teach ; no mere teacher uttering
placidly His sentiments, but from the first assuming the posi-
tion of an authoritative lawgiver, enforcing His word by
the most powerful of sanctions, calling into existence a society,
legislating for that society to the end of time, this was in
outline the Christ in the pages of " Ecce Homo." " The
achievement of Christ in founding by His single will and
power a structure so durable and so universal is like no
other achievement which history records. The masterpieces
of the men of action are coarse and common in comparison
with it, and the masterpieces of speculation flimsy and unsub-
stantial. When we speak of it the commonplaces of admi-
ration fail us altogether." 1
The welcome which Phillips Brooks gave to " Ecce Homo "
did not mean that he accepted its presentation of Christ as
1 Cf. Am. ed. p. 354.
2i 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
complete or final. We shall see that the total picture of
Jesus in his mind after years of reflection was quite different.
But it included at least the conception of strength and
authority, and also the method, which waived the questions
raised by Biblical criticism in regard to the genuineness and
authenticity of New Testament writings, as having no practi-
cal bearing upon the final issue or on the work of the
preacher. He followed the conflicts of scholarship on these
points, but never allowed them to embarrass his mind.
When Phillips Brooks came to Boston in 1869 he found
that the New England Transcendentalists had left their in-
fluence on the public mind. This brilliant group of scholars
and thinkers were asking the question, What is truth, and
what are the canons for determining its authority? The
answer uniformly given was that the authority was within
the soul, and faith was the direct vision of the truth. This
was positive teaching, but it was accompanied by large nega-
tions. No special unique authority was accorded to the books
of Scripture or to the person of Christ. Christ was spoken
of with respect and even reverence as a great teacher, but
it was one of the conventionalities ' of transcendental speech
to associate Him with others, more particularly with Socrates
or Plato. It became a sort of commonplace among them to
speak of " Socrates and Jesus and Mohammed." It is said of
one of those eminent among this brilliant school of thinkers
and talkers that on a certain occasion, speaking before a
small audience, he ventured to place himself in the same
category, " Socrates, Jesus, and myself." He even de-
clared that he was willing to make the words of Jesus his
own, and to proclaim, " I am the resurrection and the life."
When one of his audience demurred, querying whether he
would be believed if he made such a proclamation, his reply
was that such a demurrer could only come from an unregener-
ate Calvinist.
The Transcendental school had found its chief religious
exponent in Boston in Theodore Parker (1860). He ac-
cepted its principle to the fullest extent, that the inward,
individual assurance of truth was its highest and sole author-
xt. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 215
ity. He was a courageous man, fighting his way through
great difficulties in heroic fashion. But he became entangled in
controversy ; his tone grew more aggressive and vehement as
he assumed the position of an iconoclast. Pie made no effort
to appreciate his opponent's attitude. He did not recognize
that sober combination of the transcendental principle with
historic Christianity which gave distinction and influence to
Coleridge, marking a new era in the theology of the Church
of England. In his vehement desire to enforce the truth he
saw he made utterances which did him injustice, and taken
without qualification did injury to others. Here are passages
from his famous sermon on " The Transient and the Per-
manent in Christianity" which reveal at once his strength
and weakness :
That pure ideal religion which Jesus saw on the mount of his
vision and lived out in the lowly life of a Galilean peasant ; which
transforms his cross into an emblem of all that is holiest on earth ;
which makes sacred the ground he trod and is dearest to the best
of men, most true to what is truest in them, cannot pass away.
Let men improve never so far in civilization, or soar never so
high on the wings of religion and love, they never can outgo the
flight of truth and Christianity. It will always be above them.
Yet in this same sermon he denies that the truth which
Jesus taught depended on His personality for its propagating
power in the world :
Almost every sect that has ever been makes Christianity rest
on the personal authority of Jesus, and not the immutable truth
of the doctrines themselves or the authority of God who sent him
into the world. Yet it seems difficult to conceive any reason why
moral and religious truths should rest for their support on the
personal authority of their revealer, any more than the truths of
science on that of him who makes them known first or most
clearly. It is hard to see why the great truths of Christianity
rest on the personal authority of Jesus more than the axioms of
geometry rest on the personal authority of Euclid or Archimedes.
The authority of Jesus, as of all teachers, one would naturally
think, must rest on the truth of his words, and not their truth on
his authority. 1
1 Discourse of Matters pertaining to Religion, p. 244, Boston, ed. 1S42.
2i6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
Even Parker's friends and sympathizers were disturbed by
this last statement. Mr. Martineau called it a " painful para-
dox," intimating that he used language in other places incon-
sistent with it. But Parker was on fire with his conviction
that every soul should be the judge and arbiter of truth in
virtue of the gift of immediate vision. Painful though the
paradox might be, he repeated it in his later " Discourse of
Religion," and in more intense and aggravated form, " If
Christianity be true at all it would be just as true if Herod
or Catiline had taught it."
Phillips Brooks sought to avoid controversy, and his book
on the " Influence of Jesus " is impersonal, reviewing the
religious situation of his time, yet mentioning no names or
treatises, although familiar with them all. But the following
passage from its opening pages, where he states his purpose,
shows that he felt called upon to resist the disintegrating
tendency in the popular mind, springing from the belief that
the personal character of the teacher may be disconnected
from the message :
What is the power of Christianity over mankind, its source, its
character, its issue? That is the question which I wish to study
with you in these four lectures I have been invited to deliver.
... I have been led to think of Christianity and to speak of it,
at least in these lectures, not as a system of doctrine, but as
a personal force, behind which and in which there lies one
great and inspiring idea, which it is the work of the personal
force to impress upon the life of man, with which the personal
force is always struggling to fill mankind. The personal force is
the nature of Jesus, full of humanity, full of divinity, and power-
ful with a love for man which combines in itself every element
that enters into love of the completest kind. . . . Every man's
power is his idea multiplied by and projected through his per-
sonality. The special actions which he does are only the points
at which his power shows itself. . . . The power of Jesus is the
idea of Jesus multiplied and projected through the person of
Jesus. . . . The message entrusted to the Son of God when He
came to be the Saviour of mankind was not only something which
He knew and taught; it was something which He was. . . .
The idea and the person are so mingled that we cannot separate
them. He is the truth, and whoever receives Him becomes the
son of God. 1
1 Influence of Jesus, pp. 12, 13.
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 217
And again, in another passage, he makes this more definite
allusion, " Not from simple brain to simple brain, as the rea-
soning of Euclid comes to its students, but from total charac-
ter to total character, comes the New Testament from God to
man." 1
We are admitted behind the scenes, as it were, when we
turn to the note-book, in which Mr. Brooks is seen making
the preparation for his book on the "Influence of Jesus."
He rarely changed his plan when he had once fixed upon it ;
but in this case he made a notable change. He had intended
to call his subject " Faith and Life." The respective lectures
were to be entitled (1) " Faith and Morals ; " (2) " Faith
and Society ; " (3) " Faith in Relation to Pain and Plea-
sure ; " (4) " Faith and the Intellectual Life." He drew up
a synopsis of each lecture, rich in spiritual suggestiveness.
His object was a defence of the spiritual interpretation
of life. Then suddenly, and as it would seem at the last
moment, he changed his subject, and hastily modified the
plan of treatment. He may have felt that this first scheme
was weak in that it put him in controversial or defensive
attitude, not the most effective method of accomplishing
his aim. As he came closer to his task the real motive which
inspired him was growing more clear and definite. Behind
the Christian faith and life stood the Christ. To give
the portrait of Him anew to the world was better to accom-
plish the end in view. Here are some of the sentences from
his note-book which betray first the working of his mind :
For centuries the Christian faith has been and still is making
life. We have Life from which to tell what the faith is and
Faith to tell what the life must be. What is Christianity that
it makes such men as these?
How far may we legitimately think that the present condition
of the social and personal life of Christendom is due to Christian
Faith? Very largely. Point to church, Bible, uniqueness of
Christendom, and unwillingness of all men to disown first Chris-
tian ideas.
The Faith and the Man, then, we want to trace in relation to
one another. The Faith we find in the Book to which the heart
1 Influence of Jesus, p. 234.
2i 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
of man has always returned more truly than it thinks. The man
we find in History. Observation and consciousness. There are
two questions What has Christianity made of man ? and What,
when it is freed from all hindrance and given its full power, can it
make of him ?
Such an inquiry, it will be seen, was too vast, and almost
beyond human capacity to execute. Still it is interesting to
know that it was in his mind, nor could it have failed to pro-
duce fruit. It was a larger background, vague, perhaps, and
unexplored in all its subtle unperceived relations, yet rein-
forcements came from it at every turn. The thing to do, the
simplest and yet the truest, the method which could not be
questioned, was to study the influence of Jesus as the seed
which had been actually lodged in the heart of humanity.
The lectures were written with the greatest rapidity, for
the time at his disposal was short. They were begun at the
Christmas season, when the claims of parish and social life
were most pressing, but he brought to them the preparation
of years. He wrote them out of his own soul, full of
emotion and intellectual fervor. Many of his sermons were
here condensed, a sermon in a paragraph ; such, for example,
as he preached when Principal Tulloch was listening, with its
flash of insight and reality. The constant study of the Bible
and of the life of Christ, wherein he had gained more than he
could give in yearly Bible class or Lenten meditations, or
Wednesday evening lectures, was yielding its unsuspected
contributions. The book was done in haste, but it was the
product of the long, slow processes of life.
And still another circumstance must be mentioned, most
important of all. As he wrote his heart was very tender, for
he was passing through a great sorrow in the last illness and
death of his father. That event in his experience left its
impression on his theology, for his theology was the reflex of
the revelation of life.
It is intended in these remarks that follow to point out
some features of the book, in its methods and conclusions,
which will throw light on the position that Phillips Brooks
occupied in his age. In the first place, he attempted the
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 219
portrayal of a strong Christ, whoso mastery was capable of
dominating every soul, and of subduing all humanity to Him-
self. To this end he boldly identified the personality of
Jesus with the essence of His religion. By personality he
understood the inmost nature and character, that within a
man which rules the life. He had brought out this truth
in his " Lectures on Preaching," and elsewhere in his writ-
ings. But now he drags it once more into the foreground of
a great picture, holding it up to his hearers with tireless
energy, and with all the strength of eloquent conviction.
Others had thought of it, perhaps only a few would have denied
it. But everything depends on the prominence which is given
to a principle. This is originality, this constitutes power, to
make a truth supreme through the setting which is given it.
Thus it becomes a new truth. Here lay the distinctive dif-
ference between him and his predecessors. It was not
enough to present Christ as a moral Guide, uttering ethical
precepts worthy of obedience ; nor as the Master, imparting
knowledge and conveying information about the spiritual
world. He was indeed the Way, and He was the Truth,
but He was these because He was first the Life.
This principle of the identification of the personality of the
teacher with his message, the culmination of precept and of
truth in a life, might be in danger of becoming a formula,
another shibboleth in religion, an idea abstract and unprofit-
able, unless the secret of the personality of Jesus could be un-
veiled, and become the living possession of humanity. This was
the task, undertaken in the " Influence of Jesus," to present
the idea which inspired Him, the clue to His divine conscious-
ness, and the motive of His acts. This inspiring idea is " the
Fatherhood of God and the childhood of every man in Him."
Upon the race and upon the individual, Jesus is always bring-
ing into more and more perfect revelation the certain truth that
man and every man is the child of God. This is the sum of the
work of the Incarnation. A hundred other statements regarding
it, regarding Him who was incarnate are true; but all statements
concerning Him hold their truth within this truth, that Jesus
came to restore the fact of God's fatherhood to man's knowledge
and to its central place of power over man's life (p. 12).
220 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
There is a change in the tone of the Bohlen Lectures when
compared with the Yale Lectures on the " Teaching of Reli-
gion." Then religion had been defined to be the life of man in
gratitude, obedience, and growing likeness to Christ. Now
it is conceived as the "relation of childhood and fatherhood
between man and God."
Man is the child of God by nature. He is ignorant and rebel-
lious the prodigal child of God ; but his ignorance and rebellion
never break that first relationship. It is always a child ignorant
of his Father; always a child rebellious against his Father.
That is what makes the tragedy of human history, and always
prevents human sin from becoming an insignificant and squalid
thing. To reassert the childhood and fatherhood as an unlost
truth, and to reestablish its power as the central fact of life; to
tell men that they were, and to make them actually to be, the sons
of God that was the purpose of the coming of Jesus and the
shaping power of his life. . . .
It is more important than we often think, that we should grasp
the general idea, the general purpose, of the life of Jesus. The
Gospels become to us a new book when we no longer read them
merely as the anecdotes of the life of one who, with a great, kind
heart, went through the world promiscuously doing good as oppor-
tunities occurred to Him. The drifting and haphazard currents
gather themselves together, and we are borne on with the full and
enthusiastic impulse of a great river which knows itself and knows
the sea it seeks. And when the ruling idea is this which fills the
life of Jesus, it is doubly true that only by clearly seizing it can
we get at the heart and meaning of His life (pp. 16, 17).
It had been the usage in the Evangelical school, in which
Mr. Brooks was reared, to speak only of the baptized or the
regenerate as the children of God. The stress was laid upon
the grace by which the change was accomplished that made a
man a child of God, who before the change was not entitled
to the name. Phillips Brooks did not deny the change, nor
its necessity; he affirmed it in all his preaching, declaring it
to be wrought of God. But he builds upon the antecedent
truth that every man is the child of God by nature. It is
because he is the child by nature that he is capable of becom-
ing the child by grace. In making this truth a first principle
in his teaching, he was not departing from, but rather reaffirm-
ing what the Church of England, followed by the Protestant
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 221
Episcopal Church in America, had asserted in its standards.
There were those in the Anglican Church who had preceded
hiin in building on this truth, Maurice and llobertson,
Ewing, the Bishop of Argyle, and many others. He differed
from them, if he differed at all, in making it the basis of his
powerful appeal in the pulpit, as also in making it the cen-
tral point from which by necessary inference proceeded all
other religious teaching. He brought together nature and
grace, the creation and the redemption, in organic relation-
ship. All men alike everywhere inherited in virtue of their
birthright the privilege to pray, "Our Father, which art in
heaven."
Surely, we cannot be wrong if we say positively that to Christ
himself the truth that man was God's child by nature was the
great fact of man's existence; and the desire that man might be
God's child in reality was the motive of His own life and work
(p. 20).
The merit and power of this idea of divine fatherhood
revealed in the natural order and carried up into the spiritual
is seen first in Christian morality. Ethics have often been
separated from religion. Phillips Brooks identifies them.
The difference between Christian morality and any other which
the world has seen does not consist in the difference of its pre-
cepts, for these can be matched in no other codes ; the sub-
stance and power of moral law does not lie in its commandments,
but in the conception of the commander which breathes through it
and gives it life. The motive of all the injunctions in the
Sermon on the Mount is the Father, first as the standard of
the moral life enforced, and then as the power by which that
standard is pursued and attained. There is nothing abstract and
cold. Everything shines and burns with personal affection. "Be
ye perfect even as your Father which is in Heaven." "Love your
enemies, that ye may be the children of your Father." "Let your
light shine before men that they may glorify your Father."
" Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children
of God." The idea of God which fills the great discourse is the
idea of the father.
Most men have held separately the principles of authority
and reasonableness. Lordship and command have gone with
222 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
kingship, love and care have been associated with the father-
hood. But here they are combined as organically one.
Kingship in its primary conception means fatherhood. The
Sermon on the Mount keeps the combination of reason and
authority, the essential and the arbitrary, which is charac-
teristic of the child's obedience in the earthly household.
I am sure that all of us have felt, as we have read those sacred
chapters of St. Matthew, how exquisitely these two lights play
through them and harmonize with one another, the light that
comes to any duty from the command of God that we should do it,
and the light which the same duty wins because we ourselves per-
ceive that it is the right thing to do (p. 32).
Here is a passage in which Phillips Brooks is at one with
those who have asserted the arbitrary sovereignty of God, as
if in its very arbitrariness lay its charm, Augustine and
Anselm, Calvin and Edwards :
The essence of every beatitude is in the human heart, and yet
the human heart loves to hear the utterance of the beatitudes from
the mouth of God as if they were His arbitrary enactments
(p. 32).
It is the experience of the earthly home wherein is learned
the reconciliation between the arbitrary will and the awaken-
ing mind which calls for the reason of the enactment :
I want you to notice that this interplay of essentialness and
arbitrariness is exactly what characterizes every true home life,
when the children learn truth and receive commandments from
their father. The child's partial and growing perception that it
must be so chimes and harmonizes with the father's injunction
that it shall be so.
All this is so simple and clear, and withal satisfactory, that
one does not at first realize the width and depth of the abyss
he is bridging. This had been the question of the ages,
dividing the schools from the time of Augustine, whether
the arbitrary will in God takes the precedence or the reason-
ing mind? Phillips Brooks, we shall see it more plainly as
we proceed, tends to fuse intellect and will into organic unity ;
but yet if we may distinguish, where he refused to make the
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 223
distinction, at the heart of the mystery of the universe, it is
will, not idea, always the loving will of the Father.
The motive of ethics is the filial sense; and the standard is
likeness to God. The question is raised whether this stan-
dard be intelligible and practicable. The answer is derived
from the first great principle of the Fatherhood of God and
the sonship of every man.
It is in the fact that He is your Father, and that you are His
Child, that the possibility of likeness lies and that the kind of
possible likeness is decreed. You are to be like Him as the child
is like the father, by the attainment of that echo of the Father's
nature which is the child's essential inheritance. You are to be
like him by coining to that expression of Him which is the true
idea of your child life. You are to fulfil the unfulfilled pro-
gramme of your own life, which is involved in the fact that you
are a child of God. . . . Man is to return into the idea of his
own life as the son of God. He is to be equal to his own concep-
tion, as that conception is written in the nature of the Holy Be-
ing from whom he came and to whom he belongs. At least, that
is a standard whose perpetual presence shaped our Lord's treat-
ment of the men and women whom He was trying to restore (p. 36).
He sums up his treatment of the ethical life by dwelling
on some of the perpetual marks of a morality which is the
outgrowth of such a faith. First, there is the duty of senti-
ment, thou shalt love. He notes the exaltation of senti-
ment over action, the action valuable as the utterance of
sentiment. There is danger of weakness here and of senti-
mentality, but in the end is vitality and permanence. No
Christian should be ashamed of this quality of love and duty.
Second, the harmony between the absolute standard of
goodness and the various responsibilities of men, discrimina-
tions which yet do not tamper with the unchangeable sanctity
of righteousness. Third, the attainment of humility by
aspiration and not by depression. And fourth, the morality
of Jesus as involving the only true secret of courage and of
the freedom that comes from courage. Courage is a positive
thing, not merely the absence of fear, but "that compactness
and clear coherence of all a man's faculties and powers which
makes his manhood a single operative unit in the world."
224 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
What is now known as "sociology" had not then attained
the prominence which it has since reached. The late F. D.
Maurice had been the leader in England of a movement called
Christian socialism, destined to become popular among the
English clergy and laity; but with this movement Phillips
Brooks never identified himself. He noted with some sur-
prise and regret, in his later visits to England, that the rising
generation of clergy were turning aside from Maurice's
theology in order to devote themselves more exclusively to
social studies and methods of social reform. He deprecated
the change, for it seemed to him as if it waived the more
vital method, out of which alone social progress must
come, a confession, also, that the theological and religious
problem was insoluble. His own conception of social develop-
ment is here given :
The character of Christ's own reforming spirit was clear
enough. He said that he wanted not to destroy but to fulfil the
agencies which he here found in the world. He never cared to
reshape circumstances until he had regenerated men. He let the
shell stand as he found it until the new life within it could burst it
for itself. It is very wonderful to me to see how thoroughly His
disciples caught His method. They could not have caught it so
completely and so soon if it had not been that it was based on a
large principle, if it had not been more than a special method or
trick. Almost instantly, as soon as the disciples began their work,
they seem to have been filled with a true conception of its divine
method, that not from outside, but from inside; not by the
remodelling of institutions, but by the change of character ; not by
the suppression of vices, but by the destruction of sin, the world
was to be saved. That truth with whose vitality all modern life
has flourished, with its forgetfulness of which all modern history
has always tended to corruption, that truth only dreamed of by a
few spiritual philosophers in the ancient world, it is one of the
marvellous phenomena of human thought, that it should have
leaped full grown to life with the first of Christianity. A few
faint flutterings about the old methods of repression, and the dis-
ciples of Jesus settle at once to the new methods of development
(p. 253).
But Phillips Brooks was alive to the importance of the
social aspect of Christianity, as is seen in his treatment of
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 225
the "Influence of Jesus on the Social Life." lie takes the
Madonna, prominent in ecclesiastical art, as the true type of
the Christian religion, rather than the Sphinx, calm and
eternal in its solitude. 1 Both recognize the feminine nature
of the religious instinct; but the first is Christian because
so truly human; "it has not lost humanity in trying to
interpret Deity." "A father, a mother, and a child are
there in the scene at Bethlehem. No religion which began
like that could ever lose its character." The first unit of
human life is the personality of the newborn child, the second
unit is the family. In showing what Jesus was to his fellow
men, it is most important to recognize the growth in his
consciousness from childhood to manhood mediated by the
human family.
I think that it is a most happy sign of the healthy reality which
the life of Jesus is gaining in men's thoughts in these modern
days, that this idea of the development of His consciousness, the
gradual growth into the knowledge and the use of His own nature,
is no longer an idea that bewilders and shocks the believer in our
Lord's divinity. It is felt to be a necessary part of the belief in
His humanity. . . . The seventeenth century believed the divinity
of Christ, but its belief in the divine Christ was weak, and the
belief in the human Christ was well-nigh lost, and with this loss
I cannot but feel that we must in some way connect the dislike of
Christmas and its observance which then arose and which is but
just now passing entirely away. . . . The whole idea of child-
hood, with its necessary concomitant idea of growth, was a be-
wilderment and almost an offence to that theology whose Christ
was a mysterious and unaccountable being, a true spiritual Mel-
chisedec, without vivid and real human associations, without age,
without realized locality, a dogma, a creed, a fulfilment of pro-
phecy, an adjustment of relations, not a man. It is because
Jesus to-day is intensely real, intensely human to us, that we
welcome and do not dread the truth of increase and development
from childhood to the full strength and stature of a man (pp.
78, 79).
This chapter on the "Influence of Jesus on the Social Life
of Man " is written with the conviction that the key to all
Christ's treatment of men is the constant desire to foster the
1 Cf . vol. i. p. 570, for the first form which is given to this striking compar-
ison. See, also, Influence of Jesus, pp. 73, 74.
VOL. n
226 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
consciousness of divine sonship by intercourse with those who
are fellow sons of the same Father. The incidents in the life
of Christ are brought together with singular felicity in illus-
tration of this truth, that the social nature of man is the pro-
vision at once for his most complete self -consciousness and
for his fullest activity and efficiency. So important is the
social life in the constitution of humanity that it must needs
have its analogue in Deity.
It was by losing His life in the multitude and mass of lives, in
the body of humanity to which He belonged, that Jesus at once
found His own life and found the lives of the lost, whom He had
come to seek. At the very outset He bore witness that not in
absolute singleness, not in elemental unity and perfect solitude of
being, is the highest existence to be found. He recognized at once
in man that multiplicity and power of relationship within the unit
of humanity which makes the richness of our human life. If it
be so, as we believe it is, that in the constitution of humanity we
have the fairest written analogue and picture of the Divine exist-
ence, then shall we not say that the human Christ gave us, in the
value which He set on human relationships, in His social thought
of man, an insight into the essentialness and value of that social
thought of God, which we call the doctrine of the Trinity? May
it not be that only by multiplicity and interior self-relationship
can Divinity have the completest self-consciousness and energy ?
Surely, the reverent and thoughtful eye must see some such mean-
ing when Jesus himself makes the eternal companionship of the
life of Deity the pattern and picture of the best society of the
souls of the earth, and breathes out to His Father these deep and
wondrous words, "As thou Father art in Me and I in Thee that
they all may be one in us."
The subject of the social life of man leads him to the con-
sideration of its relation to the individual life. This is an
ancient and familiar problem whose adjustment varies; the
issue clear, but the application of the principle uncertain.
Throughout the nineteenth century there have not been want-
ing those who have condemned what they call "individual-
ism " as the "source of all our woe." This has been one of
the motives which has strengthened the ecclesiastical reactions
of the century. Upon this point Phillips Brooks held a very
definite opinion, and he has expressed it in no uncertain
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 227
words. He asserts as the fundamental truth that "society-
does not exist for itself, but for the individual; and man goes
into it not to lose, but to find himself " (p. 98). lie then
proceeds to arraign his age for having lost the true principle.
His words have significance in themselves, an added interest
in coming from him :
The ancient society, the heathen society of to-day, whether in
some savage island or in some fashionable parlor, is ready always
to sacrifice the personal nature, the individual soul. As if society
itself were an object worthy of perfecting for its own value ; it
overwhelms individual character and pitilessly sees lives lost in its
great whirlpool. I think the great charge that Jesus, if He spoke
to-day, would bring against our modern social life, our present
society, as it in large part exists, would be this : He would see
its impurity ; He would recognize the falseness that pervades it ;
He would turn away from its sordidness with disappointment;
but, most of all, He would miss in it that power to cultivate the
personal life of the individual by the revelation of the divine side
of human existence which is everywhere His ideal of social living.
It is not always so. There are small groups of men gathered on
such high ground that each of them becomes aware of himself, of
his capacities and duties, in the association with his brethren.
Especially there are friendships, the sympathetic meeting of man'
and man, in which each knows himself as he could not in soli-
tude. But our ordinary life with one another, what, in the lan-
guage of the world, we call society, has so left and lost the sponta-
neousness of natural impulse and so failed to attain the highest
conception of itself as the family of God, it so hangs fast in the
dull middle regions of conventional propriety and selfish expedi-
ency, that it becomes not the fountain, but the grave, of individ-
uality. Men go to it to escape themselves. Men dread it, as
they grow older, for younger men, because its influences seem to
be fatal to original and positive character. Men flee to solitude
to recruit their personality. Nowhere do we find on earth that
picture of society reconstructed by the idea of Jesus, society
around the throne of God, which shines out upon us from the
mysterious promises of the Apocalypse ; the glory of which society
is to be this, that while the souls stand in their vast choruses
of hundreds of thousands, and all chant the same anthems and all
work together in the same transcendent duties, yet each bears the
sacred name written on the flesh of his own forehead, and carries
in his hand a white stone, on which is written a new name which
no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it. It is individuality
228 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
emphasized by company, and not lost in it, because the atmosphere
in which the company is met is the idea of Jesus, which is the
fatherhood of God (pp. 98, 99).
In the latter part of the nineteenth century, and more
especially in the decade of the seventies, there was one sub-
ject uppermost in the consciousness of all thoughtful minds,
how to maintain the goodness of the existing order of
things against pessimistic tendencies which were stimulated
by the teaching of Schopenhauer and Hartmann. For al-
though this teaching came from speculative thinkers and was
presented as a system of philosophy, yet it somehow found a
response in, or we may say penetrated in some mysterious
way into the stratum of the common consciousness. Its influ-
ence may be traced in the pulpit, in modifying the tone of
the preaching, leading to more emphatic and continuous
assertions of the goodness, the love, the beneficent providence
of God. Among the confusing contradictory currents of the
time, this tone of preaching seemed to some as though it were
an effort to soften the religion, to avoid the severer aspects
of the gospel. But its real motive lay in some more posi-
tive purpose, the justification of the ways of God with
men. The quickened sensitiveness of an age in which human-
itarian sentiment had been so dominant as in the nineteenth
century, where sentiment was constantly degenerating into
sentimentality, proved a congenial soil for pessimistic theories
of the universe. Men were becoming more keenly alive to
the evil in nature and in the moral order, so that the balance
was easily disturbed in individual minds to whom the total
picture of the universe presented the seeming predominance
of evil. To meet this kind of doubt, which was generically
different from the form of doubt which preceded it, required
a different tone in the message of the pulpit.
To the new necessity Phillips Brooks responded. Long
before he knew of Schopenhauer and Hartmann he had
become sensitive to the issue. His subtle spirit divined the
coming mood because his own life was deeply rooted in his
age. He encountered the pure pleasure of living more than
most men, but he had also encountered human suffering on
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 229
a large scale in the ministrations of the pastoral charge, as
well as in his own experience. Out of this experience had
been born the discourses of comfort and consolation which,
it has been remarked, form so large a proportion in the first
volume of his sermons. To this subject he now comes anew,
with a more scientific aim, with the qualifications of years of
self-observation and of association with men, with a rare
power of psychological insight and analysis. His third
lecture was entitled the " Influence of Jesus on the Emotional
Life of Man." He had before him the life of Christ as the
ideal expression of humanity; he must enter into the ex-
perience of Jesus by the open door of the common experience
of humanity.
It tells us nothing, he remarks, about a life to say that it
is made up of joy and pain. We discover very early that
happiness may mean much or little ; that before we can deter-
mine the quality of a life we must penetrate the consciousness
that lies beneath the sorrow or the joy. The joy and the pain
are simply the expressions of emotion. Here is a passage
bearing on this point, which is also self-descriptive :
The man who lacks emotion lacks expression. That which is
in him remains within him, and he cannot utter it or make it
influential. And on the other hand the man who lacks emotion
lacks receptiveness. That which other men are, if it does not
make him glad or sorry, if it gives him neither joy nor pain, does
not become his. The emotion of lives is the magnetism that they
emit, something closely associated with their substance and yet
distinct from it, in which they communicate with one another.
There is a condition conceivable in which the emotions should be
so delicately and perfectly true to the quality of him from which
they issue, that they should furnish a perfect medium of expres-
sion. . . . Can any true connection be reliably traced between
the way that a man lives and the joy or sorrow his life emits?
There is something, then, that lies behind the phenomena
of pleasure and pain, and that is experience without regard
to emotions. He now repeats what he had been impressed
with as a student years before :
The words which have become exclusively appropriated to pain
belonged originally to experience without reference to the distress
230 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
or pleasure it might bring. The old Greek and Latin words for
suffering simply meant "to undergo." The very word "suffering"
itself, and "patience" and "submission," and that hard word
"bear " all mean nothing but experience. The first step in study-
ing the life of Jesus is to get back into the actual experience of
His life. His power over men to-day lies in His experience not
essentially because He was happy or sad. His life in a world like
this involved the cross. Yet would His life have still been the
influential power of the world if His years had passed in sunny
joy? The experience is separable from the pain, and in the
experience, not in the pain, His true life abode.
He takes another step in this analysis. The mere expe-
riences considered by themselves do not constitute life. " Our
histories are not our lives. The idea of life is unity. Expe-
riences are manifold." Behind the experiences lies the law
of life God wills these things. God's will, not his own
choice, underlies the acts and contacts that fill up the days
of Jesus. "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me."
That, in the deeper meaning, was the life of Jesus, the law
by which He lived, the will of God.
There is one step more in this analysis of the consciousness
of Jesus.
A law is not the final life. It cannot be. Law is external,
but life is something which may fill every inmost part of a man's
being. ... A law cannot do that. It is not intimate enough.
There must be some inspiring idea, moving the intelligence, firing
the affections, and so possessing the whole man. . . . That idea
is the fatherhood of God to man, which Jesus made known through
the manifestation of His sonship. . . . Ideas make for themselves
laws by their own inherent and divine creativeness. The law of
Christ is obedience to God, but this obedience is fed by the idea
of His sonship. In that idea is the real life of Christ. Behind
this no analysis can go.
All this is beautiful and true. But the writer has a remoter
purpose. He is laying foundations with a view to ultimate
inferences. He is not only meeting for himself and for his
time the passing tendency to pessimism, but also theories of
the Atonement which do not satisfy, and those forms of
mediaeval asceticism whose temporary reappearance was char-
acteristic of the time.
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 231
Jesus always thinks of Himself as undergoing the will of God,
because God is His father. The pain and pleasure which come to
Him in undergoing that will come not simply with their own
inherent qualities of comfort or discomfort, but with the values
they get from that obedience of which they are the signs and con-
sequences. This is the key to all His attitude towards them.
Jesus, with all His sensitiveness to pain and joy, never allows
pain or joy to be either the purpose of life or the test of life.
The sensitiveness of Jesus to pain and joy never leads Him for
a moment to try to be sad or happy with direct endeavor ; nor
is there any sign that He ever judges the real character of Himself
or any other man by the sadness or the happiness that for the
moment covers His life. He simply lives, and joy and sorrow
issue from His living, and cast their brightness and their gloomi-
ness back upon His life; but there is no sorrow and no joy that
He ever sought for itself, and He always kept self-knowledge
underneath the joy or sorrow, undisturbed by the moment's hap-
piness or unhappiness. They were like ripples on the surface of
the stream, made by its flow, and, we are ready to imagine, en-
joyed by the stream that made them, not sought by the stream
for themselves, nor ever obscuring the stream's consciousness of
its deeper currents. The supreme sorrow of the cross was never
6ought because it was sorrowful, and even while He hung in agony
it never obscured the certainty of His own holiness in the great
Sufferer's soul. These are the perpetual characteristics of the
emotional life of Jesus, which our theology has often conjured out
of sight, but which are of unspeakable value, as I think; for a
clear understanding of them puts the Man who suffered and en-
joyed more than any other man that ever lived in a noble and
true relation to His suffering and joy, and makes His pain and
pleasure a gospel to men in their sadness and their gladness every-
where (pp. 156, 157).
The greater part of this chapter is occupied with a sug-
gestive and, though complete in its outline, all too brief an
analysis of the experiences of Jesus in the pleasure and the
suffering they involved. But it is a careful study, too con-
densed to be summarized without injury. The plan of
treatment leads to the consideration (1) of the pain and
pleasures which come inevitably through the medium of the
human body; (2) of the joys and sorrows which have their
roots not in the senses, but in the affections ; (3) of the pleasures
and the sufferings which belong to all devoted ideal natures,
232 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
which come from the acute perception of right and wrong, of
moral fitness or unfitness in the things about us. Under the
third head is the remark that we cannot think of Jesus as a
mere moral enthusiast, because with Him everything is per-
sonal :
It is this personalness of all His moral enthusiasms, as it seems
to me, that keeps us from ever feeling or fearing in Jesus any of
that moral pedantry or what, with a word that has no dignified
equivalent, we call that priggishness which haunts the words of
the moral enthusiasts who kindle at the harmonies and discords of
abstractions, whether they talk as utilitarians or as transcenden-
talists (p. 194).
Under this same head is raised the interesting question
whether there was anything in Christ of what we call the
sense of artistic beauty, or whether He found delight in the
fitness which the aesthetic nature recognizes and loves. In
the treatment of this question is hardly given the answer to
have been expected from one with his own aesthetic tastes.
All the more, therefore, is his attitude remarkable, showing
how carefully he preserved the balance of a true judgment,
and responded to the finest instincts. He mentions the judg-
ments that men have given on this point and their reasons :
"One who was walking towards Calvary had no time in the
intenseness of His moral life for art and its luxuriousness ; "
or again, "He was a Jew in whose nature it was not to gather
happiness from beautiful things;" and still further, "We
may say that though Jesus has made nothing of artistic
beauty, yet His religion has made much of it, and out of
Christianity the highest artistic life has come." While there
is truth in all these statements :
Still the great impression of the life of Jesus as it seems to me
must always be the subordinate importance of those things in
which only the aesthetic nature finds its pleasure. There is no
condemnation of them in that wise, deep life. But the fact
always must remain that the wisest, deepest life that was ever
lived left them on one side, was satisfied without them. And
His religion, while it has developed and delighted in their cul-
ture, has always kept two strong habits with reference to art
which showed that in it was still the spirit of its Master. It has
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 233
always been restless under the sway of any art that did not
breathe with spiritual and moral purpose. Never has Christian
art reached the pure sestheticism of the classics. And in its more
earnest moods, in its reformations, in its puritanisms, it has
always stood ready to sacrifice the choicest words of artistic
beauty for the restoration or preservation of the simple majesty
of righteousness, the purity of truth, or the glory of God (p. 201).
The Bohlen Lectures culminate with the last chapter, in
which is treated the influence of Jesus on the intellectual life
of man. To understand Phillips Brooks one must dwell upon
what he here tells us ; for while his tone is still impersonal,
none the less is he disclosing his own method of self -culture
and his distinctive attitude towards the theologies of his time.
All through the chapter we move in the atmosphere of great-
ness. Only from a great soul could it have proceeded. But
it is the atmosphere of poetry and beauty as well. The ease,
the grace, the repose, the transparency of the style, the con-
sciousness of mastery, the sense of finality, the irresistible
appeal, these are the accompaniments of a strain of divine
melody. This chapter must be read, it cannot be described.
But some things may be said about it.
In the first place he refuses to give the intellect in man the
supremacy when taken by itself. He has said this before,
but now repeats it with deeper conviction. In speaking of
the Person of Christ, he asks the questions, How does Christ
compare in intellectual power with other men ? How did He
estimate the intellect? Was His intellect sufficient to ac-
count for the unique position He holds in the world's history
as the mightiest force that has controlled the development of
humanity ?
He finds the answer by turning to the Fourth Gospel, which
gives us most that we know about the mind of Jesus. It is
to the other Gospels what Plato is to Xenophon. He does
not pause to allude to questions of criticism, when it was
written, or whether it was written by John. He anticipates
the decision of scholars ; he knows that the picture in itself
is its own vindication. It is the intellectual Gospel, because
in it there is one constantly recurring word. That word is
"truth," which is distinctly a word of the intellect.
234 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
He whose favorite word is truth must be a man who values
intellectual life, who is not satisfied unless his own intellect is
living, and who conceives of his fellow men as beings in whom the
intellect is an important and valuable part. This must belong to
any habitual use of the word at all ; and so, when we find it ap-
pearing constantly upon the lips of Jesus, in the record of that
one of His disciples who understood Him best, we feel that we
know this at least about Him, that He cared for the intellect
of man, that He desired to exercise some influence upon it, that
He was not satisfied simply to win man's affection by His kind-
ness, nor to govern man's will by His authority, but that He also
wished to persuade man's mind with truth (p. 213).
He takes up the word "truth " as it is used in the Fourth
Gospel, finding that in every instance it is employed in a
sense different from that of the schools. In its scholastic
use it is detached from life and made synonymous with
knowledge. But knowledge is no word of Jesus. With
information for the head alone, detached from its relations
to the whole nature, Jesus has no concern. Truth was some-
thing which set the whole man free. It was a moral thing,
for he who does not receive it is not merely a doubter, but a
liar. Truth was something which a man could be, not merely
something which a man could study and measure by walking
around it on the outside. The objective and the subjective
lose themselves in each other. Truth can be known only
from the inside ; it is something moral, something living, some-
thing spiritual. It is not mere objective unity ; it must have
in it the elements of character. "To this end was I born,"
says Jesus, "and for this cause came I into the world, that I
should bear witness to the truth. Every one that is of the
truth heareth my voice." And upon these and similar utter-
ances of Jesus is made this comment :
You see how the air grows hazy with the meeting of the sub-
jective and objective conceptions. They are words of character.
A "man of truth " is something more than a man who knows the
truth, whose intellect has seized it ; that, we are sure, would be
the very tamest paraphrase of the suggestive words. It would
take the whole life and depth out of them. A "man of truth "
is a man into all whose life the truth has been pressed till he is
full of it, till he has been given to it, and it has been given to
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS i 3S
him, he being always the complete being whose unity is in that
total of moral, intellectual, and spiritual life which makes what
we call character. He is the man of whom Pilate's prisoner said,
"He hears my voice." No wonder that Pilate, hearing a new
sound in an old familiar word, felt all his old questions stir again
within him, and asked with an interest which was too weary to be
called a hope, "What is truth? " (p. 218).
From this use of the word "truth " is deduced the intel-
lectual portrait of Christ, if we may call it such. The great
fact concerning the intellectual life in Jesus is this, that " in
Him the intellect never works alone. You never can separate
its workings from the complete operations of the whole
nature. He never simply knows, but always loves and re-
solves at the same time. . . . What God knows is one and
the same with the love with which He loves and the resolve
with which He wills."
We reach now the conclusion of the whole matter. When
Phillips Brooks spoke of God's knowledge as one with His
love and will, he had in view the definition of the schoolmen
that God is actus purus. Man was to be known by contrast ;
in this respect the human had no likeness to the divine.
The intellect and the will worked separately in man, and the
difference could always be distinguished, so that it was easy
to divide men into classes, and label them according to their
opinions, men of intellect and men of action. Against
this inference Phillips Brooks is making a protest. It
was with Jesus as it was with God. It should be the same
with all men, in this respect they should follow Christ. It
is not an impossible divine ideal, but rather the feasible hu-
man standard. He illustrates the possibility of this organic
fusion of intellect with the affections and the will by an
appeal to experience, calling it the true unity of a man.
When we see how constantly it is the crudity of an unappropri-
ated, unassimilated intellectuality that disappoints us in intellec-
tual people ; when we find ourselves turning away from a learned
man whose knowledge has not been pressed into character ; when
we find that the action of the intellect forcing itself upon our
notice because it is working out of proportion to or out of har-
mony with the other parts of a man's nature, his conscience, his
236 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
affections, and his active powers, always dissatisfies and makes us
restless, and, with all the interest which we may feel in him, does
not let us think that we have found the fullest and most perfect
man, when we see all this, it becomes clear to us what a dis-
tinguishing thing in Jesus was this unity of life in which the
special action of the intellect was lost. We catch something of
the spirit with which His disciple, fondly recurring years after-
wards to the bright days when He first knew Jesus, twice used the
same description of Him: "The word was made flesh and dwelt
among us full of grace and truth." "The law was given by
Moses, but by Jesus Christ came grace and truth."
It is not the intellectual man as such, not the man in whom
intellect stands crudely forth as the controlling element in life,
that other men are drawn to most. The greatest men that ever
lived are those in whom you cannot separate the mental and moral
lives. You cannot say just what part of their power and success
is due to a good heart and what to a sound understanding. And
in every circle there are apt to appear some persons of great influ-
ence and great attractiveness, of whom you never think as being
specially intellectual ; it startles you ; but as you think about your
wonder, you discover that it does not come from an absence of the
intellectual life in those who are thus spoken of, but from the
fact that the intellectual part of them is so blended and lost in
the rounded and symmetrical unity of their life that you have
never been led to think of it by itself. All this is very frequently
true concerning women, whose unity of life is often more apparent
than that of men (pp. 220, 223).
He finds confirmation of this unity of life in those moments
of exaltation when a man realizes himself in supreme degree,
and the "intellectual action, without being quenched, nay,
burning at its very brightest, blends with the quickened
activity of all the being, and is not even thought of by itself."
So it is when death comes near, that with our truest, profound-
est thoughts about the great mystery, we hardly know that we are
thinking at all. In these and similar conditions, the intellect
works vigorously, but it works in the midst of a being all quick-
ened and exalted together, and so it is lost in the large action of
the whole. This is the meaning of Lessing's remark, "He
who does not lose his reason in certain things has none to lose."
Or again in the lines of Wordsworth :
In such access of mind, in such high hour
Of Visitation from the Living God,
Thought was not ; in enjoyment it expired.
jet. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 237
In the further exposition of this principle, he turns to the
comparison of Jesus with Socrates. It had been in his mind
as he began the book to make this the climax of his treat-
ment ; he comes to it finally with the momentum which had
been growing with each successive chapter. He would take
the last five chapters of the Gospel of St. John and place
them by the side of the story of the death of Socrates which
Plato has written for us in the "Phaedo." "Nowhere could
the essential difference as well as the likeness of the two great
teachers become more apparent." To this comparison he
invites "the critics who loosely class Jesus and Socrates to-
gether," showing them where their classification fails, where
the line runs beyond which Socrates cannot go, "beyond which
the nature of Jesus sweeps out of our sight."
We recall in this mature expression of his thought his own
youthful devotion to Socrates. We go back to the days when
he was a boy of fifteen, just leaving the Latin School, for the
first utterance of this enthusiasm. It had been Socrates,
the "innocent martyr for truth," who had fired him with zeal
in the immortal quest. Two sonnets entitled "Socrates" he
had written while at the Virginia seminary. The "Phaedo"
was then his favorite dialogue, which he exercised himself in
translating into his best English. When he took his first
journey to the Old World in 1865, he seems to have given an
almost equal place to Athens and Jerusalem in the enthusiasm
which was stirred within him, as he gazed with his own eyes
upon the sacred cities. But now for twenty years he had
been studying the life of Jesus, and though he had lost
none of his reverence and admiration for Socrates, there had
grown up in his soul a higher and a different reverence,
which is mingled with love and grateful obedience. Then he
was in the intellectual stage of his development, now he has
passed more completely into the sphere of the spiritual. We
will not spoil the beautiful comparison which he has drawn
at length by attempts at quotation or condensation. But
here is the concluding paragraph :
I know not what to say to any man who does not feel the dif-
ference. I can almost dream what Socrates would say to any man
2 3 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
who said that there was no difference between Jesus and him.
But how shall we state the difference? One is divine and human;
the other is human only. One is Redeemer; the other is philos-
opher. One is inspired, the other questions. One reveals, and
the other argues. These statements doubtless are all true. And
in them all there is wrapped up this, which is the truth of all the
influence of Jesus over men's minds, that where Socrates brings
an argument to meet an objection, Jesus always brings a nature to
meet a nature, a whole being which the truth has filled with
strength, to meet another whole being which error has filled with
feebleness (p. 243).
It had been part of Mr. Brooks's intention to show the
influence of Jesus, not only by the presentation of His ruling
idea, but by tracing its presence and power in His disciples
and then in the actual history of the world. The scheme of
course was too large. Yet he could not resist in closing to
give a brief summary, where he hints at what he would have
done had the opportunity permitted :
A poetic conception of the world we live in, a willing accept-
ance of mystery, an expectation of progress by development, an
absence of fastidiousness that comes from the possibilities of all
humanity, and a perpetual enlargement of thought from the arbi-
trary into the essential, these, I think, are the intellectual
characteristics which Christ's disciples gathered from their Mas-
ter; and I think that we can see that these characteristics make,
as we set them together, a certain definite and recognizable type
of mental life, one that we should know from every other if we met
to-day a man in whom it was embodied. It is a type in which,
according to the description which I tried to give, the intel-
lect, while it is plentifully present, does not stand alone and force
itself upon our thought. It is a type in which character is the
result that impresses us, character holding in harmony all the
elements of the nature, rather than intellectuality, which is the
predominant presence of one element. It is a type in which
righteousness and reason so coincide and cooperate that you can-
not separate them, and do not want to (p. 259).
This book, therefore, the "Influence of Jesus," may be called
the Apologia of Phillips Brooks. It is the defence of him-
self and of his method, the exposition of his ideal of life, his
final answer to the question how to meet the doubt, the
weakness, the skepticism of the time. Although he seemed,
iET. 43] THE INFLUENCE OF JESUS 239
and indeed he was, in such entire sympathy with his age, yet
he also saw its defect and raised against it one mighty pro-
test. A one-sided, exaggerated intelleetualism was the evil
which had infected every department of human inquiry,
including the things of religion. He pointed out the remedy,
the influence of Jesus tended to the restoration of a lost
symmetry. This was the result of his experience in the first
ten years of his Boston ministry, which gives to his preach-
ing in Boston a different tone from the Philadelphia life.
Then he had delighted in exploiting the rich allegorical im-
port of human life and human history, with Christ as its
centre and interpreter. The Boston ministry led him to
proclaim the stronger Christ, who was powerful enough to sub-
due the world to Himself. There are hints in this book that
another change was awaiting him, when he would pass into
an ampler and diviner sphere. At times he seems to be tempted
to give the primacy to the will. When he speaks of the obe-
dience of Christ, it is clear that he is tending to divinize
obedience as the potent faculty in Christ, through which His
inspiration came, through which came also the wisdom of
God. It is in the sphere of the will that the intimacy is
closer than in the intellect. Through the perfect obedience
of Christ comes the consciousness of oneness with the Father.
Everywhere the inference is that perfect obedience of Christ
means not subordination or inferiority, but coequality with
the Father. With these eloquent words he closes the book :
I dare not, I do not hope that I have succeeded ; but I hope
that I have not wholly failed. For to me what I have tried to
say is more and more the glory and the richness and the sweet-
ness of all life. The idea of Jesus is the illumination and the
inspiration of existence. Without it moral life becomes a barren
expediency, and social life a hollow shell, and emotional life a
meaningless excitement, and intellectual life an idle play or stupid
drudgery. Without it the world is a puzzle, and death a horror,
and eternity a blank. More and more it shines the only hope of
what without it is all darkness. More and more the wild, sad,
frightened cries of men who believe nothing, and the calm, ear-
nest, patient prayers of men who believe so much that they long
for perfect faith, seem to blend into the great appeal which Philip
2 4 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879
of Bethsaida made to Jesus at the Last Supper, where so much of
our time in these four hours has been spent, "Lord, show us the
Father, and it sufficeth us." And more and more the only answer
to that appeal seems to come from the same blessed lips that
answered Philip, the lips of the Mediator Jesus, who replies,
"Have I been so long with you and yet thou hast not known me?
He that hath seen me hath seen the Father."
CHAPTER IX
1879-1880
VISIT TO PHILADELPHIA. CONVENTION SERMON. CORRE-
SPONDENCE. THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER. SERMON BE-
FORE THE QUEEN. WESTMINSTER ABBEY. THE NEW
RECTORY
The lectures on the "Influence of Jesus " were delivered in
Philadelphia in the month of February, 1879. On the second
day of December, 1878, he had written to Rev. W. N. Mc-
Vickar that only one of the lectures was completed, "and
is so bad that the others cannot be worse; so I have a free
mind and push on, and will be ready." Again he writes to
McVickar regarding the lectures :
February 8, 1879.
I was just putting the last words to the last page as your letter
came in. There could not have been a better moment. Yester-
day it would have seemed like a mockery to talk about the delivery
of what looked as if it never would be written. And now I hate
to think that I must ever read them again, and especially that I
must read them to anybody whom I care about. . . . But I have
one or two suggestions to make which are serious.
1. The lectures are an hour long, each of them. Can it not be
arranged that there shall be little or no service?
2. They are not in the least the things for a popular audience.
Not that they are learned, but they are quiet and dry. I want to
have them not in the great Church, but in your Lecture Room
which will make it much easier for me to read them. I think
you will agree with me in this. At any rate I wish it so, and I
am sure you will oblige me.
If you will do both of these things for me I will preach all day
for you at Holy Trinity. If not, I will see you at Jericho before
I open my mouth in the afternoon.
And then I want you to let me make a very quiet visit and not
go out to dinner anywhere but at Cooper's. I don't feel up
to parties, and I want to see you. Won't you say so to any kind
vol. n
242 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879-80
people who want to arrange dinners and breakfasts before I come,
or who desire to invite me when I am there.
All this sounds foolish, but the fact is I have had a dreadful
winter. These poor lectures have been worried through in all
the distress and bewilderment of Father's death. I have n't
known what I was writing half the time. Now I want to have a
quiet, restful time, and I shall come trusting your good love and
tact to get it for me. . . .
I count upon my visit more than I can tell you. I hope
Tiffany will come. Tell him he needn't go to the lectures.
James Franks is doubtful, but I hope to bring him. Give my
kindest regards to your sister, and expect me Monday night.
Always affectionately yours,
P. B.
This visit to Philadelphia was an event to Phillips Brooks,
to his former parishioners, and to the city. Everything con-
nected with it moved him strongly. To the memory of
Mr. John Bohlen he paid this tribute in his opening lec-
ture :
The subject I have chosen would not have been unwelcome to
my dear friend of years ago, whose honored name this lectureship
bears, and in whose behalf I shall in some sort speak. For of the
men whom I have known, there has been none whose daily moral
life, whose association with his fellow men, whose meeting of the
joy and pain of living, and whose ways of thought and study have
been more in the power of the idea of Jesus, more inspired by
his Lord's revelation than his were, more obedient and trustful to
his Lord's authority in order that he might become the son of
God.
It is needless to say that the great church was thrown open
for the purpose, and not the lecture room, as he had de-
manded. How the lectures were received, and how he ap-
peared as he gave them, is told in a newspaper paragraph of
the day. The tendency to describe his personal appearance is
here again manifest, as though the man and his utterance
were inseparable.
