Life of Edwin H. Chapin, D.D

FROM THE LIBRARY OF
REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D.

BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO

THE LIBRARY OF

PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY

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EDWIN H. CHAPIN, D.D.

BY

SUMNER ELLIS, D.D.

"His words seemed oracles
That pierced their bosoms ; and each man would turn
And gaze in wonder on his neighbor's face,
That with like dumb wonder answered him.

You could have heard
The beating of your pulses while he spoke."

amitfj portraits anJ JUlustratwins.

BOSTON:

UNIVERSALIST PUBLISHING HOUSE.

1882.

Copyright, 1882,
By Universalist Publishing House.

University Press:
John Wilson and Son, CAMimiDCE.

PREFACE.

Dk. Chapin having left no record of his life, not
even letters or notices of the press, and there bemg
scarcely a reference to himself m his published works,
the materials for this volume had to be gathered very
largely from original sources, and the labor has been
much greater than was expected when it was under-
taken. A large reliance for facts was naturally placed
upon Mrs. Chapin ; but, while on the way to obtain
these, the news of her sudden death was received. It
is believed, however, that the leading facts in the life
of this truly great man and almost peerless orator will
be found in the following pages ; and the author de-
sires to return thanks to the many friends who have
kindly aided him in his work.

S. E.

Cambridge, Mass.,

Sept. 1, 1882.

OOISTTE^TS.

?AGE

I. Ancestry 7

11. Boyhood ■ . , . 16

III. Schooldays 25

IV. Life at Tkoy 39

V. Life at Utica 46

VI. Settlement in Richmond 64

VII. Ministry in Chablestown 79

VIII. Ministry in Boston 107

IX. Ministry in New York 115

X. Pigeon Cove 158

XI. The Funeral 173

XII. The Triumphs of Eloquence 189

XIII. Oratorical Resources 216

XIV. Sermons and Lectures 233

XV. His Universalism 254

XVI. The Chapin Home 269

XVII. An Odd-Fellow 274

XVIII. A Reformer 285

XIX. Wayside Humanities 292

XX. His Poetry 305

XXI. His Wit .' 320

XXII. His Library 326

Hist of JUlustrattons,

Portrait Frontispiece

Church at New York 115

Portrait 130

Cottage at Pigeon Cove 158

Fac-similes of Handwriting 233

LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIK

I.

ANCESTEY.

In the eighth generation of American Chapins stood
Edwin Hubbell Chapin, the subject of this biography.
Himself a " believer in ancestry and in the feeling it
kindles," and referring with pride to the tradition that
a " drop of the blood of the Black Douglas, the Scottish
Knight ' without fear and without reproach,' ran in his
veins," it will not be a misplaced act if we turn our
attention briefly to the generations which have preceded
him, from whom he derived his eminent gifts.

Near the middle of the seventeenth century Deacon
Samuel Chapin sailed from England and landed on our
shores, stopped for a time with " ye godly people of
Dorchester," and then moved, in 1642, to Springfield,
Massachusetts, at that time the most western outpost of
the New England colonists. "With more courage than
discretion, it may be, he dared the awakened hostility
of the Indians, — a hostility which made it fitly the
last office of the household, before retiring at night,
to examine the flint on the gun and offer a fervent
prayer for protection, — and wandered into the unpro-
tected wilderness.

8 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The heroic Deacon was a good Puritan. In him were
combined a sound judgment, a fervent piety, a tender
humanity, and a rare gift of enterprise ; and, with his
noted contemporaries, Pynchon and Holyoke, he did
much to give character and prosperity to the new set-
tlement. He was early appointed one of the magistrates
of the town, and not long after his appointment " his
commission was extended indefinitely." In the absence
of the minister of the pioneer church, or in the interim
between pastorates, he exercised his talent of exhor-
tation on the Lord's Day to the edification of the
people, and was declared to be " exceeding moving in
prayer." In November of 1665 it was voted in town-
meeting " to allow Deacon Wright, Deacon Chapin, Mr.
Holyoke, and Henry Burt £12 for their past services
in the Lord's work on the Sabbath, to be distributed by
the selectmen ; and that in future they would allow at
the rate of £ 50 a year, till such time as they should
have a settled minister."

To Deacon Samuel Chapin was born, in 1642, Japhet,
the eldest of his children. In Japhet reappeared the
manly traits of his father — a sterling integrity, an ar-
dent piety, a ready kindliness of heart, intrepid courage,
and a rare thrift in business ; but there came to him, as
there did not to his father, a call to put his courage to
the most practical test. Obeying the summons of an
imperilled people, who talked by day and dreamed by
night of the horrors of massacre, he took up arms
against the invading Indians. On the fly-leaf of an old
account-book he informs us, in an interesting bit of
autobiography, that he took part in the great fight at
Turner's Falls. " I went out volanteare against mgeus

ANCESTRY.

the 17th of May, 1676, and we ingaged batel the 19th of
May in the moaning before sunrise, and made great Spoil
upon the enemy, and came off the same day with the
Los of 37 men and Captin Turner; and came home the
20th of May." But in spite of his brave fighting thus
for the safety of his family, his beloved daughter Han-
nah, three months after her marriage, w^as taken captive
and borne into Canada. Holding firmly to the Puritan
faith, striving with the hardships of a new settlement,
steadily facing the terror begotten by the grim children
of the forest, it is not to be wondered at that a visible
shadow rested over his hardy spirit. Of his father's
death he pathetically recorded that " he was taken out
of this troublesome world." In the path along which
his own feet walked, he " saw more of thorns than of
flowers." But when he finally fell asleep, "Rev. Mr.
Williams, of Deerfield, wrote a lengthy letter to his
children, instructing them concerning the improvements
they should make of his death, and speaking of him as
having been a man of great piety."

To Japhet was born Thomas ; and to Thomas, Thomas
junior; and to Thomas junior, Elijah; and to Elijah,
Perez, who was the grandfather of Edwin Hubbell.
Through these generations the stream of life flowed in
a manner characteristic of its source. Perez was a
doctor of excellent skill ; and very nearly on the hun-
dredth anniversary of the engagement with the Indians
at Turner's Falls, in which Japhet did valiant service,
he was found in the thick of the battle at Bunker Hill,
plying his surgical art for the comfort and security of
the wounded. A graduate of Middlebury College, Ver-
mont, he spent many years in practice, and died at
Benson in that State.

10 LIFE OF EDWIN II. CHAPIN.

To Perez was born Alpheus, the father of Edwin. In
him the ideal Puritan appears somewhat modified. If
the shadow of the past fell on him from behind, the
cheery light of a new era shone m his face. He came
upon the stage just at the time when the stern dignity
of the earlier day was passing into the mellower and
sw^eeter ripeness of the modern life ; and in him we find
an early fruit of the approaching harvest. He was a
man eminent for wit and social graces, an excellent
musician, with a special love of the anti-Puritan fiddle,
an admirer and a student of the beautiful, and by pro-
fession an artist — a painter of ideal scenes for his per-
sonal delight, and of portraits for his daily bread. These
are indeed new features in the Chapin portrait, but the
old traits are by no means wanting. Into him an
Apollo seems to have descended to keep company with
the God of his fathers ; and we mark those sharp con-
trasts of sentiment and expression, of gravity and mirth,
of prose and poetry, of prayer and story, which were
still more marked in his eminent son. In the parlor
of a friend he was a fascinating guest, a conversationist
of rare merits, happily seasoning good sense with pleas-
antry, and stimulating free expression in others by a
genuine modesty in himself. So captivating were his
gifts that, in the space of two or three weeks from their
first meeting, he had won the heart of Miss Beulah
Hubbell, one of the fair and talented young ladies of
Bennington, Vermont, consummated the period of court-
ship, married her, and carried her away from the town,
to be his companion and inspirer as he rambled from
place to place in the pursuit of his art. " I never saw
such company as grandpa was," says one of his grand-

ANCESTRY. U

daughters ; " he played the violin to please us, told us
funny stories, extemporized enchanting romances with
his ready imagination, and made himself one of us. It
was such a delight to go and see him ! " To have sat
by his easel for a portrait, while he spun his rare tissues
of sense knd nonsense, must have been an entertain-
ment, and set the face into the best aspect for being
transferred to canvas.

AVhatever he did was done ardently. With a com-
mon enthusiasm he entered into a debate or told a story,
painted a picture or worshipped his Maker, and at all
times and in all places he was a magnetic presence.
His portraits, many of which are still preserved and
cherished, are hasty sketches, strong m likeness but
deficient in finish. It was a theory with him, born no
doubt of his temperament, that too much attention to
detail, by the artist, not only imperils the truthfulness
of a likeness, but weakens its effect on the beholder.
To finish he would not sacrifice force ; and his portraits,
strong but rough, indicate plainly that his hand was
withdrawn too soon from the process of his art. On
one occasion, while painting the picture of a weary and
worn-out soldier of the American Eevolution, the old
hero, roused under the memories of the hour, erected
himself into the attitude of a field-marshal, and ex-
claimed, "Put in some of the fire of '76 !" We need
not doubt the artist's success in answering the order.
His ideal scenes are more carefully and fondly worked
up, and two or three of his Madonnas are at least indi-
cative of a latent patience in his hasty hand. His most
ambitious pieces are " Christ Eaising Lazarus," which
brings in a group of over forty figures on a canvas of

12 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

vast proportions, and " Christ Healing the Sick," which
was put on exhibition in Boston at a ninepence for each
admission. On the whole, it is evident that Mr. Gha-
pin's genius as an artist was greatly superior to his
culture.

In the course of time he fell under the fervid minis-
try of the elder Beecher, and his devotions at once
assumed an unaccustomed heat and zeal. The soul of
Deacon Samuel Chapin, of the colonial church, seemed
to reappear in his distant son. Having laid by his
brush and passed into the filial charge of his son, who
was already rising in fame, the old man now found no
check on the open and to him inviting path to the altar.
He became a familiar presence in the evangelical prayer-
meetings of Boston. The ardor of a revival matched
well his aroused spirit, and in prayer and song his voice
was raised to a fervent key. At all hours of the day
and the night he sought the shrine of worship. " When
he should have been in bed, he was often on his knees
in prayer," is the testimony of his widow, the second
wife, who still survives him. The cheerfulness, so con-
spicuous in his earlier days, seemed to disappear from
many of his later hours. Feeling deeply by contrast
the infirmities of age, incapable of toil yet dependent,
and sharing a piety not so hopeful as that of the Church
of to-day, he fell into frequent sombre moods ; and on
the fourth day of March, 1870, at his home in Boston,
he exchanged his earthly for his heavenly estate. In
the last hour he was solaced by the sympathy of his
devoted wife, and the affection and prayers of his bril-
liant son and benefactor. From the Central Church, of
which he had been for several years a member, his body
was carried to its final rest.

ANCESTRY. 13

In the Chapin family, thus briefly noticed, the senti-
ment of religion was a marived trait ; and as early as
the year 1862 there had arisen among the offspring of
Deacon Samuel Chapin not less than twenty-five clergy-
men bearing the family name, and as many more, no
doubt, who bore the names taken by the daughters of
the successive generations. Piety and eloquence were
characteristic of the race; and it would not be easy
to estimate the harvest of faith and virtue which has
been reaped in our land, during two hundred and more
years, from seed sown and cultivated by the hands of
this group of toilers in the Master's Vineyard.

In the direct line of descent from Samuel to Edwin
Hubbell Chapin the flesh appears to have been an ade-
quate vehicle of the spirit. In tlie respective ages of
the eight generations the stamina of the stock is well
indicated. The number of the years of Samuel is not
told in the "Chapin Genealogy," from which many
of the foregoing facts have been derived, but he lived
to a good old age. Not less than fourscore winters and
summers had he seen before he was summoned from
the earth. Japhet lived threescore and ten years.
Thomas filled the measure of fourscore and five years ;
and Thomas junior, by a single year, overstepped this
wide limit. The years of Elijah were eighty-seven ; of
Perez, eighty-six ; of Alpheus, eighty -two ; and of Ed-
win Hubl)ell, sixty-six. But while the latter failed
thus to follow the law of his family, and fill the mould
of tune for which he was evidently intended, there is no
doubt that in the higher estimate of life as a succession
of vital states — ideas, sentiments, achievements — he
surpassed them all, for his was a nature that bred

14 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

life with a signal rapidity and volume. He crowded
into the hours and days and years a marvellous wealth
of thought and feeling and activity. Like a wild
mountain stream the vital current fairly rushed and
roared as it passed through his being, and was the
sooner spent. Apart from the fact that he was im-
provident of his energies and careless of the laws of
health, it could hardly have been otherwise than that the
vast fires in the livmg engine, and the rush of the over-
heated machine, should tell on its durability. " To live
long it is necessary to live slowly," said Cicero ; but to
live slowly was not in the power of Dr. Chapin.

Not wholly an inheritance from the Chapms was the
ffenius of this remarkable man. To his mother, and the
generations of the Hubbells, he was indebted for some
of the strongest and finest traits of his life. The record
of the Hubbell family in America — reaching from Eich-
ard, who came here from England about the year 1650,
to the present time — is one which reflects on it great
honor. A numerous progeny, it has been as marked
for worth and achievements as for numbers. To the
" first of the name in America " a descendant has paid a
grateful tribute in verse, in which the family type is
made to appear.

" Thou, fiir across Atlanta's surging breast,
Mad'st liere tliy home, loved, honored, blest ;
Here reared brave hearts, concordant with thine own,
Taught them to hate a tyrant and despise a throne ;
A race with iron wills and iron laws.
Firm as the granite hills in Freedom's cause ;
Stern as the Koman who condemned his son ;
Unchanging as those laws cut deep in stone ;
With stalwart physique, rough, yet not uncouth,
Surcharged with love of God and Man and Truth."

ANCESTRY. 15

From their first liome in Connecticut, the HuLbells
have wandered abroad and made homes in most of the
States of the Union. The poet, whose words have just
been read, refers to Eichard Hubbell as the " sire of a
thousand sons." But wherever they have settled, mteg-
rity, industry, thrift, and honor have attended them to a
large degree. In all our wars they have been among
our bravest soldiers ; in the professions, they have risen
to eminence ; in positions of public trust, from humble
offices to membership in Congress, their skill and
worth have been placed at the service of the people.
From such a race E. H. Chapin drew some of the blood
that made him what he was in the vigor and strength
of his manhood.

II.

BOYHOOD.

Apart from a fond father and mother and the se-
chision of a fireside, a boy needs many things, and
especially these two, — a fixed habitation in city or
country (better the latter) to supply the sweet ro-
mances of memory to after-life, and a steady schooling
iinder the same teachers to give an early solidity and
system to the mind. As we look back from the distant
reaches and altitudes of our mortal journey, the scenes
made familiar to our early years are delicious enchant-
ments, of which no life should be deprived ; while the
timely discipline of our first schooldays strangely fash-
ions the plastic mind into the mould of order and prom-
ise. From the haunts amid which is seated the old
home, and from the old schoolhouse, whether in city
or country, there moves forth with us, on whatever
road we may travel, some of the best companionships
of life, — memories and guiding influences which every
one needs. Ikit in these important particulars the lad,
Edwin Chapin, was among the most unfortunate. Ex-
cept in the love and care of his parents he had no early
home.

A wandering artist, roving from hamlet to hamlet
and city to city in quest of faces to paint on his waiting

BOYHOOD. 17

squares of canvas, his father kept the little group on
the move. No Arabian tribe was ever more given to
shifting its encampments. It was a life of arrivals and
departures, w4th hotels and boarding-houses for tempo-
rary quarters. " For months together we did not know
where the Chapins were," writes a venerable relative of
the family ; " and when at length the mother and Edwin
would surprise us, as they often did, by returning to
the old home, the first inquiry would be : From what
city or town have you come ? "

As the environment of childhood, the scenery of his
early life does not make a pleasing picture. An impul-
sive and versatile boy, needing most of all repression
and drill, the aid of fixed conditions and regular habits,
he was kept in the constant whirl of events, hurried
from scene to scene, drawn into the distracting meshes
of diversity and novelty, until his gift of order and
patient application, never equal to his gift of sponta-
neity, had suffered serious damage. The habit of the
systematic student is largely an inheritance from a
very early discipline. " As the twig is bent the tree's
inclined ; " so is the grown mind in debt to its early
direction, and the aid of the primary school cannot
well be spared. But until his fifteenth or sixteenth
year Edwin Chapin knew little or nothing of method-
ical and scholarly mental action. Through following
the family tent, never pitched long in one place, his
tuition was necessarily intermittent and desultory. It
was under strange teachers and with unknown children,
in a round of cities and villages extending from Wash-
ington to the Canada line, that he found a seat in
the schoolroom, — and then only for a few weeks or

2

18 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

months at a time, according to the demand of the
special locality on his father's brush. In this method
of schooling the interims of absence were broader than
the periods of attendance ; and the remarkable boy,
who needed so much to have his wild and spontaneous
power brought mto subjection to the text-book and the
tutor, was daily passing into a brilliant disorder, a
romantic chaos of ideas and interests, a habitual va-
grancy of mind, which it would not be easy henceforth
to subdue. Even though seconded by the lessons his
mother fondly unposed on limi as they journeyed, such
intermittent tutorage but poorly foiled the effects of a
wandermg life, and an ardent spontaneity was becoming
the habit of the boy's study and thought.

At length, when Edwin was eleven or twelve years
old, the roving artist came to a halt in Boston, and over
the family was spread a home roof. In an uninviting
part of the city, at the head of Sudbury Street, near
Court Street, the Chapins took up their residence.
Two sisters, Ellen and Martha, had now been added to
the family circle, the former of whom is its only surviv-
ing representative. The gifted brother w^as now to be
seen, not making his daily morning run to a school-
house, but to a broker's office. As an errand boy he
entered into the service of Aaron Dana, on State Street,
then as now the haunt of the money-changers and spec-
ulators ; and here, though still a mere lad, he must have
gained some of the views and impressions of business
life, which in after years were flashed from his teeming
brain as he discoursed to eager throngs of the " Phases
of City Life," and of " Humanity in the City."

But into the dryest details this romantic boy could

BOYHOOD. 19

but infuse some fresli interest. If flowers had not been
planted in bis path, by the magic of his native genius
he could create them. In the midst of these dry scenes,
there was at least one fresh souL The lad burst into
poetry. Having swept the dingy Hoor, dusted the desks,
run here and there with papers and verbal messages,
gazed in wonder at the world around him, and given a
ready ear to every story and each better word which
was uttered, he still found time to make and recite
rhymes on the most various themes. His usual auditor
was the boy in the office overhead. Calling him to
the window to hsten, young Edwin, with upturned
face, would dehver from the sidewalk his hasty effu-
sion. In this juvenile diversion he doubtless reached
some higher pleasure than the charm of the mated
words at the ends of the lines, even the deeper stir of
a poetic instinct. Pressing his little poem by his native
eloquence into the heart of the boy upstairs, and then
throwing it into the waste-basket, we can well imagine
the zest with which he would seek another theme and
create another ephemeral rhyme.

With the boys of the West End, his rare and unsel-
fish gifts, his wit, his ardor, his honor, his power to
kindle them into a happy enthusiasm, made him a
favorite ; and, when thirteen or fourteen years old, they
elected him a member of their dramatic club, and at
once promoted him to the conspicuous rank of poet and
buffoon of the aspiring group. With an ambition char-
acteristic of boys, this club had taken to itself its name,
Siddoriian, from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons of Eng-
lish fame ; and it held its first meetings in a carpenter's
shop on Pine Street; but some trouble having arisen

20 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

witli their lessee, to whom they paid a mere pittance,
they decamped in the night time with their theatrical
effects, and moved into a hall in the Circular Build-
ing on Portland Street. For a couple of years, at
least, they were accustomed to meet in this place for
discipline and pleasure. Here they enacted tragedy
and comedy from Shakespeare's "Julius Coesar" to
Sheridan's " School for Scandal," with the accompani-
ments of song and recitation and feasting. As would
be natural with boys, the pastime phase of their club
life was made prominent. Begging or borrowing a few
dishes and cooking utensils, the juvenile histrions made
for themselves banquets ; and now and then they turned
themselves into a sort of gypsy camp, and marched out
to Brighton, to a spot known as the Cave, and pitched
their rude tent for the night, and cooked their supper
and breakfast. Amid these hilarious scenes young
Chapin found the keenest delight, and rose to an easy
ascendency through the exuberance of his wit and
mirth.

But in this Siddonian Company there was also a spirit
of ambition and toil in the direction of the histrionic art.
No idlers at their tasks were some of these boys, since
they were stagestruck in no ordinary degree ; and from
their sports they turned with a yet keener relish to the
performance of their parts on the stage. There was real
genius among them ; and genius passing into its own
sphere of action supplies the supreme delights of life.
From carnal feasting it turns to its ow^n greater feasts
of inspiration and achievement. Thus among these
Siddonians there were those who were feeling the
first raptures of their awakening dramatic gifts ; even

BOYHOOD. 21

with a wild delight that must have lingered in their
nightly dreams, they grew conscious of a power to
sway the friendly audiences that gathered from time
to time in their dingy hall ; and, as a result, the stage
became their first love, and the theatre the scene of
their lifelong toils and triumphs. In this little group
of aspirants we find the two comedians, Charles H.
Eaton and John P. Addams, who were for many years
favorites with the Boston playgoers ; and here stood in
conspicuous superiority the youthful E. L. Davenport,
who afterwards became famous in two hemispheres as
a delineator of tragedy, and who has left to the honor
of the stage and its higli art, not only a brilliant his-
tory, but his eminent daughter, Miss Fanny Davenport,
who, as a tragedienne, has risen to a high rank among
the daughters of America.

Between the two lads, Davenport and Chapin, a
friendship sprung up that the flying years only con-
firmed. In their lives was a kinship of genius that
awakened mutual esteem and love. For, however it
may have seemed to a superficial observer that young
Chapin was mainly a wit and born for comedy, to a
deeper insight, such as young Davenport must have
shared, there appeared in yet more conspicuous aspects
the serious side of his life, and his strong sympathy
with human greatness in its struggles and sorrows and
triumphs. Under his wild exuberance were the throb-
bings of a solemn heart. His noisy pleasantries were
only like an ornamented gate opening to the inner
majesty of an imposing temple, in which pious Glorias
or Misereres are rendered in fitting music. To this
juvenile stage he indeed brought a comic song and a

22 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

humorous recitation, and so triumphantly did he render
them that his comrades gave him stormy applause ;
and it was a very natural illusion, with these sport-
loving youth, that their rollicking companion was
chietly a lover of fun and a candidate with rare pros-
spects for comedy. But he also brought to the Siddo-
nians, and their assemblies, "Marco- Bozzaris," "Mark
Antony," "Philip Exciting the Chiefs to Eise and
Exterminate the English," and pieces of kindred
sentiment ; and it was in these declamations that the
more thoughtful and the riper in years saw and felt
the most characteristic power in this lad's earlier and
later life. Ever was his Mirth but the attendant on his
Gravity. There being thus a common instinct and a
responsive chord between the two boys, Davenport
and Cliapin, we need not wonder that the former,
about to attempt the role of "William Tell," should
call the latter to be his first support in enacting
the great tragedy ; and we might well envy those who
were privileged to see the two aspiring performers
bearing their high parts.

From the first coming together of these two gifted
souls, we may turn to survey for a moment their last
meeting face to face. Eesting in his coffin, and fol-
lowed in solemn procession by the brightest minds of
New York City, the great tragedian w\as brought and
laid before the pulpit made famous by the great
preacher. Over the worn cushion and the open Bible
bent the Eeverend Doctor, himself feeble and fading, to
take a last look at the noble face of his old comrade.
With equal delicacy and depth of emotion he said, "I
have known the deceased actor well, particularly in the

BOYHOOD. 23

younger years of my life, and I always knew him to be*
worthy of love and esteem."

Apart from the instruction of his home, it was with-
out doubt m that humble Siddonian Society that
Edwin Chapin found the best school of his early life.
It was there his genius w\as first kindled to a fervid
flame, and he felt himself in possession of a great gift
of eloquence. There the secret of his life seemed to
burst upon his vision, and to the high art of swaying
the public he consecrated himself. He chose the stage
as his first love, and it rose before him as the lure of
the coming years.

It was not without pride that his parents now looked
upon their son, in whom a rare gift was thus making
itself apparent. They w^ere not insensible to the magic
of his declamation and the lightning rapidity of his
mental processes. But their pride was attended with
anxiety and even alarm. Of Puritan training and pious
predilections, they could but shrink w4th horror from
the thought that their only and dearly loved son, for
whom they had so often prayed, should take to the
stage and give his life to the theatre. But so strongly
rested the histrionic spell and purpose on him that their
reproofs and persuasions seemed in vain ; and it is a cur-
rent rumor among the relatives of the family that he
once ran away with a theatrical troop and actually ap-
peared in the more serious business of the public drama.
However this may be, it is certain his mother said " I
came near losmg my boy," and that his father sent him
to the academy at Bennington, Vermont, to keep him
from the stage in Boston.

When his little trunk was finally packed for the

24 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

•journey, his mother took from it sundry well-worn
plays and declamations he had concealed in it, and in
their place she deposited a copy of the Bible as her part-
ing gift. Her cup of joy would have been full could
she have foreseen how prophetic was this act of trans-
fer !

III.

SCHOOLDAYS.

Pleasant for situation among the Green Mountains
is Bennington, of Eevolutionary and patriotic fame.
Nestling close into the elbow of the enfolding arm
of the mountain, it seems to be shielded from the
northern and eastern blasts by barriers as friendly as
they are imposing ; while it lies exposed on the south
and west to the open sky, and all the charms of the
mid-day and the setting sun. Well might an artist or
poet covet the scene to awaken his best sensibilities ;
for here blend, in a rare companionship, grandeur and
beauty, forest and lawn, storm and peace, and mountain
streams dashing into foaming cataracts or resting m
lucid pools. Here every lofty or lowly mood of the
heart may find sympathy and inspiration, as Ulysses
found them in " craggy Ithaca," or Wordsworth in the
beautiful Westmoreland scenery.

One of the prettiest of the New England villages is
the Bennington of to-day, befitting its surroundings as
a jewel does its fine setting. Its twenty-five hundred
citizens are noted for honor, refinement, and thrift.
Along its tidy streets, inviting resident and stranger to
a walk or drive, are seen neat cottages and stately man-
sions, with a creditable array of churches and schools,
stores and factories.

26 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

It was to this village, thus favored with a rare natural
scenery, that Edwin Cliapin, when fourteen or fifteen
years old, was sent to attend school. It was hoped hy
his parents that he would here both forget and acquire,
— forget, if it were possible, the old lessons and loves
he had brought from the Siddonian stage, and acquire
the new lessons of the text-books, and a promising bias
for life.

Small as the village then was, much smaller than
now, it nevertheless contained two rival academies.
They were named the Old Line and the Pioneer.
It was in the Pioneer that young Edwin's lot was
cast. This choice between the institutions was, no
doubt, determined by the fact that the headmaster of
the latter, James Ballard, was in some way connected
with the Hubbells, the relatives of Edwin's mother,
who were both numerous and influential in the place.

But the choice could not have been more fortunate.
Mr. Ballard was born to impress and inspire. In him
were the blended traits of a Luther and a JNIelancthon, —
the bold and energetic, and the gentle and tender ; and
there can be little doubt that young Chapin, and others
who have risen to fame in our land, were under oblicja-
tion to him for much of the noblest incitement and am-
bition of their early life. Indeed, it is probable they
ever after felt the impulse he imparted to them, even as
the flying arrow to the end of its flight feels the im-
pulse of the hand that bends the bow. As a past
age lives in the present, and a Plato or a Paul starts a
wave of philosophy or love that flows along the entire
stream of time, so a teacher, if he be an original and
noble soul, becomes an abiding power in the life of his

SCHOOLDAYS. 27

pupils. A Thomas Arnold, of Rugby, became a part
of the identity of a Thomas Hughes or a Dean Stanley.
In a less famous way a Dr. Hosea Ballou mingled his
life inextricably with the genius of a Starr King, and
lent a tone to that enchanting voice which, by a suffi-
ciently delicate ear, might have been detected in his
latest sermons in his California pulpit, or in his final
recital of the Twenty-third Psalm on his deathbed.
And such a teacher was James Ballard.

His dominant traits were moral courage and an in-
vmcible will, and hence his energies rose with the dif-
ficulties of his task. While yet a student in Williams
College, from which he honorably graduated, he was
sought as master of those district schools in the vicinity
wdiich were the most turbulent. We are permitted to
look at him in the midst of one of these scenes. " It
was in Heath," wrote Dr. Holland, the lamented editor
of " Scribner's Monthly," "that I was a pupil of Mr.
Ballard, when he came to a district school to fill out a
winter, broken by the turning of three masters out of
school by unmanageable boys. It was one of the old
time performances of which we do not hear much in
these days. I remember his entrance upon his duties
as if it were but yesterday. I remember the words he
uttered. I could swear to them at this moment, though
he spoke them fifty-three years ago : ' I come here to
govern, and not to be governed, and if you do not obey
me I will flog you, if you are as big as Goliath. ' He
was as good as his word, and he kept the school through ;
and his memory is embalmed, I do not doubt, in the
heart of every boy of that school now living. In my
young imagination he was a hero of largest mould. "

28 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

One of his assistants at tlie Bennington Seminary
was Margaret Woods, daughter of the celebrated Ando-
ver theological professor, and now the venerable Mrs.
Lawrence, living at " Linden Home, " Marblehead ; but
who will be best known to the readers of these pages as
" Meta Landor," whose poetry and prose for years graced
the periodical literature of New England. Looking
back across a half century to the young master of
the Pioneer, she pays him this compliment : " He
was a wonderful combination of energy and gentleness,
I believe he feared absolutely nothing but wrong.
There was not the least pretence or claptrap about him,
but a straightforward, resolute, persistent carrying out
of his purposes. I don't think he knew the meaning of
cannot but he certainly did of 'loill not."

As the Norse heroes were thought to meet happily
together in their Valhalla, or as the Sir Knights of
King Arthur, Lionel and Bedivere, Lancelot and Tris-
tram, met at the Eound Table, or as hero ever meets
hero in glad recognition of their mutual pluck and
power, so met William Lloyd Garrison and this young
Bennington master ; and ever after w^ere these intrepid
souls fast friends. In common they shared a deep
hatred of slavery and the full courage of their convic-
tions.

Early withdrawing his great energies from teaching,
and preparing for the ministry, Mr. Ballard spent most
of his subsequent years in Grand Rapids, IMichigan, in
which city and state he was one of the leaders of the
Congregational churches. In that rising city of the
West, January 7, 1881, twelve days after the death in
New York of his eminent pupil, Dr. Chapin, he peace-

SCHOOLDAYS, 29

fully closed his eyes in their final sleep, his soul as full

of courage on the verge of death as in the midst of life.

From Wordsworth has been borrowed this fitting tribute

to his character : —

" But thou, though capable of eternal deed,
"Weit kind as resolute, and good as brave."

In the fact that Mr. Ballard must be regarded as
Edwin Chapin's only teacher in the technical sense, is
found a justification of this extended sketch. Other
teachers he had for brief seasons, but this one alone was
permanent enough and powerful enough in this relation
to mould and impel and inspire him in the way of
study and aim. And every reader of this biography
will rejoice that the brilliant youth, whose education
had hitherto been so desultory and without promise, at
length met a worthy teacher in whose strong and skilful
hands,. as clay in the hands of a potter, his plastic gifts
were to be manipulated during a period of three or four
years. Decisive years, indeed ! As when a drifting
ship on the broad sea is arrested and given to a pilot,
and turned to a safe port, so w^as it wdien young Chapin,
drifting no one knew whither on the wild sea of life,
w\as taken in hand by this ruling spirit of the Pio-
neer. Through his teacher he found his destiny dawn-
ing upon him; or rather we, who look on the scene
from afar, observe it was thus.

Of eloquence Mr. Ballard was an ardent lover, and
the more impassioned it was the better it pleased him.
It was no gentle breeze, but a whirlwind of oratory that
he admired and sought in his models and his pupils.
" He had a passion for elocution, " says Eev. Thomas
"Wright, one of his early students ; " and if hi his own

30 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

case this passion often led him to overcharge with the
powder of emphasis, there was not lacking the hot shot
of earnest thought to be propelled by it. " The fiery
Demosthenes was his ideal. In the great Irish orators,
kindling to a stormy enthusiasm as they advanced in
their orations, he found favorite examples to commend ;
and with equal pride he pointed to Patrick Henry and
Henry Clay as American models for imitation. Before
grace he placed energy as an oratorical accomplishment,
and trusted less to thought than inspiration. Hence
Edwin Chapin at once arrested his attention and won
his pride and love, as a youth in whom the flame of
eloquence kindled to a rare heat and glow ; and he at
once set about training him for declamation. And the
boy took to the discipline as a lark to its song, or a
duck to the water.

AYith an immense effect did he render the stirring
selections his master made for him ; and it was soon
noised about the village that on Wednesday afternoons
at the Seminary might be heard an eloquence that
should not be missed. More and more the people
came to sit under the pleasing spell. In the season of
the year that would permit it, the little hall was for-
saken and the yard outside was sought to afford ampler
accommodation. Mr. Wright, from whom a word has
already been quoted, says : " The speaking exercises of
Wednesday afternoon were the great attraction of the
week, the interest culminating when young Chapin ap-
peared on the stage in Coleridge's 'Sailor's Eeturn,' or
Byron's ' Isles of Greece.' " Even the students of
the Old Line, the rival seminary, were drawn to hear
the young orator of the Pioneer. " I once went over

SCHOOLDAYS. 31

to Mr. Ballard's academy," writes the Eev. J. A.Wright,
" to hear Chapin declaim. The speaking was out under
the trees. I shall never forget the declamation. It
was the only thmg of the kind that ever impressed me,
but it captured my imagination and in fact melted
my bones. The title of his piece I cannot recall, but it
was a bit of blank verse, made of a scene in the Eevela-
tion. Chapter VI. I think most of his school exercises
were of a religious character. His poetical pieces were
commonly on Bible themes." Upon the students of both
seminaries he made a profound impression ; and one of
the number writes that "the attempts of the other boys
to imitate him were curious and sometmies ludicrous."
In vain does the sparrow seek to be the nightmgale, or
the lynx aspire to mimic the roar of the lion.

There is little doubt that the " bit of blank verse"
above referred to, was written by him who delivered it ;
and that the visitor from the Old Line was overpowered
by the thought as well as voice of the young orator ;
for Edwin Chapin was also the poet of the Pioneer.
One who had written ephemeral stanzas, to deliver from
a Boston sidewalk to a boy auditor in the second story
of a broker's shop, was now composing more ambitious
and enduring lines. In comic or serious humor the
muse came often to his rapt soul, and he was pleased
with her company. As there is a special affinity be-
tween love and poetry, it is more than probable, if tra-
dition be true, that his poetic gift was now inspired
by the tender sentiment. As the poetic harp of a
Dante was swept by the fingers of a Beatrice, so some
gentle hand may have touched the strings of this
youthful soul and drawn from it an unwonted music.

32 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

He surely wrote under the heat of a true inspiration,
and a number of his academy poems are still preserved
and cherished. But as the discussion of his merits and
demerits as a poet is reserved for a special chapter, the
reader can only be gratified at this point with limited
citations, with the hope that these will take a truer
emphasis from standing in connection with the period
of his life in which they were written.

In a poem of this date, on the " Attributes of God,"
he begins each stanza by a repetition of the attribute
it is to celebrate. He thus seeks to exalt it. It is like
the " holy, holy, holy ! " in the Bible ascription, and
reveals a sincere reverence. Three stanzas from the
middle of the poem must suffice as a type of the whole
composition.

" Almighty, Almighty, 0 Lord, — who could stand
At the blast of Thy breath, or the weight of Thy hand ?
Sahits, angels, archangels, before Thee bow down.
And rejoice in Thy favor, but quail at Thy frown.

Omniscient, Omniscient, — our hearts Thou can'st see ;
Our actions, our thoughts, are all open to Thee ;
Thou knowest each folly, each passion, each fault,
The proud Thou wilt humble, the humble exalt.

All-Present, All-Present, — although we may flee
To the darkness of hell or the depth of the sea,
To the caves of the earth or the realms of the air,
To the desert or mountains, 0 God, Thou art there ! "

The "Burial at Sea" is another of his schoolday
poems, and one wdiose simple pathos has touched many
hearts. Over it mother and maiden have often wept,
and stronger hearts have been moved by its affecting
narrative. When it finally appeared in the " Southern

SCHOOLDAYS. 33

Literary Messenger," it was copied by many of the
periodicals of the day, one of these calling it a "great
poem in small words."

" Bury mo not in the deep, deep sea ! "
The words came faint and mournful'ly
From the pallid lips of a youth, who lay
On the cabin couch where, day hy day.
He had wasted and pined till o'er his brow
The deathshade had slowly passed ; and now.
When the land and his fond-loved home were nigh,
They had gathered around him to see him die.

*' Bury me not in the deep, deep sea,

AVhere the billowy shroud will roll over me,

"Where no light can break through the dark cold wave,

And no sunbeam rest sweetly upon my grave.

' It boots not,' I know I have oft been told,

' AVhere the body shall lie when the heart is cold,' —

Yet grant ye, oh, grant ye this boon to me,

Bury me not in the deep, deep sea !

" For in fancy I've listened to well-known words.

The free, wild wind, and the song of birds ;

I have thought of ho7ne, of cot and bower.

And of scenes that I loved in childhood's hour.

I have ever hoped to be laid, when I died, ♦

In the churchyard there on the green hillside ;

By the bones of my fothers viy grave should be, —

Bury me not in the deep, deep sea !

" Let my death slumber be where a mother's prayer
And sister's tears can be blended there.
Oh, 'twill be sweet, ere the heart's throb is o'er.
To know, when its fountain shall gush no more,
That those it so fondly has yearned for will come
To plant the first wildflower of Spring on my tomb.
Let me lie Avhere the loved ones can weep over me, —
Bury me not in the deep, deep sea.
3

34 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

" And there is another ; her tears would be shed

For him who lay far in an ocean- bed.

In hours that it pains nie to think of now,

She hath twined these locks and kissed this brow.

In the hair she has wreathed shall tlie sea-snake hiss ?

The brow she has pressed shall the. cold wave kiss ?

For the sake of that bright one who waits for me,

Bury me not in the deep, deep sea !

" She hath been in my dreams " — His voice failed there.
They gave no heed to his dying prayer.

They have lowered him slow o'er the vessel's side ;

Above him hath closed the solemn tide.

Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests.

Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests,

Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, —

They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea.

A singular theme for a young man yet in his teens
to treat in a young lady's album is — " The Grave."
Earely has a youth paused to reflect on this subject
enough to be stirred by it to those deep feelings that
seek to take form in poetry. The youthful heart
naturally turns away from the resting-place of man to
contemplate the arena of his activities, and is much
more likely to sing of war and fame, or to paint before
its reader a scene of romantic peace and joy amid the
vales of time. It shrinks from a gaze at the darkness
and decay of the tomb. But Edwin Chapin, the most
gleeful of youth, sat down and turned his own mind
and the mind of some gentle friend to the final home
of earth.

" The young and the noble, the brave and the fair,
In the cold silent tomb now are taking their rest ;
The shroud is wrapt round them, they calmly sleep there,
And the clods of the valley repose on each breast. "

SCHOOLDAYS. 35

In this serious poem of four stanzas, as also in that
on the "Attributes of God," is revealed the inmost soul
of Edwin Chapin. A pious gravity, a solemn rever-
ence, was ever his rulmg trait. But he was also a rare
lover of fun ; and of this love he made an honest con-
fession in the following lines by which, while at the
Academy, he dedicated a Miss Pierson's scrapbook.

" The world's a scrapbook ; and 't is filled

With things of strange alloy, —
"With scraps of pleasure, scraps of jiain,

And scraps of grief and joy.
But give me scraps with humor filled,

\Vith scraps of fun and glee, —
They'll drive away the scraps of pain,

And scraps of miserj'."

But our portrait of this academy boy has not yet
received all its colors. He was more than orator
and poet, and the inspirer of a profound admiration of
his rare gifts. Not always along these high and sol-
emn paths did he walk. He was also a wit and a
mimic, something of a ventriloquist, a singer of comic
songs, a felicitous story-teller, a provoker of laughter of
the loudest type. "He was facetious and funny,"
writes a relative, " but large-hearted, manly, and noble."
He was full of stage antics, — at one moment doing the
clown, and at the next falling into the most tragic atti-
tudes. What Macaulay wrote of Garrick is partly true
of the academic Chapin. " Garrick often exhibited all
his powers of mimicry for the amusement of the little
Burneys, — awed them by shuddering and crouching as
if he saw a ghost, scared them by raving like a maniac
in St. Luke's, and then at once became an auctioneer.

36 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

a chimney-sweeper, or an old woman, and made them
laugh till the tears ran down their cheeks." It was a
favorite trick of young Chapin to imitate the singer
who got a hundred dollars' for a song, — fifty for start-
ing it, and another fifty for stopping the unearthly
music. " His face was flexible as his voice," says Mrs.
Lawrence, from whom we have already quoted ; " I
have a distinct recollection of his grimaces, and of the
mirtli they provoked; and I remember thinking he
would probably find his career on the stage." A hu-
morous composition of his on "Tunothy Ticklepitcher "
is still remembered at Bennington. " He never studied,
but always had his lessons," is a tradition yet cur-
rent in the village. "Do you remember," said the
writer of these pages to an elderly lady of the place, a
relative of Chapin, "of any fix that this hilarious youth
got into while here ? " " None that he didn't instantly
get out of, " was her swift and proud reply. He was
never at a loss for a repartee. In the homes where he
boarded he had his own names for the children, and
the cats and dogs, and to every name he hitched im-
promptu rhymes. To form a jingle of words suited the
celerity of his mental action, while jDuns fell around
him like leaves from the trees in autumn.

Thus strong in shades and lights is the portrait of
this young student at the Pioneer. Eivals in their
claims to his heart were Gravity and Mirth. At these
two extremes of sensibility he stood conspicuous. A
priest could not have been more grave, nor a clown
more gay. But since mirth shows less reserve than
gravity, is less a grace for private hours, the mistake
was naturally made by his companions of reading his

SCHOOLDAYS. 37

future from the wrong page in the book of his life.
" The students at Bennington," writes Eev. Dr. Pierson
of Michigan, himself a student there, "generally pre-
dicted that Chapin would distinguish himself as an
actor or as a poet. I think none of us at that time
dreamed that his tastes would incline him to the pul-
pit." But they were deceived, as one looking at the
newly poured wine might think it all foam and sparkle.
For he who at that age of life was writing such poetry
as we have read from his pen, declaiming blank verse on
a scene in Eevelation, and who neglected not to seek
his closet daily in prayer and meditation, — as it was
known at his Bennington home that he did, — must have
been borne on by an undercurrent of piety that was
stronger than any other tide that swept through his
being ; and a pulpit was the real goal toward which he
was moving.

After four years in the academy, and in the home of
Deacon Aaron Hubbell, he entered the home and the
service of Henry Kellogg, lawyer and post-master at
Bennington. Mrs. Kellogg was a Hubbell, and shared
a family interest in the young man newly installed in
her household. Here he spent two years as a clerk in
the post-office. But literature was his lure, meanwhile,
and the seminary and the rooms of its students were
his favorite haunts. Again we quote from Dr. Pierson.
"After the labors of the day Chapin would come up to
the seminary and to our room, and I have a very vivid
recollection of his there reciting comic pieces greatly to
our amusement and that of our visitors. Sometimes he
would take part in the debating societies of the older
scholars in one of the schoolrooms. I recollect that on

38 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

one occasion tlie poetry of Byron was the subject of dis-
cussion. Chapin was present and, after listening to the
remarks of others, rose and spoke at length in such
strains of eloquence as completely overpowered the
audience and carried it with him."