Rev. Phillips Brooks of Boston lectured last night in the
Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity, at Nineteenth and Walnut
streets, to an audience that filled every pew in that vast church
and left scarcely any sitting room in the galleries. It has been
jet. 43-44] VISIT TO PHILADELPHIA 243
ten years since lie left his pastorate of that church to take charge
of a parish in Boston. ... A tall, broad-shouldered man, with a
perfectly smooth, open face, strong lines about the mouth, bright
expressive eyes and dark hair, was the personnel of the man who
came out of the vestry room with Mr. McVickar last evening at
eight o'clock, and after the singing of a hymn and the delivery of
a brief prayer ascended the high pulpit steps. There was no
pause for preparation after he got into the pulpit. He placed
the manuscript before him and began the lecture. The delivery
of the man was remarkable. He announced the title and intro-
duction in words that came so rapidly that it required the most
concentrated attention to keep up with him. He spoke for about
an hour. During all that time his tremendous energy of delivery
kept up at the same rapid pace, reminding one of a torrent rush-
ing over rocks. The words seemed not to flow out to the audi-
ence, but to shoot out. The ground he got over in an hour was
equal to that of three ordinary lectures. And when he closed,
the attention of the audience was as rapt as ever. Occasionally
there would be a stumbling over a word. Then his head would jerk
to this side and that impatiently, as though the word must come,
despite all impediments. He kept his eyes on the paper almost
continuously. Probably four times, certainly not more than half
a dozen, he gave a glance out towards the audience. He seemed
to lose himself entirely in his subject. His eyes were bent on the
manuscript, his whole expression, his features, the twitching of
his facial muscles, showed the tremendous concentration of energy
put into the effort. Here was an absence of all self-conscious-
ness; his hearers lost sight of the man and only saw the ideas,
rapid, whirling, and tremendous in their force of utterance, keep-
ing up the idea of the torrent all the time.
As to any attempts to save him from the invasion of his
friends, while he was in Philadelphia, they were futile. If
he could not go to them, they came to him. When he re-
turned to Boston he wrote to McVickar, "I counted upon
this visit, after this sad and dreary winter, more than ever
I did on any other, and it has been to me far more than I
had counted on." But he came back tired and somewhat
dispirited. He was obliged to return earlier than he had
intended in order to officiate at a wedding, and for a moment
brides and bridegrooms lost their attractiveness to him.
Boston suffered in his eyes when he thought of the happy
days in Philadelphia, "And now here I am back here, and
a 4 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879-80
it 's snowing, and I 'm lonely; there 's work to be done and
it 's doleful generally."
In March of this year he accepted the honor of an election
to the Massachusetts Historical Society. There began at
this time an interesting correspondence with M. Nyegaard, a
clergyman of the Keformed Church in France, whose parish
was at St. Quentin (Aisne), and who had been greatly im-
pressed by the "Lectures on Preaching: "
Le 4 Avril, 1879.
Permettez moi de vous dire, Monsieur, malgre' le peu de gout
que vous devez avoir pour les compliments, que vos belles confe-
rences m'ont fait du bien, et de vous en remercier. Elles seront
de"sormais sur mon bureau, a cote" de la Th^ologie pastorale de
Vinet et j'dspere qu' elles deviendront comme le manuel de mon
ministere.
A second letter from M. Nyegaard asked for permission to
translate the lectures into French, which was granted, but
the translation was not published till 1883. Somewhat
later the "Lectures on Preaching" were translated into
Dutch. There came an urgent invitation from the editor
of "The Atlantic Monthly," who explained his purpose
by saying that he had just been reading the sermon, al-
ready referred to, on the "Present and Future Faith. " A
series of articles of the general tendency of that sermon
would find their best audience if clothed in literary form.
But any utterance from him would be welcome, secular or
religious. To this and other invitations of a similar kind
he gave a firm refusal. He speaks of Lent as going on most
pleasantly, "I have no impatience for it to be over." He
was then preaching as usual in many places, three times on
Sunday, and often during the week. He gave the prefer-
ence to invitations from his two brothers, for the family
claim was the strongest, and the tie of blood the deepest in
his nature. Easter week he spent in New York. He was at
New Haven in April to lecture again before the students of
the Divinity School. He seemed to be doing the work of an
evangelist, preaching in various towns in churches of his
own denomination, but almost as often in churches of other
jet. 43-44] CONVENTION SERMON 245
names. There were certain Congregational churches where
it seemed to be a settled arrangement that he should appear
once at least every year.
At the annual convention of the Episcopal Church in
Massachusetts, which met at St. Paul's Church, Boston,
May 14, Phillips Brooks was the preacher. The words of
his text were the commission of Christ to his disciples, "As
my Father hath sent me, even so send I you." In the fa-
miliar association of these words with theories of ecclesiastical
organization, or with the exclusive authority of the ministry
in some one particular church, he finds a meaning had been
read into them which they did not originally contain. His
method of overcoming the wrong interpretation and recom-
mending the true was to dwell on the purpose for which
Christ had been sent by the Father and in turn commissioned
his disciples. The sermon was one for the times, cutting
athwart current ecclesiastical tendencies. From the most
characteristic words of Christ, four passages were selected as
heads for the divisions of the sermon :
I am not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.
It seems to me that among all the warnings that the Church of
Christ needs to-day there can be none that she more imperatively
needs than this, not to teach doctrine save as a means ; not
to elaborate and strengthen her own organization save as a
means ; but to convert, and rescue sinners. The Church so easily
forgets her ends in her means. We are too apt to speak in
church to artificial sins which the great universal human con-
science does not recognize, to rebuke the improprieties that are
not wrong, and to denounce the honest errors which good men
may hold, and yet be good, as if they were the first enemies with
which we and our Gospel had to fight.
I am not come to destroy but to fulfil. All earnest life which
has not reached clear religious faith, all doubt, however radical,
which at its heart is truthful and not scornful, all eager study of
the marvellous world of nature as if the final facts of our exist-
ence must be somehow hidden in her bosom, all glorifying of hu-
manity, as if it were an object for our worship, all struggle to
develop society as if by its own self-purification earth could be
turned into heaven, all this is to the Church to-day what Ju-
daism was to Christ, what He came not to destroy but to fulfil.
246 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879-80
. . . The Christian church has made and makes to-day too much
of settled views of Truth which may be dead, too little of the
search for truth which must be living. One trembles when he sees
the Church in any way separating itself from the pure instincts
and from the earnest thought of men, and counting itself the
enemy to destroy them instead of the missionary to enlighten
them.
He that hath seen me hath seen the Father. There are mean-
ings in these words that can never be true of any other beside
Him, not even of the Church which is to perpetuate His mission
in the world. But if they declare what was the great truth of
the Incarnation, that a perfectly pure obedient humanity might
utter divinity, might be the transparent medium through which
even God might show Himself, then is there not an everlasting
sense in which the words of Jesus may become the words of the
Church and the declaration of its highest privilege. . . . When
one feels this, he earnestly deprecates, he deeply dreads the
"clericalism " to which the church is always tending. It is not by
the truth the clergy teach, it is by the lives the Christian people
live that the church must be the witness of the Father.
He that is not against us is with us. They are the words of
one to whom ends are more than means, to whom not regularity
of method but Tightness of aim and energy of purpose is the
important thing. It would be interesting if we could know what
became of these irregular casters out of devils in the Lord's name.
By and by we hear no more of them. They seem to have disap-
peared. They have not been aggravated and exasperated into a
sect by the insistence of Jesus that they should not work for Him
unless they worked side by side with Andrew and with Peter and
exactly in their way. It would not be a surprise, if we could
look into the company about the cross, or into the company which
gathered after the Ascension to wait for the full commission of
the Spirit, to see some of these workers there drawn into the fel-
lowship of Jesus by His sympathy with the irregular, spontaneous
effort they had made to do some of His work in His name.
To the Eev. Arthur Brooks he wrote :
Boston, May 25, 1879.
I wish we wrote of tener, but I suppose we shall always go on
pretty much in this way. One of these days when I get a little
further into decline perhaps I may get a country parish near New
York, succeed Wildes at Riverdale or something, and then we
shall see each other all the time. Wildes was here the other day
at our Diocesan Convention, supposed to be attending to some
jet. 43-44] A SERMON AT HARVARD 247
obscure and complicated business about tbe next Church Congress.
It did us all good to see him, and owing either to his presence or
Jim's absence in New York the Convention went off very tamely.
There was one bit of a breeze at last between the Bishop and the
Advent Fathers, but it blew over. There will be no persecution
of Ritualism here like the pretty mess they have made in Penn-
sylvania. I thought that Dr. Hare was the sensiblest creature
there. But people can never seem to see beyond their noses' ends,
nor anticipate that what they break other men's heads with to-
day may break their heads to-morrow. . . . We, that is William
and I, have a little house down at Cohasset on the Jerusalem road
where we go in two or three weeks, and where you will find us
pretty nearly any time before October. Come down and look at us.
To think that Garrison is dead ! What a chapter of History
that closes.
He was preaching often at this time in Appleton Chapel,
Cambridge, before the students of the University. One of
the sermons which he delivered in May, 1879, exhibited his
power in extraordinary manner, a sermon to the young from
the text, "Thou . . . makest me to possess the iniquities of
my youth." Some special circumstance had roused him to
write it. His subject was the unity of life, the continuous-
ness of all its experiences. There was no lurid picture of
endless torment, with which he sought to alarm his hearers,
but even Jonathan Edwards in his most terrific discourses
could never have produced a more intense or fearful impres-
sion. It was very rare with him to preach such sermons, but
in this case the sermon was consistent throughout, the dark
side of life under the consciousness of sin. This is a passage
which may serve to illustrate its purpose, but no extract can
represent its power :
It is when some great trouble comes to you, the death of your
friend, the failure of your business, the prospect of your own
death, then it is you are dismayed to find that under the changed
habits of your life you are the same man still, and that the sins
of your college days are in you even now. This is what makes
men dread any great event in life so strangely. It brings back
the past which they want to forget, or rather it compels them to
see that the past is still there in the present. It is when you fire
a cannon over the pond that the dead body which is sunk there
rises.
248 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879-80
It was not invective which marked the sermon, but through-
out calm self -dissection of the conscience, and an intimate
penetration of experiences unspoken. It ended with this
sentence, "I know that there are words of comfort which I
have not turned aside to speak to-day."
He was asked to include the sermon in his printed volumes,
but he declined. It might do, he replied, to preach such a
sermon occasionally, when judgment without mercy was the
theme, but he would not give it a place in the open record.
The first day of July was the twentieth anniversary of his
ordination to the deaconate. To one of his classmates, then
rector of St. Andrew's Church, Philadelphia, he writes:
Boston, July 1, 1879.
Dear Paddock, ... Do you know, old fellow, that it was
twenty years ago to-day, Friday, July 1, 1859, that we were
ordained deacons in the old Chapel at Alexandria? In the morn-
ing at eight o'clock we had a Class Prayer Meeting in George
Strong's room, at nine we met Bishop Meade in Dr. Sparrow's
study, and at eleven the service began in the Chapel. Kidder and
Townsend and Strong and you and I were ordained, and a certain
Gibson of Petersburg preached the sermon. Twenty years ago,
Old Fellow! We must be pretty nearly halfway through our
active ministry, and what do you suppose that the next twenty
years will bring? Nobody in the old Class has gone yet, and we
have been something to each other, some of us, all this score of
years. You know we have George Strong back in the preaching
ministry. He is at New Bedford, and I see him every few weeks.
Good-by, old fellow, and God bless you always.
P. B.
He replies to an invitation from Rev. Eeuben Kidner to
make an address at the meeting of the Eastern Convocation
to be held in Ipswich :
Boston, August 27, 1879.
I will be with you on the evening of the 17th. Please state the
subject on which you wish me to speak, as you think best, only
don't say anything in it about "workingmen." I like working-
men very much and care for their good, but I have nothing dis-
tinct or separate to say to them about religion, nor do I see how
it will do any good to treat them as a separate class in this mat-
ter, in which their needs and duties are just like other men's.
jet. 43-44] CORRESPONDENCE 249
In the fall of the year he made the acquaintance of Dean
Plumptre, who was visiting this country with his wife. He
had come with letters of introduction to Mr. Brooks, desirous
to hear him preach after having read his sermons. But the
case looked differently to Mr. Brooks, and he persuaded the
distinguished visitor to preach for him at Trinity Church on
Sunday, September 24. In October he was in New York,
preaching at Grace Church, morning and afternoon, for his
friend, Dr. Henry C. Potter, and in the evening a special
sermon at St. Thomas's. While there he attended the
Clericus when Dr. Channing was the subject of discussion.
He gives us a glimpse of the Boston Clericus in letters to
Rev. Arthur Brooks, where he also speaks of declining an
invitation to the New England dinner in Brooklyn, N. Y.,
commemorating the landing of the Pilgrims at Plymouth.
November 4, 1879.
We had a meeting of the Club last night, and I told them all
about Channing and how we talked of him at Washburn's. We
were n't very intellectual, but then we were a very jolly crowd
and smoking was allowed, which was more than we did at Wash-
burn's. I have had a letter from Bishop [Horatio] Potter trans-
mitting the letter of the City Missionary, and ending with this
remarkable aspiration, "I hope that you are none the worse for
the exposure of your journey and the effort of Sunday evening
at St. Thomas's." Does he think that I, too, am eighty years
old?
Boston, December 1, 1879.
You will have to say to your friend who sends me the kind
invitation that it will be quite impossible for me to come to the
New England Dinner this year, just as it was last. The fact is
that Christmas and these Puritans interfere with one another now
just as much as they ever did. I believe that they landed just
before Christmas on purpose, so that the celebration of their land-
ing might forever interfere with the preparation of Christmas
Trees and Christmas sermons. So I can't come. I 'd rather
like to, all but the having to speak. That spoils a dinner.
Next Wednesday we are going to have a time here because Dr.
Holmes is seventy years old. All the folks that ever wrote for
"The Atlantic Monthly," and some of us that didn't, are going
to breakfast with him at the Brunswick.
250 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1879-80
On his forty-fourth birthday he writes to Mrs. E. J. Hall
what was for him a long letter :
175 Maklbokough Stkeet, Boston, December 13, 1879.
My dear Elise, I do not want Christmas to come and go
without sending you a word of greeting in your new home. I
thanked you truly for the note you sent me so soon after you were
in Vienna. I was exceedingly pleased to find that the new life
had not blotted an old friend out of your mind. And I dare to
think that Christmas will bring back the life at home and the
life at the Church so that you will not be sorry to get a word or
two. I am glad to say that there was not a murmur of objec-
tion about your wedding, and I shall always be glad to have had
the pleasure of welcoming Dr. Hall to Trinity. Everything there
looks just as you so well remember it. The people come and go
and I hope grow better. Certainly their minister enjoys it more
and more every year. The Sunday-school has its multitude of
small people who never seem to fail, and I think they never looked
more bright and happy. Certainly they never were more numer-
ous than this year. We are just getting a new organ for their
room to take the place of the Cabinet Organ on which you have
so often kindly played.
I think you must look back on all the days of work with real
pleasure and gratitude. John Foster and the rest of them I dare
say are getting a little bit dim in the New Lights. They are
very hard to see from Vienna. But you were very much to them,
and I think they must have been very much to you. One does
not take so deep an interest as you had in them for so long, and
then ever lose it entirely out of his life. It is like a minister's
first parish, which he never loses or ceases to feel, however much
he cares for the other parishes that come afterwards.
I envy you Vienna and its brightness. No place seemed to me
more full of sunshine than it was when I saw it thirteen years
ago. But perhaps it has dull days like other places. I wonder
if you have met Dr. Mixter and his wife, who are in Vienna for
the same purpose which takes you and Dr. Hall there. She was
married in Trinity a couple of months before you, and has been at
the Church ever since I came there when she was a child (Miss
Galloupe). Do find them out and give them welcome.
If you ever come across either of the two books which I have
just been reading, I am sure that you will like it. One is the
"Life of Thomas Erskine of Linlathen, " and the other is the
"Life of Bishop Ewing " of Argyle and the Isles. The first is
rather a rare book and a little hard to get ; the other you may
find. Both of them were noble Christian men of the best type,
at. 43-44] CORRESPONDENCE 251
fair and true, "without partiality and without hypocrisy," Broad
Churchmen of the nohlest sort. Every now and then we get a
glimpse in the lives of such men of what Christianity yet has to
do for the individual and for the race hefore its work shall he
complete. I think I grow to have more and more tolerance for
every kind of Christian except one, and he is the Christian who
thinks that his Christian faith is done, that there is nothing
greater for it to do than it has done already. He does not helieve
in the Second Advent, which is a true doctrine of the Gospel, not
ahout a fantastic idea of a new incarnation and of a visihle Christ
in Palestine, hut ahout a power of Christ over the destinies and
institutions and hearts of men more real and spiritual than any
that any age has seen yet. But I must not preach to you, and I
do not know that I ever before wrote a letter eight pages long. I
only wanted to assure you that I did not forget you at Christmas
time, and to make sure that you should not quite forget me. I send
my kindest and most cordial regards to your husband, and with
all best wishes for God's truest blessings I am, my dear Elise,
Your sincere friend,
Phillips Brooks.
In replying to a letter from Mrs. Ward (Elizabeth Stuart
Phelps), who had thanked him for the "Lectures on Preach-
ing," he says:
December 22, 1879.
I am so strange still to authorship that I do not realize that I
have actually written books, and any allusion to them always
embarrasses me.
To the Rev. George A. Strong he sends his thanks for a
Christmas present of Clifford's writings:
December 23, 1879.
Thank you, dear George. I have wanted to see Clifford, heathen
though he be, for he is about the best specimen apparently of
these men who are telling us that we have no souls, and that there
is no God. They must pass away some time if anything that we
believe is true. But they will surely leave some mark upon the
Faith which they so patiently and ingeniously tiy to murder, and
which will outlive them all. There is something almost pic-
turesquely like our .muddled time in Clifford being made a Christ-
mas present of. I accept the omen. And I accept your kind
good wishes, as I have all the way along for these last twenty
years, and thank you ever more and more. This year is especially
bright in that it has brought us more near together, after these
long years when I never saw you.
252 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
There are some letters written in a hurried, anxious tone
from Phillips Brooks to his brothers Arthur and John, in the
early weeks of 1880, speaking of the illness of their mother.
On the 1st of February she died, at the age of seventy-two.
To the letters of condolence which he received from his
friends he replied, but not with the same freedom from re-
serve as when he spoke of the loss of his father. His grief
went deeper. A gentleness and softness of manner came
over him, the tenderness which can find its best expression
not in words, but in the features, reflecting unspeakable
moods in the soul. He went heavily, as one that mourneth
for his mother.
To Dr. Weir Mitchell he wrote :
My mother has been the centre of all the happiness of my life.
Thank God she is not less my pride and treasure now.
To Mr. Cooper :
I did not know I could ever be so much like a child again, but
to-night the world seems very desolate and lonely. All my life
I have feared and dreaded what has come this week. And now
that she is with God, I seem to know for the first time how pure
and true and self-sacrificing all her earthly life has been. Surely
with all these that have gone before it will not be hard to go to
Him when our time comes.
To another friend :
The happiest part of my happy life has been my mother, and
with God's help she will be more to me than ever. The sense of
God and his love has grown ever clearer in the midst of all this
sadness and bereavement.
To members of his family he wrote these letters :
175 Maryborough Street, Boston, February 15, 1880.
Dear Arthur, I am sure we have been thinking pretty
much the same thoughts for these last two weeks. It does not
seem possible that two weeks have passed almost since that Mon-
day morning. Surely Mother's departure was the quietest and
most placid of all deaths. And there have been a dozen things
since of which the first feeling was that I must write to her about
them, and of which I wondered what she would have to say about
them. Last night I had a letter from Aunt Susan, very pleasant,
but very sad. They must miss her terribly up there in the old
jet. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 253
house. What strange events in our lives will always be those two
visits, so much alike when we waited together there between
Father's and Mother's deaths and their funerals.
And so the new chapter of life has begun, and the Brooks Boys
have got to stand together as long as they are left. Well, we
have done it pretty well so far, and I guess we shall do it to the
end. May we all get through with the faithfulness and simpli-
city with which Father and Mother have finished their course.
My love to L . Affectionately, P.
175 Marlborough Street, Boston, February 15, 1880.
Dear Aunt Susan, I thank you with all my heart for your
thoughtful and kind note. It was real good of you to write it.
I knew that you had been thinking of us, and you have known I
am sure that we have thought of you all constantly ever since we
left you at the door in Andover. It does n't seem possible that
two whole weeks have gone since that Monday morning when
your message came, and when we started for the last time to go
up and see dear Mother. How many times I have been over
since then every moment of that day until the quiet peaceful
drawing of her last breath in the evening. I never shall be
thankful enough that both with her and father it was my privilege
to be with them at the last and see how peacefully they both
passed into the everlasting life. And ever since we laid her body
in the little lot at Mount Auburn I have gone over and over all her
life, and remembered all that I thought I had forgotten about the
years when we were all together. You know, in some respects
even better than we do, what she was to us from our birth. And
it is impossible to think of her without thinking how much you
were to her, and how she loved you and leaned on you, and how
you helped her in everything that she did for us. Our gratitude
to you and to her will always go together. Her life looks more
and more beautiful every day as I think it over, and the new life
that she has begun seems only the continuation and fulfilment of
the life on earth which we knew and loved so well. Thank you
for Uncle Gorham's letter which is very good and kind.
Give my love to Aunt Sarah and Aunt Caroline, and may God
keep us all.
Your affectionate nephew,
Phillips.
We must pause for a moment longer to dwell on the
mother of Phillips Brooks. Her greatest endowment was in
the power and intensity of her emotional nature. She had a
254 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
vast capacity for feeling, pouring it forth inexhaustibly,
untiringly. She lavished upon her family an untold wealth
of devotion. His father writes to Phillips Brooks at Virginia,
in 1859:
I don't think one of her children has an idea of the extreme,
incessant, and maternal anxiety she constantly feels for each one
of you ; just now for you and Fred. You can perhaps conceive
somewhat what she feels for Fred from your recollections of your
entrance into College life. Such anxiety and love ought to be
repaid back a thousand-fold, and then the debt would still remain.
She showed the intensity of her affection in little ways that
are pathetic. When she was expecting her son's return from
Virginia for his vacation, she was accustomed to pin a paper
on the wall of her room with a stroke for each week remain-
ing, and draw a line across the marks as the weeks dimin-
ished. Her letters to him abound in such expressions as
this, "I am longing to see you, and I cannot wait much
longer." The devotion of a mother's love was the power by
which she trained and ruled her children. Prom the time
the new household was set up, she concentrated her energies
in one single purpose, the care of her family, first its re-
ligious, and then its secular welfare. As the family income
at first was limited, she studied economy, serving with her
own hands. She never accepted an invitation from home for
any social function until her youngest child was grown up
and no longer needed her care. Dr. Vinton said of Phillips
Brooks that he was made by his mother. He also said of her
that if she had chosen to go into society she would have
been a power in the city of Boston. But the quiet house-
hold over which she ruled was a veritable nursery secluded
from the world. Everything was sacrificed to this end,
the welfare of the children. Phillips Brooks recalled the
picture when he went abroad for the first time. From
Germany he wrote in 1865 :
My dearest Mother, You cannot think how strange it
seems to be writing in this little German inn, and knowing that
you will read it, in the old back parlor at home, where you have
read my letters from Cambridge, Alexandria, and Philadelphia.
jet. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 255
Johnnie will bring it up from the post office some night, and Trip
will break out into one of his horrible concerts two or three times
while you are reading it. Then as soon as it is over, father will
get out bis big candle- and you will put up the stockings, and all
go up the old stairway to the old chambers, and to bed. Well,
good-night and pleasant dreams to you all, and don't forget that
I am off here wandering up and down these old countries and
thinking ever so much about you. 1
While solicitude for the religious life of her children was
the mother's deepest anxiety, yet it did not interfere with,
it may have intensified, her anxiety for their physical well-
being. She was the mother careful and troubled about many
things, but she had somehow reconciled the two types of
womanhood; like Martha, but like Mary also, in the good
part that could not be taken away from her. She was
religious, and yet the simple human instincts of motherhood
carried her away. It was her custom, when the boys were
at a distance from home, to make up boxes, filled with
everything to eat which she knew was liked. Into their
preparation she put her heart and thought. Her husband
writes to Phillips Brooks of one of these presents, "It was
mother all over." When she sent them it was with the in-
junction that they would think of her while enjoying her gift.
She understood the nature of boys. Her task must often
have been a hard one to curb the natural merriment which
threatened at any moment to break loose in riot, or the
natural play of the physical powers which often became
tumultuous. Even after the boys had grown into men she
still felt called upon to exercise her sway in quieting the
tendency to uproar. When Phillips and Frederick were on
a home visit, the one rector of the Church of the Holy Trinity
in Philadelphia, and the other rector of St. Paul's Church
in Cleveland, she is recalled as putting her head into the
doorway of the room from which the sound of merriment
came, and saying, "Boys, remember it is Sunday." She was
a woman very much alive in every pore of her nature, with a
watchful eye for any incident that she might distract into a
1 Letters of Travel, p. 18.
256 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
spiritual channel. She studied her opportunities of approach
to the soul. " That was a very beautiful prayer, father, that
you read " was her remark to her husband after the morning
devotions, but the remark was intended for the children.
A visitor once came to her, a young and anxious mother,
in the confidence that she could get aid from one of so
much experience in the bringing up of boys. At first there
was demurral, and then, according to the report of the con-
versation, she admitted that she could say something in
regard to the management of sons. This is the substance of
what she said, though in passing through the mind of another
it does not reflect her manner of speech, or give her exact
language :
There is an age when it is not well to follow or question your
boy too closely. Up to that time you may carefully instruct and
direct him; you are his best friend; he is never happy unless the
story of the day has been told; you must hear about his friends,
his school ; all that interests him must be your interest. Suddenly
these confidences cease; the affectionate son becomes reserved and
silent, he seeks the intimate friendship of other lads, he goes out,
he is averse to telling where he is going or how long he will be
gone. He comes in and goes silently to his room. All this is a
startling change to the mother, but it is also her opportunity to
practice wisdom by loving, and praying for, and absolutely trust-
ing her son. The faithful instruction and careful training during
his early years the son can never forget ; that is impossible.
Therefore trust not only your heavenly Father, but your son.
The period of which I speak appears to me to be one in which the
boy dies and the man is born; his individuality rises up before
him, and he is dazed and almost overwhelmed by his first conscious-
ness of himself. I have always believed that it was then that
the Creator was speaking with my sons, and that it was good for
their souls to be left alone with Him, while I, their mother,
stood trembling, praying, and waiting, knowing that when the
man was developed from the boy I should have my sons again,
and there would be a deeper sympathy than ever between us.
For the illustration of this in her own experience, the
reader may recall the account which has been given of
Phillips Brooks's reserve, in his youth, when his mother un-
derstood him, keeping silence in the years of transition which
iET. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 257
shut him up to the issue between God and the soul; or
of the conversation with George Brooks after his confir-
mation, when, like Monica with Augustine, after years of
waiting the full communion of spirits came at last. She was
making an act of faith when to her son Phillips at Alex-
andria she wrote that she would not doubt his love even if
she did not hear from him for years.
Phillips Brooks resembled in appearance his mother more
than his father. The contour of the head, the large dark
eyes, the form of the nose, something also in the poise and
the carriage of the head, are those of his mother. But the
large stature seems to be a remoter inheritance, coming into
the Phillips family, together with the deep darkness of the
eye, in Phoebe Foxcroft, his great-grandmother, the wife of
that Samuel Phillips who founded the institutions at An-
dover. The indebtedness of Phillips Brooks to his mother
in the line of a rich heritage is perhaps the greater, yet what
he owed to his father is of such importance that without it he
would not have been the man he was. Thus his handwriting,
which is a symbol of many other things, and from which to
some extent the character may be read, at one time so closely
resembled his father's that it appears at a casual glance to
be the same. But as the years went on it changed, and
became more distinctly his own, graceful and symmetrical
and most legible, without affectation, a sort of reflection
of the man. Many of the higher intellectual qualities of
Phillips Brooks are those of his father. His love of historical
studies, his taste for architecture, his accuracy, his interest
in minute details, his literary sense, and his sober judgments
of men and things, these are traits which his father
possessed. He was like him in his habit of writing out on
paper what went through his mind. Had his father devoted
himself to literary work, he would have achieved distinction.
He loved patient, laborious research. There are several large
volumes of his journals running through many years in which
he notes all that came under his gaze with admirable re-
flections of his own, in a graceful style, and always most
interesting to read. These journals stand for an immense
vol. n
258 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
amount of work. No monkish chronicler in his cell in the
days of the Crusades was more alive than he to the necessity
of recording minutely and accurately the events of the passing
hour. In that respect his son resembled him, always fastening
upon that which had a genuine human interest. His father
was something of an onlooker upon life, stationed a little
outside or above it, in order to note its movement, and here,
too, there was a close resemblance. The father had the con-
stant play of humor without which the highest results in
character and achievement are impossible, and these also the
son possessed in larger measure. Phillips Brooks's almost
invariable mood outside of the pulpit was one in which his
humor played with all the events, the changes, and chances
of this mortal life. It is said that sons inherit from the
father the moral qualities. If this be true, then the high
unbending integrity, the uprightness of the perfect man, who
could be trusted in all circumstances to do what was right
and fitting, was an invaluable paternal legacy. For of the
father the truest words that his sons could speak were these,
"The righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance."
In this comparison with his father, there are some other
points of resemblance. They had in common the love of
relics. When the father was leaving Boston in 1877, he
entrusted to his son, as if his work in life were over, the relics
that he valued :
Boston, February 7, 1877.
Dear Phillips, I have put with this bundle the book with
the autograph of George Phillips, our ancestor who came over in
1630. I have always valued it from its rarity, and entrust it to
your keeping as a curiosity. I know of but one other. It has
the bookmark also of the Rev. Samuel Phillips of South Andover,
who graduated in 1708, and died in 1711. Also his portrait.
Also a Latin Bible. All of which please accept from
Father.
The mother was content to remain at home, abiding in
the consciousness of an interior wealth, where lay her hap-
piness. The son was not without this same satisfaction, but
like his father he loved to travel. Thus his father writes to
him on one occasion, "I have been so long at home that I
jet. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 259
begin to feel uneasy." Phillips Brooks might have often
made these words his own.
This comparison may be summed up, then, in the state-
ment that the invaluable gift of the observation of life came
from the father to the son. It is this gift which underlies
the imaginative power, and indeed may be said to constitute
the imagination when it is united with the other gift of ex-
pression, enabling one to reproduce what he sees. In Phillips
Brooks the power of observation was enlarged in its range,
and was fused with that vast and almost unlimited power of
feeling which came from his mother. The gift of observation
as seen in the father implies the recognition of a certain
importance and significance in secular things, in life as it is
and not solely as it ought to be, that kind of realism which
is based on the conviction that the divine idea is actually
and already working in the ways and institutions of common
life. The mother had more of the spirit of the reformer, who
is born to set the world right and cannot contemplate with
serenity the world as it is. She hungered and thirsted for
the righteousness whose coming is so slow. So strong was
her will, so intense her nature, that she grew impatient with
the obstacles in the way. One who knew the family well
speaks of this difference between the father and the mother :
It always seemed to me that Phillips owed to his father the
clear common sense and realization of the rights and, so to speak,
the personality of others, which kept him from jarring, and made
him able not to try for too much or too impulsively. I remem-
ber his once speaking with amusement of that difference between
Mother and Father. "Mother," he said, "always felt that every-
thing must be set right at once. Anything wrong roused her to
appeal, 'William, aren't you going to do something about it?
Why don't you talk, then! ' And then Father with his quizzical
smile would say, ' But it is none of my business.' "
Now, it seems to me that it was just that capacity to see what
was his business, and how in the prosecution of it he yet must
regard other men's views and peculiarities, and could help them
only by sympathy and honest respect, in that lay Phillips's
great exceptional power. We have had many fanatics, whom we
have honored for their single-mindedness, but few men of such
breadth of mind that we could be sure they understood those who
260 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
differed from them. And one such does more for the unity of
the Church universal than all the others.
A friend of Phillips Brooks, who had seen him at home
and knew his father and mother, writes of his impressions
regarding them :
Mr. Brooks always gave me the notion of a typical Boston
merchant, solid, upright, unimaginative, unemotional. Mrs.
Brooks gave me the notion of a woman of an intense emotional
nature, the very tones of her voice vibratory with feeling, deep
spiritual life, the temperament of genius, the saintly character. I
felt that Phillips Brooks owed his father very much, the business-
like and orderly habit, the administrative faculty which worked
so easily and was so overshadowed by greater powers that it
never received full recognition; the clear logical understanding
that framed so well the skeletons of those sermons which the
intuitive reason, the active imagination, the literary sense, the
spiritual fire so richly filled out, and clothed and inspired
afterwards ; and the strong common sense that no fervor of feel-
ing, no passionate outburst of soul, could ever sweep from its
anchorage. But I never had a question that what made Phillips
Brooks a prophet, a leader, a power among men was from the
Phillips side of the family. The big heart, the changeful coun-
tenance, the voice that so easily grew tremulous with feeling, the
eager look and gesture, the magnetism, the genius, seemed to me,
and I believe seemed to him, his mother's. The father saw things
as they were ; she saw things in vision, ideally as they should be.
So Phillips Brooks knew the facts of life, seeing with his father's
eyes, and all the hopes and possibilities of life through the eyes
of his mother.
It is unnecessary to carry this comparison further. The
conjunction in one personality and in organic fashion, accord-
ing to the marvellous mystery of life, of the qualities inher-
ited from both parents constituted the foundation of the
greatness of Phillips Brooks. Had he received by transmis-
sion only the outlook of his father without the inspired hero-
ism of his mother he would not have risen to greatness. But,
on the other hand, had he inherited from his mother alone,
he might have been known as an ardent reformer, not wholly
unlike his distinguished kinsman, Wendell Phillips, a type
familiar in New England ; but the wonderful fascination of
jet. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 261
his power for men of every class and degree, the universal
appeal to a common humanity, would have been wanting. He
himself recognized the divergence of these possibilities within
him. Sometimes it seemed almost to amount to a contra-
diction whose resolution into a harmony he was seeking to
accomplish. There was a moment in his Philadelphia ministry
when he really identified the pulpit with the cause of social
reforms. He changed, but the process of the change is buried
in silence. All that we know is that when he came to Boston
he must have reached the determination to confine himself
to preaching. He saw that there was an evil side to this
perpetual agitation, danger of life passing away while one
was getting ready to live. Some said, "Remove first the
obstacles which stand in the way of human progress, and then
men will be able to live." He said, "The world, humanity,
has already been redeemed by Christ. The opportunities of
the divine sonship are open to every man. Live! Live
greatly now! " 2
The mother of Phillips Brooks, as she went about her house-
hold duties, was brooding over a world to be won for Christ.
The possibility filled her with strange unuttered enthusiasm.
She was thinking much about foreign missions. Her heart
would have been torn with natural anguish, but she would
have bravely bidden farewell to all her sons had they been
going forth into heathen lands to carry the gospel of Christ.
"How Mother used to talk to us about Henry Martyn,"
wrote Phillips Brooks to one of his brothers, when two years
later he was in India. A new zeal for foreign missions was
born in him from that time. The concentration of his power-
ful will in combination with the brooding love and tenderness
for humanity, the vast almost superhuman yearning for the
well-being of humanity and of individual men, the clear single
purpose, from which he steadfastly refused to be turned
aside, even by the fascination of intellectual culture or liter-
ary creation, the growing devotion to Christ which mastered
his whole being, this we came to know as Phillips Brooks,
and this in another form was the spirit of his mother. The
1 Cf. Sermons, vol. vi., for a sermon on the " Battle of Life."
262 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
words of Scripture upon which he fastened as representing
his mother's life, to be engraven upon the stone that marks
her burying place, were these: "O woman, great is thy faith:
be it unto thee even as thou wilt." Shortly after her death
he preached upon this text in the pulpit of Trinity Church.
The sermon contains no personal reference, but it is the son's
memorial of his mother. 1
There are many of his sermons, where one familiar with
his life may trace his experience in the home. It was his
peculiarity to dwell on the simple facts of his own life till
he saw them in their truer, because diviner meaning. There
is one sermon entitled "The Mother's Wonder," on the
text, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us?" which may
be called his apology for the inevitable divergence from the
standards of the household in which he had grown up.
Every man must take his life finally into his own keeping,
responsible only to God for his methods and conclusions. 2
Both father and mother, and particularly the mother, held
stringently by those religious opinions which in that day were
accounted safe, fearful of the newer books and movements in
religion, lest they should shake the foundations of Christian
faith. Thus the mother warned her children against Bush-
nell's writings as dangerous. The following letter was
written by her while Phillips Brooks was in Philadelphia,
after he had been for two years the rector of the Church of
the Holy Trinity. It will be read in a spirit of profoundest
reverence, for the intensity of its convictions, its entire devo-
tion to truth, that sense of responsibility, as it were, for the
world which made the mother great :
Boston, Sunday evening, November 27, 1864.
My dear Phillt, I have just been hearing William read
two sermons by Dr. Bushnell, just published, one upon the
"Agony of Christ," and one upon the "Cross." And I am so
shocked by them that I cannot refrain from warning you against
them as being a preacher of the Cross of Christ. Philly, they
are nothing better than Unitarianism that I suffered under all my
1 Cf. Sermons, vol. iii., " The Greatness of Faith."
2 Cf. Ibid. vol. iv.
arc. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 263
young life. They tear the view of Christ's vicarious suffering all
to pieces. I know you admire some of his writings, therefore I
warn you not to he heguiled hy these ; for God knows, Philly, I
would rather never have you preach Christ's hlessed Gospel than
wickedly pervert it as Bushnell does.
I hope you do not own the book called "Christ and His Salva-
tion." But if you do I want you to burn it with Frederick pre-
sent to witness and exult over it. I have no patience with the
book or with the man. It is shameful to put forth such a book
under the guise of an orthodox preacher, when it is nothing better
than Unitarianism. I am afraid he will beguile many a one who
is not on his guard, and so I cannot help warning you. No, my
dear child; remember, you have promised to preach Christ and
Him crucified in the true meaning of the words, and I charge you
to stand firm. If you do read the book, I would love to see you
come out with a scorching criticism of it. He is also going to
bring out another volume, which I also warn you against, upon
"Christ's Vicarious Sufferings." I shudder to think how he will
deny all Christ's blessed dying for us.
No, Philly, I 've sat under such preaching a long time, and I
know how to warn you all against it. I know Dr. Vinton would
not like those sermons ; he is so simply sound. I heard him con-
demn Dr. Bushnell fifteen years ago.
Philly, I wish you would let Frederick read what I have writ-
ten. It may do him good too. And excuse the plainness of my
writing, and impute it all to my love of the Truth and my earnest
desire that you may continue Christ's faithful soldier and servant
unto your life's end.
Your faithful and affectionate,
Friend and Mother.
P. S. I hope you will answer this letter. Perhaps it would
be better after you have read the sermons. But perhaps you had
better not read them at all.
The significance of this letter is its valuation of the truth
of vicarious atonement, which, apart from all reasoning, is
the expression of some deep human feeling, too persistent to
be set aside as an accident in the history of the religious life.
Dr. Bushnell, it is well known, changed his opinion on the
subject, and after much serious consideration withdrew the
book in which he had questioned the vicariousness of the
great sacrifice. This letter from the mother of Phillips
Brooks, it may be taken for granted, had its influence on
264 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
the son. He was too deep a student of the religious life and
of the instinctive utterances of Christian feeling to deny the
validity of a conviction which meant so much in his mother's
experience. The subject will be referred to again when
treating of his theology. But here it may be said that this
letter stands to his theology somewhat as the letters of his
father, in regard to carrying politics into the pulpit, stood
to his general attitude as a preacher. He was a loyal son,
even when forced to differ from the parental injunction.
Another instance of the parental anxiety was displayed
when the book "Ecce Homo" appeared, creating bewilder-
ment through its unusual treatment of the person of Christ.
Phillips Brooks sought to allay the anxiety which his en-
thusiasm for it had created in the home circle by appealing
to the authority of Dr. Stone, who was regarded as a safe
guide, " I am happy to report to you that Dr. Stone is an
enthusiastic admirer of 'Ecce Homo.' " But any concern
which the mother may have felt because of the son's diver-
gence from those opinions to which she rigidly adhered
ceased to exist after he came to Boston. His preaching
entirely satisfied her soul in its most exigent demands for the
bread of life. This confirms what has already been said,
that he had now taken up her mission and was fulfilling it
after her heart's desire. Sometimes he himself or his friends
would seek to tease her by speaking of his tenets as not in
harmony with her doctrinal system, but she was no longer
annoyed. She kept the counsels of her heart about in-
tellectual difficulties and new developments in theology. It
was enough that he was preaching the Christ whom she knew
and loved with a power and insight she had never known
before.
Both father and mother felt the natural human pride in
such a son. At the time when the services of Trinity Church
were held in Huntington Hall, the father is remembered
as going to the robing room, before the service began, and leav-
ing there his hat and overcoat before entering the hall. The
mother sat with a rapt countenance, leaning slightly forward
as her son was preaching. She would often come up to him
jet. 44] DEATH OF HIS MOTHER 265
in her shy, gentle way, saying, "Phillips, that was a beauti-
ful sermon." She had fears, sometimes grave anxiety, lest
his popularity and success would injure his character. "Do
you think they are spoiling him?" she once asked in her
pleasant but abrupt way of a young clergyman whom she
casually met. She did not like the new style of Evangel-
ical preaching which came in with the younger generation,
with its finical play upon the letter of Scriptures, the find-
ing of surprising meanings in the absence or presence of
grammatical particles. She also refused to believe that there
were any "Romanizing germs " in the Prayer Book. Thus
she wrote :
Boston, May 7, 1869.
My dear Philly, I hear that you are to preach the Con-
vention Sermon next week. Do stand up with all your strength
for our dear good Prayer Book. Plead that not one jot or tittle
of it be altered. It never was the cause of that hateful ritualism,
and our Faith and our Church will go when our Prayer Book is
changed. Let us show we can defend our good old Mother when
she is in danger. I trust in your power and will to do it, and
may God help you to defend the right.
Anxiously, your Mother, and earnestly.
The mother is also remembered for that peculiar power of
sympathy which was illustrated so amply in her son. A lady
who had given up her religious home among the Unitarians
to attend Trinity Church, and who felt still as a stranger in
the new position, recalls how Mrs. Brooks introduced herself
once after service, alluding to her own loneliness when she
made the transition to the Episcopal Church. Another lady
says of her, "I never saw her without feeling a desire to be
better." When her sister went to Washington during the
war to serve as a nurse in the hospitals, she writes that she
wishes she could go herself. For many years she taught a
class of boys in a mission Sunday-school on Purchase Street.
But her main work was at home, caring for her household
and her children. There she revealed her greatness. Of
the devotion of Phillips Brooks to his mother much might
be said, and especially in those last years of her life, when he
seemed to live for her in constant acts of thoughtfulness for
266 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
her comfort and happiness. She came to wonder at his good-
ness. She grew deeper into the childlike spirit. Gratitude
and humility were the graces of her character. Her favorite
hymn was one of Bonar's, called the "Everlasting Memorial: "
Up and away like the dew of the morning,
Soaring from earth to its home in the sun,
So let me steal away gently and lovingly,
Only remembered by what I have done.
The reputation of Phillips Brooks as a preacher had now
extended into England and Scotland. To trace the process
of his growing fame abroad would be only to repeat the story
of his first appearance in the pulpit of the Church of the
Advent in Philadelphia or of his coming to Trinity Church
in Boston. Abroad as at home he awakened the same
interest in himself as a man, as well as overcame his
hearers by his power in the pulpit. It had been through
Dean Stanley that his first introduction to England had
come. Then Dean Stanley's friends had become his own,
speaking of him among themselves. This was the first be-
ginning of his English fame. When his first volume of
sermons appeared, it reached a wide circulation in England,
because those who read it spoke of it to their friends as some-
thing which had left a rare impression on their minds. Be-
neath the thought they penetrated to the man, and felt the
same desire to know him that had been felt at home. A
pathetic interest attaches to this first volume because Dean
Stanley read it by the bedside of his wife in her last days.
A distinguished dignitary of the Church of England wrote
to a friend who sent it to him :
January 21, 1879.
. . . The volume you so kindly sent me to look at is a trea-
sure, and it has already been brought under my notice by Canon
Spence, of St. Pancras, who was introduced to it by Canon
Farrar. I have ordered a copy for myself, for I had already
dipped into the volume and seen what wealth it contains. Canon
Spence said, "The man who wrote those sermons is a giant,"
little knowing that his words applied physically as well as intel-
lectually ! I must say that Phillips Brooks is of all living divines
jet. 44] SERMON BEFORE THE QUEEN 267
the one with whom I feel I have most in common, whose view
of Christianity and the Christian life appears to me to he the
wisest and the healthiest. I wish I had the chance of "sitting
under " such a teacher. If we could import him into a stall at
Westminster what a gain it would he ! Our Dean says he con-
siders the last sermon he preached at the Abhey the best he ever
heard there. 1
The knowledge of the sermons came to the Queen, who read
them with deep interest, and made them a gift to the Dean of
Windsor. Her Majesty having expressed a desire to hear
him preach when he next visited England, the invitation was
conveyed to him by the Dean of Windsor, and on Sunday, the
11th of July, he preached in the Chapel Royal at Windsor
Castle. The text of the sermon was Rev. iii. 12: "Him
that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God,
and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the
name of my God, and the name of the city of my God . . .
and . . . my new name." As it was the first instance in
which an American clergyman had preached before the Queen,
Dean Wellesley was naturally interested in the result. Writ-
ing to Dean Stanley the next day he says :
Phillips Brooks was a complete success. The Queen and
who were here admired him very much. His word-painting if
one may use the expression was very fine, clothing matter most
lucidly arranged and with much unction. I do not remember
having heard a finer preacher; and with it the man himself, most
simple, unassuming, and agreeable.
To Phillips Brooks Dean Wellesley wrote, July 19, 1880 :
I received with great pleasure your letter of the 18th, more
especially as it gives me the opportunity of letting you know
that the Queen is most anxious to have a copy of your sermon.
She has twice asked for it. If it is not giving you too much
trouble, you would have it copied in a fair round text, although
she would certainly prefer it in your own hand. It would be
very nice, if on your return to Boston you would include the ser-
mon preached before the Queen of Great Britain in your next
volume of printed sermons. 2
1 Cf. Sermons, vol. i., for the sermon referred to, under the title, " The
Symbol and the Reality."
2 The request was complied with, and the sermon is given in Sermons, vol. ii.
p. 60.
268 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
To Mrs. Messer, a daughter of the late Bishop Mcllvaine
of Ohio, living in England, Mr. Brooks wrote the following
letter describing his visit to Windsor :
Caledonia Hotel, Edinburgh, July 18, 1880.
Dear Mes. Messer, You took such a kindly interest in my
going to Windsor that I know you will allow me to tell you
about my visit, and how pleasant an experience it was. I went
down on Saturday evening and spent the night at the Castle.
Everybody was most hospitably cordial, and curious and new as
it all was I enjoyed the evening very much. Sunday was a
delightfully pleasant day, and the service at noon was full of
heartiness and spirit. The place was not, as I had feared, too
small to preach in; and the people, Her Majesty and all the rest,
were good enough to listen, so that the twenty minutes of
preaching was not disagreeable. After the service the Queen sent
for me, and I had a short interview with her. She was kind and
pleasant, and I liked her. In the afternoon I went to service in
St. George's Chapel, and in the evening came back to London.
It was all a very enjoyable experience. I shall always look back
to it with much interest. We left London early the next morning,
and have been in and about Edinburgh ever since. I have been
trying hard to understand what the Scotchmen are saying and
how their very queer and complicated Ecclesiastical System is
working, and I make some little progress in both. It rains most
of the time, otherwise everything is most pleasant. To-morrow
morning we are off for the Highlands.
I thank you for all your kindness, and with all good wishes, I
am, Ever sincerely yours,
Phillips Brooks.
Besides preaching before the Queen and at Chester Cathe-
dral, Mr. Brooks preached at Westminster Abbey, deliver-
ing his famous sermon, "The Candle of the Lord." As the
Sunday fell on the Fourth of July, many felt that the
Dean had given a very difficult task to an American in ask-
ing him to preach on that day in such a place. The Dean
himself felt some anxiety about the result. Lady Francis
Baillie, a sister-in-law of Dean Stanley, has contributed an
interesting incident in connection with the occasion. After
the service she slipped out into the deanery by the private
door, and reached the drawing-room before any of the guests
at. 44] WESTMINSTER ABBEY 269
who were to come in from the Abbey. She found the Dean
with tears running down his face, a most extraordinary thing
for him; and as soon as she appeared he burst out with
expressions of the intensest admiration, saying that lie had
never been so moved by any sermon that he could remember,
and dwelling on the wonderful taste and feeling displayed
in the passage at the end. This is the passage referred
to, appended to the sermon in order to commemorate the
day:
My Friends, May I ask you to linger while I say a few
words more which shall not be unsuited to what I have been say-
ing, and which shall, for just a moment, recall to you the sacred-
ness which this day the Fourth of July, the anniversary of
American Independence has in the hearts of us Americans. If I
dare generously permitted as I am to stand this evening in the
venerable Abbey, so full of our history as well as yours to
claim that our festival shall have some sacredness for you as well
as for us, my claim rests on the simple truth that to all true men
the birthday of a nation must always be a sacred thing. For in
our modern thought the nation is the making-place of men. Not
by the traditions of its history, nor by the splendor of its corpo-
rate achievements, nor by the abstract excellence of its constitu-
tion, but by its fitness to make men, to beget and educate human
character, to contribute to the complete humanity, the perfect
man that is to be, by this alone each nation must be judged
to-day. The nations are the golden candlesticks which hold aloft
the glory of the Lord. No candlestick can be so rich or vener-
able that men shall honor it if it holds no candle. "Show us
your man," land cries to land.
In such days any nation, out of the midst of which God has led
another nation as He led ours out of the midst of yours, must
surely watch with anxiety and prayer the peculiar development of
our common humanity of which that new nation is made the home,
the special burning of the human candle in that new candlestick;
and if she sees a hope and promise that God means to build in
that land some strong and free and characteristic manhood, which
shall help the world to its completeness, the mother-land will
surely lose the thought and memory of whatever anguish accompa-
nied the birth, for gratitude over the gain which humanity has
made, "for joy that a man is born into the world."
It is not for me to glorify to-night the country which I love
with all my heart and soul. I may not ask your praise for any-
270 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
thing admirable which the United States has been or done. But
on my country's birthday I may do something far more solemn
and more worthy of the hour. I may ask for your prayers in her
behalf. That on the manifold and wondrous chance which God is
giving her, on her freedom (for she is free, since the old stain
of slavery was washed out in blood) ; on her unconstrained reli-
gious life ; on her passion for education and her eager search for
truth; on her zealous care for the poor man's rights and oppor-
tunities ; on her quiet homes where the future generations of men
are growing; on her manufactories and her commerce; on her
wide gates open to the east and to the west ; on her strange meet-
ing of the races out of which a new race is slowly being born; on
her vast enterprise and her illimitable hopefulness, on all these
materials and machineries of manhood, on all that the life of
my country must mean for humanity, I may ask you to pray that
the blessing of God, the Father of man, and Christ, the Son of
man, may rest forever.
Because you are Englishmen and I am an American; also
because here, under this high and hospitable roof of God, we are
all more than Englishmen and more than Americans ; because we
are all men, children of God waiting for the full coming of our
Father's kingdom, I ask you for that prayer. 1
These words of international amity, which if they could be
realized would put an end to jealousy or suspicion or hostility
between England and America, were rendered memorable by
the sublime associations of the place and the day as well as
by the preacher who uttered them. The occasion becomes
representative, impressive to the historical imagination. It
has in it the element of the picturesque, in which Dean
Stanley delighted. The accessories of the moment have been
described by an eyewitness :
A vast congregation filled the grand old Abbey, the most striking
scene of Christian worship in the world. There was the presence,
too, in spiritual communion of the great dead whom the Abbey
commemorates, the men of renown in English history, statesmen
and warriors, poets and philosophers, men of letters, of science and
of arts, who have made England great, and in whose greatness
America claims a share. The noble anthem of Mendelssohn, "I
waited for the Lord, " resounded through the arches of the vener-
1 Sermons, vol. ii. pp. 20, 21. Cf., also, Essays and Addresses, p. 354, for a
reference to the occasion by Mr. Brooks.
jet. 44] CORRESPONDENCE 271
able fane. Dean Stanley, the most eminent ecclesiastic of the
century, read for the first lesson the story of Absalom's death in
pathetic, almost dramatic manner. While Keble's hymn, "Sun
of my soul, Thou Saviour dear," was being sung the American
preacher in his black gown mounted the pulpit. There were
many in the large congregation who had come attracted by his
fame. The eyes of all fastened upon him as he spoke. He
held their attention by the freshness and suggestiveness, the
beauty and spiritual power, with which he invested his theme.