It was during these two years that influences con-
spired to turn his attention to the law as the profession
he would follow. As he had been lured by the stage,
so now, but with a less powerful spell, the bar rose
to attract him. It was, no doubt, more the i^ressure of
circumstances than the impulse of his nature that deter-
mined this choice. By the fact that he was living with
a prosperous lawyer, and made daily conversant with
legal transj)irings, the law was made to seem to him the
nearest and most natural calling to which he could give
his mind and devote his years. And so, with a new
suit of clothes, and forty dollars in his pocket, with such
an education as he had been able to obtain in four
years, and with an honest and ardent heart, he left fair
Bennington by the mountains, of which he ever retained
tender recollections, and turned his face toward Troy,
New York.

IV.

LIFE AT TROY.

From Bennington to Troy by stage was a trip often
made, fifty and more years ago, by young men seeking
to begin tlieir career in the world. Over that pleasant
road have passed some of the notable men of the
country. And hither came Edwin H, Chapin in May
of 1836, with twenty years of life resting on his head
and heart, a new suit of clothes on his back, a few dol-
lars in his pocket, and a great hope leading him on.

But he only tarried here for a few months, as if some
fate were pushing him on to other scenes. Before May
of 1837 he had left Troy ; and he left it not as he came,
along a road cheered by the radiance of a flammg am-
bition, but by a path over which hung a cloud. On
his heart had broken an unlooked for storm, and, like
a shattered vessel, he went forth to seek a haven of
safety.

During his brief stay in Troy he had touched the
borders of the three great kingdoms — Law, Politics,
and Religion ; but this swiftness of vicissitude and stress
of experience seemed to be too much even for his ardent
and active temperament to bear. While in each of
these three provinces he stood conspicuous, in the last
he became an object of pity and solicitude.

40 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

On his arrival from Bennington he entered the law-
office of Huntington & Van Schoonhoven. Here he
took up the task of turning his forensic dream into a
reality, and daily wrestled with Blackstone and Kent
and legal forms. In an atmosphere void of all poetry,
save that which he brought to it or created in it, he sat
down to make himself master of the law and of the dr}^
details of the court. But he must have felt like a wild
bird brought from the free air of the mountains and
shut in a stilling cage ! It is the testimony of a fellow
law-student and friend, the Hon. Martin I. Townsend,
LL. D., ex-member of Congress, and still a resident of
Troy, not that young Chapin bent fondly over the legal
pages, but that " he was a cheerful, social young man,
much given to declaiming choice selections from the
classics and the dramatists." In his native domain of
fervid eloquence he seems to have made a deeper im-
pression on the tablets of memory, than at his new task
of reading law.

But, nevertheless. Mi. Townsend contends that "Cha-
pin would have been as conspicuous at the bar as he
was in the pulpit, had he been as faithful to its
demands. " While admitting his love of literature, for
he was ever discussing the merits of the famous books ;
acknowledging his passion for authorship, for he was
much given to writing for the "Troy Budget;" and
conceding his proneness to oratory, since he was ha-
bitually declaiming eloquent passages from the great
orators and poets, — still he saw in him, as he thought,
that subtle gift of logic and latent patience which lie
at the base of forensic success. If he had inherited a
talent from Demosthenes, so would Mr. Townsend claim
that he held an equal gift from Solon.

LIFE AT TROY. 41

But by another intimate friend this view of the case
was not entertained. For some reason Chapiu left the
office of Huntington & Van Schoonhoven, and entered
that of Judge Pierson. With the son of the latter, now
the Eev. Dr. Pierson of Michigan, he had been on inti-
mate terms at Bennington, and this friendship may have
had some influence in determining him to leave one
law-office for the other. Of his early companion Dr.
Pierson writes : —

" I left Mr. Ballard's school in November of 1835, and
went to my home in Troy, my parents having moVed there
that fall. The next time I saw Chapiii he was a student in
the law-office of my father, who was surrogate of tlie county.
While a law-student he had a host of friends in Troy, and I
never knew of his having an enemj^ there or elsewhere. But
the study of the law was not congenial to his tastes. His
mind was not of a legal cast. It was too imaginative and
poetical. He did not like the dry reading of law-hooks,
but found his delight in reading biography and history and
poetry. It was a great relief to him to throw aside Black-
stone and take up Gibbon or Byron. I think he himself be-
came soon convinced that he could not succeed in the legal
profession."

As between the verdict of the eminent la^vyer and
that of the eminent clergyman, it may not be possible
to determine where lies the exact truth. Since Chapin
early withdrew* from the study of the law, it can only
be a matter of conjecture to what success his gifts
would have borne him in that profession. " If he had
not equalled a Webster, he would have rivalled a
Choate," some one has said ; but we have no means of
measuring the speed and distance one may make along

42 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

a path he has never travelled. It cannot be proved
that Homer would have made a great general or Napo-
leon a great poet, Channing a superior business man
or Astor a fine preacher. It seems to be well settled
that there is no such thing as a universal genius, but
that all genius comes limited to some special bias. It
is probable that no one can turn with equal ease and
promise to any task, drawing at will a philosophy from
the depths of meditation, or bringing down a great poem
from the heights of Parnassus, or threading the labyrinths
of a constitutional debate, or mounting the orator's
stand with absolute mastery. Sailing its rare boat for
the wrong port, genius is often doomed to make head-
way against wind and tide, and to the, sadness of never
reaching the desired haven. It is probable that Chapin
was not equally fitted for the bar or the pulpit ; and m
the fact that he lost heart for the law in the eight or ten
months he gave to the study of it, w^e have a seeming
confirmation of Dr. Pierson's statement that he dis-
trusted his fitness for its pursuit, and felt the real bent
of his genius to be in another direction. It was deny-
ing to his Pegasus the use of his native wings. A born
poet and orator, how could he love the severe exactitudes
of juridical study and practice ? Yearning for a free and
fervid inspiration under the touch of sentiment, how
could he submit to a patient and heavy plodding ?

It is the opinion of Mr. Townsend that Chapin, while
fitted for the law, was weaned from it by the fascination
of the political platform, which offered him a theatre
of eloquence. In the Fall of 1836 occurred the Van
Buren campaign, and it was at Albany that the excite-
ment culminated; and Troy failed' not to feel the near

LIFE AT TROY. 43

commotion. The romantic candidate was not' only a
son of the Empire State, but a chief spirit in the famous
" Albany Regency ," and in that section the conflict was
doubly intense. To the election of Van Buren young
Chapin and Townsend gave their hearts and voices.
Together they " stumped " Eensselaer County, each
making twenty or more speeches. From the platforms
in the halls, or from dry-goods boxes brought into the
public squares, the youthful orators harangued the
people ; and who can doubt that these modern Trojans
would have drawn a line from old Homer, had he been
one of their listeners! Not wholly unlike the elo-
quence of Ulysses could theirs have been, and of that
ancient orator the poet says, " he sent his great voice
forth out of his breast in power, and 'his words fell like
the winter snows." Of Chapin's speeches Mr. Town-
send affirms : " They were as successful in their line as
his sermons were afterwards. Everybody patted him
on the back and praised him for them. They were
rough-and-tumble, but perfectly charming." In har-
mony with this is the testimony of Dr. Pierson.
" Chapin took part," he writes, " in the presidential
campaign of 1836, and I well remember hearing mem-
bers of the Van Buren party speak in most exalted
terms of his eloquent speeches at their political meet-
ings." From one platform to another he was followed
by enthusiastic hearers, not for instruction, but for en-
tertainment, just to hear his speech repeated, and feel
anew its magnetism.

Here once more Chapin laid his hand on his real
sceptre, and was filled with delight. He rose to that
oratorical supremacy which was his birthright. In this
impetuous rushing out of his soul through his lips, and

44 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

in the responsive liusli or the outburst of applause that
followed, he found that strange rapture that ever comes
when genius touches the path of its true destiny. As
he swept on in his torrent of speech in behalf of his
favorite candidate, and as the Dutch farmers and vil-
lao-ers warmed tlieir hands and strained their throats in
recognition of his marvellous eloquence, he must have
felt indeed an inward ecstasy and sighed for some per-
manent rostrum from which to survey the crowds that
would gather around him. Hence we are quite ready
to hear ]\Ir. Townsend say : "I found him gloomy after
the campaign, and I said to my friends, ' He finds it
dull to come back to the law-office and delve at the
table alone, with none to applaud.' Within a short
time he revealed a great depression of spirit." As one
forsakes a natural friend who enchants, to cultivate a
a love for one not after his heart, so did he retire from
the rostrum to the study of law.

But this is not the whole secret of the confessed
gloom which darkened around that ardent soul. The
young law-student and orator had fallen a victim to a
religious revival, carried on after the Burchard style,
probably by Burchard himself, having the depths of his
spiritual life broken up for the first time, and after the
most alarming fashion. Always pious in no ordinary
degree, he now became in a measure religiously unbal-
anced. Ever had his soul been the dominant power of
his life, but now it was hurled into a wild and melan-
choly supremacy. Under the terrific impulse his judg-
ment yielded for a little its serene control, and, late at
night, he was found in prayer at the street corners, and
frequently wandered in a state of absent-mindedness,
absorbed by the new and awful thoughts and fears that

LIFE AT TROY. 45

swept before him. His days were filled with anxiety,
his nights with terror. Life having assumed thus sud-
denly solemn and even fearful aspects, the law became
still less interesting to him as a calling, and the minis-
try rose to his notice as perhaps a solemn duty, if not
a privilege.

It is a tradition at Troy that he went to Eev. Dr.
Beman, an old-fashioned Calvinistic clergyman of the
city, to consult about his spiritual estate and the new
purpose taking shape in his soul, but that he received
no special encouragement toward the ministry, as his
conversion was not wholly of an approved type.

With the life-plan he had formed a few months before
thus broken up, and his new aspiration unencouraged,
he left Troy, amid cloud and storm, and went to visit
his parents and sisters, who were residing for a little
time at Bridge water, near Utica. " In great distress of
mind he came to us," says his sister, who is still living.
His mental and emotional distraction she well remem-
bers, and recalls the efforts of his parents to re-estab-
lish his peace of mind and cheer his depressed heart.

To such an experience as he had thus encountered,
no temperament was ever more exposed. Not given to
logic and deliberation, but ever prone to cast himself on
some wild torrent of impulse, he was just the one to
offer himself a captive to a Burchard or a Finney. As
one in natural sympathy with their fiery zeal, he gave
them a ready ear and an eager heart ; but, with their
fervor that charmed, he had also accepted their dark
errors, which bore to him a " fear that hath torment "
and a gloom which rested like a pall on his life. It
was from these he fled, and sought the peace of his
home.

V.

LIFE AT UTICA.

Having enjoyed amid the sympathies of his home
at Bridgewater a brief refuge from the religious storm
that had swept over his soul, Edwin Chapin went with
his father to Utica, where the rambling artist had some
orders to fill. The father and son went into temporary
quarters near the office of the " Evangelical Magazine
and Gospel Advocate," a Universalist paper published
by Rev. A. B. Grosh and 0. Hutchinson, the former
being its editor and the latter its business manager. At
this office were kept on sale the books of the Univer-
salist sect, — especially those of an expository character,
which were the ones mostly sought in that early day,
— and also a limited supply of general literature.

Into this humble retreat for the friends of Univer-
salism in Utica and the regions round about, came one
day young Chapin. By what motive he was di'awn
hither we know not. In an idle hour he may have
merely drifted into this obscure nook. It may be he
was drawn to the place Ijy the sign that indicated that
here a newspaper was published, for already a news-
paper had come to stand in signal favor with his heart,
as a medium of bearing his thoughts in prose and
poetry to the public. He was by instinct and habit an
author. As an academy-boy and as a law-student, he

LIFE AT UTICA. 47

had written much for publication. Hence he found a
fascination in the newspaper office, as a sort of gateway
between his private musings and mental creations, and
the kindling hearts of his readers. He may have come
thus into the " Magazme and Advocate " office only to
contemplate the open avenue, at that time, indeed, ro-
mantic to him, leading from an inspired seclusion to the
light of day. But the guess better suits the mood in
which the young man was then pinmg, that he had
learned that here was held and advocated another view
of religion from that m which he had been reared, and
with which, in its more terrific aspects, as painted by a
Finney or Burchard, he had recently struggled and was
still struggling ; and that he embraced the opportunity
thus open to him to make some inquiries about this new
theology called Universalism.

But failing to know the secret influence that turned
his steps in this direction, it is certain that he came
hither, and that he came again and agahi, as if some
pleasant attraction drew him to the place. It proved
to be the turning point of his life. On that morning or
mid-day or evening walk that first bore him to the door
of this newspaper office, we seem to see resting, like a
pyramid on its point, the great career he finally made
for himself in the Liberal Church and in the world.
Here was the first step in the special journey he after-
wards so grandly accomplished. It may have been a
random or a self-directed step, or, as some would like to
think, a step inspired and urged by Providence ; but
there it rises to our view in its broad significance ! The
old picture of a vast cloud hanging over the sea, grad-
ually retreating into a little vase on the shore, is here

48 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

reversed. For the idle or conscious impulse of a moment
expands into a great and solemn biography,

"Among the strangers who were in the habit of coming
in to look over our stock of books," writes Mr. Hutchinson,
" I one day noticed a young man, apparently deei)ly in-
terested in examining some of our prominent Universalist
publications. Having an eye to business, I entered into con-
versation with liim, with the view of ascertaining his wants,
when he informed me lie did not come in to purchase, but
Avould like to look over some of our books, as they treated of
subjects of especial interest to him. He then explained that
his name was Chapin ; that he was sto})ping at a hotel near
by in company with his father, an artist, who had come to
Utica for the purpose of painting the portraits of some of the
leading men of the city ; and that it would give him pleasure
to spend some time in examining our books, especially such
as related to theological points in wdiich he felt a deep inter-
est. Perceiving that he Avas not only an earnest searcher
after truth, but tlie possessor of a brilliant intellect, I deter-
mined to afford him every facility in my povver, and assured
him he was welcome to spend as much time in the store as he
pleased, calling his special attention to such works as Smith
on the Divine Government, Ballon on the Atonement, Wil-
liamson's Argument for Christianity, and other works which
seemed to meet his wants. Thenceforward he spent much
time in the store, where he soon became acquainted Avitli Mr.
Grosh and his brothers, and Rev. Dolphus Skinner, and other
clergymen and prominent laymen who were in the habit of
frequenting the place."

The proneness of the son to make a daily visit to this
Universalist resort stirred the fears of his father, who
directly placed him in the law-office of J. Watson
Williams, at a salary of $300 a year. But the new

LIFE AT UTICA. 49

link had been forged in the fire of the soul and could
not be broken. The law-student's heart was now in the
" Magazine and Advocate " office, kindling with the
broader spirit and hope of Universalism, and feeling a
new love of God taking the place of the old fear, which,
in the few recent months, had darkened into a despair.
The die was cast, and the throw could not be recalled.
And so the young man went to work for his money on
one side of the street, and stole across to the other for
spiritual comfort and genial companionship. Before
long his name appeared in the " Magazine and Advo-
cate." On the first day of July, 1837, he had written
a patriotic hymn for publication, and gave this paper a
joint privilege with another to print it. j\Ir. Grosh
thus introduced him and it to his patrons : " By the
kindness of our esteemed friend, Edwin H. Chapin,
author of the following Independence Hymn, we are
enabled to give it to our readers one week earlier than
if we had been obliged to wait to copy it from the
' Observer,' to which it was first sent for publication."
In this period, from the editorial pen, Chapin's name, at
length so familiar and so honored, appeared for the first
time before the Universalist public ; and in this hymn,
which would do credit to a riper muse, we have the first
beams from the star that finally shone with such mag-
nitude and lustre in our sky. The poem is in the form
of a nation's prayer, and is laid on the altar with a
reverent hand : —

God of this People ! Thou whose breath

Swell'd the white sail, and wing'd the breeze,
^ And sped the Exiles' trembling bark,
In safety through the stormy seas —
4

50 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

To whom our trusting sires look'd up
For strength to rive the Tyrant's chain ;

Whose wings were 'round them as a shield,
Amid the thickest battle rain —

From the old Pilgrims' altar-rock,

Far to the sounding Western sea
A Nation wafts the voice in song.

And 2)ours the heart, in pray'r, to Thee !

Hush'd be the peal of booming gun,

Hush'd be the lofty ptean now ;
While low before each holy shrine

We close the eye and veil the brow.

And, Father, be the pray'r we breathe.

Of thanks to Thee for mercies giv'n ;
For others' weal ; for^)c«cc and light.

That tears be dried a,\\(\. fetters riv'n.

And when again the shouts ring loud.

And when they tell of storied glen.
Of haunted stream and hallowed sod.

Linked with the deeds of mighty men.

When the old Charter meets our sight.
And when our " banner flouts the skies" ;

Oh then, may grateful tlioughts of Thee
Blend with our purest memories !

Still, Father, be our nation's Guide

By night or day ; in darkness bow'd,
Or rais'd to Honor's dazzling height ; —

Be Thou our " pillar " and our " cloud."

That when beside our lowly graves,
Our children s children bend the knee.

They still may praise for blessings giv'n,
And shout the anthem " we are free ! "

A sect could hardly choose a better form of advent
than this for one who, in after years, would be its glory

LIFE AT UTICA. 51

and its pride, since he came thus in the power of the
two great sentiments, so important to the world — Re-
ligion and Patriotism. Bowing at these most signifi-
cant altars set up on our planet, the altar of a God
and the altar of a nation, he was first seen by the de-
nomination which he was to honor, and which would
honor him.

In the column with this poem, which appears to have
been written for the " Observer," we have Chapin's first
words written expressly for Universalist readers. In
them he turned his face and heart openly to the people
he was to love and serve so devotedly in after years,
and on this account an interest centres in them that
will justify their transfer to these pages.

" Messrs Editors : — The following apothegms I have
culled from a work with which, from a slight glance at one
of its volumes, I have been much entertained. It is entitled
' Laconics ; or the best words of the best authors ; ' and is
indeed a * collection of gems ' from the richest Literary Cas-
kets. Although it has been before the public these few years
past, yet if its contents prove as pleasing to many of your
readers as they have to myself, I am sure they Avill be grati-
fied by seeing some of them published in your valuable and
wide-circulating journal. To many, they may be as ' familiar
as household words.' To many new and original. Be that
as it may, to all I trust these friendly and ' sage advisers '
will prove interesting and instructive. Should you see fit to
publish them, I will endeavor from time to time to continue
the selections. E. H. C."

A dozen apothegms were drawn from the book and
set under the above communication ; and, as every one's
task that is done from the heart is a mirror of the life,

52 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

SO in these selections, which were continued in three
successive numbers of the paper, we have at least some
significant etchings, if not a full portrait, of this young
man's genius and temper. Three traits of his life are
made to appear — his high literary instinct, his love of
condensation, and his humanity. He gathered these
flowers and fruits from no common bushes. By a nat-
ural taste he took to the finest colors and flavors. But
equally did he love the muUiini in parvo of these rare
bits of greatness. With his ardent temperament, pro-
lixity had no chance to find favor. He could not wait
on the slow pace of thought, leisurely travelling on
through long periods and multiplying words in the
ratio of its weakness. No Alexandrine measure, that
" like a wounded snake drags its slow length along,"
could hold his rushing impulse. Hence he revealed
himself in his early love of Laconics, and all through
his life he was wont to create them in the white heat
of his own mind. As the eager Spartans, according to
Plutarch, " jerked out great sayings," so Chapin would
hurl a great theme into a period, or paint a vast picture
with a dash of his pen. But in these selected words
the moral credit of the young man is most conspicuous.
In the high principles and sentiments which served as
touchstones to his soul, as he pondered over these terse
pages, we have a sign of his true nobility. A humane
period caught his eye as surely as Blondel's sweet song
caught the ear of the Lion-hearted Prince. It is ar
pleasing tradition with the ]\Iohammedans, because at-
testing the greatness of their Prophet, that, as he walked
the earth, everything beautiful, birds and flowers, the
finest music and the rarest thoughts, flew to greet him ;

LIFE AT UTICA. 53

and so are the generosity and honor of young Chapin
mirrored in the noble Laconics which offered themselves
for his pen to transcribe. " The English punish vice ;
the Chinese do better, they reward virtue," is the first
in the triple list, and drawn from Goldsmith. From
Lord Herbert he quoted : " He that cannot forgive oth-
ers, breaks the bridge over which he must pass him-
self ; for every one has need to be forgiven." In Sir
Philip Sidney's words, " A just man hateth the evil, but
not the evil-doer," he discovered the text of the true
reformer, and foreshadowed the spuit he was destined
to exemplify in hunself. With like good taste and
moral instinct he completed his task of culling Laconics
for his readers, and thus attended by the Muse and the
great authors he rose in the Universalist horizon.

With plenty of esteem and good-will to confer on
their new and brilliant acquaintance, and but little
money, Grosh & Hutchinson made up their minds to
offer him an increase of fifty dollars a year in salary if
he would come into their office. On his first appear-
ance in their paper they had discovered that he could
greatly aid them in conducting their literary columns
and in general proof-reading, and their offer was made
at once, and it was at once accepted. With the greater
pay ranged on the side of the greater inclination, hesita-
tion was out of the question ; and now, with a lighter
heart than ever before, the young man crossed the street
from the law-office to meet his newly found friends,
whose service he was to enter, and to steadily breathe
an atmosphere that had charmed him.

And this delight was the greater from the fact that
Mr. Williams, too practical to enter into his poetical

54 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

and speculative tendencies, had spoken with disfavor,
if not with derision, of his Fourth-of-July Hymn, and
other pieces from his pen. These criticisms touched a
tender spot. The Muse, a jealous creature, will not
be spoken ill of. The fire of real genius cannot stand
cold water. A Dr. Franklin's father might well enough
laugh at his son's boyish doggerel, and tell him that
" poetry led to the poorhouse and he had better not
cultivate it ; " for the lad had no poetic gift to feel
the sting of such derision. His poetry was only a part
of his worldly policy, to be held to or given up accord-
ing to its financial value. He tells us of one of his
poems that " sold prodigiously," and no doubt this was
the one that lay nearest to his heart. It was a ballad
on the capture of a celebrated pirate. But a Chapin's
gift of poetry was too real, and too intense and devoted,
to be calm under any but a helpful criticism, or to
allow a business view of its value. It was to him as
sacred as the Delphic Oracle to the Pythian Apollo.
And so, between repulsion on one side of the street and
attraction on the other, he came eagerly into the office
of the " Magazine and Advocate," and in a very cheerful
spirit went about his work.

Eapidly his mind and heart took on the faith of
which this paper was the organ ; and the dark cloud,
that lowered around him at Troy, now rolled away and
left a blue sky above his head. His conversion seems
to have been silent and without a strugfrle, and at once
he became buoyant and happy. So easily and swiftly
did he take to the new faith, it would almost seem that
without knowing it he had been a convert to it in ad-
vance. As the sun shines in all its glory behind the

LIFE AT UTICA. 55

cloud and tempest, so behind his darKened sky must
have beamed the star of a universal hope. In his hu-
manity Universalism must have been latent, even as it
seems to be in all love ; for the more love, the more
heaven and the less hell, are the order of history.
Hence, as the cloud was dispersed, he stood in the
liberal fold in full form, and at peace with himself
and his God. In a few wxeks he had made up his
mind to enter the Universalist ministry, but was wisely
advised by Mr. Grosli to cherish his new purpose at
least six months in his thoughts before taking any de-
cisive step toward the pulpit.

Amid this new cheer thus dawning upon him, he
entered the pleasant home of Eev. Mr. Grosh as a
boarder; and the busy editor and sermon-maker de-
clares that, amid his studies, he " had often to read the
riot act, to disperse Chapin and the children from their
romps." The young student was as full of sport as of
ambition for study. Manifesting his love of rare books,
it is well remembered, to this day, that " he read, sung,
whistled, and made puns all at the same time." It
was a strife between the boy and the man in him, with
remarkable achievements on both sides.

When he had been two months in the employ of
Grosh & Hutchinson, these gentlemen announced to
their patrons that they had engaged an assistant edi-
tor, and were liberal in their praise of the unnamed
person. In their next issue, on the 22nd of September,
they printed the following item : " The assistant edi-
tor commences his labors in advance of the next volume
in order that he and our readers may become somewhat
acquainted with each other. The careful reader will

56 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

see by the initials, E. H. C, that it is the same Edwin
H. Chapin who furnished the Independence Hymn for
our cohimns in July last." Thus rapid was his pro-
gress, from an inquirer in this office to an assistant editor,
and a preacher in aim and preparation. But whatever
Chapin did he was under a constitutional necessity of
doing swiftly and with all his might. No youth or
man ever hammered cold iron less than he, or was
more disqualified for slow processes. His vision was like
the flash of the lightning, and his conclusions followed
as speedily as the reverberations that accompany the
electric flame.

He was twenty-two years old when he was thus pro-
moted to the editorial chair ; and a brief study of his
work, beginning with October of 1837, and ending with
May of 1838, will reveal some significant colors to
transfer to the portrait of the workman. In some of
his themes we recognize echoes from the academy.
Such are his editorials on " Day Dreams," " The Debat-
ing Club," and "Mixed Metaphors," in the latter of
which he ventured to criticise Shakespeare, accused
Scott of making "a royal oak cast anchor," and de-
clared : " I do not like to see winged creatures swim-
ming, nor dwellers in the deep mounting sunward, nor
trees walking, nor diamonds scattering perfume, and
the like, — for I cannot bear to see the order of nature
perverted even in metaphor."

Of nature he had already, in youthful prose and
poetry, revealed his deep appreciation and love ; but in
his editorials he disclosed a special interest in this di-
rection. It was at this period a lucky chance befel
him, through which he reached a degree of ecstasy in

LIFE AT UTICA. 57

view of the beauty and glory of the outward world.
In a moment of sport he put on Mr. Grosh's spectacles
for lengthening the too short vision, and lo ! the earth
and the heavens were new to him. He thus discovered
the secret of his near-sightedness, and that by the aid
of glasses a larger and a fairer world was henceforth to
be his. In rapture he beheld the contrast ; and for
months he revelled in the unproved scenery of nature,
making it the theme of conversation and of his elated
pen. ''Have our readers m this vicinity," he inquired
in an editorial, evidently inspired by this incident, " no-
ticed the appearance of the heavens these few evenings
past at sunset ? For our part, we have witnessed colors
in the firmament more splendid than ever decorated an
eastern palace, or glowed in dreams of fairyland. Just
at the going down of the sun, there have shot athwart
the western sky all beautiful hues, strange and gor-
geous, emerald and crimson, and varied tints, as if the
robes of angels had been flung over the battlement of
the far heavens, or else

' The home
And fountain of the rainbow were revealed.' "

A similar thrill of joy is in all the periods of this
composition, as if the sense of new riches had just been
stirred within him. In a more thoughtful but not less
grateful strain, he soon wrote an editorial on the text in
Genesis, "and there was light." "Ah ! what a moment
must that have been," he exclaimed, " when first the
clear, glad light broke over the earth which before had
been ' without form and void,' and which dispelled the
darkness that until then had rested 'on the face of the
deep.' Then sprang into existence beauty, life, and

58 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

joy." In a brief season a poem burst from his soul on

" The Waters," in which he vividly and fondly painted

their' changing aspects. The first lines of some of the

stanzas will sufficiently mdicate the range and rapture

of his vision : —

" Oh ! mighty are the waters ; "

" Oh ! lovely are the waters ; "

"Oh ! glorious are the waters ; "

" Oh ! pleasant are the waters. "

But in religion Chapin revealed himself in these
editorial months in a light at once strange and almost
unaccountable. With surprise at least, if not with a
degree of wonder, we contemplate his attitude. A new
convert, he scarcely made a reference to the doctrine
he had embraced, of the final salvation of all souls,
and wrote not a word in defence of it. Meanwhile
he wrote an editorial parrying "A Eecent Attack on
Phrenology," and another in advocacy of that science.
When most young men, newly converted and full of
the spirit of championship, would have rushed into the
thick of the theological strife, marshalling the argu-
ments pro and con, he stood serenely above the militant
arena, and seemed indeed to be quite unconscious of it.
Shall we, therefore, doubt the fact of his conversion ?
Not at all. In hints and implications his Universalism
is too evident to be called in question. And, moreover,
the native honor of the young man would have forbid-
den his holding a place in form which he did not hold
in spirit. In fact, a Sir Walter Ealeigh was not more
the soul of honor than was Edwin Chapin, and his
good conscience would not have suffered him to stand
before the. Universalist public as one of its rank and

LIFE AT UTICA. 59

file, as he surely did stand, nor to meditate entering its
ministry, if the faith had not taken the form of a
conviction and possessed his heart. Another point in
evidence of his conversion to the doctrine is found in
the fact that Mr. Grosh, who knew best the secrets of
his associate's mind, had no doubt of his acceptance
of this faith. Indeed, such a doubt would have barred
Chapin from the seat he was - daily occupying in the
office, and to which he was welcomed with pride.

How then shall we account for the fact that his pen,
left to the largest liberty, wrote not a paragraph nor
period in defence or advocacy of his new faith ? It may
be said he saw an excess, instead of a lack, of this kind
of writing in the paper he was engaged on ; and that he
refrained from a needless performance, and sought to
supply a department for which he had a special gift
beyond any contributor to its columns. In this view of
the case there may be a degree of truth. And it may
also be said, he felt his crudeness as a young convert,
and modestly and wisely yielded to the senior editor the
offices of debate and exegesis, for which he was emi-
nently fitted. Mr. Grosh had advised him to cherish
his new faith in his thoughts at least six months before
presuming to preach it, and says : " I think he saw the
propriety of my views abovit his preaching, and applied
it to his waiting and publishing also. "

But while these explanations may in part explain the
silence in question, there can be little doubt that the
main cause of it will be found in the very constitution
of Chapin' s inner life. His course at that time differed
not from his method in all the subsequent years of his
life. The same general silence about Universalism as

60 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

a doctrine ever characterized him. When he finally-
parted from this paper, so full of argument and exe-
gesis, and went to his ministry where the faith was
little known, and his own mind had time to ripen out
of crudeness, still was the same silence maintained ;
and to the end of his days he rarely touched on this
special theme. Hence it is probable that his reticence
from beginning to end had a common source, and that
source, no doubt, was in himself ; as every great silence
or great utterance has its condition in the soul. In his
supreme interest in life as a present reality, by reason
of his living it so intensely and greatly, his interest in
any theory of its future became a comparatively subor-
dinate thing. The richness of its possession drew his
thoughts from its prospects. To-day stood as a tower-
ing mountain before which to-morrow was hidden, and
only at wide intervals did his mind fly over to contem-
plate the unseen vales and the yet higher mountains
that might lie beyond. In present life he was absorbed,
— his nature bred it so rapidly and m such volumes
through his contacts with nature and man and books
and religion ; and hence he wrote repeated editorials, in
eloquent and urgent terms, on " The Spirit of Eeligion,"
but only incidentally treated of the hope it brings to
man. Not rejecting the latter, he dwelt more con-
stantly and ardently on the former. Early and late,
this was his genius and his order of work. In short,
he was a disciple and advocate of those practical prin-
ciples of religion that are common to all the orders,
that address all souls, and that stand free from the
strifes that rage on the arena of controversial theology.
Hence, in one of the editorials above referred to, he

LIFE AT UTICA. 61

wrote : " The banner we plant on our ramparts should
not be the banner of a sect, the banner of a party, but
the banner of Christ, the banner of salvation ; and in
our midst should be altars and prayers, and strivings
for spiritual strength and the spirit of religion." In
another of this series of articles he wrote : " Brethren,
practical religion is the great essential of Christianity.
We may toil, we may strive, we may work merely to
build up a sect, — and yet, what boots it all ? It is
far better to have brought one stray sheep back to the
Shepheid's Fold, to have turned the footsteps of one
Prodigal homeward to his Father, to have poured'
light and gladness on the path of one sin-darkened
wanderer. ''

Hence his remarkable reticence was not a policy
based on the conditions of the hour so much as it was
an outgrowth from his own nature. In the spirit of
religion, and not in its theory, was his supreme interest.
Before expectation he ranked experience, and wrote
and spoke, from first to last, in the interest of a present
salvation.

During these months of editorial work, Chapin ne-
glected not to cultivate his oratorical gift. In the
Berean Society — a company of young people who
met once a week on winter evenings, in the Universalist
Church, to discuss religious and social topics, and to
read a paper of original contributions by its members —
the young editor stood witliout a peer as a writer and
speaker. In both wit and wisdom he excelled, and his
fervent voice was without a rival Across the sweep of
forty years comes the remembrance of some of his
speeches. One on Slavery is said to have awakened all

62 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the thunders of eloquence which were pent up in his
being. One of his efforts has passed into tradition
as his " tearing speech." The honor of closing a de-
bate had been accorded to him, and for some reason he
came to his task wearing a friend's coat, which was too
small for him. His friend saw the peril of the garment,
and secretly hoped it would not be equal to the strain
to which the orator in an excited moment would put it.
His hope was fulfilled. • In the midst of a stormy cli-
max, a rent was made in the garment, and its owner
whispered aloud to the Boanerges, " Chapin, you are
ripping my coat'" "Well, let her rip," quickly re-
sponded the mtended victim of the joke, and then
added, with raised voice and expanded gesture, a free
rendering of Sewall's famous couplet : —

" No pent-up Utica sliall contract my powers ;
But tlie whole boundless continent is ours."

Another tear was the result of the frantic gesture,
and a hearty applaiise rewarded the mishap.

At length the six months wherein he was silently to
cherish his purpose to preach had passed away, and,
encouraged by Mr. Grosh, who now understood him
and confided in him, he made ready his first sermon.
But his hilarious habits, his obtrusive levity, — more
obvious to the people than his secret devotions, though
not more real to him, — had awakened distrust of his
fitness for the pulpit ; and one and another went to his
teacher to file their remonstrance. Tliey dreaded com-
edy in the sacred desk. They did not desire to have
the people, in the high hour of the Sunday service,
mortified with a piece of wit, instead of lifted up and

LIFE AT UTICA. 63

blessed by a serious deportment and a reverent dis-
course. But Mr. Grosli knew better than they the
deeper gravity of the young man, and urged him on to
his sacred calling. He knew the supremacy of the so-
berer side of Chapiu's life, and that when engaged in a
divine service his exuberant wit would be as if it were
not ; and hence he encouraged his clerical aim.

On the 9th of March, 1838, the senior editor informed
his readers of the accession of a young man to the min-
istry, and then added, " I think I may promise the an-
nunciation of another next week. Will our readers
keep their ears open to hear it ? " A week later the
awakened curiosity was allayed by the printmg of the
following item in the " Magazine and Advocate -. " —

" Last Sunday Brother E. H. Chapin, our worthy associate,
delivered his first sermon in Spencer's schoolhouse, Litch-
field, to the congregation to wliich Brother McAdam statedly
ministers. Those who heard it speak of it as very creditable
to him, both in manner and matter ; and wlieu we say to
our readers that he is as good in the former as in the latter,
they will know what that encomium means. We anticipate
a course of usefulness and honor for our friend, and pray
that the divine blessing may ever rest on him and his
labors."

Thus the devout youth and the born prince of oratory
mounted his real throne — the pulpit. As the star
finds its orbit, and moves gloriously in it, so had he
found his true sphere, and easily rose to great useful-
ness and fame. In the following May he left Utica
for Richmond, Virginia, and entered upon his first
pastorate.

VI.

SETTLEMENT IN EICHMOND.

In May of 1838 Edwin H. Chapin went to Eich-
mond, Virginia, to begin his work as a minister of the
Gospel. In two months from the preaching of his first
sermon he assumed the responsibility of a pulpit and a
parish. With no college or theological school behind
him, from which he had brought the helpful resources
of discipline and well directed reading, he entered upon
his task in utter self-dependence, — or leanmg only on
himself and his God, in whom his native trust had but
ripened with the passing years.

He was now twenty-three years old, not bulky in
person as in after-life, but plump, and then, as ever,
averse to physical exercise, save as the aroused spirit
compelled the flesh. His life w^as from above down-
ward, not from below upward, and his body waited on
his soul. With his arms and legs he was awkward,
and his fingers were all thumbs. But his eye was deep
and glowmg, his face mobile and earnest, his voice to a
rare degree powerful and rich ; and in character he was
modest to bashfulness, jovial to the point of being bois-
terous and putting the proprieties in peril, religious as a
Eenelon, full of tenderness and magnanimity as a Wil-
liam Penn, and with the soul of honor like a Channmg.

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 65

He was a rare specimen of consecrated and magnetic
young manhood, carrying in his gifts better resources
than the schools can confer ; and thus armed in him-
self, though unequipped from the armories from which
the young minister usually starts out on his warfare, he
at once rose to conspicuous popularity.

He had, however, one acquired source of success, to
which many mmisters, young and old, are quite indiffer-
ent, — he brought to his task the helps and honors of
literature. Of the great books he had been a good
reader from his earUest years, and their aidful power
was upon him. Xo mean educators for the pulpit
are the poets, since in them is the genius that kin-
dles the gifts that open into a happy rhetoric and a
moving eloquence, while they inculcate a rehgion that
is Inroad and divine, a synthesis of the more universal
ideas and sentiments of the kingdom of God.

Beyond any two professors of theology in the English
realm, have Coleridge and Wordsworth been the teachers
and inspirers of those English clergymen who, in our
time, have attained to the finest spiritual insights,
opened out to the Church the best views of religion, and
touched the popular heart with the truest fire of elo-
quence. It is the high office and the mission of litera-
ture to give freedom to the mind, elevation to the
tastes, range and vividness to the imagination, facility
to the tongue and pen ; while the books on theology too
often cramp and damage the talents that should appear
in the sermon, and turn the pulpit from a "lively ora-
cle " to a dispenser of sleep and death. In the literary
department of culture, thus helpful to the minister,
young Chapin was strong ; and his magnetic manhood,

5

66 LIFE OF EDWIN IT. CHAPIN.

thus panoplied, bore him on to an easy and remarkable
victory in the proclamation of a plain morality and a
broad and simple piety. At once the best minds in
Eichmond felt his sway, and his chastened and charged
wand drew the intelligent crowd around him.

Not without surprise and wonder can any one trace
his career through the brief two and a half years of his
Eichmond ministry. The honor of being the first ora-
tor in the South, a realm full of orators, was accorded
to him by such men as Thomas Eitchie of the " Eichmond
Enquirer." In two months after his advent in the city,
he preached in his own church a Fourth-of-July dis-
course, which was published and favorably noticed in
the " Eichmond Compiler." Aware of the prejudice that
would then exist against a stranger from the North, he
conciliated that prejudice, with the skill of a veteran
orator, as follows : —

" Fellow-citizens, I have stood by the grave of the first
martyr of liberty at Lexington, and my feet have pressed the
green sod of Bunker's Hill. Several years of my life have
been passed near the field of Bennington, where the brave
mountaineers defeated the Briton, and gave the first impulse
to those successes which resulted in victory. And now I am
far from my birthplace, in your clime of the Sunny South.
Yet I am not an alien here. I can look proudly around me
and exclaim,

'This is my own, my native land.'

I am yet surrounded with monuments of my country's fame.
I stand in a place hallowed by great names of my nation. I
am in the vicinity of Yorktown, crowned with the glory of
triumph. I am in tlie home and birtliplace of Lee and
Henry and Jefferson and Madison and Marshall ! I am on

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 67

the soil that embosoms the ashes of Washington. You are
proud of these ; so am I, — what American is not 1 "

What a vantage ground lie thus won to himself, from
which to discuss the unity of the nation, and the condi-
tions of its greatness and peace ! They who heard his
oration were entranced, and they who read it were edi-
fied ; and when Independence Day again came round,
many of the foremost citizens honored the young orator
with an invitation to address the public on such a
national theme as he might choose. He accepted the
invitation, and in the First Baptist Church — so writes
the Hon. Henry K. Ellyson, now of the " Eichmond De-
spatch"— "he delivered to an immense assemblage of
our people one of the most eloquent Fourth-of-July
orations ever heard by them." Mr. Thomas Eitchie
pronounced it " the finest oration to which he had ever
listened." When it finally came into print, in answer
to a wide demand, the editor of the " Southern Literary
Messenger," an ably conducted magazine, " devoted to
every part of hterature and the fine arts," thus noticed
it in his columns : " We were so fortunate as to hear
Mr. Chapiu deliver his address to a numerous and de-
lighted auditory, and, charmed as we were on the occa-
sion, we were somewhat disposed to ascribe a part of
the thrilling effect to the fine elocution of the orator.
Having given it, however, an attentive reading since its
appearance in type, justice requires the acknowledg-
ment that the high praise bestowed upon the perform-
ance is due to its intrinsic merits. Mr. Chapin's
style is unique and graphic. He represents to the
mind's eye a succession of vivid pictures, which are
warm with life and redolent of beauty. He narrates

68 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

events with remarkable power, — grouping all their
strikmg incidents with such force and effect as to en-
chain the listener's .attention irresistibly." Thus had
he fired the hearts of these eloqueuce-loving Southrons
by his youthful oratory, and they were loud in their
praise of his gift.

AVith an oratory thus kindled by the love of great
and useful principles, and commended by a fine lite-
rary taste, Chapin was soon brought to the Lyceum
platform. -The Lyceum was then in its infancy, the first
organization of the kind having been founded in 1826
by Josiah Holbrook, of Connecticut, who finally became
a Lyceum fanatic and projected in Ohio a debating
village which he named Berea. But the spirit of the
colonized debaters for their chosen calling soon expired,
and, mstead of a town of wranglers, Berea became a
hamlet of peaceful citizens. " A convention was held
in Boston, November 7, 1828, to promote the interests
of the lyceums, and to further their wide-spread organ-
ization. Among those who took part in this meeting
were Webster, Everett, Dr. Lowell, and George B. Em-
erson." In 1838 a lyceum was instituted in Eichmond,
and on the 3d of April, 1839, Chapin gave its anni-
versary address in the State Capitol. But before this
he had been called to the lecture platform in this city
in a way that touched his heart and made a fixed im-
pression on his memory. This call came from the Eev.
E. L. Magoon, now of national fame as a Baptist min-
ister and an author. Magoon, Chapin, and others,
looking to the public good and seeking also a vent for
their pent-up fires, " started a course of popular lec-
tures, each speaker to provide his own arena and illu-

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 69

minate all comers gratis." Each orator was to furnish
eloquence and pay the bills. Cliapin gave his lecture
in his own church, to an audience that crowded its
limited space, and his effort was a triumph in every
particular. Its theme was lofty, its treatment thought-
ful and touched with a happy literary embellishment,
and its delivery earnest and overpowering. " One of
the hearers," writes JNIr. Magoon, " then a young and
obscure mechanic, now the distinguished co-proprietor
of the 'Ptichmond Despatch' (Henry K. Ellyson), said
to me, ' That lecture by Chapin was really great, and
should be repeated before a larger assemblage.' ' Very
well,' said I, ' let him come to the Second Baptist Church
next Monday evening, and we will all endeavor to se-
cure him a worthy audience.' " By this novel and lib-
eral proffer the public heart was touched and won, and
the people flocked to hear the young orator. But the
heart most affected was his own, and never was he
more eloquent than in this hour of generous recognition.
" It was the oratory of a noble child of God," says Ma-
goon ; and the occasion was ever looked back to by
Chapin as the first round in the ladder of his ascent as
a lecturer. He was wont to refer to Mr. Magoon as
" the father of his fame." We may well confess the
generosity of this Baptist hand that thus swung open
the gate leading to the lecture platform ; but, had it
been withheld, the orator's gifts would at an early day
have burst every barrier and carried him in triumph
before the lyceums from Piichmond to Montreal, from
Boston to St. Louis.

Before the lyceum assembled in the State Capitol
he said : " I lay down as the motto of my discourse

70 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the broad maxim that intelligence is essentially requi-
site to the prosperity of a nation." He defined pros-
perity to be " all that relates to progress, happiness, and
safety ; " and the intelligence that would master these
high ends he set forth as " the clear perception of truth
and duty, and the universal diffusion of that percep-
tion." From an able treatment of these propositions,
he passed to a discussion of the methods by which in-
telligence may be disseminated.

To a key thus lofty was his voice pitched in this first
lyceum lecture, and it was never afterward lowered by
a tone. To him the platform and the pulpit stood for
a common mission. They who lieard him twenty years
from this date will have no trouble in detecting his
identity in the following passage from his lecture in
the Virginia Capitol : "A man is not now, like the
athlete of old, distinguished by his physical superiority, —
by his speed in the race, his power in the pugilistic com-
bat, his precision in guiding the chariot steeds, or his
skill in hurling the swift javelin, — but he has a part to
perform in the intellectual arena, if he would come out
from /)blivion and become an acting portion of the age ;
and well should he be girded and prepared for the task.
That mighty weapon, reason, should be ever ready and
briglit in his hands, and he should exercise and inure
himself to the conflict of mind with mind."

Before the Madison Debating Society of Eichmond,
in 1840, he gave a lecture on " True Greatness," which
was published in pamphlet by the society. Apart from
usefulness he claimed there could be no true great-
ness, and ended his plea for virtue and love, as the
needed inspirers of talent, with the following appeal :

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 71

" Strive, then, after true greatness, my friends. Strive
for the welfare of humanity. Labor in your vocations,
whatever they may be, but do not shut up your sympa-
thies within the narrow limit of self; let them flow
out, broadly and warmly, for the race. Act for your
country, for duty, for God ; and may you enjoy the
blessed experience of the truth that usefulness is the
test of true greatness."

But Chapin's great work at Eichmond was in his
pulpit and his parish. From May to September he
preached without ordination. In the latter month he
went North to take on himself two of the great vows
that man is permitted to assume, — the marriage vow
and the ordination vow, — in the one of which he pledges
love and devotion to a woman, and in the other fealty
to God and religion. At a conference of the New York
Central Association held in Knoxville, Madison County,
on the 26th and 27th of September, 1838, he received
a letter of fellowship and ordination. The sessions
were on Wednesday and Thursday, and at one of the
earlier meetings Chapin had preached with great effect,
and was appointed by general request to give the
" Addresses " at the close of the Conference. The
ordination took place on Thursday afternoon. Eev. D.
Biddlecom read the Scripture and offered an invocation.
Eev. A. B. Grosh, the special friend and teacher of the
candidate, preached a sermon from the words of Paul
to Timothy : " Preach the word ; be instant in season,
out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-
suffering and doctrine." Eev. Job Potter prayed the
prayer of Ordination. Mr. Grosh delivered the Scrip-
tures and Charge. Eev. M. B. Smith gave the Eight

72 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Hand of Fellowship in behalf of the churches. Then
followed the Addresses by Rev. E. H. Chapin.

" These addresses," writes Mr. Grosh, " were custo-
mary at all the Associations of that day, and concluded
the meetmgs. They were made — 1st, to the preachers;
2d, to the delegates ; 3d, to the congregation ; 4tli, to
the church or society ; 5th, to the choir. They gener-
ally embraced contrasts of present with past conditions
of the cause, — sometimes reminiscences of persons and
events of note, — exhortations to duty, diligence, &c., to
go home and apply the lessons taught and the plans
laid out by the meeting. They were intended to inspire
brotherly love, zeal, enthusiasm, and afforded an oppor-
tunity for an eloquent speaker to make the close of the
feast its choicest portion." It w^as in the deliverance
of these addresses that Chapin's voice was first heard
as an ordained minister ; and to this day are well re-
membered the inspiration and power of his utterance.
To strong and glowing thoughts he added a spirit of
tender devoutness, which gave a signal prophecy of his
future usefulness.

In a few days after his ordination he was married at
Utica. The record of the event is here quoted from the
"Magazme and Advocate." "In this city, on the 15th
inst., by Eev. A. B. Grosh, Eev. E. H. Chapin, corres-
ponding editor of this paper, and pastor of the First
Congregational Church of Christ, in Richmond, Va.,
to Miss Hannah Newland, of this city." To this wor-
thy young woman, as sound in judgment as devoted in
her affection, he had been introduced by Mr. Hutchin-
son, who first gave him a welcome, in his little book-
store, to Universalist books ; and to the end of his life

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 73

both the woman and the Universalism were his constant
and beloved companions.

Eeturning to Eichmond from his eventful journey to
the North, he bent his energies almost exclusively to
pulpit and parish work. He was at once missed by the
readers of the " Magazme and Advocate," who had
come to look with desire each week for the light that
shone from this brilliant star ; and Mr. Grosh, in mak-
ing his December promises to his patrons in view of a
new volume, expressed the "hope that Br. Chapin's
contributions will be more frequently visible than they
have been during the honeymoon. " But his hope was
in vam. The young man had found another bride that
shared also the rapt devotions of his heart. The rival
queen was Eloquence ; and from the path along which
she led him he could not turn aside then, nor ever
after. From that time to the end of his days his pen
was mainly the servant of his voice. In the preacher
was absorbed the writer. He moulded his style for
delivery, and suited his periods to the public ear. Aside
from a few poems and hymns and brief editorials that
the years drew from him, he wrote henceforth only
sermons and lectures. But no one can doubt that in
thus narrowing the tides that poured from his inner
life, he gave to them greater depth and power. Sacri-
ficing poetry and essay and narrative to the sermon, he
became the more effective in the pulpit ; and the crowd
was soon drawn to his church as by an irresistible
magnet.

In the two and a half years at Eichmond he wrote
and preached a course of lectures and some practical ser-
mons, which, with slight revisions, were finally published

74 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

in two volumes, and have found readers and admirers in
all denominations. They were his " Lectures to Young
Men," and " Discourses on Various Subjects. " In these
volumes we have ample evidence that his was a re-
markable ministry for a young man on whom the schools
had conferred little aid. Only a rare greatness could
have risen to such triumphs. It will not be easy to
find, in all the history of pulpit orators, a parallel
to this victory -of the years between twenty-three and
twenty-seven.

The popular tract from his pen — " "What Univer-
salism is not " — is one of his Eichmond sermons, and
shows his full acceptance of the doctrine of the salva-
tion of all souls. The sermon had this more positive
title : " Universalism ; what it is not, and what it is. "
Having informed his hearers that " Universalism is not
Atheism," "is not Skepticism," "is not Deism," "is
not a doctrine which instructs its followers to make
light of sin," "is not a doctrine which teaches that the
sinner may pass unchanged to heaven and happiness, "
and " is not a doctrine which teaches that man shall
be saved from punishment," he turned to inform them
what this doctrine is. " It is a doctrine, " he said,
" which teaches that all mankind will finally be saved
from sin and its consequent misery. This is an impor-
tant sentence in our discourse, for it is a position of
which our opponents seem not generally aware. Be it
remembered that we do not enter the arena of discus-
sion to argue against punishment, — against future
punishment, — but against the endless duration of sin
and misery. "We do not believe that evil is ultimate
in the government of God. We believe there will be

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 75

a period when the last enemy shall be destroyed, —
when man shall bow in moral subjection to his Maker,
and worship Him in the ' beauty of holiness. ' "

Not without a great debate and struggle with his
heart, we may well believe, did Chapin withdraw his
facile pen from inditing poems and writing editorials,
for which it had a strong bias. For the haunt of the
muse and for the newspaper office he shared a great
love, and could only forsake them reluctantly, as one
whose judgment compels his inclination. For the
" Literary Messenger " he furnished a poem now and
then, as if to ease his lyric passion, and in a quiet way
stole into the publishing sanctum to do a little editing.
For this interest and aid Mr. White, the publisher, felt
truly grateful, and to the stipulated compensation, if
there were such, he added the gift of a gold watch and
chain.

Meanwhile Chapin had issued the prospectus of a
religious journal to be called the " Independent Chris-
tian," The ideal of a platform broader than a sect
haunted him. His chief interest was in those more
spiritual and vital ideas of religion common to all the
orders, and he conceived and put forth the plan of a
paper that should especially recognize and urge these
views. In the era of general narrowness he was a
broad-church man, and sighed to reach a hand across
every partition wall and, in a hearty fellowship, grasp
the hand of every one who held with him the great
essentials of Christianity. But he was as one born out
of due time. He was too early for a movement of this
sort. " The patronage promised, " writes Eev. J. C.
Burrus, of the " Notasulga Herald," *' did not justify

76 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the undertaking, " and the beautiful vision of a religious
journal of that scope faded from his broad and ardent
soul. But he still kept his faith in the idea and the
spirit he would thus advocate ; and, often urging the
theme in after years, but never seeing his bright dream
take the form of reality, he finally, amid the even-
ing shadows of his life-day, turned to the " festival of
redeemed souls, wdiere there shall be no sect names, no
party names ; where, through God's grace and Christ's
victory, we shall know one another, not by sectarian
symbols, but the white robe and the palm ; where there
are no congregations but only one congregation ; where
there are no pastors or people, but one great flock, and
one fold and one Shepherd."

In these early years, as ever after, he kept up his
interest in great and good books ; but he read literature
as a preacher of the gospel, that he might draw from its
rich resources wisdom and ornament for his sermons,
and the influences that should kindle the gifts of in-
sight and eloquence in his own nature. He knew the
value of genius to awaken genius. He knew the stim-
ulating air of Parnassus, and the inspiration to be
found in the groves where the wise ones have medi-
tated. He had thus early caught the book fever. On
the 2nd of May, 1840, he wrote to Eichard Frothing-
ham, Jr., of Massachusetts, the well known historian
of the " Siege of Boston : " "I have succeeded in pro-
curing a copy of Bolingbroke's philosophical works. I
procured four volumes at auction, and, strange to tell,
happened to have the odd volume that just supplied
the break m the set. I see occasionally, in the Boston
papers, a sale of old books advertised that makes my

SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 77

mouth water." A few months later than this he sent
this chatty paragraph in a letter to the same friend : —

" So much for more serious matters of business. Xow for
a little literary chat. Have you bought any new books
lately ] I have purchased Bronson's ' Charles EUwood ' and
Guizot's ' Washington,' and I have also sent for Guizot's
' English Eevolution ' — though whether I shall retain this
latter, or sell it to a friend in Richmond or to the library of
the Richmond Lyceum, I do not know. It is my intention
to make a special study of the history of England from the
Reformation to the departure of tlie Pilgrims, or rather to the
Revolution of 1688 ; and there to take up the annals of our
own country. A period fraught with great principles and
brUliant events bearing on human progress, — is it not 1 I
also intend to study particularly the character of Cromwell.
1 think the results would furnish valuable matter for a couple
of lyceum lectures. It is my intention this winter to deliver
a course of six lectures, probably Sabbath evenings, to busi-
ness men. "What do you think of the project ? I have
been reading with some interest ' Sartor Resartus.' I am
pleased with it. There is a good paper in the last ' Christian
Examiner ' on ' The Pulpit,' containing hints which in my
sphere, such as it is, I will endeavor to practise upon. Have
you read it? In the July number of the same periodical
Mr. Ellis has a fine article on ' Christian Antiquities in Rome.'
You have read the * Dial ' I presume. What think you of it 1
And how comes on the 'History of Charlestown 1 ' And do
you still cling to the idea that there can be no such thing as
a ' tyranny of the majority 1 ' I hope you do ; it will be a
fine bone to be picked between us."

However much Eichmond honored and loved her
young minister, his fame could not be limited to her
borders. There is good evidence that the eye of Abel

78 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Tompkins of Boston, ever on the watch for a facile pen
to contribute matter for him to prmt in magazine or
book, and on the lookout for any superior preacher that
might arise in the order, was first turned from New
England to this glowing star in the southern sky.
Visiting Washington in the early part of 1839, he made
a flying trip to Eichmond to see Chapin. Like fore-
ordained friends the two men met. The mutual re-
spect fostered at a distance flamed into a swift and
abiding affection ; and, writing to a friend, Chapin said,
" I have seen Tompkins and found hmi a man after my
heart." From this date it became one of the evident
events of the near future that Chapin would be called
to Boston or vicinity. The strife between the two
regions soon began, and Eichmond had finally to yield
in the unequal contest. But to this day she remem-
bers and honors her eloquent young preacher. Gladly
would she have kept him, but she held not back her
parting blessing as he passed from her borders to toil
in a wider field.

VII.

MINISTEY IN CHAELESTOWK

In September of 1839 the General Convention of
Universalists met in Portland, Maine. From his South-
ern home to this Northern city ]\Ir. Chapin journeyed
by stage and boat, to attend the meetings of this body,
and to bring himself into a more direct fellowship with
the ministers and the people whom he had only greeted
from his distant isolation, with his pen. Dusty and
weary he arrived in Boston on the 13th inst., not a stran-
ger in the city, since here he had spent some of his
youthful years, but a stranger to the friends he was to
meet. It was a day of grief in our borders, for iu
Charlestown was reposing in the silence and majesty
of death, and waiting the solemn hour of burial, the
body of the Eev. Thomas F. King, the beloved pastor
of the Universalist Church in that city, the father of the
brilliant Starr King, and the friend of truth and hu-
manity. The hour came, and with it " a spontaneous
closing of the places of business, an impressive service
in the church, a great funeral procession, and a gather-
ing of thousands on the ancient burial-mound of Charles-
town." On the fresh grave of a pastor, no warmer or
more grateful tears were ever shed.

" On the evening of the day of this scene," says Eich-
ard Frothingham, Jr., in his " Tribute to Thomas Starr

80 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

King," "a young man, a stranger in the place, occu-
pied the vacant pulpit, and discoursed of Faith ; and,
as the church was draped in mourning for the recent
bereavement, the lesson was enforced with uncommon
effect. The preacher followed his manuscript until
near the close of his sermon, wdien, summoning the
event of the hour for illustration, he left his notes and
abandoned himself to his theme; then .his deep rich
voice was full of emotion and had a pathos and power
which thrilled the large and breathless assembly. It
was eloquence, for it was inspiration of soul." This
eloquent young man was Edwin H. Chapin. So eager
were Abel Tomkins and others to listen to the charm
and power of his voice and to feel the magnetic sway* of
his soul, the fame of whicli had arrived in advance, that
even in the midst of their sorrow, when silence and
meditation would have been the more natural, they
were moved to call an extra meeting and solicit a ser-
mon from the Eichmond pastor.

He gave his consent to preach. The evening brought
a full church. But the demand of the hour was special,
since the great shadow was still resting on the people,
and every heart was in such a tender mood that no vio-
lence should be done to it. Only in the spirit of the
day could an evening service be fitly made ; but if thus
made, having the emphasis of the previous service in
its favor, it could not fail of a marked effect. By both
instinct and judgment the preacher struck the true key-
note for the hour, and made a music that comforted
and cheered the souls who listened to it. If the strain
rose to majesty, it also fell to the tenderest pathos. By
his strong and vivid treatment of Faith, and especially

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 81

by turning the far-shining beams of this divine light on
the glorified form of their late pastor and friend, he
filled his hearers with a comfort and peace which were
only equalled by their gratitude and admiration.

It was thus in a chance hour that he won a vacant
pulpit, in which, with the elder King as his predecessor
and the younger King as his successor, it was an honor
to stand.

But the place he had won he did not occupy until
the December of the following year, fifteen months
from the date of his first sermon. The overture of the
parish, made with little delay and great emphasis, was
readily accepted by his heart, but did not draw his
conscience into a prompt consent. He would deal hon-
orably by Eichmond. He was less the servant of in-
clination than of duty. On the 4th of November,
James K. Frothingham, " chairman of the Committee of
the Universalist Society in Charlestown," addressed
him m these terms : —

"Many of our members, who heard your discourse on the
evening after the funeral of our late Rev. Bro. King, have ex-
pressed a desire of hearing you again and of becoming better
acquainted with you ; and the committee have instructed me
to communicate this to you Avith a view of learning wliether
your situation and engagements will admit of your visiting
us and preaching to us several Sundays, — and, if so, how early
and for what length of time, — hoping that a better acquain-
tance with each other may be the means of establishing a
more intimate relation between us."

Seven days later Chapin replied from Eichmond :
" I will visit you as proposed, if practicable, in the
month of January. It is, however, doubtful whether I

6

82 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPINT.

shall be able to do so. As I am situated at some dis-
tance from any ministering brother, there will be some
difficulty in making an arrangement by which I can
supply iny pulpit during my absence, and unless I can,
I shall be unable to leave."

On the first of January he found liimself in the midst
of a course of Lectures to Young Men, which had
awakened great interest and drawn a crowd of young
people to hear them. He now felt the pressvire on him
of a duty on behalf of the public. A flowing tide he
would not permit to ebb. Hence he wrote to the
friends in Charlestown to " Set me down for the first
three Sundays in February, and expect me this time to
fulfil my appointment, unless I am disappointed in my
reasonable expectation of obtaining a supply. I hope
your patience will not be wearied by this postponement.
In your goodly land of ministers, you can hardly realize
the difficulties which attend the catclmig of a stray one
m this isolated region."

On the first of February he arrived in Charlestown,
having arranged for three Sundays' absence from his
home. The fame of his Lectures to Youns Men
had created a desire on the part of the Charlestown
friends to hear them ; and it was finally decided that
he should give three of them on the Sunday evenings
and the remaining three on the Thursday evenings of
his stay in the city. In thought these lectures were
brilliant as cut diamonds, in sentiment they were noble
and elevating, in rhetoric they were remarkable, and in
the fervor and force with which they were delivered they
were truly majestic. No such eloquence had ever been
heard in that ancient pulpit. But the people were not

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 83

more thrilled by them, than were they astonished that
they could be the production of one so young. But,
meanwhile, his more ordinary sermons had struck the
deeper and more spiritual chords of the soul ; and like
his distant ancestor, Deacon Samuel Chapin, the emi-
nent Puritan, he had proved himself to be " exceeding
moving in prayer." Under the devout magic of his
voice the passages he read from the Word of God re-
vealed their deepest secrets, and to the oft heard hymns
he gave a strange newness. By a most skilful manage-
ment of emphasis and by fitness of feelmg he made the
successive pictures of thought to stand out in strong
relief ; and many a one said, " Xever did I hear such
reading before ! "

In the young man the leaders of the parish, men of
culture and discrimination, saw a rare nobility of soul,
an unusual insight and power of mind, and the signs of
a coming greatness as a pulpit orator which would
place him among the few who, like Chrysostom the
golden-mouthed, and Bossuet and Chalmers and Chan-
ning, had made eloquence the eminent servant of the
Church and of the highest human interests. And all
the more to his credit was it, in their estimation, that
he bore his gifts so modestly, and was an ardent seeker
after new sources of power, through a larger help from
God, a deeper and wider fellowship with Christ, a
closer sympathy with humanity, and a better acquain-
tance with literature.

On the evening of the 23d of February the parish met
in full force and in a spirit of unusual enthusiasm, and

"Resolved: That in the belief that Eev. E. H. Chapin will
prove faithful to the cause of his Master, that he will shun

84 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

not to declare the whole counsel of God, and that he is gifted
with ability to declare the Glad Tidings of the Gospel in
demonstration of the spirit and of power, we hereby extend
to him a frank, cordial, and unanimous invitation to assume
the pastoral charge of this Society."

To the hearty and flattering overture thus made
to him, he was in a mood to give a prompt and
eager acceptance; but his sense of duty to 'the cause
in Eichmond checked his response. Toward the flock
he had gathered and loved, he felt the responsibility of
a shepherd. If they had learned to love his voice,
calling them to the green pastures of the kingdom, so
had he an affection for them and a pride in their enthu-
siasm, as well as a feelmg of obligation. Hence his re-
ply, while it clearly revealed his desire, frankly stated
the possible obstruction that might stand in the way of
its realization, namely, the failure to secure a successor
in his pulpit. The correspondence now took the form
of urging and impatience on the one side, and of an
unwilling but conscientious hesitation on the other.
On the 2d of May he answered a personal appeal from
Eichard Frothingham, Jr. in these words : " I think the
horizon of promise is now quite clear, and that the
prospect that I shall settle with you is fast brightening.
There is only one if, and that is, if we can get a minis-
ter here." In September the situation had not changed,
save from a less to a greater impatience on both
sides. On the 8th of the month he again wrote to
Mr. Frothingham, showing a little restiveness under
the rumors that had gone abroad that he had agreed
to settle in Cliarlestown and was disregarding his
aiireement : —

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 85

" I believe I have always, iu my communications to your
society, stated that my settlement iu Charlestown was contin-
gent, depending on my procuring a preachei* for the society
in Richmond. Is it not so 1 I should be sorr}'^ to have any
misunderstanding arise, or to be guilty of anything that
might look like a breach of promise on my part. I have
used efforts to obtain a preacher for my society, and as yet
have failed, although I am not without hopes. Should I
make every reasonable endeavor and fail, 1 had supposed it
was understood that I remain iu Virginia. I merely make
this statement as showing my impressions upon the subject,
and not as implying that I have given up the idea of going
to Charlestown — no, not by any means."

During the fall a decision was reached, and the
first Sunday in December was set apart for the be-
ginning of his ministry in Charlestown. But there
came another halt in the progress of events. This time
nature interposed and held the young minister amid the
snowdrifts of New Jersey. On Monday, the 7th of
December, he wrote from New York as follows : " An-
other disappointment ! but I think a justifiable one.
Here I am. The snow blocked the cars in New Jer-
sey, and made them six hours later than usual; but
had I arrived here I should have been worse off
than I am now, for the boat that left here Saturday
afternoon only got twenty miles on her route and then
put in."

But the blockaded pastor-elect, having sermons but
no pulpit, either made himself known to, or was discov-
ered by, a Universalist, who was one of a little group
of believers who had formed the nucleus of a society.
Tlie result was a morning' and evening service on Sun-

86 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

day by Mr. Oliapin, in whicli he edified and astonished
his hearers. Their hearts were warmed and thrilled,
and on their memory was made an indelible impres-
sion. And it was to the future parish, of which these
few hearers were the nucleus, that Mr. Chapin was
destined to mmister for thirty-two years. At the
twenty-fifth anniversary of that ministry, amid a vast
throng of people tumultuous with their greetings, A. A.
Peterson, Esq., referred to the "cool reception given him
by the violent northeast snow-storm," on the occasion
of his missing the Boston boat and failing to appear in
his Charlestown pulpit.

But even now the path to the office he had accepted
did not appear to him quite clear of obstacles, and he
was not sure that, although he had arrived in Charles-
town, he should reach the pulpit and the pastorate
that stood so near to him. It was another case of con-
science. In that day of the textual defence of Univer-
salism, he felt that to doubt the explicitness of the
Scripture proofs of the doctrine would, especially in
New England, be regarded as a defect or short-coming
so grave as to debar him from the ministry there ; and
such a doubt had a few months before come over him.
He saw at a glance that he could not adopt the method of
a Ballon or a Streeter in his defence of Universalism ;
and he felt that so great might be the popularity
of that method among the Charlestown people that
he would not be welcome unless he came with the
cherished armor buckled on and burnished for the
battle. In the following letter he frankly confessed
his doubt, and placed himself at the disposal of the
parish : —

MIXTSTEY IN CHAKLESTOWX. 87

Richmond, Va., November 27, 1840.

Brethren, — The time is near at hand when it is contem-
plated that I shall assume the pastoral charge of your Societj\
To you, I doubt not, the prospect of a regular ministration of
the Word is looked forward to with much joy. To me, the
hope of a connection with you in all those dear bonds that
unite a pastor and his people gives deep satisfaction. You
have been, my brethren, long deprived of a settled minister,
and when I consider the time which you have waited for me,
the good preparation you have made for my coming, the
kindness with which you treated me on my visit to you, I
should be ungrateful and unjust indeed did I not hnd my
heart full of warm and sincere thanks. I have, my brethren,
an important matter now to communicate to you, which has
been purposely delayed until this time for reasons given be-
low, and which I wish you to receive and ponder in the
same spirit of love and candor as that in which it is given.

It is but right that a people who are about to settle a pas-
tor should know precisely the position which he occupies
among the many sects of the Christian world — should know
precisely his theological views. I am not one to keep mine
back, or to be afraid to speak them, whatever unpopularity,
hatred, or scorn may follow the announcement. About the
fore part of last August I found my views in relation to the
great question of human salvation assuming the following
form. While I do most truly consider the doctrine of Uni-
versal Restoration as the most consistent with the best results
of reason, with all our conceptions of the Divine Character, and
with the spirit of Scripture, I do not see it so clearly revealed
in the Bible as that I should feel justified in pronouncing it
a plain unequivocal doctrine of the Gospel. Understand me.
I believe that it can be deduced from Scripture by collateral
arguments and by irresistible inferences ; but the texts that
are relied upon as unequivocally teaching it are to me not so

88 LIKE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

satisfactory as I wisli they Were. As to the doctrine of end-
less misery I most surely reject it, as I never was more firm
in my convictions of its inconsistency with the benevolent
sjiirit of Christ and the attributes of God, and I believe that
the most rational and consistent doctrine is that of the Uni-
versal Salvation of the human family from sin and death.
My reason assents to it, my analogical experience supports
it, my philosophy feels its truth, my deductions from the
Bible are on its side. If all men are raised from the dead,
as the Gospel says they shall be, it appears to me conclusive
that all shall be saved. If I could find in the Bible the
doctrine that some would never rise from the dead, I should
view it as the only faith that could stand by the side of the
doctrine of the Restitution. But I cannot find this doctrine
there ; and I am led to the conclusion expressed above, that
the most probable, the most consistent faith, is the faith of
Universal Restoration.

There are texts in the Epistles of Paul that lean strongly
to the Universalist interpretation, yet they can have other
meanings, or at least other meanings can be so plainly de-
fended as to leave my mind in doubt as to what is their true
interpretation. There is another class of texts, which are
adduced as supporting the Universalist interpretation, that I
deem local and limited in their application. But I do not
purpose hero to discuss the reasons for my present doubt ;
more examination, very possibly, may cause me to see with
that clear light which my brethren possess. This is the im-
portant point, brethren, which I wished to communicate to
you. As to my other views, they are in accordance with
yours. I reject the doctrine of the trinity, of a vicarious
sacrifice to appease the wrath of God, of total depravity,
original sin, etc. etc.

With these, as I have said, I reject the doctrine of endless
misery, annihilation, etc. With my other views, my reason

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 89

and my hope, bound together with golden cords of scriptural
teaching, hold the sublime and beautiful doctrine of Uni-
versal Salvation.

Now brethren, you have a right to demand of me why
this was not made known before.

This is my answer. As I have said, it was not until the
fore part of last August, about the time of my last visit to
the North, that I found my views settling in this form. I
had no intention of imposing myself upon any man, or set
of men, with a mask on. This is what I cannot do. I hold
it to be the right of any man to have, when he doubts, the
benefit of investigation, and that he is not bound to disclose
to the loud-mouthed and exaggerating public every shadow
of opinion that falls athwart liis mind. Had I remained
with the society here I should probably have announced my
views ere this ; as it is, I Iiave reserved this announcement
until now. My brethren, Avere there such a state of things
as I would see in the Christian Church, when the pastor
should be sought, not for tlie precise doctrinal views he
might hold, but for his capacity to feed the intellectual and
religious wants of his hearers, and to minister to them in joy
and sorrow, in life and death, I should feel that this state-
ment would not be required of me.

My capacity you have already passed upon ; such as it is,
should you see fit to settle me, it shall be devoted to the great
cause of God and humanity — of Liberal Christianity — of the
religion of love, and not of fear. My sermons have dwelt
but little upon the points of doctrine. I have labored more
for spiritual advancement, for moral and intellectual progress,
than for sects or parties. The character of my preaching will
be the same as ever. If under these considerations you
see fit to settle me, I am ready. If not, I can but acknowl-
edge that you will do me no injustice. I know that your
society is an Independent one. I viean to be an Indepen-

90 ' LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

dent preacher. Act, brethren, not so much for me, as for
your own interests and your duty. I leave here next Wed-
nesday (the 1st December) and shall be in Boston, if nothing
occurs to prevent, on Saturday morning the 4th, prepared,
should you see fit, to fulfil ray appointment for the following
Sunday.

God's blessing be on you all, and may He guide you in
your deliberations is the prayer of your grateful brother,

E. H. CHAPIN.

In this case of conscience the parish saw no case
whatever, and returned the prompt reply : " We are
ready to receive you most cordially as our pastor," As
they would not turn against the sun on the score that
a spot, " a wandering isle of night," moved over its
broad bright disc, no more would they reject on so
slight a discount so complete a disciple of the broad-
est faith. In this reply we have, without doubt, the
thoughts and words of Eichard Frothingham, Jr., since
it is signed by his name " in behalf of the Society ; "
and in the closing paragraph is reflected a regard for
the freedom of the pulpit which is worthy of this
patriot and historian, and which would be a true glory
and source of progress if held by the Church gener-
ally. " We would have our minister ' an Independent
Preacher;' one who would not be bounded by creed or
sect ; one who would yield to no dictation but that of
his own conscience; one who would make Duty his
principle of action, and Truth his guiding star ; one
who would stand ready to reflect whatever of new light
he may receive, upon the people of his charge. Eob-
inson, two centuries ago, charged his people never to
be afraid to receive new truth from God's Word.

MINISTRY IN CHAULESTOWN. 91

Shall we refuse to accept a liberty that is two centu-
ries old ?"

On the Second Sunday of December Chapin entered
the Charlestown pulpit as preacher and pastor, and
greeted the people who had waited fifteen months for
his coming. But their patience they never regretted,
so amply was it rewarded by a ministry at once rich in
thought, consecrated in spirit, unequalled in the elo-
quence of its proclamations, fertile of personal friend-
ships, and prosperous in the more outward offices of
adding greatly to the numbers and revenues of the
parish.

His Installation occurred on the 23d of December, in
the presence of a large and happy congregation. On
the service the Eev. Thomas Whittemore invoked the
divine blessing. Eev. Benjamin Whittemore read se-
lections from the Bible. Eev. Otis A. Skinner preached
a sermon. Eev. Hosea Ballou offered the Installing
Prayer. Eev. Hosea Ballou 2d gave the Charge to the
new pastor, and put a copy of the Bible in his hand as
the true light of his life and the guide of his preaching.
The Fellowship of the churches was pledged by Eev.
Henry Bacon. The society was addressed and coun-
selled by Eev. Sebastian Streeter. The Eev. E. G.
Brooks concluded tlie service by returning thanks for
the hour, its high interests and its cheering hopes.

From these memorable hands the young minister
took the Ark of the Covenant, and for five years he
bore it in and out before this people in sacred fidelity
to his vow. In the life of Chapin they were years of
great activities and developments, of great triumphs
and flattering prospects, of high lights and deep shad-

92 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

0W8, of grand marches on radiant mounts and of pen-
sive walks in the deep vales. Of all the years of his
life they w^ere perhaps the most plastic and formative ;
and, while the ore of his being was thus at its whitest
heat, it was brought under the most favorable pres-
sures. He had come to the best school the country
could offer him, a school truly polytechnic and with
competent teachers ; and he came in the true humility
and ambition of a pupil. Far more than Charlestown
needed him, he needed Charlestown ; and since his ful-
ness, from wdiich he gave, was not equal to the void in
his being which he hastened to fill, it must in truth be
confessed that he conferred, however great were his
bestowments, less than he received.

In another chapter his relation to the Eeforms will
be treated; but it must be said here that it was in
"Charlestown he budded and flowered and bore signal
fruit as a Reformer. He had come from the South in a
state of indifference, at least, toward the causes which
were then agitated in the North, such as temperance,
anti-slavery, anti-capital punishment, and a universal
brotherhood. By nature . he clearly belonged with the
reformers, for his heart was broad as the all-encircling
sky, and his moral sense keenly alive to the distinctions
of right and wrong and of good and evil; with the
very elect in humane offices he had a birthright
place; but in Eichmond circumstances had not con-
spired to draw his thoughts and lure his heart in this
direction, as tliere was a time when Wilberforce was to
be found in the social clubs and not in the reform
leagues, and when Clarkson had not pledged his will
to the setting free of the oppressed. All the reformers

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 93

have waited for the clock of tmie to strike the favored
hour in which they should awake from sleep and an-
swer the morning drum-beat calling to a change of base
and a new form of warfare. For Clarkson that hour
was struck at college, where he joined the contestants
for a prize-essay on the theme : "Is involuntary servi-
tude justifiable ? " It was while journeying on the
Continent with his Christian friend, the Eev. Isaac
Milner, that the call to be a reformer fell on the ear of
Wilberforce, And so for Chapin was sounded the note
of appeal as he passed into the atmosphere of Charles-
town and New England, — an air hot with the breath
of agitation, and resounding with the voices of Garrison
and Parker, Pierpont and Gough, Horace Mann, Charles
Spear, and their compeers. At once the young minis-
ter mounted all the platforms, and was everywhere in
demand as the orator of the reforms.

But if a new trumpet tone, a clarion note of agitation,
was here drawn from his being, so also was a new minor
chord touched in his soul, and often heard in his preach-
ing. Here he fell under his first great sorrow, in the
death of his first-born, Edward Channing Chapin. His
early hope in the child, indicated by the gift of its mid-
dle name, seemed to be happily confirmed as month by
month the young life unfolded. " Little Eddie," writes
Ptev. J. H. Farnsworth, then residing with the Chapins,
"was the brightest and sweetest of children, and the
light of the house." In one of his letters from Ptich-
mond to Eichard Frothingham, Jr., the father proudly
sent "greetings from my infant Eddie." The advent of
this child had opened a great fountain of affection in the
young minister toward all children, as well as for this

9-i LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

one he called his own ; and in a new light he saw their
little joys and sorrows. " The child's grief," he said,
" throbs against the round of its little heart as heavily
as the man's sorrow ; and the one finds as much delight
in his kite or dream as the other in striking the springs
of enterprise or soaring on the wings of fame."

But when the fatal shadow lowered over his cherished
boy,

" All his liopes were changed to fears,
And all his thoughts ran into tears
Like sunshine into raiu ! "

Like the reed to the sweep of the tide, his stout and
buoyant heart bowed under the grief. From this time
on there was, however, a tenderer and sweeter strain in
his sermons, a more subdued and trustful note in his
prayers, than had been heard in them before. From the
radiance of Christian hope the cloud soon took a silver
edge, and he preached a memorable discourse on the
" Mission of Little Children." And directly there came
other pathetic and solacing sermons to join this, as in
the evening sky one star after another comes forth to
light the shaded scene. Into the volume entitled " The
Crown of Thorns," these pensive, prose lyrics were
gathered, and many are the readers they have com-
forted. With this first sorrow, it is very evident, a new
and finer influence dawned in Chapin's ministry, and
never faded from it. Only from the heart does the voice
take its tones, and his acquired from this experience a
touch of pathos that ever gave it a higher power.

At this period another tendency began to make its
appearance, which proved at once a good and an evil, a
source of applause and of reproach, and which, no doubt.

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 95

led to the first break in his health. It was a tendency
to an undue absorption or engrossment in the theme
that occupied him. Toward a single point the currents
of his life naturally converged and rushed. His ardent
and intense temperament exposed him to this excess of
concentration ; and his tasks had now so multiplied
that he could accomplish them only by becoming lost
in them, as it were. To meet the demands made on
him required an oblivion of much that might well have
engaged his thoughts and feelings. Considering his
age, still under thirty, the demand upon him was simply
enormous. Aside from the calls of his parish, the gen-
eral public clamored for ,his eloqiience. The lyceums
must have him to give prestige to their courses. The
Odd Fellows claimed him on all their festive occasions.
The friends of temperance knew full well the value of
his voice as an aid in their work, and made constant
and urgent appeals for his presence on their platforms.
At installations and ordinations he was frequently called
upon to be the preacher. At college Commencements
his oratory must be heard. Of the Massachusetts Legis-
lature he was elected chaplain. Of the State Board of
Education he was appointed a member. Before the
Governor and Council he was called to preach the Elec-
tion Sermon. In fact, the imposed tasks became so
numerous and miportant that he could only make ready
for them and discharge them by a sort of concentrated
vehemence. At the peril of his health and the risk of
neglecting social demands and duties, he permitted him-
self for a time, quite in accord with the ardent genius
of his nature and his love of serving, to pass mto these
self-centered and frenzied toils.

96 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

While great good was thus accomplished for the many
causes he had espoused, and his oratorical fame was en-
hanced, there began to appear other results, which were
regarded with anxiety. The superb machine began to be
rent by its own activity. His exaltations were followed
by depressions equally marked. He who was so radiant
and meteor-like became often a darkened orb. With
the mainspring of his life half broken at times, it was
the serene and strong will of his wife that buoyed him
up and bore him on. The great enthusiast, swept on by
torrents of impulse, had his hours when he needed to be
cheered and urged ; and in these seasons Mrs. Chapin
was both a wisdom and a magnetism.

At length liis mind showed signs of weariness and dis-
inclination to work, and he asked for and was granted a
season of rest. In his note of request he wrote that, " with-
out laboring under any specific bodily complaint, I find
myself unfitted for the mental action and labors of my
office, and by eminent medical counsel I have been ad-
vised to suspend for a short time my pulpit and paro-
chial duties, and avail myself of the benefits of a journey."
From this season of recreation he returned greatly im-
proved, and resolved to better observe the laws of bodily
and mental health. The following item was soon pub-
lished in the " Trumpet " by Eev. Thomas Whittemore :
" Brother E. H. Chapin, having come to the conclusion
that duty to himself will require him to discontinue the
delivery of promiscuous lectures and addresses in differ-
ent places, requests me to give public notice to that effect
to save himself and others the trouble of writing letters."
But the wise resolution was easier made than kept. In
each case where there was need of eloquence, the people

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 97

saw a special reason why Chapin should be heard ; and
so prone was his lieart to serve, it was easy to make
it appear to him that it was even so. Under a kindled
impulse he would often answer with a Yes when a
little later, his reason would dictate a negative ; hut
conscience would compel him to keep his promise, be
the peril in so doing whatever it might be. And so the
tide of his oratory rolled on, sweeping the crowds along
w^ith it.

But it was not only at the cost of the best conditions
of mind and body that he permitted himself to be swept
thus into rapt engrossments, but it was also at the sacri-
fice of ideal social bearings. He began to meet people
as if he met them not ; even toward his best friends he
wore at times an air of indifference. Lost in his moods
of exalted musing and enthusiasm, which approached
the morbid in degree, he took on at times an air of
social coldness, and almost of social aversion, when his
heart, back of the inner commotion that possessed him,
was warm and kind as ever, and incapable of a real
discourtesy. He was the victim of his moods. It is
the testimony of Professor Tweed, than whom he never
had a more admiring parishioner and cordial friend,
— their common gravity and wit aiding their hearts to
a happier fellowship, — that he has often had Chapin
meet him at one hour of the day as a boon companion,
and at another hour, as a stranger meets a stranger. It
could but happen that they who understood him not
should mistake this self-engrossment for social neglect,
and lay at his feet the charge of violating the law of
good society.

But this self-centering habit, a confessed misfortune,
7

98 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

also involved him in some felicitous blunders, over
wliicli lie and his friends had many a hearty laugh.
Thus one Monday morning he took a horse and chaise
from a Charlestown livery stable and drove to the
" Trumpet " office in Boston, where he spent, as was his
wont, a little time in converse with the ministers of his
sect who had assembled there ; but he did not observe
his turnout sufficiently to identify it. Even the color
of his horse he did not fix in mind, and could not have
told probably, when out of sight of it, wdiether his vehi-
cle had two or four wheels. From a brief and mipetuous
visit in the office before which his carriage stood, he
hastened up the street to visit a bookstore and make a
purchase. Here his oblivion of outward circumstances
took on a yet more intense degree. He became lost in
a book or a theme ; and when he left the store, he
mounted the first carriage he came to and drove home,
enjoying by the way, no doubt, some eloquent ecstasy.
On arriving at the stable the proprietor, observing and
smiling at his plight, remarked that lie hoped Mr.
Chapin had proved a good jockey, and brought home a
round sum of money for boot as his end of the bargain
of swapping teams. For a worn out and shabby car-
riage he had exchanged a stylish one, and for a value-
less horse he had parted with a fine steed of another
color. In due time his mistake was happily rectified,
and was richly enjoyed all round.

About the same time, while absent from his home,
he carelessly put on his short body a very tall man's
coat instead of his own, and, looking like a man in a
train, came home thus attired. These innocent tahcs
w^ere exceedingly' enjoyed by his humorous friend Dr.

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 99

Ballon, later the honored president of Tufts College,
who referred to them in a rollicking poem entitled
" The Pilgrimage of Childe Edwin (Edwin H. Chapin)
and Childe Cyrus (Cyrus H. Fay). A Romaunt. In
two Cantos." The Pilgrimage was a four-mile walk,
in darkness and mud, from the home of Dr. Ballon in
Medford to the nearest omnibus stand from which a
ride mto Boston could be obtained. The two pilgrims
had reached the railroad station too late for the last
train to the city. With a formal invocation of the
" Muse of Fifery " the sage Doctor began his poem, and
introduced his heroes in the second stanza : —

" There were two rude and graceless imps of sin
Who served the Devil, their Dad, with all their might ;
(Ah me ! the wicked pranks thej' gloried in !)
Childe Edwin this, and that Childe Cyrus hight.
Were horse and chaise left fastened in his sight,
Childe Edwin stole them straight in open day ;
Or, bolting into houses, he would diglit
Himself in pilfered coats, and then away
Swift through the country in his harlecjuiu array."

In a mood of similar abstraction he was one day
passing the office of a prominent lawyer and politician
of the city, a stranger to him, but who had a strong cu-
riosity to meet him. Ptichard Frothingham, Jr., being in
the office at the time, hailed his pastor and called him
in, and introduced him to the lawyer. But the great
preacher was incommunicative. His mind was so busy
in its own realm as to take little note of his present
relations, and while occupying his seat he began mus-
ingly to punch the broken plastering on the wall with
his cane. After a season of manifest failure with
his tongue and conspicuous success with his staff, he

100 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

arose and excused himself, and moved on liis way. " He
is an odd genius," said the lawyer, " but I must hear him
preach." The next Sunday, taking a seat with Mr.
Frothingham, he was thrilled by the outbursts of elo-
quence from the pulpit. The man who had impressed
him by his strange reticence had now overpowered him
by his marvellous speech, and he hardly knew whether
he were in the body or out. xVt the close of the service
he was asked how he liked Mr. Chapin. " Like him ? "
was his reply, " If he will preach like that he may
punch my old office all to pieces ! "

In the terse and quaint Scotch style of Eev. A. G.
Laurie, an intimate friend of all the parties named, an
amusing sketch of Chapin's ardor is furnished : —

Dr. Ballou, — clarum et venei-ahile nomen, — Starr King,
and Chapin were climbing one of the White Mountains.
Quietly climbed the Doctor ; vehemently Chapin ; and, quiz-
zically observant of the showings of their two opposite tem-
peraments, after them loitered Starr. At every coigne of
vantage paused the Doctor, took in effect of liglit and shade,
and with sigh of satisfaction took np a new point of view.
Deliberately drank he in the glories, to be settled in his mind
forever. Just as lasting afterwards was their impression on
Chapin's mind, but at first lie swallowed them at a gulp.
Then ever on to some new headland clomb he, with a cry
thrown over his shoulder, " Come on. Doctor, come on." Pa-
tiently for long forbore the Doctor ; for how be loved Chapin,
and how Chapin loved him ! But at last his irritation and
his sense of its comicality broke out together, and as Chapin
nudged him to " on, on, on," with his hand on Chapin's
shoulder he stayed the impetuous, and, full in his face, said :
" Chapin, when you go up to Heaven, and get inside the gate,
you 'U seize the arm of the receiving angel and cry, ' Here,

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 101

see, come now, what have you got to show a fellow 1 ' And,
taking in the view in a twinkling, you '11 shag him forward
to another point, and cry, ' Xow, now, what next 1 what next 1 '
And with that ' What next ' you '11 hurry through all eternity."
Then pealed Starr King ; and, recognizing the truthfulness of
the Doctor's take-otf of himself, shouted aloud among the
hills the victim and the hero of the joke, while softly and
soundlessly smiled the Doctor. Characteristic, I think, is the
anecdote of the good-tempered cynicism of Starr King, of the
placid humor and fun of Dr. Ballou, and of the energy, the
impetuosity, tlie glorious hoisterousness of Chapin !