He was cultured and classical in his style ; there was also noted
the absence in the voice of any American peculiarity which
grates upon English ears. But yet he reminded in some subtle
way of the wide prairies, in the largeness and freedom of the
atmosphere which enveloped him as a garment. There was one
common verdict on the sermon, it was worthy of the pulpit of
Westminster Abbey. From that time the fame of Phillips Brooks
was established in England. He had the royal approval in having
preached before the Queen ; it was but a short step to the confidence
and love of the English people.
There was an event in ecclesiastical circles while Mr. Brooks
was in England which was making no slight commotion,
the renunciation of the Church of England by the Rev. Stop-
ford Brooke in order to join the Unitarians. In this event
there came to a focus some of the conditions of religious
thought which characterized the moment. Mr. Brooke left
the Church because he no longer accepted the miracle,
joining the Unitarians because among them he was free to
preach a non-miraculous Christianity. The question was
raised whether he was justified in leaving the Church on this
ground. As the national establishment of religion, the
Church of England, it was said, might reflect the passing
phases of religious opinion in the nineteenth century, as in
the eighteenth, without detriment to her spiritual constitution
or effectiveness. It must be remembered that at this time
the scientific presumption against the miracle was so strong
that it almost amounted to an intellectual proscription of its
adherents. To scientific minds the miracle had become im-
possible and unthinkable. To a friend in England who asked
for his opinion on the questions at issue, Phillips Brooks
wrote this letter :
272 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
233 Clarendon Street, November 4, 1880.
Dear Mrs. Messer, I must thank you in a single hurried
word for your kindness in sending me the account of Stopford
Brooke's Sermon. I differ from him very deeply. To me the
Incarnation and the miracles which Christ Jesus is said to have
wrought seem to be sublimely reasonable, and contradicted by no
knowledge of man or of the world which God has given us. I
believe that they are true historically and most natural philo-
sophically.
But as between Mr. Brooke and those who blame him for leav-
ing the Church of England, I cannot doubt which is right. Of
course he is. He could not stay in justice to the Church or to
himself. The "Spectator" had an article upon his action a few
weeks ago with which I thoroughly agreed.
Ever sincerely yours,
Phillips Brooks.
Mr. Brooks was accompanied on this visit by his youngest
brother. Leaving London after a few delightful weeks, they
went to Scotland.
Scotland, July 25, 1880.
Dear Arthur, . . . Here are John and I, way up in the
Highlands, with everything redolent of heather and broom and gillies
and pibrochs and burns and tarns and the "Princess of Thule "
and that sort of thing. Your letter reached me at Oban a day
or two ago, and it was pleasant to learn about Commencement up
among those wretches who never heard of Harvard. The High-
land journey has been very beautiful and everything has gone
well, the weather being exceptionally well behaved. "We had
almost a week in and about Edinburgh with a little visit to St.
Andrew's, where we saw Shairp and Tulloch and the little Divinity
School over which the author of the " Rational Theology " pre-
sides. One gets quite interested in theological quarrels here, and
listens to the battle which is raging over Robinson Smith and his
articles in the " Encyclopaedia Britannica " with a curious sort of
sense that he is hearing the roar of an out-of-the-way skirmish of
the same battlefield that he is so familiar with at home. The
Kirk and the Free Church and the U. P's keep up a perennial
turmoil, and divide the people of every little county town among
them. . . .
In London everything was very pleasant. Stanley was very
devoted, and put us in the way of seeing lots of pleasant sights
and people. I preached for him in the Abbey on the Fourth of
July, and was quite shamed with the way in which Farrar in the
mt. 44] THE NEW RECTORY 273
afternoon outsaid everything that I possibly could have said about
America. Then I went down to Windsor and preached. . . .
Last Sunday we spent in Edinburgh and heard their great man
there, a certain Dr. MacGregor. . . . John spent at Boston the
Sunday which I spent at Windsor, and preached in old St.
Botolph's there.
Mr. Brooks returned to Boston with the prospect of taking
possession of the new house, No. 233 Clarendon Street. It
was intended, of course, as the rectory of Trinity Church,
but was built primarily for him, the architect Richardson
advising with him in regard to the plan. Mr. Brooks had at
first protested against the purpose of building him a fine house,
which should be a permanent home. So long had he been
accustomed to transient residences in hotels or hired houses
that it seemed to him inappropriate to live in any other way.
But he acquiesced in the arrangement, and soon appreciated
its advantages. The house on Clarendon Street became very
dear to him as to all his friends. It was part of his recre-
ation to adorn and beautify it with pictures and relics and
souvenirs of travel, till it took on a personal character and
seemed the expression of himself. Among the relics which
he valued and gave an honored place were an old chair from
the house in North Andover, and a cabinet richly carved, for
which he had a peculiar reverence, as associated with the
generations of the Phillipses. He writes to his aunt Susan
that it is a perpetual pleasure, asking for information about
its history.
Among the letters of this year there is one to his college
friend, the Rev. James Reed, pastor of the New Church in
Boston :
April 29, 1880.
My dear Jim Reed, It has not been carelessness or ingrat-
itude that has kept me from acknowledging your book before
this. But I wanted to read it first, and I found no time until a
few days ago, when I went to New York and took it with me.
Then I read it all carefully, and I want to tell you how much I
enjoyed it.
I am not a New Churchman in the special meaning which the
words have for you, but I hope still that I have some small part
and lot, as I certainly have the deepest interest and delight, in
vol. n
274 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1880
the great New Church which one feels moving everywhere under
the crust of sects and dogmas in these days: the New Church
which comes down from heaven and not up out of the earth, and
whose power of life and unity is love and loyalty to the personal
Christ.
I thank you with all my heart for your Book, for it has shown
me how much there is that is dear to both of us alike, and has
helped me I know in faith and life.
May God bless you always.
Your old friend,
Phillips Brooks.
In the fall of the year he participated in the two hundred
and fiftieth anniversary of the First Church in Boston, where
his ancestor, John Cotton, had been a minister, and again at
Watertown in the commemoration of the founding of the
town and church in 1630, in which his ancestor, Rev. George
Phillips, had been an important factor. "I am afraid," he
writes to his aunt Susan, "that my ancestors would not ap-
prove of the people who are celebrating them."
To his brother in bereavement by the death of a child he
writes this letter :
December 2, 1880.
Dear Johnny, I hope that you will feel like coming down
on Monday. I am sure that it will do you good ; you know what
a simple, quiet time it is. All the fellows will be glad to see you,
and you know what a treat it will be to me.
I have been thinking of you all the time, and hoping that you
were happy, and that everything was going well with you and
H . The Sundays must have been hard enough, and yet I
know the work has helped you. I am sure it is a blessing to a
minister that the work to which he has to go when he is in sorrow
is not a foreign thing which vexes and chafes him, but he is busied
with the thoughts which he needs most, and which bring him into
the presence of God where he most wants to be.
I am so glad that I was with you those two days, and that I had
part in choosing the pleasant spot where the body of your little
child and my godchild was to be laid. I shall always be thank-
ful for it. How beautiful it must be out there this bright winter
morning !
To the Rev. W. N. McVickar he writes in reference to the
consecration of the Church of the Holy Trinity :
V.
z
X
w
o
Q
V.
ro
M
u
ai
O
O
jet. 44] CORRESPONDENCE 275
233 Clarendon Stkkkt, Boston, December 4, 1880.
My dear McVickak, Your good letter came yesterday, and
I am glad to be able to clap you on the back at tbis long distance,
and rejoice witb you in tbe Cburcb of tbe Holy Trinity. Long
may you live to flourish there, dear fellow, and may each year be
happier and brighter than the year before it.
Thank you for wanting me to come. I '11 tell you what I '11 do.
If the consecration should be on the 11th of January, I '11 come
and spend the 9th with you and preach all I know how on that
day and stay over the Consecration day. But I won't preach the
Consecration sermon. Dr. Vinton is expecting to do that, and I
haven't a moment between now and then to preach a consecration
sermon. Get him to come and give the occasion the proper
solemnity and dignity which neither you nor I, old boy, are
capable of giving.
If you '11 do that I will be with you on the 9th and the 11th.
I don't see how I could possibly be there on the 13th, for I must
lecture here upon the evening of the 12th, and the 16th is our
Foreign Missionary Sunday, when I must surely be at home.
Now think of all this ; ponder and digest it well, and when your
mind is clear write to me all about it, and I will make a big mark
in my Almanac, and when the day comes so will I.
My best remembrance to your sister and to you. Oh, William,
what more can I say than that the longer I live I am more and
more,
Yours respectfully and affectionately (if you only would n't
cross your letters),
Phillips Brooks.
CHAPTER X
1881
THE CALL TO HARVARD UNIVERSITY, AS PREACHER AND
PROFESSOR OF CHRISTIAN ETHICS. EXTRACTS FROM COR-
RESPONDENCE
One of the features of the ministry of Phillips Brooks was
its adaptation to all classes of men. He spoke to all alike
as though in some way he had bridged the gulf which divides
the people. He touched the common humanity. But, for the
most part, it was his mission in life to preach to people of
intellectual culture; nowhere was he more eagerly welcomed
than in colleges and universities where the standard was
intellectual. Like Schleiermacher in his famous appeal to
the educated people of Germany, he made thoughtful men
and women realize the power of religion in an age when the
current of tendencies ran strongly against religious faith.
It is all true, so he seemed to be constantly saying, this old
religion; it has a deeper, larger, grander meaning, and a
diviner beauty than you knew. It only needs to be seen as
it really is and you would receive it again with enthusiasm.
His temperament was intellectual, and therefore he met the
human intellect in all stages of its development. Had he
been free to follow his natural bent he would have pursued
the lines of intellectual research and activity in which his
age was interested. But the preparation for the ministry
and the experience of the pulpit had forced upon him the
conviction, that if the intellectual appeal was to be effective
it must come from an intellect fused in organic relationship
with the heart and will, the whole man on the one side
reaching forth to meet a simple humanity on the other.
It was through his power to meet the needs of those who
were seeking to connect intellect with life that he became the
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 277
favorite preacher to young men in that stage of their progress
where the intellect is supreme. To an age of over-intellec-
tual refinement and subtlety, where the reason was defeating
its own end, he brought a mind which had been subjected to
special training in the logic of life. Educational institutions
recognized his mission and asked for his aid. While in
Philadelphia he had been called to the presidency of Kenyon
College, in Ohio. He felt an attraction for such a call,
but declined on the ground that he would not be free to carry
out his purpose in his own way. He had been invited to
take the chair of Church History in the Philadelphia Divin-
ity School, and, as we have seen, his impulse had been to
accept it. In 1880 he was requested to consider the question
of the provostship of the University of Pennsylvania. To
Dr. Weir Mitchell he then wrote :
I must not think of the provostship; though if I were free
there is no place in the country that would attract me so. I
think the work of a provost there, should it be thoroughly and in the
best way successful, would be so fine, that nothing I could think
of would compare with it. But I am a preacher to the end.
But there came a call which shook his resolve to abide
exclusively by the pulpit. In the early spring of 1881 he
was invited to accept the position of preacher to Harvard
University and professor of Christian Ethics. It was an
opportunity that strangely realized the dreams of his youth,
when it had been his ambition to become a great teacher, when
his highest hopes would have been fulfilled if he had been
offered a position in Harvard College. It was a character-
istic of the man that what he had once loved he had loved
forever, and to Harvard his whole heart had been given.
The call came as the natural sequence of his devotion to it
during his ministry in Boston. On coming to Boston he had
been at once elected to its Board of Overseers, and when his
first term of service had expired was reelected for a second
term. In this capacity for twelve years he had now served
the College.
In his position as an Overseer [says President Eliot] he sup-
ported all changes which enlarged the freedom of the students,
278 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
simplified regulations, and tended to develop in the young men the
capacity for self-control. In his judgment of character and of
conduct, he was generous without heing weak. He was tolerant
of all religious, philosophical, and political views and opinions,
so much so that I never heard him raise a question on any such
matter when the appointment of a teacher was under discussion;
but he had a strong dislike for the pessimistic or cynical temper,
and in a few instances he expressed distrust of College teachers
on the ground that they exhibited this quality, in his judgment so
injurious to young men.
His first connection with the College as a religious teacher
was indirect, through the chapel of the Episcopal Theologi-
cal School. The most noticeable feature of these Sunday
evening services for the seven consecutive years he had
preached there was the large number present of its officers
and students. It was something unusual for students in such
large numbers voluntarily to crowd a place of worship in
order to listen to a sermon, and the spectacle awoke reflection
as to the place of religion in the College. During those years
the attendance of Harvard students never slackened. They
knew that the service was intended for them, and the feeling
grew that Phillips Brooks was devoting himself to their inter-
est. When this arrangement came to an end in 1877, a peti-
tion was sent to him from the students, with a large number
of signatures, asking that he continue to preach in the chapel.
But for various reasons it was not possible to comply with the
request, and there came the feeling of a void, which could
be only partially filled by his occasional appearance at the
college chapel. In 1881 came the opportunity to bring him
into an official relationship, through the resignation of Dr.
Andrew P. Peabody, who for many years had held the post
of preacher to the University. To this vacant place Mr.
Brooks was at once invited.
The call of Phillips Brooks to Harvard produced a wide-
spread and intense excitement. There was much speculation
as to its import and possible consequences, deep searchings
of heart when one considered all the issues involved. In the
minds of some the consideration was foremost that the Uni-
versity was breaking with the traditions of its history in
mt. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 279
handing over the responsibility for the religious training of
its students to an Episcopal clergyman, a representative of
the Church of England in America. And again for several
generations the College had been identified with Unitarianism.
To call a minister of another denomination must mean at
least that the University was swinging away from its old
position as a sectarian institution. But if this meant calamity
to Unitarians it must mean jubilation to Episcopalians, as
though there were a possibility of their ultimate possession
and control. Or, still further, there was ground for the sin-
ister suspicion that Mr. Brooks had changed his creed, and
under some tacit understanding with the Corporation had been
called to the high position. In the absence of definite infor-
mation, and in the intense interest and excitement which
prevailed, unnatural rumors were magnified into facts. Mr.
Brooks himself was so stirred by these reports that he went
to President Eliot, and asked if it were understood by those
in authority that he was a Trinitarian in his belief. The
answer was definite and satisfactory that he had been called
with full knowledge of his theological position. Thus the
religious history of more than two hundred years seemed
to be condensed in this simple issue.
Whether the President and the Corporation of Harvard had
foreseen these things or not, they could not have realized how
profound and widespread would be the interest which their
action would awaken, how it would stir the city of Boston,
the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and become a question
of importance to the country at large. But in the midst of
the excitement and the confusion, one thing stood out with
great clearness, from which there could be no dissent, the
Corporation of Harvard University in calling Phillips Brooks
had performed an ideal act which was above all criticism ;
they had asked for the one man in all the world whom they
most wanted, who if he came would fill the vacant place, and
brine: increasing honor and confidence to the institution.
They had called him not because he belonged to any one reli-
gious body rather than another, but in spite of his denomina-
tional affiliation. They had supreme confidence in the man
28o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
himself, that under all circumstances he could be trusted to
do that which was right and honorable and beautiful in the
eyes of all men.
It was understood from the first that Phillips Brooks not
only felt free to consider the offer, but that he was strongly
inclined to accept it. He had freely said so when the offer
came to him. It would seem as though this were a question
which a man was entitled to decide for himself, and above
all that such a man as Phillips Brooks would insist upon this
simple prerogative of his manhood. If he had done so, all
would have admitted that he had acted conscientiously and
from the highest motives. But here we touch an extraordinary
phase in this most important of the experiences of his life.
He was not to be allowed to decide it for himself. The issues
at stake were so vast and so momentous, he represented so
much more than himself, that he was compelled, as it were,
involuntarily to submit the question to be determined by the
people while he waited for the verdict. Such is the impres-
sion made when the full picture of the moment is gathered
in. There came a month of waiting and suspense, filled up
with personal interviews, when anxious letters flowed in upon
him daily from all parts of the country, from all classes of
people, from the governor of the Commonwealth and the
president of the University down to the humble serving
woman who had found him her support and consolation in
the struggle with the hard necessities of life. As one studies
this mass of letters, where the question of his going to Har-
vard is discussed frankly and in all its bearing by scholars
and statesmen and thinkers, by lawyers and men of business,
by the clergy of all denominations, by women in all ranks of
life as well as by men, by those who were his closest friends
and by those who had never seen or heard him, there is con-
veyed to the mind a rare and intimate vision of how people
are feeling at a certain moment in life, such as one never
gets from books or history.
To Phillips Brooks it must have proved a strange revela-
tion. In his simplicity he had thought he could act in such
a juncture as did other men. Now it was borne in upon him
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 281
that he did not belong to himself and was no longer living
for himself. Others were claiming him for their possession,
each for his own. It reminds one of that earlier experience
when the spirit of the world also recognized him for its own,
and blocked his way when he was seeking to direct it for
himself. The spirit which then sent him into the ministry
was now at work to prevent the defeat of its design. To this
end it invoked methods that were almost weird in their
effects. Those who wrote and spoke to him broke the cus-
tomary reticence of life, and told him all they thought and
felt. It was like listening to a long eulogy while he was yet
alive. It must have had its effect. It humiliated him to the
very dust. He could never again be quite the same that he
had been. There was from this time a change in his face
and bearing, as of one who had seen a vision of things un-
speakable.
It may be interesting to review, now that twenty years
have gone by, the history of that critical moment in the
life of Phillips Brooks. He was the object of a controversy,
almost a battle, between contending parties, not unequally
matched. In the first place the cause of the University may
be presented. And from the first it had this advantage,
that Mr. Brooks felt a strong inclination to accept the call.
He liked young men and the associations of student life.
Throughout the years of his ministry he had not discarded
his early ambition to do some scholarly work. Amid
the pressure of duties in a large parish he felt at a dis-
advantage when issues were at stake which could be solved
only by intellectual research. To this research he could
bring a mind that had learned how to connect abstract ideas
with life. He may even have felt that he had for this reason
a special mission to young men at the age when the intellec-
tual is too apt to be divorced from the moral and the spiritual.
There was a possibility that he might help them to a more
complete culture. He was at this time forty-five years of age,
not too late to betake himself again to the distinctive work of
a student, the moment in a man's life when all his powers
have reached their perfection. But it was manifest enough
2 82 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
that he had no time to lose. If anything were to be done
in this direction it must be begun now, or he must abandon
the dream forever.
And still further, he was beginning to be wearied with the
burden he had so long been carrying. For twenty years he
had stood in the pulpit, Sunday after Sunday, preaching his
matchless sermons. To exert the influence he did was to
take the life out of him. With the constant drain on his
vital powers it was a marvel that he had endured so long
without the breaking down of his health. People had come
to think of his work as calling for no effort or preparation,
welcoming and rejoicing in his appearance as in the sun shin-
ing in its strength. In the rich endowment of his nature, he
seemed to work with such absolute spontaneity that no one
thought of a possible exhaustion, or if they did, postponed it
to years in the remote future. Yet there were signs already
that he had overtaxed his strength. He said nothing of
them, perhaps did not consciously recognize them as warn-
ings. Yet he knew that he needed some great change, and
the opportunity was here presented to him.
These personal considerations were reinforced by the most
earnest appeals from the University, its officers and its stu-
dents, and by others throughout the length and breadth of
the land, wherever the interests of Harvard were cherished.
The late Professor J. P. Cooke wrote to him :
Of the great opportunities for influence which the College
offers, you need no one's testimony; but I doubt if you appre-
ciate how very great they are. I have had an intimate knowledge
of the facts for some thirty years, and I speak of what I do know
when I say that your power here at this time would exert a
greater influence over the educated minds of the country than in
any other position however prominent. As is the case with all
planting, we are obliged to wait long for the fruit of our labor,
but it is a noble harvest when it comes. This is a place where
conviction at once leads to action, and you know this is not the
case where men are engrossed in the cares of the world. The one
place in the country to fight and overpower the agnosticism which
is weakening the religious faith and sapping the manhood of the
community is just here. You have a wonderful power, and I do
hope you can view this field of labor as I do.
mt. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 283
The College is offering you [wrote a prominent educator] the
very finest chance for working "Christo et Ecclesia " that has
ever before been offered to any man in this country.
The greatest religious opportunity in this country [wrote another
distinguished teacher] will be lost if you say No.
And who knoweth [were the words of Scripture quoted to him]
whether thou art come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?
You can touch [says a Unitarian clergyman] the young men at
Harvard. I will not say "you know to do it," for I doubt if you
do know how you do it. But God helping you, you do it.
Allow me to express my very earnest desire and hope [wrote
the late Dr. Ezra Abbot] that you will accept the call to Har-
vard, where I am sure your influence would be a power for good
hardly to be measured.
No other man [wrote one of the younger professors in the
College] has such a hold on the young men as you. No matter
what the explanation is, you do, as a fact, hold their ear and
their whole confidence. ... I believe you can do with these
thousand young men practically anything. . . . People of every
church would welcome you, without distinction of creed and with
open arms.
Among the clergy, as among the students, the sense of re-
ligious divisions was subordinated when they thought of
Phillips Brooks at Harvard. Yet in some of the letters there
is the consciousness that religious changes are impending,
not without significance. Most of the clerical opinion was
in favor of his remaining in Trinity Church. But there were
some exceptions. The late Rev. J. F. Garrison, a learned
and thoughtful Episcopal divine, not so widely known as he
deserved to be, writes :
My acquaintance with you is too slight to give me any right to
express an opinion to you upon so weighty a matter, but my sense
of its vast importance is so profound that I shall let it override
conventionalities. I feel that no congregation in this Union can
give you such a mighty field of work for God, just where it is
most needed, as there. To be the privileged teacher of thousands
of men, themselves well-nigh all to be in their future life in
o
284 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
some high sense teachers, and of such an institution, will enable
you to do a work for the cause of Christ such as is seldom offered
to a man. And in this age, when there are such intense mental
awakenings and so much silly orthodoxy quailing under them, to
have a man who knows how to be true to the essentials and yet
not bound in the grave clothes of dead formulas, seems to me one
of those providences of God you ought not to regard in any other
light or on personal grounds.
Among other letters which came to him was one from the
late Rev. John Henry Hopkins of Williamsport, Pa., the
son of the Bishop of Vermont with the same name, an eccle-
siastical controversialist all his life, devoted to High Church
principles, but also capable of seeing the larger bearings of
religious problems. He writes :
Your election to succeed Dr. Peabody at Harvard is the most
stunning fact in regard to religious changes that our country has
seen since the Cutler and Johnson tempest in the "good old colony
times." It means more than dozens of Rectorates or even Epis-
copates. Accept by all means. There ought not to be one
moment's hesitation, unless merely to enhance the effect of your
acceptance. Your acceptance will do more to leaven the intellect
of the land than can well be conceived of. Rejoicing with all my
heart in the wonderful field thus opening before you for wide-
spread good, I am, etc.
This following letter was from the late Dr. George E. Ellis,
who was watching the career of Phillips Brooks with an
interest deep and undisguised :
110 Marlborough Street, Boston, April 5, 1881.
Dear Mr. Brooks, "With inexpressible satisfaction do I
read in the papers that the Corporation of the College have invited
you to the office of the College Pastor. Allow me to say frankly
that I can think of no other minister of any denomination whom
I would so gladly see in that office, and whose accession to and
occupancy of it would be so grateful to our whole community, and
so hopeful of good to the College.
And I shall find this satisfaction in the call to you whether
your judgment and conscience decide on its acceptance or other-
wise, for I know that your decision will be made upon most
thoughtful religious deliberation on the way of duty. Hard in-
deed it must be for you to weigh the alternatives presented to
you.
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 285
In talking confidentially to one of the Corporation recently, I
said I did not believe they could find an able, earnest, and self-
respecting man who would be willing to accede to the office held
by Dr. Peabody on the conditions under which he had exercised
it. I think you yourself would exert a mastery over those con-
ditions. One might perhaps suppose that I should feel something
of a shock at the thought of the old Puritan College being minis-
tered to by an Episcopal clergyman. But 1 feel nothing of the
sort. Circumstances and relations, coining with the changes of
time, modifications of opinion and the expansion of the College,
I will not say reconcile me to the result, but dispose me to wel-
come it. Nothing will ever lower my sense of the profound
indebtedness of the obligations of this especial community to that
class of persons, clerical and lay, of the last generation, who were
known as Liberal Christians, devout, serious, earnest Bible Chris-
tians. Their works and services have left an enduring benefac-
tion to this good city and to the College. But with existing so-
called Unitarianism I have for many years had no concern. It
has left no authoritative basis for religious instruction and insti-
tution common to preachers and people. The preacher has for
his stock and capital his own individualism of opinion and belief,
and his utterances are like notes, dependent on his own credit and
integrity and resources, instead of current coin of Divine or
human realm.
Of course, I am wholly ignorant of any conditions offered or
required of you or by you in reference to the acceptance of the
discharge of the official duties proposed to you.
I have written these lines solely from the promptings of my
own loving respect for you, and in view of the gleam of a bright
way of relief for the College from what I feared would be an
almost hopeless difficulty. Excuse me if I have in any way tres-
passed upon delicacy or propriety.
Most sincerely yours,
George E. Ellis.
There were many other things said in connection with the
call by those who favored it, but the burden of the argument
has been given. It was well summed up in the Christian
Register (Unitarian), "Phillips Brooks would not be lost to
Boston, but would be gained by the whole country." Nor
could anything nobler in spirit be found than the attitude of
the Unitarians, who while they felt that the College was to be
no longer identified with the religious body which they repre-
286 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
sented, could yet rejoice in the call to Phillips Brooks, and
yield their support to the comprehensive and far-sighted policy
of the President of the University, as he sought to give reli-
gion the foremost place among the agencies and influences in
the college world.
Among the incidents of the campaign, as it may be called,
was a mass meeting of Harvard students, where speeches were
made and a petition signed, expressing not only the hope that
he would come, but the conviction that he could not refuse.
Accompanying the petition was a letter from the late Mr.
Frank Bolles, afterwards secretary of the College, whose
untimely death is still lamented :
You will receive to-day the signed copy of the resolution
passed at the great meeting of last evening. It was probably the
largest spontaneous meeting of students ever held here. The
Chapel was packed (it holds over three hundred), and more were
turned away than could find seats or standing room. The speeches,
all made by students, were so earnest, so full of confidence in
your coming that I wished you could have heard them and seen
for yourself what Harvard thinks of your coming. Of the speak-
ers, certainly seven to one were not churchmen, and throughout
the whole meeting not one word was said which did not show, not
only the deepest regard for you and admiration for your work,
but the fullest confidence that you would decide to come, and that
it was wise for you to come. I mail you a copy of the "call " for
the meeting, which was posted at eleven o'clock yesterday afternoon.
And now, my dear Mr. Brooks, I can only say a word or two
more of the much that I think about this matter.
I beg of you to remember in all this clamor, that we all knew
that you were doing a great work in Boston, that we all knew
how Boston valued you ; and yet when you were asked to come
here, we believed we were asking you to a more useful field, and
to a congregation of hearts whose devotion to your teaching would
bring forth even better fruit than that of Trinity parish.
Your coming here will be the opening of the new reformation
in thought and faith of American manhood. It will give the
needed example to all our great universities, and show them
that in calling to their chairs the great preachers of the day, they
will be laying the foundation of a revived faith among men, a
faith, which equipped with all that modern learning can afford,
will have a strength and vigor unknown in any earlier age of the
Church.
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 287
From the situation in Cambridge we turn to Boston and to
Trinity Church. The letters that came to Dr. Brooks urging
him to remain at his post were no less positive and exigent
in the expression of convictions than those advising his
acceptance of the call, but in number they exceeded them in
the proportion of ten to one. What he had been to Boston
in the twelve years of his ministry at Trinity Church it is
impossible to describe ; it must be left to the imagination to
conceive. He had become one of its foremost citizens, so
identified with the city that he had given it a new lustre
and reputation. Visitors to Boston from all parts of the
country and from abroad thought of it as the home of Phillips
Brooks. To see him or to hear him was one of the induce-
ments which led strangers to remain over Sunday, or brought
pilgrims as to some sacred shrine. Trinity Church during
these years had been like an open cathedral, the common
property of the people ; or, to change the figure, it had be-
come a vast confessional for human souls, whose spiritual
directorship was bringing strength and consolation, faith and
hope, to the thousands whom no man can number. At first
there had been symptoms of coldness, suspicion, or uncer-
tainty in the reception given to Phillips Brooks, but all that
was long gone by. Boston had taken him to its heart as well
as to its head. He had no superior, no rival in its affections.
It had been impossible, even had he wished it, to confine his
influence to the limits of his parish. He spoke to all, and his
heart went forth alike to all, without regard to distinctions of
class or religious sects. He had the freedom of the city and
its many suburban towns, and he had the freedom of all reli-
gious denominations.
The devotion to Phillips Brooks, it need not be said,
rested upon solid foundations at a very peculiar juncture in
the history of religious faith. He had risen up as a deliverer
from the causes that were shaking religious opinion and un-
dermining or destroying religious belief. There was no illu-
sion about it ; it was most real. The people are not mistaken
about these things. And yet there was danger of its becom-
ing a fashion to worship him. A distinguished clergyman,
288 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
who knew Boston well, remarked that so long as Phillips
Brooks remained there, it was impossible that any other
clergyman should be estimated at his true merits. The
remark was not meant to be disparaging, but only to state the
simple fact. It had reached such a point that the veriest
commonplaces of religious thought or sentiment when uttered
by him were received on his authority as true, or as if they
had never been spoken before. Those who listened to him
wrote down his remarks to send them away to their friends
as what Phillips Brooks had said. They treasured up his
sayings as the first principles of religion. He was the stan-
dard of comparison by which others were judged. The clergy
of Boston knew better than most the deeper significance of
Phillips Brooks's position. Nor was there a better test of
their manhood, or of their Christian character and power of
intellectual and spiritual appreciation, than when they asked
him to remain in Boston. There were some who thought
it would have been a gain to every one of them had he left.
They did not take this view. They knew, and they said to
him, that every church was the stronger for his presence in
the city, that they themselves were stronger to do their work,
that every agency for good was more effective under the
stimulus of his inspiration.
It had been one of the arguments for inducing him to go
to Harvard that he would influence the future teachers of
others as they passed through the College on their way into
the world. He was now reminded that he was doing this
work at Trinity. Teachers in the public and private schools
of Boston and the vicinity were drawn there in large numbers
by his magnetic influence, living by his strength, for some-
how he spoke to teachers of every grade, from the highest to
the lowest, as if teaching were his profession. And then
again, he was reminded that he need not go to Harvard to
meet young men, for there was a university in his own parish,
drawn in part from the College and from all the higher insti-
tutions of learning and professional schools in and around
Boston. Theological students came from their seminaries in
every direction to listen to the sermons on Sunday after-
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 289
noons, from Boston University, from Newton, and from
Cambridge. And they came also with the knowledge and
approval, even the recommendation of their teachers. It
would not, therefore, do to assume, as some had done,
that it would be no loss to Boston if he went to Harvard. In
this discussion the Governor of the Commonwealth of Massa-
chusetts took part. He, if any one, could speak for the city
and the State, and the value of his testimony is enhanced in
that he was not a member of the same religious communion :
April 13, 1881.
My dear Mr. Brooks, May I add my sincere word in be-
half of your remaining in Boston ? It seems to me in the interest
of the Commonwealth, with its population accumulating and its
young men gathering in its capital, that your close relation to
them should not be lost. The Harvard boys do not need you so
much. They have everything already. If they develop some
wild oats, yet the general surroundings of their college life lead
them to higher opportunities and standards sooner or later. But
your reach in Cambridge will be nothing compared with what it
is in Boston, extending to homes, families, the shop, the count-
ing-house, and every fibre of the city. I cannot help feeling that
to change would limit and not enlarge your work. I know your
own judgment is best, but I think you will pardon my suggestion
which is certainly sincere.
Very truly yours,
John D. Long.
The call had been given to Mr. Brooks in the latter part
of March, and by the middle of April the excitement had
grown to an unprecedented extent. The daily newspapers in
Boston teemed with communications, representing every point
of view. Throughout the country the conflict was watched in
its varying phases and commented on as having some strange
import for all the higher interests of life. It may be said for
Phillips Brooks that he was now waiting to give his answer,
not of his own volition, but because he was earnestly besought
to wait until the question should have been discussed in all
its bearings. Only in the multitude of counsellors was there
safety. Both parties in the conflict felt secure, if only time
could be taken for the fullest consideration.
VOL. II
290 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
One effect of the discussion was to make men realize as
they had not done before the unique greatness of the man in
whom the interest concentrated. In the history of pulpit
oratory, it was asked, who was there to compare with him?
He was to be ranked among those most eminent, whose fame
had come down through the ages, the few who came first to
the mind. Great names were recalled, St. Gregory Nazianzen
and St. Chrysostom, in the ancient church; St. Bernard,
St. Francis, Tauler, and Savonarola, in the Middle Ages;
Jeremy Taylor and Bossuet, in the seventeenth century,
that age of great preachers; Chalmers, or Tillotson, or
Beecher, in the modern world. What one among them all
was greater than he, especially when one took into considera-
tion the vast growth of the modern day, and recalled that he
was now moving by his voice or by his writings the English-
speaking world, with its colonies in every part of the globe?
There were those who took these things into consideration
and were impressed and awed as they revolved in their minds
the issue. This gift of inspired speech, so divine and so
rare, had he any right to endanger its possession for the
world by any experiment? All the conditions of his place
at Trinity Church had favored its expanding power. What
would be the result if he were to withdraw himself into the
seclusion of the University town? He was reminded that his
power as a preacher must in some real though subtle way
,be dependent on conditions which would be lost if he were
to abandon the pulpit of Trinity Church. Mr. Robert Treat
Paine wrote to him with these thoughts in his mind.
April 14, 1881.
Mv dear Brooks, Let me too pour out my heart to you,
about what is filling all our hearts. I know how you are over-
whelmed with counsels from all sides.
Take it in patience, and let it at least convince you of the Love
and Respect of the whole city for you, your hold on the heart of
the whole Community their terrible earnestness that you should
remain doing your grand work among them and their pain at
the thought that you may think it a duty to go.
What a sight this is ! A great city stirred at the fear of losing
you, and many sects, forgetting all sectarian ties, men as well as
>et. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 291
women, youths as well as strong men, uniting to speak out to
you, not only their affection, but their strong sense of how you
have brought to them and the whole city the Blessings of God.
Boston is just the city to-day for ideal work large enough
for a vast work to be done bad enough to be almost hopeless
good enough to fill us with hope passing into certainty. Boston
has a certain great privilege among the great cities of this coun-
try. She holds an influence second to none. Work done here
has a potency and value multiplied all over the land.
College life is full of fun and froth and frolic and frivolity and
scurrility. It is acutely critical. It turns into sport everything,
sacred and profane. Life is free there first full of joy and spar-
kle, full of study and sports, absorbed and preoccupied. Entire
absence of variety in experience; death, marriage, children, busi-
ness, failure, sickness, suffering, danger, all that makes adult life
so full, none of all this enters the life of the student. Gather
them together into a single audience, and it is the hardest in the
world to hold in constant interest to religion. Scatter them into
their own churches and it is far easier. Compel them to attend
at Appleton Chapel and some will be studying for the Lampoon,
and their spirit is contagious on all around.
Surely this is the least impressible part of life. It is not
responsive, it has no magnetism in it. The power of the Preacher
rises to the need. Great need is great inspiration. Life in a
great city with all the sufferings and joys and anxieties of the
infinitely varied lives of a multitude of men and women and chil-
dren crowding upon a minister's sympathies keep him full of fire,
and make him surpass himself.
The secluded life of a college minister, with boys critical and
cold and free, and so simple in their relations to life, lacks almost
every inspiration except Duty, stern Daughter of the Voice of
God. Others might go there and do as well as they could else-
where, but surely you feel the magnetic influence of responsive
numbers too powerfully not to know the danger of settling down
as the permanent, regular college preacher and professor. Not
that I make light of such important work, but the question is
where you can find the Great Field for those transcendent powers
which God has poured out upon you in such full measure. You,
the great Missionary to the Masses of the People ! You, who
have let us build a splendid Temple, full of beauty and art and
lavish outlay, because all unto God and a joy to offer this
splendid Temple not only, nay not so much, for ourselves, as for
the masses of the people, now and hereafter, setting a grand
example of rich and poor, of favored and unfavored, meeting to
2 9 2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
worship God! Can you, the people's leader, go apart to the
favored few, the sons of wealth, present or prospective, the sons
of culture, and leave the Great World behind ?
Among others who did much to clear up the issue and
bring all its aspects before Mr. Brooks was his friend
Colonel Charles R. Codman, who studied the situation with
the keen and practised eye of a man of affairs. He pointed
to a few actual facts which afforded the basis of a conclusive
deduction. Trinity Church was so near the University that
its students could attend there freely if they wished. In case
he went to Cambridge he would have only a fraction of its
students for an audience, for a large proportion of them
spent Sundays at their homes, and went to their various
places of worship. A large part of the University, indeed,
the Medical School, was in Boston. And more important
still, it had been in and from his place in Boston that he had
already exerted such an influence upon Harvard as to lead to
his call, and it was not necessary to go there to reside in
order to retain or increase his influence. It was also pointed
out what many felt, that the sectarian feeling really consti-
tuted an element in the problem. There would be jealousy
of him as an Episcopalian. Already in the communications
to the press this cry had been raised. The Episcopalians,
it was said, were "working like beavers " to secure the trans-
formation of Harvard College into an American Oxford and
to make it as far as possible an Episcopalian institution. If
he went to Cambridge he would have to suppress his own con-
victions and would not be as free as at Trinity. The doctrine
of the Trinity, the liturgical worship of the Prayer Book, the
method of the Christian year, he could not keep these colors
flying for fear of some sectarian protest. The truth was
simply this, that the University had outgrown the possibility
of any longer being ministered to in its spiritual life by any
one clergyman, no matter to what denomination he might
belong.
The Episcopal clergy for the most part were agreed that
the Church would suffer a greater loss by his removal than
the College would gain. Those more especially who looked
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 2 93
to Phillips Brooks as a leader, leavening the Episcopal Church
with the elements of a more comprehensive theology, and
weakening the ecclesiastical stringency which separated it
from other Protestant communions, were unanimous in the
expression of their conviction that it would be nothing short
of a calamity if he abandoned the parish ministry. He would
gradually lose his identification with the Episcopal Church
altogether.
There were still other considerations which had their
weight. "The aptitude of the student mind," wrote the Rev.
C. C. Tiffany, "to sheer off from the direction of official
teachers, especially preachers, gives me the conviction,
that in your present position you affect these students more
positively than you could from the University pulpit." The
Rev. William R. Huntington fastened upon a point which
no one else had urged. The post to which Mr. Brooks had
been called carried with it not only the preaching in the
University pulpit, but the work of a teacher in the chair
of Christian Ethics. "A sophomore," wrote Dr. Huntington,
" is not likely to be the more interested in your preaching on
account of your having given him, the week previous, a poor
mark in his examination paper."
There were letters from representative business men in
Boston pleading in behalf of those who were neither scholars
nor teachers, but that large class of young men who would
influence the business interests of Boston in the future. One
of them, from an old schoolmate and dear friend, will be
read with interest :
Boston, April 12, 1881.
Dear old Chap, Forty years is it since we began learning
Latin and mischief together you the Latin and I the mischief ?
Since which we have never had a cross word, and so I will run
the chance of one by impertinence.
Folks say that the College is asking for you ; and it is true, I
know. Since you took your course for life, you have gone on
steadily and enthusiastically until you 've won a great place.
Just think of the empty old church and of the present full church !
Just think of the men and women of the intelligent and educated
classes whom you've drawn into your fold! Think what these
294 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
men will do for the less fortunate people of our city, and still
more think how your women work ! We have not seen the like
for a great, great while. It has fallen to you to do this thing,
and I will not pass on your deserts, but merely on your luck to
have done something in this life worth doing. Is not that what
we all are after, and what goes far to save us from remorse or
despair? How can a chap be content for a day, unless he is aim-
ing at something of a serious kind ? It is the only theory on
which one can explain this life, isn't it? And how many of our
comrades have made a success of their lives ? or how often does it
occur in our experience to see it?
You have, no matter how or why; and still more the future
for you is greater in promise than the past has been in perform-
ance. Don't dream of leaving your own field. Your personal
contact with all these folks is a necessity, if you will go on.
How can you then think of Cambridge and the dear old Univer-
sity? You can't work on those boys in the same way, simply
because they are at the questioning, critical, restless age. The
worst of them are not bad, but frivolous or idle-minded. The best
of them are seeking for the truth everywhere, and had better seek
by themselves. Let them ferment. Of course you can help
many a restless spirit, when he wishes to be helped but you can
do it as well here as at Cambridge. You certainly can talk to
or preach to or teach them at Cambridge occasionally as in
Boston. But, for Heaven's sake, don't leave your stronghold for
this new field. It would be the mistake of your life and you
will rue it deeply and forever.
Now how do I know ? I do not know, and yet I feel absolutely
sure of it. I 've talked to some of the middle-aged and some of
the younger folk of it, and listened with much interest to but
one reply.
You know that personally I get nothing from your being in
town. We both are too busy to meet often unless at church; and
there I do not go. So I am free from bias. But I can't but
feel much interested in your work, and glad of your great influ-
ence. Don't risk losing it don't go away until your sun sets.
This letter calls for no reply. If it annoys you, burn it and
forgive me for the sake of old times. I know that it is presum-
ing, impertinent, arrogant even. It has not one word of praise
or admiration for you. Such a word is not called for or needed,
but no one can value work and enthusiasm more than I. You
know full well how I feel about your life.
God bless you, old fellow.
Henry L. Higginson.
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 295
As the time went on the forces that multiplied against the
call were stronger than those in favor of it. If the students
of Harvard had a mass meeting to urge his coming, so also a
mass meeting was held in Boston in Huntington Hall, at
which hundreds of young men raised their voices in protest
against his leaving. The entire membership of the Young
Men's Christian Association signed their names to a request
that he should remain in Boston. There came the same
request in a petition from the large business establishment
of C. F. Hovey & Co., signed by more than fifty names.
Other petitions there were, with the names of prominent busi-
ness firms appended. It was no slight consideration with
Phillips Brooks that the members of his own family were
opposed to his going. The wise counsel of the Kev. Arthur
Brooks, in whose judgment he placed great confidence, con-
demned on the whole what seemed a doubtful experiment.
The bishop of the diocese asked him to remain. Trinity
Church spoke in its organic capacity through the wardens
and vestry :
Boston, April 11, 1881.
To the Reverend Phillips Brooks, D. D., We, the "War-
dens and Vestrymen of Trinity Church, feel it our duty to address
you on the invitation that you have received to become the
preacher to the University at Cambridge.
As individuals, we have expressed our personal wishes that your
relations to the Parish may continue for many years, but we have
not hitherto felt called upon to take official action.
We were confident that you thoroughly understood our feelings,
and we have desired not to embarrass you by any act of ours.
But we cannot forget that we are the chosen representatives
of the Proprietors of Trinity Church, and we feel that we should
not be acting justly to them, nor to the large number of worship-
pers who are connected with the Parish, if we did not in their
behalf affectionately, but most urgently and earnestly, beg you to
consider well, not only what may be your duty to them, but to
the larger community to whom you have ministered. We speak
not only for ourselves, but for the highest spiritual interests of
those whom we immediately represent, and chiefly for the city in
which we live, to great numbers of whose inhabitants our Parish,
altogether from your connection with it, has been and is a blessing.
We beg you to remember and this with no desire to pain you
296 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
by saying anything that may seem extravagant, but solely from our
regard for what we believe to be the simple truth that the pulpit
of Trinity Church has given you the opportunity, which you have
improved with results altogether unparalleled, to exercise an
influence for good upon the people of this city, including all
classes and both sexes, the young and the old, the poor and
the rich. Parents are thanking you for the blessing to their chil-
dren of growing up inspired by you, and they cannot see the pos-
sibility of your going from them without speaking out to you
their sense of loss.
The mothers, wives, and daughters of our great congregation
have seen under your ministry new visions of life and love and
work and devotion to Christ. Business men, full of the sense of
life and power, are moved mightily by your words to consecrate
their lives to the service of God.
The young men of the city, of our schools, our colleges, our
stores and homes, know the way to Trinity Church, and go there
at the critical moments of their lives, when perhaps for years
before they have been unimpressible, and go away inspired and
consecrated, and carrying your power widely through the land.
Those of our community who are not the favored ones of the
earth in education or worldly circumstances have received from
your words comfort and courage, and many of these would sadly
feel the loss of your presence from their homes and families, in
their hour of sorrow or distress.
The work that you are doing is one of transcendent importance.
It is steadily growing and cannot be left to suffer or halt. We
solemnly believe that if you will appreciate this work and its infi-
nite needs, you must come to our conclusion, that no other place
can give you so much power for good.
Trinity Church, with its open doors, its generous welcome, its
great congregations, its varied audiences gathered from every sect
and section of the city, attracting the men and women of thought
and influence from all parts of the country as they pass through
Boston, Trinity Church as a means of carrying your power
and inspiration into the hearts and lives of the whole people, far
surpasses in our judgment any other possible field of usefulness.
Your parishioners have not believed it possible that you could
take a different view ; and if they have seemed silent, we who
know their strong and unanimous feeling can assure you that it
has been from a conviction that a separation was impossible, and
because they have shrunk from believing that such a thing could
be seriously contemplated.
The grief which all your people feel at the suggestion of your
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 297
withdrawal from the Rectorship cannot adequately he expressed
hy any words of ours. They do not dare to contemplate the ef-
fect of your departure upon all the activities and missionary work
of the parish already vigorous and rapidly developing; still less,
its effect upon the Parish itself.
We heg you to allow them ample time and opportunity to ex-
press their feelings and wishes hefore you come to a final decision.
We ask you to determine nothing until you have heard the repre-
sentations that will he made by many persons of whose deep and
personal concern in your decision you are possibly not now aware ;
and when you have heard all that can be said by those for whom
we speak, we trust and believe that it will be given you to see that
it is your present duty not to abandon the field in which God has
made it manifest that your power and influence can do a great
work for the souls of all conditions of men.
Charles Henry Parker ) w ,
Charles R. Codman \
Thomas C Amory, John C. Ropes, Stephen G. Deblois, C J.
Morrill, B. F. Nourse, Robert Treat Paine, Jr., William Amory,
Jr., Edward D. Peters, Samuel Eliot, Robert M. Cushing, Vestry.
Phillips Brooks had sometimes doubted whether his work
at Trinity were successful, judged by the higher standard of
success. He had longed for some response, which he did not
get, which indeed it was almost impossible to give, to those
impassioned, exalted appeals which he poured forth, Sunday
after Sunday, year after year. But from this time he could
have had no doubt as to his place in the hearts of his con-
gregation. Into the sacred confidences of personal letters,
where he was told what he had been to the hundreds of fami-
lies in his congregation, we must not enter. They have one
common feature, a determination that he should know at
last, not merely in a general way but by the unveiling of
individual experiences, that his work at Trinity had been the
agency under God of illumination and consolation, of moral
reformation and of spiritual life.
There is still one point to be mentioned, as the vision
gradually faded from his mind, of the possibilities involved
in the call to Harvard. In one of the letters which came to
him there is this remark :
There is one other thing that I hardly dare to say. I cannot
2 9 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
believe, as some people do, that you care only for your work with
men. It would be too ignoble a thought. But I do believe that
you think women by nature more religious, less needy than they
are. You do not feel always that triumph and joy in helping
them that you do in helping men. But when you give up a mixed
congregation, do you realize what a tremendous indirect influence
upon men you lose, men who never care for church or preacher but
who have homes? You spoke not long ago of the queenly power
in the household as the most subtle though the least manifest.
Only to-day some one said to me, "Our home is utterly different
since we went to Trinity Church ; we are different people. " And
this is only one.
A gentleman in his congregation wrote to him with refer-
ence to the same point :
I think more Harvard students hear you preach every Sunday
in Trinity Church, brought there mostly through the influence of
women in one way or another, than would hear you on Sundays in
Cambridge ; for most students that live in Boston and vicinity
spend their Sundays at home. I believe women are the minister's
strongest support in religion and all other good works, and the
great secret of the power of the Roman Catholic Church is its in-
fluence over and through them. Most men, in my belief, that join
the Church do so directly or indirectly through their influence, and
the best way to reach young men is through them. It seems to
me that in losing the direct aid and support of women, you would
be losing more power than you have any conception of.
No words except those of the writers of these letters can
adequately portray the "terrible earnestness," the "intense
anxiety," the "severity of the shock," the "fearful strain,"
the "sorrow and the gloom," of that long, agonizing day at
Trinity Church when this question was pending. But it was
also a day not wholly dark, for the trial cemented more
strongly the already strong bond of unity in the parish.
People and minister alike were impressed anew with the
reality of the religious life. If the people realized what the
ministry of Phillips Brooks had been to them, he too was
made to know, as he had not known before, what was the
work which it had been given him to do. He did not forget
the lesson. There was to follow still another epoch in his
life, when its fruit would become manifest. It might seem
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at. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 299
as if he had now exhausted the line of ministerial experiences,
or as if he had reaped the highest earthly reward for which a
man can hope in this world. He appeared to be standing on
the highest pinnacle of fame. But yet he was to be called
to take another step in the way of self-renunciation, before
the sacrifice should be complete.
The letters of Phillips Brooks relating to this incident in
his life tell us but little of what he thought or felt. Yet in
this very circumstance a light is thrown on his character.
He was bewildered and hardly knew what to think. His
mind was rent with contradictory impulses. There was
something in him of the feminine mood which led him to go
where he was wanted. He would like to have gone to Cam-
bridge, but he also wanted to remain at Trinity. To go, or
to remain, meant some inward suffering. These are a few of
his letters :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, March 31, 1881.
Dear Arthur, I have been elected by the Corporation of
Harvard College to be Preacher to the University. ... I wish
you would tell me when you have a leisure moment what you
think of my resigning Trinity and going there. I am much
puzzled. Many things about it attract me very much indeed.
Tell me perfectly frankly what you think. But don't mention
the matter till you hear it in some other way, for it is not " out "
yet. I count much on hearing your judgment about it.
Boston, April 4, 1881.
Dear Arthur, I want to thank you right off for your kind
letter. It stated both sides very satisfactorily and I think on
the whole inclined towards "Go to Cambridge." I incline very
much that way myself, more because I don't see exactly how it
is possible to decline the call than because I particularly want to
go. But I think it will come to going, unless you write me
speedily to tell me some overwhelmingly convincing reason why
I should decide otherwise. . . .
To the Kev. Dr. George E. Ellis he writes :
233 Clarendon Street, April 5, 1S81.
My dear Dr. Ellis, I must thank you at once and with
all my heart for your letter. I thank you for its friendliness
and for its wisdom. Both will help me. While I feel, of course,
that the difficult question which is given to me must be answered
3 oo PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
by myself, it is very good indeed to know how those whom I
esteem and honor feel about it, and how my acceptance of the
place, if I should venture to accept it, will be regarded by them.
I am in no danger of underestimating the interest and impor-
tance of the work in Cambridge. I am much more likely to err
by being afraid of it than by being indifferent to it. It would
offer the most delightful and satisfactory life that any mortal
minister could live. I shall always thank you, my dear Dr.
Ellis, for your letter and for the kindness which made you write it.
Most faithfully yours,
Phillips Brooks.
To the Rev. Percy Browne he writes :
Fast Day Morning, April 7.
I can't thank you as I wish I could, dear Percy, for your let-
ter. It makes me feel frightfully ashamed of myself when I hear
that you really care so much about what I decide to do. I feel
like a horrible fraud. I know it is not a great matter for the
Church or the world whether I go or stay, but I do want to
make what life I have still to live tell as much as I can, all the
more because I honestly feel every year more and more how poor
it is. I think now that this feeling will carry me to Cambridge,
but it is far from settled, and you and my other friends must
have patience with my hesitation. Only, my dear Percy, don't
talk as if the going to Cambridge would break or even strain the
friendship and intercourse which has been growingly one of the
greatest treasures of my life here. If you are going to give me
up, why that settles it, I won't go. No, we will have Monday
morning somewhere in Cambridgeport, or if you won't come there
I '11 come to Millmont Street.
I thank you more than I can say.
To the Rev. John C. Brooks he writes :
April 13, 1881.
A
Dear Johnnie, A thousand thanks (in a great hurry) for
your kind letter and your good sympathy. I am getting to feel
just as you do about it all, and I don't believe that I shall go.
The work at Trinity looks more and more. The chance (though
not the need) at Cambridge less and less. It is n't settled and
probably won't be for a week. . . .
One of the earliest and most important of these letters
is addressed to Dr. Vinton, at Pomfret, whose counsel and
blessing on all the changes in his life he had invoked hitherto,
without which no event was complete :
jet. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 301
Dear Doctor, You won't forget that you are to come and
spend Passion Week here and go to church all the time and preach
as much as you can, will you? Let me know just when I may
meet you at the station and you shall have the cordialest of
welcomes.
I want to see you very much. I want to talk with you about
Cambridge, whither I have been called and whither it seems now
as if I might iro. Don't fail to come. It will be the last chance
perhaps to get you under this roof.
Affectionately yours, P. B.
Dr. Vinton came up from his retirement at Pomf ret, it
was to be for the last time. For several days he remained
the guest of Mr. Brooks at the Clarendon Street rectory.
Then, as we know, the question was turned over in all its
aspects, with calmness and dignity and the sense of repose
after the excitement. To Dr. Vinton he sent this letter,
announcing that he had declined the call to Harvard :
April 18, 1881.
Dear Doctor, I write to you at once to say that the thing
is settled and I am to stay at Trinity. President Eliot was very
courteous, said that he was sorry and did n't know where to look ;
and then I came away. It was the quietest death of the pretty
little project that you can conceive of, and the pretty little pro-
ject never looked so pretty as it does now in death. Just at this
moment I feel as if I would rather be Preacher at Cambridge than
Rector of fifty Trinities. But I think it 's all right, and I cannot
thank you enough for the kind patience with which you listened
hour after hour to the endless talk about it all. You must have
been badly bored, but it was very good of you and I do thank
you. . . .
Well, on Thursday we meet in Philadelphia and Sunday we are
in New York. Till then adieu.
Gratefully yours, P. B.
To another friend on the same day he wrote, "I hope it 's
all right, but I 'm awfully blue about it." His call on Pre-
sident Eliot had been a severe ordeal; his face was pallid
during the short interview, as of a man who saw egress denied
him at a critical moment and his life shut up, for his future
years, to a work from whose limitations and its fearful strain
on all his vital powers he had dreamed for a moment of
302 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
escaping. It was the old story with which we are familiar
already in his history. There was not the time in his parish
ministry to read, or study, or think. Under these conditions
the task of preaching began to loom up more formidably
before his eyes. From this time he began to forecast the
future with misgivings and an occasional touch of despond-
ency.
What, then, shall be said upon " the merits of the question " ?
In view of his own profound silence, one's words must be
brief and cautious for fear of error. We may believe that
if he had accepted the call to Harvard, he would have made
no failure. He was wise; he would have committed no mis-
take by attempting too much ; he was under the restraints of
sobriety of judgment ; he knew what was in men and how to
address them. President Eliot saw that, amid the conflict-
ing variety of opinion, this was the point to be kept in the
foreground. He went to the friends of Phillips Brooks who
were doing their utmost to keep him in Boston, and in answer
to the question whether Mr. Brooks could exert an ideal
influence at Cambridge, he received from them all the tes-
timony that he could desire. "As they testify with reluc-
tance," he wrote to Mr. Brooks, "their testimony is the more
trustworthy." We may also believe that had he given his
remaining years to study, he would have surely left a stu-
dent's mark upon the thought of the world.
And again, he did not like the exceptional position which
he held. In going to Harvard he would have passed from
the glare of publicity into the simple quiet life which he
coveted. He could do there his work as a teacher with at
least the same success as any man. He alludes to this feel-
ing as possibly a touch of the boyish morbidness which had
led him to feel that in going into the ministry he was crawl-
ing into obscurity. There was a certain contradiction in his
being, as though two lives were struggling within him for
the ascendency. He would have liked to lead the life of his
father, doing an honorable man's work without ostentation.
He might have married, he was a man who could have given
himself to and lived for one woman. He was torn by an
mt. 45] CALL TO HARVARD 303
inward contradiction. For when he was living so publicly,
for all the world, confiding to the sermon his most intimate
feeling and thought, he could not belong to any one in the
same interior way. It may then have seemed to him like a
last chance to reconstruct his life.
He acquiesced in the verdict, knowing that an opportunity
had been lost which would not return. Yet was he convinced
that he had done the right thing. The voice of God and the
people assured him. There seems to be here something of
supernatural direction. A call had come to him again with
renewed force to give himself in more complete self -surrender
to the larger number who wanted him.
There came another series of letters after the decision had
been announced, for the most part of a congratulatory char-
acter. Among them is one from the president of Haverford
College, in Pennsylvania, who had been watching the situation
with deep interest :
April 25, 1881.
Dear Mr. Brooks, I am not surprised by your decision,
which the newspapers announce this morning, nor can I blame it,
for it is a serious thing to leave a post of great usefulness, how-
ever strong the inducements to enter another. But will you not,
even more than before, be an unofficial pastor and teacher for those
Harvard boys, and help them to find the substantial reality amidst
the fogs and darkness of our times ? You would certainly be
welcome at any time in the College pulpit ; and, regarding it as
a simply Christian and undenominational position, can you not
occasionally address the students from it ? Can it not be under-
stood, too, that there will always be a seat at Trinity for any
Harvard boy?
But wherever you speak, I beg you to feel that you are priv-
ileged to command the attention of men at a very critical period
in the history of Christianity. Religion and morality itself are
menaced by wild and one-sided speculations ; but you will continue
to teach that there is an eternal, unchangeable moral law, a God
in whom we can trust, a Saviour to whom we can cling.
I had pleased myself with a day-dream of you at Cambridge as
a better Newman, leading the intellectual hope of the country, not,
like the Oxford preacher, into the lions' den, but to the promised
land. It may be, however, that you will be almost as influential
in the University from Boston as from any "Appleton Chapel,"
3 o 4 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881
however enlarged, at the same time that your influence over the
whole country will be wider from your present post.
Let me tell you that I have often read your printed sermons
here, on Sunday afternoons, with great satisfaction both to them
and myself.
Ever very truly yours,
Thomas Chase.
There is a sense, then, in which Harvard University gained
in the struggle. The whole subject of religion came up for
discussion, and the old arrangement was abandoned by which
one man ministered to the miscellaneous body of students.
A body of chaplains was constituted, of which Mr. Brooks
was one, who, coming in from outside, with a wider range in
the observation and experience of life, could bring their
spiritual force to bear upon the college life. This plan which
Harvard was the first to adopt was gradually introduced into
other colleges. During the next ten years of his life, Phillips
Brooks seemed to have at his command the open door to stu-
dents' life, throughout the leading colleges in the country.
It was an additional burden, but he thought of it as a glorious
privilege. It was Harvard University that was sending him
forth with this mission. She had placed her seal upon him
as the great University preacher.
CHAPTER XI
1881-1882
MEMORIAL SERMON ON DR. VINTON. DEATH OF DEAN
STANLEY. SPEECHES AT CHURCH CONGRESS. SECOND
VOLUME OF SERMONS. THE STANLEY MEMORIAL. DEATH
OF DR. STONE. REQUEST FOR LEAVE OF ABSENCE FOR
A YEAR
On April 26, 1881, Dr. Vinton died at the age of seventy-
four. The eulogy which Phillips Brooks pronounced upon
him in a memorial sermon preached at Emmanuel Church,
Boston, and again in the Church of the Holy Trinity, Phila-
delphia, was published by request in pamphlet form, but de-
serves a permanent place among his writings, for it is the
description of an ideal which had been before him from his
boyhood. For nearly forty years these two lives had been
intertwined. A few extracts from this sermon will show
what the relationship had been, how profound had been the
influence of the older man upon the younger, but incidentally
they show us what manner of man was Phillips Brooks. Thus
he describes Dr. Vinton as the great presbyter, to whom
the episcopate would have been no gain. He is interpreting
the working of the organization of the church by his own ex-
perience when he says :
And so he was in his true place in that degree of the ministry
where preaching is the constant duty. Once or twice they talked
of making him a bishop. But it was well in his heart, I think
he knew that it was well, that they who formed such plans for
him did not succeed. So far as it would have separated him
from the pulpit where he belonged, it would have been a loss and
not a gain. The great work of the church lies with the presby-
ters. The deacon saves the presbyter from some details of work
vol. u.
3 o6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
that he may be the freer for his tasks. The bishop watches the
ramparts of the church and secures for the presbyter the condi-
tions of peaceful and effective labor. But the great work of the
church is in the presbyters. And this was our great presbyter.
That is his name and honor. A bishopric could never have in-
creased his dignity, while it must have weakened his power and
fretted his life out with minute details. He was our great pres-
byter, the elder, the brother, with a special experience and educa-
tion, but still the elder brother, telling his brethren in brotherly
simplicity and earnestness the truth of God.
Here follows a description of the pastoral office as em-
bodied in Dr. Vinton, always before the mind of Phillips
Brooks as his own ideal :
I stop a moment and think of that great pastorship, of all it
meant to countless souls ; and to have lived in it and carried it
on as he did seems to me to be an indescribable, an inestimable
privilege. A great pastorship is the noblest picture of human
influence and of the relationship of man to man which the world
has to show. It is the canonization of friendship. It is friend-
ship lifted above the regions of mere instinct and sentiment and
fondness, above all thought of policy or convenience, and exalted
into the mutual helpfulness of the children of God. The pastor
is father and brother both to those whose deepest lives he helps
in deepest ways. His belonging to his people is like the broad
spreading of the sky over the lives of men and women and little
children, of good and bad, of weak and strong, on all of whom
alike it sheds its rain and dew. Who that has ever known such
a pastorate can believe that death, which sets free all the best
and purest things into a larger spiritual being, ends the relation-
ship of soul to soul which a true pastorship involves?
It is with profound respect that he goes on to speak of Dr.
Vinton's theology, from which he had diverged. Many and
earnest had been the discussions between them on this sub-
ject, as they maintained their differing views, but always
with mutual deference and toleration :
He won in the community where he lived a profound respect
for the theology which he preached; not necessarily an acceptance
of it, but a respect for it. No people listening to him could
think that the theology of the Incarnation and the Atonement
was irrational or absurd. There never was a pulpit which more
jet. 45-46] SERMON ON DR. VINTON 307
clearly uttered a definite truth than his, and yet there never was
a pulpit more respected. . . . Many of us who listened to Dr.
Vinton thirty years ago have seen truth differently now from the
way in which he showed it to us then, hut we have seen it still
with eyes that he helped to open ; and many a vision which he
never bade us see, but which is now our joy and feast and inspi-
ration, we owe still to his ministry, and may thank him for it,
next to God.
The change in the religious outlook which comes to every
new generation is a trying experience to the older men, who
would fain have the world abide by the conclusions they
themselves have reached. Dr. Vinton bore himself well
under this ordeal a model to young men who in their turn
must encounter the same difficulty.
Those years from 1858 to 1861 were interesting years to any
minister of our church, because of the new drifts and tendencies
of Christian thought which were beginning to become pronounced.
Ritualism and rationalism were claiming their places in the
church. Especially in the latter of these two directions the move-
ment became vigorous and prominent about that time. The
famous "Essays and Reviews " were published in 1860, and the
whole liberal or broad church tendency attracted the interest of
thinking men. It would not be right to try to sketch the life of
Dr. Vinton, and not to tell how he regarded that movement in
which he was, through all the last years of his life, so deeply inter-
ested. He mistrusted it and feared it. He disagreed with many
of its processes and most of its conclusions. At the same time
he never withheld his friendshijj and his love from those who were
most earnestly in sympathy with it, nor ever gave them anything
but help and godspeed in their work. He never recoiled from
it with horror. And his own spirit, which, above the spirit of
any other man I ever knew, was devout without the slightest taint
of superstition, had much to contribute, both in the way of check
and in the way of stimulus, to the new thought of the younger
men in whose society so much of the years which still remained to
him was passed. . . . For my part, I thank Dr. Vinton for
many and many a word even of protest against what I thought
was true, which, while it made me more anxious and careful
to be sure that what I thought was truth was really true, made
me also more earnest in holding it as I became convinced that
I was not mistaken. And I am sure that his great soul would
not grudge me that gratitude. And I think that it is one which
3 o8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
many others share with me. . . . He has been the Socrates to
many a poor boy's unborn power of thinking. He was never
shocked at honest heresy, however earnestly he argued to disprove
it and dislodge it. He has set many a glad soul free from the
constraint of what it thought it ought to believe and sent it out
to the delight of a real faith.
There came a letter in response to this sketch of Dr. Vin-
ton from a distinguished Congregational clergyman, which
forms part of the record, showing that Dr. Vinton's power
continued to be felt through the influence of Phillips Brooks's
portrayal :
Boston, September 13, 1881.
My dear Brother, I can address you by no other name
since reading, as I have just done, your Memorial Sermon on
Dr. Vinton. Never by anything you have before written have I
been so profoundly stirred as by parts of this noble discourse. I
am not ashamed to tell you that tears have fallen on the pages
where you describe a great pastorship as "the noblest picture of
human influence," and where you tell of Dr. Vinton's work in
the national judgment day of this generation.
Rebuked and humbled have I been by the vision you have given
me of a great life, the humbling I trust to be followed by new
inspirations to a higher service of Christ. Indeed, I now believe
that no such moral quickening has come to me for years as I have
had on this blessed morning.
Within a few weeks I am to go from my work here to the
pastorate of the First Presbyterian Church of Chicago. In the
one happy year of my ministry in Boston, I have felt the inspira-
tion, not only of your words, but of your nearness, and I cannot
go away without telling you of it.
There creeps into the correspondence of Phillips Brooks
at this time the evidence of some physical weariness. He
found, so he writes, the sermon on Dr. Vinton one of the
hardest things that he had ever undertaken ; and he men-
tions that while he was writing it the weather was atrocious.
He declines an invitation to take a journey, which would call
for physical activity or endurance, on the ground that he is
no longer good for such things. On hearing that one of his
clerical friends proposed to take a long rest of more than a
jet. 45-46] SERMON ON DR. VINTON 309
year, he says: "It is getting to be kind of tame and vulgar
to plod right on. But it is pleasant nevertheless."
It was a novel event at Harvard, creating a deep interest,
when the " (Edipus Tyrannus " was given in Sanders Theatre.
No one was more interested in following it than Phillips
Brooks, for the Greek tragedies had formed an essential part
in his education. He speaks of it as a "most tremendous
success."
Among the important books which appeared in 1881 was
Dr. Mulford's "Republic of God." It was important be-
cause it broke the long silence of the younger men, speaking
for them on the religious issues of the day. Mr. Brooks was
asked to review it for "The Atlantic Monthly," but declined.
He read it, however, despite its philosophic terminology,
against which he rebelled. To a lady who wrote to him a
few years later, after Dr. Mulford's lamented death, asking
his opinion of the book, he wrote :
Dr. Mulford was a most interesting man, and his book is one
of the most inspiring and exasperating things that anybody ever
wrote. It is as bright and deep and vague as the sky. It will
never be much read, but a few men will get out of it what they
will interpret to the world. He was not a man for the ecclesias-
ticism of the Church to make much out of, but he was felt, and
his loss nobody can make good.
Mr. Brooks took no vacation from preaching during the
summer of 1881. Every Sunday found him in his place in
the pulpit of Trinity Church. But he gained some relief
from the burden of pastoral cares in visiting his parishion-
ers in their summer homes. It was a summer long to be re-
membered because of the assassination of President Garfield,
when for weeks the country was in suspense waiting for the
fatal issue. To the Rev. James P. Franks he writes :
Boston, 233 Clarendon Street, July 3, 1881.
Dear James, ... This week has been Commencement and
4>. B. K., and we have been revelling in Wendell Phillips and George
William Curtis. It was very beautiful, and made eloquence seem
as easy as breathing. Arthur and John were both here, and we
had a very beautiful time and sentimentalized about the lapse of
3 io PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
time in a very maudling sort of way. Then, when that was over,
I went yesterday and spent a day with Charles Parker, the Senior
Warden of Trinity, who has just returned from Europe, and when
I came home from there this morning, we were met with the
President's assassination. How it hrings back that awful Friday
sixteen years ago, only this is more wretched because it is not
connected with any great issue and has no more dignity than must
always belong to death if it is to be death. The assassin seems
to have been the most miserable moonstruck vagabond and his
object nothing more than disappointed spite. I met on the
street just after we had heard of it this morning, and he told me
of an article he had been writing upon the folly of allowing the
President of the United States to go about without a bodyguard !
Every goose will sting his own sermon into the dreadful tragedy.
I saw , and he had several delightful and subtle theories
about it. But the one thing to do now is to hope that Garfield
will get well and that we shall be spared the infliction of Arthur
as President. We shall pray for the President to-night at the
"usual meeting previous to the Communion." Well, all this is to
tell you why I have n't come to Beverly to thank you for asking
me to come. And now, though I am to be in Beverly twice next
week, I am afraid I shall not tread your hospitable piazza before
our Mountain tour. The truth is that the Summer looks as if
it were going to use itself up in a sort of parish visiting on a big
scale. ... It is the old struggle of duty and desire, and, of
course, with you and me duty conquers. But it 's only a week
from next Monday when we start under William's care for the
Mountains that will be the Cor Cordium of the Summer. Till
then we '11 think of one another, and you will give my Love to
S and the chickens.
Ever affectionately, P. B.
The summer brought another sorrow, in the death of Dean
Stanley, which took place July 18. On first hearing the sad
intelligence he wrote to Rev. Arthur Brooks :
July 22, 1881.
The suddenness of the Dean's death is most startling and seems
to flash all that was lovable and beautiful about him upon one
with a terrible sense of loss. We shall not see another such in-
teresting man in our day, and I have a sort of feeling as if the
Abbey and the Deanery could not possibly be standing there in
the old way we used to know them, now that he is gone. Well,
it is a good thing that he has lived and a delightful recollection to
have known him.
jet. 45-46] DEATH OF STANLEY 3 1 1
To Lady Frances Baillie, a sister-iu-law of Dean Stanley,
he wrote :
233 Clarendon Street, July 23, 1881.
My dear Lady Frances, I hope that I shall not seem to
you strangely intrusive if I try to tell you something of my deep
sympathy with you and of the deep thankfulness with which I
think of our dear friend's beautiful life. It seems to me as per-
fect a picture of human living as the world has ever seen, and
what it suggests and promises for his great future, for the other
life (as we blindly call it) which he has begun, is past all expres-
sion. My first thought is all of him, of the rich and sacred
delight which has come to that insatiable appetite for truth and
that deep love for God.
But when I let myself think of all his kindness to me, of how
he has welcomed me with that beautiful welcome of his which was
like no other man's, of how England has been bright and tempt-
ing to me, most of all because he was there, the world seems
sadly altered now that I shall never see him again.
I remember so perfectly the first time I saw him. Lady
Augusta was with him in the Library of the dear old Deanery,
and before we had loosened hands, it was as if she and he had
given me the right to count them friends forever. That was in
1874, and from that day on, with all his cares and interests, he
was so full of thoughtful kindness, that he did not even let me
think how little right I had to any word or thought of his. But
I did give him, and I will give him always, that love and grati-
tude which is all that such as I am can give to such as he is.
Surely we cannot lose him. We have not lost him. We are
with him in the love of God in which he rests at peace.
I wish that I could tell you what he was when he was here in
America; what friends he made, what a memory of him remains,
and what a multitude of hearts are mourning for him, as if he
was their friend.
But more than this is the blessed work that he has done for
Christ and for the Church. That cannot die. It will be part of
the great future for which he kept such an unfaltering hope, and
which we may believe he now discerns with perfect clearness.
And it is sweet for us all because he believed in it so.
Will you forgive me if I ought not to have written, for his
sake. I send my kindest remembrance to your daughter, and I
am, with truest sympathy,
Sincerely yours,
Phillips Brooks,
3 i2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
Phillips Brooks now for the first time broke the rule to
which he had hitherto invariably adhered, and in response
to a call from the editor of "The Atlantic Monthly" wrote
his article on "Dean Stanley." 1 For two months he gave
himself up to the task, collecting material enough in the pre-
paration for it to have made a considerable volume. Only
a fraction of what he desired to say could find room within
the required limits. The article glows with devotion to
Stanley, to whom he felt deep personal indebtedness. "The
life of Stanley when it appears, if it is worthily written,
will be one of the richest records of the best life of our cen-
tury and one of the most attractive pictures of a human life
in any time." He reviewed Stanley's career so far as it
was known to the world. He delineates his characteristics
with loving appreciation, for, as in the case of Dr. Vinton,
he is describing the ideals of his own youth and manhood.
He speaks of Stanley's love of right, his desire to look facts
in the face and to know the exact and certain truth. He
remarks on his method of approaching all truth through his-
tory; of his dislike and inability for metaphysics and for
abstract thought. Stanley loved men for the sake of man ;
special arts and occupations in which he had no personal
interest were to him full of the great human drama, full of
divine meanings. The world was full of poetry to him.
There is need of other methods for the entire mastery of
truth, but there is great value and beauty in the historic
method which Stanley followed :
In the turmoil of a priori reasoning, in the hurly-burly of men's
speculations about what ought to be, let us welcome the enthusi-
astic student of what is and of what has been. The gospel in the
ages must always be part of the same revelation with the gospel
in the Bible and the gospel in the heart. "We cannot afford to
lose the softening and richening of opinions by the historic sense.
The ecclesiastical historian and the systematic theologian must go
hand in hand. "The word of the Lord which was given in the
Council of Nicsea," says Athanasius, "abideth forever," but the
personal History of the Council, which Dean Stanley has so won-
1 Cf. Essays and Addresses, pp. 340 ff.
jet. 45-46] DEATH OF STANLEY 313
derfully told, is part of the word of God which comes from that
memorahle assemblage to all the generations.
Stanley's last volume on "Christian Institutions," Phillips
Brooks especially admired for "its wonderful clearness and
power," and as "making Christian faith and worship stand
forth in calm and majestic simplicity." In an age of perplex-
ity and disbelief Stanley stood high among the faithful souls
who refuse to despair of the Church of Christ. As we read
his "Christian Institutions"
it is as if we heard the quiet word spoken which breaks the spell
of ecclesiasticism, and the imprisoned truth or principle wakes
and stands upon its feet and looks us in the eye. The flush of
life conies back into the hard face of dead ceremonies, and their
soul reveals itself. Bubbles of venerable superstition seem to
burst before our eyes; and we feel sure anew, with fresh delight
and hope, that not fantastical complexity, but the simplicity of
naturalness, is the real temple in which we are to look for truth.
He dwelt upon the work of Stanley in making the Bible
live to a great multitude of readers. He had not only in-
vested it with a fascinating interest, but he made it the Book
of Life. Thus his work was constructive. As an American
Mr. Brooks did not sympathize with the idea of an estab-
lished church ; but he refused to believe that there was any
low Erastianism in Stanley's interpretation of the church-
and-state theory. "It combined the view of Dr. Arnold with
Maurice's inspired and glorified doctrine of the kingdom of
heaven. His volume of ' Essays on Church and State ' is a
book which every religious student should read."
He recalled Stanley's personal charm, the charm also
of his preaching, a point on which he could speak with
authority :
Apart from the beautiful simplicity of his style and the rich-
ness of illustrative allusion, the charm of his sermons was very
apt to lie in a certain way which he had of treating the events of
the day as parts of the history of the world, and making his
hearers feel that they and what they were doing belonged as truly
to the history of their race, and shared as truly in the care and
government of God, as David and his wars, or Socrates and his
3H PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
teachings. As his lectures made all times live with the familiar-
ity of our own day, so his sermons made our own day, with its
petty interests, grow sacred and inspired by its identification with
the great principles of all the ages.
Of Dean Stanley's visit to America, and his first sermon
in the New World, at Trinity Church, he says :
He had been but a few days in America. It was the first
time that he had looked an American congregation in the face.
The church was crowded with men and women, of whom he only
knew that to him they represented the New World. He was for
the moment the representative of English Christianity. And as
he spoke the solemn words, it was not a clergyman dismissing a
congregation: it was the Old World blessing the New; it was
England blessing America.
The article brought to Mr. Brooks gratifying letters from
relatives and friends of Stanley. Dean Plumptre writes:
"It is, I think, the truest and fullest presentation of his char-
acter that has yet appeared." Lady Frances Baillie thanks
him for giving "such a living picture to the people of your
country and to us all. . . . How she would have thanked
you!"
After Stanley's death, the English friendships grew dearer
and more intimate, with Lady Frances Baillie, Sir George
Grove, who had accompanied Stanley to this country, and
with Archdeacon Farrar, through whom he kept his connec-
tion with the sacred Abbey unbroken, always preaching within
its precincts at St. Margaret's whenever he visited Eng-
land. Another friendship in England was formed at this
time with Dr. Thorold, Lord Bishop of Eochester, after-
ward translated to the See of Winchester. On failing to find
Mr. Brooks at home when he called upon him in this country,
Bishop Thorold had written :
You are so well known to me by your sermons and have so
blessed me by them, I wanted to thank you face to face. They
are my constant companions. Some of them, the "Consola-
tions of God" and the "Soul's Eefuge in God," I almost know
by heart. This morning I read the one on "Humility." As life
mt. 45-46] CHURCH CONGRESS 315
goes on I am always trying to grow new blood in the shape of
new friends, and I had dreamed such a dream of a cup of tea with
you to-night, to which I had meant to invite myself; and we
should have soon found out that we had much in common. . . .
But I write chiefly to say, when you next come to England you
must be my guest. I am very near London, Selsdon Park, Croy-
don ; and I shall rely on your proposing yourself.
Part of the summer was spent in New Hampshire, where
he recalled old associations connected with the familiar tour
of the White Mountains. He speaks of the visit as "plea-
sant and pathetic. We have been watching the telegraph
just as we used to do in the old war times, and the last thing
we do before going to bed is to go down to the village and
see what the President's pulse and temperature are. After
a short stay at Mount Desert he returned to Boston.
The effect of the call to Harvard was to bring Mr. Brooks
into closer relationship with the University. A temporary
arrangement had been made by which he was appointed one
of several chaplains, who were to take their turn in preach-
ing at Appleton Chapel and in conducting morning prayers.
Had he accepted the call to be the sole chaplain, he could not
have felt more keenly the responsibility for the spiritual wel-
fare of the students. In his devotion to the students he did
not begrudge the claims upon his time. But the tax was
none the less severe. "I am chaplain this week at Cam-
bridge," he writes to Rev. Arthur Brooks (November 6,
1881), "and go there every morning for prayers. It is very
pleasant, but it takes lots of time. I have to leave here at
eight o'clock and do not get back till ten."
At the seventh Church Congress, which was held at Provi-
dence, in October, Mr. Brooks was one of the appointed
speakers on the subject of "Liturgical Growth." It was a
subject full of interest at the time, for it had been brought
before the General Convention in 1880 by Dr. William R.
Huntington, then rector of All Saints' Church in Worcester,
and a committee had been appointed to consider the question
of the enrichment of the Prayer Book. For long and weary
316 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
years the leaders of the Evangelical school had been asking
for changes in the way of omissions, and also for greater flexi-
bility in the use of the various services. These demands had
been refused. There had grown up in the minds of many
the feeling that the Prayer Book was too sacred to admit of
alteration or change. Dr. Huntington's motion, however,
had passed the convention and the subject was before the
Church. It was distinctly understood that the purpose in
view was not to alter the Prayer Book in the interest of
any school of opinion, nor to make changes for the sake of
change, or in order to adapt the Church to any changed con-
dition of the time ; but to enrich the worship by additions
from the great treasury of devotions. There were some
things which all alike would have been glad to see incorpo-
rated in the Book of Common Prayer. Whether this could
be done without also making doctrinal changes, or without
invading the Communion Office, was the question which agi-
tated many.
To the Church Congress at Providence Mr. Brooks went
with a determination to speak his mind on the subject of chan-
ging the Prayer Book. Others were suggesting what changes
were desirable, and he, too, had changes to recommend. What
he chiefly wanted was the formal recognition in the Prayer
Book of the liberty of extemporaneous prayer. In his paper
on "Liturgical Growth" 1 he pleaded for this permission on
the ground that in a comprehensive church such as the Epis-
copal Church claimed to be, this element of power and flexi-
bility should be included. It was not enough that a clergy-
man was already at liberty to make the extemporaneous
prayer at the close of his sermon, a liberty of which he
freely availed himself. So long as the rubrics did not author-
ize it, he felt bound to refrain from indulging his prefer-
ence, for he was scrupulous in adherence to the prescribed
form and order. Yet it may be told here for there are
many who will remember it how in saying the beauti-
ful prayer which was a great favorite with him, "O God,
Holy Ghost, Sanctifier of the Faithful," he always included
1 Cf. Essays and Addresses, p. 96.
at. 45-46] LITURGICAL GROWTH 317
himself with the congregation, and changed "them " to "us:"
"Visit s, we pray Thee, with Thy love and favor." He
also changed the abstract expression "the truth" to "Thy
truth: " "Graft in our hearts the love of Thy truth." Slight
changes, but bearing witness to his passion for the personal
relation of truth and his avoidance of the abstraction.
Whether he were conscious of these innovations may be
doubted. In some nervous impressible moment, on infor-
mal occasions, when he was quite at liberty to make such
changes, they may have been stamped upon his memory, and
grown unconsciously into a habit.
The paper on "Liturgical Growth" shows that he keenly
felt the restriction which made it impossible to pray with
an open heart at critical moments, when the freedom of the
soul should be granted. Thus he was indignant, and also
amused, that when the city of Chicago was in flames the
General Convention, then in session, showed its sympathy
and asked for the Divine aid by reciting the Litany, while
the name of the city and the awful occasion were passed
over in silence. Even the Roman Church possessed flexi-
bility in striking contrast with this hard conservatism and
immobility. To this defect in the Church he called atten-
tion in vigorous speech, denouncing the conservative habit as
showing lack of faith in the principles of liturgical worship.
Upon one other topic he volunteered to speak at this same
Church Congress, a thing unusual with him, for when peo-
ple were met to talk it was his custom to he silent. The Re-
vised Version of the New Testament was one of the subjects
for discussion. He listened to the objections to it by the
various speakers, its sacrifice of rhythm in style and of
familiar expressions which had become dear. He listened
till he could bear it no longer, and rose in his majestic pre-
sence to make his way to the platform.
The thing that is really upon trial, he said, is not the Revised
Version but the Church. If a man is going to translate a book
for me, the one thing I demand is scrupulousness, the most
absolute fidelity to details, the absolute binding of themselves to
the simple question how they could most completely represent the
3 i 8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
Greek in English, letting the question of literary merit take care
of itself. That is the one great evidence of faithfulness to their
charge which we had a right to ask of those men who undertook
this responsible work, which work so far Christendom has stamped
with its approval as to its accuracy. If a man came to me to-
morrow, and wanted to know what Christianity was, to understand
the words of Christ, I should be absolutely bound to give him the
New Version and not the old one.
The great body of new Christians are reading the new book.
God grant that our Church may not condemn us to read the old
and faulty book in our churches, to the exclusion of the new and
corrected one, and so lag behind, as we have done again and
again, and only with a tardy run by and by come up abreast of
the great dominant sentiment and the prevailing convictions of
our fellow Christians.
This instance of his volunteering to speak without special
preparation is not a characteristic one. Mr. Brooks was
a man that usually weighed his thoughts and his words in
long meditation beforehand. He was accustomed to qualify
his utterance by considering the other side. He was quite
alive to the truth which the late Master of Balliol had ex-
pressed in such perfect form, that there might be more
inspiration in the received version than in the original
Greek. Nor was Mr. Brooks aware of the importance which
others attached to his words, how he spoke now to the coun-
try at large, and not merely to his own religious fold. The
consequence of these speeches at the Church Congress, espe-
cially of his remarks on the subject of Liturgical Growth,
was an editorial criticism in "The Churchman " which sharply
resented his strictures upon the ecclesiastical conservatism,
not mentioning him by name, but referring to him as "a bril-
liant and popular preacher " who had recently been making
some rash remarks. The use of the Litany, when Chicago
was burning, was defended as the most appropriate thing to
have done. How Mr. Brooks regarded the criticism is shown
in a letter to his brother :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, December 6, 1881.
Dear Arthur, I thank you very much indeed for your kind
sympathy. The brutal attacks of " The Churchman " have kept
jet. 45-46] SERMONS 319
me awake o' nights and I have thought several times of either
writing a reply or else committing suicide hut I haven't yet
done either. The only consolation 1 have is that " The Church-
man " seems to enjoy it, and that I have no douht congrat-
ulates himself that the Church is still sound. One serious injury
that the articles do me is that I don't feel quite as much at lib-
erty to ahuse " The Churchman, " which has heen one of my chief
amusements. I am afraid now that people will think I am spite-
ful.
In the fall of 1881 Dr. Brooks published his second
volume of sermons, under the title "The Candle of the Lord,
and other Sermons." It met with the same reception accorded
to the first volume, reaching a sale of over twenty -one thou-
sand. The titles of the sermons are felicitously chosen,
and linger in the memory. Most of them had been written
in the seventies in the ordinary course of his preaching at
Trinity Church. Out of the twenty -one sermons which the
volume contains, the texts of nine are from the Old Testa-
ment, which is a large proportion. If this circumstance has
any significance, it lies in showing his gift of the poetic
imagination applied to the interpretation of life, the con-
tinuation of the spirit of his Philadelphia preaching. Phil-
lips Brooks indignantly repelled the insinuation, that the
Christian pulpit lingers too long among Jewish antiquities.
He found in the Old Testament perpetual inspiration, the
disclosure of the process by which God reveals his life to the
world. These texts of sermons in his second volume recalls
some of the most abiding impressions of his preaching:
"The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord;" "The
good will of him that dwelt in the bush;" "And he said,
Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak to thee; "
"I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh
my help;" "Curse ye Meroz, saith the Lord; curse ye bit-
terly the inhabitants thereof; because they came not to the
help of the Lord, to the help of the Lord against the
mighty;" "Who coverest thyself with light as with a gar-
ment;" "Behold he smote the rock that the water gushed out
and the streams overflowed. But can he give bread also?
Can he provide flesh for his people? "
3 20 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
As we read these words of Scripture the preacher stands
forth again in his strength with his insight into the deeper
meanings of life. The bush which burned and was not con-
sumed stands for the continuity of one's years; the joy of
self-sacrifice is typified in ancient ritual, as when the "song
of the Lord began with trumpets " at the moment of the
burnt offering; to lift up one's eyes to the hills is to see
all lower sources of comfort and consolation as having their
origin in the highest, which is God; the curse which was
upon Meroz is the curse upon human inactivity in any age
whenever the crises of life are upon men; the accumulation
of faith makes it possible to believe that God is as powerful
in the present as in the past, "He could overcome the world -
liness of the eighteenth century, He can overcome the mate-
rialism and fatalism of the nineteenth century; as in ancient
times He not only smote the rock that the waters gushed out,
but He also provided bread for his people."
It is hard to speak of some of these sermons without
speaking of all. But a few must be specially mentioned.
There is the sermon on the "Manliness of Christ," which
strangely touched the conscience of every one who heard it.
The keenness of psychological analysis is here, going beneath
the surface to the depth of the consciousness, as he probes it
for the reason why men have failed to see the strength of
Christ, who in his human personality was the manliest and
the mightiest of men. The defect, and the cause of the de-
fect, felt in the traditional portraits of Christ, is here made
apparent.
The sermon on the "Law of Liberty," delivered many
times, has in it a reminder of Chalmers and Bushnell, but
does not suffer by comparison. No one who heard it can
forget the closing passage, where he describes the judgment
day as simply taking off the restraints of education and of
social order, at last leaving each man free to seek his own
place.
The sermon on the "Mystery of Light" gives a contrast
between the two kinds of mystery, that of light and that of
darkness. It is no more possible to measure the depths of
iET. 45-46] SERMONS 321
one than of the other. The object is to show that current
popular objections to the doctrines of the Trinity are mis-
taken in considering it as a mystery of darkness, when in
reality it is the dazzling, bewildering mystery of light.
This second volume of sermons, like the first, bears witness
to that moment in the history of religious experience when,
according to the familiar comparison, trite indeed but always
most expressive, there was a storm on the ocean of life and
much wreckage of faith. Then Phillips Brooks had stood
forth as a commander to the people, pointing to the haven
and the way by which it was to be gained. Thus on Thanks-
giving Day, when his church overflowed with hearers who
anticipated the value of the message to be delivered, he took
for his text the words of the prophet Ezekiel : " Son of man,
stand upon thy feet, and I will speak to thee." His subject
was the need of self-respect as a condition for hearing the
voice of God in revelation.
There are many passages in the Bible which describe the ser-
vants of God as their Lord's messages came to them, falling upon
their faces to the earth, and in that attitude listening to what
God had. to say. . . . There is a great truth set forth in all
these pictures. It is that only to human humility can God speak
intelligently. . . . But in the passage which I have taken for
my text this morning, there is another picture with another truth.
"Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak to thee." Not
on his face but on his feet ; not in the attitude of humiliation but
in the attitude of self-respect ; not stripped of all strength, and
lying like a dead man waiting for life to be given to him, but
strong in the intelligent consciousness of privilege and standing
alive, ready to cooperate with the living God who spoke to him ;
so the man is now to receive the word of God. . . . The best
understanding of God could come to man only when man was up-
right and self-reverent in his privilege as the child of God.
If this be a truth, is it not a great truth and one that needs
continually to be preached ? The other truth is often urged upon
us that if we do not listen humbly we shall listen in vain. But
this truth is not so often preached, nor, I think, so generally felt,
unless you honor your life, you cannot get God's best and full-
est wisdom ; unless you stand upon your feet, you will not hear
God speak to you.
VOL. 11.
322 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
With this introduction the preacher turned to pessimism,
whose prophets were vehemently declaring that "human life
is a woe and a curse, that the will to live is the fiend which
persecutes humanity." Because unphilosophical men, who
have no theory of life, are practically accepting this teaching,
he proposes to show what the "will to live" must mean.
I am sure you know whereof I speak. In large circles of life,
and they are just those circles in which a great many of us live,
there is an habitual disparagement of human life, its joys and its
prospects. Man is on his face. It seems to me that he must hear
God's voice calling him to another attitude, or he is hopeless.
"Son of man, stand upon thy feet, and I will speak to thee."
The year 1881 as it came to a close brought the usual
commemoration days with their inevitable reflections. The
friends of Mr. Brooks continued to insist that his birthday
should be observed, though in the swift passage of time the
years were coming which made it no more a pleasure. He
was confused a little with the transition of life. A birthday
should be a day of rejoicing. But as he entered the forties
he began to sigh for the youth that was passing, and to
realize that something had been lost. He was now forty-five,
"When he was reminded of the increasing wealth that came
with maturity, the larger vision, the mature ripeness of the
powers, he declared there was in them no compensation for
that which was gone. There was a conflict going on in his
soul as he measured the significance of the changes in the life
of man, and out of this conflict were to be born some of the
most valuable truths which it was given him to reveal to the
world. Let the reader turn to his sermon on the "Manli-
ness of Christ" and he will find him brooding upon this
issue :
It would seem, then, as if this truth were very general, that in
every development there is a sense of loss as well as a sense of
gain. The flower opening into its full luxuriance has no longer
the folded beauty of the bud. The summer with its splendor has
lost the fascinating mystery of the springtime. The family of
grown-up men remembers almost with regret the crude dreams
which filled the old house with romance when the men were boys.
jet. 45-46] SERMONS 323
The reasonable faith to which the thinker has attained cannot
forget the glow of vague emotion with which faith began. . . .
Who is not aware of that strange sense of loss which haunts the
ripening man ? With all that he has come to, there is something
that he has left behind. In some moods the loss seems to out-
weigh the gain. He knows it is not really so, but yet the mis-
giving that freshness has been sacrificed to maturity, intenseness
to completeness, enthusiasm to wisdom, makes the pathos of the
life of every sensitive and growing man. 1 /
This is but one of the passages scattered through his ser-
mons where Phillips Brooks is telling the congregation be-
fore him what he would not speak of in the intimate inter-
course of friendship. It was when these moods were on him
that he took them to the pulpit, as to some Horeb or mount
of vision, to test them there. What he could not tell to his
people out of his own experience which would prove a source of
strength and elevation and joyous triumph could not be true.
Let the reader then turn to his sermon on the "Symmetry of
Life," preached on Advent Sunday, where he gives the cor-
rective of all depressing moods. His text was from the Book
of Revelation, in whose mystic imagery his soul delighted,
"The length and the breadth and the height of it are equal."
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, Christmas Eve, 1881.
Dear Johnny, How many Christmas Eves we have spent
together! Do you remember how we used to go up to St. Mark's
and then come back and wander through the toy shops and look
up children's presents, and then how you would go home and find
father nailing up Christmas wreaths ? Well, that 's all over, and
here I am all alone with the Christmas festival safely over and
the Christmas sermon done, and cheering myself up by looking at
the mighty pretty little vase you have sent me, and by thinking
how very kind you were to send it. I do thank you, and I do
think it just as pretty as possible. It came quite safe and has
taken its place among my treasures, and every club the fellows
will see that the study looks a great deal brighter than it used to
look, and will wonder what it was that did it. I do indeed
thank you for all your kind thoughts of me.
Give H my very best love, and for you, dear Johnny, you
know how truly I am your affectionate old brother,
Phillips.
1 Cf . Sermons, vol. ii. pp. 258, 259.
324 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
Watch Night had been kept as usual at Trinity Church,
and on returning to his house in the first hour of the New
Year he found a gift awaiting him from the members of the
Clericus Club, a bronze statue of John Baptist in the atti-
tude of preaching. In this letter he describes one of the
familiar meetings of the Club and speaks of the gift he had
received :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, January 5, 1882.
Dear Johnny/, A Happy New Year to you and Hatty and
Josephine and the Baby! I have been meaning to write you a
beautiful letter, but somehow the sermons have got all my time
and all my lovely thoughts. What a lot of them (the sermons)
there have been ! Thank you for sending me your Advent sermon,
which I enjoyed exceedingly. It was a delightful sermon, and I
envy the people who hear such sermons always. Pray send me
everything of yours that goes into the papers. The Club went off
first-rate. There were sixteen men here and Bradley's paper was
capital. Parks and Percy got a foul of one another in the dis-
cussion. Willie Newton turned up when we were halfway
through. Charles Richards stayed here all night, and altogether
we had a first-rate time, barring your absence which was very
bad. Did you know that the Club made me a splendid New
Year's present of a bronze John the Baptist, who stands upon my
centre table now? It came in just after the watch meeting on
Saturday night. We have called Kidner to succeed Killikelly and
he has accepted. Jim was up yesterday and Parks is going to
preach in Appleton Chapel next Sunday morning. You will come
down and spend a night or two soon, won't you? But send me
word beforehand or I 'm awfully likely to be away.
Good-by, Johnny.
Affectionately, P.
In this month of January Mr. Brooks undertook with
enthusiasm the task of soliciting subscriptions for a memorial
of Dean Stanley to be placed in the Chapter House of West-
minster Abbey. The subject had been first suggested at a
meeting held in the Chapter House on December 13, 1881,
to commemorate Stanley's birthday. At that meeting the
American minister, Mr. James Russell Lowell, had been pre-
sent, making one of those felicitous speeches which pleased
the hearts of Englishmen. It had then been suggested that
jet. 45-46] STANLEY MEMORIAL 3 2 S
the opportunity be given to friends of Stanley in America
to contribute to the memorial already determined upon in
England, the completion of the Chapter House, by
supplying one of the great windows, for which Stanley had
already furnished the designs. With reference to this point
Dr. Bradley, the successor of Stanley, wrote early in January
to Mr. Brooks and a few others, asking that the amount
required, X1000, should not come from three or four rich
persons, but from a large number. So quickly did the re-
sponse come in to Mr. Brooks's appeal that by the month of
March some three hundred persons from all parts of the
country had sent in subscriptions whose total amount exceeded
what was called for by several hundred dollars. In a letter
to Dean Bradley, in which was enclosed a bill of exchange for
X1064 9s. 10d., Mr. Brooks requested in the name of those
subscribers whom he had been able to consult, that the sur-
plus, if there were any, should be given to the Westminster
Hospital and Training School in which the Dean and Lady
Augusta were so deeply interested. To Lady Frances Baillie
he wrote :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, March 15, 1882.
Dear Lady Frances, I want you to see one of the small
tokens of the way in which our dear friend was honored in Amer-
ica. So I send you the list of names of the people who, without
urgency, have contributed most gladly and often most eagerly to
the window in the Chapter House. It has been most delightful
to see the feeling with which people have sent their small or large
sums. The subscriptions have ranged from one dollar to one hun-
dred, many of the givers not being able to afford more than the
single dollar.
You will know many of the names: Mr. Winthrop and Mr.
Adams among our oldest public men; Longfellow, Holmes, and
Whittier among the poets; Parkman and Bancroft among the
historians ; Emerson, the philosopher, who was most glad to make
his contribution; the Bishops of Massachusetts, New York,
Michigan, Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Nebraska; clergymen
of all sorts, Episcopalians, Unitarians, Baptists, Congregational-
ists ; men of business, college students, and professors, and then a
great many who have simply read the Dean's books and have per-
sonal gratitude for him. You will no doubt recognize more than
326 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
one who have enjoyed the delightful hospitality of the Deanery,
which nobody ever forgets.
I hope that you are well, and I know that the months must
bring you more and more of peace and thankfulness. I wish that
I could hope to meet you this summer, but, though I probably
shall go abroad, I do not think that I shall be in England.
Will you remember me most kindly to your children and to my
kind friends at Megginch Castle, and believe me, dear Lady Fran-
ces,
Always sincerely yours,
Phillips Brooks.
On January 13 Dr. John S. Stone died at the age of
eighty-six, almost the last of the great leaders of the Evan-
gelical school. To his death Phillips Brooks refers in the
following letter :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, January 28, 1882.
Dear Cooper, You know, I suppose, that dear Dr. Stone
has gone. Last Friday afternoon he took his dinner as usual and
very shortly after had a stroke of paralysis from which he almost
immediately became unconscious. He lingered through the night,
and the next forenoon at about eleven o'clock without any return
of consciousness he passed away. He has been pretty feeble lately
but very bright and happy. I saw him about two weeks ago, and
he was lying on the sofa in his study, as cheery and full of fun
as ever. He spent his days there, without pain, till the stroke
came, and I believe he died in the study where you and I saw him
a couple of years ago.
It was a beautiful old age and death. On Monday the funeral
service was held in the Chapel and his body was taken to Green-
wood.
What good old days those were which it brings back, when he
used to come down to Race Street and when he used to come and
sit in the chancel of Holy Trinity. Well! Well!
He was very fond of you and always talked of you when I saw
him. I wonder what he will be like when we see him again.
Ash Wednesday fell on the 22d of February. It had been
the custom of Mr. Brooks in the earlier years of his min-
istry to confine the Lent services to Wednesday and Friday
of each week. That was then the prevailing usage. But a
change had taken place; there was multiplication of ser-
jet. 45-46] LEAVE OF ABSENCE 327
vices till they were held every day of the week, and in Pas-
sion week each day was observed by two and even three ser-
vices. Mr. Brooks accommodated himself to the change, but
with some misgivings, lie humorously remarks in a letter
that he is wearing out the bricks between his residence and
"the meeting-house." He writes to Mr. Cooper accepting
an invitation to preach at the consecration of the Church of
the Holy Apostles in Philadelphia, and expressing his doubts
about Lent :
233 Clarendon Street, Boston, March 2, 1882.
Dear Cooper, Of course I '11 preach at the Holy Apostles
on the evening of the Second Sunday after Easter. That 's half
the fun of coming to Philadelphia. I am depending immensely on
my visit. When the services get a little thicker than usual I say
to myself, in six weeks I shall he in Cooper's study. . . . That
cheers me up and I go on with the services again. I do believe
you are right about Lent. "We have got the thing a great deal
too full and complicated. No one service amounts to much in the
way of exciting thought or feeling, and the whole long stretch
of services grows tame if not tiresome. Besides this there has
got to be a sort of rivalry between Parishes, as if the one which
had the most services were the most Godly flock and shepherd.
Men get each other's "Lent Cards " and compare them, to see who
is doing the most "work." There '11 be a great collapse some
day. Meanwhile we are keeping on with two or three services a
day and counting on the Second Sunday after Easter. "When that
comes we '11 talk things over and set the whole world right. . . .
After Easter Mr. Brooks showed signs of physical weari-
ness. He continued to say of himself that he was as well as
ever, but he knew and admitted that he needed a complete
change, and a long one. The subject was mentioned to the
wardens and vestry of Trinity Church. He had not yet
made up his mind definitely how long he should wish to be
absent from home, but intimated that he might possibly
conclude to ask for an entire year. The answer of the Pro-
prietors of Trinity Church was prompt and generous. These
were the resolutions they adopted, drawn up by the late
Mr. Eobert C. Winthrop, and presented by Colonel C. R.
Codman :
328 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1881-82
Resolved, That the Proprietors of Trinity Church, deeply
grateful for the invaluable services which have been rendered us
by Mr. Brooks, during the more than twelve years of his rector-
ship, and fearing that he may be in need of a longer and more
continuous rest from his devoted labors than he has even yet been
willing to allow himself, desire to express their sincere wish
that, in going abroad this Summer, he may not feel bound to
limit his vacation too narrowly, but may be at perfect liberty to
linger in other climates for the Autumn, Winter, and following
Summer, if he shall deem such a stay more likely to bring him
back to us with invigorated health and strength for the work
which we count upon so earnestly in future years.
Resolved, That the Wardens and Vestry be instructed to com-
municate the foregoing Resolution to Mr. Brooks, with full powers
to make any arrangements which may be agreeable to him, and to
assure him that much as we should regret even a temporary loss
of his services, we should still more regret to deprive him of the
rest and recreation which he needs, and which he has so richly
earned.
Boston, April 10, 1882.
Easter Monday.
Just before sailing for Europe Mr. Brooks wrote this
letter to Mr. Cooper :
June 20, 1882.
Dear Cooper, While I am waiting for the carriage which
is to take me to Europe my last letter shall be to you. I got
your good kind letter yesterday, and it was like the Benediction I
had been waiting for, the last blessing, which I had half hoped to
get on board 'the Servia at New York, but your dear old hand-
writing is the next thing to it.
What lots of good times we have had together! Race Street
and the mountains and the lakes and the Tyrol and Switzerland
and Paris and Boston and Spruce Street for twenty-two years.
And now it seems as if you ought to be going with me. The
journey does n't look lovely or attractive this morning, but of
course it will all brighten up by and by and there will be lots to
enjoy, but the best of it all will be getting home again. So keep
well and young and strong so that we may have still a lot of talks
together.
Thank you, dear Cooper, for your long friendship and unfailing
kindness. May God be good to you as you have been to me.
Well, well, a year from next September.
Good-bye, Good-bye. P. B.
CHAPTER XII
1882
PLANS FOR THE YEAR ABROAD. GERMANY. CORRESPOND-
ENCE. RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS. EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-
BOOK AND FROM JOURNAL OF TRAVEL
It seemed to Mr. Brooks a simple and natural thing to do
when he asked for a year's leave of absence from his parish.
It was the rule at Harvard to grant its professors this priv-
ilege once in seven years. And among the clergy it was
not uncommon, especially in large city parishes where the
strain of labor was severe, to seek this mode of relief. But
when it was known that Phillips Brooks was to be absent for
a year, that his voice was to be silenced during all that time,
people wondered, and were amazed, and even alarmed. They
were asking of him and of one another why he should go
away. It seemed inexplicable that he should stop preach-
ing when the world was waiting to listen. How great the
work was which he had been doing he did not realize, nor was
there any one then who could tell him. In reality he had
been leading people in all the land through one of the dark-
est, strangest crises in religious history. The popular grati-
tude and devotion to him seemed overwhelming in its length
and breadth and depth, but it must have been only in pro-
portion to some service of immeasurable value he had ren-
dered. That at such a moment he should withdraw himself
seemed unreasonable. There were fears that something was
wrong. Vague rumors were in the air. An interruption
like this of his unprecedented work seemed to portend dis-
aster. In the forecast of the future, it was feared he might
not return. When he was asked, as he often was, why he
was going, he answered to some that he wanted a change;
330 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
or to others that he had been giving out for a long time
and he would like to stop for a moment in order to take
in. But his answers seemed unsatisfactory. No one felt
that it was necessary for him of all men to be in such need.
He had made them realize the meaning of the words that it
was more blessed to give than to receive. But there was
another side of the truth, that one must first have received in
order to give; and one must continue to receive if one would
have the reward of giving. .
A few words of comment upon the situation are required.
They must take the nature of surmise, for he was silent while
all were talking, as he had also kept rigid silence during the
public discussion of his call to Harvard, and at every other
turning point in his life. It must then be said that his health
was in danger from the severe and prolonged strain of his
twelve years' ministry in Boston. There were no impending
signs of physical collapse, but the danger was real. He had
no misgivings about his health, and when the subject was
alluded to would simply remark that he wanted a change.
But he had been undergoing a strain during these years, to
which flesh and blood were not equal, no matter how perfect
their organization in the human body. People marvelled
sometimes at his powers of endurance, but for the most part
were content to accept the fact and to rejoice in it, as in the
regularity of natural phenomena.