Among the honors that were conferred on Chapin by
his Charlestown friends, and that he took to his heart,
was the giving of his name to a ship by a formal ser-
vice. A Mr. Gondolpho, a Spaniard and a Eoman
Catholic, seeking a church of liis faith, entered by mis-
take the Universalist Church, but was so well pleased
that he came again and again, and at length took seats
as a regular attendant. Very soon his admiration for
the eloquent minister ripened into esteem and friend-
ship. From a poor man he became a rich one, and
entered into business at Mobile, Alabama. At the
North a vessel had been built for him, and he honored
his former pastor by giving it his name. The following
account of the ceremonial of christening the craft is
taken from the "Trumpet and Universalist ]Magazine:"

The ship (or more correctly the barque) E. H. Chapin
was the scene of a very interesting service on Wednesday of
last week. She then lay at Lewis Wharf in Boston. By the
invitation of her owner, James Gondolpho, Esq., of Mobile, a
large company of ladies and gentlemen assembled iu her ele-
gant cabins by eleven o'clock. At twelve precisely the com-

102 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

pany was called together on the promenade deck, under a
beautiful awning, when a very fervent prayer was offered by
Eev. 0. A. Skinner of Boston. Mr. Chapin was then intro-
duced to the audience. He said he felt himself peculiarly
situated. His own name, aa a compliment to himself, had
been given to this vessel. He was thankful for so high a
mark of respect. He then went on to speak of the dangers
and vicissitudes of the sea, and said that we who dwell upon
the land think too little of the wonders, sublimities, and
beauties of the sea, and the dangers, privations and trials of
those who do business thereon. He spoke of the advantages
of the great commerce of the ocean, how it brought distant
nations, as it were, together, and linked tliem to each other
more strongly than if it were done with hooks of steel. His
mind having been drawn to this subject, he should henceforth
take a deeper interest in what appertained to the mighty deep.
It was the custom, he said, when an individual had been
honored by having a vessel called by his name, for him to
present her with a set of colors. For obvious reasons he
asked to be excused from the customary presentation, but he
begged leave to present to the vessel a copy of the Holy
Scriptures. Here he laid an elegantly gilt copy of the Bible,
properly inscribed, upon the burnished head of the capstan.
This was more than a suit of colors. It was chart and com-
pass. He recommended it to the attention of the officers,
passengers, and crew. He showed how true a guide it was in
sailing over the stormy ocean of human life.

As in his editorial work at Utica and in his ministry
at Eiclimond, so in his spirit and preaching at Charles-
town, Chapin was tlie broad-churchman. An undoubt-
ing Universahst, he still sought a wider fellowship, and
urged mainly the principles and sentiments of the Gos-
pels which are held in common by all the sects. His

MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 103

attitude is well set forth in a single period from the pre-
face to a vokime of his sermons publislied at that time :
" The great principle to be propagated and established in
the souls of all men is not this or that particular ism, but
the Spii'it of Christ." The idea of the unity of faith
was most congenial to him ; and whenever and wherever
that idea was set forward it kindled him like an electric
spark, and his eloquence became easy and fervid. An
exceptionally stirring speech, remembered to this day
by some who heard it, was thus generated in one of
his conference meetings. A Methodist from the State
of Maine, a plain farmer, was in the meeting and had
enjoyed it. At length he rose, and, making himself
known, said, among other things : " I was one day sitting
on a loCT with mv Universalist neighbor, and I said to
him, ' Suppose, neighbor, we try and see how much alike
we are in religion, and not how we differ ; ' and I must
tell you we were pretty much one after all." By this
little homely touch of a great fact, Chapin was swiftly
exalted into one of his most impassioned moods of elo-
quence, and thrilled the little company around him as it
had rarely been stirred before by human speech. " The
effort was magnificent," are the terms by which Eev.
Mr. Farnsworth, who heard it, describes it. The little
spark from the Methodist's heart kindled a flame m his
own soul.

At Charlestown Mr. Chapin's salary, fourteen hundred
dollars, although reasonably large for the tune, was not
equal to his fame nor to his expenditures. Every ap-
peal to his generosity he met with an open hand. The
aged artist, his father, was now almost wholly dependent
on him, and had his needs met with a fiHal liberality.

104 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The young minister, living in this more literary realm,
had acquired a miserly greed for books, and those of the
rarest and costliest type, and through the ardent and
blind impulse of the moment he made debts which ou
the morrow he could not easily meet ; but generous
friends came to his aid, and sheltered him from the
shower of unmet obligations. Meanwhile larger salaries
were offered him in New York and Boston, which, with
the wider fields of influence thus opened to him, lured
him with a sway he could but feel and confess, and
which, in the light of duty, he came to regard with favor.
He accordingly accepted an invitation from the School
Street Church in Boston, and became colleague wdth
Eev. Hosea Ballon, at a salary of two thousand dollars.
The following letter of resignation needs no com-
ments : —

Charlestown, November, 1, 1845.

Brethren, — After, I trust, due deliberation, I liave con-
cluded to ask of you a diss(jlution of our present connection,
in order tliat I may be at liberty to accept a call which I
have received from the Second Universalist Society in Boston.
I therefore now respectfully tender to you my resignation of
my office as Pastor of your society — the connection to close
at such a time as you may indicate.

Thus much formally. But, bretln-en, a connection of
almost five years cannot he coldly broken. The conclusion
at wliich I have now arrived fills me with emotion, and I
should do injustice to myself and to you did I not say
so. Those five years exist with all their vicissitudes and
their results, and they can never be obliterated from my
memory. The kindness and indulgence Avhich I have ex-
perienced at your hands, the acquaintances I liave formed,
the seasons of communion we have had together, the words

MINISTRY IN CHAELESTOWN. 105

which I have spoken and you have heard, and all the facts
and ojjportunities of my ministry among you, have estab-
lished a relation between us which cannot be broken by any
changes. The connection between pastor and people is only
excelled in nearness by that of the family ; and I now
l^en the words which, on my part, dissolve that connection
with sad and px-ayerful emotion. But though I shall soon
cease to break unto you the Bread of Life as your settled
Pastor, as tlie Preacher and the Friend I shall always enter
your pulpit and your houses as coming hotne, and shall always
feel that you are still mt/ people.

I trust, brethren, that in forming my decision I have not
acted with an eye merely to my own interests, I have not
been, nay, I am not now without some fears tliat my leaving
you may be injurious to the interests of your society ; but
I have reason, on the whole to believe it will not prove a
permanent injury. I trust you will soon find a Pastor upon
whom you Avill unite, and who will advance your temporal
and spiritual interests. For your welfare in these respects I
do now and shall ever earnestly pray. Commending you to
God for guidance, blessing, and all needed good, I subscribe
myself,

Yours Fraternally,

E. H. CHAPIK

In its reply to this decisive but cordial letter, the so-
ciety with regret accepted the situation, and returned a
not less kindly reply. The following extract from its
communication will be read with interest : —

After a connection of almost five years, we cannot contem-
plate a separation without painful emotion. They have been
years of harmony and prosperity with us as a society, and of
uninterrupted friendship as individuals, in which you have
been very near to us in our joys and our sorrows, and have

106 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

touched our hearts by your powerful Christian appeals. We
feel that this connection has been mutually happy and profit-
able. The past will linger in our memories ; change shall not
alter it, nor time obliterate it. And when as a Preacher you
may enter our pulpit, or as a friend may enter our homes,
be assured you will ever be welcome as one of us.

In the painful act of accepting the resignation you tender,
we find consolation in the thought that you will be en-
gaged in a more extended field, — that labors, so satisfactory
to us, will be extended to brethren of the same faith ; and,
also, that you will still be in our immediate neighborhood,
so that, though the pastoral tie may be severed, yet the
friendly intercourse may continue.

VIII.

MINISTEY IN BOSTOK

The time had come when the venerable Hosea Bal-
lon had filled the measure of his more active ministry
in the School Street Chnrchand Society m Boston. For
years he had gone in and ont before this people, who
honored him for his virtue, admired him for his ability,
and loved him for his devotion to their interests. He
had been one of the great preachers of his time, — strong
in logic, shrewd in the processes of his thought, mipas-
sioned in spirit, mighty in the Scriptures, — and had
converted many thousands to his views m a manner so
signal they could name the date and the place of their
conversion. If the phrase "I was converted to Uni-
versalism by Father Ballon" could come flying from
all the lips which have spoken it to some printer's stand
and be put in type, its repetitions would fill a good
sized volume. But time and toil tell on every life, and
theu" work had been wrought on the stalwart frame
and native vigor of the aged pastor ; and the question
of a colleague came before the parish as one upon which
they must act, alike out of regard tothe need of their
old friend of rest, and of the cause for a more active
servant.

For many reasons the people turned to the Charles-
town minister as their first choice. They had come to

108 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

know the Christian sweetness and ardor of his spirit,
the untiring industry of his brain and hand, the charm
and power of his eloquence; and they felt confident
that eager crowds would press to their ancient temple
on every Sunday if he were the minister in charge.
And to these determining reasons for giving him a call
was added another in the hearts of some of the leading
members, a personal friendship already strong and
sealed with the stamp of time. . Accordingly on the
28th of September, 1845, a unamimous invitation was
extended to him, with an offer of $2,000 as salary, to
settle as colleague with Hosea Ballon.

The invitation was accepted. AVith deep emotions
of sadness, but with a sense of rightness in the act, as
is indicated at the close of the previous chapter, he
withdrew from Charlestown and took up the work in
Boston, and was installed on Wednesday evening, Jan-
uary 26, 1846. On this occasion the Scripture was read
by Rev. T. D. Cook ; the blessing of God invoked by
Bev. A. Hichborn ; the sermon was by Eev. Hasea Bal-
lon ; Installing Prayer, by Rev. Sebastian Streeter ;
Charge, by Rev. Hosea Ballon 2d ; Fellowship of the
churches, by Rev. Otis A. Skinner; Address to the so-
ciety, by Rev. C. H. Fay ; and closing prayer, by Rev.
A. P. Cleverly. At the conclusion of his sermon, the
senior pastor " made a very affectionate and sincere ad-
dress to the candidate in which he invoked on him
great prosperity in his new relation, and assured him of
the faithfulness and integrity of the society in their deal-
ings with him."

His ministry in Boston was brief, reaching through
a period of only two years, and was not marked by

MINISTRY IN BOSTON. 109

anything special in the way of development or incident.
Coming from liichmond to Charlestown, he had made
in the latter place the great advance steps of his life.
Under the shadow of Bunker Hill he caught a new
vision of Liberty, and amid the temperance agitation
of that time he gave his heart to Total Abstinence, and
put his hand to the pledge ; and for these great causes
he became the eloquent advocate. Here also he had
acquired a new and tenderer sentiment in his soul, a
more pathetic tone in his voice, through the discipline
of his first great sorrow — an acquisition as permanent
as his life ; and here his moods of enthusiastic abstrac-
tion, in which his friends even failed to arrest his notice,
became characteristic. And with these developments put
forth, like buds burst into full bloom, he removed to
Boston only to keep the even tenor of his way ; or if any
change came to him, it was merely a change to greater
activity and influence, through the demand imposed by
his growing fame. "Mr. Chapin always seemed in a
hurry," is the way in which one, then a child in his
parish, states her remembrance of him ; and another
says of his pastoral calls : " He came and went," — thus
indicating a marked brevity and haste in his social in-
terviews. In part to his constitutional impetuosity, but
in a larger degree to necessity, must we ascribe this
obvious hurry, for the demand now made on his pen
and voice was almost without limit. As reformer, lec-
turer, and preacher on many special occasions his field
of toil was New England, — his hearers and admirers,
the eager crowds of her population ; while in the nar-
rower sphere of his own pulpit he met on Sundays
enthusiastic throngs, many of whom, hearing him for

110 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the first time, marvelled at the spell his eloquence
wrought oil them. And for all these services his prep-
aration was careful and laborious. Being naturally
timid and distrustful of his powers, he bent every
energy to the work of making ready for the triumphs he
won. Never is the man whose success lies along the
path of sentiment and impulse so sure of himself and of
his goal as the man whose triumph is of the intellect ;
for while the latter may know in advance just how it
will be with him, and hence will quietly make ready for
his task and be at peace, the former can never foretell
his measure of success, and will be nervously anxious
and especially painstaking in advance. Thus was it
with Cliapin. For his many special and ordinary ser-
vices before the public he made a careful and even
solicitous preparation, which left him no time to loiter
by the way and indulge in extended social intercourse.
To the seeming neglect of his friends, he must needs
hastily greet them and pass on.

It is probable that his courage in preaching the re-
forms was never put to a severer test than in the School
Street pulpit. Father Ballon was not a Radical to blaze
an advance path through these kingdoms just then being
newly entered with the daring purpose of conquest, and
to call upon tliose lingering behind to come forward.
The conservatism of his parish was considerable, and he
had not much disturbed it. But Chapin came to the
place with all the enthusiasm of a new-born reformer,
and the prestige of the favorite orator of the reforms,
and made slavery, intemperance, and war the frequent
objects of his rebuke. The pow'er and pungency with
which he treated these themes are set forth in a remi-

MINISTRY IN BOSTON. Ill

niscence by his successor, Dr. Miner, in these words :
" I remember on one occasion, in the suburbs of Boston,
when, after discussing the great waste in a somewhat
more general way occasioned by intemperance, he asked
his auditory to reflect upon the waste that would be
involved in gathering up the cereals of the Common-
wealth, converting them into whiskey, taking the whiskey
down to the end of Long Wharf, knocking in the heads
of the barrels, and spilling the whole into the dock;
and, said he, ' would it be any less a waste if you were
to strain that whislvey through human stomachs and
spoil the strainer.'" To men still bound by the chains
of the old drinking custom, and more or less engaged, it
may be, in the liquor traffic, his outspoken reproofs
bore a pungent sthig, and they grew restive and hos-
tile. But he had the courage of his convictions and
moved calmly on in his radical course, and won not
only a tolerable peace for himself, but the grounds of an
easier victory by the more radical man who came after
him to this field of conflict.

In a manner which drew upon him the anxiety of some
of his brethren, he betrayed at this period the native
catholicity and toleration of his spirit. A fresh wave of
Rationalism, flowing across the ocean from Germany,
was just then sweeping over the American Church, and
bearing away on its fascinating crest one and another of
the clergymen of the various orders. Especially were
Unitarian and Universalist ministers and laymen in-
clined to cast themselves on this flowing tide, and to
try the open sea of reason and intuition, unguided by
any chart of divine authority. The venture was pleas-
ing to a restless and bold but noble order of souls, like a

112 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Theodore Parker, Orestes Bronson, and a Ealph Waldo
Emerson. Against these leaders and their more ob-
scure followers Orthodoxy was everywhere aroused,
and strove to draw them from the tide or drown them
in it. The Universalists had tlieir full share of these
come-outerSj as they were then called, or these en-
tranced wave-riders to deal with ; and with a con-
scientious vigor the leaders of the order set about the
unwelcome task. But Chapin did not take up arms in
the conflict. While not adrift himself on the wide
sea, he still did not break his fellowship with those
who were, but rather conceded they might be sailing
withhi the ch'cle of the Christian horizon, and that
Christ might yet be the pilot on their small boat and
to the little crew. He contended there were various
approaches to the grand haven of Christian experience
and life, and that Parker and the rest might still be
moving in the right direction, even if not employing
the Orthodox compass. Sharing himself a fuller ac-
ceptance of Christ than they did, he was not in favor
of denying to them the Christian name. He evidently
regarded them as within the pale of the Broad Church,
which was to him at that time and ever afterward the
ideal church, and felt they were to be met and associat-
ed with m the name and spirit of Christian fellowship.
This attitude affected not his relations with his more
exacting brethren, beyond awakening in them the sense
that he was more tolerant than logical.

During his Charlestown ministry he had been twice
invited and urged to settle in New York City. The
Fourth and the Orchard Street societies entered iuto a
generous rivalry to secure the young minister, but the
Charlestown remonstrance prevailed against them.

MINISTRY IN BOSTON. 113

But now the voice of appeal came once more from the
Fourth Society, a young and growmg and ambitious
assemblage of thrifty men and aspiring women, who
shared some of the best blood hi Gotham. In fact, a
delegation came to him in the bold determination to
assume full powers and negotiate a settlement before
they returned. Sharing m large degree the New York
aptness for setting forth the greatness and prospect of
their city, it was a tempting perspective they opened
before him, and it failed not to tell on his heart and
hope.

Variously biassed, he accepted the call to New
York, and on the 5th of February, 1848, wrote his let-
ter of resignation, a brief and business-like note. For
the effect of his w^ithdrawal on the society he had no
anxiety, since he had pretty well assured himself that
his successor would be the Eev. A. A. Miner, then a
successful minister in Lowell, and now a man known to
the whole country and wearmg fitting titles of honor.
At the parish meetuig which accepted Mr. Chapin's re-
signation, a call was extended to Mr. Miner to succeed
him as preacher and pastor ; and on the first Sunday in
May, the one in New York and the other in Boston en-
tered upon pastorates which were to extend through the
remainder of their lives. For thirty-two years Dr.
Chapin ministered to his admiring people ; Dr. ]\Iiner
is still the honored shepherd of his flock.

The regret in view of his leaving Boston and New
England was general, and among his brother ministers
and intimate friends it was especially felt, for he was
to them a friend in whose friendship the finest qualities
of head and heart were displayed. He was simple.

114 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

franlc, social, tliouglitf ul, affectionate ; and in addition
to this, lie was a tower of strength in their midst. And
not without some expression of their regard and good
wishes for his success m his new field could they permit
him to leave them. " AYlien it became known," wrote
Eev. Thomas Whittemore, " that his intention to go was
formed, there were several sad yet pleasant meetings
of his friends. The mind very naturally reverts to one
at which the writer was present. The thoughts of all
were fixed on the fact of Mr. Chapin's speedy removal
to New York. It was the last opportunity of meeting
previously thereto, — perhaps the last they would ever
enjoy of being all together on the earth. After an hour
of free and generous intercourse, and when the party
had left the table and convened • in the parlor, a billet
was handed to each person, which, on being opened, was
found to contain appropriate stanzas. Gathered around
the piano, the company with voice and heart, chanted
the words in the tune of " Auld Lang Syne." This affec-
tionate parting with Mr. Chapin fittmgly took place at
the residence of Abel Tompkins, who was the first to
welcome the young preacher as he came to this vicinity
from his Southern home; and, meanwhile, meeting
almost every day, they had mingled their thoughts and
sympathies like two brothers. The hymn for the occa-
sion was written by Eev. John G. Adams, and breathed
the hope of a final meetmg where friends shall no
more part : —

"This thought, loved brother, be with thee,
As now thou bid'st farewell
To this long tried fraternity
With other hearts to dwell."

IX.

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK.

Ox the first Sunday of September, 1838, a little
group of Universalists met in the Apollo Rooms on
Broadway, and listened to a service conducted by Rev.
William Whittaker. In that day of small things the
number assembled seemed hopeful, and the spirit of
couage possessed them. Electing Mr. Whittaker as
their leader, they continued their meetings, and on the
11th of November organized as the Fourth Universalist
Society. On the first Sunday of December they began
to hold their meetings in the New Jerusalem Church on
Pearl Street, and rented at once forty-three of the fifty
pews in the humble structure. The remaining seven
were soon taken, and there were earnest calls for more.
A committee was appointed to look for ampler quar-
ters, and a church on Duane' Street, near Chatham,
was leased for two years, and on the following April it
was occupied. It was the third home of a society not
yet a year old. At the close of the two years the society
removed to the lecture room of the College of Physicians
and Surgeons on Crosby Street. Resting here a couple
of months, like an Arabian encampment, it went into
its new church on Elizabeth Street on the first Sunday
of May, 1841. In three or four years, as if smitten by

116 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

a migratory mania, it sold this cliurch and returned to
the Apollo Eooms, where it held its first meetings and
from whence it started on its wanderings.

But if the rolling stone gathers no moss, the moving
society had steadily augmented its ranks, and ripened
an ambition to do some signal thing at its next turn.
In short, it had come to the determination — at least,
its leaders had — to engage the Eev. E. H. Chapin of
Boston as its minister, purchase a commodious temple
in as good a location as possible, and command the
favor of the public by its enterprise, while securing to
itself the benefits of a great leader and a rare oratory.

It was no sudden spasm of ambition which thus seized
the rising men in this roving assembly of Universalists.
For some years Mr. Chapin had been their favorite, the
man after their heart, their ideal as leader along the
lofty walks of Christian thought and life. Since the
time when, in 1S40, he had been providentially delayed
on his journey from Richmond to Charlestown by a
driving snow-storm, and became a chance occupant of
their pulpit for a Sunday, his spirit and voice had
haunted the few of them who had made his audience.
On various occasions they had, meanwhile, secured his
services, and the evidently growing power of the man
deepened their desire to claim him as theu- preacher
and pastor. Even more than the cooler and calmer
Bostonians, it may be, they felt the special greatness of
his gifts, and foresaw for him in their city a career of
usefulness and fame of no common order. While he
was yet a minister in Charlestown they had sent him
an urgent call, emphasized by an offer of increased sal-
ary, to come and take up the work in their midst ; and

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 117

their appeal was not imregarded by hiin. In fact, he
submitted the matter to his people for their advisement;
and they thus addressed his rising thoughts of leaving
them : —

" Eesolved, that this society entertains with unfeigned re-
gret even the tliought of the dissolution of a connection which,
in our part, is now so harmonious, profitable, and satisfactory ;
and confidently hope that our beloved pastor, on his part,
will see his path of duty to lay in its continuance."

This hearty remonstrance modified his view of duty
as they hoped it would; and he remained two years
longer as their pastor, and supplemented this term by a
two years' settlement in Boston.

But the time had now come for another overture
from iSTew York, which, not less urgent than those of a
former year, could be emphasized by increased wealth
and numbers. Knowing the frame of mind in which
the society stood, but bearing no message from it, three
men, Messrs. William Banks, Georsre A. Hovt, and J. B.
Close, went on to Boston with the solemn purpose not to
return till they could bring back the tidings that ]\Ir.
Chapin had been secured as minister to the Fourth
Universalist Society. In tnie Jacksonian spirit they
empowered themselves to act without official advice,
and they mutually vowed deafness to a negative answer
to their entreaty.

But they fouud Mr. Chapin in a good condition for
listening to their combined eloquence. Since their former
invitation. New York had been a growing attraction to
his enthusiastic soul. In her rushing and roaring tides
of life he felt a sympathetic thrill, as for something

118 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

with which his own bounding pulses kept pace. With
a wild zest he had visited the eager metropolis from
time to time, and with unspeakable pleasure had kindled
the quick enthusiasm of her crowds from platform and
pulpit. And hence, on a very broad ground, the appeal
of the three men was not unwelcome. But more specifi-
cally it called him to a sole pastorship from a divided
one, m which, while he was free from friction and an-
noyance and even cheered by a personal friendship, yet,
by reason of the wide contrast in spirit and style be-
tween himself and his senior, he could not have been
entirely at his ease. A long and powerful ministry so
unlike his own, and constantly suggested by the presence
of its revered source, made an atmosphere in which he
could but feel a degree of restraint. Hence in the New
York call he saw an invitation to a more ideal freedom.
But the more potent special bias in favor of the appeal
he found in the financial offer of the three men. Mr.
Chapin had no love for money, but he had a great need
of it. With his generous hand, overruled sometunes by
a blind impulse, especially in the bookstores, he scat-
tered more than he gathered. As in Charlestown, so in
Boston, he found his obligations maturing faster than
his income. In his moments of ardor he made debts
which came round in his calmer hours to haunt him.
It was at this point the New York committee, speaking
in their own name, met him triumphantly. They
pledged him for three years an increase of a thousand
dollars a year on his present salary, and would assume
and immediately discharge his unmet dues. Thus va-
riously weighted, the scale was made to tip in favor of
New York, and the happy three returned to report their

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 119

victory to their enthusiastic associates, who had w^aited
years for this hour to arrive.

At once a church was purchased on Murray Street,
.and on the 7th of May, 1848, Mr. Chapin, then thirty-
four years old, entered on his ministry with the Fourth
Universalist Society, — a ministry that was to continue
unbroken for the remainder of his life, a period of
thirty-two years, and which was to be more noted for
its fruits than for its duration. Up to this date the mi-
grating band had been ministered to by Eevs. William
Whittaker, I. D. Williamson, Moses Ballou and Thomas
L. Harris. This w^as its period of struggle and self-
sacrifice and slow growth. " Ere its days of prosperity
were reached," wrote one of the pioneers, " it had a
hard and toilsome path to follow. Dark clouds often
overshadowed it, but the silver lining was seen, and
each one took courage. Faithful men and working
women were ready to do and suffer to establish it." For
parishes, as for men, it is no doubt good that they should ,
be called to bear the yoke in their youth ; but of these
early toils and contests with limitations, the members of
the Fourth Society who came to it after Mr. Chapin's
gifts had made it prosperous and popular, have known
and thought as little, it may be, as the children of
wealthy homes, which were once poor, know and think
of the labors and hardships of their parents.

The installation of ]\Ir. Chapin as preacher and pas-
tor to this people took place on the 8th of June. At
this service Eev. E. P. Ambler invoked the divine bless-
ing. The Eev. I. D. Williamson read a fitting se-
lection from the Bible. The Sermon was preached by
Eev. Thomas Starr King. The Installmg Prayer was

120 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

by Eev. Menzies Eayner ; tlie Charge and Presentation
of tlie Scriptures, by Eev. Otis A. Skinner ; the Eight
Hand of Fellowship in behalf of the churches, by Eev.
T. B. Thayer; and the Address to the Society, by Eev..
Henry Lyon.

It was a graceful tribute of friendship in Mr. Chapin
to invite the youthful King, then but twenty-four years
old, to come on from Charlestow^n, Massachusetts, to
preach the sermon on this important occasion. During
the years of Chapin's ministry in that city Kmg had
been his parishioner, an admirer of his genius and the
spirit of his life, cheered and blessed by his sermons, a
frequent visitor at his study for philosophical and
religious conversation, and more and more his com-
panion and friend. In his letters he often referred
with pride and gratitude to his pastor. In one of
these he wrote : " I love him for his manly and free
thought, his enlarged Christian charity, — capable of
seeing the excellencies of his opponents and the defects
of his own sect, — and, above all, for his practical ap-
preciation of the realities of religion and the spiritual
world. Seldom have I met a man who with a heartier
communion sympathized with a great doctrine which
every day becomes more important and more real and
more dear to me, — the doctrine of a Universal Provi-
dence." But this appreciation *and love were recij)ro-
cated, and Chapin was happy to say of his friend at a
later day: " His name was felicitous, for he was a star in
intellect, — lofty, clear, shining like a star, — and Mng
in his large nature, swaying us, ruling us, by the sover-
eignty of his munificent love." With the aftection of
Paul counselling Timothy, Chapin preached the sermon

MINISTRY IN NEW YOEK. 121

at King's ordination; and now, after two years, Timothy
had shown such proficiency in wisdom and eloquence
that he was asked to counsel Paul and his people as
they were about to enter into new relations ; and his
Avise and brilliant discourse justifies the friendly con-
fidence which had been reposed in him.

No sooner had Mr. Cliapin begun his work in New
York than he was seen to be the right man in the right
place. At once were his talents recognized and his
success assured. The ardent hope of the leaders of the
enterprise found an early fruition in the crowd which
came to their church, and was ready to assume respon-
sible relations with the movement. Men of wealth and
influence sought the best pews, recognizing the cost as
trivial in view of the great blessing they got in return,
— in the uplifting of thek thoughts, the kindling of their
noblest sentiments, the awakening of their imagina-
tions, the fostermg of their trust m God and their good-
will toward men, and m their newly experienced
raptures m the House of God as the waves of a mighty
eloquence swept over them. Hither also came the poor,
for m full sympathy with them was the preacJier's
heart, and to them he j)reached the generous gospel of a
common humanity, the innate worth of character, and
the bending of God with equal favor over palace and
cot in which the law of love has a like fulfilment. Sor-
row found a balm of healing in the prayers and sermons
of this temple. Here the reformers were encouraged,
sinners tenderly pleaded with, the young men inspired
and cheered on, the upright in their dealings invested
with a mantle of honor, the true statesman heartily
approved, the tolerant in spirit commended in the

122 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

name of a broad Christianity, and the pious borne
into a diviner atmosphere. With a magnetic oratory
he touclied the best life of souls, and they came in
crowds to place themselves under his genial and mighty
power.

It was not long before it begun to be manifest that
the Murray Street pastor was to become New York's
favorite preacher, the one to be most souglit on Sunday
and talked of on Monday ; and it became evident that
the church, which had been bought on his account for
its commodiousness, must on his account be sold as
unequal to the demand of the people, and arger quar-
ters be secured; for it was now no novel occurrence
for eager feet to press to its doors when there was no
room for them within, every seat and standing-place
being occupied.

At length a relief from this pressure was sought, but
not found, in the purchase of the large church on
Broadway, near Spring Street, then owned and occu-
pied by the Unitarian Society of which Rev. Dr.
Bellows was pastor. On favorable terms, $93,000, the
purchase was made, and on the first Sunday of Novem-
ber, 1852, the newly acquired temple was taken
possession of, with an appropriate recognition of its
advantages over the one they had left, and of the fresh
hopes and responsibilities of its new occupants. At
the evening service " about two thousand people were
present, and hundreds went away unable to gain ad-
mittance." The new enterprise was inaugurated with
an " overflow," which was but a prophecy of the com-
ing years of prosperity. One hundred and seventy of
the two hundred pews were already rented. And for

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 123

fourteen years, while Dr. Chapin went in and out as
the preacher in this church, its fame in the city, in the
whole country, and in foreign lands, as the theatre of a
marvellous eloquence, and the oracle of a sweet and
saving gospel, a broad and generous Christianity, a
universal religion, was far beyond the aspects of the
place. Vastly greater than the temple was he of the
rapt heart and eloquent tongue who mmistered in it ;
and, like a patrician mantle cast over a plebeian form,
he covered it with a glory not its own. A roomy and
comely building, it was the rare genius of the preacher
which filled^ it with an air of the divine, made it
solemnly cheerful with great visions of love and hope,
turned it into a mount of higher communion and rap-
ture, and, year after year, blessed the eager throngs
which crowded through its vestibule.

The notable scene became the frequent theme of the
newspaper correspondents, and their sketches were all
the more interesting in that so many of their readers
had seen the original ; for among the things not to be
missed on a visit to New York, was a Sunday at Dr.
Chapin's church. Indeed, not a few business men and
professional men from all parts of the land, called to
make hasty trips to the city, were accustomed to so
time them as to include an opportunity of listening to
the thrilling eloquence in the Broadway Church. In
the weeks or months of their absence the potent spell
rested on them, and they were moved to seek its source
again and again. From a racy WTiter in the " Salem
Eegister," the following sketch is taken as one of the
many attempts to portray the scene. He painted it as
it appeared to a stranger : —

124 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Approaching tlie liumljle entrance he walks into a long
wide entiy^ rather a dark one, — - walks on, his eyes turning
right and left, half incredulous, half suspicious there's a hoax
about it ; which suspicion, however, is soon dissipated as he
comes to the inner doors and spacious gallery-ways ; which sus-
picion he is a little ashamed of as one of these doors opens and
he looks into the great church, elegantly but modestly finished,
made impressive by two rows of pillars reaching from roof
to floor, — its Gothic arcliitecture of dark shade relieved by
soft light coming in at curtained windows and giving it the
devotional appearance. No one seems to offer the stranger a
seat, and he thinks he '11 step up stairs ; perhaps the seats are
free up there. He goes up and, as he arrives, reads a notice
in big letters, " Strangers are particularly requested not to take
seats, except under the direction of the trustees." " Gra-
cious I that is kind of mean," says our stranger to himself.
He keeps saying so to himself, till at last the thought strikes
him {curious it did n't strike him before) that every seat
in the house is let ! " Well, if a man hires a seat he ought to
have it ; " and our pious stranger grows disappointed and
charitable at the same moment. The prospect is dubious.
It 's too bad. He wanted to hear Chapin in his own pulpit,
and amid his own admiring people. He is on the point of
leaving the premises. Happy fellow ! he is prevented. He
has got there early, and some one has told him he can use
one of those boards that run across the windows. He does
not hesitate a bit to accept even that fare. He plants him-
self on one of the boards. It 's just as good a seat as any,
only it is not so genteel. He goes to the farthest one, so that
he can look right down on the pulpit, and there he sits.
Kow they are beginning to flock in. Group after group pour
through the doors and throng np the stairs. Gentility par-
ades itself fresh from the tailor's press, and plumed bonnets
sail along the aisles to the music of rustling silks. Not half

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 125

an hour, and those two hundred and twenty-five pews are
packed full, while around the doorways, above and below, are
throngs who account it no hardship to stand, well knowing,
as they do, that that voice will be heard, though it spoke
from the remotest corner of a St. Peter's.

The minister has come in. He came in at a private door,
unnoticed by our stranger, who Avas probably watching for
him in the wrong direction. There he sits, a stout, fat, robust,
swarthy-faced, black-haired, gold-spectacled, genial-looking
minister ; and while yet a tardy worshipper or two are tend-
ing toward their reserved places, he rises, looks his flock over
— as does the shepherd — and announces the hymn, and the
tune to which it is to be sung. He reads it in a deep, meas-
ured, solemn voice, and as the people look on they see a
meaning they did not suspect in that hymn. It touches a
chord in them that vibrates, and when the singing begins,
it is generally a familiar tune, the whole congregation join
— far more devotional is this — and fill the large house with
a heartij liarmony. The singing closes, and there follows
a chapter of Scripture, pronounced in a resonant, yet sub-
dued and effective voice ; and if there occurs in it some pas-
sage well-known to his childhood, but become trite through
oft repeating, it very likely has for him now a fresh import.
It now seems like divine speech indeed. The Scripture is
pronounced, and he that pronounces it leans on the open
Bible in momentary silence, the congregation still sitting,
and begins the utterance of a prayer. It is a short prayer, —
obedient to Christian rule, — but comprehensive, leaving un-
asked no needful thing, leaving unacknowledged no blessing
received. Another hymn, read as before, sang as before, and
Whitefield, whom Hume has come twenty miles to hear
preach, rises and gives you the text. Perhaps it is in these
words : " What think ye of Christ 1 " Twice he repeats it,
" What think ye of Christ ? " and the multitude is hushed,
nor refuses to be

126 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

"held liy his melodious harmony,
In willing chains and sweet captivity."

He proceeds to tell them that, in this era of general in-
telligence, all have soiiie opinion touching Christ ; that the
character who, in two thousand years of history, has figured
the chief, necessarily enlists a universal inquiry respecting
him ; and as number the various answers to the inquiry, so
number the classes of men of whom he would speak. There
is a Speculative class, a Sceptical class, an Indifferent class, a
Faithful class. On these severally he descants, administering
rebuke, expressing pity, applying exhortation, according as it
seemeth just. He has notes before him, but he scarcely sees
them. He grows warm ; holy fire kindles his brow, and
the sweat rolls down his earnest flice. He grows bold, his
arms sway to and fro, indignation flashes in his eye ; and he
does not refrain to affirm that he would rather see a man stay
at home of a Sabbath and study his Bible, though he study
to refute, than see him come up with grave visage to slumber
under the droppings of the sanctuary. Again he softens and
becomes tender. His countenance beams with triumphant
hope, and he pleads the matchless love of the Son of God.

Now he has forgotten all about his notes. Perhaps he
"wonders how he ever wrote those dumb words. Yea, he
seems to have forgotten the words he spoke in the beginning;
for now, with arms uplifted and voice ringing through the
vaulted church, he declares : " Finally, brethren, there are
but two classes of men in the Avorld ; one has turned its
back on Christ and, forgetful, reckless, grovelling, hurries in
its downward course, unenlightened by gospel truth, unsus-
tained by redeeming love; the other, a glorious company,
with face toward the living Jesus, presses upward with more
than mortal confidence, sometimes falling a step backward,
but, ever brave, ever strong, it gathers energy and struggles
on to reach the great high place. Ob, he sees them in the

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 127

rauks uimumbereil, their spiritual armor girded on, their
lances couched aud glistening in the heavenly effulgence.
Let us join -them. There is Paul away up there, the halo of
glory about him. There are saints waving palms and beckon-
ing us thither, and the strings of celestial harps are sounding.
Let us join the jubilant array ; let us live forevermore! "

The sermon is preached. The preacher is silent, for a
moment silent. The still audience draws the long breath
that eases the overcharged heart, and he, leaning forward, ut-
ters the simple prayer of the Saviour. Another hymn, the
benediction, and the congregated people retire slowly,
thoughtfully, feeling wiser, better, happier, their fraternal
sympathy strengthened, their sense of responsibility increased,
and revolving perchance, in the recesses of the heart, those
words of solemn signihcance : —

" Our life is short ;
To speud that shortness basely — 'twere too long. "

In the crowded vestibule, which the above writer
calls " a long, wide entry," the standard mqniry was :
"Does Dr. Chapin preach today?" And a negative
reply to this question sent a shadow of disappointment
over the heart, and set the feet to moving away in
quest of some other temple wdiere eloquence was to be
heard, or to seek one or another of the many attractions
of the city to a stranger. But now and then it hap-
pened that this inquiry was omitted, and strangers
took their seats to find, not Dr. Chapin in his acois-
tonied place, but some clergyman who had been called
to conduct the service for the day. At once the retreat
began, and, singly or in groups, timidly or boldly, the
disappointed ones left the church. To spare his sen-
sibilities the strange minister was ordinarily notified, by
the sexton or some trustee, of this unavoidable occur-

128 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

rence ; but not every one met the case so coolly as did
the philosophical Scotchman, Rev. A, G. Laurie, who
thus relates his experience: —

I had beeu warned tliat, seeing a stranger in his pulpit,
the people would leave. " All natural," said I. And leave
they did. In the vestibule, group after group whispered the
sexton, and turned out. When I reached the jiulpit the
dribble increased. As I rose to the second hymn, half a
dozen in the gallery slided to the door. Then said I : " I know
that from all the country, visitors in 'New York Hock to this
cliurch to hear Dr. Chapin. None is gladder than I that
they do. None considers it more natural, than that when
they see another in the pulpit, many should leave. I am
pleased to see that, from consideration for the quiet of those
who stay, the leavers move gently. I shall therefore sit
down for two minutes, that those who have come to hear
Dr. Chapin may go freely, and leave in peace those who have
come to worship God."

The reader will not fail to find in this generous
acquittal a shrewdly administered rebuke.

Into the fourteen years of his Broadway ministry
came the three years of our Civil War ; and it was to no
ordinary test that the patriotism and courage of Dr.
Chapin were subjected. His was largely a parish of
merchants, and some of these were not only engaged
in a Southern trade, but were also the victims of a
pro-slavery bias. Of their opinions they were tenacious,
and of reproof for holding them they were feverishly
jealous. In the city their party was large and some-
what defiant, and in many instances its individual
members would hush the voice of the pulpit from its
advocacy of the Union cause. Dr. Chapin was thus

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 129

confronted ; but he kept the even tenor of his way as a
patriot, and now and then, under provocation, smote
the opposition with a telhng blow. Around his pulpit
for many months he kept the national flag gathered in
graceful folds, and into his sermons and prayers he
steadily breathed the spirit and often introduced the
theme suggested by the sacred symbol.

But not unfrequently amid his sharp rebukes of the
spirit of the rebellion, active in the South and sympa-
thetic and illy concealed in the North, and his outspoken
encouragement of the aim to subdue it, were there
demonstrations of disapprobation and even enmity in
one and another of his congregation. In several in-
stances he openly resented these displays of opposition.
Thus, as one slammed a pew door and tramped heavily
down the aisle, he said : "I shall not go out of my way
to seek these topics, but when they are fairly before
me I shall not turn aside to avoid them, though your
pew doors should clap to like platoons of musketry."
On one occasion he read an anonymous letter to his
congregation, which he had just received, and m which
his preaching was characterized in bitter terms, and
then made the broad announcement to his people :
" AVhile you have absolute control of your temple, you
have no authority over my conscience."

A lover of peace and harmony, and alarmed at war,
he still confessed the dread necessity of resort to arms
under the circumstances, and followed the councils of
State and the national army w^ith an intensity of anx-
iety and hope which robbed him of his sleep. By our
reverses m battle he was greatly depressed, and by
our victories he was not less elated From Europe,

9

130 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

whither he went in 1862 to seek rehef from his l3odily
infirmity, he wrote to a member of liis society : " I liave,
like every loyal American, been very much troubled
about our dear country. I think the aspect of affairs is
better now — better, not so much on account of great
military movements and victories, as on account of the
renewed loyalty and consolidated feeling of the North.
The result of all that I have seen thus far is, if possible,
an increase of love for the institutions of my native
land, and a confirmation of my faith in true democracy."
On his return, his spirit had lost none of its loyalty,
but his voice had gained in power, and m his pulpit, on
the platform, at the raising of flags, he eloquently advo-
cated his country's cause. In her interest, struggling
thus with fate, he wrought out some of his mightiest
thoughts and his most telling rhetoric.

But it was reserved for Mm at the close of the war, to
make, before the State officials and the assembled cit-
izens, one of the most pathetic and jubilant and there-
fore thrilling speeches of his life, — on the return of
the battle-flags to the custody of the Commonwealth.
By these shattered and soiled symbols, brought from
the fields of conflict and hard-earned victory, he was
deeply moved. They touched his patriotism, kindled
his pride in view of the sovereignty of the Eepublic,
reassured his hope of the future, moved his sense of
honor and humanity toward the brave men who had
returned with sunburnt faces and scars, bearing these
tokens of their loyalty, or had fallen in tlie bloody
strife, still cheerhig on their standard-bearers, and
awakened his sorrow and pity for the jnany sad homes
which the war had stricken. Thus aroused by the

Aged 46.

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 131

suggestions of the occasion, he rose to one of the mem-
orable triumphs of his eloquence.

From the Broadway Church, ever to be remembered
as the temple in wdiich Chapin won many of his great-
est triumphs of oratory, in which a host of souls were
thrilled, cheered, comforted, made more rich in spirit
and firm in faith, the society removed, in December of
1866, to its new church at the corner of Fifth Avenue
and Forty-fifth Street. On this temple it has expended
nearly a quarter of a million of dollars, and now" holds
the property free from debt. Here also for a period of
fourteen years, as in Eroadway, the great preacher
taught the people, and made many souls happy and
.strong in the spirit of the broad and sweet gospel he
inculcated. This was to him a sacred shrine, smce it had
been created under the inspiration of his own ministry ;
and here he set forth the mature and chastened thought
of his later years. To the crowd his presence became
less magnetic, his voice less thrilling, his message less
captivating ; but to souls seeking nearness to Christ, and
spiritual communion and the hopes of religion, his Fifth
Avenue ministry was especially helpful. With a di-
minished force, his services assumed a riper and richer
spirit.

In Mr. Chapin's New York ministry there appears
an evident growth of interest in the institutions of
Christianity and in the Church-days. More and more
he emphasized these in his thought and speech. To
Christmas, Palm Sunday, and Easter he gave his wdiole
heart, and on these occasions his services were distin-
guished by fitness and fervor. Nor was he unmindful
even of some of the Saints' Davs, as tliev came round in

132 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the circle of the Church-year. In these traditional
seasons he found a historic witness of the reality and
power of the religion of Christ, and a fitting appeal to
special ideas and sentiments connected with the king-
dom of God and the growth of the soul. Ever was he
in the spirit at the church-meeting and the communion
table, and seemed grateful for the nearness of his Savior
on these occasions.

But amid the array of forms and the recurrence of
festivals, he wanted no creed to limit or rule his mind.
In these high hours he would have before him the
personal Christ, and not a formulated theology. He
once said : " I do not know of any other Church standard
than this — the life of Christ, the spirit of Christ;"
and at the great Centennial Mass Meeting of Univer-
salists held in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where the
American branch of the order started, he said, in a
sermon given at the service of holy communion : " There
is a deeper Church than the Universalist Church; it is
the Church of Christ."

At his annual church-meeting, over which he was
wont to preside, a worthy brother, revering the creed,
was accustomed from year to year to move the adoption
by the church of the Winchester (Universalist) Con-
fession of Faith ; but, writes one who was regularly
present, " the Doctor would at once become excited, and
oppose it vigorously." But out of regard to the Doctor's
wish in the case, the annual motion was withheld at
the meeting following his death, its maker saying: "I
should expect, if I made it, to see the Doctor start out
from the desk, and resist it as he always did."

To the waiting and eager crowds which assembled in

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 133

his cliurch, Dr. Cliapin was wont to come as from a
Mount of Transfiguration. .From wrestling with his
theme and with the Holy Spirit, it may be for hours,
he came thoughtfully, silently to the temple, and
needed not to warm his heart after reaching his pulpit,
for it was already on fire. In the busy season of lec-
turing, when, as Dr. Sawyer tells us, " it w^as no un-
common thing for Imn to leave home on the first train
out of New York on Monday morning, and not enter
his own door until Saturday evening," he often spent
the Saturday night — save that he would catch an hour
or two of rest on the sofa in his study — in his prepara-
tion for the Sunday. When others were asleep he was in
the rapture of unfolding some great topic, or of holding
face to face converse with the source of all inspirations.
Under the wakeful stars he contmued his rapt vigils.

The Sunday mornings he habitually gave to thought
and prayer, mainly the latter, in the seclusion of his
study. Even when away from home, and to occupy a
strange pulpit, he sought this sacred privacy in which
to kindle the flame of love and worship on the altar of
his heart. " Before starting for church," says his inti-
mate friend Charles A. Eopes of Salem, from whose
door he went annually, on one of his vacation Sundays,
to occupy the Universalist pulpit in that ancient city,
" he kept his room ; and on his way to church he was
all absorbed, silent, did not w^ant to talk ; but he was
like a boy when his work w^as over." At home his
retirement within himself and oblivion of others, that
he might make ready for his public service, was more
marked. He seemed to become lost in musing and
devotion ; and it was ordinarily by the urgent importu-

134 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

nity of liis wife that lie was drawn away from these
moods, to take his seat in the carriage tliat was waiting
to carry him to church. She rarely succeeded in get-
ting him there in time. Oftener "than otherwise he
entered his pulpit ten or fifteen minutes late, especially
in the most active years of his life. Even when to her
importunity was added a resolution passed by the board
of trustees, suggesting greater promptness, he still left
his private sanctuary reluctantly and lingeringly. To
the church he was wont to ride in deep thought. Si-
lently, or with the fewest words possible, the sexton
handed him the notices for the pulpit, for at all inter-
ference he .was manifestly impatient. In the words of
one who had heard him for thirty years, and knew him
intimately, "he w^anted no one to come between him
and his preparation." Even the form of courtesy he
would violate rather than imperil the mood of emotion
and power into which he had raised his spirit. Happy
and .sovereign in his ardor, he thus jealously guarded
the ecstatic spell he had drawn on by his meditations,
as the Sibyl inspired herself by her contortions, and
would reach his pulpit with the liame undiminished.

Into the whole service the sacred impulse was borne,
but it gave to his first words a magical sway. Even
though spoken in seeming calmness, his earliest utter-
ance betrayed the heat of pent-up fires, and his hearers
swiftly put themselves to watching and waiting for the
bursting out of the suppressed flames. As Minerva is
said to have sprung in full armor from the brain of
Jove, so Chapin came to the church with eloquence
fully developed in his soul, and ready to leap forth a
spirit of beauty and power; and his audience became

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 135

at once aware of this full-grown Presence. Instead of
making an anvil of his congregation, on which to ham-
mer his coldness into a pleasing and effective warmth,
he had generated the needed glow in advance, and there
was an instant kindling of hearts to his preliminary
words. A writer in " Harper's Weekly " discovered this
swift command of attention, and wrote of it in the fol-
lowing terms : " Before the appearance of the preacher
the suppressed hum of voices in conversation struck a
stranger as irreverent, but the first tones of his voice
wove a spell which hushed and subdued the mass of
humanity before him till the final Amen was uttered."

It was by no ordinary labor that Dr. Chapin brought
his parish to its rare degree of prosperity. Not only
was he intensely active on Sunday from early morning
till late in the evening, but on no day of the week did
he find leisure. By temperament he was an enthusias-
tic worker at whatever he laid his hand to; and by
reason of his superb execution, tasks crowded upon him
with a clamorous demand. Eeviewing his ardent and
often excessive toils he once said to a friend : " I look
upon my career as if I had been driving a coach and
four at a rapid rate down the side of a mountain." But
so dominant was his impulse to drive on and make the
longest distance in the shortest time, that he seemed in-
capable of checking his speed even when he was con-
scious of peril. He could not be a moderate toiler.
He only took rest when he was spent, as the wheels of a
mill halt when the head-water or the steam is exhausted.
When the vital machinery broke by overuse or misuse,
as it did now and then, he stopped, but reluctantly, to
make the necessary repairs.

136 LIKE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The making of two sermons a week was his regular
task, and by an imperious demand they had to be ser-
mons of no ordinary merit. They must equal the great
fame of the speaker, and the vast and intelligent assem-
bly to which they were to be delivered. To be in his
pulpit twice every Sunday was the rule of his ministry,
the burden imposed on him by his fame, the tax laid on
his distinguished gifts. On this basis liis salary had
been in a measure adjusted, and many of the pews
rented ; while he could but feel an obligation to the
many strangers from all parts of the land, who came to
hear his voice and be blessed by his message, — to re-
spect their desire and honor their compliment. " Few
ministers," said Dr. Bellows, addressing Chapin's people,
" have been so constantly in their own places on Sun-
day as Dr. Chapin. Indeed he has so much spoiled
you for any voice except his own, and has so made this
church a place of eager pilgrimage from the hotels and
strangers' homes in New York, that it has been a sort
of necessity that he should steadily occupy his own
pulpit, and speak to his ow^n audience." By reason of
this necessity he became a maker of sermons to an ex-
tent seldom required at the hand of a minister, and has
left the marvellous number of eighteen hundred and
twenty-five manuscripts. The traditionary " barrel,"
which the clergyman is said to turn every now and
then, would hardly hold this bulk of written paper. It
makes the brain weary to think of the vast amount of
thought it must have required to treat nearly two thou-
sand themes, and to treat them freshly and strongly ;
and the hand shrinks before the immense manual toil
involved, as the old clock grew tired and paused under

MINISTEY IN NEW YORK. 137

the contemplation of the millions of strokes that would
be required of it. It would not be too much to say-
that Dr. Chapin wrought out in sermons at least two
thousand topics, giving to them hard study and exhaust-
ing emotion ; for many of his manuscripts must have
been given away, or used up by the printers in making
his printed volumes and in^ newspaper offices, while few
of his briefs from which he spoke in his pulpit are
preserved.

But the making of sermons to this extent was only
a small fraction of Dr. Chapm's labors. He was the
pride of the city, and in demand on countless occasions
which requhed special and sometimes extensive prepar-
ation. His name was sought to rally the public, and
his voice to add delight to the hour in which the people
met. Speaking to his congregation at the twenty -fifth
anniversary of his settlement, Dr. Armitage said : —

There was a time when it was your sole privilege to 'love
and honor and trust your pastor, because then he belonged
to you. So there was a time wlien the Kooli-i-noor diamond
belonged exclusively to the man who discovered and prized
and hoarded it. But its possession in the diadem of Great
Britain, for a quarter of a century or so, has made it the prop-
erty of the whole empire; just as the weight and worth and
soul-light of your pastor, for twenty-five years, have made
him the property of this whole metropolis.

Ever was his voice at the call of humanity, for he
had not the gift to say No where his heart was enlisted.
The tw^o words Temperance and Charity were enough
to rally him under any circumstances, and lead him
forth m heat or cold, in calm or storm, to make his
stirring appeals ; and it was no uncommon thing for

138 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

him to hunt his way to two platforms in a single even-
ing, in order to serve two distinct causes. He would
often go to grace a festival wdth his feryor and wit, for
he was not averse to toiling m the interests of pleasure ;
but he loved better to give himself to the more serious
demands of society for his services.

It was his special delight to aid a weak church and
encourage a struggling minister, by the gift of a lecture
in their behalf ; and in this matter he was quite indif-
ferent about denominational names and lines. In nearly
all the temples in and around New York, and there were
many of them, which sought to escape the scorn and
shame of death by debt, through getting some money
by lectures, his eloquence — and he was never more
eloquent than on these beneficent occasions. — was
sooner or later heard. Full w'ell he knew the value of
his gift to such enterprises, and he was happy to place
it at the service of all who needed it. He would some-
times foresee the demand and volunteer his aid. In a
cordial letter to the presiding officer on his twenty-fifth
anniversary, Eev. Dr. Burchard sent the following
testimonial : —

Dr. Chapin and myself have stood side by side as per-
sonal friends, as advocates of virtue, temperance, and human
rights, for the past twenty-five years. During that time I
have received from him many tokens of personal esteem and
brotherly kin(hiess. When in a season of unparalleled and
protracted suffering, and apparently nigh unto death, he came
to my bedside and offered fervent prayer, and spoke words of
comfort and hope. Since then my heart has been in full
sympathy with him. When the twenty-fifth anniversary of
my own pastorate was near at hand, and I was desirous that

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 139

it should be celebrated over a church entirely free from an
ojjpressive debt, he was among the first and the freest to re-
spond to the call for sympathy and aid, by offering to give
one in a course of lectures wliich crowned the effort to
relieve the burden.

This, however, was only one of the many hands
which, inspired by his generosity, could liave sent a
grateful testimonial to the large and happy group gath-
ered around him at the close of the twenty-five years of
his New York ministry; and each tribute would have
been an indication of the labors he took upon himself
apart from the making of tw^o sermons a week.

But we must follow Mm into the wide lecture-field,
stretching from Maine to Illinois, if w^e would get a
fuller view of the extent of his toils. Durins half
of the year, for many years, he spent most of the days
in the cars, and of the evenings on the lectare-platforms;
and often a part of the night had to be taken from the
hours due to sleep, that he might make some distant
point to meet an engagement. These constant trips
were often attended by special hardships and expos-
ures : cars too cold or too hot, rides in sleighs through the
sharp air of mid-winter, meals at irregular hours and of
every possible order of badness, — from bad materials
to bad cooking, — and the worst of beds in the worst
of rooms. Amid one of these trials of body and soul
he was happily sketched by the facile pen of George
William Curtis : —

Some years ago, in the height of his prosperous lecturing
career, the Easy Chair met him at the Albany Eailroad station
in the early evening of a winter day. He M-as snatching " a

140 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

bite " and a cup of coffee ; and, as the bell rang, they hurried
to the train, Chapiu carrying a lumbering bag and shawls,
and laughing and joking as they climbed into the car. He
had been out all the week, starting early on Monday morn-
ing, after preaching twice on Sunday. He had lectured every
evening during the week, travelling hard all day. " Up be-
fore light," he said gayly, "eating tons of tough steaks and
bushels of cold apples, whizzing on in these stifling cars, and
turning out just in time to swallow a cup of tea, and off to
the lecture." It was tremendous work, as only the fully ini-
tiated know. But he made it all a joke, and his swift tongue
flew humorously on from incident to incident, and presently
began to discuss the new books and the new articles in the
magazines with sharp and just discrimination. Suddenly the
train stopped, evidently not at a station. The night was cold
and stormy. Presently the conductor passed, and Chapin
asked to know the reason of the delay. The conductor re-
plied that there was some derangement of the locomotive,
and Chapin said quietly, " This is bad business for a man
who has to preach at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, and
whose sermon is not begun." His companion remonstrated ;
but Chapin's eyes twinkled as he answered : " Oh, you lay-
men know nothing about it. Burns sang the Cotter's Satur-
day Night, but the Minister's Saturday Night is yet unwritten.
At least," he said laughing, "this one is likely to be unwritten."
It was past midnight when the train reached the city. "Good-
night," cried the hearty voice. " Go home and go to bed ; I'm
going to w^ork." The next time the Easy Chair met the
preacher, it asked about that sermon. "Oh, that was all
right. I went home, and there was a bright fire in my study,
and a brew of hot coffee, and I finished that sermon just as
the sun rose." And the next morning probably he was off
again for another week of the same kind.

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 141

Only the toughest fibre of flesh, cheered by a spirit
which made the best of the situations, could have en-
dured such wear and tear of the constitution for a score
of years as he seemed to ; but to this exposure we
must ascribe in part, no doubt, the fact that he broke
in health at sixty and died at sixty-six.

But in forming an adequate schedule of Dr. Chapin's
labors the fact must not be left out of the account
that he was a constant and vehement reader, when not
otherwise employed. He w^as a man of books and
of eager reading habits to an extent equalled by but few
in our land. For a period of twenty years, between
his earlier ministry when his purse was thin, and his
later ministry when his powers were spent, there is
little doubt that he averaged buying a book a day ; and
of these volumes, always of a high order, often exhaustive
treatments of the greatest themes, he gained more or
less knowledge by his swift mental activity. He swept
over their pages with an eager glance for their salient
points, as an eagle sweeps over the landscapes. He
wrestled with their great themes, not critically and
patiently, but with an intensity of interest and aim of
which but few minds are capable. And to books he
added, to a prodigal extent, newspapers and maga-
zines, whose columns he scanned with a swift glance.
Around him in his study these lighter issues from
the press swarmed in a wide-spread confusion, and
wherever he went were his companions. At all times
and in all places, where propriety did not forbid, he
was reading. A characteristic scene is set before us
in the following period from the pen of George William
Curtis : —

142 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIX.

His old associates on the lecture platform will never for-
get his cordial greeting in the car, as he looked up from the
last new book on theology or philosophy or science or fic-
tion, one hand resting upon the travelling-bag distended with
the latest reviews and magazines, European and American,
while the other grasped the new-comer, and drew him to a
seat, and to a flood of merry, shrewd, kind, humane conver-
sation that followed.

To be asleep, or intensely active, was a necessity of
his being ; and as a lover of books, bibliolater, in fact,
his activity, to a large degree, took the form of reading.

As a pastor he was not given to going from house to
house, as most clergymen do ; but he was very faithful to
the sick and the sorrowing, and made no discrimination
between the rich and the poor in his attentions, — or if
any distinction, it was one in favor of the latter. Notices
of sickness among his people, and of funerals which oc-
curred in his absence from the city, were often left with
the sexton ; and for these he would inquire on Sunday,
and embrace the earliest opportunity to make his pas-
toral visits. But for the ordinary " call " he had little
aptness and less inclination. He was not a patient
waiter while the lady of the house lingered to dress her
hair and robe herself in finer attire. Having no book
or magazine along with him, he knew not liow to oc-
cupy the restless moments, but only counted them by a
frequent gaze at his watch, and computed their value if
devoted to study. The brevity of the touch-and-go in-
terview forbade the drawing on of any congenial rush
of thought or feeling, and he was not content or at ease
in conversation if he were not kindled. If not thus
made self-forgetting he was painfully self-conscious,

MINISTRY IN NEW YOEK. 143

silent or hesitant in speech, bothered to know what to
say next, awkward with his hands, ill at ease generally,
and wishing himself away. He did not like to meet
strangers when he felt there rested on him the duty of
making the time pass profitably. While he was a happy
frequenter of a few homes, he shunned the many, as
one who felt he could neither derive nor impart any
benefit from the few moments he might be able to spend
in them.

To the end of his days Dr. Chapin was the persistent
and ardent laborer, and often w^ent to his tasks when he
should have gone to his bed, or on some restful excur-
sion. Far beyond the measure of his strength were the
desire of his heart and the urgency of his will. " His
fiery soul was untamed by sickness or age," said Dr.
Pullman, his friend and neighbor m the ministry, " and
only physical infirmities checked him from the drivy
and push of his best days." He often preached when
he had to climb the pulpit stairs by the aid of the rail-
ing, and to lean on the desk, while speaking, in order to
make himself secure. In the midst of the most acute
pains he would rise from his sofa and go and deliver his
sermon or attend a funeral. As his physician, the cele-
brated Dr. James R "Wood, was one day prescribing for
him, tlie hour came for him to go to his church to speak
to a group of mourners who were to pause there on
their way to the cemetery with their cherished dust,
that they might have the comfort of his trustful
prayers and hopeful words. The Doctor said to him,
" Mr. Chapin, you are not able to go to the church."
" Well, I am able to be carried there," was the reply.
" But you cannot ascend the pulpit after you are there,"

144 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

added the physician. "Then I can stand in front of
it," was the response. " But you are not strong enough
to stand," replied tlie man who had his health in
charge. " Then I can sit and talk, which is the more
apostolic manner," was the rejoinder. " You will faint
away," said the Doctor, striving to set before the sick
man the most dubious prospect. " If I do," was the
reply, " somebody will come with a smelling-bottle and
brinfj me to, and I shall "o on." When the carriage
came for him he made his way to it with painful effort,
and went to the funeral, leaving his faithful physician
in his library.

He not only contended thus with pain and weak-
ness, but with a serious embarrassment caused by his
false teeth, which the best of dentists in his latest years
could not make secure in their place. They seriously
checked at length his freedom of utterance, and utterly
kept him back from those moments of abandon and
high climax in which he so much delighted and from
whence he sent forth his most characteristic power, for
he feared their fidelity to their duty. By reason of
their treachery he was compelled to move cautiously
and timidly in his discourse, and it may be on this ac-
count he gave up extemporizing, since he could not be
as self-conscious and sure of his safety as in reading.
He was often in the dentist's hands, and not seldom at
his church on Saturday to test some new workmanship,
that he might know how far to trust it on Sunday. But
he took up the cross heroically and would not lay it
down. Like a Spartan he fought with all of his infirm-
ities, but a stronger fate compelled him to yield inch
by inch the sharply contested ground.

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 145

In consideration of liis growing ailments and evident
need of assistance, the people from time to time brought
before him, in some graceful manner, the thought of a
colleague or assistant ; but the idea was not a congenial
one to him. He saw in it the hint of incapacity in
himself, which he was reluctant to contemplate. He
avoided the signs of decline in his own powers, as ab-
horrent to his heart and will ; and would be blind to
the "shadow feared of nlan," which began to w^alk by
his side in aspects plainly seen by all other eyes. " It is
a fearful thing," said he, while at the zenith of his
power, " to have my reputation as a preacher, for I must
at length disappoint the people and myself by failing
gifts ; " yet he fought against the inevitable to the end,
as the wounded hero persists in pressing on in the
thick of the battle. To the Xo-surrender order belonged
his mighty spirit, — or to the order which gives up only
when even the forlorn hope is taken away, and the case
is hopeless, but which may surrender then as gracefully
as it had contended heroically. Thus was it with Chapin.
When at last he was utterly spent, and the flame of
life flickered near the socket, and Rev. Dr. Ryder of
Chicago, who had been invited by the parish to be its
active minister — Dr. Chapin to remain as pastor emeri-
tus— went to consult with him about the matter,
tenderly introducing the subject, the spent minister
exclaimed in ready submission and eloquent phrase :
"Oh, I see; I am to vacate the quarter-deck, and you
take command ! " Still he never wanted to share the
quarter-deck with another, but he would be sole com-
mander so long as he could stand in the sacred place of
authority and power by leaning on the pulpit. He had

10

146 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the persistent courage and will of John Wesley, of
whom Crabb Eobinson writes : " The last time I saw him
he stood in a wide pulpit, and on each side of him stood
a minister, and the two held him up, havmg their hands
under his armpits." While to such as these life re-
mains, and is inspired by its great inner impulses, labor
is a necessary part of their existence. They know not
how to

" Husband out life's taper at the close,
And keep the flame from wasting, by repose."

But while Dr. Chapin labored thus faithfully, in his
days of health and of infirmity, for the good of his
people, he got from them m return for so great de-
votion a glad and even proud recognition of his gifts
and labors, and a steadily increasing salary, till it
reached the Uberal sum of twelve thousand dollars, to
which were also added many generous presents. At
the twenty-fifth anniversary of his settlement. Dr. Bel-
lows said truly, addressing the society, " you could not
have found a better minister, and he could not have
found a better people." By the law of personal attrac-
tion, and the spirit of his ministry, he drew to hunself
the ardent and generous, the men and women of heart
and impulse, by whom his dues were not likely to be
left unrequited, nor any pains spared to add to his
happiness. Their first act in his behalf was a bene-
faction. Even before he came to them they established
their claim to his gratitude, by gathering up and dis-
charging his unmet obligations. Not long after his
settlement they placed on his life a liberal insurance,
with a paid-up policy, — a favor he came near losing
through a strange fear of the necessary medical exami-

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 147

nation. On liis approach to the physician for this pur-
pose his heart flew into a wild commotion, and gave so
many strokes in a minute as to rule him out of the
required exhibit of bodily soundness. The doctor sus-
pected his nervousness, and asked him to call again in
a few days. In another flurry he came to meet the
ordeal, and proved unequal to the test. Not long after,
the physician went to his house, caught him in his
normal condition, and found his heart behaving so
commendably that he at once made out the required
certificate of health in his favor. In his best days
Dr. Chapin was haunted by the fear of some lurking
disease, and never had the courage of a calm self-exami-
nation on the side of the flesh. He was more or less
the victim of his imagination, and needed that those
around him should re-assure hirn of his good condition.
But in this instance his timidity came near involving
him in the loss of a parish favor.

Later m his ministry his people were moved by
the generous desire to help him to a house and home.
They accordingly purchased for him the spacious and
elegant residence, No. 14 East Thirty-third Street, at a
cost of twenty-five thousand dollars, thirteen thousand
of which they paid at the time of the purchase, trusting
that from Ins large salary and ample income from his
lectures he would be able to pay the remainder ; but
the debt stood for years uncancelled. With tlie growth
of his means came an equal growth of demands. The
house itself, his family, his library, the long train of
suppliants for one cause or another, the daily dribble
for nameless items, and foreign trips for health and
pleasure, kept his income and outgo steadily balanced.

148 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Meanwhile his people had gained in wealth, and had
lost none of their pride, gratitude, or generosity in be-
half of their eminent preacher ; and when the twenty-
fifth anniversary of his settlement came round, they
made up a purse of ten thousand dollars to be applied
toward the payment for the house. It was a free and
spontaneous gift, the overflow of hearts he had him-
self filled with reverence for God and good-will to men,
and with admiration for his own talents, gratitude for
his services, and esteem and love for his character. In
presenting the gift to him, before the great concourse
of his friends, the Rev. Dr. Pullman rightly said of it :
" It is ten thousand thanks to you."

The presentation occurred in the evening. The after-
noon had been given to addresses of reminiscence and
congratulation, amid wdiich Dr. Chapin was silent, but
deeply affected. The speakers were Rev. Moses Ballon,
Dr. Bellows, Dr. Armitage, Rev. J. Smith Dodge, and
Rev. E. C. Sweetser. Of the Doctor's silence Mr. Pull-
man aptly remarked in opening his presentation address :
" It was quite funny to think we had a meeting in this
church, and here w%as minister after minister getting up
and talking, and for the first time in the memory of man
Dr. Chapin was silent. I thought, now we are having a
good time; we have Chrysostom bound, the 'golden
mouthed ' gagged." But when Mr. Pullman had deliv-
ered to him the rich gift, it was his turn to speak, and
his words are at once a tribute to the generosity of his
people and a witness of his own gratitude : —

It has been said that I was gagged this afternoon. What
do you suppose I am to-night 1 I am gagged all over;
mouth and breath and soul, eyes and brains, are gagged with

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 149

this solid and substantial liberality, and jiobody can expect
me to make a speech now. I only desire to extricate myself.
I don't exactly know who I am or where I am. I liave been
beaten about the head and heart to-day with kindness until I
am completely stunned ; and now, to-night, I am overwhelmed
with this mountain load, so that I cannot struggle, as it were,
out of this generous and blessed encumbrance. What can I
do ? I think silence on my part would be more expressive
than any attempt at speech. I feel all that you have said
and all that this conveys, and this people will credit me
enough to know that if I don't make any speech, it is not
because I lack feeling, but because I am choked with the
sense of this kindness and this respect. I know this is in-
deed an honest testimony. This is no back pay ; I am not
in need of it. I have been paid amply and generously by
this people, and it comes from a treasury of hearts richer
than all the treasury of tlie United States, ten thousand
times amplified. Every dollar of it is a warm and loving
heart-beat, and it throbs with vital sympathy and generosity.
My friends, the best I can say to you is that I appreciate it
and feel it, and from my heart of hearts I thank you.

The small unpaid margin due on the house was finally
paid by his friends, making the liberal gift of twenty-
five thousand dollars in three instalments. But the
generosity of the people toward their minister found
other channels along which to flow. In several in-
stances he" was given leave of absence to make trips to
Europe for rest and recovery of health, and meanwhile
his pulpit was supplied. In more personal and private
ways he was constantly remembered, one hand or
another almost daily opening to confer on him a gift.
As freely as they had received from him the best of
blessings, so freely would they return to him the tokens
of their gratitude.

150 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

But the time at length came when the people saw,
w^th sorrowful hearts, that their great and loved leader
along the paths of the Kmgdom was nearmg the limit
of his earthly ministry. AVith the opening of the year
18S0 his condition was critical, and there seemed to be
little ground on wdiich to base a hope that he would
make the circle of the twelvemonth. The services he
came to the pulpit to conduct cost him much effort and
exhaustion, and the heart of the people was greatly
saddened as well as blessed by them. It was the pain-
ful view of greatness in ruins, a tender and mighty
spirit unsupported by the body in its brave and persist-
ent ambition to do yet more for God and man, a gra-
cious and powerful friend reduced to \\eakness. " With
inexpressible sadness," said Henry Ward Beecher, " I
used to meet Chapin in the last months of his life, and
say to myself, * The superb machine is shattered by over-
use and misuse, and cannot be repaired.' " With a like
pity all eyes now looked upon him. But to his own peo-
ple, in wdiose hearts he had so large a place, the contrast
was most affecting as he stood before them on Sunday,
so weak on the throne where they had been wont to see
him a very monarch of power, struggling and failing
where great inspirations had so often and surely borne
him to the grandest triumphs of speech. It was
the pathetic view of a heroic friend striving against
fate.

On Palm Sunday he preached his last sermon, and
on the first Sunday of May he came to the church to
meet his people for the last time. The service in the
pulpit was conducted by Eev. J. Smith Dodge, but at
the communion table Dr. Chapin received into the

MINISTEY m NEW YORK. 151

fellowship of the church two old friends, ]\Ir. and Mrs.
Seymour J. Strong. It was his final act in the temple,
and was a joy to his heart ; for nothing pleased him
more than to welcome souls to a visible unity with
Christ as the sign and seal of a spiritual oneness. We
may well believe he would have chosen to lay down
his ministry thus, in his own church and at the cele-
bration of the Lord's Supper.

Advised by his physician to make the trial of one
more trip to Europe, he sailed on the 2 2d of May. Be-
fore his departure he wrote to his people the following
brave and affectionate message; it was his last to
them : —

To the Congregation of the Church of the Divine Paternity.

My dear Friends and People, — It was my wish and
my hope to have spoken to you a few words personally be-
fore my departure for Europe, and to have seen you all
face to face ; but the condition of my voice and my physical
weakness forbid that privilege. Let me then in this man-
ner take leave of you for what, I trust, will prove but a short
time. Let me thank you for the great kindness, considera-
tion, and patience on your part, interwoven with consecrated
memories of many years. I exhort yon to be firm in your
faith and your loyalty to the church, and the great truths
and interests associated with it. Do not forsake these, or
become indifferent or discouraged. May God bless and keep
you each and all. May He bring us together in due sea-
son, to meet in the meditations and the worship of this
blessed house. But in luimble submission to His will, I
now bid you an affectionate good-bye.

Your Friend and Pastor,

E. H. CHAPIN.

152 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The trip proved in vain. The ocean offered no rest,
the foreign air no balsam, equal to his great need ; and
on the 7th of August he returned to seek the grateful
comfort of his home and to be among his people. At
his summer home at Pigeon Cove, and in his home in
the city, he spent the few remaining months of his life.
Under the most watchful care and tender nursing, with
his family around him, he yielded patiently and pain-
lessly day by day to the course of his disease, which
the doctor called " progressive muscular atrophy," — a
decline through the failure to absorb nutriment. In
the city he lingered in his spacious and cherished study
most of the hours of the day, and not a little of his
time he spent in prayer and meditation. For one, two,
or even three hours at a time would he be thus en-
gaged ; and only by the counsel of his physician, and
the interference of his wife or the nurse, could he be
kept from thus yielding to his spirit to the injury of
his body. Called from prayer lie would directly return
to it. With the fading of memory, the repose of the
mental powers, and the surrender of the will, his soul
asserted an undue supremacy, and his altar became to
him the chief desire of his life. As all else vanished in
the shadows, God and Christ and Heaven came more
into view, and early and late he would be with these
supreme realities. Pleased to have around him his
wife and children and grandchildren, glad to greet the
friends who came to see him, ready to give ear to any
news of the day which was announced to him, awake
to the import of every inquiry made of him, he sought
the first moment of relief from these to give himself to
worship. It was a marked instance of the " ruling pas-
sion strong in death."

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 153

With unfailing regularity for years he had been
accustomed to pray three times each day with his
family, beginning and closing the busy hours and paus-
ing in their midst with reverent and grateful thoughts
to Him who guards the night and fills the day with
blessings. "On no account would he set aside his
prayers," says his daughter. Nor did lie neglect to
mingle with these prayers at the home altar the read-
ing of the Word of God ; and habitually he read at the
table on Sunday morning the One Hundred and Twen-
ty-first Psalm, beginning : " I will lift up mine eyes unto
the hills from wdience cometh my help," or the Eighty-
fourth, opening with the words : " How amiable are
thy tabernacles, 0 Lord of Hosts!" But now in his
last days, with no demands of toil on him, and with
the shadow\s of earth's night lowering around him, he
gave his soul more than ever before to thoughts of God
and immortality. Amid the eclipse of the visible, he
sought the solacing vision of the invisible, and prayer
was the mount on which he stood.

It was his wish to die in some favored moment when
no one, not even himself, should take note of the pass-
ing change. From a farewell scene he sensitively
shrank. If, as the Arab proverb has it, " Death is a
black camel wdiich kneels at every one's gate," he
would have no herald to announce its arrival, but would
mount as in a sleep. He had made his the sentiment
of Mrs. Barbauld expressed in those lines which
Wordsworth said he wished he had written : —

" Jjife ! we 've been long together,
Through pleasant and through stormy weather.
' Tis hard to part when friends are dear ;
Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear.

154 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Then steal awa}', give little warning ;

Choose thine own time ;
Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime,

Bid me good mornmg."

This wish of the sick man's gentle heart was almost
completely realized. On Sunday, the 26th of Decem-
ber, he woke to greet the morning light and his family,
as he had done on a few previous days, in a painless
but exceedingly weak condition of body. He spent
most of the sacred hours in prayer or in sleep, now
and then entering into a brief conversation with those
around him, and indulging in one or two bits of pleas-
antry. In the evening he grew still weaker, but wished
the family to retire and leave him with his nurse, who
had come, through his tender and faithful ofhces, to be
regarded by him as a friend. He bade them Good-
night in a pleasant and hearty tone of voice; and it
proved to be his last word to them. The nurse aided
him to bed, and in a few moments discovered he was
unconscious. Summoning the household, they could
only stand by in silence and see the peaceful ending of
his mortal life, the closini^ of his brilliant and noble
career in which they had shared so largely and richly.
Just before midnight he drew his last breath, and the
great and gentle soul passed into the company of the
redeemed ;

"And donbtless unto him is given
A life that bears immortal fruit,
In such high offices as suit
The full-growni energies of heaven."

Alike were the manner and the place of his death
after his own choice. No man ever loved his family or
his library better than he, and with these around him

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 155

he spent his last days and hours. He once said : "If I
had but four breaths to draw, I would draw one of
them amid the sacred privacy of home," naming where
he would draw the others. Dear to him were the faces
which beamed upon him there, and the friendly books
that looked down from their places to greet him.

For forty-two years Mrs. Chapm had given to him
the great strength of her character, the thoughtfulness
of her mind, the devotion of her heart ; and he had come
to confide in her in very many matters as a child trusts
to its mother. In some important particulars she was
a fortunate counterpoise to his own deficiences. She
was of a singularly firm and even temperament, while
he was prone to oscillate between the extremes of ec-
stasy and depression, — to-day soaring to the mount of
transport, and to-morrow walking pensively in some
sombre valley ; and hence it was often her lot to raise
him from his moods of despondency, by imparting to
hun the cheer of her vision and the fortitude of her
will. Her ambition was greater than his, and she
spurred him on to achievements he otherwise would not
have won, but from the toils of which in some in-
stances, most likely, it were better that he had been
spared, and urged to seek rest. By her rare adminis-
trative talent — a talent not found in the circle of his
gifts — she was a constant and efficient aid to him, by
wise counsels, as a writer of most of the letters due from
his hand, and as a manager of his business affairs. To
her he entrusted the entire management of the household,
and gave himself wholly to his profession. She heartily
shared his interest in the church and in humanity, and
carried dignity, a high moral sentiment, and a steady zeal

156 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

into her labors for these great causes. Thus mutually
blessed by their four decades of married life, they were
not long separated. On the 22d of July, 1881, while at
her home at Pigeon Cove, the messenger came unan-
nounced and bore her to the side of her absent com-
panion ; and from her home in New York her body,
queenly in death, was carried to share with his the long
repose at Greenwood.

As he loved and honored his wife, so his heart went
out in a strong and tender affection for his children
and grandchildren. As a chief pleasure of his life he
sat in their midst, and lived and toiled for them. His
home seriousness was not of the monkish order, which
would forbid jests and smiles, and impose thorny gir-
dles. He invited mirth to season the domestic life,
and would set the house to ringing with the laughter
he provoked by his wit and frolic. Among the chil-
dren he was often like a child m playfulness. With
impromptu rhymes about their trifles he delighted to
divert them, and often tested their skill at solving
conundrums, most of wdiich were original and off-hand.
A single query put to his daughter in her younger
years is characteristic of his sportive habit. She was a
short and plump girl, seeming smaller than she really
was, and a dark brunette, with a good Spanish face as
one would meet in ]\Iadrid ; and he addressed her with
the question : " Marion, why are you like a famous
Boston publishing house?" She gave it up. "Be-
cause," said he, "you are little and brown" (Little &
Brown).

Two sons survive him, Frederic H. Chapin and Dr.
Sidney H. Chapin, and one daughter, Mrs. Marion

MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 157

Chapin Davison. Of the five grandchildren to whom
he gave his patriarchal benediction, little Ethel Davi-
son — the pet and companion of his months of sickness,
following him through the bookstores, riding with him
in the parks, and even going to the Monday ministers'
meeting with him, a fresh tendril clinging to the falling
oak — has passed from earth, to find, no doubt, her strong
and tender earthly friends " watching and waiting at the
Beautiful Gate " to give her their hearty welcome, as
when, after a night of slumber, she came to them with
her fresh morning face.

X.

PIGEON COVE.

Between" Massachusetts Bay and Ipswich Bay lies
a rocky, grovy, romantic reach of land known as Cape
Ann. It is mainly occupied by the three towns,
Gloucester, Rockport, and Annisquam. For sea views
and sea air it is not surpassed by any part of the New
England coast, and we may well believe the tradition
that it was a favorite haunt for the Indians, as it is now
the chosen summer resort of the cultivated. Even the
rudest eye could not miss its charms, nor the most stolid
flesh be insensible to the cool and refreshing breezes
which, during the heated term, sweep across it.

The credit of making the first survey of this land is
given to Captain John Smith, a romantic English ad-
venturer, who came here in 1614, and followed the
coast from Penobscot Bay to Cape Cod. Coming fresh
from some Oriental adventures, and bringing a grateful
memory of the kindness of a Turkish lady whose name
was Tragebigzanda, he conferred upon the Cape, though
a loyal subject of England", the name of his Moham-
medan benefactress. Whittier saw the poetry in the
scene and set it m verse : —

" On yonder rocky Cape which braves
The stormy challenge of the waves,

PIGEON COVE. 159

Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood
The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood,
Planting upon the topmost crag
The staff of England's battle-Hag ;
And, while from out its heavy fold
St. George's crimson cross unrolled,
Midst roll of dmm and trumpet blare,
And weapons brandishing in air,
He gave to that lone promontory
The sweetest name in all his story."

But a people who cared little for a Turkish woman,
and whose tongues did not take readily to the burden
of an Oriental term, soon found reason for re-naming
their region after their own queen, the gentle Anne.

The northernmost point of the cape, commanding a
full view of Ipswich Bay and an outlook upon the
broadest part of Massachusetts Bay, became known as
Pigeon Cove, and its most prominent elevation as Pigeon
Hill. On their journey north, before crossing the
water to New Hampshire or to the coast of Maine, these
migratory birds were wont to assemble in great numbers
at this point, and to make a landing on their return
flight. Even now small flocks of pigeons are often
seen here, while they are rarely found in other parts of
the State.

The Cove itself is a sufficient recess in the rocky
bluffs to contain a small village, which, before the
transformations wrought in the interest of summer resi-
dents, was of most humble aspects. To-day the ancient
buildings, small and rude in form, quaintly mingle with
the larger and more ornamental modern structures, such
as boarding-houses and hotels. Nowhere are the con-
trasts of old and new more striking.

Outside of the Cove, stretching along the rugged

160 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN.

bluffs which rise from the sea to the west, is a rambling
street of spacious summer homes, and among these
stands the picturesque cottage built by Dr. Cliapin, and
occupied, for a decade of summers at least, by the Chapin
family. It is located on a site which was a great favor-
ite with its builder, commanding an unobstructed sea
view, and having a gradually sloping ledge, six or eight
rods deep, from its waterside to the ocean, serving as a
pleasant promenade. A few rods to the west is
" Chapin's Gully, a great notch cut into the shore
of solid granite where it is highest and boldest." The
notch may be forty or more feet wide, and at its en-
trance from the land side is a broad rock, "at low tide
half in the water," known as Chapin's Rock. This
rocky enclosure seems made for a private bath, and here
for nearly thirty summers was Dr. Chapin accustomed
to go, with a chosen friend or two, to take his sjiort
with the salt sea- water.

Back of the sea-wall, stretching away toward the vil-
lages of Annisquam and Uockport, are most inviting
rambles by winding paths, through fresh plots of green
sward, and through oak and pine groves, and on to
rocky outlooks from which land and sea may be easily
scanned, and a hundred vessels counted on a favoring
day, with their white sails gleayiing against the dark
waters. But beyond Pigeon Hill or some near eminence
Dr. Chapin rarely w^andered, preferring to sit on his
veranda, with a book in hand or a friend at his side,
and to let nature, as land, sky, and sea, drift in on his
receptive soul. His heavy form and clumsy walk ruled
him out of the company of the liglit nnd nimble, who
took happily to long strolls over the rough country.

PIGEON COVE. 161

And better than he loved the land he loved the sea,
and entered with a keen sympathy into all its shifting
moods. Its dreamy summer haze, m which the idle
vessels seemed like phantoms, soothed him to a delight-
ful rest. The storm, darkness, and mystery of its
depths, and its boundless reaches, were a perpetual sug-
gestion to him of the infinite ; and he could say with
the poet : —

"In gentle moods I love the hills,
Because they bound my spirit ;
But to the broad blue sea I fly,
When I would feel the destiny,
Immortal souls inherit."

He loved the breaking of the day over the waters,
and the morning newness and freshness of the ocean
air. The broad, white lights, under the mid-day sun,
pleased him. The cool eve, at the close of a burning
day, the gloaming, the kindling of the lighthouse lamps
on the rocky points, the rising of the moon and the
brilliant path it lit up across the watery plain, the
music of the darkened waves plashing against their
rocky wall, — he took in the full inspiration of the
evening scene, and went to his night's sleep as from a
fitting prelude, to which he would add a reverent read-
ing from his Bible and a trustful prayer. Nor was the
wild uproar of the storm out of harmony with his soul,
wdiich rose gladly with the tumult into the mood of
rapture ; and amid the double commotion he would re-
peat the lines of Tennyson : —

" Break, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, 0 Sea !
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me."
11

162 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

" If I had but four breaths to draw," he remarked
once when speaking in Faneuil Hall, " I should wish to
draw one of them in tlie air of home and sacred duty,
one of them in the gorge of the "White Mountains, one
by the broad and foamiug sea, and the other in old
Faneuil Hall."

But not more by his love of the ocean, more loved at
this point, where it had grown familiar and assumed
friendly relations than at any other, was he annually
drawn to Pigeon Cove, and filled with a boy-like impa-
tience as the time drew near for the trip, than by tlie
free and happy social life he there enjoyed with his
friends, who, from year to year, made it their rule to
meet him by the sea. For at least twenty summers he
boarded with the Norwoods, who first kept the old
Pigeon Cove House and later the new, and here came
regularly a group of his Charlestown parishioners, Eich-
ard Frothingham and his family, T. T. Sawyer and his
family, Starr King, and others, to renew, as fellow-board-
ers, happy associations wnth the man they honored and
loved. Frothingham and Sawyer finally built their sum-
mer homes near the Chapin Cottage. Here he annually
met Rev. Henry C. Leonard, than whom he had no more
intimate friend, the twain shnring in common gravity,
levity, simplicity, and a gift for long sittings in sweet
converse. Often his most intimate New York friends
came on to visit him at the Cove, since they could rarely
find him, or find him unoccupied, at his city home.
With the l)urden of ten months of hard toil — in his study,
in his pulpit and parish, and on at least a hundred lect-
ure platforms from ]\Iaine to Iowa — lifted from his soul,
he revelled in his emancipation and gave his heart freely

PIGEON COVE. 163

to his friends, contributing, as seemed most to their
choice, serious converse, or stories and Hashes of wit.

In his earlier day, at the old Pigeon Cove House, he
was the life of the evening in the parlor. Into the
games he entered with a zest that was as diverting to
the guests as the players themselves. His hearty laugh
rang through the building, and his wonted exclamation,
"Capital, capital!" as a good hit was made in any piece
of sport, was as cheering to others as it was relieving to
himself

If any one ventured, as one now and then did in
sport, to play on him some joke, he was sure to parry
the undertaking like a skilful fencer, and turn the
laugh on the person who made the assault. On one oc-
casion, witli mock solemnity of form and speech, a pump-
kin, with a face cut on one side of it, was presented to
him as a bust wrought by some great artist. The scheme
had been conceived and conducted by his friend William
H. Eichardson, who made the presentation. Mr. Chapin
promptly rose and responded, saying he had " long been
aware of ]\Ir. Eichardsou's friendsliip and generosity tow-
ard him, and they could all now see, since he could not
give him his own head, he had given him the next thing
to it." Eeturning thanks he took his seat, and Mr. Eich-
ardson took the hearty laugh that followed. With a no
less apt reply did he turn back Starr King's attempt to
corner him. It was at the dinner table, when all the
guests were listening to the banter of the two witty
friends, that King said : " Chapin, I have just been think-
ing of the difference between you and me. You have rep-
utation and I have character." Before the laugh had time
to get under way, Chapin replied : " You are right, King.