When we stop to think of what he had gone through, we
recall the unbroken line of wonderful sermons, each one bet-
ter, so it seemed, than the last. It was no slight task for
him to be always equal to himself. Those who thought that
it was as easy and natural for him to preach great sermons
as it was for the sun to shine are now seen to have been
mistaken. Others could not have done it at all, but neither
could he accomplish it without the life going out of him. To
this must be added that he usually preached three times every
Sunday, that he preached once a week beside in the Wednes-
day evening lecture, and in addition to this very often on
other days in the week as the call came to him. There were
also the occasional addresses of which it is useless to attempt
jet. 46] PLANS FOR YEAR ABROAD 33 i
the record. But they were numerous, for he was wanted in
every direction, and where he was wanted he went. He was
accustomed to go abroad for his vacation ; he had gone six
times in these twelve years, while the other six summers he
stood in his place in Boston, preaching to the strangers that
were passing through the city, or to the toilers who stayed
at home because they were unable to leave. He carried the
responsibility of a large parish, involving innumerable calls
on his time and strength. This was the inevitable strain
under any or ordinary circumstances. But it must be re-
membered that those years of the seventies were also no ordi-
nary years. He was watching the trend of thought and dis-
covery, as it necessitated changes in his own attitude to meet
the spiritual need of the hour. Those who lived through the
seventies realize, now that they have passed away, the trial
and strain to faith and to life which they brought. Mate-
rialism, fatalism, pessimism, agnosticism, were words which
describe the moment. To lift the world above them into the
light of faith was the task which had been assigned him.
To this end he must cultivate the larger faith in himself.
He lived through the strain, but the virtue which went out
of him was a drain upon the vital powers. For multitudes
of people he had been living vicariously ; they were content
so long as he believed.
Then again, he had suffered, and it cost him to suffer, from
the loss in such rapid succession of his father and his mother,
and at last of Dr. Vinton. The world was changing to him.
There was inward agony as he adjusted himself to the new stage
of his life when he was to be henceforth without a home.
The situation was the harder because he was not married,
and would be forced to realize what loneliness meant. Had
he been married he would not have felt as keenly as he did
the changes of this mortal life. They would indeed have
gone over him, but with compensations which he never knew.
His large heart, with its vast capacity for affection, was hun-
gering for human love. He should have married, and yet
perhaps he knew that if he had now attempted to give himself
to one, the spirit of the world which held him for its own
332 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
would have resented the attempt and made it impossible.
He realized that he was losing the richness and the con-
solation and the gift which God so freely bestows on others,
but did not vouchsafe to him. But he pondered the more
deeply on what it was to lose these gifts divine, which con-
stitute the joy of life, and out of his musing came comfort
and hope for others.
It is evident that the health of Phillips Brooks was now
in danger from the lack of exercise or some method of re-
laxation from the incessant strain of life. He felt the need
of it the more as the opportunities for it diminished. He
clung to the Clericus Club as offering freedom to an over-
burdened man; where there was no danger that he should be
misunderstood as he unbent himself in the amusement which
some of its members, himself among them, were wont to
furnish. He was a member of the Saturday Club. He took
an active part in the formation of the St. Botolph Club in
1880, whose object was social, artistic, and musical. For a
few years after its establishment he went occasionally to its
weekly gatherings.
But there was no diminution apparent in the seemingly
boundless vitality of Phillips Brooks. He will be recalled at
this time as carrying that manner of boisterous mirth which
has heretofore been mentioned to an almost abnormal extreme.
If he suffered at all, or were lonely, or ever knew what de-
pression meant, the world would not have guessed it. He
seemed to be the very soul of joy. His coming was always
and everywhere the signal for an outburst of wild hilarity.
His very presence on the street seemed to have power to
carry happiness and content to hearts that were heavy. "It
was a dull rainy day, when things looked dark and lowering,
but Phillips Brooks came down through Newspaper Row and
all was bright." This was one of the items in a Boston daily
paper.
His presence in a house was so exciting that it seemed to
penetrate every part of it, and the effect was long in subsid-
ing after he had left. When he took his journeys, the tumult
began from the moment he landed at the station. He walked
jet. 46] PLANS FOR YEAR ABROAD 333
up the street, the observed of all observers, though he did
not know it; people turned to look at him and stood and
watched while he stopped at the windows of shops and made
humorous comments on their display, or paused at posts or
signboards to read notices and to detect or fabricate some
absurdity or incongruity which provoked his laughter. When
he reached the house he threw family discipline to the winds.
He would call in a loud voice for the children, regardless of
considerations of convenience, and when they came their elders
passed into the background and the scene of revelry began.
He would incite, or seem to do so, the children to revolt and
disobedience, as though law and order in the household were
a sham j but he deceived no one, least of all the children. To
them it was some fairy scene, some picture from "Alice in
Wonderland," where all things were reversed or lost their
normal relations. To considerations of personal dignity of
bearing he would become oblivious, as when he would romp
on the floor or stand as Goliath for some small David of a
boy to use his sling. This was his amusement and recrea-
tion, so far as he had any. But at times there seemed to be
something almost desperate about it all, as though he were
striving hard to escape from his influence for a moment or to
throw off the burden he was carrying.
But the worst of the situation was that he had little time
for quiet reading or thinking. Only by the strictest economy
of his opportunities could he have managed to read as much
as he did. This diligent improvement of the casual hours,
coupled with his power of taking in so quickly the purport of
a book, still enabled him to do what to others seemed a large
amount of solid as well as of discursive reading. Thus he
placed books before him and read while he was shaving.
Twice, as we have now seen, he had endeavored to obtain
for himself a mode of life in which there would be leisure
for thought and study, in Philadelphia, where he wished
to accept the offered chair in the Divinity School, and again
in Boston, when he was called to Harvard. " The years," he
would say, "are not so many as they were." Time was fly-
ing and there was much that he wished to know. He admit-
334 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
ted there were great questions which he wished to think out
for himself. He may have fondly recalled that second year
in the Virginia Seminary, when the intellectual world in all
its splendor first opened to his view. We may surmise all
this and other things to fill in the picture. He seemed to
tell nothing when he answered those who asked him why he
was going, but in reality he told all there was to tell. Some
deep instinct impressed him with the necessity for a change
which should be as prolonged and as thorough as opportuni-
ties in this world would allow, and he would fain secure one
long year for study and reflection.
The plan for spending the year abroad included a sojourn
in Germany, India, and England, giving some three months to
each country; and it also provided for a short tour in Spain,
to glance at its monuments and churches. It was a plan for
study, but he proposed to study from life as well as from
books. He wanted to know for himself, by personal inquiry
and observation, how the world was thinking and living at a
moment so significant in its history. He found it hard at
first to realize that he had a long year before him.
And so the year of wandering has begun. It is not easy yet to
realize that it is more than a mere summer's journey, but every
now and then it comes over me that the gap is to be so great that
the future, if there is any, will certainly be something different
in some way from the past. I don't regret that, for pleasant as
all these past years have been, they don't look very satisfactory
as one reviews them ; and although I am inclined to put a higher
value on their results than anybody else would be likely to do,
they 'have not certainly accomplished much. I should like to
think that the years that remain, when I get home, would be
more useful. There is surely coming, and it has partly come, a
better Christian Day than any that we or our fathers for many
generations have seen. One would like to feel before he dies that
he had made some little bit of contribution to it.
He went attended by his friends Rev. W. N. McVickar
and Eev. James P. Franks ; Mr. Eichardson, the architect,
and Mr. John C. Ropes were also fellow passengers. The
appearance of three such men together as Brooks, McVickar,
and Richardson, all of them far above the average in their
&r. 46] PLANS FOR YEAR ABROAD 33S
stature and physical proportions, was the occasion of humor-
ous anecdotes, in which the humor ran beyond the actual fact.
Their stay in England was brief, and Mr. Brooks preached
but once, at St. Botolph's Church in old Boston, lie was
invited to speak at the English Church Congress and his name
was advertised, but owing to some delay in the mails, there
was misunderstanding which prevented his keeping the en-
gagement. In London he went to Stanley's grave and had
much talk about him with Lady Frances Baillie. He called
upon Burne-Jones, the artist, and William Morris, the poet.
The arrangement was here made with Mr. Richardson to visit
southern France and Spain. Architecture under these cir-
cumstances must be the main interest, but "art, life, and
scenery," he writes, "shall not be forgotten." The journey
was a delightful one, including Provence, with its wealth of
old Roman remains, Genoa, Leghorn, Pisa, Florence, Bo-
logna, Ravenna, and then Venice. "I think that I enjoyed,"
he writes, "the re-seeing of old places almost, if not quite,
as much as the discovery of new ones. The deepening and
filling out of old impressions is very delightful." At Venice
the delightful party began to break up, Richardson and his
friend Mr. Jaques, then a student of architecture, of whom
all became very fond, taking their way toward Spain. With
McVickar and Franks he went to Paris, and after a few
days together, he was left alone to follow out his plan of
study. On August 28, 1882, he writes :
After three pleasant days together in Paris, they have gone
this morning, and I am all alone. It has been a delightful sum-
mer, and now I feel as if my work began. A week from to-day
I hope to reach Berlin, where I shall stay for some time. I am
very anxious to study, and the prospect of unlimited time for
reading opens most attractively. I do not feel as if it were a
waste of time, or mere self-indulgence, for all my thought about
the work which I have done for the last twenty years, while it is
very pleasant to remember, makes it seem very superficial and
incomplete. I do not know that I can make what remains any
better, but I am very glad indeed of the opportunity to try.
How he felt on being left alone is evident from this letter
to McVickar :
33 6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
August 29, 1882.
I tell you it was a lonely fellow that walked back in the rain
all the way from the Gare du Nord to the Hotel de 1' Empire
last Monday morning. It seemed all wrong that I hadn't got
in with you. I had a sort of feeling of having missed the
train. I felt like a fool, and I have no doubt I acted like a fool,
and so I called myself a fool. It is better now, and I am looking
forward to a very pleasant winter. But did n't we have a good
time? I like to sit and think about it all, and one by one the
queer, delightful scenes come up, and I find myself laughing all
alone at the Brionde kitchen or the St. Nectaire Church, or the
night on board the Indian, and then to think that it 's all over
and poor little Jimmie is already crawling sideways down the
channel in the Malta. I never shall cease to thank you for com-
ing.
Before leaving Paris he wrote this letter to Mr. Robert
Treat Paine :
Paris, August 29, 1882.
My dear Bob, I have come to a sort of a way station on
this long journey and it seems as if it were time for me to report
myself. Besides I want to have a talk with you, and if you were
in Mt. Vernon Place and I in Clarendon Street, I should come up
and spend the evening with you. This is a very poor substitute
for that, but it is all I can get.
To talk about myself, then : the summer journey is over, and
you have no idea how good it has been. "We went down almost
to the gates of Rome, and saw the beauty of northern Italy at its
most beautiful. My eyes swim with light and color now. We
went also into southern France and saw a great deal of soberer
beauty, quiet old towns, and queer, quaint churches, and kind,
dirty people. Richardson was with us till we reached Milan, and
then went off into Spain, where he is now. You should have seen
the man in Venice! The wonder is that any gondola could hold
such enthusiasm and energy, or that he ever, having once got there,
came away. Fortunately he has been very remarkably well all
summer, and has been most capital company. McVickar and
Franks are both old friends, of whom I am very fond, and they
made the summer even more delightful, and Mr. Richardson's
small friend Jaques was always pleasant and kept the money
accounts. We sent you a counterfeit presentment of the party.
Did you get it ? You will find Richardson glowing with splendid
projects for Trinity. A front Porch, a Chapter House, and the
great Piers to be covered from top to bottom with mosaics. You
5
u
*t. 46] GERMANY 337
will listen with interest, and dream as I do of how more and more
beautiful the dear old Church may be made from generation to
generation.
Now I am going to Germany, and for a good while to come I
mean to be very quiet in or about Berlin, certainly somewhere in
Germany. I still mean to start as near the 1st of December as
possible for India. . . .
Well, my dear fellow, I think of you all constantly. What a
good time we have had together for the last thirteen years. For
myself, I am almost scared when I think how happy my life has
been. And now, when it seems as if a new period of it were
beginning, I have no wish except to go forward and trust the same
good God. Your life, too, has been very bright, I know, and in
the heart of your deepest sorrows there must lie some of your
brightest hopes.
My best love to your wife and children.
Your and their friend, P. B.
To the Rev. Percy Browne he commended the interests of
the Clericus Club while he is away :
You won't let the Club flag this winter, will you? It seems
to me that we all owe so much to it; and while we have grown
used to it and don't think so much about it as we used to, it has
never been better than in these last years. . . . You don't know-
how pleasant the old life looks from this distance, when one un-
derstands that he is to get nothing of it for a year. What good
times we have had ! and how few the dull and disagreeable spots
have been ! May the winter be as bright as possible, and yet I
hope you may find room to miss me a bit.
One other pleasant incident remained, however, before the
real work should begin. At Cologne he met his brother
Arthur travelling with his wife ; and of this he writes :
Hanover, September 4, 1882.
The great event of the last week was the meeting of the waters.
Two Brooks boys, Arthur and I, came together in the ancient
city of Cologne. It was Thursday evening when it happened;
Arthur had started that morning from Mayence and come down
the Rhine, the way you know, and I had started from Paris,
at an awful hour, and come all the way through by rail, and we met
in the hall of the Hotel d'Hollande at about eight o'clock p. M.
We had a long talk that evening, and the next morning we went
VOL. 11
338 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
through the sights of Cologne once more. Then we took rail to
Aix la Chapelle, and I saw that again in this new company. I
had been there once before this year with James and McVickar.
Then we went to Maestricht, where we spent the night, and saw
a queer cave. Then we came to Brussels, with various expe-
riences on the way, and once more I found myself in that very
familiar town. There we spent a very quiet, pleasant Sunday,
went to church, and talked to each other a great deal. Late last
night we bade each other a long, long farewell. This morning
I was called at half past four, and have come to-day (passing
through Cologne again) as far as here. . . .
I have started my journey three or four times already. Now
to-day it really has begun. I have said good-by to my last rela-
tive, and there is nobody else whom I have any engagement to
meet until I land in New York a year hence. I am quite alone.
To-morrow I am going to Hildesheim and Magdeburg, and the
next day to Berlin.
While Mr. Brooks was in Germany and India he wrote a
large number of letters, many of them long letters, in which
he spoke much of himself, giving expression to his thought
and feeling in a most unwonted degree. He seems to have
felt at last, in his separation from home and friends, the
absolute necessity of letter-writing for his own satisfaction.
Not since he was at the seminary in Alexandria do we get
such a complete picture of the man. In the twelve years of
his life in Boston, his letters had been comparatively few,
short, and conventional, so that only through what was said
of him by others, or by what personal allusion might be read
in his sermons and other published writings, do we get any-
strong light upon his character. Some of these letters,
which he now writes, but mostly those of a lighter character,
have been included in his "Letters of Travel." Even these,
however, are always characteristic in their quality. Dr. Oli-
ver Wendell Holmes said of these published letters that only
after reading them did he feel that he knew the man. In
them we see the great child -heart and the exquisite hnmor,
as he writes to little children, his nieces Agnes, Gertrude,
and Susan, who were to him as his own children, or the other
little nieces in the home at Springfield. While he was away
he carried all the interests of his life at home close to his
jet. 46] CORRESPONDENCE 339
heart, the Clericus Club, Trinity Church, the households
of his friends, and the varying phases of ecclesiastical life.
Many of his friends at home charged themselves with the
duty of writing to him often, so that he could easily follow
the familiar stream of the things he loved.
So voluminous is the correspondence and other material
during this year abroad that it would require a considerable
volume to contain it. Only a small part, therefore, can be
given here.
To the Rev. Reuben Kidner, one of the assistant ministers
at Trinity, in charge of St. Andrew's Church, he writes :
Berlin, September 9, 1882.
I am sorry to know that the ecclesiastical world of Boston is
being stirred up again by troubles at the . It seems some-
times as if the world outside the Church must get to think of it
solely as a field for the scramble of small ideas, and small men
for prominence and precedence. We know how small a part that
plays in church affairs. The people have worked conscien-
tiously and faithfully. Their ideas seem to me to be vastly fan-
tastic, and their whole conception of Christianity is one that I
cannot enter into at all. But I think it is a great pity when
anything happens which would make these people seem what they
are not, partisans ready to quarrel with each other for personal
preeminence.
But I am talking about all this at a distance and quite in the
dark. Very likely I do not understand the case at all. At any
rate there is nobody here in Berlin whom I can ask about it.
The people in the streets look as if they had never heard of the
, many of them as if they had never heard of Boston. They
are discussing whether the Jews have any right to live here, and
whether there ought to be such a thing as property, and whether
there is a God. There is plenty to interest one here, and having
settled myself quietly after a summer of hurried travelling, I shall
probably be here for some time.
Early in September Mr. Brooks had reached Berlin,
taking up his residence there for some two months, but in the
mean time visiting other university towns, Giessen, Leipsic,
and Heidelberg. For Heidelberg, where he spent two weeks,
he felt a strong fascination, as combining beauty of scenery
with history and with thought. It was unfortunate that the
34 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
universities did not open till the middle of October, so that
he missed in consequence conversations with many distin-
guished men to whom he carried letters. Thus he writes
from Berlin, September 17 :
I am going out to dine at Wansee (which seems to be a sort of
Berlin Brookline) with Baron von der Heydt, who is going to
have some of the Court preachers to meet me. A good many
other people have called on me, and talked about German things
and people ; so that I see all I want to see of folks, and the days
are only too short. Unfortunately, the university is closed, and
the professors are all off on vacations, so that I miss many men
whom I should like to see.
Here are some hints of how he passed his days, of the
effect upon him of being for a moment associated with men
whose whole time was occupied with speculative thought and
learned investigation.
I get up in the morning and breakfast at eight o'clock; then
I go to my room, which is very bright and pleasant, where I have
a lot of books and a good table, at which I am writing now.
Here I stay until eleven or twelve, reading and studying, mostly
German ; then I go out, see a sight or two, and make calls until
it is two o'clock. Then I go to Dr. Seidel, my teacher, and take
a lesson, reading German with him for two hours. Then it is
dinner time, for everybody in Berlin dines very early. They
have North Andover fashions here. Four o'clock is the table
d'hote time at our hotel, and that is rather late. After dinner
I get about two hours more of reading in my room, and when
it is dark I go out and call on somebody, or find some inter-
esting public place until bedtime. Is not that a quiet, regular
life?
This week I have been like a college student, going to hear
what the great men have to say about theology and other things.
I have German enough now to follow a lecture quite satisfactorily,
and you do not know how I enjoy it. Of course I have not taken
up any systematic course of attendance. My time is too short
for that. I only roam round and pick up what I can and fill it
out with reading from the books of the same men, a good many
of which I have. There are four thousand other students here in
Berlin, so that one can go and come in the great university quite
as he pleases, and be entirely unnoticed. ...
jet. 46] CORRESPONDENCE 341
It is very pleasant to see how quietly and simply these scholars
live, and what cordial, earnest folks they are. I have also seen
something of the ministers, but I do not think I like them so
much as the scholars. German religion seems to be eaten up with
controversy, and is hampered everywhere by its connection with
the state. There is much work being done here, and the thorough-
ness of their real scholars makes me feel awfully superficial and
ashamed.
To Rev. Arthur Brooks he writes more fully of what he is
doing :
October 12, 1882.
Dear Arthur, I have been as German as I could, and while
I have no revelations to make about the tendencies of German
theology, I have been quite successful in seeing what I wanted
most to see, and if we could sit down and talk about it all to-
gether I think I could be very interesting, but I shall not try to
put it in a letter. I will only say that every one who seems to
know best gives strong assurance that there is indeed a strong
awakening of religious thought in Germany, and while very much
calls itself Christian here which would puzzle the House of Bishops
and makes even the broadest of us open his eyes, yet still a candid
and respectful interest in Christianity and a decided disposition
towards a theistic explanation of the world and man have largely
gained, and are still gaining, among men who think about religious
things at all. In Berlin everybody says that Lotze is the truest
representative of the prevalent tendency in Metaphysics, and his
death so soon after he came there to teach is almost pathetically
lamented.
That he had been greatly impressed by reading Lotze is
evident from the following important letter :
Berlin, October 29, 1882.
Dear Arthur, I got a real good letter from you yester-
day, which told me all the things that I liked most to hear and
made me feel as if we were very near indeed together. And I
wanted to write off at once and tell you so and report myself to
you, but I am only at it now after your letter has been almost two
days with me. For this morning I went to preach at the Ameri-
can Chapel, and after service I met your friend Evart Wendell,
who is a very nice boy, and he came home to lunch with me ; and
then he wanted me to go home with him and see the photographs
that he had bought, and so the whole afternoon got used up, and
342 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
here it is Sunday Evening. Understand that Wendell sent his
hest love to you, which I hereby give. I am now back something
over a week here in Berlin, and my time here draws to a close.
Just think of its being two months since we parted in Brussels !
Of that time about half has been spent in Berlin and the rest in
other parts of Germany. On the whole I have been as successful
in carrying out my rather vague plans as I could anyway have
hoped. I have been only unlucky in being rather too early for
the universities, which did not begin their lectures till last Mon-
day; so that I have not had much of that sort of life, and the
vacation time also prevented a good many men whom I should
have liked to see. from being at home. On the other hand I have
found people everywhere most accessible, and although very few
of the theologians speak English they mostly understand it, and
the study I have had here makes their German quite intelligible.
Both in such lectures as I have heard here in the last week and in
the conversations which I have had with men in various places,
I have found no real difficulty. In Halle and Heidelberg and
Leipsic I have found interesting people and got pretty good ideas
of what theologians were at. A thoroughness of Exegesis which
is beautiful, and an inquiry into the Old Testament History which
makes it very living, and a rearrangement of dogmatic statements
in philosophical systems : these are their great works. The
books which I have read with considerable struggle are the new
"Life of Jesus" by Weiss, of Berlin; the "Life of Luther" by
Kostlin, whom I saw at Halle, which is the last great work on the
Reformation ; the " Christian Belief and Morals " of Pfleiderer
of Berlin; and, above all, the lectures of Hermann Lotze on the
" Philosophy of Religion " and on the " Foundations of Practical
Philosophy." Then I have dipped into Schleiermacher, of whom
I knew nothing before. But Lotze is the most interesting of men.
I wish you would get somebody to translate his "Grundziige der
Religionsphilosophie, " somebody who knows German well. It
is a little book, the mere notes of one of his students from his
lectures, which has been published this year in Leipsic. If I knew
enough German to be quite sure that I was n't making him say
just what he didn't mean to I would translate some of it myself,
for it is full of as rich sound meat as any book I ever read, and
with my poor German knowledge I know I have got at the gist of
it. The way that people speak of him here is very impressive.
I have heard one or two lectures from his successor Zeller, who
is also an interesting man. It is the j oiliest thing, this Univer-
sity. There it stands wide open and anybody can go in to any
lecture that he chooses. I have heard Dillman and Weiss and
jet. 46] CORRESPONDENCE 343
Pfleiderer, who are the hest of the theological people here except
Dorner, who is the Nestor of their faculty, but is now very ill and
off at Baden-Baden. The city preachers, of whom I have seen
several, seem to be very earnest but not very inspiring men. On
the whole I feel as if there were not in Germany just the type of
man whom we have in England and America, the really spiritual
rationalist or broad Churchman, the Maurice or the Washburn.
Their positive men are dogmatists and their rationalists are nega-
tive. Such men there must be somewhere, successors of
Schleiermacher on his best side, but nobody seems to be able to
point them out, and except in vague and casual approaches I have
failed to find them. Outside of theology I have made 6ome very
pleasant acquaintances. I have seen a good deal of Baron von
Bunsen and his family. He is the son of the Bunsen of many
books, the Chevalier, and is a very charming man, and his house is
always full of pleasant people. Lately I have seen something of
Hermann Grimm, the translator of Emerson, and the author of
Goethe's Life and of Michael Angelo's. Then there is a most
hospitable doctor (Abbot) who has been here for many years, and
whom I knew when I was here seventeen years ago, whom I have
found a kind friend and at whose house I have seen lots of nice
people. All this about my Berlin life, but I hoped you would
care to know what had come of my venture. Now I leave here
on Wednesday for Dresden, and then Prague and Vienna and so
to Venice, whence I am booked for the Poonah, which sails for
Bombay on the 1st of December.
Is your new church coming on to your satisfaction? How I
should like to be where I could hear all about its details and
know what all the knotty points are which you will have to settle.
Do get in a bit of La Farge glass somewhere. It is too splendid
a chance to be neglected now when you have such a wonderful
genius living at your doors who may die any day. The more I
see of what work in glass is being done abroad, the more remark-
able his work appears. Just think of Trinity Church, Boston,
being on fire the other day ! Do you know young Peters, the son
of your friend the Reverend Doctor in New York, who came to see
me the other day in Leipsic ? He seemed to be a fine fellow, an
enthusiastic scholar and a wise broad Churchman. Surely, there
ought to be some place for such a man in some one of our semi-
naries.
To Professor A. V. G. Allen he writes, with reference to
an article on the " Renaissance of Theology in the Nineteenth
Century:"
344 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
Vienna, November 13, 1882.
My dear Allen, I have been reading this evening your
article in the " Princeton Review, " and before I go to bed I want
to tell you how deeply I am delighted with it. Its great idea,
the distinction between the eatfra-mundane and the infra-mundane
conceptions of God's revelation, has happily grown familiar to
multitudes of us in their own thinking under the half-recognized
influence of the disposition of our time. Little by little we have
awaked to the knowledge that we had attained to such a richer
and worthier idea of our relationship to God. Not least among
the delights which it has brought has been the sense of how with
it belonged all the best, the most characteristic work of the
human mind in our time, from Emerson's essay on the Oversoul
to Darwin's teaching of the constant presence of live, creative
force in nature. Of course this truth, as opposed to the Napo-
leonic conception of Deity, verges toward Pantheism. All the
Orthodox ministers of Germany say that Schleiermacher was a
Pantheist, as some Englishmen say of Coleridge. But it has
been a great joy to find how in such a more intimate knowledge
of God a nobler and realler sense of His Personality has ever
come.
All this has been familiar to many of us. But to trace the
history of the Christian thought upon the subject, and to show
that in the knowledge of God that is true which the Alt-Katho-
liks have claimed so barrenly to be true of Christian institutions,
that the youngest is the oldest, and the last the first, this you
have done beautifully in your essay. Henceforth I am an old
Greek. I wish that you would develop that part of your Essay,
the presence of this better theology before Augustine, into a
book. It would be a flood of light to many souls.
But I only wanted to thank you, and to say how glad I am with
all my heart, away off here, that you are teaching our youngsters
in Cambridge. God bless your work.
I hope that you are all well and happy. You ought to be.
In two weeks now I am off for India, but I shall think of you
from the Ends of the Earth.
With best remembrances to your wife and boys.
Ever your friend,
Phillips Brooks.
It is interesting and important to note that Phillips Brooks
was impressed by Lotze's philosophy. We have seen that in
his youth it was the philosophy of Lord Bacon which influ-
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 345
enced him. For the abstractions of speculative thought he
felt no attraction. There is no evidence that he ever made
any effort to understand the purpose of Hegel, though one
sometimes encounters in his sermons thoughts which are akin
to those of the Hegelian philosophy. But they may have an
independent origin. There are also traces in his sermons of
the influence of Plato, as in the sermon on the text, "See
that thou make all things according to the pattern showed to
thee in the mount " (Hebrews viii. 5). 1 On this sermon,
which was preached in England, at old Boston and at the
Chapel Royal, Savoy, an English clergyman remarked to him
that it was not what was wanted in England. The influence
of Lotze was to raise the question whether the intellectual
formula at any moment was adequate for the full and final
expression of the content of human soul, of human faith and
belief. That one did not come to the truth solely by the in-
tellectual process had always been one of the ruling ideas of
Phillips Brooks. But in the first stages of his development,
he has assigned the lead to the reason. In his lectures at
Yale College on the "Teaching of Religion" he had assumed
that truth came first to the reason, then from the reason to
the feelings, and finally from the feelings to the will. In
some degree that had been the law of his own growth. His
temperament was predominantly intellectual, and in the
early years of his ministry this tendency was prominent in
his preaching. But as he passed through the struggle of the
seventies, he found more and more that men must believe
through the cognitive power of the feeling, those deeper
instincts of the human constitution which do not originate so
much in the mind as in the heart, or in the experience of
life. With this growing tendency in himself, he found Lotze
in harmony, as also in another direction which he was fore-
casting, that the reason had been given a predominance in
modern philosophy which obscured or subordinated the mighty
function of the human will.
While Phillips Brooks was in Germany he seems to have
been profoundly moved by the intellectual environment. It
1 Cf. Sermons, vol. iii.
346 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
was a time with him of most intense activity, affecting the
whole man, as he was engaged in translating into terms of
life the thoughts with which his mind was teeming. He
appears as reviewing his experience, religious and intellec-
tual, in the light of a more satisfactory philosophy. He en-
ters in his journal a series of connected statements regard-
ing his religious beliefs, prefacing it with the words: "I
want to try to draw out in order and connection those per-
sonal convictions about religious truth which have slowly
and separately taken shape in my mind." The paper was not
exhaustive, and as these words quoted indicate, it was the
working of his individual experience which he was seeking
to trace. Upon this point something remains to be said in
another chapter. It is interesting also to note how his mind
assumes a devotional tone in dealing with theological pro-
blems. To this beautiful and impressive paper, the reader
will now turn :
1. GOD.
Man does not seem to reach the idea of God by any conscious
process. All conscious processes appear to be either the subse-
quent analysis of what has gone on already unconsciously, or else
the support which study and thought bring to a conviction which
already exists on other grounds ; very much as the filial impulse
or instinct finds itself supported by many considerations of human
nature and society, but was not made by any of them. 1
If we look into this first idea of God, which seems self-born, a
direct impulse of the heart of man, its origin, I think, will be
found to lie in a transference by man to the universe of that one
sole primal cause of which he has any knowledge, which is will.
This is a very simple transference and is made almost uncon-
sciously. Man finds only one stopping place in tracing back the
claim of cause and effect in his own activity. That stopping
place is in what seems to him to be truly an uncaused cause.
When, then, he pictures to himself the stopping place of the chain
of cause and effect in the greater world of active life, then, too,
he thinks that at the beginning must lie will.
This seems to be to man a supposition to be verified by experi-
1 Alle Beweise sind bios Rechtfertigungsgrrmde fiir unseren Glauben und
fur die bestimmte Art, in welcher wir dies hocbste Princip meinen fassen zu
miissen. Lotze, Grundzuge der Religionsphilosophie, 5.
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 347
ence. God is first to the world, and to some extent to every man
a Working Hypothesis. It is in the way in which this working
hypothesis seems to meet, and abundantly cover, all the events of
life and conditions of the world, that man finds himself justified
in accepting it as true.
Of course for every individual this process is not merely in
large part unconscious, hut it is also complicated with tradition.
Each man receives the result of the process as it has gone on in
the minds of men before him, and often it is by the greater or
less tendency to traditionalism (that is, to the acceptance of the
testimony of previous men) which is in different men's disposi-
tions that they are led to adhere to or react from the witness
which this process bears to the existence of God in their own
minds. 1
We must not understand will too narrowly. It includes the
whole creative force in which there is an element of affection and
desire, and so this testimony is not distinct from, but includes, the
impulse which man feels to believe in a God, because he craves to
be loved and to have some interested purpose outside of himself
governing his creation and his life.
2. REVELATION.
How does such an Idea of man arriving at the Idea of God by
the examination of himself affect the doctrine of a Revelation ?
In the first place, it is a Doctrine of Revelation. When man
has thus reached the Idea of God he adds almost of necessity the
notion that God meant that he should reach it. God's first revela-
tion of Himself must be in human nature itself. All other kinds
of revelation would be useless unless this lay behind them all.
There is here the first appearance of the truth that man is the
Child of God. Both the wish and the possibility of God to show
Himself to man in man's own nature are involved in the Idea of
Childship. To no being but a child could such a revelation from
the Father come.
The traditional element, of which I spoke, makes the access
to the knowledge of God seem all the more a revelation. God
seems to the man to have been using not merely this man's own
self, but the selves of other men and the great self of humanity,
to make Himself known to this one of his children.
But with this first revelation (which is often not called a Reve-
1 Im Gegentheil hat das religiose Gefiihl iramer die expansive Leibe, die zur
Mittheilung ihrer Seligkeit an andre Wesen drangt, als das Motiv der Schop-
fung angesehen. Lotze, 52.
348 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
lation, but is spoken of, by way of contrast, as a part of natural
religion, an unreal distinction) then the expectation of other
revelations immediately follows. Man cannot think of God ex-
isting and creating him without thinking also of God making some
effort to communicate with His creature.
The result is a searching curiosity to find God's communication,
which, whatever fantastic form it takes, is still valuable as testi-
fying to the fundamental conviction of man that there is a God
and that He will speak. It takes form in the belief in Visions,
Oracles, divinely written Bibles, and more vaguely in an undefined
idea that at the origin of human life God must have said, in some
way, things to man of which man has preserved the tradition.
The degree of truth in each one of these is a separable question
from the fact of a truth being resident in them as a whole. In
this, most religious men, however they may hesitate about each
particular Vision or Bible, are always tending to believe.
Still in close association with what I said about man's finding
God's first witness in himself (i. e., in man), there is always a
half-consciousness that it must be in human life that the truest
and fullest and deepest revelation of God is given. No other
paper is fit to hold that awful writing. Hence all great religions,
however they may rely upon their sacred books, have also their
sacred man, their Prophet or Saint, in whom God is supremely
shown.
This comes to its completeness in Christianity.
3. CHKIST.
The Principle of Christianity is that God was in Christ. Not
a revelation by a Book, but by a Being. This the point to which
all disturbances of literal faith in the Book are tending, and so in
this there is no tendency to deny or to depreciate the true human-
ity of Jesus, but rather a necessity of exalting and emphasizing it.
The Possibility of such supreme manifestation of God in Jesus
must lie in the essential nearness of humanity to Divinity. Such
revelation in a person could not take place in any person which
did not thus naturally belong with God.
Hence it is not strange that there should be much in the lives
of the best men which seems to be identical with the life of Je-
sus. In them, too, there is the capacity to manifest God. In
them, too, God is endeavoring to manifest Himself. Here is the
true key to the inspiration of Thinkers, Poets, and Saints.
And this has been always and everywhere, so that Religion has
been in all times and places. What we call the heathen religions
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 349
are thus real utterances of God. After man has passed beyond
mere fear and the adoration of Power in the forms which seemed
to him to represent it (as, for instance, the heavenly bodies), wher-
ever he has tried to come into the genuine companionship and
communion of a Great Father, there has been a vision of the
same truth which became completely manifested in the Incarna-
tion. Therefore we ought to welcome and not disparage every
resemblance between heathen religions and our own, and find in
them the point of approach to heathen minds. Christ certainly
is to be thought of, not primarily as a revelation of God's will or
intended way, but as a revelation of God's character.
This does not do away with the separateness of Jesus, but only
shows the way in which His separate life becomes a possibility.
His seemingly contradictory name, the "only begotten Son of the
Father, " seems to contain this double idea of the uniqueness of
His life and at the same time its being the consummation of the
life of man. The testimony to its uniqueness is in His own words
as historically recorded (of which I will speak later when I come
to treat of the Bible) and in the solitary strength of His influence.
His miracles are to us not so much the proofs of the separate-
ness and superiority of His life (whatever they may have been to
his contemporaries), as they are the natural and altogether to-be-
expected utterances of it in its reaction upon the material world.
Supposing such a special presence of God in any human life, it
would seem altogether likely that that life would have a peculiar
relation to nature, perhaps a peculiar mode of entrance on the
mortal career and a peculiar mode of departure from it, as well
as peculiar power over it during the intervening years. Thus the
question of Christ's miracles becomes purely an open question of
historical evidence.
In this view the higher power over nature which belongs to
man as God's utterance in the world, compared with the lower
power over nature which the brutes possess, is also of the nature
of miracle. The recognition on our part of the means and pro-
cesses of the exercise of that power seems not to change the
nature of the case, and the miracles ascribed to other men than
Jesus (using the word "miracle " in its ordinary sense) become the
natural expression of God's superior life in them and are also
pure questions of history. There is no antecedent presumption
against their truth. The supernatural is only the manifestation
of a higher nature and so is natural.
Hence, also, no man who believes in them can reasonably deny
the possibility of present miracles.
I cannot but think also that the whole present tendency of
350 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
physical science, which, with its theories of evolution, dwells upon
the presence in the world, of nature of a continually active forma-
tive force, is in the line of Christianity. Christ not merely taught
that the divine Power was always at work in the world. He was
Himself that present active divine power, and so, in some sense,
not merely made miracles seem occasionally possible, but made all
events seem miraculous, which is not the abolition of the idea of
the miraculous any more than the flooding of the world with sun-
shine is an extinction of the sun.
4. PRAYER.
The revelation in Christ of the intrinsic relationship of man to
God furnishes the true ground for the Idea of prayer, the presence
of prayer outside of Christian influence being, as in the other
points mentioned before, an indication that the essential truth of
Christianity is everywhere present in the world. Prayer, as
Christ, not merely by His practice and precept, but by His nature,
makes it known to us is the entire expression of loving and depend-
ent sonship, the complete resting of the life of man upon the
life of God, of the child upon the Father. While Petition will
be certainly included in the utterance of this, it will not be
limited to petition. Confidence, love, sympathy, thankfulness,
all will be part of Prayer. And when Petition comes it never
will be absolute, but always conditioned on the higher knowledge
and complete love of the Father to whom the Prayer is offered.
See the Lord's Prayer, "Thy will be done," and the Prayer in
Gethsemane, which is the pattern of all petitions.
In this view the so-called "difficulties of prayer " by no means
disappear, but are seen to be identical with the difficulties of
moral life in general. They are not involved in any relation of
a subordinate to a superior will, one working within the other.
They do not make prayer impossible or unmeaning any more than
the difficulties of free-willed life make choice and action impos-
sibilities or fictions.
The evidence of the reality of Prayer and of its efficacy must
lie not in our recognition of its specific answer, but in our assur-
ance of the nature of the Being to whom it is offered.
5. ATONEMENT.
Of such a revelation of God in a human life what should we
say beforehand would be the results? First, Suffering to the
Humanity in which the Revelation is made ; and second, Recon-
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 351
ciliation or assertion and establishment of the essential oneness
between God and man. The first of these is accidental, belonging
to the special circumstance of human Bin in the midst of which
the Revelation must be made. In a pure, though imperfect hu-
manity the Revelation by Incarnation might be painless. The
second result is essential, and must come under whatever circum-
stances God thus showed Himself to man.
In other words Atonement by suffering is the Result of the
Incarnation ; Atonement being the necessary and Suffering the
incidental element of that result.
But Sacrifice is an essential element, for Sacrifice truly signifies
here the consecration of human nature to its highest use and
utterance, and does not necessarily involve the thought of pain.
It is not the destruction but the fulfilment of human life.
Inasmuch as the human life thus consecrated and fulfilled is the
same in us as in Jesus, and inasmuch as His consecration and ful-
filment of it makes morally possible for us the same consecration
and fulfilment of it which He achieved, therefore His Atonement
and His sacrifice, and incidentally His suffering, become vicarious.
It is not that they make unnecessary, but that they make pos-
sible and successful in us the same processes which were perfect
in Him.
The Vicariousness of Jesus is of the same sort with and has its
distant repetitions and illustrations in the Sacrifices by which the
men in whom God is most revealed open for other men the way to
God and the divine life.
6. THE BIBLE.
If the true revelation of God is in Christ, the Bible is not pro-
perly a Revelation, but the History of a Revelation. This is not
only a Fact but a necessity, for a Person cannot be revealed in a
Book, but must find revelation, if at all, in a Person.
The centre and core of the Bible must therefore be the Gospels
as the Story of Jesus. There is no necessity of supposing them
to be other than the natural records of the events of the life of
Jesus which they appear upon their face to be. The critical dis-
cussion of them has in the larger part confirmed their genuineness
and authenticity. The Fourth Gospel has sufficient claims to be
accepted as the work of John ; but even if that were doubtful there
would be abundant authority in it as issuing very early from the
Church's consciousness and tradition and holding the Church's
loyalty of faith.
The course of our thought with reference to the Gospels is this :
2S^ PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
(1) They set before us the character of Jesus in such way as
demands our supreme honor for His knowledge and His truthful-
ness. (2) Then upon His own word we accept His higher claims ;
there being, as I have already said in speaking of Him, no ante-
cedent impossibility or even contrary presumption.
The Epistles have their natural value as the commentary of
those most likely to know the mind of Christ, or what He was
and did and said.
The Old Testament gets its value from the New. It is the
story of the gradual shaping of the world for Christ. For the
purpose of giving this story there is brought together the whole
literature of the very peculiar nation in whose midst He came.
That literature consists of History, Poetry, Biography, Essay,
and Discourse. It was formed under the same laws under which
all literature is formed, only made peculiar by the facts that (1)
the Jews were under special divine training for a peculiar pur-
pose, and that knowing this fact themselves they were (2) very
careful of their national Records, and (3) very anxious to find
signs of the divine interposition in their affairs.
There is in these facts nothing to prevent the occurrence in the
Bible of mistakes or misconceptions; on the contrary, there is
strong reason to believe that certain great tendencies (e. g., love
of the miraculous) will distort special facts, while the great spirit-
ual current of the story will be preserved more faithfully than
that of any other ancient history.
Inspiration is primarily in the events with which the Bible
deals; secondarily in the nature of the Bible writers; only
through these in their literal words. It was a noble story told
by noble men. So comes the nobleness of the narrative. The
Bible claims nothing else for itself. We must not give it quali-
ties which simply seem to us necessary. It is the word of God,
speaking not through passive trumpets, but through living History
and acting characters.
7. MOKAL LIFE.
Taking the Bible thus, not as a series of oracles but as the
utterance to the world of the Revelation of God in Christ, its
treatment of man's moral condition and hope is clear.
Its great characteristic is that it is positive and not negative.
The Idea of Jesus is of a true personal moral life for every man,
which belongs to every man as the son of God, to which by his
deepest nature every man tends, from which sin hinders him, into
which he is to be set free. It is the need that every man should
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 353
thus fulfil his own true life which makes the obligation, and must
ultimately make for every man the attractiveness, of duty.
While this is the distinctive New Testament Idea of Duty, the
other Ideas of Duty have their true place. Always "mere moral-
ity, " as it used to he called, is included and involved, not set
aside by the Gospel. Such motives as the fear of the conse-
quences of sin, the honorable gratitude to God, the regard for the
well-being of humanity, the instinctive sense of the beauty of con-
forming to the moral law, are freely used to surround and sustain
the central motive which comes of the soul's revealed possibilities.
Indeed some of these motives may be considered only as other
forms of this motive.
The entrance into this deeper consciousness and into the motive
power which it exercises is Regeneration, the new Birth, not
merely with reference to time, but with reference also to pro-
foundness. Because man has something sinful to cast away in
order to enter this higher life, therefore Regeneration must begin
with Repentance. But that is an incident. It is not essential
to the idea. A man simply imperfect and not sinful would still
have to be born again.
The presentation of sin as guilt, of release as forgiveness, of
consequence as punishment, have their true meaning as the most
personal expressions of man's moral condition as always measured
by, and man's moral changes as always dependent upon, God.
8. PERSONALITY.
Christ's whole conception of life is Personal. Every man is a
true and distinct will and nature. There is no shadow of Pan-
theism or Fate in His teaching. It is the union of this clear
sense of personality with the full declaration of God's all-pervad-
ing life which makes the greatest wonder and power of His life
and doctrine. It is put forth in His teaching of the Father and
the Son. Here is the strong irreconcilable issue of Christianity
and Buddhism.
This personality of Christianity is involved in the fact of its
being a moral religion, and not a system of ideas or a condition of
feeling. It is in moral life, in responsibility and duty, in per-
sonal attainment of character and personal suffering for sin, that
personality becomes clear.
We want to be very clear, in speaking of Christianity, about the
real meaning of Salvation. Only when it means the release from
sin and the attainment to holy personal character does it keep the
essential peculiarity of Christ's teaching, which is personality.
VOL. 11
354 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
9. THE CHURCH.
The struggle of man for personal character directly and con-
sciously pursued must to some extent defeat itself. It must be-
come self-conscious and selfish. Men's social relations giving birth
to constant duties are provided for the training of character in
self-sacrifice and self-forgetfulness. Man forgets even to question
about his own growth in goodness while he serves the souls con-
nected with him and the great whole of humanity.
Although society gets its value from the individuals of which
it is composed and has no existence apart from them, yet as made
up of them it is capable of being conceived of as a Being, with
duties, with rights, with character, able to be developed indefi-
nitely in wisdom and goodness.
It is this ideal society which Christ contemplates when he
established the Christian Church. In other words the Church is
simply the Ideal world. A perfect church would be a perfect
world. The church is imperfect so long as it is not coterminous
with the world.
The church therefore possesses no real existence or character
except those of the men and women who compose it.
The sacraments in their largest view are human rites, that is,
they indicate the universal facts of humanity.
Baptism is the declaration of the universal Fact of the Sonship
of man to God.
The Lord's Supper is the declaration of the universal fact of
man's dependence upon God for supply of life. It is associated
with the death of Jesus because in that, as I said, the truth of
God giving himself to man found its completest manifestation.
10. DEATH.
The soul which has lived in society passes through death alone.
Death is the point where it is reminded of its individuality and
where the points of its life in society are gathered up. This is
the real criticalness of Death, the way in which it becomes proper
to speak of it as a Judgment Time and of the period which pre-
cedes it as Probation.
The continuance of Life through death is the natural assump-
tion of humanity, conscious in itself of something which the appar-
ently wholly physical phenomenon of Death seems not to touch.
Man believes in continued existence because the burden of proof
seems to him to be upon the other side and no one has proved
that death ends all.
jet. 46] RELIGIOUS CONVICTIONS 355
According to the strength and clearness of the sense of person-
ality will be the strength and clearness of men's belief in Immor-
tality.
The ordinary argument for immortality, like that drawn from
the need of moral adjustments, of the need of rewards and punish-
ments, never could create the Faith. They are only its occasional
helpers in its weaker moments.
The Resurrection of Jesus has power in assuring our resurrec-
tion, in the fact that it confirms and illustrates that expectation
which the consciousness of our own personality had produced.
Here, as in other cases, the sense of our own personality in
some weak times will resort to and rest upon the sense of individ-
ual personal life which is strong in other men, and which, as I
said, was supremely asserted first in Christ's own self -conscious-
ness, and then in the way in which He treated the lives of other
men. This is one of the deepest ways in which He " brought
Life and Immortality to light."
11. ETERNITY.
The more natural Death seems the more truly the world beyond
Death will seem to be one with the life on this side of it. Christ,
therefore, in redeeming Death (which we must remember was a
true redemption or bringing it back to its ideal self) redeemed
also Eternity.
At the same time, death, while not the end of Life, must cer-
tainly be a very significant event in Life, and therefore there may
well be a criticalness in it which will make it a true time of
Judgment.
There is no possibility of logically denying the eternal continu-
ance of sin and suffering. It is bound up with the continuance
forever of free will.
On the other hand, there is no possibility of asserting it, for
that, too, assumes a determination of men's free wills which has
not yet been made and which nobody can know.
This life is probationary, but only as every period of existence
is probationary with reference to the times which follow it. It
is not ended in a fixed decree, but in a more strongly assured
character.
Heaven is the soul finding its own perfect personality in God.
The activity of the Eternal Life must be intense. Stated phi-
losophically, it will be the soul working without resistance or re-
luctance in perfect harmony with its surroundings. Stated reli-
giously, it will be the child reconciled in perfect love to the
356 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
Father and serving Him in the delight of love forever. "Which
hope we have as an anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast!"
The strong undercurrent of Phillips Brooks's life during
the year abroad was religious. Natural scenery, art, architec-
ture, historical monuments and inscriptions, everything relat-
ing to famous men, the customs and manners of people, the
course of ordinary life in these he was deeply interested.
But beneath them all he was seeking for the spiritual mean-
ing of human existence in this world. He took the opportu-
nity which his leisure gave him to study the life of Luther,
visiting every spot connected with his career. He made
himself the possessor of many of the original editions of the
great reformer's writings, surprised to find that they could
be bought so cheaply. Kostlin's "Martin Luther," which
had just appeared, was eagerly read. Next to Luther in
his admiration stood Goethe. He studied the Second Part
of Paust, and witnessed an attempt to reproduce it in the
theatre, which he pronounces a failure. He devoted much of
his time to Lessing. He had long been familiar with Les-
sing's ideas regarding the education of the human race, but
he now gave himself up to a thorough study of that most
suggestive work, "Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts,"
writing out in his note-book an abstract of each one of its
paragraphs.
Much of his time was given to writing in his note-book the
thoughts with which his soul was glowing or the impressions
he was receiving. Not for many years had he done such
systematic work in recording what passed through his mind.
The lateral and terminal moraine, that refuse of miscon-
ception, superstition, etc., which an old institution or faith throws
off on its sides as it moves while it is still living, and that which
it leaves as refuse at the end after it has exhausted itself and
perished.
The heaven of Truth lies deep and broad and still,
And while I gaze into it, lo, I see
Some human thought, instinct with human will,
Gather from out its deep serenity.
jer. 46] EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK 357
Awhile it hovers, changes, glows, and fades,
Then rolls away ; and where it used to be
Naught but the heaven of Truth from which it rose
Looks down upon me deep and broad and free.
So have I seen, shaped in the noontide blue,
A floating cloud attain to gradual birth,
And then, absorbed in that from which it grew,
Leave only the great Sky which domes the earth.
What are men's systems, thoughts, and high debates
But clouds which Truth creates and uncreates ?
Standing in the cloud and seeing the dew upon the mountain
tops in front of us.
The sad story of the earnest minister who went to give himself
to study so that he might be more useful. And as he learned
more and more his faith more and more decayed, until at last he
was a learned skeptic, and knew himself that he had destroyed
the vessel in filling it with its true wine. The awful dilemmas
which his life must have presented to his mind.
The truth and value of George Eliot's remark in "Romola, "
apropos of Savonarola, that it is not always the strongest spirits
of a time who are most free from its superstitions. The illus-
trations in one's own time.
"Show thy servants thy work and their children thy glory"
Psalm xc. 16 (Prayer Book version). One generation doing a
piece of the work of God, and the next generation seeing how
splendid it is.
The day returns, and street and lane
Throb with the human life again;
As if one poured the rich, red wine
In the dull glass and made it shine.
The mosaic work, whose pieces being long they can cut the
mass across at various points and find the same figure or face less
a quarter in size, but keeping the same expression. So perhaps
of various ages in history.
"Lord, not my feet only, but also my hands and my head."
The answer of Christ. The cry of dissatisfied men who only need
more impulse and "go " for a complete change of thoughts and
358 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
principles; when what they want is only to put to use more
conscientiously and vigorously what they have.
In Schiller's "Wilhelm Tell," when Gessler's cap is on the
pole the priest comes with the host and stands beside the pole, and
the people bow themselves down to that and so avoid the appear-
ance of disobedience.
As the one test of a well-tied knot is that it shall be so tied
that the more the strain is put upon it the stronger it holds.
As when you fling your window open on the crowded street it
seems as if the noises then began.
The way you sit in a great square in some foreign town (Erfurt)
and see the monument of some dead local hero, but do not care to
go and examine it, sure that you would know nothing about him;
but yet you get a clear and deep and pleasant feeling of past life
and history from it all.
The blessed little towns which have no sights, where you may
just wander about the streets and take it in.
Herder's Wahlspruch, "Licht, Liebe, Lehre." It is on his
tombstone in Weimar and on the scroll which he holds in his
hand in his statue in Herder Platz.
Text: "Living or dying, we are the Lord's."
Text: "And my people love to have it so." The final criti-
cal decision of what the preaching is to be is in the people.
Text: "And what shall be done in the end thereof?" The
culmination of processes. The "entering wedge." The danger
and duty of anticipation.
One of the old Heidelberg professors in the Jesuit days used to
say, "wenn die Fragen der Schiiler ihn in die Enge brachten,
'Unus asinus plus protest negare quam decern docti probare.'
"No fine view to-day," says the guide who shows the castle;
"there is too much cloud." And so the glory of the cloud view
goes for nothing. His one idea is that the greatness of a view is
measured by the distance you can see. Sometimes you can almost
see Strassburg minster eighty miles away. So talk often the
mt. 46] EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK 359
guides into the regions of truth. But constantly it is the very
clouds that make the landscape most worth studying.