164 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

I liave a good reputation and you have a bad charac-
ter." Mr. King well knew his challenge for a fine retort
would bring one, but it is probable he did not foresee the
response as it came.

It was his delight in the earlier years to take two or
three good friends, like Starr Kiug and the Eev. Henry
C. Leonard, and stroll away to the Chapin Gully, and,
after the exhilaration of a bath, to sit on the Chapin
Hock and tell stories and frolic with wit, or engage in
more serious converse. One can but wish these stony
walls might wliisper the wise and merry words which
have fallen against them from these lips now silent.
More interesting than romance would be the recital ;
better than medicine for the dyspeptic would be the
hearty laughter thus provoked. As a sample of the
feasts here served, a single pun from the lips of Chapin
may be repeated. In tliose long-ago days when Starr
King was still a Universalist minister, but was often
accused, by the " straitest of the sect," of preaching the
doctrine too "indefinitely," he and Chapin had just
come from a bath, when the former said : —

"Doctor, I can't hear very well; I have some water
in my ear."

" Well," replied Chapin, " I am glad of it ; anything
to make you a little more deaf in it (dcjimte)."

The sense of the pun is remote but apt, and must
have drawn a hearty laugh from him at whose laxity of
creed it was so deftly aimed.

Seated on the Chapin Eock, the brilliant King would
sometimes favor the select group with one of his rare
readings or recitations. In his most interesting volume
on " Pigeon Cove and Vicinity," the Rev. Henry C.
Leonard, one of these friendly triumvirs, says : —

PIGEON COVE. 165

Who of the company that used to ramble with hini
(King) will ever set foot on our sliore, or hear the stir of
leaves and the twitter of birds in our woods, without a
thought of him? Sometimes the ramblers rested an hour in
the shade of the pines where the sleeping sea, whispering as
if in dreams, just made itself heard. Then he of youthful
but regal presence, and of marvellously musical tongue, read
the poetry of Wordsworth or the prose of Euskin, making
more vital and glowing the thoughts of either. Once, after
a stroll and a refreshing bath, the same audience gave ear to
the same orator and interpreter, in the amphitlieatre-like pit of
Chapin's Gully. None of the company so favored will
ever forget the spell of the moments while he recited the
stirring, musical lines, then new to all, of Tennyson's "Bugle
Song."

Into the serious or festive moods of the citizens of
the little hamlet by the sea Mr. Chapin entered with a
quick and unaffected sympathy. On all special occa-
sions of sorrow or joy he placed his eloquence at their
service. Thus was it when the Atlantic cable had
been successfully laid, linking the two lands, England
and the United States, in immediate contact, and the
people would celebrate the event with a commingling
of gravity and festivity. He consented to be the
orator of the day, and entered mto all the arrange-
ments with a hearty co-operation. From the Pigeon
Cove House, where he boarded, were suspended the
British and American flags, with the words, " Atlantic
Telegraph," made of oak leaves sewed on a white can-
vas, stretching between the two flag-poles. England
and America were personified in the procession by two
young ladies dressed in white; and John Bull and

166 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Brother Jonathan by two men, the one short and
phimp, and the other tall and gaunt, and each clad m
character. From an old captured gun thh'teen shots
were fired in honor of the original States, and one each
for England and America. After the reading of a
poem by T. W. Higginson, the Poet of the Day, ]\Ir.
Chapin mounted the platform, and " from a humorous
introduction proceeded to consider the event in four
aspects : 1. its Utility ; 2. its Poetry ; 3. its Human-
ity ; and 4. its Divuiity, or Providential significance.
He closed with an apostrophe to the ocean and the
telegraphic wire." To the familiar hymn, sung to the
tune, " God Save the Queen," he added the following
stanza, which was chanted with emphatic fervor by a
thousand voices : —

"God keep us all in peace ;
Let truth and love increase

Both realms between.
Long may the iron band
Stretch forth from strand to strand !
God bless our Fatherland !

God bless the Queen ! "

At his boarding-place in the evening there w^as a
fine show of fireworks, and " amid the happy scene his
clarion voice often rung out in peals of laughter." The
occasion, looking to a greater fraternity of nations, had
been one to touch the deepest sentiments of his soul,
and fill him with joy.

But amid all the rest, and free and easy social life of
the seaside, Dr. Chapin never forgot his ]\Iaker, nor
neglected his daily devotions at the altar of worship.
No conditions were permitted to rule out his reverence,
or to hush his voice of prayer. He was much less a

PIGEON COVE. 167

wit than he was a worshipper, and no company, how-
ever congenial and hilarious, could lure him from his
shrine. Wherever the morning and the mid-day and
the evening found him, there he set up his altar and
suspended every interest of mind and heart that he
might engage in prayer. The spirit and habit of the
man in this respect are well disclosed by an mcident
which transpired in another place. It is related by
J. S. Dennis, who was at the time of its occurrence the
pastor of the Warren Street Universalist Society in
Boston, and an intimate friend of Mr. Chapin, who was
still a resident of that city.

When I first knew Mr. Chapin lie held his inner self
aloof, and I saw little of him when out of his pulpit, except
his levity. But gradually, and at first almost shyly, he
opened the door to his deeper questionings and longings,
and at last talked freely of his spiritual contests and vic-
tories, of his purposes and aspirations. I have heard him in
public when most commanding and eloquent, when his moral
and spiritual greatness and insight seemed more than human ;
but I have been alone with him when he moved my wonder
and reverence immeasurably more. I recall one such occa-
sion when I had driven with him out from Boston in the
bitter cold, and heard him lecture to a small and, as I
thought, stolid audience. He evidently lacked inspiration,
and we went to our cheerless hotel quarters almost silent.
Our rooms adjoined, a door opening between them. In his
room was a nearly burned-out fire. We sat before it a few
minutes, when he took from his satchel a Testament and read
John's account of our Saviour's touching address to his dis-
ciples, beginning with " I am the true vine." His voice was
low and tremulous, and at last almost a whisper. Closing the
volume, and holding it in his hands, he knelt and prayed.

168 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The prayer was not long, but it was so simple, so hurable, so
pathetic ; it so anxiously besought the Divine support and
guidance and sj^irit ; he brought his loved ones for help and
blessing Avith such tender solicitude ; he thanked Heaven
with such fervor and catholicity for the words and work of
all good men ; he left the race to tlie great providence of God
with such Cjuiet trust, and looked forward to the life beyond
with sucli childlike confidence and hope, that I said to my-
self then, and the thought has grown witli me ever since :
" What wonder that he so moves others when his whole brain
and heart and soul are so loyal, so chastened, so consecrated ! "

But this toucliing experience of Mr. Dennis was not
exceptional. Many have been thus surprised and im-
pressed by the scrupulous fidelity of Mr. Chapin to his
devotions, as well as by his simplicity and tenderness in
them. " Nothing could keep him i'rom his prayers," is
the testimony of his daughter. Thus at Pigeon Cove
he would call the merriest group to the evening worship
before retiring for the night ; and on Wednesday even-
ings, when there was a prayer-meeting at the little village
church, he would leave the happiest social circle and go
to mingle his devotions with the ten or twenty souls who
would assemble for song and prayer. It mattered not
that these were the humblest of disciples, and gathered
in the plainest of rooms, — he loved their spirit and was
helped by their sympathy, and was more than repaid by
Surrendering a festive hour for one of worship. The
Eev. Mr. Vibbert, at one time pastor of the Pigeon Cove
parish, says: "Dr. Chapin would come to our little con-
ference meeting and speak most eloquently to ten or
fifteen persons, and he \vould sometimes come when he
was so feeble that some member of the family would
follow him for fear he would fall by the way."

PIGEON COVE. 169

On each returning summer he was accustomed to give
the parish a Sunday's service which became known as
Chapin's Sunday. On this day the people, rich and
poor, boarders and citizens, flocked to hear the eloquent
preaclier : and lie made an annual appeal, at the end of
his kindling service, for contributions to defray the cur-
rent expenses of the society, hoping to draw aid from
his wealthy hearers. His meeting was. often held in
some grove, or on some rocky bluff, to give the crowd,
which would be mostly shut out of the little church, a
chance to attend and engage in the worship.

"On one occasion, never to be forgotten," writes Miss
Duley, "I lieard him at Pigeon Cove when he preached an
out-of-door sermon to a vast multitude collected, one perfect
summer day, on the rocks. He seenjed to translate to his
rapt audience the very sound of the wind and Avaves. His
topic was the Love of God. ' What else,' said he, ' will sup-
port us when the great waves are washing to our lips and
eternity is pressing in upon us ! ' "

To preach by the sea was his delight, it so inspired
him by its fresh air and its mystery and power, and fur-
nished him such grand figures of speech. In his own
poem on " The Waters " he had sung its effect on him-
self:—

" It is the soul's interpreter,

That vast, in\'sterious sea, —
A scroll from whicli the spirit reads,
And knows eternity."

But aside "from the Chapin Sunday at the Cove, he
ordinarily occupied on the sacred day, by an appoint-
ment holding over from a previous year, a pulpit in
Boston or vicinity, to which the people would crowd to
enjoy an annual feast of eloquence. On the following

170 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

morning, having made, it" possible, a hasty call at the
Universalist publishing office, and told a new story or
two to the assembled ministers, and visited a book-store
to make some purchases, he would take an early train
away from the dusty and stifled town and seek again the
grateful coolness and odor of the ocean.

Dr. Chapin was both loved and esteemed at Pigeon
Cove by its frank and trusty people, to whom he had
become a familiar presence ; and sad, indeed, were these
kindly hearts when it was apparent that he had come
there for the last time. This was in the summer of
1880. In the winter previous he had visited the place
to see his dear friend the Kev. Henry C. Leonard, who
was sick unto death. All tlie way from Xew York,
himself broken in health and haggard in look, he had
journeyed to meet his old comrade once more, and say
to him a cheerimr word, and take a final look at his
benignant face and a last grasp of his friendly hand.
Gladly the two friends met, but it was painfully evident
that both had wellnigh numbered their days on earth.
Having called at Charlestown on his way, to see the his-
torian Frothingham, who was sick and near unto death,
yet hoping for the return of health, he told Mr. Leon-
ard of this hopeful frame of mind, and said: "Well,
Henry, that is the way for sick people; if I was going
to die soon, I would not thank any one to tell me of it."
" Neither would I," said Henry. "And when Dr. Chapin
left, knowing my husband must soon die," writes Mrs.
Leonard, "it was a hand-shake and 'God bless you,
Henry,' and a parting no more to meet in tlie flesh."

Before returning to the place in the following Aug-
ust he had become a confirmed invalid, weak and

PIGEON COVE. 171

almost helpless, with many signs of the coming change
written on face and form. Meanwhile, by advice of
his physician. Dr. James R Wood, he had tried in vain
the virtue of a trip to Europe, departing on the 22d of
May and returning on the 7th of August. Eesting a
little at his home in New York, he started for the last
time on the familiar trip to Pigeon Cove, not now eager
and hilarious as of old, but patient and silent. In sad-
ness his old friends saw his helplessness, and one and
another volunteered to roll him in his invalid chair
from place to place, as a sort of sacred service. So
many and eager were the hands waiting to take their
turn at the kindly act, that the man employed for
the task was hardly permitted to perform it. But
not alone by their own hearts were these friends
compensated for their kindness, for he was still both
wise and witty, and charmed them with his rare say-
ings, while his gratitude was manifest to all. ]\Iany
were the puns perpetrated from this rolling-chair, and
some of them are cherished as among his best, and
seem glorified as the happy utterances of a dying man.
These bright strokes of wit, amid the gathering cloud
of death, seem like the fabled notes of the dying swan,
into which she pours her most cheerful tones.

As characteristic of the man it is fitting that a
couple of these bright flashes amid the shadows should
be here perpetuated. As a friend was one day rolling
him, and discovered the wheel-marks of his carriage
made on a previous day, he remarked : " I see, Doctor,
you have already left your tracks here." " Yes," re-
sponded Chapin, " I was once a popular preacher, but
all I am good for now is to go about the streets leaving

172 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

tracts (tracks.)" On one occasion some friends had
rolled liini to the residence of the Frothinghams, and
lifted him and his carriage up two or three steps on to
the veranda, that he might he one of the company there
gathered for a social hour. During his stay JMrs. Froth-
ingham rolled him about on the platform for their
mutual diversion, and also treated him to some lemon-
ade and cake. As he was about to leave he gratefully
returned his thanks, saying, " Mrs. Frothingham, you
have been very kind to me ; you have given me lem-
onade, some, cake, and a roll."

From the middle of July to the middle of September
was the ordmary period of Chapin's stay at Pigeon
Cove; and during this time he would read in his
hasty way many books and magazines, re-write an old
lyceum lecture which hard usage had worn out, or
write one on some new theme, think into form and
spirit a course of sermons for his pulpit during the
coming winter, and preoccupy his mind and heart
with texts of Scripture and topics for his more ordinary
discourses. And thus would he return to his people
with new sources of mental power, as well as a fresher
spirit and a more buoyant physical life.

" As music, when rapt voices die,
Vibrates in tlie memory,"

SO lingered the inspirations of the sea in Chapin, and
for months they reappeared in the clearness and force
of his thoughts, the ardor of his sentiments, and the
sway of his eloquence.

XT.

THE FUNEEAL.

It is a solemn hour when the gifted and powerful,
laid low by death, are borne by friendly hands to the al-
tar where the funeral rite is to be observed and the last
look taken at the honored face ; but the solemnity leaves
a deeper sadness when the distinguished departed has
lived his life out of his heart, and been a helper of souls
in the most sacred and tender ways. As the endear-
ment is thus greater, the sorrow will be the more in-
tense. Grief is born of love. The sad wail is a note
from the stricken heart. At the funeral of a mighty
statesman, if he has been only a maker or modifier of the
laws, there will be a dignified mourning, but sighs and
tears will not be conspicuous amid the 'Scene. But if
the statesman has been also a sweet and kind soul,
cheering the people in dark hours by his sympathy,
blessing them by a kindly wisdom, showing his love in
little wayside acts of humanity, like an Abraham Lin-
coln, then will there be around his bier the breaking
down of hearts, and sighs and tears will tell of the
great sorrow within.

Thus at the funeral of Dr. Chapin it was evident
that one specially dear to the people was mourned.
In every aspect of the scene it was made apparent that

174 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN.

a man of heart and sacred ministries, in which many
had shared, had passed away, and that a grateful love
sought to pay him its feeling tribute. The drapuig of
his church for the solemn hour, the hushed throng
of people, women in tears and strong men bowing in
grief, rich but plaintive music, and tender words by
friendly and eloquent lips, told the story in a most
touching way of Chapin's hold upon the affections.
The scene was a testimony, not so much to the
brilliance of his gifts, as to the strength and
beauty of his character, his simple piety and broad
humanity, his bold stand for the just and true, and
his Good Samaritan readiness to pour oil on the
wounded heart. It was not his eloquence that held
sway in this sad hour, but the finer and nobler quali-
ties of his life.

The sombre drapery of the temple was everywhere
relieved, as was fitting, by some brighter color, indi-
cating that grief was blended with gratitude and hope.
The brilliant stained glass window behind the chancel
was shrouded in black cloth, but over this were trailing
festoons of smilax, with many white roses abloom on
the flowing green. At the centre of the window was a
large tablet of white flowers, and on this snowy disk
were wrought in violets the w^ords : " He is risen." A
large floral field, from which a golden sheaf had been
gathered, bore the device : " Our Shepherd." It was a trib-
ute from the pastorless flock. The empty pulpit wore a
black robe adorned with lilies and other fragrant white
flowers. Crosses, crowns, and wreaths were placed in
every possible situation ; and waving high m the air
were triumphant palms, telling of victory on earth and

THE FUNERAL. 175

joy in heaven. The fronts of the galleries and the or-
gan were made expressive of this hopeful sorrow, by a
skilful blending of lights and shades ; and the ' large
clock, with its hands arrested at the points mdicating
the moment of his last breath, 11.47, near the midnight
hour, hung like a silent monitor wreathed with vines
and flowers. Esteem and love had done their best to
express in symbols their deep grief.

At an early hour the crowd began to gather into the
solemn temple, which the great preacher had glorified
and made a sacred shrme. As men and women took
their seats it was observed that many wept, and many
softly whispered their praises of the great and good
minister, and breathed theu" regrets that they should
never again hear his voice and feel the touch of his
mighty flaming spirit and cheering love. Eapidly and
silently the pews filled and the aisles were occupied,
save the reserved space ; and a crowd waited patiently
on the sidewalk, in the bitter December day, hoping for
admission, or desiring to see the coffin which contained
the cherished form. They must somehow do honor to
the dead preacher and friend of man.

As the funeral procession entered the church and
moved slowly up the aisle with its sacred dust, the vast
audience, rising to its feet, seemed overwhelmed with
grief, sobs were heard from all quarters, tears fell from
many eyes, hearts seemed breaking with their great sor-
row. Meanwhile, the organ was sighing the funeral
march by Mendelssohn. When the casket had been de-
posited in its place and the cortege was seated, the choir
sung the dirge, " Sleep thy last Sleep," in a hushed,
far-away tone, and the closing note was followed by a

176 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAFIN.

moment of absolute silence, as if hearts were absent
with the departed. The impressive pause was broken
by the voice of President Capen of Tufts College, who
read from the Bible and led in a simple and fitting
prayer. " Oh, rest in the Lord," was sung, and the Rev.
Dr. Pullman, appointed to conduct the services, rose
and said : —

Dearly beloved brethren, — Under the sense of a heavy,
remediless, and, for us, unspeakable loss, we have sought to dis-
charge this service in some-manner which would comport with
the dignity and simplicity of the character of our departed
brother ; and we have therefore asked our friends, some of
those who knew him and loved him, to come here and speak
the words which for us, to-day, are impossible of utterance.

The speakers were Robert Collyer, Henry Ward
Beecher, and Rev. Dr. Armitage, all of whom had
come close to the heart of Chapin, and had some rem-
iniscence of his life to set before the people, to show
him in the light in which he had impressed them. So
far as space will permit, it is fitting that their testimo-
nies, in their own words, should appear on these pages.
Mr. Collyer said : —

I could not but feel, dear friends, when I opened my paper
the other day and read that line, " Dr. Chapin dead," that a
mist of sadness had fallen on the briglitness of our Christmas
time, all over this city and all over this land. Where joy
was, there would be a touch of deep and very painful sorrow
in tens of thousands of homes, because we all know together
how deeply and tenderly our dear brother dwelt in the heart
of this nation. He was not only your friend and mine,
he was not only a brother to the ministers who have gathered
here this morning about his dust, but I always used to feel

THE FUNERAL. 177

that he had the widest and warmest friendship of almost any
man I ever knew or heard of. Long before I met him in my
residence, far away from this city and far from the scene
of his labors, in the wild western country, on the prairies
and h)ne places where a handful of men dwelt together, or in
some utterly lonesome places as I can remember as I am
speaking to you, where some one family dwelt, as it was my
lot now and then for many reasons to travel through that
country, the man of all men, of whom all men, as it seemed
to me, would speak most tenderly and lovingly, was Dr.
Chapin.

The wilderness and solitary places were glad for him ; the
desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose because he has lived
his life. Men would come here from far and wide to catch
some mighty word out of his heart, take it with them, and
it would become a mighty word in their hearts again. So
that Avord had a permanent value. Seldom can Ave pass for
good current coin, with the sealed mark on it and full weight,
through other churches and through our community. Some-
times, in proportion to the height to which a man attains in
his own denomination of Christian folks, may be tlie question-
mark that other denominations write against his name. I
have heard men of every name and denomination speak of
Dr. Chapin ; but I never to my recollection (and I have been
trying to find out if I might not be mistaken) heard a man
on this earth yet speak of him with a hut. It was always
with a loving and large loyalty, as of a man they could trust
utterly, a man they could love utterly. All over the land where
I have been travelling it has been the same ; among all the
people I have met it has been the same.

I wish I could allow myself the time to say the word
which is in my heart ; but I got up especially to say that it
has lain in my way to see him a good deal during the months
of his feebleness. We lived not far apart; and I think I was

12

178 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

very selfish about it ; for whenever I wanted to get myself
into some sort of accord with divine faith, if I could hut
think the dear man would like to see me, I would try and
persuade myself that would be the way to do it, and I would
go and talk with him. I could not help him, but I wanted
him to help me. Saturday afternoons, when the Sabbath
drew on, I wanted to feel the touch of the divine spirit ; I
went to see him ; and it was so sweet, so lovely, to be with
him an hour and have him talk with me. He did not talk
much about those mighty matters that sometimes shake the
soul and sometimes lift it up into heaven. We sat down and
talked like two brothers of many things ; once and again he
would touch the old, grand days through which he had come ;
and 1 would try to tell him in some Avay of something he
liad done, something I remembered ; and it would touch him.
But he was too humble to make much of it ; he left all that
with God. But he was so bright, so cheerful. The joy of
the Lord was his strength. I used to think that was his
secret, and having struck this mighty truth to which he con-
secrated his life so utterly, — of the love, the eternal love, the
limitless love, the perfect love of Gk)d, — he might even have
made this the psalm of his life : " When the Lord turned
again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream.
Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with
singing." The love of God was the psalm of his life. Where
is the man who has sung that psalm more grandly, more ten-
derly, or with deeper and diviner purpose 1 It is the psalm
that came out of his heart which beats no longer for us on
the earth.

]\Ir. Beecher came to the funeral of his long-tried and
genial friend, not as to a house of mourning, but to a
place where tlie notes of triumph and hope were to be
sounded. His thoughts were of a great victory won, a

THE FUNERAL. 179

worthy victor crowned, and his voice refused to fall into
the minor key. With his keen zest of health, whose
laws he scrupulously observes, his sorrow had been to
meet Dr. Chapin in the later years as one whose body,
worn and wasted, was no more an adequate instrument
for his grand and fiery genius. He had compassion on
the ardent intellect and teeming heart which were set at
a sad diasdvantage by their alliance with a broken ma-
chine, which seemed to have got beyond the possibility
of repairs. He saw the time had arrived for his eman-
cipation, and that he was fitly called from bondage to
liberty. He said : —

I suppose that I have been asked to be present and take
part in these services because I knew Dr. Chapin and because
I loved him. I did know him; I did love him. We were
thrown together for a whole voyage, and we were thrown
together for short journeys many, many times, and we met
together in various Avays and divers places. And he was of
that nature that once having opened himself and mingled his
confidence with reciprocal confidence, there never could be
any pause or hesitation afterward.

I am not come here, my friends, to mourn, nor to help any
that mourn to mourn more. When the apostle declared at
the close of his life that he had fought a good fight, that he
had kept the faith, that the time of his departure was at
hand, that a crown was laid up for him, he did not intend
that to be a requiem, nor the key-note to sorrow. We do not
grieve when the young man steps out well equipped in life,
with prospects before him ; and yet that is the time for sor-
row, if any. When a man has fought life's battle all the way
through and victoriously come to the end, that is no time for
sorrow. Here has a great battle been fought, and a complete
victory has been won; and I am here to congratulate you,

180 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

members of tliis Christian communion, and I am here also to
minister to those who are so near and so dear, as tliat their
very love, so twined with the charities of his love, will be
filled Avith the gladness that ought to attend the departure of
a soul so radiant as his was. I thank God that he has gone,
that the golden door has opened. On the other side of life no
sun shall go down again, and no winter shall come again to
him. He stands where God is the light, and where the heart
of God, through love, gives love and joy and every pleasant
thing. Shall I mourn over h.im1 I thank God for what he
was. Every man has the chart of what he is to be marked
out in him at birth. He was the son of an ancestry that
inherited the promises of God; and he received as his birth-
right the accumulated moral tendencies that belong to a New
England Puritan ancestry. It worked out in this, that moral
considerations lay at the base of every consideration through-
out his life. I thank God that be gave to him that moral
courage that has enabled him on some great questions to take
the right side, and, having taken it, to fight, not with bloody
weapons, nor with bitterness, nor with wrath, nor with ascetic
conscience, but with love. It was tliat spirit of sympathy
with mankind that allied him to the great Redeemer and to
the fundamental conception of the High Priest, — one that
could have compassion on the ignorant, and on those that
are out of the way. His great heart went out to those that
needed him.

There are two styles of instructors, both honorable ; one of
whom makes conscience the standpoint, and finally brings in
love as an argument and accompaniment of the result. The
other takes love for the standpoint, and brings in conscience
as a discriminating element, a measuring and dividing influ-
ence. This is seldom absolutely pure. Men that have the
element of benevolence also are more or less equipped with
conscience. Men of a stern conscience have, though you

THE FUNERAL. 181

cannot find it always, a centre of sympathy and love. But
Dr. Chapin belonged to that number whose soul was filled
with love. The irrepressible personality of his disposition
carried him in those ways that should give the largest sweep
and scope to love ; and all his deeds in life were inevitably
influenced by that central element in his temperament, a
spirit of sympathy with the nnfortunate ; and it made his
life and that of tliose around about him blessed.

His mind travelled very widely, — not as an explorer, but as
one travels round and round the globe to bring home some-
thing of the scientific treasures that belong to the air and to
the sea and to every land. He kept himself in the front line
of what was thought and what was found out by every prin-
cipal man in his day and generation. Neither in his mind
was it a heterogeneous mass, inchoate and undigested. He
had a singular power of melting into his personality what-
ever he gathered from other persons ; when it came to him
afterwards it was his. I am not an ox because I eat ox ; I
turn it into myself, and make it work as I want it to work.
He was not all other men because he took from them ; he
took it into his own economy and his own disposition, and it
was his. He had the power, too, of making the greatest use
of things that in themselves were sometimes coarse, and cer-
tainly homely and of little account. As in the kaleidoscope
you may take a bit of glass, a button, a hundred little things
of no worth when alone, but once shut up in that darkened
glass they fall into forms of beauty, into every figure conceiv-
able. So it Avas in the power of Dr. Chapin's mind to throw
abroad his net and bring in everything, and when he came to
use his acquisitions, how symmetrical and kaleidoscopic they
finally became !

"With all these gifts in him, he never sought himself; he
was not a self-praiser ; he did not walk about in an atmos-
phere of self-consciousness. He had the sense of humility

182 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

that apparently, as it were, drew him inward to a deeper
consciousness.

It is a great thing to liave been permitted to live as he
lived, and what he did nobody knows now. He was a seed
sower. Don't look for him in his coffin ; I know he is not
here ; he has risen. Don't look for him in his church. But
look where you please, only God knows how great was his
wealth of influences, how diverse, widespread, and differing
in their elements. He has made himself a part of his day
and generation, — a monument, if there could be a monument.
As there can be no monument to the sea, so can there be no
monument to a man who has diffused his spirit throughout
the whole breadth of the ocean of humanity. It is a great
thing to have lived a healthy life, continually having that life
consecrated to the best end of human life, — a life of conscious
daily communion with God, a life of love, a life of trust.
Such was his life. JSTow the best part of it has begun. The
infirmities that clouded his later days are over forever. It
was as if a bath of pain were needful to appear before the
King. God gave him what discipline He knew to be needful
for him, and at last He has taken him ; and I am here to say
to him, " Hail ! and farewell ! " — for a little time, for a little
time. He walks in glory, and we go darkly on yet a few
days.

Between Dr. Chapin and Dr. Armitage, of the Fifth
Avenue Baptist Church, there had ripened through
thirty years of pleasant intercourse the full bloom of
friendship, and it was fitting that the voice of the latter
should be heard in this solemn hour when love and
memory and hope were alike busy. Speaking in high
terms of his friend's piety, his loyalty to Christ and
his love of man, he dwelt mainly on a personal inter-
view with him near the end of his days, when the

THE FUNERAL. 183

sands of life had wellnigh run out of the mystic glass.
He said : —

Two weeks ago to-day, just before the setting of the sun, I
went from the side of a loved friend, whom I had buried, to
the bedside of Dr. Chapin, not supposing that a couple of
bnef weeks would bring us to the parting and him to the
dust. It is my custom in entering a sick-chamber, especially
the sick-room of a friend, to enter very cheerfully, trying to
carry a beam of sunshine if I think it is possible, and utter a
word of cheer. How beautifully he greeted that visit. I
found him in his study, lying upon a sofa. The moment I
entered his room, and Mrs. Chapin announced the name, he
tried to rise ; and, rising perhaps half-way, he said, " I am
delighted to see you ; come in, thou blessed of the Lord."

I saw that his mind was clear, but in half an hour's con-
versation there were now and then slight lapses of memory.
All the other faculties of heart and soul seemed to be active.
We entered into a very cheerful conversation about you, dear
brethren, as a church, about your future — much more about
you than himself. I said to him in a semi-playful way :
" Now, Dr. Chapin, you know that ministers' wives always
say that they have no pastor, and I am sure that we pastors
have none. Will you allow me to-day^ as your old-time
friend, to be your pastor?"

He smiled, put out his hand, and said, " Welcome, pastor,
welcome."

" Now," I said, " in doing pastoral duty, Doctor, let me
call your attention to the beautiful words of our common
Master, who said to his disciples : ' Go preach, and Lo ! I am
with you all days, even to the end of the world ' " — quoting
the passage from the version of 1 380. " Now, " I said,
" Doctor, what a wonderful opening of the Redeemer's mind
this promise grants, you : Lo ! I am with you all days ! In
days of prosperity when in the pulpit, in days of adversity

184 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPEST.

when in the sick-room, in days of sunshine, in days of dark-
ness, in days of full power, and in days of full weakness."

He said, " How precious that is I "

I said : "Doctor, do you realize now the sweetness of the
promise of Christ in your broken condition ] "

He looked at me with the simplicity of a babe ; but I saw
a tear moisten his eye and a little tremulousness mingled with
his voice, as he said : " My dear brother, what should I do
without Christ 1 Christ is everything to me now." So he
spoke of the loving Eedeemer.

I said ; "Well then, may I have this consolation. Doctor,
of knowing that you, who have been in the ministry so long,
labored so hard, done so much to lift up other minds and
pour consolation into disconsolate hearts, — that you to-day
realize the same breadth and fullness and sweetness of con-
solation in Christ that you have ministered to others'?"

He simply made this answer : " Doctor, Christ to me is
all in all."

I asked him if it would be pleasant to have a word of
prayer. He made an effort to rise, as if he greeted the prop-
osition with great joy. I said : " No, Doctor, you can't rise ;
do nothing ; lie quietly, and I will kneel at your side with
my hand in yours ; let us give each other to God our Father
to-day."

He said, " Well, we will," I bent at his side, and with
such simplicity and brotherly love and confidence in God as
I could summon, sought the blessing of heaven upon him.
He joined in the prayer ; he buried his brow in one hand,
and held my hand with the other. He seemed to glow with
love. I asked the Lord to give him strength, and if possible
to spare him to the Church, and presented those wishes at the
Throne of Grace which any of your hearts would prompt un-
der similar circumstances. At the close of a brief prayer, as
I said " Lord, Lord, grant these things to thy servant for

THE FUNERAL. 185

Jes*us Christ's sake," holding my hand with a firm grip, and
lifting up his eyes toward heaven, iu the same ringing, fer-
vent, strong voice that you have heard so often from his lips,
his whole nature said, " Amen ! "

Eeferring to what had been said of Chapin's love of
Christ, Dr. Pullman, m a brief closing address, added
these fitting words : —

"Whoever has spent a day in his house, Avhoever has
joined him in the simple morning service, in which he
acknowledged God and the mercies of the day, had there an
insight into the simplicity of that heart, which was as a little
child's in the midst of all the gifts and graces with which he
was endowed. Know his Saviour 1 Love his Lord Christ?
"Why, men and brethren, it was that that set him in this pul-
pit, and that kept him there, and that made the late dark
days of life all open and bright before him.

But the best tribute paid to Dr. Chapin was the as-
sembly itself which gathered around him. It was a
notable body of people, attesting the order of his merits,
the scope of his influence, the range of his friendships.
Every one had plucked some flower or fruit from his
tree of life, and came to cast an evergreen in his coffin.
Here were those graced with the richest scholarship of
the time, and those for whom the schools had done little.
Here the rich and the poor met in a common sorrow.
Genius came to confess its loss, and the weak in faith to
lament that the strong staff on which they leaned had
been broken. Those he had morally braced to meet the
temptations of life, and such as felt themselves to be
spiritually his children, were present to do him honor.
Here met the white heads and tottering forms from the
Chapin Home, and the fresh and sportive children and

186 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

youth from the Sunday School; and from all sects 'of
Christians, the devout ones came to confess him a
brother in Christ, and to rejoice that a crown had been
given him in heaven.

Some months after the service Mr. Beecher said to
the writer of these pages : " The audience at Chapin's
funeral was remarkable. It came the nearest bemg a
representation of the Church Universal I ever saw, or
am likely to see in the flesh. Chapin made no sores.
His thoughts were sweet and noble, and everybody be-
lieved in him. Not another minister in New York
could draw such a diversity of people to his burial."
The city papers noted and commented on this aspect of
the congregation, and one of them printed the following
classified but partial list of clergymen in attendance : —

Rev. Dr. James M. Pullman, of the Church of Our Sav-
iour ; Rev. Dr. E. H. Capen, President of Tufts College ;
Rev. S. A. Gardiner, of the Third Church, and Rev. Almon
Gunnison, of All Souls' Church, Brooklyn, — all promi-
nent Universalist ministers ; Rev. Dr. N. F. Morgan, of St.
Thomas's Church ; Rev. Dr. John Cotton Smith, of the Church
of the Ascension ; Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, of Trinity Church ;
Rev. Dr. R. S. Rowland, of the Church of the Heavenly Rest ;
Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., of the Church of the Holy
Trinity ; Rev. C. C. Tiffany, of Zion Church, Madison Avenue ;
Rev. Dr. F. C. Ewer, of the Church of St. Ignatius ; and Rev.
Edmund Guilbert, of the Church of the Holy Spirit, — all rep-
resentatives of the Protestant Episcopal pulpit ; Rev. Henry
Ward Beecher, of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn ; Rev. Dr.
William M. Taylor, of the Broadway Tabernacle ; Rev. Dr.
John Hall, of the Fifth Avenue Church ; Rev. Llewellyn D.
Be van, of the Brick Church ; Rev. C. S. Robinson, of the
Memorial Church ; Rev. Thomas S. Hastings, of the West

THE FUNERAL. 187

Church, Eev. S. D. Burchard, of the Murray Hill Church ;
Rev. M. R. Vincent, of the Church of the Covenant ; and Eev.
James D. Wilson, of the United Church, — all Presbyterians ;
Rev. Dr. Thomas Armitage, of the Fifth Avenue Church, and
Rev. R. S. MacArthur, of Calvary Church, — Baptists ; Rev.
Dr. William Ormiston, of the Collegiate Church at Fifth
Avenue and Twenty-ninth Street, and Rev. E. B. Coe, of the
Collegiate Church at Forty-eighth Street, — both Reformed
Dutch ; Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman, of tlae Central Methodist
Church ; Rev. Robert Collyer, of the Church of the Messiah,
and Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows, of All Souls' Church, —
Unitarians; Rev. Father Hecker, Roman Catholic; and Rev.
Dr. Gottheil, of the Temple Eraanu El, Jewish.

One can but wish that from some eminence the spirit
of the great preacher and broad-church disciple may
have looked down on this scene, which was so much
like a consummation of his early dream and the ideal of
his whole life. On some higher ground, common to
all the sects, he desired to have Christians meet and
fellowship each other ; and that his own coffin should be
beyond precedent the visible centre of such an assem-
blage, must have seemed to him, had he witnessed it,
like a benediction on the idea he had so long cherished
and so earnestly advocated. It must have been a joy
to him to have known that he himself had preached
the gospel they all accepted, and lived so much
in its spirit that they came up from the churches of
every name to confess him a brother in Christ, and
to crown his memory with a common wreath of esteem
and praise. It was, indeed, a fit tribute to the breadth
of his religion and the scope of his humanity. He
loved them all, and they in return loved him, and
it was a scene on which heaven could smile, as these

188 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

brethren, forgetting tlieir sectarian names, came in the
broader name of the Eedeemer to do honor to one who
had been his humble but devoted disciple.

When the mipressive service had ended, and the
throng of people had silently and thoughtfully moved
away, the funeral procession took up its solemn march
to Greenwood Cemetery, where the honored dust was
laid to its final rest. But the vision of that form thus
laid low still remains, the echo of that voice now
hushed in the grave is heard all over the land, and the
generous beat of that ardent heart, now so quiet, is yet
felt by a grateful multitude.

XIL

THE TEIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE.

For immediate mastery over man there are two
rivals, IMusic and Eloquence ; but to which belongs the
crown of ascendancy it may not be easy to decide. It
may be held by some that Art and Letters should be
counted among rivals for instant impressiveness ; and
it is to be granted that Picture, Statue, and Book bear
a marked sway at the moment of their contact with
the soul. "The room in the Dresden Gallery where
stands the Sistine Madonna alone," says a thoughtful
traveller, " is always filled with visitors, men and
women, from all parts of the world. They sit en-
chanted before the celestial vision of purity, sweetness,
patience, tenderness. . . . The silence is scarcely dis-
turbed by a whisper, never by a loud voice. The
people enter and depart as if the place were a temple.
Many sit there by the hour, and more than once I saw
tears start from the gazing eyes, and roll down worn
faces unchecked." Wide and deep and powerful is
the instant sway of the great paintings, and especially
over those whose sensibilities are prepared to receive
their influence ; and to the chiselled marble, given the
form and only lacking the life of greatness and grace,
belongs a vivid impressiveness; while many are the

190 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

books before which their readers are spellbound and
borne into rare hours of exaltation and renewal
When Montaigne called books a " languid pleasure,"
he must have had in mind, not the volumes through
which genius pours its fine and fiery tides on us, but
the more common order of literature. On the contrary,
a book may raise a tumult in our minds, set our hearts
into a more rapid and hardy beat, and drive sleep
from our eyes through all the watches of the long
night.

But while we may grant to Art and Letters the credit
of a direct influence which is indeed great, still must
we accord to Music and Oratory a higher rank as agents
that work instant stirring effects in the mind and heart
of man ; and their advantage lies in this, that while
the artist is absent from his art and the author from
his book, the musician and orator, coming with the
same messages borne by Picture and Sculpture and
printed page, are on hand in their own inspired person-
alities to enforce their arguments and appeals. They
give themselves with their gifts. Thus Music and
Eloquence are called by Plato the " living arts ;" and as
they come glowing from the heat of the spirit, they
kindle and inflame as no other arts can. Apart from
life they are nothing, but when this mystic force, in
the degree in which it abounds in genius, is added to
great ideas and sentiments, we havo the very climax
of human power over man.

But to which of these two rivals for direct impres-
sion and sway we should assign the first rank, may be
as difficult a question to settle as that on which the
owl is said to be ever musing by day, — namely, whethei

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 191

the egg or the owl came first in the order of the crea-
tion. On one ground, at least, the claim of eloquence
seems to entitle it to precedence as a potency : while it
may be as impassioned as music, it addresses more of
the group of gifts which make up the greatness of
human nature and constitute the basis of feeling and
action. It touches more of the strmgs in the living
harp, and draws a deeper and more various music. It
reaches with its mighty hand the rarer keys in the
organ of life, and awakens the stronger chords and the
more passionate notes. It is the chief mission of music
to stir and enchant the esthetic sensil)ilities, whose
main end is their own gi'atifi cation. It is mostly a
pleasure-giving art, and as such it may surpass oratory.
Eut it is the office of the latter, while not leaving the
finer emotions untouched, to command the leason with
a logic wholly outside the sphere of music, to arouse
the conscience by appeals to which music can give no
clear and strong voice, and to awaken, by more explicit
teachings, the sentiments of reverence and humanity. It
is a broader and stronger art. As it engages more of
the powers of genius in its creation and deliverance, so
it pours along as a fuller and more diverse tide or tor-
rent of inspiration and j)0wer.

Hence the triumphs of oratory make a conspicuous
chapter in the annals of man ; and among those
triumphs there are none, perhaps, more marked m our
day than those attained by Dr. Chapin. In him the
secret of eloquence, caught by so few of the sons of
men, was held as a scarcely diminished inheritance
from the greatest masters of speech ; and it is no dis-
credit to the very elect of oratory to add his name to

192 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the short roll. As we would place a Tennyson or Long-
fellow in the small group of great poets, so would we
rank a Chapin with the limited Land of famous speak-
ers, by whom audiences have been hushed into a rapt
silence or roused to a tumult of enthusiasm.

His eloquence took a wider range and reached a more
general audience than that of most of the great orators,
while its effect seemed not to be abridged by its breadth ;
and since he spake thus on universal themes in terms
conniion to the simple and the wise, his praises have
been spoken in all quarters and by every class. Many
a child has confessed to the sway of his words.

Eev. 0. F. Safford writes : —

I was foiu'teen years old when I first saw and heard Cha-
pin, and I distinctly recall my sensations under his oratory.
As soon as lie began to speak I Avas hfted into a trance. I
had tlie sense of music, and of all beautiful things. Never
before had I felt such a transforming power in human si^eech.
Something like twenty-eight years have passed away since
then, — so I am astonished to find, — yet I can now recall
that address in all its points, my memory of it remains so
distinct. It was spoken with the accompaniment of the rag-
ing storm ,• the flashes of the lightning through the AvindoAvs
seemed harmonious Avith the continual blaze of his spirit, and
the reverberating thunder seemed the proper echo to his
intensely emphatic Avords. It Avas Avondrous music Avith a
Avondrous accompaniment. In closing he painted a AA'ord-
picture of a sunrise in the Alps, as a symbol of the spread
of light and virtue among the people, — a piece of fervid elo-
quence absolutely overAvhelming in its dramatic vividness
and moral grandeur. When he had closed and taken his
seat, for some moments, even minutes they must have been,
the audience remained transfixed, breathless, spellbound.

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 193

INTo one could move or speak. Every one in the hall had
been seemingly magnetized by the orator. At last the chair-
man rose and crossed the platform to where Chapin sat. This
broke the spell. Some one now began to applautl ; s(ion the
applause became general, and increased almost to wildiicss.
As I went home that night I was scarcely conscious of walk-
ing on the earth.

This boy's rapture was much like that of young
Hazlitt, who walked ten miles to hear Coleridge preach,
and who returned to his home to make this record in
his diary of the poet's oratory : "His words seemed like
sounds from the bottom of the human heart, and I could
not have been more delighted if I had heard the music
of the spheres." ♦

Another witness to the impression made by Chapin's
eloquence on childhood is found in the following pleas-
ant reminiscence from the pen of Eev. J. Smith Dodge.
It was given in the presence of Dr. Chapin, at the twen-
ty-fifth anniversary of his settlement in New York: —

I don't know how many years ago it was — I was a little
boy then, and it must have been pretty soon after the Society
Avent into the Murray Street Church, — that one Sunday even-
ing my father proposed to me to go down with him and hear
Mr. Chapin preach : —

" N'o, I thank yon," said I.

" Well, why not 1 " asked he.

" Why 1 Because it's no use my going to clmrcli in the
evening ; I always go to sleep."

"Well, but you won't go to sleep here," said my father.

" Oh yes I shall ; I have tried not to do it a great many
times in different churches ; but it is no use my going, I shall
surely go to sleep."