In the old church which fronts the square,
By the third altar in the southern aisle
There hangs a picture radiant and fair,
The Virgin Mother with the heavenly smile.
Then describe the same picture standing there still, even in
the dark with no one to see, but the same beauty in it all the
while. The blessing of knowing it is there. So of God's unseen
grace.
Comparison of the people to a fountain (Warzb'urg Schloss
Garden, Sunday afternoon, October 15, 1882). The constancy
of it, though its particles are constantly changing. The constant
effort to go higher and yet the ever undiscouraged failure. The
power proceeding from a mysterious and hidden source the power
telling on each separate particle, yet seeming to move the whole
as one mass, etc.
The figure of the " Stream " of time (or life) is true not only
in other respects but also in this, that it expresses the constant
change along with constant identity which life possesses.
Text: "He taught them as one having authority, and not as
the scribes." This text in the light of the idea that original
utterance of God's true prophecy had ceased since Ezra's time, and
that since that, "Halacha, Midrash, and Hagada had become the
forms of all literary effort." (See Robertson Smith, Old Testa-
ment in Jewish Church, p. 141.)
"A little while and ye shall not see me, and again a little
while and ye shall see me." Text for sermon on the passage
through darkened periods of Life and Faith.
Lessing's "Der Junge Gelehrte " must be more than an amazing
farce. In it we certainly can see two things, one temporary and
local, the other universal and eternal. The universal teaching is
that mere pedantry is not true learning, and that life, no less than
books, has lessons for the learning man. The local application
must be to a state of Germany in his time, when the studying
people, filled with the new enthusiasm of study, were often using
it foolishly, as if it were a valuable and noble thing for its own
sake, the crude condition of the ordinary German student in
those days, of which we see many signs.
3 6o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
In all this travelling one is overcome and oppressed with the
multiplicity of life. The single point where we stand is so
small, yet it is the best and dearest of all. I would not for the
world be anything but this, if I must cease being this in order to
be that other thing. But I would fain also be these other things,
these College Students, these soldiers in their barracks, these
children playing round the old fountain, these actors on their
dotage, these merchants in their shops, these peasant women at
their toil, these fine ladies with their beauty ; I want somehow,
somewhere, to be them all ! and the simplicity, the singleness of
my own life, with its appointed place and limits, comes over me
oppressively. Where is the outlook and the outlet? Must it
not be in the possibility, which is not denied to any of us, of get-
ting some conception of life which is large enough to include and
comprehend all these and every other form in which men live, or
have lived, Or will live forever? And is not such a conception to
be found in Christ's large truth of God the Father? Oh, to
preach or hear some day a worthy sermon on " In Him we live
and move and have our Being " !
This morning as I looked up at the castle [Heidelberg], the sun
streaming through a vacant windowpane just caught a branch of
autumn vine and made it burn so that it seemed as if the room
within was glowing with the light of fire. All the rest was dull
and brown and sombre. Only this one window shone like a lighted
palace window on a winter night. It was as if Frederick and
Elizabeth had come back to the English Bau again.
Text: "Till the time of the restitution of all things." Acts
iii. 21. Pointing to a great rettirn, but not to a previously
realized condition of things, which would be terribly disheartening
rather to that ideal conception of things which is the true "be-
fore, " the antecedent of all intelligible being. Apply to Genesis.
You complain of the details of life and duty, but after all they
are to the great principles what the countless objects of the
Earth's scenery are to the sunlight, the points of manifestation.
What a world empty of everything but sunlight it would be!
That would be a life with noble principles, but no details of duty
or lines of small events.
Oxenstein's speech to his son, "See, my boy, with how little
wisdom the world can be governed."
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK 361
The present condition of our churches is something like an
orchestra tuning up. Each instrument trying itself altogether hy
itself. Some time they must all strike in together and the great
Symphony begin. The high unselfishness of the instruments in
an orchestral piece.
The way in which each speaker in a play must make the situa-
tion ready for the player who is to follow him, prepare for his
speech or action.
Text: "The Son of Man cometh like a thief in the night;
watch therefore." The whole subject of suddenness; nothing is
sudden and yet everything is sudden. Examples in history, Christ,
Luther, Darwin, the illustrations which you '11 find in your own
life. The value of the knowledge of this in bringing about the
true poise of temperament. Expectation without terror, a sense
of naturalness and wonder together.
Sermon on the verse about the Lord God walking in the garden
in the cool of the day.
Text: "Sacrifice and meat offering Thou wouldst not, but
my ears hast Thou opened." Ps. xl. 8. Sermon on God's love
for intelligent worship and for a desire after the truth upon His
people's part.
Text: "This is the victory that overcometh the world, even
your faith." The absolute creed that only by belief in something
higher should man master the lower. Oh, the necessity of loving
purity and great thoughts about great things, not merely being
driven to them. This the child's salvation from brutal vice and
infidel cynicism. Point also to the men who are overcome by the
world for want of Faith.
In connection with the above think of the great danger of
aboKshing that for which we give no substitute. Sometimes it
must be done, and the development or discovery of the substitute
mufst be left to wisdom and power greater than ours, but there is
always terrible danger.
We in America have no complete substitute for the military
training which we rejoice to be free from. The mercantile rivalry
is not a substitute. It lacks the possible self-devotion and noble-
ness.
I
362 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
The "Rundschau" for October, 1882, contains a most interest-
ing address delivered by Professor Haeckel, of Jena, in Septem-
ber, 1882, at th* meeting of German naturalists and physicians in
Eisenach. It is ctlled " Die Naturanschauung von Darwin, Goethe,
und Lamarck." Tt is really a eulogy on Darwin. It opens
with an allusion to the place of meeting and a claim that the New
Era which Darwinism opens is a fit successor to that with which
Eisenach and the Wartb^o- must a i ways be assoc i ated in connec .
tion with Luther. It is intt-esting to think what degree of truth
and what amount of fallacy tht, e i s m this# Luther's protest in
behalf of freedom was indeed the lie ning of a new world, but its
real value was measured by the wortn * the positive aut hority to
which he appealed. Darwin's protest a^ inst the crudeness of
popular Creationism must be his real claim c Q remem k rance m
spite of the very striking letter from Darwin tt ine Q jJaeckel's
pupils, which the Professor quotes, in which Dt, y j n g ^\V
"Science has nothing to do with Christ." It may er j iaps tum
out after all that Science has wiser teachers than the i_ eat g c j en _
tist knew, that Christ's truth of the Father Life of G, ^ as .*
most intimate connection with Darwin's doctrine of ^ ev< - nimpn +;
which is simple, the continual indwelling and action of < rpa f ? '
Power.
I do believe that it is a real test of men's character ,
yourself whether you can think of them in connection with,, .
mothers and fully realize the association. The greates ,,
wisest, the oldest, if only they have kept simplicity and free
if they have genuine reality and truth, will easily enough ,, '
such thoughts. But the sophisticated, the unreal, the vicio _.
untrue, repel them. You cannot bring the mother though,
to them. It does not seem as if they ever had mothers. .,
with the thorough-going man of the world and you will see.
Some people seem to have almost exactly the influence of '-..'
It is an inarticulate influence. It does not communicate ,
but it creates moods. It is incapable of analysis. Men as.' _
to give an account of these people's power over you, and yoiT_
not. You tell your story and the listener asks, "Is that a,
and wonders at your delusion. All that you can do is to s
" Come and see, " as after vainly trying to describe the power oi
piece of music you take your friend to hear it. All influence of
man over man, however rich it may be in the imparting of ideas
and the awakening of the moral sense, seems to be incomplete
unless there is in it something of this musical power of creating
moods.
^t. 4 6] EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK 363
Stein had great contempt for what he called metapoliticians,
who are, as Seeley in his "Life of Stein" defines it, "those who
stand in the same relation to politicians as metaphysicians to the
students of nature." The same feeling which crudely and coarsely
hreaks out in our time against the "scholar in politics," those
"damned literary fellows." There are reason and unreason
in it hoth.
Text: "Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is
deep." Spoken in perfect honesty. A naive expression of the
worldly man's sense of the difficulty of life and of the inadequate
equipment of merely spiritual natures to cope with it. "I really
do not see what the world would come to if all men were Chris-
tians." Let us see.
Text: 2 Cor. v. 11. "We are made manifest to God and I
trust also to your consciences." The two great objects of the
true man's appeal.
Text: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."
A sermon on the need of essential purity, unselfishness, and lofti-
ness of purpose as a condition for all special entrance into the
Reality of Things, which is God.
The beasts in a zoological garden always trying to get out;
their pathetic, brutal inability to be convinced that it is hopeless.
You come back after years, and there is that same bear walking
up and down just as you left him, trying the same bars, and
never giving up the hope that somewhere he may find a gap. It
is the dim memory of savage free life nay, see how even the
beasts born in captivity, who have never known by experience the
freedom of the desert, they too are at the same endless undiscour-
aged effort to escape.
Apply to man's everlasting working away at the problems of
existence. (Berlin Zoological Garden, October 27, 1882.)
Like the bear in his disgraceful humiliation begging for nuts.
The remembrance which we leave behind us when we die only
like the blue smoke which floats off from the candle for a moment
or two after you blow it out.
Launce, in the "Two Gentlemen of Verona," says, "Thou shalt
never get such a secret from me but by a parable." So some
people give out their new ideas about religion.
364 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
What was the dream which long ago
Filled this sweet face with pensive pain?
What pity at some tale of woe
Or longing for some hopeless gain?
Gone are the dreamer and the dream,
Yet still among the things of earth
The pensive pain, like sunset's gleam,
Outlives the sun which gave it birth.
(Picture by Bronzino, in the Dresden Gallery.)
In the palace of the Countess Nostitz, at Prague, is a most
curious picture by Van Eyck which singularly illustrates the way
in which mysticism opens on the one side into coarse materialism,
as we see so constantly in the history of the church. Christ
stands literally in a winepress. On His bent back the great
board is crowded down by the great screw, and out of the gash in
His side the pressure drives a torrent of blood which flows into the
vat in which He stands. Out of mouths in the sides of this vat
the blood comes flowing in smaller streams, and angels catch it
in cups and hand it to the faithful all about, who are drinking it
before one's eyes. Yet there is nothing in all this horrible realism
which is not easily enough matched in the writings of Calvinistic
and Eomish theologians.
The Franz and Carl of Schiller's "Die Rauber " is another
illustration of that disposition to disparage respectability as
against vagrant generosity which is always appearing. It is the
same thing whose real key we have in the parable of the Prodigal
Son.
The nature of the cause in which heroism is shown does not
affect our honor for the heroism itself. We do not like confes-
sion, but the constancy of this St. John Nepomuk, who would not
reveal to Emperor Wenzel (1383) what the Empress had told him
in the confessional, wins our honor nevertheless.
In the old castle at Prague the Bottle-Shaped Dungeon, where
they put victims for starvation, has in its floor a hold leading to a
lower cavern still. When any prisoner was put into the horrid
place the dead body of the last occupant was thrust into this hole
and there decayed, the new wretch dying in the horrid stench of
his predecessor's corpse. So sometimes with doomed Ideas and
Institutions.
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM NOTE-BOOK 365
The English minister at Prague compelled every week to send
his text to the police authorities; sometimes compelled to send
his whole sermon too.
Like a hell buoy got adrift and ringing wildly all over the
ocean.
The conversation of Jesus with the woman of Samaria comes
out very strongly as the type of the narrowness of orthodox con-
servatism (in this case combined with a life of sin) set over against
the breadth which had its root in first principles. "Our fathers
worshipped in this mountain, and ye say that in Jerusalem is the
place where men ought to worship; " "How is it that thou, being
a Jew, askest drink of me, a woman of Samaria ? " How often I
have heard this sort of talk from the true sectarian. And then
the richness and depth of Jesus, "The hour cometh, and now is,
when the true worshipper shall worship the Father in spirit and
in truth."
As when the music of the organ suddenly stops and leaves only
the solid, stolid tramp of outgoing feet.
We are not called upon to set in opposition the two great con-
ceptions of the results of conduct, one of which thinks of them as
inevitable consequences naturally produced, and the other as the
rewards and punishments meted out by the superior insight and
justice of a ruling Lord. Each conception has its value, which
we cannot afford to lose in seeking for the total truth. The first
gives reasonableness and reliability to the whole idea. The
second preserves the vividness of personality. The time was when
the second conception monopolized men's thought. In the present
strong reaction from the second to the first conception it would
be a great loss if we let the second be denied or fade into forget-
fulness.
"When St. Francis Xavier had been buried at Goa, "le corps
du saint fut officiellement declare' vice-roi des Indes et lieutenant
general; et c'est de lui que le veritable gouverneur e*tait cense*
tenir ses pouvoirs ; encore au commencement du dix-neuvieme
siecle, il allait les demander en grande pompe a Bon Jesus avant
de prendre possession de son gouvernement." (Reclus, India, iii.
447.) A picturesque illustration of the way the living are rul-
ing by the work the dead have done. The great dead still really
rule.
366 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
The Ten Commandments based on the idea of liberty. "Thus
spake Jehovah who brought you out of the house of bondage, "
and issuing in the injunctions of duty and righteousness "Thou
shalt and thou shalt not ; " so Liberty and Duty lie together here.
(See Robertson Smith's Prophets of Israel, pp. 40, 41.)
It seems to be almost an indication of the incompleteness of
each thing by itself, and of how each needs all the rest to make
a whole, that we find the full illustration of the qualities of each
in other things than itself, often in those things which are its
opposites. Thus we say of the frank man that he is "simple as
a child," and then we bid the boy "behave like a man." The
hero is "bold as a lion," and the strong voice rings "like a trum-
pet." It is in the individual and the host coming to their several
completenesses together that the final completeness of the whole
must be attained.
I read in a religious paper, "Nothing short of this can differ-
ence the gospel from any other ethical system in kind." Do
we, then, want to difference the gospel from the ethical systems
of the human soul ? Is the impulse which makes us want to do
so the highest impulse of the soul ? Is there not yet a higher
and a truer impulse whereby we may rejoice to see the gospel
sweep into itself all of man's moral effort, and prove itself the
highest utterance of Him who in the million cravings of man for
righteousness has always been, is always, making Himself known?
There are who hold life like a precious stone,
Hither and thither turning it to see
The rich light play in its mysterious depths;
And other men to whom life seems a bridge
By which they pass to things which lie beyond ;
And others still who count life but as wine,
In which they drink their pledges to their friends.
But then there are to whom life's dearness lies
In that it is the pressure of God's hand,
With which He holds our feeble hand in love,
And makes us know ourselves in knowing Him.
There is a stronger and stronger reluctance to have religion
treated purely as a regulative force for conduct. That it will
surely be, but that it will be most surely if it be primarily con-
sidered as the power of a higher consciousness, the power by
which the soul knows itself divine, and enters into conscious com-
munion with God. So, if I could do what I would, I would
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 367
reveal the power of religion to a soul, and thus it should arrive
at lofty contempt for sin, which should he its perpetual safety and
strength. And is not this the real thought which was in all the
ancient talk ahout works and Faith ?
As when a mother proudly holds the hand
Of children, walking one on either side.
Who fight their fights across her, and yet still
Are one in heing hers, howe'er they fight;
So walk we 'mid our struggling fears and hopes.
The way in which the fact that Nelson was mortally wounded
was kept from the knowledge of the men as they fought on to
victory at Trafalgar. (See Rossetti's Sonnets, p. 271.) Some
people seem to think they can do so with a dying doctrine.
The Banyan Tree, dropping its supplementary hranches, which
take root ; then the main trunk decaying, and the tree supported
by these secondary supports. So- of institutions and doctrines,
and their history and first evidences.
"Is there not a lie in my right hand? "
The tragedy and misery of having falsehood at the very seat of
power, not merely an accident of the life, but in possession of its
very citadel.
In addition to his letters and the note-book from which,
these extracts are taken, Mr. Brooks kept a journal where
he records his impressions of travel. By its aid we may fol-
low the lonely man in his wanderings from place to place.
It is too voluminous to be given in full, but a few extracts
from it, which are as characteristic as they are beautiful,
bring us near to the man himself, nearer than his friends
could come as he moved in and out among them.
*&
Berlin, Thursday, September 7, 1882.
The first day in Berlin certainly does not impress one with
anything like brightness or gayety. Everything is dull and lum-
bering. The people, for the most part, very homely, the shops
tiresomely ugly, and the whole having the look of a piece of
coarse material which has not well taken polish, perhaps which
has not yet found the right way of being polished, but has tried
other people's ways and so has failed. At the same time there
is an evident strength, the constant suggestion of not being yet
368 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
finished, but having a future, and the general homeliness in which
the simplest affections show out not unpleasingly.
He comments on the picture of George Gisze, the mer-
chant, by the younger Holbein in the Museum :
Berlin, Friday, September 8, 1882.
It is a picture perfect in its kind, of the best sort of northern
life and mercantile character. No southerner, no dealer with
the abstract as the business of his life, ever looked like that.
He knew affairs. The lovely green wall, before which he sits,
is covered with the apparatus of concrete concerns. He writes
and receives letters, which are what fasten men to common, pre-
sent things. And yet he thinks. Those eyes look beyond his
ledgers. And he has suffered. Not idly is his motto written on
the wall, "Nulla sine merito voluptas."
Where shall such a merchant meet such a painter now? It is
a sober strength which comes from such a picture, a genuine in-
spiration to good and faithful work.
Sunday, September 10, 1882.
Took tea with Baron George von Bunsen and his family, who
were most interesting people, old friends of Stanley's, son of the
famous Bunsen, now member of German Parliament, a broad
churchman and liberal in politics. Is under prosecution for libel
by Bismarck, who, it seems, makes three hundred such prosecutions
every year. Baron Bunsen gives but poor accounts of religious
conditions. Liberal church empty; dogmatists and unbelievers
have things their own way. But it is good to hear of the power
of what he calls the second class, professors, judges, etc.,
who are the real power, the higher society having no power to
oppose them.
Tuesday, September 12, 1882.
Spent some time in the Kunst Gewerbe Ausstellung, where
they have a sort of show and salesroom of the present artistic
manufactures of the town. One thing pervades it all, a certain
heaviness and lack of inspiration and careless ease, which is the
delight of all such work. "Go to, now, and let us make our
furniture beautiful," they have said, and the result is what
we might have expected. The old German work is delightful
because it is unconscious and quaint, very little of intrinsic or
eternal beauty in it. Take the unconsciousness away and let
the race try to be beautiful, and they fail just where the Greeks,
whom they seem to worship with a sort of despairing adoration,
so wonderfully succeeded.
iET. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 369
Berlin, September 15, 1882.
I paid a long visit to Dr. Carl Abel, and found a very intelli-
gent and learned man. He told me of the strong tendency winch
he believes exists at present among the better German classes
towards religion ; not distinctively towards Christianity, but in
general towards theism, although some of it still keeps a pan-
theistic aspect, towards reverent thoughts of the mystery of the
causal powers of life and death. Lotze, who seems to have been
highly honored here, represents the real tendency of German
thought. Of course there is also the growing irreligiousness of
a great busy community, and there is the narrow materialism of
absorbed scientists, but these are special phenomena with their
own explanations. . . .
Monday, September 18, 1882.
In the morning to the Royal Library, a free public library,
where whoever will may come and read, and with simplest pre-
cautions books may be taken out, every way apparently as free
as our own Public Library. It is the love and care for learning
that mitigates the hardness of this northern city. Without that,
and with its all-pervading military habits, it would be barba-
rian. In the library are many interesting manuscripts, but per-
haps the most interesting is the Bible and Prayer Book which,
on the morning of his execution, Charles I. of England gave to
Archbishop Jaxon. How comes it here?
Dined at Baron von der Heydt's. A lovely view over a quiet
lake not far from Potsdam, royal estates all around. Dr. and
Mrs. Henry Potter dined there; also Dr. Strauss, the court
preacher at Potsdam. . . .
Berlin, Wednesday, September 20, 1882.
The beautiful picture of the dead Christ in the Museum, which
was formerly ascribed to Mantegna, is now called by the name of
John Bellini. It is rather hard to give up the old association,
and though no doubt the evidence is sufficient, one cannot help
feeling that the old name suited best the picture's character. It
is a greater picture than Bellini, with all his wonderful sweetness
and beauty, ever made. The greatness of the Christ, and the
tenderness of the sorrowing angels who support him, are both
wonderful.
A pleasant dinner at Dr. Abbott's with Herr von Bunsen, Dr.
Abel, Mr. Sargent, our new minister, and Dr. Frommel, Hof
Prediger, the last a very interesting man, full of eloquence and
imagination, a bit too declamatory for private life, but very
earnest. He differs altogether from StOcker about the Jew ques-
VOL. II
37 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
tion ; thinks Christianity is suffering the reward of its misdoings
hut sees the outcome in the return of the Jews.
Berlin, Friday, September 22, 1882.
A long morning with Herr von Bunsen at the Falk Keal Schule
in the Charlottenherg district. The bright little boys and their
oral arithmetic, the tendency to guess, the frequent mistakes,
but the general quickness and correctness. The gymnasium full
of boys of about fifteen at their physical exercise, the absence of
manly games among German boys, the consumptive look, the pale
faces and thin frames. Then the melancholy religious teaching,
boys being taught to analyze and explain the Epistle to the Gala-
tians, evidently very tiresome to them; a strong confirmation of
the belief that the Bible is not suited to such ways of being
taught. . . .
Berlin, Saturday, September 23, 1882.
I leave Berlin to-day after a little over two weeks' visit.
The people impress me not wholly pleasantly. The enormous
power of the army overshadows everything. Great commercial
activity is everywhere. Social life is generous and free, and in
its best specimens unsurpassed doubtless in all the world, but in
its ordinary aspects it is crude and rude. A coarse personality
is everywhere, and through the whole community there runs a
certain restlessness and fear, a disappointment that the nation
has not won, out of the wonderful success of 1870, the advan-
tages which were so confidently looked for; a sense of constant
pressure from without, the two great neighbors, France and
Russia, never being forgotten for a moment, and a sense of
watchful surveillance within, which makes liberty a partial and
always precarious possession.
Wittenberg, Sunday, September 24, 1882.
A delightful Luther Sunday. In the morning at eight to his
old parish church, where a dull sermon wearied a quite numerous
congregation. The singing was good, and all the time there was
the association of his having preached there, and of this having
been the place where first, in 1522, the communion, in both
kinds, was given to the laity. How formal an event it sounds,
and how essential it really is. The standing of the people while
the text is read is very good. The Augustinian Convent, with
the great Reformer's rooms, is a perfect monument. And that
strange wife of his, who is said to have been so pretty, and looks
so ugly in all the pictures, gives a homely reality to it all. His
little fourteen-year-old girl's picture, hanging in the chamber
where he died, is very pretty. . . .
at. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 371
Hallk, Monday, September 2">, 1.XS2.
Halle has grown greatly since I saw it seventeen years ago.
Now it has 80,000 people, and all the new fine streets which
every growing town, it seems, must have. But still the University
is here, and Francke's Institute. The latter is enormous, and
seems as if it must he very difficult to guard from false develop-
ments, and perhaps also from corruption. But its look of sim-
plicity is very charming, and the German teacher, with his class
of girls, was the very picture of unsophisticated earnestness.
One is ready very seriously and literally to ask who has left a
more enviahle name in the world than Francke. The University
has the same simplicity. Its class rooms are as plain as rooms
can he made, and even its Fest Hall has not succeeded in heing
fine. But its library building is superbly arranged. Professor
Conrad went through the buildings with me, a youngish man,
Professor of Political Economy. I took tea afterwards at his
house : a strong man, talking as they all talk about the poverty
of Germany and the crushing effects of the war. I saw with
him the very curious and interesting cast from Luther's face
after death, which is made into a sitting statue, and, with his
own Bible before him, sits at the window and looks into the
market.
Eisleben, Tuesday, September 26, 1882.
Professor Conrad rode with me in the train almost to Eisleben,
getting out at the station before, where he has a little country
place. He talked of the Church and its lack of hold upon the
people, their slight religiousness. He ascribed it to the dead life
of the clergy, who study theology but not life, cultivate the head
and not the heart, and have not sympathy with the people. It
is the old story, with probably about the usual amount of truth
in it. At least he earnestly regretted that there was not more
religion. He talked also of the superabundance of students,
more than Germany can provide for in learned occupations.
Divinity students are increasing. . . .
Weimar, Wednesday, September 27, 1882.
The poetic character of this town, with its long worship of
Goethe and Schiller, has something artificial, an eighteenth cen-
tury look about it, but very pretty, and the town suits it per-
fectly. It is like a very well-kept room of an unforgotten but
dead friend. One can see Goethe going in and out of Herder's
door, and the park all about the town is a beautiful setting for
it. And Luther preached here in the Stadt Kirche, they say,
on his way to Worms. . . .
372 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
Weimar and Gotha, September 28, 1882.
Of all the pretty Thuringian towns there seem to be none so
pretty as these two. Weimar is a monumental town. It is a
sort of German Concord, with most characteristic differences.
. . . The new Museum, quite at the other end of the town, has
the Odyssey frescoes of Preller, which are models of their kind
of decorative art. The pale and quiet colors keep the dreamlike
vagueness and distance of the whole story. No one can help
being interested, but no one can become anxious or excited over
the doings or the fate of these far-away people. It is as if the
transparent veil of twenty-five centuries were between them and
us. Then, in the Bibliotek, you come to the startling reality
of Luther's coarse and ragged cloak which he wore when he was
an Augustinian monk at Erfurt.
Frankfort, Sunday, October 1, 1882.
There must have been something in the early Reformation
times which tended to bring out the best German character.
Luther is constantly interesting. It must have been partly the
fresh sense of discovery and the feeling of an opening future,
which is always suited to the German mind, and inspires it to its
best. It may also have been the presence of conflict, which the
German also loves. But, whatever it was, it has strangely disap-
peared. Modern German Protestantism is the driest thing. It
seems to have had no power to develop any poetry or richness.
At present it seems to be ground between the upper millstone of
a military state and the lower millstone of the learned universi-
ties. It was almost a relief to be again in the Catholic worship
in the Cathedral here this morning.
Heidelberg, Tuesday, October 10, 1882.
... In the early evening on the great terrace, where after
all is the finest point of view. I watched the lights gradually
kindling in the darkening town, and thought of the Reformation
breaking out at point after point in Europe. . . .
Heidelberg, Wednesday, October 11, 1882.
Goethe chose a most beautiful spot in the Elizabeth Garden for
his point of outlook over the town, which looks very grim and
gray and sets off richly the broad sweeps of color which are on
either side of it. A still finer point is further on towards the
brink of the castle hill, where the garden seems to sweep out for
the very purpose with a sudden jut into the air. Here the leaves
were falling thick as I sat taking my last view of it all to-day.
Last Sunday the English minister preached a very dreary and
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 373
dull sermon about "we all do fade as a leaf." Here was the
real sermon. It was inspiring, but terrible to see each leaf fall,
carrying with it its whole history since it was a bright little
green thing last spring, falling with such perfect quietness, but
having done its duty all summer. . . .
Wurzburg, Sunday, October 15, 1882.
It is something of a notable Sunday in Wurzburg to-day, for
it is the anniversary of St. Burkard, one of the many planters of
Christianity in this region, for it seems to have been planted
and destroyed and replanted again and again. This morning the
Mass in the Neumunster Kirche, under which St. Kilian, the
martyr, another of the early apostles of Wurzburg lies buried,
was fine and crowded. The singing of the people was splendid.
There was a strange spontaneousness about it. It burst out
almost as if it were a common thought of the moment. So dif-
ferent from our "giving out " hymns. . . .
Leipsic, Thursday, October 19, 1882.
The religious question in Germany has suffered from that fate,
which always is disastrous to it, of being made a political ques-
tion. But leaving aside those whose whole interest in the ques-
tion is to be explained on political grounds, there remain certain
clearly recognizable classes: First, the Virchows and Haeckels,
the simply naturalistic people, whose hatred to church and reli-
gion is something quite unknown among us. Second, the oppo-
site extreme, the dogmatic churchmen, whose whole theological
position is retroactive and obstructive. Third, the liberal church
party, who esteem the church purely for its social and police value,
and take little or no interest in its missionary aspects. Such
are some of the rationalistic preachers. Fourth, there is not
clearly shaped nor very prominent a school of thoughtful, earnest,
and enlightened men, to whom the real future of Christianity in
Germany belongs, the men of reasonable faith like Lotze.
Leipsic, Friday, October 20, 1882.
The life of young students here is very curious, supposing them
to be real students, and genuinely in earnest with regard to what
they are about. They are all specialists, none of them are seek-
ing a complete or rounded education. Each of them is dealing
with a people not imitable by him, however admirable they may
be in themselves, out of whose learning he is to pluck the special
knowledge he desires. And they are mostly at an age when a
special hero-worship or enthusiasm seems to satisfy the life and
when the habits of the life are being very deeply founded. There
374 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
certainly could be no circumstances in which the value of loftiness
of purpose and purity of life could come out more strongly,
and with many it does seem to have these inspirations, I mean
among the young Americans.
Berlin, Saturday, October 21, 1882.
As one gets hack again to Berlin, after a month's absence,
there is a new sense of how modern the town's life is, and of
how plain and prosaic the people are. German art so lacks
spontaneity, is so scholastically overridden, and German taste is
so enterprising and so bad. One is very much struck with the
lack of humor which is the rectifying sense. There is immense
heartiness and good feeling, enthusiasm for country, pride in
their heroes, and devotion to ideas ; but of easy and graceful ex-
pression of it there is very little. The public monuments are
generally most unpleasing. The officers of the army are the only
well-built and well-dressed men. The streets lack lightness and
liveliness. . . <.
Berlin, Monday, October 23, 1882.
The minute divisions of the Established Protestant Church of
Prussia within itself are very complicated and numerous. They
suggest, of course, the one thing to be said in favor of a State
Church, that it keeps the different schools of thought in associa-
tion with each other. On the other hand, it certainly develops
animosities and jealousies which are exasperated by the forced
union of antagonistic minds. It is the old question which we
have settled for ourselves by the free liberty of sects. In all
their preaching there is too much eloquence and too little thought.
Berlin, Friday, October 27, 1882.
A visit to Dr. Hermann Grimm, the author of the "Life of
Michael Angelo, " "Life of Goethe," etc., translator of some
small parts of Emerson, lecturer on art in the university. The
picture which, from his point of view, he gives of religion in
Germany, and the way in which it has affected his whole feeling
about religion, is most interesting. He speaks of all that goes
on in the churches as something that does not appeal to him in
any way, and so he never goes to church. He claims that there
are no men who are what Schleiermacher seems to have been,
distinct both from the dogmatists on one side, and from the
equally acid rationalists upon the other. And certainly I myself
have failed to find any such either in personal intercourse or in
reading contemporary books. Professor Grimm then curiously
talked of a certain power which distinctly belonged, he said, to
the Roman Catholic ceremonial, and made many educated men
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 375
feel it as they felt nothing in Protestantism. It was historical
and it was self-possessed. The priest at the altar, with a certain
disregard of the people, husied himself directly with God. He
did not attempt to teach what is unteachable, but he stood be-
tween the soul and God, and in some vague way made the divine
present. Strange enough, surely, to find a man like Professor
Grimm feeling all this, and at the same time feeling the power
of the preaching of Channing and of Parker, of both of whom he
spoke. He speaks hopelessly of religion in Germany, but surely
there can be no room for despair until first the trial of a volun-
tary religion shall be made, and some attempt at a higher priest-
hood than either the Romanist's or Channing's shall be seen.
Berlin, Saturday, October 28, 1882.
It is strange how, in a great gallery like this of Berlin, one
finds his special mood met by one class of pictures and special
rooms attracting him on special days. . . . One day you go
there and Holbein's portraits fascinate you completely, and sat-
isfy your cravings, while, if you wander into the other room, the
faults and crudities of Botticelli are all that you can see. But
to-day his St. John in the Madonna picture seemed full of myste-
rious beauty, and even the Eve, with yellow hair on the black
ground, appeared to appeal to something very real in one's power
of enjoyment. . . .
Berlin, Monday, October 30, 1882.
Professor Zeller's lecture room at eleven o'clock was crowded
with students- who had come to hear him discourse on the History
of Philosophy. He was talking especially of the Greek philoso-
phies as they influenced mediaeval times. The lecture was inter-
esting, but still more interesting the audience. One wondered
what had brought them there, and what they proposed to do with
the knowledge they were getting. They had not the look of
pure students for the pure sake of knowledge, nor did they seem
intellectually ready for great thought. On the other hand, the
profitable purposes to which such knowledge could be turned it
was impossible to see. Professor Herman Grimm, who lectured
from one till two on the Earliest History of Christian Art.
gave a very good sketch of the changes of early German art in
the way of representing the persons of the Trinity. A well-put,
intelligent account, with nothing particularly suggestive or pro-
found. In the afternoon I walked a long, long way, and came
at last down Schleiermacher Strasse to the Dreifaltigkeit Kirch-
enhof, where I saw Schleiermacher' s tomb, and in the evening,
on my way home from hearing Pastor Frommel talk to the coach-
376 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
men and postilions, I passed the Dreifaltigkeit Church, where
Schleiermacher used to preach.
Berlin, Tuesday, October 31, 1882.
It is very interesting indeed, in the Dorotheen Burial Ground,
to see the two quiet simple monuments of Fichte and Hegel
facing each other across the narrow path, which was all wet this
afternoon with rain, and covered with dead autumn leaves trod-
den into the ground. Fichte 's monument bears on one of its
three sides his name, with dates of birth and death; and on an-
other that of his wife, with the assurance that she was the worthy-
wife of such a man; and on the third, the Old Testament text
which tells how those who turn many to righteousness shall shine
like the stars. One feels how late all German greatness is. In
the Reichstag Chamber the things that interest you are the seats
of Bismarck and Von Moltke, and the tablets of great Germans
in the corridors go back no farther than a century. . . .
Dresden, Saturday, November 4, 1882.
One comes back to the sight of anything which he has seen in
his mind's eye, so long as he has seen the Dresden Madonna,
with a sort of fear whether, in all these years, the memory has
not been deceived by the imagination; whether, dreaming of the
world's most perfect picture, his dream has not passed into a
region where no actual power of human art can follow it, and so
the point from which it started will fail to satisfy one who comes
back to it. This is the sort of question which is in one's mind
as he passes through the curtained doorway which leads into the
shrine of the great picture. And he finds it greater than his
dream ! A deeper wonder than his memory has been able to
carry is in the Mother's eyes. The Child looks into a distance
farther than his thoughts have run. The faint, rich heaven of
angel faces behind the scene is sweet and holy beyond any con-
ception which his senses have been fine enough to keep. Before
the picture begins to open to him again its special treasures of
detail, it blesses him with this renewed knowledge of the wonder-
ful power of the highest art.
Dresden, Sunday, November 5, 1882.
Among the religious manifestations of Germany one finds it
hard to discover any trace of that which in England and America
seems to many of us at the present day to be most full of attrac-
tiveness and hope, the devout and spiritual rationalism of
Maurice and Erskine and Washburn, all the more spiritual for
the freedom of its thought, free in its thought just because of the
profoundness of its faith in God. This may exist, but it is cer-
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 377
tainly not a prominent or powerful element in the religion of the
land. There is Pietism; there is scholarly Dogmatism; there
is hard, critical Liberalism ; but unless it be in some trace of
Schleiermacher's influence, or possibly in some power of Tholuck
and such men as he, making their followers broader than they
were themselves, it is hard to find the religious life of which I
speak. The Orthodox all call Schleiermacher pantheistic, as if
every attempt to depict the essential closeness of God's life to
His world must not incur that charge.
Dresden, Tuesday, November 7, 1882.
After seventeen years I come back to the Sistine Madonna, and
find it greater than I thought. One of the things that most im-
presses me about the picture is the wonderful life that is in it.
There is such a stillness in it that it hushes the room in which
it hangs, but yet it is all alive. The Virgin is moving on the
clouds. Her garments float both with the blowing of the wind
and also with her motion. Strangely different it is in this re-
spect from the many pictures in which the Divine Group simply
stands and meditates, or gazes from the canvas. The nobleness
of the arrangement, too, is most impressive. Every rule of high-
est art is there, but swallowed up by the sublime intention of the
work. The pyramid of figures has built itself. What, one won-
ders, were Raphael's feelings as he sent his work off to Piacenza?
Did he know what a marvel he had done ? For among the wonder-
ful things about this picture is the immeasurable degree in which
it surpasses everything else of Raphael's.
Dresden, Wednesday, November 8, 1882.
A perception of the wonderfulness of the art of painting comes
nowhere more strongly than in some of the great portraits. Here
are the Rembrandts, which get, more than any others, the total
conception of the man they portray. No detail detains you.
Just as it lay in the artist's mind, a distinct human thing, not
a mere composition of features and beard. The person looks out
at you from the canvas. There are the Vandykes, so full of
lofty refinement, gentlemen and ladies always, appealing to the
part of us which always feels the power of good taste, even in
Charles I. and Henrietta Maria. Titian, with the sumptuousness
of Venice, and yet able to portray something as sensitive and
delicate and shy as the timidity of the girl in white, who holds
the fan, full of the quality as distinct from the quantity of color.
Battoni's St. John Baptist, which one sees through the door if he
turns his head from looking at the Madonna, is a beautiful, sunny,
living picture.
378 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
Prague, Friday, November 10, 1882.
Two figures occupy the eye at Prague. One is John Huss,
who once was university professor here, and who has left behind
him a power that passed through the great defeat as a spirit
passes through a solid wall and leaves the wall puzzled and de-
feated behind it. Huss's power is in the liberal thought and in-
telligence of the university to-day. There is nothing left of
him by way of relic except a very doubtful house, which perhaps
stands where he used to live, and may have in its walls some of
the old material of his. The other figure is Count Wallenstein,
the very type of earnest, fiery medisevalism, strong, able, true
to conviction, narrow, cruel, dark, and spreading darkness. . . .
Vienna, Monday, November 13, 1882.
The first sight of Austria to one who comes from Germany is
full of suggested contrasts. The people in Vienna are brighter
and handsomer than in Berlin. The whole movement of life is
gayer. But at once is felt, what I believe all later observation
will confirm, that the people to whom we have come are not the
really interesting and respectable people we have left. Germany
teems with ideas, conceives of itself as having a mission in the
world, and expects a future. Neither of these things is true of
Austria.
Vienna, Wednesday, November 15, 1882.
In the Belvedere there is a picture of St. Catherine of Sienna,
which, if the story of that very unpleasing person, that canoniza-
tion of hysterical young womanhood, is ever to be put in paint
at all, paints it aright. It is hard and white, but there is a real
ecstasy about it, the ecstasy of intense, distracting pain. It is
no comfortable damsel, pluming herself on the romance of a
celestial lover, and enjoying the e"clat which her adventure
brought her among her earthly friends who were less fortunate.
It is the eager, straining, yearning after a mysterious love which
is, indeed, more than life to her, for which she would rejoice to
die, nay, for which she is dying as we look at her. She does
not make the subject pleasing or profitable, but at least it gives
the only ideality of which it is capable.
Vienna, Thursday, November 16, 1882.
A figure carved on a gem such as are the most beautiful in the
great collection here seems to have reached a sort of apotheosis.
It floats in light. When it receives the sunlight through it, it
seems to bathe itself in the luminous color, and yet to keep its
own brilliant identity and shape, to be a brighter and distincter
form of light within the light that bathes it. Somewhat as we
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 379
conceive of how in the great world of spirit one spirit, while it
is part of all around it, has its own special personal glory inten-
sified and made more personal. There is also something in the
sense of fineness and eternity combined with the brightness and
glory of a gem that makes it beautiful and impressive to the
imagination. Size is nothing except to connoisseurs. There is
a very small green stone down in the corner of the case hung in
front of the window which is glorious.
Vienna, Friday, November 17, 1882.
In the great Treasury there is what seems as if it must be the
most glorious opal in the world. It is as large as a small pear,
and as it hangs there with the light upon it, it quivers through
and through with fire. The flame which you see seems not to
come from any surface lustre, but out of its very heart. The
mystery of it and the life of it, every one must feel. Indeed,
standing before the whole wonderful collection one feels very
strongly the preciousness of precious stones. It is no fanciful or
conventional value, but something which springs as truly from
a real relation to human nature, though on another side, as the
value of a beautiful face or of a noble thought. It does not de-
pend on rarity. If sapphires like that which tops the Imperial
crown were as plentiful as are gray pebbles, the healthy eye
would see their beauty all the more, not less.
Vienna, Saturday, November 18, 18S2.
In the Belvedere the greatest wealth is in the paintings of the
Venetian school. Titian is there in quite bewildering profusion,
but, as seems always true, it is not in his great compositions such
as the Ecce Homo, which is here, that he is most admirable, but
in the single portrait where an individual life glows with the rich-
ness which it seems to have gathered from generations of ances-
tors who have basked in the sunlight of the south. On the other
hand, Tintoretto, who is represented here only by some noble
portraits, is equally great in splendid compositions, as Venice
bears abundant witness. There is at least one glorious picture
of Giorgione's, where the vine-crowned youth is caught by the
mysterious person who holds him by the collar and gazes into his
astonished face. Only those two heads, but wonderful union of
color and expression.
Vienna, Wednesday, November 22, 18S2.
One building at least our cities at home cannot share, and that
is the barracks of an army. One sound is not heard on our
streets, with which, in the streets of Europe, one's ears become
380 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
awfully familiar. It is the bugle which summons the soldiers
to their drill. They may say all that they can about the value
of the military discipline in Germany and Austria as a school for
raw youths, and we ourselves may sometimes fear lest, in the
absence of anything corresponding to it among ourselves, a certain
tameness may settle down upon our young men's life, and hero-
ism and obedience to authority may fail; but, after all, when we
come to speak seriously about it, words cannot express the privi-
lege we enjoy. Of course its danger and responsibilities come
with it. Its dangers are those to which I just alluded. Its
responsibilities are summed up in the duty which must rest upon
us of finding new and higher cultures for the virtue which the
army does no doubt rudely train, and of developing a purer and
loftier social life out of a soil which is not cursed and exhausted
by the rank weed of military life.
Venice, Thursday, November 23, 1882.
The Pont Ebba route from Vienna to Venice is the very poetry
of railroad travel. It is very long. We left Vienna at seven in
the morning and did not arrive much before midnight. As we
left, Vienna looked its dreariest, dark, cold, and rainy, with the
comfortless, need-driven people crawling to their early work.
But soon after we got out of its gloomy shadow, came the ap-
proach to the hills, and they were streaked and flecked with
snow. Sometimes a sloping side would be completely covered,
then the fields of thin snow would try to make their way up to
the heights, for all the world like great waves breaking on a
rocky shore. . . . The afternoon, rich with sunset, lights up the
valleys, which seemed to lead to heaven; the moonlight superb
and full on mountains made of silver, and afterwards on cold
plains and marshes which stand guard round Venice.
Venice, Friday, November 24, 1882.
Strange how there is nothing like St. Mark's in Venice, no-
thing of the same kind as the great church. It would have
seemed as if, standing here for so many centuries, and always
profoundly loved and honored, it would almost of necessity have
influenced the minds of the generations of architects, and shown
its power in their works. But there seems to be no sign of any
such influence. It stands alone. Either because it seems a work
beyond all chance of being copied, or else, as is more probable,
because the whole disposition to be consistent in architectural
work, to preserve characteristic styles in certain places, is a
modern and artificial idea; or perhaps because the Eastern influ-
ence, which made St. Mark's, died away, and Western influences,
jet. 46] EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL 381
such as made the Frari and Salute, came in instead. Whatever
he the reason, there it stands alone, and there is nothing like it
in the rest of Venice.
Venice, Monday, November 27, 1882.
Venice has two aspects, one sensuous and self-indulgent, the
other lofty, spiritual, and even severe. Both aspects appear in
its history, and both are also in its art. Titian often represents
the former. The loftier, nobler Tintoretto gives us the second.
There is something in his greatest pictures, as, for instance, in
the Crucifixion, at St. Rocco, which no other artist approaches.
The lordly composition gives us an impression of intellectual
grasp and vigor. The foreground group of prostrate women is
full of a tenderness. The rich pearly light, which floods the
centre, glows with a solemn picturesqueness, and the great
Christ, who hangs like a benediction over the whole, is vocal with
a piety which no other picture in the world displays. And the
Presentation of the Virgin, in Santa Maria del Orto, is the con-
summate presentation of that heautiful subject, its beauty not
lost in its majesty.
Venice, Thursday, November 30, 1882.
The sun arose to-day at a quarter past seven superbly over the
Lido, and promised Venice at its best and richest. But directly
after sunrise came the clouds, so that the last day here is cold
and dreary. But in the Academia there is the sunshine of three
hundred years ago. Paris Bordone's glowing picture of the
Fisherman who brings the Ring of St. Mark to the Doge, burned
like a ray of sunlight on the wall. Carpaccio's delightful story
of St. Ursula brought the old false standards of other days back
to one's mind, but brought them back lustrous with the splendor
of summers that seemed forever passed, but are perpetually here.
Tintoretto's Adam and Eve was, as it always is, the most de-
lightful picture in the Gallery, and Pordenone's great St. Augus-
tine seemed a very presence in the vast illuminated room.
Venice, Friday, December 1, 1882.
As one who parts from Life's familiar shore,
Looks his last look in long-beloved eyes,
And sees in their dear depths new meanings rise
And strange light shine he never knew before;
As then he fain would snatch from Death his hand
And linger still, if haply he may see
A little more of this Soul's mystery
Which year by year he seemed to understand ;
382 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882
So, Venice, when thy wondrous heauty grew
Dim in the clouds which clothed the wintry sea
I saw thou wert more beauteous than I knew,
And longed to turn and be again with thee.
But what I could not then I trust to see
In that next life which we call memory.
CHAPTER XIII
DECEMBER, 1882-MARCH, 1883
INDIA. LETTERS AND EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL
The journey to India was strewn with letters all along the
way. In his leisure on shipboard he recalled his friends,
and seemed to be taking a review of his life. His imagina-
tion was excited by the fascinating interest of the land to
which he was going, the first home of the human race,
where religion was in strange and rich exuberance, as was
outward nature. He was to realize the brilliant pictures of
Oriental life and history, with which he had long been famil-
iar through books. With his power of vision in reading life
and detecting its hidden meaning, the opportunity meant to
him a vast increase in knowledge and in wisdom. But with
this prospect before him, his memory carried the past and
made him feel the changes in his life. To his aunt, Miss
Susan Phillips, living in the old house at North Andover,
he had written while he was in Vienna :
It is eighteen years since I was in Vienna, on my first Euro-
pean journey. Then I was on my way to Palestine. One dif-
ference between that year abroad and this I feel all the time.
Then the old home in Chauncy Street was still there, and father
and mother were both waiting to hear what one was doing, and
one of my pleasures was to write to them and to think how I
would tell them all about it when I got back. I miss all that
part of the interest of travel very much now. Sometimes it is
hard to realize that they are not still there, and that I am not to
write to them. At this distance all that has come since I was
here before seems like a dream.
He wrote to the Rev. Frederick B. Allen, the assistant
minister of Trinity Church, who had kept him supplied with
384 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
information in advance, as to the preachers on successive
Sundays :
Beklin, November 1, 1S82.
My dear Allen, I can't tell you how constantly and ear-
nestly I thank you, first for the devotion with which you are
looking after that blessed Parish on the Back Bay, and then for
the fulness with which you have told me all about it. I put one
of your kind letters next my heart and go out on some delightful
excursion, with the comfortable sense that everything is right at
home, and that the Church would just as lief have me here as
there. When I get back I hope you '11 have a host of things
saved up that I can do for you in small token of my gratitude.
My advices thus far have covered the visits of Bishops Beckwith
and Williams. The former I hardly know, but I have pleasant
impressions of him. We smoked together in Stephen Tyng's
study at the last General Convention in New York. I am glad
you liked him. And all the people who have written to me about
his preaching are quite enthusiastic. Bishop Williams is a jewel
of a man, the Prince of all our Bishops. I hope that is
safely over, and will not come again. Did he really ask to be
invited? The insolence of the wretch! I shivered all over when
I opened a paper one day and saw the paragraph headed "Trinity
Church on Fire." Fortunately I did not pack my trunk for
home until I had read on and seen that the fire was out and that
the bill was only fifty dollars. Then I gave thanks for the
escape, and concluded to stay. But I am awfully sorry to hear
how much trouble the bad roof is causing. I hope that Mr.
Richardson, since his return, has given his mind to it, and made
some helpful suggestions. By the way, when the time comes,
why can't you see that the vines are properly covered for the
winter? I have always seen to that, and I doubt if anybody
would look after it if you did n't. How I would like to see you
all, and shut the study door and have a good long talk with you
and Parks and Percy. But the Unter den Linden is rattling
with carriages under my window, and across the street the hosts
of unknown German youth are thronging into the University,
and just above us there is a crowd of people waiting to see the
Kaiser start out for his drive, and Boston is thousands of miles
away. Be sure that I think of the dear old place more confi-
dently and happily because you are there running Trinity Church.
My best love to your children. I hope the new house is all you
wanted it to be.
Ever affectionately yours,
P. B.
^:t. 46-47] INDIA 385
On December 1, he sailed from Venice for India, on the
steamship Poonah, by the way of the Suez Canal, then a new
experience to travellers. To Rev. Arthur Brooks he
writes :
Steamship Poonah, getting pretty near Alexandria
December 6, 1882.
So far the voyage thither has gone very well, hut has not been
particularly interesting. The first days out of Venice were very
rough, and many of the passengers were sick and most of them
uncomfortable and cross. We took most of our passengers at
Brindisi, and since then the weather has been better and the sea
more calm, so that the souls of the Englishmen begin to revive
and they are growing a little bit more sociable. They are mostly
the sort of Englishman who is full of information and intelligence,
totally destitute of imagination or of humor, and absolutely de-
termined to bring all the world to his own standard. He makes
you mad and amuses you and wins your respect all at once, all
the time. . . .
I have got lots of books about the country, and by the time
we get to Bombay I expect to have learned a good deal about it
and to be somewhat prepared for what I have to see. It all
looks more and more attractive the more I learn about it. Your
young friend, Evart Wendell, opened correspondence with me
soon after I left Berlin, and proposed to go to India if his father
would consent ; and the result was that he joined me at Venice
the day before the steamer sailed and is with me now. I find
him a very bright, pleasant, good-natured boy, and he will make
excellent company, I think.
What has become of Bishop Littlejohn since he tried to sit
down on the two young giants of the Boston Club and found it
such uncomfortable sitting? And have you read Allen's paper
in the Princeton? Is it not a genuine contribution to a rational
philosophy of that whole movement of which we are a part, and
whose meaning in the midst of the ages has been often such a
wonder to those who were in the very midst of it ? . . . I want
to see what Chunder Sen thinks about it all when I see him next
month. . . .
It is hard to believe that almost six months of my year is
gone. It has been all that I hoped ; and while I am in no hurry
for the rest to go, I shall be glad to get back into the stream of
work again. Your letter makes me feel very much outside of it.
To the Rev. George A. Strong, rector of Grace Church,
VOL. II
386 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
New Bedford, he writes after the manner of an old and famil-
iar friendship :
December 5, 1882.
I am glad the consecration ceremony is safely over, though I
can't help feeling as if we consecrated it long ago. But now the
Bishop has heen there, and he feels better about it if you don't.
A large part of our relation to our bishops seems to consist in
efforts on our part and theirs to make them feel good. How
well I can see the whole scene: Bishop Paddock's arrival with
his bag; his breaking up the service into little bits among the
clergy like the five loaves and the two fishes, to be set before the
people, and his voice beginning the sentences as he went up the
aisle, and the sermon and the collation and the Episcopal de-
parture. But, dear me, how far away all that is, and how ab-
surd for me to get mad about it at this distance ! It is a lovely
forenoon, halfway across from the heel of Italy to the mouth of
the Nile. The stewards are setting the table for lunch, and
through the open skylight I can hear the brogue of the English-
men on the deck, who are my fellow passengers for Bombay.
The Lascar sailors, who are all Mohammedans and never heard of
Bishop Paddock, are going back and forth in their red turbans,
and the wind that comes in through the portholes is like June.
Truly the Diocese of Massachusetts need not trouble one here.
And not only a few thousand miles, but almost six good months
of pleasant wanderings, are between me and it. Many a time
in these months I have found myself on ground where you and
I have been years ago together. London and Paris and Geneva
and Chamouni and Maggiore and Domo d'Ossola, and a lot of
other places, all brought back recollections of that first journey
when we were young. Dear me, a week from to-morrow I am
forty-seven ! Tell M I have not forgotten about the French
novels, but so far my reading has not run that way. All summer
I read nothing, and this autumn up in Germany I confined my
reading to their crooked text and queer constructions, trying, as
much as my time would allow, to get the hang of what they were
thinking about, and what books they were writing. It was all
very delightful, and I shall always look back on it, especially
upon my life in Berlin, with the greatest pleasure. When you
get this I shall be in Bombay, and now my only reading is in
Indian books, which will prepare me somewhat for that absurd
land. In March I shall come back to Europe. April I expect
to spend in Spain, May and June in England, and, through it
all, I shall wish ever so many times that I could take a train for
jet. 46-47] INDIA 387
New Bedford and have a good long talk by your fireside.
Cooper and I have arranged that you are certainly to go to the
General Convention in Philadelphia next autumn as a sort of
Delegate at Large. Don't fail! My love to M , and my
best regards to the Hathaways and other New Bedford friends.
Good-by, dear fellow. Lunch is ready!
Ever affectionately yours, P. B.
He kept his birthday on December 13, when he was forty-
seven, by a letter to Mr. Robert Treat Paine :
Steamship Poonah, December 13, 1882.
Dear Bob, Halfway down the Red Sea and a glorious
morning! What can I do better than to have a little bit of a
talk with you and answer the letter which I know you have writ-
ten to me, and which I shall get at Bombay. I am the more
moved to it because I have a birthday to-day and am forty-seven
years old. It is a sort of comfort to talk with an old fellow who
was forty-seven long ago, and who makes one feel young by con-
trast. Well, I don't believe that many fellows have had a hap-
pier forty-seven years than I have had. It seems quite absurd,
sometimes, when I think how everything has gone about as I
should have wished. How good everybody has been to me, and
how the world has kept its troubles out of the sea! Why, here
is this Red Sea. Everybody has been talking about how uncom-
fortable it always is, how you can't breathe for the heat, nor
sleep for the closeness of the nights; but here we are, and it is
like an exquisite June day at home, and the punkas are swinging
from mere habit ; and this morning came two splendid showers
such as the Captain says he never saw at this season on the Sea
before. They are a queer set, the people who are on board,
almost all Anglo-Indians, full of intelligence and as hard as
rocks. They hardly talk anything but India, which, of course,
is very good for us who want to learn all we can about the coun-
try we are sailing to, but very monotonous, I should think, for
them. We have been on board now two weeks, and have ten
days more of it before we reach Bombay. Everybody has set-
tled down to the life. This morning, as I passed the captain's
cabin, he was quietly painting a picture, and the boys and girls
are getting up concerts and farces as if they meant to live upon
the Poonah all the rest of their lives.
The Church seems to flourish splendidly without its minister
or its two front roofs. I hope that Trinity House got all the
money that it wanted, and I hear good news from the Chapel.
388 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
Every Sunday I think of things that I would like to say, and
preach myself little sermons. But I am afraid that I shall kill
you all with much preaching when I get home. Good-hy, my
dear fellow, and my hest love to you all. Ever your friend,
P. B.
To Dr. Weir Mitchell he writes, dating his letter from
the Eed Sea :
December 15, 1882.
Dear Weir, I hope that you are well, and your wife, the
little lady, and Jack, all of you well and happy. How I wish
that you were here, and that, instead of this poor letter-writing,
we could go up on deck and get into the breeze which comes over
from the Mocha Hills, and light our cheroots and talk out the
last six months. That is quite long enough, I think, for old
friends to be out of hail of one another, and so I want to send
you at least this Christmas and New Year's greeting, and let
you know that I keep thinking of you and of the pleasant old
days, one of the pleasantest things about which was that I saw
you all the time.
I have had, since June, a summer in France and Italy, and an
autumn in Germany, where I studied their ways and what they
call their language, and went to lectures in tbe University, and
made some pleasant friends, and, what is most of all, stopped
preaching. On the 1st of December I sailed from Venice for
Bombay, and ever since that we have been lounging along in a
slow old craft, crossing the Mediterranean, running through the
Suez Canal, and now, all this week, sailing down the Red Sea.
To-night we came to Aden, and to-morrow we shall be out in
the Indian Ocean. My fellow passengers are Englishmen, hard,
narrow, and intelligent, like all their race. They are of all
sorts and classes. Some of them have titles ; all of them have
brogues. Here is the General who led the cavalry charge at Tel
el Kebir, and Lord Charles Beresford, who ran his little boat in
under the forts at Alexandria, and the ritualistic head of the
Missionary Brotherhood at Delhi, and the Judge of the Hindu
court at Hyderabad. Among them all one finds plenty of inter-
esting information about India, enough to make him very glad
that he is going to have a two months' visit there, and thankful,
from the bottom of his heart, that he has not got to live there, but
can come away when the two months are over. It must be an awful
thing to be a conquered race with the Englishman for your master.
Good-by, my dear fellow. May God bless you always.
Your old friend, P. B.
mt. 46-47] INDIA 389
On the 23d of December he reached Bombay, and was in
India at last. His first act was to telegraph home his safe
arrival, and then the vision of the gorgeous pageantry began.
Of his first impressions on the day of his arrival he writes :
We drove about the town and began our 6ight of Indian won-
ders : Hindoo temples, with their squatting ugly idols ; Moham-
medan mosques ; bazaars thronged with every Eastern race ;
splendid English buildings where the country is ruled ; a noble
university ; Parsee merchants in their shops ; great tanks with
the devotees bathing in them ; officers' bungalows, with the hand-
some English fellows lounging about ; wedding processions, with
the bride of six years old riding on the richly decorated horse
behind the bridegroom of ten, surrounded by their friends, and
with a tumult of horrible music ; markets overrunning with
strange and delicious fruits ; wretched-looking saints chattering
gibberish and begging alms, there is no end to the interest and
curiosity of it all! And this is dead winter in the tropics. I
have out all my thinnest clothes, and go about with an umbrella
to keep off the sun. This morning we started at half past six
for a walk through the sacred part of the native town, and now
at ten it is too hot to walk any more till sundown. But there
are carriages enough, and by and by we go to church. I was
invited to preach at the cathedral but declined.
Although his anticipations were great, he writes that he
finds the country far more interesting than he expected.
He remained in Bombay for a week, where every facility for
seeing what was most important to be seen was afforded
him under the best guidance and advice. He lunched, by
the invitation of the Governor, Sir James Fergusson, at the
Government House, where he met very pleasant people.
He made excursions to old Buddhist temples in the vicinity,
and to the Ellora Caves. But the heat was so excessive that
he suffered, and was glad to escape to a cooler climate.
From Bombay he went to Ahmadabad, taking letters from
Sir James Fergusson to Mr. Phillpotts. Here he struck
Mohammedan influences, and visited the great mosques.
From thence he came to Jeypore, with letters to the Presi-
dent, Dr. Stratton. The Rajah sent him in a carriage to
the entrance to Amber, from whence he made the ascent on
elephants to the deserted town, with its splendid palaces and
39 o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
temples. At Jeypore he preached in the English church.
On January 8 he reached Delhi. Here his young travelling
companion, Mr. Evart Wendell, was taken ill with the small-
pox, so that two weeks were spent there waiting for his re-
covery. He felt deeply the kindness shown to him under
these circumstances by the English residents, Mr. Eobert
Maconachie, of the English Civil Service, and his wife, who
surrendered their house to the invalid. He himself put up
at the Cambridge Mission, with Kev. G. A. Lefroy, whose
acquaintance he had made on the steamship Poonah, and his
companions, Mr. Carlyon and Mr. Allnutt, of whom he
writes :
Three young fellows, graduates of Cambridge, scholars and
gentlemen, live here together, and give themselves to missionary
work. They have some first-rate schools, and are just starting
a high-class college. They preach in the bazaars, and have their
mission stations out in the country, where they constantly go.
I have grown to respect them thoroughly. Serious, devoted, self-
sacrificing fellows they are, rather high churchmen, but thought-
ful and scholarly, and with all the best broad church books upon
their shelves. They are jolly, pleasant companions as possible,
and yesterday I saw a cricket match between their school and the
Government school here, in which one of these parsons played a
first-rate bat. Under their guidance I have seen very thoroughly
this wonderful old city, the great seat of the Mogul Empire,
excessively rich in the best Mohammedan architecture.
To Mr. Eobert Treat Paine:
Lahore, January 15, 1883.
I wish that I could give you some idea of the enjoyment I
have had in the last three weeks. Ever since I landed in Bom-
bay it has been one ever-changing and always delightful picture,
but a picture which not only delighted the eye with color, but
kept the mind busy with all sorts of interesting thoughts. I
cannot begin to tell you about it. That will come in the long
evenings when we sit together over your fire or mine, and I tire
your patience out and you make believe that you are not bored.
But do you know I have seen the Brahmin and Buddhist Rock
Temples at Elephanta and Karli and Ellora, in many respects
the most remarkable monuments which religion ever wrought?
And I have seen the exquisite art of Allmadabad and Jeypore,
jet. 46-47] INDIA 391
and I have been at the great seat of the old Mogul power at
Delhi, and I have studied the most perfect mosque that ever was
made, with a tower like a dream, at Kittub, and now I am in
the land of the Sikhs, and to-morrow I sball see the Golden
Temple at Umritsar, and before next Sunday I sball have looked
at the Taj at Agra, the gem of all the gems of India. And all
the while the most interesting problems of the past, the present,
and the future, have been crowding on the mind. The efforts
of these conscientious, blundering Englishmen to do their duty by
the Hindu, whom they don't like, and who don't like them, are
constantly pathetic. I have just been spending some days with
a household of five young English clergymen at Delhi, who are
doing the best kind of missionary and education work. They are
splendid fellows, whom you would immensely like. The hospi-
tality of everybody here in India, and the way they put them-
selves out to make you comfortable and to let you see every-
thing, is a continual wonder and embarrassment.
Well, when I try to talk about it all, it is so immense that I
talk like an incoherent fool, but I have got it all safely put away
in my mind, and I hope the poor old mind is the better for it.
In the midst of it all you may be sure that I think of you all
very often, and would like to see you step out from some old
Mufti's tomb some day more than I can tell. I am on my way
to Calcutta, which I shall reach early in February, then to the
mountains, then to Madras and Ceylon, whence I sail again for
Aden some time in March. My best love to you all, and may
God keep you all safe and happy.
Your old friend, P. B.
Through the kindness of his parishioner, the late Dr.
Samuel Eliot, he carried letters of introduction from Sir
Richard Temple to the Lieutenant-Governor, Sir Charles
Atchison, by whom he was invited to a "swell dinner in a
gorgeous tent, with about thirty persons, and no end of
picturesque servants to wait on us." While he lingered in
Delhi he preached in the English church. One who heard
him for the first time, with no previous knowledge of him,
recalls how he listened in wonder and a sense of awe. As the
congregation were leaving the church he heard the comments
on every side: "It was a wonderful sermon!" "Who is
he?" "He must be some man of high distinction in the
world."
39 2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
From Delhi he made a trip to Amritsir, in the Sikh coun-
try, a people with a religion of their own.
At Amritsir is their great place of worship, the Golden Tem-
ple, a superb structure, with the lower half of most beautiful
mosaic and the upper half of golden plates, standing in the mid-
dle of an enormous artificial lake, called the Lake of Immor-
tality. There is a beautiful white marble bridge connecting the
island with the shore. I saw their picturesque worship one morn-
ing, just after sunrise.
He was so much associated with the English at Delhi, that
he felt as if an American must be a strange sort of creature.
The English Civil Service he admired as something which
ought to be a pattern to all the world. He found Delhi so
"wonderfully interesting," as the old centre of Mohammedan
power in India, that he did not regret his enforced detention
there. From Delhi he went to Agra, visiting the Taj Mahal,
the most beautiful building in India; then to Cawnpore,
where he was interested in the mission work, and saw the
Divinity School; from there to Lucknow, where he again
met with English missionaries; then to Allahabad, at the
meeting of the Jamna and the Ganges. He was now in the
region where Buddhism originated, and made a pilgrimage to
Asoka's Pillar. And so he came to Benares, the most sacred
city in India, with its five thousand temples, one of the most
ancient cities of the globe. Here he paused for a moment,
and letters were written to Herr von Bunsen and to his sister-
in-law, Mrs. Arthur Brooks :
Benares, January 28, 1883.
My dear Herr von Bunsen, Do you really care to know
that this last week I have seen the Taj Mahal ? It is one of the
few buildings which, like a few people whom one sees in his life,
make an epoch. In the midst especially of this Indian architec-
ture which, rich and interesting as it is, is almost always fantas-
tic and profane, what a wonder it is to find, as the culmination
of it all, as the perfect flower which has grown out of all this
gross and heavy soil, a building whose one absorbing impression is
its purity. One almost feels that here that essence of pure reli-
gion which is lurking somewhere under all the degradation and
superstition of this land has broken forth in an exquisiteness which
jet. 46-47] INDIA 393
surpasses anything that even Christian architecture has attained.
Some day you must come and see it, and get a new memory and
dream for all your life.
India has interested me intensely. Its past and present and
future are all full of suggestion. I long to see Christianity come
here, not merely for what it will do for India, but for what India
will do for it. Here it must find again the lost oriental side of
its brain and heart, and be no longer the occidental European
religion which it has so strangely become. It must be again the
religion of Man, and so the religion for all men. At present the
missionary efforts are burdened with Englishism and American-
ism, and the country does not feel them much; but they are get-
ting broader, and the larger religious life which I am sure has
begun to come at home, must be felt here.
Thank you truly for your kind letter to Mr. Grant Duff, whom
I shall be very glad to see if he is in Madras when I am there.
From what I see in the papers I fear that he will be away, for
which I shall be very sorry.
And very many thanks for your kindness in sending me your
paper on the Liberal Party in Germany. I have read it with
the greatest interest, and it has taught me much. I wish I
could ask you some of the questions it suggests.
May God bless you and yours always.
Most faithfully yours,
Phillips Brooks.
January 30, 1883.
Dear Lizzie, Since I wrote to you last we have come over
from Benares, and to-day have been making a delightful excur-
sion to Buddh-Gaya, where, as Edwin Arnold tells us so prettily,
Gautama sat six years under the Bo tree and thought and thought
and thought until, at last, "was the Dukha-satya opened him,"
and Buddhism began. In these days, when a large part of Boston
prefers to consider itself Buddhist rather than Christian, I con-
sidered this pilgrimage to be the duty of a minister who preaches
to Bostonians, and so this morning, before sunrise, we started
for Gay a and the red Barabar hills. "We had slept in the rail-
way station, which is not an uncommon proceeding in the out-of-
the-way parts of India, where there is no pretence of a hotel,
and where you don't know anybody to whose bungalow you can
drive up as you can to that of almost any man you ever bowed
to in the street. They are a most hospitable folk. Only when
you go to stay with them you are expected to bring your own
bedding and your own servant, which saves them lots of trouble.
394 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883-84
Think of my appearing at your door some afternoon with a mat-
tress and Katie. We had to drive ten miles, and as we went
the sun rose just as it did on Buddha in the same landscape in
the fifth book of the " Light of Asia, " which, as you see, I have
been reading with the greatest interest. We had to walk the
last two miles, because the ponies, who must have been Moham-
medans, wouldn't go any farther. But it was a glorious morn-
ing, and by and by we suddenly turned into an indescribable
ravine. One tumbled mass of shrines and topes and monuments
hundreds on hundreds of them set up by pilgrims for the last two
thousand years, and in the midst, two hundred feet high, a queer
fantastic temple which has been rebuilt again and again, but
which has in it the original Buddha figure of Asoka's time, a
superb great altar statue, calm as eternity, and on the outside,
covered with gold leaf, the seat on which the Master sat those six
long years.
The Bo tree has departed long ago, and the temples were not
there when he was squatting and meditating, but the landscape
was the same; and though this is one of the places where thou-
sands of pilgrims come from both the Buddhist and the Brahmin
worlds, the monuments which they had set up were not as inter-
esting as the red hills on one side, and the open plain on the
other, which Sakya must have seen when he forgot for a moment
to gaze at the soles of his own feet, and looked upon the outer
world. It is a delightful country, this India, and now the cli-
mate is delightful. The Indian winter is like the best of our
Indian summer, and such mornings and midnights you never
saw.
At Calcutta he remained for nearly two weeks. Here as
at every other point his highest interest culminated in the
missionary work. He was studying the situation with an
open mind, ready to see things as they actually were, un-
biassed by the conventionalities of missionary enthusiasm.
He was deeply interested in Chunder Sen, and immediately
on his arrival at Calcutta made the long anticipated call on
the Hindu reformer. In a very important letter to Rev.
Arthur Brooks he gives the impressions he has formed :
February 2, 1883.
Dear Arthur, Calcutta itself has not many sights, and so
it is the people whom one wants most to see. This morning I
spent two hours with Keshub Baboo Chunder Sen. And I '11 tell
jet. 46-47] INDIA 395
you about him. I told old Mr. Dall, the venerable Unitarian
missionary here, that I wanted to see the head of the New Dis-
pensation, and the minister of the Brahma Somaj (winch is an-
other name for the same thing) sent back word that he would be
at home at nine o'clock to-day. On the Circular Road, one of
the chief streets of the city, there is a big house all surrounded
on three stories with verandas, standing inside a garden, around
which is a high pink-washed wall. On the gate-post is inscribed
the name of Lily Cottage, which, I believe, was the title which
a previous occupant gave to the place. Driving in under a great
porte coch&re, we were shown up to a very large, high parlor in the
second story, where we waited for the prophet. It was furnished
comfortably but not tastefully in European style, with rather
cheap pictures on the walls. I noticed especially an engraving
of the Queen, which had been presented to Keshub by her Ma-
jesty; also a very poor little painting of the man himself, sitting
on the Himalayas with a woman by his side, he holding a long
guitar-like instrument in his hand, and clad in the skin of a
tiger. At one end of the room hung a familiar chromo-litho-
graph of Christ, after Carlo Dolci, holding the sacramental cup,
and with the right hand raised in blessing, a large, cheap
Christian picture. While we were looking about, Chunder Sen
came in, a rather tall and sturdy man of forty-five, with a bright,
kindly, open face, a round head, and black mustache and some-
what short-cut black hair. He wore the Eastern white mantle
thrown over his shoulders, and apparently covering a more or
less European dress. He gave me a most kindly greeting, and
at once began to talk. I asked him questions, and he answered
freely and at length. It made me feel very like an interviewer,
but it was the best way to get at what I wanted. He said that
the central position of Brahma Somaj was pure theism. It stood
fairly between Indian Pantheism on one side and Indian idola-
try on the other, insisting fully on the Unity and Personality
of God, and freely calling Him "Father," believing in this
God's perpetual and universal presence. It found his prophets
everywhere, and aimed to hold all the good and true of all sys-
tems and all teachers "in Christ." He mentioned, especially.
Socrates, Mohammed, and Buddha. When you tried to find
just what he meant by holding the truth of them "in Christ,"
he eluded you. He constantly asserted that he held Christ to
be in unique sense the " Son of God, " but said he could not any
further explain his meaning of that phrase. He rejected all
idea of Incarnation. Nor would he own that Christ, in his his-
toric teaching, was in any way the test by which other teachers
396 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
should be judged. He talked much of "Communion with
Christ," but defined it as such profound contemplation of his
character as produced entire sympathy with him, not allowing
anything like personal intercourse with a Christ now living and
communicating with us. Still he clung strongly to that phrase
"in Christ." He described very interestingly the "Pilgrim-
ages " of the Brahma Somaj to Socrates or Buddha or Moham-
med or Carlyle, which consist of gathering in front of the church
and singing hymns and reading some of the great teacher's say-
ings, and then going inside and sitting still and entering into
communion with his character. Besides these, and as something
more sacred, they have occasionally the Lord's Supper, which is
celebrated with Indian sweetmeats and water, and centres in
mystic contemplation of the character of Jesus. They have also
a baptism, which is quite optional, and strangely keeps associa-
tion with the Hindu ablutions on the one hand and with Chris-
tian baptism on the other. He was very interesting in his ac-
count of how he freely uses the terms of the old Hindu mythology,
talking of Siva and Vishnu and Parvati as different sides of
Deity, and hoping so to win the people to spiritual views of what
they have long held materially, and to construct in their minds
a unity out of the fragments of Divine Ideal, of which their
books are full. Thus he hopes some day to appeal to the com-
mon superstitious Hindu mind, though thus far the movement has
been mostly confined to the higher classes, who have been reached
by English education. He said some fine things about the orien-
talism of Christ and Christianity, and about the impossibility of
India ever becoming Christian after the European sort. At the
same time he said unreservedly that the future religion of India
would be a Christ religion. The asceticism to which he clings
is of a very healthy human sort, rejecting entirely the old ideas
of the Fakirs. He pointed to the picture on the wall and said
that there he had had himself painted as a Vedic Bishi, but had
especially taken care to have his wife painted by his side to show
that the true asceticism kept still the family life. As to the
peculiar worship of their society, he told of the new " Dance "
which has been lately introduced, and which has been much
abused. It is, according to him, neither more or less than the
Methodist camp-meeting principle of the physical expression of
spiritual emotion putting itself into oriental shape. For himself
he eats no meat and drinks no wine, but these restrictions are not
enforced nor universal, though they are very commonly observed
as a protest against the self-indulgence into which modern India
is largely running as it departs from its old faiths.
mt. 46-47] INDIA 397
All this and much more was told with a quiet glow and ear-
nestness which was very impressive. The basis and inspiration
of it all was intuition. There was no reference to any authority.
Indeed he almost boasts that he never reads. Even his Christ
seemed to be One of whom he knew not so much by the New
Testament as by personal contemplation. He shrinks from dogma
and definition, and eludes you at every turn. He is the mystic
altogether. As we got up and went out we passed a room where
his household and some other disciples were at morning worship.
Eight or ten men sat cross-legged on the floor with closed eyes,
while one fine-looking fellow in the midst murmured a half-audi-
ble prayer. In one corner of the room was a rustic booth devoted
to supreme contemplation, in which sat one worshipper, who
seemed more absorbed even than the others. At the feet of the
men lay drums and other musical instruments, to which they
would by and by sing a hymn. We had heard them singing as
we sat talking with Keshub Baboo. Behind a thin curtain you
could just see the women's fans. Chunder Sen stood and looked
in with us at the door and told us all about it, and then bade us
a cordial farewell and promised some of his books and a photo-
graph of himself which he has since sent.
This is enough, perhaps, of Chunder Sen! but I thought you
might care to hear of what has interested me immensely. It is
Indian mysticism fastening on Christ and trying to become the
practical saviour of the country by him. They hold in full the
idea of special national religions all embraced and included within
the great religion of the Divine life made known in Jesus.
Surely nothing could be more interesting than this. It is not
Christianity, but it is the effort of India to realize Christ in her
own way, so far as I know, the only such attempt now being
made in any heathen land. Already the natural divergences have
shown themselves. There is the Adi Somaj, or old society,
which desires to return purely to Vedic religion and will not hear
of Christ because he is not in the Vedas ; and there is the Sad-
harar Somaj, or advanced school of Free Religionists. There is
also the Arya Somaj, which still calls itself Brahminic, and
hopes to reform Hinduism from within. The first three together
have some one hundred and sixty congregations in India, of which
some forty are of the Brahma Somaj. I have been much inter-
ested in what the people here who care about religion say about
Keshub and his new dispensation. Some of the missionaries and
other Christian people call him impostor out and out, and do not
believe in his sincerity. I have been unable to get from them
any grounds of their disbelief in him except that they think him
398 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
conceited, and that he went back on some of his precepts about
infant marriages in order to marry his daughter of thirteen to
the Rajah of Kushpahar. An intelligent Brahmin, with whom
I talked, spoke of him with contempt and said his movement was
fast dying out, and told of a strange new life in Hinduism, very
much as the Orthodox churchman talks of Unitarians. Strangely
enough, it is from high English churchmen that I have heard the
most thoughtful and interested comments on the work. The
Bishop of Bombay, a ritualist of very narrow sort, declared it to
be most interesting, and the Bishop of Calcutta told me to-day
that while he had no sympathy with mysticism and thought that
Brahma Somaj would come to nothing because it had no doctrinal
basis, yet he counted Chunder Sen his friend, and praised his
spirituality and earnestness. Our friends of the Cambridge Mis-
sion at Delhi were full of watchful interest in the new movement.
Joseph Cook, when he was here, almost offended some of the
missionaries by his interest in and praise of Chunder Sen. And
some of the missionaries of the German mission believe in his
personal character, and watch his movement with much hope.
Old Mr. Dall has never given in adherence to anything but the
pure theism of the New Dispensation, but is constantly with
them, and naturally enough is claimed by them as more theirs
than he will himself allow.
I am almost ashamed of having written so much about him,
but it does seem to me to be the very kind of thing for which we
are all looking. Brahma Somaj is not the end. It is only the
first sign of the real working of the native soul and mind on
Christ and his truth, which must sometime find far fuller light
than it has found yet. I send you a copy of its paper of January
14, which has (beginning on the first page) an article on Chris-
tian Mission Work in India, which I think must stir the heart of
every missionary. The whole movement and its leader believe
intensely in the Holy Spirit. And I believe that such embodi-
ments of Christianity as India will sometime furnish, and such
as this New Dispensation faintly and blunderingly suggests, will
not merely be different from European Christianity, but will add
something to it, and make the world of Christianity a completer
thing, with its eastern and western halves both there, than it has
ever been before. These are my views. Sometime soon I will
write to you about something else. Now good-night. On Sun-
day I shall go to the cathedral in the morning and to Brahma
Somaj in the afternoon.
While he was at Calcutta he took a long journey for the
jet. 46-47] INDIA 399
purpose of seeing the Himalayas. He writes to Mr. Wil-
liam G. Brooks deseribing bis impressions:
Calcutta, February 11, 1883.
Dear William, This week I have seen the Himalayas.
Last Monday we left Calcutta at three o'clock by rail; at seven
we crossed the Ganges on a steamboat, just as it' it had been the
Susquehanna. All night we slept in the train, and the next day
were climbing up and up on a sort of steam tramway, which runs
to Darjeeling, a summer station at the foot of the highest hills,
but itself a thousand feet higher than the top of Mt. Washington.
There the swells go in the hot months, but now it is almost
deserted. We reached there on Tuesday evening in the midst
of rain, found that the great mountains had not been seen for
eight days, and everybody laughed at our hope of seeing them.
We slept, and early the next morning looked out on nothing but
clouds. But about eight o'clock the curtain began to fall, and
before nine there was a most splendid view of the whole range.
In the midst was the lordly Kinchinjinga, the second highest
mountain in the world, over 28,000 feet high. Think of that!
Certainly, they made the impression of height, such as no moun-
tains ever gave me before.
By and by we rode about six miles to another hill called
Senchul, where the tip of Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in
the world, 29,002 feet, is visible. That was interesting, but
the real glory of the day was Kinchinjinga. We gazed at him
till the jealous clouds came again in the afternoon and covered
him ; then we roamed over the little town and went to a Bud-
dhist village a couple of miles away. The people here are Thi-
betans by origin, and they keep associations with the tribes upon
the other side of the great hills. A company of Thibetans,
priests and Lamas, had come over to celebrate the New Year,
which with them begins on the 9th of February. They had the
strangest music and dances, and queer outdoor plays, and we
were welcomed as distinguished strangers, and set in the place of
honor, feasted with oranges, and begged for backsheesh.
The next morning there were the giant hills again, and we
looked at Kinchinjinga (I want you to learn his name) till eleven
o'clock, when we took the train again for Calcutta, and arrived
there on Friday afternoon about five. It was a splendid journey,
and one to be always remembered. On my return to Calcutta I
found two invitations waiting: one was to dine at the Govern-
ment House with the Viceroy on Thursday evening. Of course,
I was too late for that, and was very sorry, for now I shall not
4 oo PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
see the great man and the viceregal court at all. The other was
to an evening party on Friday, given by the Rajah Rajendra
Narayan del Bahadur, "in honor of the late British victory in
Egypt." Of course I went to this, and it was the biggest thing
seen in India for years. It is said to have cost the old Rajah a
lac of rupees, or $100,000. At any rate, it was very splendid
and very queer, acres of palace and palace grounds blazing
with lights, a thousand guests, the natives in the most beautiful
costumes of silk and gold ; a Nautch dance going on all the time
in one hall, a full circus, horses, acrobats, clowns, and all,
only after native fashion, in a great covered courtyard, supper
perpetual, and the great drawing-room blazing with family jew-
els. I stayed till one o'clock, and then came home as if from
the Arabian Nights, and went to bed. 1
Leaving Calcutta, he came to Madras. While there he
made a trip to the Seven Pagodas, which only needed the
company of his friends to have been complete to his imagina-
tion. Of this trip he wrote several weeks later to Rev. W.
N. McVickar :
Dear William, How often I wished that you and Charles
Cooper were with me off in India. There was one time espe-
cially when I imagined what it would be if you two fellows were
burning tobacco on the same scow's deck. It was on the trip to
the Seven Pagodas, as they call themselves. We drove five miles
from Madras and came to a canal where there were three boats
lying, queerest boats that ever were made. One was for us, me
and my small companion, one for our servants and their cooking,
and one for a Brahmin gentleman who had offered to go with us
and was very wise in Indian Archaeology. He might not go in
our boat because we had no caste, and he must cook his own vict-
uals and eat by himself. But save at eating time he came and
sat with us. And all night long we crept along, drawn not by
horses nor by mules after your Pennsylvania fashion, but by a
score of naked savages, who shone in the moonlight and every
now and then broke out into wild songs as they trotted along the
shore. The nights were glorious, with such an atmosphere as
we never see even in Boston, and the Brahmin (whose name was
Pundit Natesasastri) talked eloquently and looked picturesque
and told all about his strange life and wonderful belief. And I
smoked and wished you fellows were there. And the next day
we saw the most wonderful rock temples and hid ourselves from
1 Published in Letters of Travel, p. 260.
^et. 46-47] INDIA 401
the midday sun at the feet of Siva and Parvati, and then came
hack to Madras by a second night journey like the first. And
all the while Cooper and you were writing sermons when you
might just as well have been with me as not.
This letter to the Rev. Charles D. Cooper, gives us a
specimen of his humor :
Chedambabam, February 22, 1883.
Dear Coopek, In case you do not know where Chedam-
baram is, I will tell you that it is just ten miles from Vaithis-
varankoil, and it is hotter than Philadelphia in fly time. I
have been celebrating the birthday of Mr. Washington by firing
off bottles of soda water all the morning ever since we came in
from our early visit to the wonderful pagoda which is the marvel
of this beautiful but benighted heathen town. The only way to
see things here in Southern India is to start at daybreak, when
the country is cool and lovelier than anything you can imagine.
The palm-trees are waving in the early breeze. The elephants
go crushing along with painted trunks and gilded tusks. The
pretty Hindu girls are drawing water at the wells under the
banana groves. The naked children are frolicking in the dust of
the bazaars. The old men and women are drinking their early
cocoanut, and you jolt along on the straw, in your creaking bul-
lock cart, as jolly as a rajah. So we went this morning to do
homage to the false gods. Vishnu had gone off on a pilgrimage,
and his shrine was empty, but Siva was at home, and the howl-
ing devotees were in the middle of the morning service. They
must have been about at the second lesson when we arrived, but,
owing to the peculiar character of their language, it was not easy
to make out just what stage of the morning exercises they had
reached. But it didn't much matter, for immediately on our
arrival the worship stopped where it was and the officiating
clergyman came forward and ridiculously presented us with a lime
each, and then tried to put a garland of flowers about our Chris-
tian necks. This last attention I refused with indignation, at
his making a heathen so summarily out of a respectable presbyter
of the P. E. Church from Bishop Paddock's diocese. He grace-
fully intimated that he didn't mind my being mad but would
pocket the insult (or do whatever a fellow does who has no
pocket, or indeed anything else except a dirty rag about his loins),
provided I gave him the rupee which he expected all the same.
While I was doing this there was a noise like seven pandemo-
niums outside, and soon in through the gate came a wild crowd
vol. 11
4 o2 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
of savages yelling like fiends and carrying on their shoulders a
great platform on which was a big brass idol all daubed with
grease and hung with flowers. This was Vishnu, just returned
from his sea bath, and in front of him came the craziest band of
music made up of lunatics banging on tom-toms and screeching
away on brazen trumpets three feet long. We saw the ugly
Divinity safe in his shrine, and left the pagans yelling in their
joy at getting their ugly image safely home.
By this time the sun was blazing, as I said, and we came home
to the bungalow, which does duty for a tavern, and set a small
Hindu to pulling away at a punkah rope at the cost of three cents
a day. Then we cut up our sacred limes and poured soda water
on the juice of them and made a drink which I advise you to try
if ever you have to spend a hot day in Chedambaram. Then we
breakfasted on rice and curry and fried bananas, and then I
thought I would write to you and send you my blessing out of the
depths of this Hindu darkness.
I can't tell you what a delightful thing this Indian trip has
been. From the snows of the Himalayas down to these burning
and luxuriant tropics, from the wonderful beauty of the exquisite
Taj of the Mohammedan Emperor at Agra down to the grotesque
splendor of this great Brahmin sanctuary which we have seen
to-day, everything has been fascinating. Oh, if you and Mc-
Vickar and George Strong had been with me all the way! I
have had a pleasant young companion, who has behaved beauti-
fully except when he got the smallpox in Delhi, and kept us there
two weeks. But Delhi is, after all, the most interesting place
in India, and if he was going to do it he could not have chosen
a better place. We were guests there of some fine young Eng-
lish missionaries, who behaved splendidly under the affliction
which we brought down upon them, and I went about with them
and saw the ins and outs of missionary life which, when the
right men are at it, is a splendid thing.
The hot season has set in within the last few days and we
must be away, but I shall leave these gentle Hindus and their
lovely land with great regret. Now we are on our way to Cey-
lon, and two weeks from to-day we sail from Colombo back to
Suez, and then comes Spain. Are you right well, old fellow,
and does the dear old study look just the way it used to do, and
are you counting as much as I am the time when we shall meet
again there at General Convention, and talk it all over and abuse
the s in the dear old way?
Ever and ever yours,
P. B.
mt. 46-47] INDIA 403
To the Rev. Percy Browne :
P. & O. Steamship Rohilla, On the Ganges, February 13, 1883.
My dear Percy, For almost five months I 've carried in
my visiting case the letter which you wrote to me away hack last
September, and I have greeted you in heart a hundred times as I
have looked at it. Now, how are things going with you, really?
One or two glimpses I have had of you in other letters, once
preaching at the reading desk of Trinity (for which I thank you
heartily ! ), once getting sat down on by a Brooklyn bishop for
some first-rate sentiments on missions, once or twice at the Club,
and all the rest my imagination has supplied. But now it is time
that I should tell you how heartily I wished you all Christmas
and New Year's good things. The New Year came in on me in
the midst of an all-night ride on the way back from the wonderful
Buddhist Caves at Elbera, a night ride undertaken to escape
the blazing January sun. It was all very different from the last
old year's night, with its watch-meeting and the walk home in
the snow, and Allen coming in just after with John the Baptist
in his arms, and the long, peaceful smoke together with which we
welcomed 1882. I could only address the heathen Hindu who
was driving me, and wish him, in a tongue he could not under-
stand, a Happy New Year, to which he responded with a friendly
grin and grunt; but for the moment his grotesque figure, in his
dirty turban, represented the human creatures whom I cared for
most, and you may be sure that I did not forget you and all that
I hope to enjoy with you before the year is out, as we rattled on
in the moonlight. The year is more than half over. Germany
was very delightful, but it has sunk back now into the distance
behind this wonderful India, whose pictures of strange life and
suggestions of strange thoughts have been before me for the last
six weeks, a perpetual surprise ! Every morning to come out
and find the Brahmins and the idols and the palm-trees and the
temples and the color and the sunshine still there, and that it was
not a mere spectacle of last evening's theatre or a dream of last
night's sleep. And all the while Boston is there, and you and
the other fellows are getting thick in Lent. What are you lectur-
ing on this year? Last year, I think it was the great Christian
heroes, wasn't it? When Lent is over you will go to work on
your convention sermon, and I know that those who sit and listen
every year will hear this year some healthy, human, and divine
truth, by which I pray thus early that they all may get the edifi-
cation and blessing which they ought. And then, as if after the
diocesan convention all the world must rest, summer will come,
4 04 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
and the pretty Marion house will take you all in again. Before
another winter comes my wanderjahr will he over, and I shall be
there again to see how much you all have outgrown me while I
have been playing by the Spree and the Ganges. I wonder what
changes I shall find. One thing I know I shall find, and it
makes me almost homesick when I think of it, that you have
not forgotten your old friendship, but will come in to my fireside
and let me come out to yours, and we will console one another's
old age and trot down the further side of the hill of clerical life
together hand in hand. God bless and keep you always, you
and the wife and bairns, to all of whom I send love, and am
more and more affectionately yours, P. B.
To the Rev. George A. Strong :
Tanjoke, February 23, 1883.
Deak George, It is the loveliest Indian night, and I am
sitting on the veranda of a travellers' bungalow, and it is cool,
which is more than could have been said of any house to-day since
breakfast time. What can I do better over my after-dinner
cigar than have a little talk with you ? Oh, that you were here,
and that it could be real talk and not this miserable pen-and-ink
business. But that must wait for six months yet. Then we
will do it to our hearts' content.
A travellers' bungalow is a sort of government institution
which exists in every considerable town in India which has no
hotel, and in some that have. It takes you in, gives you a
bedstead. You must bring your own bedding, your own servant,
your own victuals, and here you live as independent as a prince,
or pack up and are off when you have seen the sights or done
your business. The sight of Tanjore is a glorious pagoda, a
vast pyramidal Hindu temple, two hundred feet high, rich with
all sorts of grotesque sculpture from top to bottom, and glowing
with all sorts of colors, red and brown and yellow and green
and black, all mellowed and harmonized with ages. Inside
there is a hideous shrine with a hideous idol, but the outside is
a marvel, and it stands in a great area dotted with palms and
guavas, and with a lot of little temples sprouting as if from the
roots of the big thing. This is our latest wonder; but every day
for the last two months has had its spectacle, and such a sky has
been over all all the time as even New Bedford never sees. . . .
It has been a great success. Everybody has been very hospit-
able, and the only wonder has been to find each morning that
it was not all a dream and has not vanished in the night. But
it is almost over now. Next week we shall be in Ceylon, and
;et. 46-47] INDIA 405
on the 7th of March we sail from Colombo to Suez, and shall bo
in commonplace Europe again before we know it. And bow has
the winter gone with you ? While we are dodging the sun and
lying low all the midday, you are burning your cheerful hie and
trudging through the snow to comfort sick New Bedforders.
And just now it is Lent, I think; 1 am not sure. A day which
I believe was Ash Wednesday I spent up at Darjheeling gazing
at the Himalayas. I have no daily service and no Confirmation
Class. All of these things seem like dim memories, but I am
glad that some of you are more faithful than I am, and are doing
the Gospel work while I am loafing here among these naked
heathen. It is wonderful how little clothes an utter absence of
the Christian faith can get along with! I have almost wished I
was a heathen for this one privilege of heathenism at any rate.
I wonder how the new Church goes, and whether Mr. Hathaway
and Colonel Fessenden still drop in of evenings (remember me
kindly to them if they do) ; and whether you still write sermons
on old scraps of paper and then copy them (I wish that I could
hear one of them day after to-morrow). I do not wonder whether,
for I know that you and M sometimes find time for a
thought of your old friend. P. B.
Tuticovin, India, March 1, 1883.
Dear Mrs. Paine, This place with the strange name is
the last place in India. We came here yesterday fully expecting
to sail away this morning, but the steamer which is to take us
to Colombo has not yet arrived, and so we shall have to spend the
whole day waiting. It is terribly hot, but the picture that one
sees from the veranda of the little Inn is pretty enough. The
shore is lined with native boats, which are loading and unloading,
and perpetual lines of black figures are wading back and forth
with bales on their heads, bringing cocoanuts on shore and carry-
ing Chilis and other Tuticovin produce out to the vessels. They
seem to be enjoying both the water and the sun, and the chatter
which they keep up is deafening. The children play in the sand
in the foreground, and the women take the bales at the margin of
the water and tug them up the beach. In the distance through
the trees I can just see a bit of a native temple and of a Roman
Catholic church.
And this is the last of India. I look back on two months of
as delightful travel as I have ever enjoyed. To be sure, there is
about a week of Ceylon yet to come, but that is not really India
and will be an experience by itself, a sort of hymn after the ser-
mon before we turn our faces homewards. India itself is over,
4 o6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
and the whole already begins to blend into the sort of dream
which one has of a country where he has hurriedly travelled for
a little while. But its interest has been very great indeed. To
speak of only one thing, the constant suggestions about our own
Christian faith which have come from the daily sight of heathen
worship and missionary effort have given me much which I shall
never lose. Christianity grows very simple when one sees the
need of it here. God forbid that it should come to these poor
people, burdened with the elaborations and distinctions which it
has accumulated among us. I hope that I shall be able to preach
with a clearer sense of what the heart and soul of the whole mat-
ter really is, because of what I have seen in India.
I have met with the kindest hospitality everywhere, and have
made some friends whom I shall always value ; but, dear me ! the
new friends cannot be like the old ones, and many a time I have
dreamed of the day when I should come back to you all at home,
or, what I hope will take place first, meet you all somewhere in
Europe in the summer. I hope there are letters over there in
Colombo to tell me of your plans. What you are doing now I
can pretty accurately picture. You are happily settled in the
new house, I am sure, and every now and then I think I hear a
bit of a speech on charity organization wafted on these soft spicy
breezes. My best love always to all from the oldest to the
youngest. God keep you all safe and well.
Always your friend, Phillips Brooks.
From Madras he went to Ceylon, where he spent a week,
visiting the Buddhist shrines, talking with Buddhist priests,
and especially interested in the Buddhist schools and in the
contrast between Buddhism and Hindu religion. As he
could quickly extract from a book its essence, so from con-
versation and observation he was quick to see the significance
of the actual situation. The whole man was alive to the
greatness of the opportunity presented to him. In his spare
moments he was reading important books on India, the
writings of Hunter and Wilkins. On the religion of India
he supplemented what he saw by the works of students such
as Max Miiller, Barth, and Rhys Davids. Trevelyan's
" Cawnpore," the writings of Meadows Taylor, Macaulay's
essays on " Clive " and "Warren Hastings," furnished him
with information which he coordinated with his own experi-
ence. He mentions " Mr. Isaacs," a novel by Marion Craw-
jet. 46-47] INDIA 407
ford, which has caught the real life of the people as he him-
self had seen it, "The atmospheric contrast between the
Englishman's sharp, clear concreteness and the Indian's sub-
tlety and mystery very well brought out." lie found a new
interest in reading again Arnold's "Light of Asia.'' Over
Bishop Ileber's "Journey " he brooded, admiring its spirit,
and gaining great reverence for the man.
Into his note-book there went some of his deeper reflections.
First impressions of a country have their value as compared
with those which a long sojourn induces. In this case the
personality of the observer, his comprehensive outlook, his
psychological penetration, his knowledge of man, and his
genius for religion, all combine to give interest and worth to
the thoughts that follow :
IMPRESSIONS OF INDIAN RELIGION.
Hinduism, the great stock faith. Its wonderful pliability,
philosophical and idolatrous both; subtle and gross at once. In
neither aspect morally elevating.
From time to time moral reforms, which afterwards degenerate
into either, first, theological differences, like Buddhism, and Jain-
ism, its successor; or second, political and military movements,
like Sikhism.
These reform movements always taking place, but always being
reabsorbed by the superior strength of the great Hindu system.
The new theism is a stronger movement, because it has affilia-
tions with the two great forces which are moving in the outer
world.
The strongest point of present Hinduism is probably transmi-
gration. Its effect on habits, no meat eating. Caste is its great
social light and safeguard, keeping its central core solid and com-
pact. The true Brahman cannot travel, must prepare his own
food, etc.
Then comes Mohammedanism, sharp, precise, simple, and in-
tolerant, without philosophy, cutting right through the whole
life of the nation, like a wedge. Existing principally in the
north.
Sikhism was originally a sort of attempt to reconcile Hinduism
and Mohammedanism, but this character has long since gone out
of it.
The Brahmanical doctrine of Identity, the assurance that sin
and misery alike consisted and resulted in the separation of the
4 o8 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
personal soul from the Atman, the universal self, the absolute
existence, and that the struggle of man must be towards, as the
reward of man will be in, his reentrance into the Eternal Identity
by the death of his own individual will or desire. The idea also
that all the finite world is a delusive dream, a Maya, with
which the Eternal Being amuses itself, as it were, and which
must disappear as the mist disappears above the river which runs
on still. All this which we reject entirely as a philosophy, or
answer to the problems of existence, has yet in it a wonderful
power of appeal to some moods of almost all our natures, which
is quite sufficient to make us understand how it could have been,
and is still, held by multitudes of souls.
First the worship of Nature and her great objects and forces ;
then the sense of a creative and governing power behind all;
the analysis of this power into a mythology, this seems to
have been the course of Hinduism. The simplicity of the Vedic
deities, Indra, Agni, and Surya; the Puranie deities opening
from the three, Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva (probably some-
thing to do with aboriginal gods which the Aryans found),
through the incarnations of the second and the progeny and the
harem of the third into a countless pantheon. Along with this
ran the deification process, always manufacturing new deities,
and the priestly impulse making more; for superstition, being
childish, is always desiring more, and discontented with what it
has ; and priesthood hardly ever restrains but always stimulates
and tries to satisfy this longing. These three together are the
causes which produce a mythology :
(1) The naturalistic, analyzing the natural process. (2) The
historic, enlarging real personalities. (3) The priestly, making
gods at popular demand.
The three kinds of deities represented in Brahma, Vishnu, and
Siva: the mysterious, the familiar, and the awful, found in all
religious systems as the conception of God formed by different
nations.
With all the tremendous exaggerations of space, time, and
size, in these Hindu stories, you can get nothing more than the
universal and perpetual human passions. Heroes and gods thirty
feet high, living ten thousand years, can, after all, only love and
hate and wish and dread.
Buddha called a Vishnu incarnation by the Hindus, and his
unorthodox teaching considered to be for the sake of deluding
God's enemies, a most ingenious and theological device.
The Krishnu stories, showing how men will play with their
religion.
jet. 46-47] INDIA 409
Siva is pure spirit, although to render himself perceptible
and conceivable, he deigns to assume a body composed "not of
matter, but of force." The modern sound of this last notion.
The subordinate value of the Trinity idea (Brahma, Vishnu,
and Siva), in Hinduism portrayed in Barth, p. 186 and preced-
ing pages.
The Vedic religion develops but feebly and hesitatingly the
notion of divine personality. Ktima (desire) stirring in the self-
existent mass is vaguely but profoundly declared to be its origin.
Then the personal god Ka (who?) is evolved into the absolute
Tat (that). (See Barth's "Religions of India," p. 30.) This is
very sublime, surely, but the definiteness with which it seems to
point out a central will soon disappears in the multitude of
powers, each of whom has a name which, while it seems personal,
really characterizes only an abstract force.
The old Brahman said, "God is everything, and the earth and
all things sensible are illusion (Maya)." The modern scientist
says, "The sensible things alone are real, and God is all a dream."
Somewhere these two, getting entirely around the circle, must
meet.
Hunter, p. 212, describes the present relation of the people to
the Hindu triad. Brahma, only a handful of worshippers ;
Vishnu supplies a worship for the middle classes ; Siva, a philo-
sophy for the learned, and a superstition, cruel and pale, for the
lowest classes. Is there not something like this in the Chris-
tian's relation to different conceptions of God and Christ ?
Strange lack of creative power in modern Hinduism, their ar-
chitecture is all old.
The endless hope of Brahmanism, which is transmigration, be-
comes by and by the dread and despair of Buddhism, which only
comes to escape from it in Nirvana. The relapse again into the
hopelessness in later Hinduism.
Talk with Brahman gentleman on road from Amber back to
Jeypore. His disbelief in Chunder Sen; unwillingness to be
himself a priest and make profit out of his religion. Declaration
that he would be cast out by his family if he did so. Assertions
that Brahmanism was better than Christianity because it taught
mercy not only to human creatures but to beasts. Dislike of
Christian missionaries because, as he said, they do not live good
lives, which seemed to be a judgment not from moral standards,
but from a purely sectarian one, with regard to religious observ-
ances, etc. Comparison with Roman Catholic missionaries to the
advantage of the latter. The way the Roman Catholics adapt
4io PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
themselves to the people, take their dress and ways of life. He
alleged a want of sympathy of Protestant missionaries with the
people; says that baptism is a great hindrance, expects vaguely
a day when all the religions Mussulman, Hindu, and Chris-
tian will coalesce. Believes in a present awakening among
Brahmans, makes much of Fakirs and the theurgic power of a
pure life, which point, however, is largely technical. Believes
in cure of diseases and inspired sight of truth. Fully adopts
the esoteric view of the gods. Idolatry only for lower classes.
Talks much of Mohammedan oppression, but believes that when
the Mussulman conquered the Hindu that Hinduism was degen-
erate, and needed the discipline. Thinks the same of British
dominion, which he does not regret.
The way in which the great temples at Madura and elsewhere,
with their courts of public resort, and their places for the sale of
goods more or less connected with the worship, remind one of and
throw light upon what one reads of the Temple at Jerusalem.
In the temple at Madura, above a miserable tank, is the carved
image of a Brahman murdering his father; said to signify that
even that crime this tank can wash away.
The great pagoda at Chedambaram is the most terrible speci-
men of pure idolatry. All refinements and subtleties and spir-
itualizations fade away in the presence of such brutality and dark-
ness. All comparisons with the darker sides of Christian history
become mere fallacies.
The awful state of morals at Delhi; unnatural crimes of the
most awful sort. Traceable, perhaps, to the practices of early
marriages and early exhaustion, and of the isolation of women
and consequent constitution of society solely by men. The coun-
try regions better than the city. The absolute failure of Hindu
religion to restrain passion. Certainly occidental morals must
come in; and if in the West those morals rest on Christian faith,
it must be that the Christian faith shall be brought here as their
basis.
As Mr. Brooks passed from India to Ceylon, he had re-
ceived more favorable impressions of Buddhism than of
Indian religion. A few of his remarks on Buddhism will
serve to show that he did not fail to do justice to its truth,
while discerning its weakness. But for Buddha himself he
had a feeling of reverence.
As one sees the Buddhists in Ceylon, there is certainly a look
of intelligence such as one does not easily find in the ordinary
jet. 46-47] INDIA 411
Hindu. There was nothing which we saw (at least in India) like
the Buddhist temple at Colombo, or like the instruction scene at
Kandy.
The three Buddhist notions of (1) Skandha, or the composi-
tion of each man out of elemental conditions, which disunite at
his death, and even if they unite again to make another heing,
who is his true successor, they do not make him. (2) Karma
(act), or the perpetuation of the results of a life in the succeed-
ing being, something quite distinct from transmigration. (3)
Nirvana, the final falling back of this special phenomena of life
into the mass of universal existence ; an anticipation of this in
present life, indifference and rest. In all of these a constant
extinction of personality both human and divine.
It is clear enough that the Buddhist did and does draw a dis-
tinction, perhaps too subtle for our minds to follow, but still real
to him, between Nirvana and personal annihilation.
Buddha's Bo tree, occupying almost the same place in Bud-
dhism that the cross does in Christianity. It marks the differ-
ence. The first religion saves by contemplation, the other by
active sacrifice. No such power given to Christ's temptation.
The pathetic connection of Buddha's doctrine of the misery of
life and the hope of ceasing to be, with the miserable circum-
stances of the special life which he saw about him; with the
German pessimist it is all different ; a fancy theory.
The great remonstrance against caste is the noblest part of
Buddha's teaching.
The lapse into the worship of Buddha (a false personal religion)
shows where the weakness of his system lay. Original Buddhism
a religion of character.
The analogy of the Vedic religions, of Brahmanism, of Hindu-
ism, and of Buddhism, on the one hand, with primitive Chris-
tianity and the early dogmatism and medievalism and the Refor-
mation on another, and with the patriarchal system and Mosaism
and Pharisaism and Christianity on yet another, is illustrative of
the whole constantly repeated movement of human nature. The
step from Vedism to Brahmanism being associated with the rising
authority of the priesthood, and with the loss of the free know-
ledge of the language of the Vedic hymns, corresponds exactly to
the change which took place as the simple substance of the apos-
tolic Christianity passed over into the highly organized ecclesias-
tical and dogmatic systems of the Latin Church.
There is much both in Brahmanism and Buddhism that throws
light upon the varying understandings of the "New" or "Second
birth, " which have played so large a part in the contentions and
412 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
speculations of Christendom. Each of these systems, according
to its intrinsic nature, has its own understanding of the idea and
phrase which both contain. Brahmanism (see Barth, Religions
of India, p. 51) applies it to the boy's formal entrance on a cer-
tain period of life, his established manhood. Buddhism, on the
other hand, makes it mean the perception of profounder truth
which comes with the awakening of the spiritual nature by con-
templation. Both of these unite in Christianity with the idea
of moral determination (transformation where the nature has been
going wrong) to make that complete notion of fulfilled life which
is what the phrase is always struggling for, what it means in the
supreme use of it by Jesus.