13

194 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

" Now," said my father, " if you will go with ]ue and hear
him preach, and you get to sleep while he is preaching, I
will give you half a dollar,"

Well, that was an inducement which surpassed anything
as yet proposed to me that afternoon, and I now consented to
go down to Murray Street. We lived in Bond Street. There
were no horsecars, and the omnibuses did not run on Sun-
day. I remember it was in the cold season of the year, and
we had a pretty brisk walk. Of course I did not expect to
go to sleep immediately after taking my seat, and I listened
through the opening service, and heard the music and what
else there was, until the preacher stood up to preach. And
now for my half dollar ! You must understand that I am a
good sleeper ; I have slept on steamboats, close to the machin-
ery. I have slept, in the aggregate, thousands of miles- in
railroad cars. I have slept at the Cataract House with the
window open and Niagara just outside. But I did not sleep
there. Chapiu was too much for me ; and if you will believe
me, through the whole course of the long sermon, that re-
morseless man kept my eyes wdde open and my mind on the
strain.

Alike did he impress and arouse the rude fisherman,
the rough miner, and the subtle philosopher, as we
may learn from the testimony of his early parishioner
and eminent friend, Starr King. It was a story King
liked to tell, how a Pigeon Cove mackerel-catcher com-
plimented the eloquent preacher on the mastery of his
speech. As he was rowing the two famous ministers
in his dory on an August day to the fishing-grounds,
Mr. King asked him if he ever went to church. " No,"
said he, " I never goes to meetin', but I am goin' to hear
Old Chapin who comes round here every summer, for
my clmmmies say he 's a buster." This humble but not

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 195

insignificant praise was enjoyed by King in an uproar
of laughter, and by Cliapin in an unsuccessful attempt
at silence. But some years later the former wrote
from California, after a trip through the gold-diggings,
" In the mining regions, among the foot-hills of the
Sierras, in huts amid the rocky grandeur of the Yo-
semite, I have heard men speak in gratitude of sermons
heard, years ago in New York, from Dr. Chapin."

But while giving thus the testimony of the rude and
humble to the effective eloquence of his friend, in yet
more emphatic terms does King speak of the sway of
that eloquence over his own soul. He says : —

I have been moved by Dr. Chapin in recent years, as
many thousands have been, in the midst of great assembhes,
when the cloven tongue of fire sat upon his soul, and the
divine afflatus moved through his nature, as a gust through
au organ. All that his conscious thought did was to touch
the keys. The volume and swell and sweep of the music
were of tlie Holy Ghost, flowing now in a wild surge through
his passionate imagination, and waking the noblest chords of
the religious nature of his hearers to devout joy, — now in a
simple passage of melody from the heart, plaintive and tender,
that persuaded tears from the sternest eye. He seemed to
me, then, to be not a single nature, but the substance of a
hundred souls compacted in one, to be used as an inspiring
instrument in the service of the loftiest truths.

In a jubilant strain of compliment at a May Festival
of Universalists in Faneuil Hall, Starr King responded
to a sentiment in honor of absent friends, thus allud-
ing to the great orator : — ,

Wliat can be said fitly, by any single speaker, when we
come to another name that is in all your minds'? What can

196 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

be said that is adequate of E. H. Chapin, — God bless him !
Call upon the band to respond with all its instruments, if
you would do proper honor to him, and to the feeling of this
assembly for him. Nay, sir, some great organ should be
wakened in answer to his name. Let the master draw the
diapason, and open the pedal of the great leviathan of music,
and he cannot let loose such a thrilling surge of passion as
has swept this hall when Chapin has poured from his breast
stormy denunciations of injustice, and fervid prophecies of
future good ; and then let him draw the sweetest flute-stop,
and he cannot pour out melody so pleading and pathetic as
the Holy Spirit breathes through the tender, sunny, and
melting tones in whicli Chapin portrays and illustrates the
infinite love.

If it "was a sign of military genius in Napoleon that
he quelled the French mob with cannon balls, it must
surely be a mark of oratorical power in Chapin that he
subdued with words a riotous demonstration in New
York. The scene may be best painted in the words of
Eev. Dr. Bellows, who was a witness of it.

I recall an incident which happened in the very first years
of his ministry in this city, and nearly thirty years ago, when
at a public dinner, where a military company were either guests
or escort or both, an uproar arose under the influence of wine,
which threatened the whole occasion with disgrace. Tlie
presiding officer and several of the public men present tried
in vain to still the tumult and bring tlie disorderly military,
already coming to blows, to their senses. The disorder in-
creased and seemed uncontrollable, when suddenly Dr.
Chapin rose, and in tones of thunder, and with now a com-
manding and now a pleading authority and deference of
manner, and a swelling eloquence, half humorous, half stern
rebuke, addressed the boisterous rioters. In a short time, he

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 197

actually outstormed their fuiy, amused, abashed, aud out-
witted their temper, interested and moved them to forget
their quarrel, and did not sit down until he had coaxed and
cowed and subdued the rioters by a tremendous disj)lay of
personal energy and consummate tact and an overwhelming
flood of eloquence and persuasion. It was the greatest
triumph of off-hand speech, used in the most effective way,
at the most useful and critically perilous moment, that I have
ever witnessed. It saved the occasion, and spared the com-
pany, what was becoming every moment more probable, the
necessity of breaking up and leaving the place, at the very
commencement of the intellectual part of the festival, in the
hands of a mob of half-tipsy and thoroughly self-abandoned
and quarrelsome persons.

In 1850 Mr. Cliapiu made his first trip to Europe as
the travelling companion of B. B. IMussey, Esq., of
Boston, by whose generous p)urse his expenses were
defrayed. In the sailing-vessel, the " New World," the
voyage was made in twenty-one days, and before Mr.
Chapin saw again his native land, although the journey
was a brief one, he had made some oratorical triumphs
which are still graphic memories with those who heard
them, and which survive in both English and American
records.

As fellow voyagers on this vessel the Eev. Henry
"Ward Beecher and Chapin met for the first time, and
begun a friendship which, growing with the years, proved
the source of much mutual delight and benefit. The
two men were wont to meet ever after only to have
their wit kindle and flash, and a current of more serious
thought set pouring through their minds. The eminent
orators fell sick on the ocean, but finally rallied as the

198 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

vessel passed into an unusual calm, in which there was
little movement ahead, but a regular lifting up and let-
ting down of the craft on the recurrent waves. After
some days of this wearisome delay the two men met on
the deck in the early morning, and Mr. Beecher's salu-
tation was : " Well, Chapin, we are still steadfast and
unmovable." " Yes," was the reply, "but we are always
a-bounding."

But these knights of the golden tongue could not be
let off without some speech-making to their fellow-
passengers. The commander of the vessel, Captain
Knight, was a good man, a friend of the temperance
reform, something of an orator, and a great lover of
eloquence, and he called for two addresses on temper-
ance. " Chapin was well over his seasickness, and made
a rouser," says Mr. Beecher; "but I spoke sickishly, and
the Captain told me if I could not speak better than that
on shore, he would never come to hear me preach."

It was, however, before the Peace Congress at Frank-
fort-on-the-Main, to which Mr. Mussey was a delegate,
that Chapin made one of the most thrilling speeches of
his life. The theme was to him a familiar and favorite
one ; the occasion was one of world-wide significance ;
the importunity of the American delegates that he
should speak hatl been urgent, and he came to the plat-
form with all his ra're gifts at their best.

Eev. J. W. Hanson, D. D., writes, nearly twenty years
after the event : —

The scene passes before my mind's eye as though it
occurred yesterday. I had repeatedly solicited him to speak
as the exponent of the Liberal Church in America, repre-
sented in the Congress by Rev. J. T. Sargent of Boston,

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 199

Eev. Dr. Hall of Providence, Eev. W. C. George, B. B. Mus-
sey, myself, and possibly others, but he had declined. I
personally soliciteel Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith,
himself worthy of being named among the orators of the
age, to invite him, but M'as assured that the rule had been
adopted to announce no speaker who had not previously con-
sented to respond, and that Mr. Chapin had declined his
urgent invitation to address the Convention. Disappointed,
we concluded that our church must go unrepresented, for
who would venture to speak on such an occasion, when he
who should be heard was silent 1

Cobden, Liebig, Coquerel, Girardin, George Dawson, and
other less distinguished men had spoken eloquently. When
the German Baron presiding announced Herr Shahpeen, the
unfamiliar sound excited no interest in me till I saw the well-
recognized figure moving toward the tribune.

Let the reader imagine a circular room surmovmted by a
dome, containing three thousand people of different nation-
alities, — perhaps three hundred English, as many French,
thirty Americans, and, with the exception of a few of other
countries, the rest German. There was no especial expect-
ancy on the part of the multitude, for perhaps not more than
ten in the vast throng had ever heard him speak. Cobden,
in a vice-president's chair, was writing indifferently. The
orator mounted the rostrum, we fancied, with a little embar-
rassment. His first sentence rung like a clarion on the
delighted ears of the multitude. Before it was finished Cob-
den raised his pen and turned his head to listen, and, drop-
ping his pen, lifted his hand into the position for rendering
applause; and with the end of the sentence he gave the signal,
which was responded to by the English present, as only the
English people can respond, and was taken up by the Amer-
icans and prolonged by the rest, most of whom could not
understand a word spoken, but who knew from the tones of

200 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the voice, the action of the speaker, and that indefinable
magnetism that goes to the soul, that the impassioned orator
was before them. Indeed, one little Frenchman was perfectly-
wild with gesticulation ; hands, feet, shoulders, body, were
all in motion as though he were hung on wires. Elihu Bur-
ritt, addressing him in French, inquired if he understood the
speaker. " Oui, oui," was the answer, smiting his heart with
vehement emphasis, where, no doubt, the orator found a re-
sponse, though his hearers understood not a word of English.

I kept my eyes on Cobden, who held one hand upraised
during each sentence, and brought it upon the other at the
pause, when the enthused throng, taking its cue from him,
went into paroxysms of enthusiasm. Women waved their
kerchiefs, men swung their hats. The noise of hands
and feet and cheers filled the air at the end of nearly every
sentence. We never saw such enthusiasm. All the rest of
the speakers produced nothing like it. . . . The language
and sentiments were worthy of the great occasion, I had
previously heard the speaker in the pulpit and on the plat-
form, and recognized, passage after passage, the gems of sev-
eral grand sermons and lectures ; but they belonged to the
subject and occasion as thoroughly as though then and there
conceived, and all were woven together in one splendid tissue,
as if the inspiration of the moment had created the sublime
thought, the magnificent diction, the divine utterance. I
never listened to an eff'ort apparently more extemporaneous,
nor one more finished and perfect ; nor did I ever see an
audience hang so spellbound on the lips of man. For forty
minutes, that seemed scarcely five, the sublimest sentiments,
embodied in words of golden fire, poured into all souls and
inspired all — as we venture to say none of them were before
or have been since wrought upon. For myself, I sat breath-
less, delighted, proud of our cause and the man who could
thus represent it.

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE, 201

In this Peace Congress, held in the Parliament House
of Germany, was an American Indian whose wild heart
had been tamed by the spirit of Christianity, and who
went as a delegate from his tribe, the Ojibways, to bear
their Pipe of Peace to the assembled sons of the gentle
liedeemer. His Indian name was Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh,
but he had taken the Enghsh name, Copway, to mark
his conversion and set himself in easier commerce with
the outside world, as it was the custom with ancient
travellers to take a name familiar to the people they
were about to visit. His presence in the Congress was
the occasion of great curiosity and enthusiasm. A
correspondent of an English paper wrote : —

The ladies direct their eyes no longer to the finely bearded
men on the left ; the beardless Indian Chief, with the noble
Roman profile and the l<jng shining, black liair, takes their
attention. He bears in his hand a long and mystically orna-
mented staff which looks like a princely sceptre, and wears a
dark blue frock, Avitli a scarf over his shoulders, and bright
metallic plates on his right arm. The Frankforters are sorry
he wears a modern hat, instead of a cap with feathers, yet
this mixture of European elegance with Indian nature has a
striking effect, which is increased by the reflection that he
has come from the forests of the New World with a message
of Peace to the Old World.

On this aboriginal, as well as on Cobden or Girardin,
the great speech of Chapin fell like a whirlwind. In
the following simple narrative he has left his remem-
brance of the scene : —

I might have done something toward leaving a good im-
pression of the speaking powers of an aboriginal American,
had not a portly Yankee come forward and taken from my

202 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

hand the laurels. But glad I am that it is an American who
has won the best expression of feeling and approbation from
the people. The speeches of Girardin and the matter-of-fact
Cobden had shaken the pillars of the immense building in
which the multitude were assembled, but the S2yecch was yet
to be delivered. The name of Chapin was called, and the
man who answered to that name passed by my side and went
up to the tribune. No sooner had he commenced speaking
than there was felt to be something beyond the power of
language, or the mere expression of ideas. Tlie audience
listened. Frequent applause escaped the assembly. He enu-
merated the reasons why \Ve should expect peace, and the
blessings which flow from it. In a few Avords, in vivid flashes,
he pictured the whole course of improvement and reform
which had followed the invention of the printing-press. The
Bible was on its way ; the sails of every land, and the
mighty power of steam, were urging on the period of univer-
sal peace ; oceans, lakes, rivers, air, electricity, all tilings
were in motion to spread the event which is the desire of the
nations. As he closed, the applause of the assembly made
the very building tremble. In the midst of this thundering
applause he again passed me, and as soon as he sat down I
arose, not knowing what I was doing, and said it was well
worth while to come four thousand miles to make such an ad-
dress ; and then sitting down and turning to my English
friends I whispered, " Beat that if you can ! " Certainly this
was very injudicious, inasmuch as it might have been con-
strued into an insult ; but I coidd not help it, for my nerves
had been so run away Avith that I lost all my self-command.

The English papers spoke in terms of unsparing praise
of this American orator. One of them declared : —

He commands admiration by the kingly majesty and
sublime beauty of his thought. Now he flings a page of

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 203

meaning into a single aphorism ; now he electrifies his spell-
bound hearers with a spontaneous burst of eloquence ; now
he dissolves their eyes to tears by a wizard stroke of pathos ;
now he controls their hearts with the sovereign power of a
monarch who rules the mind-realm. He infuses his soul into
his voice, and both into the nerves and hearts of his hearers.

On his return to Liverpool to embark for America,
the citizens demanded of him a speech, and he ad-
dressed an enthusiastic crowd in one of the Largest
halls in the city. Of this effort the following report
is from the "Liverpool JMercury": —

Rev. E. H. Chapin of New York, the gentleman whose out-
burst of eloquence made such an impression at the Peace
Congress at Frankfort, delivered an address on Temperance,
on Tuesday evening, at the Tuckerman Institute, the Eev. F.
Bishop in the chair. The room Avas crowded to excess, and
never was deeper impression produced at such a meeting than
that which followed the appeals of this eloquent orator. He
carried the audience completely with him, at one moment
rousing their consciences by enforcements of the duty of the
temperate to aid the movement for the sake of their perishing
brethren, and at the next awakening all their better sym-
pathies by the pathos with which he depicted the personal,
social, and moral evils that flow so plentifully from intemper-
ance. At the close of the address, a large number of persons
pressed forward, evidently under deep emotion, to join the
Temperance Society connected with the Institute.

But the oratorical triumphs and honors of this Euro-
pean trip were not at an end yet. On the home-hound
vessel, as on the ship that bore him to the Old World,
he gave his fellow voyagers a sense and a memory of
the majesty and beauty and sway of human speech

204 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

that stands solitary in the scope of their experience.
The story is best told in the words of Mr. John E.
Warren, who himself made a part of the scene : —

In the year 1850 I had the good fortune to be a fellow-
passenger with Dr. Chapin on the return voyage from Eu-
rope to the United States. The trip was an unusuaUy long
and stormy one. Our vessel, which was one of the old Collins
Line, sustained considerable damage, and there were periods
when it seemed scarcely probable that we should ever reach
an earthly port. Among the passengers was a stout, burly
gentleman, whom nobody appeared to know, but with whom
we all became ac(praiuted, as people do at sea. A common
danger has a strange dissolving power. The ice of conven-
tionality melts away, and human hearts are drawn together
by an invisible force. The oneness of mankind is never so
strikingly shown as at such a time, when the skies are dark
and men are alone upon the broad ocean, with only a plank
between themselves and eternity. Our " mutual friend "
suffered not a little daring the passage with seasickness.
But he bore up under this peculiar trial with a sweetness of
temper that Job himself might have envied. So far from
entering any complaint against Providence, or cursing the day
he was born, as some of us similarly afflicted were tempted to
do, our companion, on the other hand, seemed rather to en-
joy the curious discomfort to which he was subjected.

He was as gay as a lark, overflowing with wit and humor,
while many of us were in the dumps. There was no end to
the pleasant tales with which he beguiled us. Anecdotes,
such as are wont to keep the table in a roar, flowed from his
lips as from an inexhaustible spring. He was never tired of
talking nor we of listening. And thus was the tedium of the
way relieved.

Charmed with our entertainer, we had no idea who he

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 205

was, nor did we take any pains to find out. He was so
natural, so simple, and so unaffected, that it did not occur
to us he might perhaps turn out to be an angel or a great
man in disguise. He was a most agreeable companion, and
that was quite enough for us.

Toward the close of the voyage it began to be whispered
about that our delightful comrade was a clergyman, and
that his name was Chapin. This report at first not only
caused surprise, but struck us as altogether absurd. There
was nothing about the man suggestive of the cloth, or calcu-
lated to give one an impression that he either was or thought
he was holier than other men. That he was a preacher of
any sort was a conception that had not entered our minds.
It was the last thing we should have imagined. The clergy,
as a rule, even when they try to be familiar, are in a sense
isolated and remote. There is a subtle something which lies
between them and us, and which marks them out as beings
of another class. In the case of Dr. Chapin, as he appeared
among his shipmates at this time, this mysterious and inde-
finable element was entirely wanting. He was not at all
like a saint, but like a man among men, and it was on this
account that he won all hearts.

If our miraculous story-teller Avas indeed a preacher, we
must hear him preach. Upon that point we were determined.
Somebody said that he had seen the name of a Mr. Chapin in
the "London Times," mentioned as" having made a most
eloquent address before the Peace Convention which had
recently met at Frankfort-on-the-Main. This was sufficient
to whet our curiosity to the highest pitch. Could this be the
man 1 He looked as little like an orator as a preacher. But
in this world it is not safe to judge men by their looks. A
rude garment of flesh may hide from us the beauty of the
soul, until the lightning of the spirit breaks through its en-
vironment. Sunday came, and we made up our minds that

206 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

our new discovery must be tested ; our man must speak. But
there were difficulties in the way, and for some reason he
seemed indisposed to gratify us. He begged hard to be let
off; said his sermons were out of reach, that he did not like
to speak without preparation, etc. But we were inexorable.
Speak he must ! Seeing there was no escape, he finally said
that at the dinner-table he would make a few remarks. The
cabin was as still as death when he arose. We all felt that
it was a solemn occasion. We had passed safely through a
terrible storm, and were now nearing port. Our voyage Avas
nearly ended, and soon we were to be scattered, each to his
own, to meet on earth no more. Those who have been to
sea know what this feeling is. It is strong and deep, like the
sea itself. Is^o language of mine can give even the faintest
idea of the effect upon us of the words to which we that day
listened. The writer has heard none like them since. "Words,
forsooth ! They were living, burning thoughts ! The spell
they cast upon us was like that of some grand symphony,
whose divine music rings in one's ears forever. None who
were then present can have forgotten the wonderful scene.
Many of us for the first time then realized what a mighty
thing true eloquence is ! Every one present was moved as
he had never been moved before.

I cannot describe it. It is indescribable. A whirlwind
from some upper sphere seemed to sweep over us, and our
souls bent beneath its power. Strains, sweeter than those of
an aeolian harp, fell upon our ears and sank into the depths of
our hearts. It is only once in a lifetime that one can expect
to hear such eloquence as that. It is only once in a lifetime
that a great orator strikes his highest note. Even Dr. Chapin
never struck that note again. The Voyage of Life, — that was
his glorious and pathetic theme ! At such a moment, how
impressive, how appropriate ! There were few dry eyes when
the orator, in closing, alluded to the dangers which were past,

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 207

and the bitter parting that was to come, and spoke of the
time when we should all meet where there would be no more
parting and " no more sea ! "

If, in the trial of eloquence on shipboard, Mr.
Beecher, as he frankly confesses, though laying the
blame in some measure on the state of his health,
fell behind ]\Ir. Chapin, there transpired, in after years,
a still more conspicuous matching of the two men in
speech, in which the former owned up, in the most apt
way, that he was beaten. In this instance, also, he was
set at a disadvantage, since, by mistake, the two men had
been invited to speak to the same " toast," and Chapin
.was called on first. It was on the occasion of the Na-
tional Publishers and Booksellers' Dinner in the Crystal
Palace, Xew York. The crowd was large and full of
intelligence and fame, and the speakers were JMilburn,
the " blind preacher," Chapin, and Beecher. Mr. Wesley
Harper led Mr. Milburn to the platform, where he made
one of his gentle and tasteful speeches, an address as
fitting in thought as finished in phrase. He was fol-
lowed by Mr. Chapin, whose topic was " The Power of
the Press." The theme was great, and could not have
been more congenial to the speaker. A careful prepara-
tion for the effort, and a sympathetic crowd, served to
move in him all his powers of eloquence. It was in the
time of the Crimean War. Sevastopol had fallen, the
Eedan had been taken, the combined aripies had con-
quered ; and from this history of the hour he drew an
inspiration and a figure of speech which told on his
hearers like an electric shock.

" I love to hear," said he, " the rumbling of the steam-power
press better than the rattle and roar of artillery. It is silently

208 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

attacking and vanquishing the Malakoffs of vice and the Re-
dans of evil, and its approaches cannot be resisted. I like
the click of the type in the composing-stick of the compos-
itor better than the click of the musket in the hand of the
soldier. It bears a leaden messenger of deadlier power, of
sublimer force, and a surer aim, which will hit its mark,
though it is a thousand years ahead.''

With many strokes of thought and rhetoric equally
pertinent and overpowering he moved through his half-
hour of eloquence ; and excited men in the rear of the
room mounted the chairs and tables in their enthusiasm,
and rent the air with their wild and oft-repeated huzzas.

When Mr. Beecher was called to make his speech, he
came forward shaking his head and smiling a smile
which seemed to say in clearest terms : " I am outdone ;
I give it up." As reported in the " New York Evening
Post," his words were as follows : —

I know what my fate is on this occasion. After the pro-
foundly eloquent remarks of the reverend brother who has
just preceded me, wdiat could I say that you would care to
listen to 1 He has finished, but his resounding voice still fills
this vast building ; and in trying to say anything after him I
am reminded of an experiment, which I once made when a
boy, to ride behind two other boys astride a lean, bare-backed
horse. I see you anticipate the result. You are right. I
slid off over the crupper ! I wouldn't like to try that feat
again, with so many looking on as there Avould be here.

Rejoicing in the victory of his friend, with a generous
good-nature, he took his seat ; and he afterward said of
Chapin's speech : " It was magnificent, like corusca-
tions of fireworks." But when Mr. Beecher came to
speak at the funeral of his friendly and genial rival,

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 209

whose rapt lips were silent now forever, he paid him a
yet wider compliment : —

I have now been for more than forty years a speaker and
conversant with all speakers, and I have never met or heard
a man who, in his height and glow of eloquence, surpassed
or equalled him in many qualities. It was a trance to sit
under him in his ripest and most inspired hours ; it was a
vision of beauty ; the world seemed almost dark and cold for
an hour afterward.

Without peers in the American pulpit, and almost
every Sunday put in comparison and contrast by many
people, Chapin and Beecher knew no waning of friend-
ship, and were mutually glad in each other's victories.

The speaker was to be pitied whose lot it was to be
called to the platform after Dr. Chapin had spoken, for
in him the eloquence of the occasion was sure to cul-
minate, and any further words would be but as the sigh-
ing of the breeze after the roar of the gale. As Rev.
Dr. I. ]\I. Atwood has truly said : "After all the ora-
torical princes had competed for the crown, and Chapin
was summoned, there never was any dispute as to who
was king. In uplifting, thrilling, overpowering, unre-
portable eloquence, he left all contemporaries far behind
him." Many a one, blessed with a rarely gifted tongue,
has refused to come after him. On one occasion the
eloquent Starr Kmg, with a voice as golden and musical
as that ascribed to a Chrysostom, and a thought and
fancy which ever charmed the people, refused to speak
except he could precede Chapin. It was at one of the
series of May festivals held by the Universalists in
Faneuil Hall. The president of the day was Professor
B. F. Tweed, who had assured King that his request to

14

210 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

come first should be granted. An intimate friend of
both the favorite orators, the Professor kn'ew full well
that this was the true order of succession. But by
some blunder of the toast-master Chapin's " senti-
ment " was read first, and, amid a tumult of applause,
he rose and spoke for twenty minutes or more, hurling
wit and wisdom and emotion into a wild torrent of elo-
quence. Meanwhile, King had retreated to a corner of
the hall, and sealed with a vow his purpose not to
speak. After Achilles what hope for Patroclus ?

The president summoned the Eev. Thomas Whitte-
more, a hero and a genuine wit, to lead the forlorn
hope, thinking thus to atone the mishap of the pro-
gramme in reference to King, and to give him time to
rally his fallen courage. But, when at length he called
upon the graceful and fascinating speaker, he got but a
shake of the head in response. After a little delay, for
the cheering to pass, he said : " The audience will toler-
ate a king, but not a kingdom {King dumb). We all
know, he is aching (a King) to speak. He seems just
now to be a 'thinking {thin King)." This run of puns
had the desired effect, and not in vain after the tempest
did he wave his magic wand over the people.

On the lecture platforms Chapin made some of his
great triumphs, and a good-sized book would not contain
the adjectives put in the superlative degree by the news-
papers, m twenty years, as descriptive of his eloquence.
The current epithets were : " unequalled," "matchless,"
" simply magnificent," " never such thrilling outbursts
of oratory heard before." Eeporters were often over-
powered, and dropped their pencils in the midst of his
stormy passages, and awoke at the close of his lecture,

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 211

as from an opium dream, to find they liad nothing to
bear away for the space set apart for their reports. They
often begged of him the loan of his manuscript to make
up afterwards what they were unable to accomplish as
he proceeded, and would leave it at his hotel during the
night, or meet him at the train in the morning and give
him his manuscript and their hearty thanks at the same
time, and steal the privilege of an interview. He was
often set in comparison with the contemporary favorites
of the lyceum audiences, and given the first rank. An
instance of this measuring in his favor is happily told
by Harper's " Easy Chair " : —

During the days of his lyceum lecturing no man was more
popular upon the platform ; indeed, probably no one was so
universally popular as he. Jones, who used to lecture in the
same courses, said that he was proceeding one evening to ful-
fil an appointment, and as he sat, dismal and homesick, in the
cold car, he heard two men upon the seat before him talking,
as they approached the city, of the lectures and the lecturers.

" Have you ever heard Chapin 1 "

"No."

" Well, there 's nothing like it ; he 's the king of them
aU."

" Who lectures to-night ? "

" Jones."

"Oh, Jones. Ever heard Jones ? "

" Yes."

" How is he ? "

"Good speaker, but tedious — tedious."

Jones said that his head sank upon his bosom ; but that
when he afterward told the story to Chapin, the generous
king of them all shook and shouted Avith glee, and cried :
" Pshaw ! he knew ye, Hal, he knew ye, and meant to have
his joke."

212 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

It is one of the tests of eloquence, that it is equal to
the conquest of prejudice and the capture of the mind
and heart in spite of their stuhborn resistance. When
the tongue proves stronger than the defiant will, then it
has won the credit of oratory. Philip of Macedon, on
hearing the report of one of Demosthenes' Philippics,
or orations against himself, paid the orator the compli-
ment of saying : " Had I been there, he would have
persuaded me to take up arms against myself." Of
Burke's eloquent impeachment of Warren Hastings, the
latter said : " As I listened to the orator I felt for
more than half an hour as if I were the most culpable
being on earth." Thus in the " Arabian Nights " the tri-
umphant story-teller, Scheherezade, compelled the cruel
Sultan to spare her life in spite of his fixed purpose to
take it. And with a similar sway, on one occasion. Dr.
Chapin straightened out a bigot, who had curled himself
up in sectarian defiance. He was one of the old-time dea-
cons who held Universalist ministers in holy contempt,
but who, out of respect to his office in the temperance
order, had come on the platform with others where the
eloquent Chapin was to speak. With a frowning glance
at the orator whom he had never seen before, he bent his
head near to his knees and fixed his eyes rigidly on the
floor. In a few moments after the discourse got under
way, and the telling climaxes began to recur, it was ob-
served that the deacon's head began to lift a little.
Soon his face became visible to the audience. By de-
grees he assumed an upright posture in his chair, with
his face actually aglow with interest, and his mouth
open in wonder. No one had ever seen the deacon look
so upright and tall before ; and it was solely the rare

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 213

power of Dr. Chapin's eloquence that overcame his
sectarian curvature.

It was a significant witness of Dr. Chapin's triumph-
ant eloquence, that those who were wont to hear him
generally regarded his last effort as his greatest. Their
latest tumult of emotion made it quite impossible for
them to exercise a rational remembrance. " I had a
dear old friend," says Eev. Dr. T. J. Sawyer, " to whom
I had preached fifteen years, — and who ought by that
time, I thought, to know something about poor preach-
ing,— who subsequently became a constant hearer of Dr.
Chapin, and used to come every Monday to the office of
the ' Christian Ambassador,' which I was then editing,
to tell me about the preceding Sunday's sermons ; and
his report, besides some account of the subject and
mode of treatment, which he was quite competent to
give, was always summed up by the remark, that ' yes-
terday Dr. Chapin exceeded himself ! ' " And this was
indeed the impression which the great mass of his hear-
ers carried away with them from almost every service.
The Rev. Thomas "Whittemore rarely heard him speak
that he did not report in the " Trumpet," of which he
was editor, that " the orator went beyond himself," " he
never spoke with such power before," " he surpassed
his own high standard of eloquence," or a similar state-
ment of transcendency. It was the illusion of a present
great emotion in contrast with one of equal greatness, it
may be, from which memory, " the fading sense," had
permitted something of vividness to escape.

In a series of " Pulpit Portraits," John Ross Dix
drew one of Dr. Chapin as he stood pouring his tide of
eloquence over an evening audience which filled the

214 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

pews and aisles and pressed up the pulpit stairs of the
Broadway Church. Studying the sermon and watching
its effect he says : " Some of the most nervously sensi-
tive of his audience will not sleep very soundly to-night,
nor get to sleep very early ; it is an opium dream, an
enchantment, a fairyland through which he has led
them." Eef erring to the effect of Chapin's sermons on
him, Mr. E. B. Fellows, an old parishioner, thus ex-
presses himself : "I knew I had heard what I ought to
have heard, and what I wanted to hear ; and yet so
carried away was I, I could not recall what had been
said. I was lost in feeling. I seemed in a rapture. It
was heaven." Even so cool a head as that of Eichard
Frothingham, the historian, was intoxicated by the
magical stimulus of Chapin's preaching, and he con-
fessed to walking home from church repeatedly as one
who seemed not to be in the flesh and walking on the
ground. He had been lifted into a holy ecstasy. After
the manner of one of whom Paul speaks, " he was
caught up into Paradise," but he could not tell what he
had heard, nor could he set forth his emotions. He
had been a lotus-eater while sitting in his pew, had
breathed ravishing odors from celestial fields, and went
away in a rapt and sweet bewilderment. The eminent
United States Senator, Henry Wilson, himself a Con-
gregationalist, was accustomed to hear Dr. Chapin
whenever he spent a Sunday in New York ; and on one
occasion, having been so moved in his heart as to ex-
press himself by audible sobs and the tears of a holy
gladness, he remarked to a regular attendant at the
church, " You know not what a sacred privilege you
have who can hear this great preacher every Sunday ! "

THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 215

" He rules my emotions with the power of a monarch,"
wrote some one in the " New York Metropolitan ; " and
the Hon. William H. Seward said, " No preacher ever
so impressed me." " In a state of religious indifference,
but for old acquaintance' sake," says Mr. 0. Hutchinson,
" I went to hear Chapm in Murray Street, and he shook
my lethargy all out of me." In him the Eev. L. C.
Browne found his dream of the orator and minister
fulfilled: —

In early time I had a loved ideal
Of Leaven-tuned eloquence from human tongue,

And sought in vain to find the vision real

In the long-perished years when life was young.

At length I saw and recognized the being

Born of young fancy while the heart was warm,

And I was satisfied and charmed in seeing
My early dream fulfilled in living form.

No man could blend so much of force and beauty,
Such radiant imagery with tones so grand.

Such strong persuasion to the way of duty,
Such skill to move, to soften, and command.

XIII.

OEATOEICAL EESOITRCES.

It is a legend of Plato that, when an infant, his
father, Aristo, took him and his mother and went to
Hymettus to sacrifice to the Muses, and while they were
engaged in the divine rites the bees of that flower-land
came and distilled honey on the lips of the child.
Hence the sweetness of his words and the charms of
his voice. The pleasing story is a hint of the fact that
all rare gifts are derived from nature, that the great artist
is in league with Apollo, the great poet is born and not
made, and the great orator comes with a conferred outfit.

In this view of the case there is a large degree of
truth; and hence in any just analysis of the eloquence
of Dr. Chapin there must be a prompt recognition of
his inherited good fortune. To the end of effective
speech his body was a facile and powerful agent. It
engaged the eye at a glance by its largeness and evident
animation, its every step being firm and energetic, and
its sitting posture full of positiveness and life, as if
mighty inner forces were only held in temporary check
by the power of will ; and thus he aroused expectancy,
which is ever a prime advantage with oratory, by sim-
ply coming before an assembly and taking his seat.
For when the eye beheld him, the ear would hear him.

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 217

What the corporeally less favored speaker has to do
by a studied exordium he accomplished by his mere
presence, and could omit that difficult part of the art of
oratory, which has to do with the fostering of a prone-
ness to listen. And in his case this proneness was of
the best type, because his apparent personality, divested
of all suggestion of the trivial, struck the deeper life of
the observer and set the soul on the alert. He came
before the eye as the vivid embodiment of higher forces,
and with the air of one bent on the most serious busi-
ness. His was no classic and ideal form which art
would seek to copy ; in movement he was rather awk-
ward than graceful; on his face were no soft and fluent
lines or fresh tints ; and his raiment was never a happy
fit. Not at all to graces of this kuid was his personal
sway due, for then had it been less j)owerful ; but
rather to the gi^aphic manifestation of character — the
thoughts that breathe, the emotions that thrill, and
energies that move with the might of nature's forces ;
and hence the best that was in man rose to greet him
as he moved with a sort of roll, like a ship toiling in a
heavy sea, to his pulpit or platform, and eagerly the
ear waited to listen.

But if his bodily presence was thus a power in itself,
— a speech in silence, a sufficient exordium, — it indeed
grew to a startlmg and awe-inspiring figure under the
magnetism of his soul, as he moved through the scen-
ery of his discourse. In the life of Dr. Chapin there
is nothing more remarkable than the fact that, while he
was physically disinclined to exercise, — seeking a seat
as his first choice, hazardmg health rather than compel
himself to take a walk, ordering a carriage to convey

218 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

him a couple of hundred rods sooner than go on foot, —
still was his body a swift and facile and willing servant
of his soul, and it was equal to the largest demand laid
upon it by his rapt emotions, as the great organ in the
Boston Music Hall is equal to the rendering of the vast
and stormy harmonies of Bach. At the first wave of
the wand of sentiment, he threw off his bodily inertia,
and rose, like a giant from sleep, to an overwhelming
energy. As a tree sways and vibrates in a gale, so
would his massive form toil and strive as some strong
gust of feeling swept down on it; and his audience
would fairly lose its breath for a time amid the wild
rush of emotion he would thus summon to their hearts.
In the lofty passages of oratory it is doubtful if any
speaker ever addressed the eye more overpoweringly ;
for in the show of passion a Demosthenes could not
have surpassed him, — nor a Peter the Hermit in vehe-
mence, nor a Luther in hot energy, nor a Eowland Hill
in the rush and force of climaxes, nor a Patrick Henry
in the majesty of declamation. When his inner gifts
were in full play he was a most thrilling embodiment
of eloquence ; and so unstudied and real were his out-
bursts that the eye scarcely needed the aid of the ear to
interpret them, and to bear to the soul their full force.

But his voice was another of his rare physical advan-
tages as an orator. Only once in a very long time does
nature endow a public speaker with such a voice. Its
great volume was fully equalled by its fine qualities.
It w\as at once strong, flexible, and rich in its tones.
" Oh, hear that voice ! " has been the exclamation of mul-
titudes who have chanced to catch its notes on the side-
walk or in the car.

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 219

" I recall distinctly the first time I ever saw Dr. Chapin,"
writes Miss Sarah G. Daley. " It must have been, I think, in
the earlier years of his being at Pigeon Cove, for I Avas quite
a little girl. I was at the waterside with my grandfather,
who was busy about his boat, when two gentlemen drove vip,
and asked my grandfather if he could set them across 'Squam
River to Coffin's Beach, He could and did. I remember
distinctly with what pleasure I listened to every word uttered
by the voice that sounded to my childish ears like some rare
instrument. I had never heard such a voice, I thought. It
"was some days later that I learned that the gentleman with
the wonderful voice was E. H. Chapin."

And it was a rare instrument she heard, — a finely
strung vocal organ, whose power and mellowness struck
the ear as alike remarkable. It was so grand and vari-
ant and musical, that to have heard only its tones, apart
from the aid of words, would have enchanted the ear.

It was not the dry, thin, hard voice of the intellect,
heard so often from the professor's chair, and not infre-
quently from the pulpit, but a voice rounded and
enriched by emotion.

"He never had to j^ut the pebbles of Demosthenes into his
mouth," said Dr. Bellows, "to conquer any natural obstacles
to clear utterance. Theodore Parker said of Samuel J. May
that ^Nature made his voice to say the Beatitudes with. God
made our friend Cliapin's voice to ring through vast croAvds
of humanity, — to startle the indifferent, to fasten the attention
of the careless, and to rivet the ears of listening thousands.
Clear as a clarion, and loud as a park of artillerj% it has been
the apt vehicle for thoughts that breathe and Avords that burn.
For his tuneful throat has been only the passage for a current
of impassioned feeling and vigorous thinking ; and eloquence
in him has been the volcano's flame, fed from a fiery heart of

220 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

inexhaustible earnestness, and ever-active brooding on life's
great problems. Nature made him for an orator, and Divine
Grace adopted him as one of her most potent mouthpieces."

There was no idea so grand, no sentiment so lofty or
beautiful or ardent, that his voice did not seem to glo-
rify as it gave it utterance. The hearer was often
startled at the fresh sense he would read into, or out of,
the most familiar words. The old became new as he
enunciated it, and the weak strong, and the strong sov-
ereign. Saadi tells us of "a man with a feeble and
harsh voice who was reading the Koran, when a holy
man passing by asked him what was his monthly sti-
pend. He answered, ' Nothing at all.' The man in-
quired, ' Why, then, do you take so much trouble?' He
replied, ' I read for the sake of God.' The other rejoined,
' For the sake of God do not read ; for, if you read the
Koran in this manner, you will destroy the splendor of
Islamism.' " But no splendor of Christianity ever suf-
fered through being rendered by the soul-touched voice
of Dr. Chapin.

But a supple and powerful body and a facile and
ample voice do not make an orator, but are only the
needful agents or instruments of the oratorical genius,
which is a higher gift. What the superb organ is to
the gifted musician and his music, such are the bodily
powers to the eloquent soul. They are not the basis of
oratory, but only its aids. Back of action and voice
lies the secret of speech that charms and overpowers.
In all ages the wise ones have heaped satire on the
rant and noise, born of the abundant flesh, which affect
to be eloquence. The Scotch proverb says : " The great-
est bummer is never the best bee;" and Shakespeare w\as

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 221

deeply incensed at the speaker who substituted sound
for sense : " Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a ro-
bustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters,
to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who,
for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexpli-
cable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fel-
low whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-Herods
Herod. Pray you, avoid it." In a like spirit of impa-
tience does the great London preacher, Spurgeon, rebuke
this corporeal excess in oratory : " It is an infliction,
not to be endured twice, to hear a brother, who mistakes
perspiration for inspiration, tear along like a wild horse
with a hornet in its ear, till he has no more wind and
must needs pause to pump his lungs full again."

In his earlier life Chapin may have been sometimes
betrayed by the exuberance of his physical powers into
this fault so exposed to satire. The subtle mind of
Starr King, his youthful parishioner, detected at a
glance, as his eloquent young pastor entered the pulpit,
the order of oratory which was about to be displayed.
If Chapin came with poor outfit for the service he dashed
into the pulpit with a sort of frenzy (as King noticed),
rushed from seat to desk and desk to seat, worked his
body into a fever and sweat, gave his arms to a wildness
of gesture, and pressed his voice to an uproar. Chapin
confessed to having lost the favor of the Boston Mer-
cantile Library Association by the boisterousness of his
first lecture before it. His ordinary preaching, in that
heyday of his life, when his inner resources scarcely
balanced his outer energies, was, no doubt, as largely
mixed with physical forces as the laws of a sound criti-
cism would allow. It was, however, a coveted and not

222 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

injurious magnetism to tlie people, who flocked to have
the fiery currents sweep through them, and a sure sign
of a riper greatness of no ordinary type, since it is the
law of eloquence, with the advancing years, to draw
less of its sway from the body and more from the
soul.

Passing to a study of the higher sources of Chapin's
oratory, we shall find the chief merit must be accorded
to his rare spiritual ardor or enthusiasm, which seems
to be the prime quality of all effective genius, the secret
of greatness in art, music, and poetry, as in speech.
Without its aid great talents will lie dormant, but by
it they will be set at their best and made mighty in
power. Every one knows what advantage lies in being
kindled ; for he who could say nothing before, can say
anything now, and with rare logic, imagination, and
force ; sterility becomes suddenly fertile, as if the sandy
desert were to bloom and bear fruit in abundance ; cow-
ardice gives place to courage, or we have exchanged our
fawn for a lion. Is man the same being to-day he was
yesterday, — 71010 so aerial and lithe, full of rapt visions,
eager for better communions, having down his rare
books for rare occasions, or fleeing to gaze again and
worthily at some fine landscape or work of art, but then
only a mole without eyes in some dark corner, or a
foolish bat flying blind in the open day ? The same and
not the same ; the same 2^lus a heat that has set free the
frozen and pent-up currents, or a quickened sensibility
that gives him to himself, installs him in full command
of his powers, and befriends him at whatever task he
attempts, as a crisp air gives quickness and vigor to our
whole being. In this gift of emotion, thus effective.

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 223

Chapin took rank with the most ardent souls known in
the history of man.

It is not enough to say that he warmed toward his
theme ; he indeed flamed as he mused on it and spoke of
it. In the years of his prime he only needed to engage
his thoughts and rise to his feet to have the inner fire.s
set to burning like a furnace. " His capacity of glow,"
said Dr. Bellows, " never failed in any public address
to make that which only smokes under the heat of
other orators to flame from his lips." Or, to turn from
fire to water for a type of his enthusiasm, we find it set
forth by Mr. Beecher : " His eloquence was not a canal
but a rushing river."

But Mr. Chapin did not violate the true law of
oratory by a mondtony of enthusiasm and energy. He
was the master of climaxes, and was studied by a For-
rest, a Davenport, a Lawrence Barrett, that they might
catch his art of hurling his whole being tumultuously,
and seemingly at his pleasure, into a single period or a
paragrapli, making it startling like the flash of light-
nmg and the crash of thunder, and then instantly as-
suming a calmer mood. The swiftness and sweep of
his alternations were surprises even to the masters of
passion. Said Forrest, " Chapin beats the tragic stage
for explosive effects." Indeed so great and perfect
was his command of his muscles and vocal powers and
passions that, if he saw fit, he could make a thrilling
climax of a platitude, electrify and awe his hearers with
a commonplace, make a molehill play the part of a
mountain with its crags and caverns and clouds ; and
the reader of one of his printed sermons would hardly
be al)le to tell where, in the preaching of it, if it were

224 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

preached in liis raid-years, he swept his audience into
breathless moods of wonder and rapture. In fact, he
did it very much at his pleasure ; or rather, he yielded
his swift and strong feelings and mighty powers of ex-
pression to the touch of a kindling phrase, of which the
ordinary reader would take no note. There are not
wanting many telling climaxes on his printed pages, for
to such the ardent writer is ever borne, but he felt and
made more than others would detect.