Mr. Brooks could not fail to observe the society into which
he was thrown in India; and upon this, as upon Hindu and
Buddhist types of religion, he comments in his note-book.
The Anglo-Indian, the English officials, and the Civil Ser-
vice, the missionaries whose acquaintance he cultivated, are
alluded to in these extracts :
England came into India with a conquest of violence and fraud ;
and, having established herself, she proceeds to govern the coun-
try without sympathy but with careful justice, establishing the
most perfect Civil Service in the world. That service is some-
thing at which we never cease to wonder. Highly paid, well
selected, free from political subservience, so that a very large
part of them to-day are enemies of the present government, they
are the most conscientious, faithful, incorruptible body of ser-
vants, I believe, that are administering the government of any
country anywhere in the world.
The thoroughly high character of the English lieutenant-gov-
ernors. Sir Charles Atchison, at Lahore, Sir Alfred Lyall, at
Allahabad, Sir Rivers Thompson, at Calcutta, Mr. Grant Duff,
at Madras, Sir James Fergusson, at Bombay, and Lord Ripon,
as viceroy : all (especially the first four) men long and intimately
acquainted with India.
English colonel's statement (at Jeypore), that the more an
Englishman sees of other people the more he dislikes them. If
this were true, what a great incapacity it would show for the
work on inferior races, which in these days seems to be more and
more intrusted to the Englishman. There is no love lost between
the two races in India.
The naturalness of the great Mutiny here ; in some views it is
just what Englishmen would most praise if it were not against
jet. 46-47] INDIA 4U
themselves. Of course, it was savage; but they were savages,
and the English had done very little to make them anything else.
- The Anglo-Indian has a sort of mental and moral thin blooded-
ness which somehow or other the English seem able to hear less
than most races. The first-rate Englishman is the best thing in
the world.
The very great assumption of the old Anglo-Indian that he
knew more about the worth of missions than the missionary ; the
likinjr which he often has for R. C. missions, and even for native
idolatries.
The society of India is either gross heathenism, with its almost
total absence of higher things, or English civil life, full of the
littleness of officialism, disliking the country, anxious to be away,
and with more or less of spite or mutual jealousy. Among these,
apart from its direct religious power, how valuably comes in the
sweet, unselfish life of such works as the Cambridge Mission.
His final impressions give the missionaries in India and
the English Civil Service an equal place with the great
Hindu Temple Taj and the great mountain Kinchin jinga.
He had felt some doubts and misgivings about the actual
results, as about the methods of missions when he went to
India. These had disappeared, and in their place rose en-
thusiasm and gratitude and hopefulness. Thus, in most of
his letters he speaks of missions, and repeats his statement
so often, that some repetition here will be excusable. To
Rev. C. A. L. Richards he writes:
These missionaries are really splendid fellows, many, most of
them. One hears from them far more intelligent talk about reli-
gion and the relation of Christianity to other faiths than he
would hear from the same number of parsons at home (outside
the Club). They and the civil servants of the English govern-
ment are doing much for India. Oh, for a Civil Service such as
this at home! I think, next to the Taj and Kinchinjinga, that
is the most impressive sight that I have seen in this strange
land.
The missionaries are as noble a set of men and women as the
world has to show. Tell your friends who " do not believe in
Foreign Missions " (and I am sure there are a good many such)
that they do not know what they are talking about, and that
three weeks' sight of mission work in India would convert them
wholly.
4H PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
He stood in Henry Martyn's pulpit, and the words in-
scribed upon it, "He was a burning and a shining light,"
became luminous with a new meaning. Some of his reflec-
tions on missions, which ever afterwards remained prominent
in his mind, should here be given :
Bishop Heber's clear belief in the possibilities of Indian char-
acter, along with his clear conception of their present degrada-
tion. See his "Journey." The way his character stands out
ideally in the history of Indian missions.
The Bishop of Calcutta, (February 3) talking about the fool-
ishness and uselessness of trying to take the Hindu's view,
"Give them the Englishman's and let them find out their own."
Poor talk.
Curious article in "Home and Foreign Church Work," assert-
ing the need of asceticism in India. I do not believe it.
Missions in India; their naturalness when one is on the ground.
Impossible to think of English people not having them, and so of
all Christian people with reference to the whole heathen world.
Some 300,000 to 400,000 Protestant Christians now in India.
The question how missions look to one in a heathen land ;
intensely practical and absolutely necessary. And, also, as it
must be in the case of the missionary himself, it brings itself to
a personal question, Can this man be lightened with the Light?
The great 250,000,000 are a paralysis. This man is an inspira-
tion, and his conversion or the struggle for it keeps hope alive.
The really unanimous testimony to the Indian's untruthfulness.
The awful business of haggling in the bazaars. The Indian's
own account of it, that it is the result of endless conquests and
successions of tyrannical dynasties.
The first sense of tameness in the converts, loss of their first
rude and fierce picturesqueness. This to be watched over, but
still it must come to some extent. The maniac among the tombs
turned into the well-dressed man going home to his friends.
How much there possibly may be in the Anglo-Indian's state-
ment that the Christian convert is less trustworthy than the
Hindu. Possibly something. His associations are broken, and
he lacks whatever good influence there possibly may be in loyalty
to caste. He has a strong restraint in fellow-men's judgment.
His neighbors despise him. Fear for such, the case in all
transition times. Think of old Corinth, and what its magistrate
must have said of Paul's converts, "Have any of the Pharisees
believed in Him ? "
I do not know of any country where religious statistics would
jet. 46-47] INDIA 415
mean so little, or, at least, would have to be taken with so much
careful reserve as in India. Whole districts have been nominally
converted for the sake of food in famine times; and there is
something disheartening in the way in which Europeans of all
kinds distrust the converted Hindu more than his heathen brother.
Still 1 believe beyond all doubt that the missionaries are doing
a great work, and that the time is not far off when it will show ;
but it must be by some more intimate reading of the thought and
genius of the people than has yet been made ; not merely pluck-
ing brands from the burning, but by putting out the fire.
The Indians have the primary affections very strong, pa-
rental and filial affections, love of kindred, kindness for crea-
tures, craving for immortality, sense of wonder. These are what
Christianity starts with, and what it is to build into completeness.
After all, the Hindu mind, haunted by the conception of escape
and holiness, has something pathetic and sublime about it. No
comfortable settling down to life. Somehow the touch needed,
which shall move all this power into the region of moral life ;
there is where it seems powerless now. The old paradox of much
religion and no morality, which we settle far too easily and off-
handedly when we decide that the religion is hypocrisy.
The only advantage in the multitudinousness of denominations
in India is the chance that it may leave the question open for the
promotion of the national Christianity. Perhaps there was no
other possible way for this to come about but by the variety of
approach, making the establishment of any one type impossible.
the way this possibly might impress a Hindu.
Certainly the change to the newer forms of appeals for missions
involves the confidence in a higher condition, in the working of
better and nobler motives in those to whom we appeal. It may
be a question whether men are ready for it, but here, as always,
I believe very much in the possibility of making them to be by
assuming' that they are. Certainly we see the reverse of this
constantly. Men are made unfit for high appeals by the assump-
tion that they can only respond to the lower.
One high appeal for missions ought to be the need of Chris-
tianity for a broader and completer life, what these other peo-
ple will do for our Christianity if they become Christians. I
think we often understand missions best if we think of the con-
verting power, and that which it tries to convert, as individuals
rather than vague masses. Surely one man may say to another,
"I want you to believe my truth, partly in order that by the way
in which it influences you and by the form in which your mind
apprehends it I may be able to see new sides of it and understand
4 i 6 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1882-83
its richness more." The moon would know more of what light
is, if it could study the earth on which the sun's reflected light
shines from itself.
The reconstruction and simplification of Christian theology is
imperatively demanded by missions. Indeed the missionaries
are quietly doing it, almost unconsciously doing it, themselves.
Christianity as a book religion, resting on the infallible accuracy
of a written word, or as a propitiatory religion, providing a mere
eseape for hopeless culprits, or as a doctrinal religion, depending
on the originality of some statements of truth, all of these aspects
of it fade; and Christianity as a personal faith revealing in
Christ, not simply by Him, the present living fatherhood of God,
becomes the powerful and precious substance of our faith.
CHAPTER XIV
MAY-JULY, 1883
THE JOURNEY FROM INDIA. THE VISIT TO SPAIN. RECEP-
TION IN ENGLAND. VISIT TO TENNYSON. LETTERS. EX-
TRACTS FROM JOURNAL
The return from India began on the 7th of March, when
he went on board the P. & O. steamer Verona, bound for
Gibraltar. During the three weeks on shipboard his mind
was occupied in musing over what he had seen. As a cor-
rective for the wild extravagances of Indian religion, he was
reading William Robertson Smith on the "Place of the Old
Testament in Jewish History," and his "Hebrew Prophets."
In his note-book he entered his reflections on leaving India,
summing up the total impression of his visit :
The voyage from India to Spain carries one from the extreme
east to the extreme west of the triumphs of Islam. The Mo-
guls of Delhi and the Caliphs of Cordova! what a range of en-
ergy, what a history of struggle and suffering, of pride and ruin,
is included !
As one withdraws from India it is very much indeed as it used
to be when one walked farther and farther away from the old
Sivite temples, in the southern districts, Madura or Tanjore.
Gradually the grotesque details were lost. The dancing and dis-
torted gods became obscure. The crude, hard colors mingled into
harmony, the harsh sounds melted into a confused and pleasing
murmur, and a quiet mystery, not unmixed with religious serious-
ness, enfolded and dignified the whole.
So it is with that mass of legend, allegory, and corrupt tradi-
tion, which, taken all together, makes the religion and philosophy
of India. It has large masses of color and not ignoble outlines,
as one looks back on it fading and mingling into memory.
VOL. II
418 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
Steamship Verona, between Colombo and Aden,
March 13, 1883.
Dear Arthur, I am on the way back from India, and you
have no idea what soft and brilliant days these are upon the south-
ern seas. And it is a good time to think the whole thing over,
and to get ready for the next scene in the play. The last thing
before we sailed was Ceylon, with its Buddhism. Ceylon was
beautiful beyond all description. Such tropical luxuriance as one
had dreamed of all his life was in its splendor, and made pictures
which one never can forget. And Ceylon Buddhism had a look
of intelligence and decency after the horrible squalor and coarse-
ness of Hinduism, which was very pleasing. A very different
thing it is from the fetish worship of Thibetan Buddhism, of
which we got a sight among the Himalayas. But as for making
of it a great spiritual religion, with any chance in it for the
salvation of the world, it is too hopelessly absurd. Primitive
Buddhism was a philosophy with controlling ethical purpose.
Modern Buddhism has changed it into elaborate ceremonialism,
and invented for it a mythology. But there is no theism in either,
and in spite of the charm of " Natural Religion, " * there is no
powerful faith without theistic basis. What a delightful book
that is ! I cannot help thinking that there is a good deal of word-
juggling in it, and that what it needs is a clearer definition.
But to bring out as it does the noble and consecrated side of
"modern thought," and to show how it gravitates at its best to-
wards spirituality is a great boon. One grows very impatient at
the way the selfish trader with a wooden faith is counted a more
spiritual being than the self-forgetful student of truth or wor-
shipper of humanity. It is good to have such a strong statement
of the other side.
As the Verona was slowly crawling through the Suez
Canal, subject to long vexatious detentions, Mr. Brooks spent
much of his time in answering letters received from home
before leaving India. He had been kept informed of the
incidents at Trinity Church, the names of the preachers sent
to him in advance enabled him to reproduce every Sunday
"the scene in the blessed old church; " he read with special
interest the list of those confirmed in his absence. About
one item of news he was worried, the sale of the little piece
of land in front of the church, and the current rumor that a
great building was to go up there. He continued to follow
1 Natural Religion, by the Author of Ecce Homo, 1882.
iET. 47 J ENGLAND 419
in imagination every meeting of the Clericus Club, the place
where it met, the essayist, the subject of the essay. While he
had been away new members had been elected. 1
You seem to be enlarging the Club with youngsters, so that
one will hardly know it after a year's absence. Every now and
then I feel a touch of intimation that I am growing old, in a bit
of wonder whether these young fellows are good for much; but
generally I am ready to acknowledge their value, and I am glad
that the Church and the Club should get them in. Only in the
Club we never have got much out of the youngest men. They
have generally seemed to be there more for their own sake than
for the Club's. But perhaps your new acquisitions will do better.
Among the items of religious interest was the publication
of a volume of sermons by Rev. R. Heber Newton of New
York, entitled "Right and Wrong Uses of the Bible." The
book had been sent to him, and after reading the sermons he
speaks of them as "calm, serious, and conscientious," as say-
ing, " what, in the great mass of it, I have no doubt is true,
and once accepted by the Christian world must make the basis
of a better Christianity. They are positive as well as nega-
tive ; and no criticism of small points of style, or discussion
of the accuracy of a few details of criticism, can obscure the
broad view of inspiration and the relation of the Book both
to God and man, which the sermons declare."
I have heard of both the January and the February Clubs, both
of which seem to have revolved about the Bible question. I sup-
pose that Heber Newton and his agitation is, after all, only a
symptom. The whole theological world seems to be wakening to
the need of a new discussion and settlement about its sacred Book.
1 The members of the Club at this time, in addition to those already men-
tioned (cf. ante, p. 58) were : David H. Greer, Frank L. Norton, Francis Whar-
ton, James Haughton, Theodosius S. Tyng, Reginald H. Howe, Charles H.
Ward, Charles H. Babcock, William Lawrence, Darius H. Brewer, George Z.
Gray, Samuel R. Fuller, George J. Prescott, Alexander Mackay-Smith, John C.
Brooks, Leigh ton Parks, Leverett Bradley, George A. Strong, F. B. Allen, T.
A. Snively, L. C. Stewardson, Frederick Burgess, Augustine H. Amory, George
S. Converse, Elisha Mulford, Reuben Kidner, Frederick Courtney, Samuel
Snelling, Charles P. Parker, H. S. Nash, C. M. Addison. To these are to be
added after 1883, A. H. Vinton, Endicott Peabody, H. Evan Cotton, Roland C.
Smith, John S. Lindsay, Frederic Palmer, Arthur C. A. Hall, W. M. Grosvenor,
E. Winchester Donald.
4 2o PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
I cannot feel anything but confident hope regarding the result,
and as to Heber, however it may seem as if his way of going to
work were perhaps not the best, that is a very small matter.
His face is toward the light. And certainly no mischief he can
do can begin to equal the mischief which must come from the
obstinate dishonesty of men who refuse to recognize any of the
new light which has been thrown upon the Bible, and go on re-
peating assertions about it which, if there is such a thing as proof,
have been thoroughly and repeatedly disproved. These are the
men on whom the church in future must look back upon with
reproach, and almost with contempt. So the thing looks to me
from the Suez Canal.
When he learned that the work was creating a stir in
ecclesiastical circles and a heresy trial invoked by those who
resented its teachings, he wrote :
If the man who thinks as soberly and earnestly as he thinks
has no place in our church, then alas for the church! I see my
old friend is first and keenest on the scent. So I was
wrong about him, and Mrs. and your sister were right about
him when they used to. insist that he was narrow and sentimental
and despotic. I send them my apologies and own my mistake.
But what an infinite pity it all is. This wrath of men who ought
to be largest and wisest is the kind of which it seems hardest to
see how the Lord will make it to praise Him, but no doubt He
will.
As he neared Gibraltar he took up the books he found on
the ship which would prepare him, to some extent, for enter-
ing Spain, Irving's "Alhambra" and "Conquest of Gra-
nada," Prescott's "Ferdinand and Isabella," and Lamar-
tine's "Christophe Colomb." "While he was on the Verona
he had formed a friendship with Major Wing, who was re-
turning from India on sick leave, through whose kindness
in giving him a letter to the colonel in command of the forti-
fications was of great service. "The colonel was immensely
civil, took me all over the fortifications, introduced me at
the Club, and made me almost live at his house, where were
a very pleasant wife and children ; so I saw Gibraltar at its
best, and have the brightest recollections of it."
When he reached Madrid, on his journey through Spain,
he learned of the death of two of his aunts, his mother's
mt. 47] ENGLAND 421
sisters, who resided in the old house at North Andover.
For his aunt, Miss Susan Phillips, he felt the affection of a
son. She had been a member of the family during all his
earlier years; and after his mother's death his heart had gone
out to her as if she stood in his mother's place. He wrote to
her frequently, doing all in his power to make her life in the
old homestead a happy one.
Madkid, April 1."), lss;5.
Dear William, Ever since I received your letter yesterday
I have been trying to realize that it is true that aunt Susan and
aunt Caroline are really gone. It seems almost impossible to
picture the old house as it must be to-day. ... I wish so much
that I had been at home, and I hope I shall hear from you some
time about the last of those two long, faithful lives. . . .
It seems as if this great change swept away from the world
the last remnants of the background of our earliest life. Even
after father and mother went, as long as aunt Susan lived, there
was somebody who bad to do with us when we were babies. Now
that generation has all passed away. How many old scenes it
brings up. This is Sunday morning, right after breakfast, and
it seems as if I could see a Sunday morning of the old times in
Rowe Street, with the general bustle of mother and aunt Susan
getting off to Sunday School, and father settling down to read to
the bigger boys in the front parlor ; and there are faint memories
of much earlier days when the aunts must have been blooming
young ladies, though they seemed to us then almost as old as they
ever did in later times. I hope the last years of their lives have
been happy, in spite of the suffering. They have been spared
what was most to be dreaded, long, hopeless illness and helpless-
ness. But I am so sorry to hear that aunt Susan had to suffer.
... If there were ever lives totally unselfish, and finding all
their pleasure in making other people happy, these were they.
We know aunt Susan best, of course, but dear little aunt Caro-
line, with her quiet ways, had something very touching and beau-
tiful about her. She seems to have slipped out of life as unob-
trusively and with as little trouble as she lived.
When I left them, of course I knew it was very likely that I
should not see them again. But all I had heard since made me
feel as if they would be there when I came home. I had a nice let-
ter from aunt Susan in the autumn, which must have been a good
deal of an effort for her to write, and I wrote to her, from India,
a letter which must have reached Andover after it was all over.
422 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
It cannot be long one cannot ask that it should be long
before aunt S follows her sisters. Give her my love and
sympathy. As it may be that she will go before I come home,
the old house be left empty, and something have to be done about
the property, I want to say that I should like to buy it, and I
authorize you to buy it for me, if the chance offers. Or, if you
and Arthur and John would not like that, I will join with any
or all of you to buy and hold it. I do not know whether you
liked it well enough last summer to think of making it a summer
home, but I should like to hold it as a place where, for the whole
or part of any summer, we could gather and have a delightful,
easy time, among the most sacred associations which remain for
us on earth. A few very simple improvements would make it
a most charming place, so do not by any chance let it slip, and
hold, by purchase or otherwise, to as much of the furniture as
you can. One of these days, when I am a little older and fee-
bler, I should like to retire to it and succeed [Rev.] Augustine
Amory at the little church. Is not our window done there yet?
Salamanca, April 27, 1883.
Dear William, And so aunt S too is gone, and the
old house is empty! I only received your letter last evening,
and all the night, as I rode here in the train, I was thinking how
strange it was. These three who began their lives so near to-
gether, long ago, and who have kept so close to one another all
the while, now going almost hand in hand into the other world.
. . . How pathetic it used to be to see aunt S sitting there,
full of pain, trying to do some little bit of good in her curious
ways, with her queer little tracts, and her vague desire to exhort
everybody to be good. I always thought she must have been
one of the handsomest of the sisters when they were young.
Surely, no end that we could have dreamed of for them could
have been more perfect. But how we shall miss them!
To the Rev. James P. Franks :
Madrid, April 28, 1883.
If you were only here we would begin at once with the Velas-
quez pictures, which I shall see to-day for the last time and
which are famous. They stand away up alongside of Tinto-
retto's in Venice for every great quality except that high reli-
gious exaltation which is in the Crucifixion at St. Rocco and one
or two other things which we saw last summer in those golden
days. As to the rest of Spain it is delightful, but one would
rather go to all the other great countries of Europe first. The
jet. 47] ENGLAND 423
Moorish work, the Alhambra and all that, is wonderful; hut as
for Gothic and the great cathedrals, you who have seen Chartres
and Strassburg and Cologne, need not worry yourself at all about
Seville and Granada and Saragossa and Toledo. . . . We were
right last summer, and the dear streets of Pisa and Ravenna and
Bologna were better than anything we should have seen in sultry
Spain. . . .
In the midst of all the brightness of it there has come the sad
news from home. I am sure S will know that I sympathize
with her. The breaking up of families is dreadful. If we could
only all go together. If only brothers and sisters who have been
together in this life could start together for the next. But this
seeing one another off, even although we know that we shall fol-
low in a day or two and find them there, is very sad. That is
what makes us feel that there is some sort of beauty in the way
aunt Susan and aunt Caroline went together. After all these
years in the old house at Andover they have started on the new
experience in the same week. But we shall miss them bitterly.
I want very much to get the old house and make it a summer
bungalow, where all of us, whatever else we may be doing with
our summer, may come and go at will.
A few more words must suffice for Spain. He was there
for nearly a month, travelling for part of the time with the
Brimmers, from Boston, and the Wistars, from Philadelphia.
Architecture, Moorish and Christian, and the pictures of
Velasquez, which he saw in their fulness for the first time,
were the principal objects of interest. In Burgos he found
in one of the towers of the Cathedral what he thought must
have furnished the suggestion to Richardson for the tower of
Trinity Church, Boston. He speaks of Burgos as a wilder-
ness of architectural delight. And altogether he counted
himself fortunate in having returned by way of Spain, the
transition from what he had seen of Mohammedanism in
India to the works of the Moors, and thence to Christian
civilization.
On June 8 Mr. Brooks arrived in England to receive what
proved to be a long ovation. He had already many personal
friends in England ; his books had been widely read there,
and through his books he had the power of speaking directly
424 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
to the heart, and of making himself known, honored, and
loved. Whenever he had preached in England on the occa-
sion of previous visits he had produced the same impression
as at home, creating the widespread desire to see and know
him personally. What it had been in Boston it was now to
be in London , His coming had been awaited with eager
expectation. Many were the invitations which he had re-
ceived in advance, asking him to preach in London, and
especially in the Cathedral churches. They were desirous
that he should have the fullest opportunity to be heard by
the English people, and they placed the great sanctuaries of
England at his service. The Bishop of London sent him a
courteous permission to preach in his diocese, expressing, at
the same time, the desire that he would accept as many invi-
tations as possible. He was also personally invited by the
Bishop of London to preach in St. Paul's Cathedral on Hos-
pital Sunday. His appointments were widely advertised in
the London papers. Among the other churches at which he
preached in London were St. Mark's, St. John'swood, Christ
Church, Lancaster Gate, St. Mark's, Kennington; St. Mi-
chael's, Chester Square; and the Temple Church; outside of
London, Lincoln Cathedral, Wells Cathedral, and St. Pe-
ter's at Arches in Lincoln. Interesting incidents occurred
in connection with his preaching. This is an extract from
a letter written by a person unknown to him, but it has a very
familiar sound :
May 20, 1883.
Dear Sir, Having had the great privilege of hearing you
preach at Westminster Abbey three years ago, and having, since
then, much enjoyed reading a volume of your sermons, I deter-
mined to seize the opportunity of once more hearing you. Ac-
cordingly a friend and I went twelve miles yesterday to the Savoy
Chapel, where you were advertised to preach, but were bitterly
disappointed at being unable to get even standing room, although
we were at the church door half an hour before the service began.
I hope you will pardon my boldness if I ask whether you would
be so kind as to let me know by post-card if you are going to
preach anywhere during this week; for, if so, we should so much
like to make another attempt to hear you.
jet. 47] ENGLAND 425
An English barrister writes to him a request that he
would speak with more deliberation, when he preaches in
Temple Church :
Having had the pleasure of hearing you at St. Paul's, I ven-
ture to ask you to be so good as to adopt for the Temple Church
a rather slower delivery, in order that all may hear. Knowing,
as I do, that our church is a very difficult one in which to hear,
I have ventured to make this request. I should not have done
so had it not been that no one would willingly lose any portion
of a sentence of your sermon.
Dr. Farrar, Archdeacon of Westminster, also made the
suggestion that he should be more deliberate in speaking,
but was told that it was not possible. To the English people
his rapidity was more trying than to his compatriots. Yet
Dean Stanley saw in it one source of his power, comparing
him to "an express train going to its appointed terminus
with majestic speed, and sweeping every obstacle, one after
another, out of his course." In England, as in America,
he was the despair of reporters, owing not only to the ra-
pidity of his utterance, but to the bewildering rush of the
thought as well.
There came to him a request from the Select Preachers'
Syndicate of the University of Cambridge to preach in Great
St. Mary's Church upon Ascension Day, and the Sundays
immediately before and after, in the next year, 1884. He
was obliged to decline it, as it was not probable he should
then be in England. But it was a source of regret to him
that he could not see something of the English universities
during his stay, and he was assured that the invitation would
be renewed on some subsequent occasion, when he would be
able to accept it.
Apart from the public honors shown to him, Mr. Brooks
was the recipient of the most generous hospitality, combined
with a thoughtful kindness and constant acts of courtesy,
which were wholly unanticipated, and made every day of his
two months in England a refreshment and delight. How
wide this hospitality was, enabling him to meet people whom
he had long desired to know, will best be shown by a list
426 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
which he made of his engagements, and including the names
of persons whom he met.
Saturday, May 12, Canon Duckworth's, Mr. and Mrs.
Messer; Friday, May 18, J. R. Lowell's, Mr. Huxley and
Mr. Smalley; Tuesday, May 22, Baroness Burdett-Coutts's,
Archbishop of Canterbury and Mrs. Benson, Dean of Westminster
and Mrs. Bradley, Lord Shaftesbury, Sir F. Leighton, Sir
Thomas Brassey and Lady Brassey, Marquis of Salisbury, etc. ;
Thursday, May 24, at the Law Courts in London with Sir Farrar
Herschell; Saturday, May 26, Archdeacon Farrar 's, Bishop
Lightfoot, Canon Barry, Canon Henning, Mr. Pulester, etc. ;
Monday, May 28, Lady Frances Baillie's, Sir George Grove,
Mr. Matthew Arnold, Mr. Randall Davidson and wife, etc. ;
Thursday, May 31, Mr. Forbes's, Ashley Place; Saturday, June
2, Mr. Christian's, Mr. Kittridge, Dr. Garden, etc.; Tues-
day, June 5, Mr. Humphrey's (St. Martin's in the Field),
Mr. Galton, etc. ; Thursday, June 7, Dr. Vaughan's, Dean
and Mrs. Bradley, Sir Fowell Buxton, etc. ; Friday, June 8,
Mr. De Bunsen's, Augustus Hare, Mrs. Buxton (Lord Law-
rence's daughter), Dr. Brandis, etc. ; Saturday, June 9, Sir G.
Grove's, Miss Stevenson (from Edinburgh), Rev. Mr. Yeaton
and Lady Barbara, his wife; Monday, June 11, breakfast with
Rev. S. Bickersteth, his father (author of Yesterday, To-day,
and Forever), and his brother; Tuesday, June 12, at Bishop of
Rochester's, Mr. Grundy, etc. ; Wednesday, June 13, at Lord
Mayor's, Mr. Holland, Bishop of Winchester, etc.; Thurs-
day, June 14, Lady F. Baillie's, Bishop of Carlisle, Miss
Grant, Mr. Mills. Luncheon at the Duke of Argyll's; Friday,
June 15, luncheon at Mrs. Charles's (author of Schonberg Cotta
Family), Mr. and Mrs. Holiday, Mrs. Thackeray Ritchie,
Mr. Maurice; Sunday, June 17, at Wells, Professor Free-
man, Colonel Maurice, Canon Church; Tuesday, June 19, Mr.
S. Morley's, Mr. and Mrs. H. Childers, Dean and Mrs.
Bradley, etc. ; Wednesday, June 20, P. M. Baroness Burdett-
Coutts's, at Holly Lodge, Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress,
Sir James Fergusson, Rev. Mr. and Mrs. Browne; Wednesday,
June 20, Sir Lyon Playfair's, Sir Thomas and Lady Brassey,
Mrs. Shaw Lefevre, etc. ; Evening, Mr. Hugh Childers's,
Duchess of Teck, Mr. and Mrs. Foster, Lady Holland, Dean and
Mrs. Bradley, etc. ; Thursday, June 21, Alfred Tennyson's,
Isle of Wight, Miss Boyle, Mrs. Lushington, etc. ; Saturday,
June 23, Lincoln, Precentor Venables's Bishop Wordsworth,
Mr., Mrs., and Miss Melville, etc. ; Monday, June 25, Mr.
jet. 47] ENGLAND 427
Paget' 8, Mr. and Mrs. Trevellyan, etc.; Wednesday, June
27, Mr. Shaw Lefevre's party to the Tower, Playfairs, Glad-
stone, Bright, Foster, Morley, Lowell, Hare, Lady Harcourt,
Heywood, etc. ; Thursday, June 28, at Duhvich, Bishop of
Rochester, Boyd, Browning, Jean Ingclow, etc. Dinner with
Bishop of Carlisle, Bonainy Price, Sir James Paget, Macinillan,
Murray, etc. ; Friday, June 2'.), lunch with Colonel Maurice,
Llewelyn Davies. Evening at Lady Stanley's, of Alderley,
Stopford Brooke, Browning, Lady Harcourt, etc. ; Saturday,
June 30, p. m., at Newman Hall's, Dr. Allon, Dr. Farrar,
etc.; Sunday, July 1, lunch at Dr. Vaughan's; P. M., at Mr.
Holiday's; Monday, July 2, at Mrs. Leaf's, Dr. Farrar, Mr.
Arnold, and Miss Arnold; Tuesday, July 3, at Mr. Mills's,
Sir Bartle Frere, etc. Evening at Mrs. Gladstone's, Dr.
Acland, Mr. Bryce, Mrs. Childers, the Endicotts, Miss Glad-
stone; Wednesday, July 4, P. M., Mr. Lowell's reception,
Smalley, Collier, Mrs. Putnam, Miss Holley, etc. ; Thursday, July
5, A. M. at Harrow, Dr. Butler's luncheon, Earl of Dufferin,
Bishop of Manchester, Bishop of Derry, Sir F. Buxton, Dr. Boyd
Carpenter, Canon Flemming, Sir Lyon Playfair, Beresford Hope,
etc. ; Thursday, July 5, Lady Frances Baillie's dinner, Lord
and Lady Selbourne (Lord Chancellor), Sir G. Grove, Browning,
Bishop of Litchfield, Mrs. Ritchie (Miss Thackeray) ; Friday,
July (3, Mr. Flood Jones, Precentor, Westminster Abbey. Lady
Russell, at Richmond; Saturday, July 7, Mrs. John Henry
Green. Bishop of London, garden party, Canon Duckworth,
Dr. Boyd Carpenter, the Messers, etc. ; Mr. Macmillan's,
Mr. and Mrs. Shorthouse, Llewelyn Davies, etc. ; Tuesday, July
10, dined with Major Wing, Mrs. and Miss Everest. Even-
ing at Mr. Gladstone's, Gladstone, Lowe, Lord Dufferin, Lord
Spencer, Sir C. Dilke, Duke of Argyll, etc. ; Wednesday, July
11, lunch with Llewelyn Davies, Mrs. Russell Garvey. Din-
ner with Judge Endicott, Mr. Saltonstall; Thursday, July 12,
breakfast at Mr. Shaw Lefevre's, Mr. Smalley, Mr. Broderick
(warden of Merton College), Mr. Wallace (from Constantinople),
etc. Thursday, July 12, lunch with Dr. Allon, of North Brit-
ish Review, Rev. Mr. Rogers. Dinner at Miss Martin's,
Mr. Wallace, Professor Bayard ; Friday, July 13, lunch at Lady
Frances Baillie's, Miss Selbourne; Friday, July 13, dinner
with Sunday Evening Choir in Jerusalem Chamber, Dean,
Archdeacon, Canon, Precentors, etc. ; Saturday, July 14, lunch
with Major and Mrs. Wing; p. m. at Miss Grant's, Bust of
Stanley, Lady Frances Baillie, Miss Selbourne, etc. ; Sunday,
July 15, lunch at the Rev. Llewelyn Davies's, Bishop of Man-
428 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
Chester, Rev. Dr. E. A. Abbott; Monday, July 16, breakfast
with Ernest de Bunsen, George de Bunsen, of Berlin. Din-
ner at Mr. Francis Buxton's, M. P., No. 42 Grosvenor Gar-
dens, Lady Lawrence (Mrs. Buxton's mother), Rev. Henry
White, etc. ; Tuesday, July 17, dined with Colonel Maurice at
the Army and Navy Club, and with him to F. D. M. Club,
Ludlow, Llewelyn Davies, Blount, etc.
Into many charming English homes he entered as a privi-
leged guest. American friends, who were living in England,
came closer to him. The English people were anxious he
should see and know all that they cherished, as the peculiar
pride, the beauty and glory of England. He had an invita-
tion to visit one of the most beautiful of English rectories,
in Surrey, where he might see English clerical life from its
highest ideal side, which would illustrate the best aspect of
the union of Church and State, wherein also lay the secret
of strength in the development of the Church of England.
From Lord Aberdeen there came an invitation, giving him a
special opportunity to meet Mr. Gladstone, who had been
reading his sermons with great interest. He went down to
the Tower with a party of government people, Gladstone
and Foster and Bright. Once at luncheon he was seated
between Browning and Jean Ingelow. It was an event to
meet Mr. Matthew Arnold, whose poetry he had first read
many years before, and with whose singular and unique
insight into the conditions of modern religious sentiment he
had been greatly impressed. Browning he had met before,
and it need not be said that for one to whom Browning's
poetry had meant so much, any opportunity to see him was
eagerly welcomed.
But the one man of all others whom Phillips Brooks was
most anxious to see was Tennyson. He had met his son,
Mr. Hallam Tennyson (now Lord Tennyson), in London,
who gave him the invitation to visit his father at Earring-
ford, Freshwater, in the Isle of Wight. He was able to
give only one day to the visit, but in that time he had the
poet much to himself; and when the daylight was over, "hav-
ing come to know me pretty well, he wanted to know if I
at. 47] ENGLAND 429
smoked, and we went up to the study, a big, bright,
crowded room, where he writes his Idyls, and there we stayed
till dinner time. Of Mrs. Tennyson he says, "as sweet and
pathetic as a picture." Then once more,
After dinner Tennyson and I went up to the study, and I had
him to myself for two or three hours. We smoked, and he
talked of metaphysics and poetry and religion, his own life, and
Hallani, and all the poems. It was very delightful and reverent
and tender and hopeful. Then we went down to the drawing-
room, where the rest were, and he read his poetry to us till the
clock said twelve, "Locksley Hall," "Sir Galahad," pieces of
"Maud," and some of his dialect poems.
Tennyson, as is well known, was sensitive to being talked
about in the papers, and the next morning, after breakfast,
as he and Mr. Brooks were taking a walk together, he sol-
emnly charged his companion with secrecy as to their conver-
sation the previous evening. He had talked very freely of
people, Mr. Brooks writes to a friend, and expressed himself
with absolute freedom, we may infer, on every topic which
had been broached. But if he had known Phillips Brooks as
his friends at home knew him, he need have had no anxious
fears that he would talk too freely. Mr. Brooks thought that
Tennyson had reason for his almost nervous sensitiveness on
the subject: "Think of sitting talking to your wife upon
the lawn, and suddenly discovering that there was a man up
in the tree listening to what was being said. At another
time a woman was found hidden in the shrubbery."
Phillips Brooks religiously kept his promise to repeat
nothing of the conversation. But this first interview with
Tennyson cannot be dismissed without a moment's reflection
on all it meant. As they sat together in the study after din-
ner for two or three hours, we may imagine Phillips Brooks
face to face with the one man to whom he owed and must have
acknowledged a great obligation. It had been Tennyson,
more than any other, who had been the means of first
opening to him the meaning of poetry, and more than that,
of leading him out from the confusion of his early years.
All that Tennyson had been to the nineteenth century, he
430 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
had been in a more special and emphatic way to Phillips
Brooks. If ever there was an occasion in his life when he
could sit at the feet of a man, as a pupil revering the master,
it was when he was talking with Tennyson, who filled his
ideal of what a great man should be. If ever he could have
unburdened himself to a mortal man, saying what he could
say to no other, it was to the man before him. We may
think that there was then some unveiling of souls, and the
impartation of sacred confidences, for two great souls were
holding communion with each other. To the world at large
Mr. Brooks dismissed the incident in words which tell us
little, as though it had been only one among the many in-
teresting occasions of his life. Tennyson had asked Mr.
Brooks to pay him another visit at his home, Aldworth, Has-
tlemere, Surrey. When he returned there from a voyage to
Copenhagen, it was to learn that Mr. Brooks had gone back
to America. He then wrote to him, saying that he was
grieved to know that he had recrossed the Atlantic, and that
he should not see him again, closing his letter with a sentence
which shows that he liked Phillips Brooks : " The few
hours that I spent at Freshwater in your company will always
be present with me."
Bishop Brooks seldom spoke [writes the Bev. Percy Browne]
of the distinguished people whom he met abroad, but I have
heard him, more than once, describe his impressions of Tennyson
and Browning. He was impressed with the way in which Brown-
ing, whom he met at a dinner in London, threw himself, with
gayety and cheerfulness, into the light conversation of the mo-
ment, interested in amusing anecdotes current in London society,
sharing heartily the pleasure of the hour, but never alluding to
any intellectual problems : " One would think from his conversa-
tion, " Brooks used to say, "that they did not exist for him."
On the other hand, he found Tennyson always opening up a large
philosophic view of life and its problems, sometimes in tones of
sadness, occasionally in a cheerful optimistic spirit, but always
philosophizing. Brooks seemed to have been impressed by this
contrast of the two great poets in the social hour. Browning,
who, in his poetry, dramatized the profoundest problems of life,
ignored them completely in conversation, apparently interested in
only the superficial topics of the moment ; while Tennyson, whose
jet. 47] ENGLAND 431
lucid poetry never taxed the reader's intellect, showed himself in
conversation as a philosophic thinker. In this respect he re-
garded Browning as a more characteristic Englishman than Ten-
nyson.
In speaking of one of his visits to Tennyson, he told how the
poet, when reading aloud his own poems, would sometimes praise
or criticise them as though they were the work of another. On
one occasion he asked: "What shall I read? " "Read ' Locks-
ley Hall," " Brooks replied, "The poem that stirred us all when
we were young. " When Tennyson reached the lines :
" Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands ;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands,"
he called attention to it as being the most perfect poetic image
in his poems. But when Brooks claimed that the imagery was
equally good in the lines :
" Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might ;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight,"
Tennyson insisted that it was inferior to the other, lacking, as
he said, "its Greek simplicity and pictured clearness." "The
figure of the Harp of Life," he said, "is too subjective and com-
plicated in its implications; no, the other is the best."
It was characteristic of Brooks that he should have felt more
sympathy with the spiritually suggestive figure of the Harp of
Life, than with the " Greek simplicity " of the Glass of Time.
Tennyson owned, adds the Rev. Arthur Brooks, recalling
a conversation with his brother, to a natural dislike of the
unmnsicalness of Browning's poetry, while acknowledging
his rich intellect.
The experiences, he said, described in the "In Memoriam, "
as, for instance, in the stanzas beginning, "I had a dream," were
fictitious, but the "Two Voices," as is said in the notes, were
"all true." Phillips Brooks often mentioned his surprise at
Tennyson's confusion and perplexity in speaking of the mystery
of the Trinity as compared with the clearness of his "religious
theism," and his faith in immortality. He quoted Tennyson as
saying that "matter is more mysterious than mind. His mind
one knows well enough, but cannot get hold of the thought of
body." Tennyson also remarked to him that it was in his mind
to write a sequel to " Locksley Hall. "
432 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
The London season was over by the middle of July. The
year of wandering was drawing to its close, but a month
still remained to be disposed of before he sailed for America.
He had been joined in London by his friend, Mr. Robert
Treat Paine, and together they departed for the Continent.
They stopped at Chartres and Bordeaux, and at Pau, near
the Pyrenees. He writes, "The curtain has fallen and risen
again; the whole scene has changed." After a "splendid
Pyrenean week," including a trip to Lourdes, which re-
minded him of the Ganges at Benares, he came to Geneva,
where he seems to have been chiefly interested in getting the
impression of Voltaire. One night was spent at the Grand
Chartreuse :
There are about forty fathers there, Carthusians, in their pic-
turesque white cloaks and cowls. Solitude and silence is their
rule. They spend the bulk of the time in their cells, where they
are supposed to be meditating. I suspect that the old gentlemen
go to sleep. There was a strange, ghostly service, which began
at a quarter before eleven o'clock at night and lasted until two
in the morning. The chapel was dim and misty, the white fig-
ures came gliding in and sat in a long row, and held dark lan-
terns up before their psalters and chanted away at their psalms
like a long row of singing mummies. It made you want to run
out in the yard and have a game of ball to break the spell. In-
stead of that, after watching it for half an hour, we crept back
along a vast corridor to the cells which had been allotted us, each
with its priedieu and its crucifix, and went to bed in the hardest,
shortest, and lumpiest of beds. In the morning a good deal of
the romance and awfulness was gone, but it was very fine and
interesting, and the drive down into the valley on the other side
at Chambery was as pretty as a whole gallery of pictures.
In his "Letters of Travel" will be found an account of
how the journey proceeded ; from Geneva to Miirren, thence
to Interlaken and Lucerne, and through the St. Gotthard
tunnel to Italy. Prom Italy he came back through the Tyrol,
in which his soul delighted, calling up his old associations
with the Dolomites. He stopped at Trent and meditated
on the famous council. At Brixlegg, a little village near
Innsbruck, he was present at the performance of the Passion
jet. 47] ENGLAND 433
Play, which he had once failed to see in its more elaborate
form at Ober-Ammergau. Then he felt that he was setting
his face homeward, as he travelled rapidly from Munich to
Paris, and from Paris to London, whence he sailed for
America, on September 12.
Out of the many letters written while in London and on
the Continent, a few are given that call for no comment.
To the Rev. F. B. Allen he writes :
London, May 23, 1S83.
I saw the new archbishop the other day; his whole way is
excessively ecclesiastical. The new Dean of Westminster is a
dear little fellow, as gentle and modest and refined as possible,
just such a successor as Stanley would have loved. Farrar keeps
on preaching, drawing tremendous crowds, working tremendously
at his books and in his parish; and Stopford Brooke is declar-
ing in a hearty way that Broad Church is dead and that free
thought in the establishment is an impossibility, is talking of
giving up preaching and taking to writing a history of English
literature, which he would do finely. Meanwhile all the choir
boys in England have chanted the Athanasian creed for the last
two Sundays, and hundreds of clerical consciences have been torn
to pieces. I have engaged passage for home in the Cephalonia,
which leaves Liverpool on the 12th of September. Will you
be ready for the 23d ; but give it to me if I get in in time ?
Thanks for the story of the Club, at Gray's. It must have been
good.
June 8, 1883.
And Harvard has refused its LL. D. to Butler! That, too,
is very good. I understand all the reasons which made some of
the best men on the Board of Overseers vote the other way, but
I am quite convinced that this action is, on the whole, best for
the dignity of the University and for the moral standard of the
community.
London is very pleasant. I have been trying my hand at
preaching again a little, and rather like it. Last Sunday, which
was Hospital Sunday, I preached at St. Paul's, which is a hor-
rible great place to preach in. To-morrow I am going down to
Wells, the loveliest of cathedral towns, to spend the Sunday with
Plumptre, and to preach for him in the cathedral there. The
next Sunday, the 24th, I preach in the Lincoln Cathedral, and
the first Sunday of July, at the Temple Church in London.
vol. n
434 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
The Clericus Club had proposed to give him a dinner to
welcome him when he returned, and the Rev. F. B. Allen
had conveyed to him their wish to honor him. To this pro-
posal he replied :
London, July 3, 1883.
My dear Allen, I am touched and delighted by the wish
of the Club to greet me on my return. There could be no wel-
come that I should value more. The evening of September 24
shall be sacred to them. I would quite as lief meet the fellows
in your study for a talk and smoke as to sit with them at the
gorgeous banquetting board at Young's. If they will let me do
the former, I should like it quite as well as the latter; but, how-
ever I meet them, it will be one of the gladdest and proudest
moments of my life. If they are willing, do let it be after the
simpler fashion. Paine is with me now, and you may be sure
we have no end of talk about home. It was a great delight to
see him. He is over head and ears in charities, and I look on
and listen. On Saturday I went with him to a two hours' com-
mittee meeting of the Marylebone Branch, and it was curious to
see how like the " cases " were to those which we know so well at
home. He is off now to some disreputable place, and will have
a cheerful tale of misery and vice to tell when he gets back. We
shall stay here until about the 20th, and then be off for some-
where on the Continent. I have been spending an hour in Con-
vocation, where that very troublesome creature, the Deceased
Wife's Sister, was vexing the souls of deans and archdeacons.
The debates in the House of Lords about her have been very
curious. For the present she is rejected, and we must not marry
her. But, in the end, she will get her rights. I thank you for
your full accounts about the Club. Here I have been chosen an
honorary member of the "F. D. M. Club," which is made up of
the old friends and new disciples of Maurice, and on the 17 th
I shall attend their meeting. It will seem a little like a first
Monday evening of the month. . . .
London, June 13, 1883.
Dear Cooper, Think of my having two letters from you to
answer ! Something is going to happen. As to the first letter
about Heber and his heresies, I do not think we need to worry.
It will come out all right. If he is wrong, no doubt the world
will find it out ; and if he is right, as in large part I think he is,
there cannot be any harm in his saying it out loud. Now don't
be mad with your old friend, and say that I am just as bad as
Heber is, and swear that the lips that say such things shall not
jet. 47] ENGLAND 435
smoke your evangelical pipes next October. That would make
me very wretched, for, in the midst of all the pleasant things
which I am doing here, I am always counting on those days in
Philadelphia, and it is your study more than the halls of the
convention that my anxious soul is dwelling on. So, if I cannot
come without cursing Heber, I will put my convictions in my
pocket and curse him at a venture.
He speaks of the difference between the English and the
American clergy in a letter to Rev. James P. Franks :
London, July 15, 1883.
Dear James, It has been interesting to compare the Eng-
lish clergymen with the same class of humanity at home. On
the whole, I think that they have finer specimens at the top of
their profession than we generally have to show; but the rank
and file are better with us.
. . . This morning I preached for Llewelyn Davies in the
ugliest great barn of a church in London, and after church I
went home to his house to luncheon, and met the Bishop of Man-
chester and the Philochristus man, Dr. E. A. Abbott, and it was
very bright and interesting.
Next Tuesday I am going to a meeting of the F. D. M. Club,
of which I am an honorary member. It is a Maurice Club, as
you see by the initials, and has all his old disciples in it, along
with a lot of young men who have got his spirit. It is more like
the Club (Clericus) than anything else which I have seen in Lon-
don. But, on the whole, one does not hear very good things
about the present prospects of liberal theology in England. It
has not strong young men ; no Parks or Percy or A. V. G. Allen,
a sort of timid, hard ecclesiasticism, making much of services.
To the Rev. Arthur Brooks he writes this letter, giving
his impressions of the Church of England :
Bagneres de Luchon, July 29, 1883.
Dear Arthur, What a delightful, good fellow you have
been to write me three such capital letters, full of the very things
I wanted most to hear. The last one was about Commencements.
I am much interested in what you say about the Philadelphia
School. Now is certainly the time to regenerate it. If one
could only think of the right men for professors, and had the
power to put them there. Certainly, such a man as Peters ought
not to be left out on any account, and with all his scholarliness
436 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
he seemed to me to be almost oversound. Surely there need be
no misgiving about his orthodoxy. I cannot think of the right
man for Dr. Butler's successor. But you must find him some-
where among the younger men. There must be no old man put
into the place. I should like it, of course, as you suggest, but
I am too old. He must not be over forty. I am glad you are
a Trustee. I wonder if I am, too. I used to be. If I am,
we will put our heads together and get up a conspiracy, why
not? Cambridge is pretty well off. At least it is on the right
tack. And it has Allen. I am so glad that he is to be the next
Bohlen Lecturer. I wonder how ever made up his mind
to that. In London the other day, at Llewelyn Davies's, he
showed me Allen's essay on The Renaissance of Theology, and
said how fine he thought it, and asked me all about the man who
wrote it. I was surprised to hear how dolefully he and other
men talked about the prospects of liberal theology in the Church
of England. Davies and Abbott (E. A.) and the Bishop of
Manchester, who were there that day, declared the whole Mauri-
tian and broad church movement a failure ; Farrar said the same
thing in his cheery, doleful way; Plumptre, also, and ,
of whom, perhaps, it might have been expected, and who is the
same absurd, inconsequential creature that he was. The older
men of it seemed to be clinging to a remote history back in the
days of Frederick Maurice, and the younger men to belong to
that school of secularized clergy, which I know you dread as
much as I do, and to be clutching at anything, art, music,
ecclesiasticism, sociology, anything to get a power over people
which they earnestly wanted, but seemed to see no power in reli-
gion to attain. I went to a meeting of the F. D. M. Club, of
which I was made an honorary member. It was presided over
by Mr. Ludlow, and we had Hughes and Davies and Maurice's
son for fellow members, but the whole effect was not inspiring.
The debate was about how Maurice would have regarded the
modern socialism of Henry George and others, and how they, as
Mauritians, ought to stand towards it. Maurice seemed to be a
name to conjure with more than an influence upon their thought.
Of course, there were many good things said, especially by
Davies, whom I thought one of the best and most interesting
men that I saw in England.
There are three things, I think, that hamper the mental activ-
ity and free thought of the working English clergy. One is the
Establishment. No doubt, with the best men, as in Stanley's
case, the Establishment seems to be the safeguard of liberality
and an inspiration for tolerance, but with ordinary men, I am
iET. 47] ENGLAND 437
convinced that it is simply a weight of responsibility, and makes
them fear anything except most loyal adhesion to what they call
Church of England views. The second thing is the immense
overwork of the clergy in externalities, especially in the care of
schools, which is an enormous tax on time and absorption of
thought. And the third thing is the Athanasian Creed. That
Creed, explain it as they will, has in it the very spirit of a set-
tled, nnprogressive, and exclusive theology. It was made in the
interest of that spirit, and the need of considering it a "bulwark
of orthodoxy " crowds hard on men all the while. Of course
there are men, such as those in university or cathedral positions,
who are more or less free from the influence of one or more of
these causes, and so will always think or write freely ; but the
character of a church will always be determined by that of its
working clergy, and so it is not very strange that a settled trust
in ecclesiastical machinery, and sacraments, and sacred duties
on the one hand, and a splendidly devoted but unthinking and
superficial spirit of "work" upon the other, are becoming more
and more the temper of the English Church. At least, this is
what the broadest men say is the case, and what one's own little
personal observation seems to confirm. You will get more live
talk about first principles in either our Boston or your New York
club in an hour than from any gathering of London clergy in a
year. You could hardly get them to talk about anything but the
Deceased Wife's Sister, who was convulsing England during most
of my visit. Just think of its being the boast of the Church that
all the bishops in the House voted together about her, and that,
in Convocation, only two men (Vaughan and Farrar) took any
other ground, about their artificial arguments. Could anything
show more clearly that there is such a thing as an Episcopal and
clerical conscience and judgment, professional and special? and
could anything be worse for a nation and a church than that ?
Of course, you will see that I think our "P. E. Church" has all
the good things and none of the bad ones which belong to the
Church of England, and so I hope the best and brightest things
for the future of liberal theology in Her!
But instead of writing you a letter, I have written you an
essay, and I haven't told you anything about the pleasant places
that I went to and the pleasant people that I saw in England,
nor about how Bob Paine joined me, and we came over into the
Pyrenees, nor about how beautiful these valleys are, and how
curious and suggestive our visit to Lourdes and its grotto was.
Nor about how I slipped in getting out of a car and hit my shin,
and it 's all swelled up, and I am lying on a sofa with a cataplasm
438 PHILLIPS BROOKS [1883
on, which will account for the awkward chirography. But I '11
tell you about all these things when I come home, as I think I
shall do this autumn, now that Ben Butler is not a Harvard
Doctor of Laws, and Heber Newton is not to be tried. Give
Dr. Tiffany my cordialest congratulations. P.
While he was at Geneva he was invited to preach at the
American Church. "I should have done so," he wri