In this rare heat and glow, diffused in all his being as
he spoke, now a serene fire and now a wild tiame, and
ever increasing as lie moved through his discourse, we
have the prime secret of his eloquence. He was earnest,
ardent, enthusiastic, and therefore he was eloquent.
The art of his oratory was primarily in the heart of it.
Because he had more sentiment and passion than others
was he more mighty in speech.

The remaining sources of his eloquence are to be
found in those intellectual and moral conditions which
are tributary to enthusiasm, making it a greater cer-
tainty, raising it to a higher level, giving it more com-
manding forms, and rendering it more nobly effective.
Whatever else there may be, without heat there is no
eloquence; and Dr. Chapin looked well to the supply
of fuel with which to kindle and inflame the heart. To
this end he sought great themes for his sermons, since
these would greatly stir his soul and arouse his senti-
ments. Not only had he the gift of looking his subjects
into their broadest proportions, but he sought broad
subjects, before which he would naturally kindle, as
before a "reat work of art or a towering mountain. The
deeps of the inner life are not likely to be broken up

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 225

and agitated at the cor.templation of a trifle, an empty
whim, a theme so trivial and remote from the life of
man as a moral and religious being that its discussion
were a matter of indifference. The s6ul is rational, and
rises before its topic in proportion to its greatness and
value. A penny print cannot affect it like a great fresco,
nor a petty conceit like a solemn question of faith and
ethics. Hence Dr. Chapin chose such ^'ital and in-
spiring subjects as would arouse him as he mused on
them. A list of his themes, filling the space of a chap-
ter, would be excellent reading for clergyman and lay-
man, as showing the shrines at which his soul was set
aglow in its contemplations, and before which every
one would be likely to offer an earnest worship. Turn-
ing from the thin and useless topics too often discussed
in the pulpit, the mere bric-a-brac of theology, the meta-
physical puzzles of the creeds or the temporary caprices
of the hour, about which the soul has no concern, how
great and stirring do his subjects appear : " The Divine
Providence," "The Principle of the Divme Kingdom,"
" Faith and its Aspirations," " Life in Christ," " Ideals of
Life," " The Inward Springs," " Longing for Ptighteous-
ness," " Overcoming the World," " The Spiritual Pesur-
rection," " The Heavenly State." Solemn appeals are
these to the heart in every age and place, and in the
study of them it will find its noblest sentiments stirred,
as well as its richest joys enhanced.

Wliile Dr. Chapin avoided trivial topics, and those
which address the intellect chiefly, - — the dogmas around
which debate raises its din and dust, while the soul
turns away its gaze and waits to hear a better word, — he
also left untouched, because they are uninspiring, all

15

226 LTFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

subjects on which his mind was not made up and his
heart full of confidence. He avoided the chill of doubt
in making his messages for the people. He felt the
incompatibility of slcepticism and enthusiasm, of a dis-
tracted mental state and an earnest frame of spirit, of
a suspended faith and an effective eloquence, and se-
lected his' subjects from the circle of his convictions.
He was not open to the criticism of the celebrated Row-
land Hill, that " some ministers choose dubious themes,
which they treat hesitatingly, as a donkey mumbles this-
tles." He dealt in great affirmations, and hurled his
whole being unimpeded along the channel of his
thought. He would be on the best of terms with
his subject, — a full believer in it, an ardent lover of
it, — and then glow before it in his study, as he unfolded
it, and in his pulpit, as he bore it to the waiting people,
that it might affect them as it affected him.

Another fire at which he warmed and Idndled his
soul, and enhanced his eloquence, is the mystic but
mighty flame of beauty. In the words of Plato:
"Beauty is a kind of tyranny to which man gives
himself in a ready captivity." In the classic picture
Beauty rides on a Lion, to signify its majesty and sway;
or, in Mr. Emerson's phrase, " Beauty is the form under
which the intellect prefers to study the world." It is
one of the secrets of the universe which is most inspir-
ing of love, enthusiasm, activity, and power. He who
is its creator, and adorns his work as he executes it, will
not tire at his task, but will realize a growing ardor and
power in its performance. Thus the orator is touched
by the music of his own voice, kindled by the felicity
of liis rhetoric, aroused by his happy tropes and similes,

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 227

braced by his lucky conden,sations, and cheered by the
skill of his arguments ; and Dr. Chapin's eloquence M'as
under a heavy debt to these helps to emotion. He
asked Beauty to come and sit by him as he made his
sermon or meditated his speech, that she might breathe
her inspiring breath on his soul.

liarely has a preacher equalled him in the art of orna-
mentation, and thousands upon thousands of entranced
listeners have exclaimed : " How beautiful ! how grand ! "
as his glowing imagery passed before them, not aware
that that imagery had reacted on the soul of the speaker
and the deeper sentiments of their own being, making a
divine enthusiasm the ally of the aesthetic delight.
" The orator must be, to a certain extent, a poet," says
Mr. Emerson. " We are such imaginative creatures,
that nothimr so works on the human mind, barbarous
or civil, as a trope. Condense some daily experience
into a glowing symbol, and an audience is electrified."
But speaker and hearer are alike susceptible to the magic
of beauty, and awaken at the touch of the imagination,
as Memnon's statue awoke at the streaming in of the
morning sunlight. A commonplace period is a poppy,
and invites sleep in the one who makes it and in the
one who listens to it. A platitude is a sponge dipped
in morphine. A common thought in a common
dress is uninteresting and tiresome to everybody,
and a continuous procession of such will set all
parties to yawning. But periods that are fresh and
strong and decorated, and paragraphs in which the im-
agination plays its part, will set thought and sentiment
at a vast advantage ; and to this source we must trace
one of the secrets of Dr. Chapin's eloquence. His man-

228 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

uscript was illuminated, and he was the first to glow
before the magical radiance. He created around him a
pictorial realm, and was inspired by the scenery. He
found a happy incitement in a terse phrase, and his soul
rushed into a graphic figure of speech. He could com-
pel force mto a platitude, but a strong and poetic state-
ment aroused all the powers within him.

Nor must we overlook his humane spirit in our at-
tempt to account for his enthusiasm in the pulpit and
on the platform. A loving heart makes eloquent lips.
For those we love we can speak with a fervor to which
indifference, or a cold art, can make no approach. It is
a standard demand in the books on oratory, from Quin-
tilian to the latest writer, that the speaker must be in
full sympathy with his hearers, that he may success-
fully engage himself and them. " Love is the sap of
the gospel, the secret of lively and effectual preaching,
the magic power of eloquence," said the great French
preacher, Abbe Mullois. " The true evangehcal fervor
comes with affectionate interest iu souls," says Dr.
Storrs ; and Phillips Brooks, in his Yale Lectures, de-
clares that " no man preaches well who has not a strong
and deep appreciation of humanity." But Chapin had
a great and tender heart toward every class of his
hearers, — a keen sympathy with the poor and the sor-
rowing, a swift pity for the sinful, a sincere regard for
those struggling to conquer temptation, a ready and
hearty interest in those striving to realize a true ideal
of life, a ready compassion for the honest skeptic, es-
teem for the pure and good, and an abounding gladness
in all joy ; and in this humanity of his heart his themes
rose before him as beneficent opportunities, and his

ORATORICAL EESOUECES. 229

words became touching and powerful as he wrote and
S}3oke for the good of souls.

Another source of his eloquence was his deep and
fervent piety. In all ages the most inspired lips have
been touched by the Divinity. From Isaiah to Dr.
Channing, faith in God, and a keeping of the soul in
unity with the Holy Spirit, have quickened the genius
of the great preachers and made their words welcome
and efiective. In the light of immortality the preach-
er's office is magnified ; under a divine government, sin
and holiness assume gravest aspects ; and he who goes
to his pulpit with the strongest conviction and sense of
these facts vnll go most in the spirit of his service. He
will not stand there as an idler, nor a time-server, nor
a seeker of his own glory, but as one who has a most
serious business on his hands, to which he would com-
mit every gift of his being. In Dr. Chapin's implicit
and ardent faith in God we must see one source of his
fervid eloquence. On this pomt the Eev. C. R. Moor
truly remarks : —

The reHgious resource of his oratory must ever rank as the
most special and the highest ; this entered largely into and
determined very much the quality of whatever was noblest
and best in all he did and said. They who heard him only
on the lecture platform, or when he was considering subjects
that did not legitimately require and to which he could not
thus bring the full force of his religious powers, never fairly
heard him' at all. More than all things else, he was a relig-
ious genius ; in every best sense he was pre-eminently a
Christian preacher, whose eloquence had large root in the re-
ligiousness of his natural constitution and large flowers and
fruitage in the atmosphere of the Kingdom of Heaven. His

230 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIK.

Christian zeal, enthusiasm, and passion, tiiat might have swept
him into fanaticism but for their balancing and hence conser-
vative forces, were thus turned into currents of deepest,
truest life, and breathed through congregations as mighty
■winds of the spirit. His volumes of sermons, — Crown of
Thorns, Hours of Commuiuon, Lord's Prayer, and The Beati-
tudes, — preached for the most part during the earlier years
of his ministry, are illustrations of his reverence for and faith
in the simplest and highest truths of religion, as themes by
which sacred eloquence, the highest of all eloquence, could
most effectually educate and bless mankind. It was a direct
consideration of the pure Gospel — some scene in the life of
Christ or his apostles, some special principle or influence of
Christianity — that always most inspired the mind and heart
and tongue of this master of oratory, and by which he most
thrilled and helped his hearers. He was so much of a relig-
ious genius, and he had so large Christian culture, that he saw
symbols, suggestions, and lessons of moral and spiritual life
everywhere. They filled nature and human history and ex-
perience — the M'hole world — so full to his vision, that it
seemed very easy for him to shower these upon the souls of
his fellow-men in richest abundance. But the Cross of Jesus
was the sign of it all ; around that centred his greatest and
holiest thoughts and feelings, there glowed his most lofty,
tender and impressive speech.

Amoncc liis oratorical resources must also be noted
the mood of engagedness and emotion into which he
was wont to bring himself on the eve of speaking, by
secluded musing and prayer. He sacrificed all else to
the generation of enthusiasm in his own heart. He
made sure of his emotion before coming to the public
to address it, not willing to risk even his quick and
strong sensibilities to the fortune of the hour. He was

ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 231

self-exacting as an anchorite, who spends an arduous
preliminary season in making ready for his matin or
vesper service. It might be said of him as it was of
Whitefield : " He was the prince of preachers without
the veil, because he was a Jacob within the veil. His
face shone when he came down from the Mount, be-
cause he had been so long alone with God on the
Mount." As an athlete dare not come to the arena un-
less he has set every nerve and muscle at its best by a
fittmg excitation, so Chapin feared to undertake his
sacred task, not merely in sluggish or frivolous frame of
mind, but unless he had made sure of being in the
spirit and power of his service. To this end he devoted a
preliminary hour, or, it may be, the entire Sunday
morning. He sought solitude and its high officer. He
mused that he might set the fires burning. Amid the
currents of spiritual influence, which never sweep over
the soul except to freshen and inspire it, he sought to
place himself. With his theme he wrestled in advance.
By a sense of the needs of the people he would awaken
his heart.

"I have seen Dr. Chapin," says Rev. C. E. Moor, "when
he was soon to speak on ahiiost every variety of occasion and
theme, and generally under circumstances that rendered his
being alone, or having complete possession of himself, the
most difficult ; but I recall no such time that he did not find
a vacant room or office, or, if this seemed impossible, retire
into himself quite as surely, while his body remained with
friends, and sometimes with the multitude. "When I was
pastor in Portland, for several years in succession he gave one
of the hottest of the summer Sundays to my people, always
preaching three sermons, and probably never preaching better.

232 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

He usually made Lis home, while in the city, with his es-
teemed friends, James L. Farmer and family ; but I remem-
ber, as clearly as if it were yesterday, one day he gave to me
and mine, and nothing of that home visit do I recall more
distinctly than the fact that at least an hour before each
service he began to walk his room Avith a quick, firm step,
peculiarly his own at such times, which was continued, with
seemingly increasing rapidity and solidity, until the churcli
bells struck their last call. I hear those footsteps of twenty-
five years ago at this moment as certainly as I heard 'a voice '
that day which ' is still,' or possess now any of the life deeply
quickened then in the congregation as it came from one who
gave because he had received, and who knew the meaning of
every kind of true preparation more thoroughly than most
successful men far less gifted by nature."

XIV.

SEEMONS AND LECTURES.

Persistence of habit must be regarded as one of the
marked traits in Dr. Chapin's hfe. That which he had
become accustomed to do seemed to assume a sacred
aspect before his eyes, he put such zest into the per-
formance ; or it impressed him as a necessity, by reason
of the awkwardness which he often experienced in strik-
ing out and following some new order or method. Thus
having in early life made Pigeon Cove his summer resort,
he kept on doing so to the end of his days, spending
more or less of the heated terms at this place for thirty-
one years. Year after year he had his pocket diary of
one size and style, and, if it might be so, of one man's
make ; and, says his bookseller, " it was often a heavy
job to fill his little order for a diary." In the fashion
of his manuscripts this adherence to habit stands out in
a conspicuous degree. At least sixteen hundred of his
eighteen hundred and twenty-five written sermons are
as like in form as they could possibly be under the
changes which have taken place in the paper-making
art. The small-size " note paper " was the measure of
his page, and the area of the writing, as well as its
style, appears in the printed fac-similes. For more than
thirty years he held to this precise form, which every

234 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

minister but one in a thousand would declare to be the
worst form possible, generating a cramped penmanship,
imposing a hardship, on the eyes, and giving steady em-
ployment to one hand to turn the leaves and hold the
small, perverse manuscript from closing. All who were
wont to hear Dr. Chapin will recall the tax levied on
his attention by this form of his sermon. While it was
true of him, as of the old Scotch woman's minister,
"The gude man ha' a pith wi' his paper," it is quite
likely that pith was at times less pungent than it would
have been had his page been more open and his chi-
rography bolder. In Dean Swift's advice to a clergy-
man even Dr. Chapin might have found a useful hint :
" Let me entreat you to add one half-crown a year to
the article of paper, to transcribe your sermons in as
large and plain a manner as you can, and either make
no interlineation, or change the whole leaf; for we,
your hearers, would rather you should be less correct
than given to stammering, which I take to be one of
the worst solecisms in rhetoric. "

But, while Dr. Chapin had full command of the size
of his manuscript and could thus gratify his haljit of
persistence, there is one diversity in the aspect of his
written sermons over which he had no control. How-
ever it may have given pain to his eye, time wrought
its inevitable contrasts. Between the deep buff of his
earlier manuscripts, bathed for a generation in New
York smoke and dust, and the fresh whiteness of his
recent ones, there is a wide breach in color, and a couple
of fac-similes of this non-uniformity would be at least
amusing. In many instances the great preacher brought
about an amalgamation of the two colors, setting them

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SERMONS AND LECTURES. 235

in the same manuscript, like the marrying of an octo-
roon and a blonde, or the blooming of a tea rose and a
white rose from the same stem. He often sewed an
ancient and modern manuscript together; in a few
instances three sermons of different ages were tangled
into one. He knew the art of clerical economy, and
eked out a new discourse by stealing from an old one,
or gave to an old one a modern finish, as an old house
is sometimes given a new story and a fresh style. His
more frequent transit, however, was from the white to
the yellow, as if in the treatment of his theme it came
over him that among his hundreds of manuscripts he
had one or more in which he had made the points he
now had in mind, and hastened to avail liunself of the
labor-saving suggestion.

His manuscripts reveal yet another stroke of econo-
my in toil to which he often resorted. From his writ-
ten themes he frequently extemporized at a later date,
and made his briefs or notes on the pages opposite
the written ones. Thus the same manuscript carries the
sermon in two forms, and has done a double service.
Here are the etching and the full painting ranged side
by side, but the moving pictures flashed on the vision
of the people must have been much the same. On
some of his sermons appear two or more dates, indica-
ting their repetition, and generally at not very wide inter-
vals apart, as if the themes were still haunting his soul
and appealing for a second or a third deliverance ; and
occasionally the word Repeated appears on the front
page. But it is a comfort to know that this hard-
worked minister was thus not wholly blind or averse to
some arts of easing his tasks.

236 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

But the most remarkable feature of Dr, Chapin's
manuscripts is their uniform incompleteness. It is very-
doubtful if in sermon or lecture he has left a com-
pleted composition. In no habit was he more persist-
ent that in that of begmning to write with evident
care and fulness, and ending with illegible phrases and
words ; and it is easy to trace, as he advances, his lapse
into fragmentary paragraphs and periods and degener-
ated chirography. This tendency appears in the printed
fac-similes, which are an earlier and a later page of the
same discourse. In a few pages from the start his
manuscript shows signs of haste in his hand, and soon
becomes sketchy and unreadable ; but, as he wrote,
the real sermon rose and rushed toward an ideal
completeness. The worse the manuscript the better
the sermon. A compelled haste may now and then
have been responsible for this method of work ; but
it was no doubt mainly due to psychological con-
ditions, the laws and processes of his inner life. No
sooner would he get fairly to musing on his theme and
opening it out on paper than his mind would so kindle
and his impulses so acquire impetus that his pen was
utterly powerless to make record of his swift visions
and rapt feelings, and did little more than indicate by
meagre scrawls the grand unfolding of his discourse as
a mental and spiritual achievement. As a hurrying
traveller through a forest cannot delay to make a road,
but only blazes a tree here and there to keep him on
his path if ever he passes that way again, so Dr. Chapin,
swept forward by a whirlwind of tliought and feeling,
could not pause to write out with plainness and fulness
his sermons, but dashed on, only leaving such hasty

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 237

traces of his course as would enable liim in his pulpit
to find again the lofty path he had traversed in his
study. It may also have been in part a policy with
him to leave these unwritten gaps and conclusions,
since he knew his rare gift of off-hand speech, by w^hich
lie could fill the voids with thrilling clunaxes. Tor the
fullest deliverance of himself, and the best effects on
his hearers, he may have sought moments of entire
abandon to the rush of thought and feeling. He could
wisely trust his emotions to a spontaneous utterance,
since they were of that intensity and elevation that
hurled them into forms of beauty and power, as crystals
burst under great heat into charming shapes.

But passing to a deeper view of Dr. Chapin's sermons
we fail to find in them some traits for which those but
partially acquainted with his character would naturally
look. An exuberant wit, still are his sermons uni-
formly serious. A hearty lover of fun, having an eye
to detect puns in almost every combination of words,
freely seasoning his conversation with the spice of wit,
it was yet a rare occurrence in his preaching that he
drew a smile from his hearers. It would be difficult to
find a jest in his dozen or more volumes of published
discourses. They are cheerful but never witty ; full of
sunny thoughts and sentiments, but free from all face-
tiae. He now and then approached satire, but rarely
surrounded it with an air of levity, as did the witty
Sydney Smith. If his thrusts were sharp, they were
still more serious than humorous. It is not probable
that he had a theory on this matter to which he con-
formed his practice, but that liis gravity was the real
and free mood of his spirit. Intellectually he would

238 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

agree witli Cowper, that "'tis pitiful to court a grin,
when you should woo a soul, to break a jest when
pity would inspire pathetic exhortation, and to address
the skittish fancy with facetious tales when sent with
God's commission to the heart;" but he would also
accord wisdom to the statement of Milton, that " even
this vein of laughing, as I could produce out of grave
authors, hath oft-times a strong and sinewy force in
teaching and confuting." It was no doubt due to his
temperament that he was kept thus from blending
gravity and levity. His native ardor bore him exclu-
sively into one mood or another, so that when devoted
to sacred things his wit was as if it were not ; and when,
on the other hand, he gave himself to frolic, it was with
an equally undivided surrender to the passing mood.
His current feeling was so marked and strong it pre-
cluded the intrusion of a counter-feelmg. He was too
intense to be versatile.

To this trait of his character we must also ascribe,
no doubt, the absence of literary allusions and quota-
tions from his sermons. A constant reader of the
choicest books, a student of the poets and dramatists,
versed in the legendary and folk-lore of many lands, an
eager reader of the best works on art, familiar with the
authors who treat of social and moral philosophy, and
conversant with all the Broad-church writers from Tauler
to Martineau, — a very devotee, in short, of high and
quotable literature, — still he rarely made a reference, and
more rarely a quotation, which indicated the range of his
reading. In his earlier years he was much more given
to reflecting .his wealth of literary treasures than later
in life. His first and last book reveal a marked con-

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 239

trast in this respect, not that the former is at all pedan-
tic, but that the latter is strangely exempt from all echoes
and glimpses of the great authors. Mainly as an uncon-
scious influence, a wisdom and beauty and energy as-
similated and made personal, does literature at length
reappear on his written and printed pages. No more
in name and phrase, or but rarely, do we find Homer
and Milton, Eaphael and Euskin, Fenelon and Chan-
ning, pressing into his composition ; but there can be no
doubt that, as the fragrance of the flowers fills the air
unseen, the fine spmt of these sons of genius pervades
his mspiied and glowing periods. It was not in vain
that he had communed with them , and perhaps we get
the more of them in spirit, as we get less in formal
allusion. It was said by the eloquent Dr. Alexander,
in his later ministry : " I am less and less in favor of
quotation in sermons. My tendency used to be very
much that way; but as my manner becomes warmer
and more practical, I let these brilliant patches alone."
So did Dr. Chapm sacrifice literary embellishment to his
fervor and hnpetus in the hour of composition or of
extemporaneous discourse. He rose above the frame of
mind which is discursive and can freely range the field
of literature, and pause to recall and set in form a
happy quotation or to consult and quote from the orig-
inal text. In his ardor he freely created the phraseology
which would best serve his purpose, and cared not to
look about for less glowing and graphic terms. A high
inspiration is self-sufficing, and hindered, rather than
helped, by any attempt to borrow assistance.

Nor do Chapin's sermons, in manuscript or in print,
disclose to the reader many of the looked-for passages

240 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

by which he wrought overwhehnmg effects m delivery.
The majority of his climaxes may have been extempo-
raneous, outbursts from his soul in the moments of
its rapture ; but they were not all thus independent of
the written page. He often seized upon the periods his
pen had cast and rendered them startling to the hearer.
He would turn a paragraph into a battery by which he
would electrify and thrill his audience. Into a phrase
he would hurl a tempest of passion. But this he did
very much at his pleasure, or in response to the instan-
taneous concentration of the fire in his soul. Hence
his manuscripts were especially dependent on his mar-
vellous personality. It required his kindled heart and
magnetic voice to break their steady energy into a most
impressive diversity of effects. They were supple instru-
ments in his hands, and made to work wonders beyond
anything that the reader would suspect. While they
are full of beauty and strength which cannot be hidden
from the eye, he made them tenfold more grand and
impressive to the ear.

In like manner will the reader look in vain to Cha-
pin's sermons for references to himself. He rarely in-
dulged in a word of autobiography, but treated his
themes on the most impersonal grounds. In this he
may have been modest beyond what is wise ; for, while
there is a vanity in many a preacher which makes him
tedious in his garrulity about his own experiences and
deeds, there is a use to be made of personal history, of
inner and outer events, which, while imparting a human
interest, may serve to unfold and enforce divine truth.
A bit of autobiography is often a source of pleasure and
instruction, and to a biographer it is a desideratum ; but

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 241

Dr. Cliapin modestly avoided to speak of what was per-
sonal to himself. With a master's hand he painted the
portrait of his Saviour, but never sketched his own face
as a side picture. He shrunk from being an official
figure-head in the Church. " Men have," said he, " a
great deal of respect for the clergyman on account of
his office. I do not want any such officious respect. I
do not want any of that feeling for the parson as a sort
of embodiment of cold ecclesiastical formalities, — for
instance, that kind of respect for the clergyman that
will check a man from swearing in his presence ; ' Ah,
I beg pardon ; T see there is a minister present.' iSTever
beg my pardon for swearing ; if you don't care about
offending God, you need not trouble yourself about
offending me." As a star is lost in the effulgence of the
sun, so in his pulpit would he be lost m the greater light
of the Divinity, — lost to his own self -consciousness and
to the consciousness of his audience. He preached not
himself, but the Gospel.

The traits in Dr. Chapin's sermons which most com-
mend them are their broad and lofty themes, and the
sincere and poetic earnestness with which they are
treated. Xo man ever shared a keener or stronger sym-
pathy with human life, for in him life was abound-
ing riches, a charged and surcharged battery, a majestic
and swift tide, a thrilling pilgrimage, a stirring drama,
a grand warfare. That which is indifferent to the low
and sluggish nature was all-absorbing to his living soul.
In his more placid hours he might say with Emerson :
" Life is sweet as nitrous oxide ; " but he was oftener in
a mood of more intense delight, and could exclaim with
Schiller : " Oh God ! how lovely still is life ! " But a

16

242 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

stronger adjective would better serve his frequent ex-
perience, and with the Persian Dabistan he could cry
out : " Oh Life ! thou art the Flame of flames ! " Open
to almost any page of his printed sermons and this fa-
vorite word will greet you, standing alone like the even-
ing star, or in groups Hke the shining clusters of the
later night. It is the theme of many of his sermons ;
and of his twenty-two courses of sermons which remain
in manuscript, in full or broken sets, the following gen-
eral titles are characteristic : Discourses on Life,
Elements of Modern Life, Conditions of Personal and
Social Life, Phases of Life, Pieligion in Every-day Life,
Spheres of Life and Conduct, Spheres of Life and Duty,
Life Lessons from the Book of Proverbs ; and to these
may be added the title of one of his published volumes,
— Moral Aspects of City Life. The little word was so
great with meaning as he shaped it out of his experi-
ence that it fairly haunted him, and he returned again
and again to the theme. He was so much a man of the
heart and the imagination that he cared not to contem-
plate principles and sentiments in the abstract, but
grew enthusiastic over them as they took the forms of
life and experience. Hence his love of history, legend,
folk-lore, and anecdote. It was when the universal be-
came personal and passed into living aspects, taking to
itself love, hope, virtue, heroism, filling public and pri-
vate spheres, toiling and striving, traversing the arenas
of tragedy, comedy, romance, saintship, that his interest
was enlisted and his genius fired with passion to
paint the scenes and aid the actors in the midst of
them. " The crowd in the city," said he, " affords
comparatively little interest, when we contemplate it

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 243

merely as a crowd. But when we resolve it into its in-
dividual particles, and consider each of these as endued
with the attributes and involved in the conditions of
humanity, our deepest sympathies are touched. Every
drop of that great stream is a conscious personality. In
some shape the Universe is reflected in it. In some
way it takes hold of the reality of life ; and the living
organism of which it is composed both acts and suffers,
receives from the world around it and contributes to
it." Thus in personality, and the play of the invisible
principles of the universe in daily deeds and feelings, he
found a favorite topic of discourse.

And it was for this reason that Christ was so often
the theme of his preaching. In him he saw religion
taken out of its abstract form, and brought home to the
heart and set before the imagination. He felt it a
privilege to turn from the creeds, so cold and barren, and
fix his gaze on a living Christianity in the Son of God.
He shared a devotion to his Master that any Saint of
the Eomish Church might have envied. To him he
gave his love; him he glorified with his reverent and
poetic genius ; and to him he most desired to lead his
fellow-beings, that like Mary they might sit at his feet
and be helped. In a sermon of his early life, preached
at the ordination of Eev. C. H. Fay, he defined the
office- of the pulpit m the following words : —

It should exhibit Christ to the world. Not the Christian-
ity of the Church, not the Christianity of the Creed, — but
Christ as he hved, Christ as he taught, Christ as he appeared
in all his moral power and loveHness, apart from the systems
and tenets of men, Christ as he spoke at Olivet, Christ as
he prayed in Gethsemane, Christ as he wept at the grave of

244 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

LazaruS; Christ as he died upon the cross, Christ as he
arose from the sepulchre. Here is enough to move the heart,
to start the penitential tear, to call forth from the welling
fountains of the spirit gushings of love and tenderness. Oh !
there is a boundless theme opened for the preacher in the
character of Jesus. Here are topics for his discourses, ex-
amples for his imitation, and the noblest motives that can be
brought to bear upon the universal mind.

To this early conception of the office of the Christian
pulpit he remained steadfast to the end of his days ; for
it was a conception alilvc congenial to the native bias of
his heart and imagination, which demanded that the
universal should become personal,— and kindling to
his gifts of eloquence, by its appeals to love, grati-
tude, veneration, and a soldierly devotion to a great and
worthy leader.

Of God and man, duty and destiny, law and compen-
sation, he often treated in his sermons ; but always
strove to set tliese themes in concrete and living forms.
He brought them on the arena of life, and invested
them with a human interest. He treated them picto-
rially and graphically, as a great artist or poet bodies
forth the unseen.

His references to nature are as poetic and reverent as
they are frequent. He approached it as if it were a
shrine, and his soul gladly confessed its deeper signifi-
cance, the light within the light, the beauty which is
the soul of the beautiful, the love that glows in all its
forms and outgoings.

" It is a great thing," said he, " to see the spiritual truth
that all nature symbolizes. Take that familiar and grand fact
I saw on the verge of Niagara. There were the crystal battle-

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 245

ments ; there was the raiubow round about the throne ; there,
ascending and descending, were outlines of spirit-forms, Avith
their sweeping, glorious garments of white ; there, in perpet-
ual acclamation, with the voice of many waters and with the
voice of mighty thunderings, went up the ascription, ' Allelu-
jah ! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ! ' "

As an expression of a more quiet sympathy with
nature, a conscious rest of the soul under her mystic
sway, a silent reading of her far-off tokens of love, a
drawing of hope and trust from her calm immensities,
the quotation given below can but soothe and bless the
reader : —

In calm, fine nights of the latter summer, when the woods
are clothed Avith the luxuriance of maturity and the corn
stands fully ripe, — in the clear midnight, when all else is
still, — there comes a manifestation as of the conscious earth
communing with the conscious universe. There rises a low,
deep murmur of the sea upon its shores, and the leaves shiver
with a sudden ecstasy, and a light of answering gladness rip-
ples along the firmament and sparkles to the edge of the
remotest constellations. It is as if nature herself knew the
counsel that embosoms all things, and for a moment confessed
the glorious purpose. This may be fancy, but surely it sym-
bolizes a consoling fact. As in space, so in the immensity of
God's plan and among the ministering infiuences of his Prov-
idence, our world is carried onward, — with the graves of the
saints and the martyrs on her breast, and the crescent good
slowly spreading over her ; and the seeds of truth and right-
eousness, planted with great pains and buried often in seem-
ing defeat, are swelling with life and bursting into victory.

As it was said of Mrs. Siddons that she was tragic in
all things, — even stabbing the potato she took from the

246 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

dish to her plate, and asking for her fan with a his-
trionic air, — so it may be said of Chapin's genius : pre-
eminently spiritual and moral, it never began to act but
it fell into the making of a sermon. His earliest poems
were sermons. His speeches in the Van Buren cam-
paign, when he was a law-student, could not have been
anything but sermons. The many speeches he made
during the years of his popularity as a speaker, how^ever
they may have started off amid an effervescence of wit,
directly passed into a serious temper and treated some
grave problem of life ; and usually the division between
the sport, which was for an instant, and the ardent
preaching which followed, was as marked as that be-
tween the glittering froth and the deep-hued wine below
it, or between the gay crest of some oriental bird and
the sober plumage which covers its body. His editori-
als, with rare exceptions, were sermonical in theme and
spirit, and the great majority of them had been preached
in his pulpit as parts of his sermons. His lectures, what-
ever their titles may have been, and their drapery of
history and reference to current events and anecdote,
were essentially sermons. On the platform he was the
preacher still, seeking to enlighten and inspire souls by
a discussion of moral truths and principles. Every one
of his sixteen published works was first preached in his
pulpit. Even as a necessity is laid upon the acorn, in
case it passes into germ and shrub and tree, to become
an oak, so he seemed compelled by some deeper ,sway of
his genius to bear every topic into a higher than tem-
poral light, and to discuss it with reference to " building
and being." On this ground Mr. Emerson, who says
that " necessity does everytlimg well," would account

SERMONS AND LECTUEES. 247

for their power as sermons. "A fortunate necessity is
superior to art," says ^schylus ; and no one can doubt
the good fortune of Dr. Chapin as a preacher, in this com-
manding proneness to think and feel in the direction of
the true, the beautiful, and the good, and to plead ever
for more saintly living.

A list of his published volumes will be read with
interest as an index of his character and work. It
bespeaks the practical mind, as well as the devotional
heart. If the creed is absent from it, the spirit and
worth of religion as a presence in daily life are made
manifest.

Duties of Young Men, exhibited in Six Lectures ; with an
Anniversary Address, delivered before the Eichmond Lyceum,
184:0. Abel Tompkins, Boston, publisher.

Discourses on Various Subjects, 1841. Abel Tomkpins,
publisher.

The Philosophy of Eeform ; a Lecture delivered before the
Berean Institute, in the Broadway Tabernacle, New York,
January 20, 1843 ; with Four Discourses upon the same gen-
eral topic, delivered in New York and Brooklyn, 1843. C.
L. Stickney, New York, publisher.

Hours of Communion, 1844. Abel Tompkins, publisher.

The Crown of Thorns, a Token for the Sorrowing, 1847.
Abel Tompkins, publisher.

Duties of Young Women, 1848. Geo. W. Briggs, Boston,
pubhsber.

Discourses on the Lord's Prayer, 1850, Abel Tompkins,
publisher.

Characters in the Gospels, illustrating phases of character at
the present day, 1852. J. S. Eedfield, New York, publisher.

Moral Aspects of City Life, 1853. Henry Lyon, New
York, publisher.

248 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Humanity in the City, 1854. De Witt & Davenport,
New York, publishers,

Christianity the Perfection of True Manliness, ISS-l.
Henry Lyon, publisher.

Select Sermons, 1859- Henry Lyon, publisher.

Discourses on the Beatitudes, 1853. Abel Tompkins,
publisher.

Extemporaneous Discourses, 1860. 0. Hutchinson, New
York, publisher.

Lessons of Faith and Life, 1877. James Miller, New
York, publisher.

Church of the Living God, 1881. James Miller, pub-
lisher.

"Select Sermons" was republished in 1869, by
Williamson & Cantwell, of Cincinnati, with the title,
" Providence and Life." This issue has a brief but appre-
ciative biographical introduction by Kev. A. D. Mayo.
" Extemporaneous Discourses " was republished in
1881, a few months after the author's death, by
James Miller of New York, with the title, "God's
Eequirements, and other Sermons."

In 1846 "The Fountain, a Temperance Gift" was
edited by Rev. John G. Adams and Rev. E. H. Cha-
pin, and published by George W. Briggs of Boston.
Three of the articles in this volume were from the pen
of Mr. Chapin The Temperance Movement, An Appeal
to the Influential Classes, and the Young Drunkard,
In the preface the editors jointly "invoke Heaven's
blessings on our Fountain. May its \vnng waters
gush out and flow forth in gladness to many a soul"
During the same year these genial coworkers compiled,
and Abel Tompkins published, Hymns for Christian

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 249

Devotion, especially adapted to the Universalist Denom-
ination. This hymn book was compiled with true spir-
itual and poetical insight, and is found in many of the
churches of the order at the present time.

In 1860 Eev. Orren Perkins collected many of the
gems from Chapin's printed works, and these were pub-
lished in a large and handsome volume by Abel Tomp-
kins, under the general headmg, ''Living Words." On
the titlepage Mr. Perkins set the ambitious motto : —

"Jewels five words long,
That on the stretched forefinger of all time
Sparkle forever ; "

while Ptev. Thomas Starr King, in an introductory letter
sent from San Francisco, ventured to claim much in
behalf of Chapin's gift of condensing broad areas of
light into brilliant flashes. A paragraph from his letter
will be read with interest : —

Each new volume by Dr. Chapin has borne testimony to
advancing and ripening power. This one, doubtless, will
show, more potently than any other which the public has seen,
the breadth and vigor of the intellectual gifts which lie has
so faithfully dedicated. Books of this character are pecu-
liarly adapted to our American hurry and impatience of elab-
orate and artistic address. Very often the best thing in a
sermon or speech — the only original paragraph or passage —
is an illustration or an aphorism, or a sudden gleam of imag-
ination which condenses the meaning of the discourse, or sets
an old truth at an angle where it glows like a gem. "Whoever
masters this one passage holds the value of the whole effort.
The richest minds of the pulpit are those which sprinkle their
pages most freely with these seed-thoughts, or from whose
extempore utterance can be caught the most of the sentences

250 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

which are lenses for the rays of Christian truth. Diffuseness
is especially the vice of pulpit speech. The formula which
Carlyle stated as to books is peculiarly true of sermons:
" Given a cubic inch of respectable Castile soap, to lather it
up in water so as to fill one puncheon, Avine-measure." Vol-
umes like Mr Beecher's "Life Thoughts" save for us the solid
matter, and give us what is vital in the preacher, disengaged
from what is mechanical. There are comparatively few who
can bear this test of husking off the accessories, and selecting
only the original germ -passages which are quickened by the
preacher's own insight and experience. The poverty of many
a fair looking discourse is patent when this process is tried
upon it. The volume of selections from Dr. Chapin's ser-
muns and writings will show, I am sure, that his mind is one
of the richest, as well as that his heart is one of the most fer-
vent and simplest, that is now in communion, as a preacher,
with our American life.

Before the lyceums of tlie country Dr. Chapin gave
the following lectures : — Orders of Nobility ; Social
Forces; Modern Chivalry ; Building and Being; The Old
and the New ; The Eoll of Honor ; Man and his Work ;
Woman and her Work ; The People ; The Age of Iron ;
Europe and America ; John Hampden, or the Progress
of Popular Liberty ; Columbus ; Franklin.

In these lectures there is more of the head and less
of the heart than in his sermons, and for this reason
they were less favorable to an overwhelming eloquence.
In them his genius did not come into its freest and full-
est play, since there is less of the divine in them at
which he so readily kindled. They surpass his sermons
in rhetoric, but fall below them in feeling. They are
more studied and less inspired, more didactic and less
poetic, more logical and less lyrical, more fitted to

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 251

awaken admiration and less to subdue the soul to won-
der and awe, and sweep it into a holy rapture. Their
scenery is less mountainous and romantic, and their at-
mosphere not so morning-like and refreshing. They are
more removed from the high region of First Causes and
the arenas on which the heavenly lights descend, and
hence were not so likely to engage the oratorical powers
of the speaker, which were mainly tenants of his soul.
At a long range their arguments suggest the forum and
their dramatic passages the stage, while the pulpit,
which was Chapin's real throne, is not made to appear
in fullest view. Only as the musical theme plays
through the variation does the sermon linger and bear
rule in the lecture ; and by as much as it fails to be the
sole geuius of the composition, by so much are the fer-
vor and sway of the orator diminished; and yet for
twenty-five years he was an acknowledged prince on the
lyceum platform.

The lecture on the Orders of Nobility is one of his
earliest and best, and seems to have been a favorite with
its author as well as the public. It remains in two
well-worn manuscripts. To secure a bolder and plainer
handwriting all of his lectures are copied mto blank-
books of letter-paper size, and for durability they are
bound in flexible leather covers. The more used lectures
are in duplicates of this form, the one worn and soiled,
the other fresher and brighter ; and the dates of re-writ-
ing indicate that he usually made this a vacation task.
On the older copy of Orders of ISTobility is the record of
ninety places in which he delivered it ; and in the later
copy, which is a revision and improvement, he made
note of two hundred and forty-seven deliveries. The

252 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

prices which this lecture brought range from twenty-
five to two hundred and fifty dollars. When some one
asked him what he lectured for, he replied : " For f-a-
m-e, fifty and my expenses." . But this was in the
long-ago, when lecturing was a more serious but less
paying service than it has been in more recent years.
If we take, however, the low figures indicated by the
witticism of the author, as the average price for each
delivery, we shall find the income from this lecture
reaching the liberal sum of sixteen thousand eight hun-
dred and fifty dollars. It is probable that twenty thous-
and dollars would be a closer estimate. But this
was only one of several lecture mines from which
he quarried. Modern Chivalry must have been de-
livered nearly as many times. His most worn man-
uscript contains this lecture, but in it is no record of
places or prices. It is probable, however, that it must
have served on nearly three hundred platforms. A
later copy gives information of seventy deliveries. Even
his much, more recent lecture, on Building and Being,
was given one hundred and thirty times, and in one
season, 1874-5, it brought him the handsome reward of
three thousand and thirty dollars. His John' Hamp-
den appears with three titles — "John Hampden and
his Times," " John Hampden and his Times, or the Pro-
gress of Popular Liberty," "John Hampden, or the
Progress of Popular Liberty " — and in five manuscripts,
which do not indicate any great degree of service. On
one is the record of thirty-two deliveries, with prices
ranging from one hundred to one hundred and twenty-
five dollars.

But while Dr. Chapin thus turned genius and toil

SERMONS AND LECTURES. 253

into money, a fair and legitimate exchange, he carried a
great blessing to the public through his lectures. He
gave better than he received. In thought his messages
from the platforms were progressive, in spirit they were
chaste and noble, in rhetoric they were surpassingly bril-
liant, and in the eloquence of their delivery they were the
sources of an enthusiastic delight. In some degree they
were witty and satirical, and sent ripples and waves of
laughter through his audiences ; but in the mam they
were glowing discussions of great and useful themes,
and made the world better and happier.

XV.

HIS UNIVERSALISM.

A Schoolmate of Dr. Chapin, the Eev. J. A. White,
D. D., of Michigan, in a letter to the " New York
Evangelist," written soon after the death of the elo-
quent preacher, said : —

The remarkable thing about Chapin is his getting into a
Universalist pulpit, for his education Avas after a strictly Or-
thodox pattern But he carried to that pulpit a

goodly youthful training and a knowledge of the Scriptures.
And though I have not heard him preach, I have many times
heard from his preaching ; for people at the West who visit
New York, are apt to hear celebrated preachers of any de-
nomination. The testimony of such was, when they heard
him, that " there was nothing in his sermons of Universalism,
or that in any Avay marked his denominational connection."
I have heard, too, that this has been a subject of complaint
with Universalists.

Wliile the sense of his loss was fresh in the public
heart, Mr. Beecher said in the " Christian Union :" —

Probably a stranger might have attended his ministry for
many successive Sundays, and surmised his denominational
relations only by his uniformly tender and sympathetic por-
traitures of God.

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 255

The editor of "Harper's Weekly," near the same
date, wrote : —

Chapin was the reverse of dogmatic in his spirit, and he
seldom referred to the distinctive doctrines of Universalism.
Only once did the writer of this notice liear such a reference ;
at the funeral of Horace Greeley he spoke briefly but point-
edly of Mr. Greeley's firm adherence to the faith of the
Universalist Church.

In terms similar to the above has Chapin often been
referred to by editor and correspondent, and in private
conversation ; and not seldom has a statement been
pressed, through ignorance or a questionable motive, to
the extent of a denial of his faith in the final salvation
of all souls. But to all who may give to this chapter a
careful reading, it will be evident that such a statement
rests either on a partial view of facts, or on a wish
which is " father of the thought." That both of these
errors should have transpired has been quite natural.
On the one hand, his Universalism, having been re-
vealed more in the spirit of his preaching than verbally,
might easily be missed by such as heard him only to a
limited extent, and were watching for an open assault
on Calvinism and the eternity of punishment, and
trimming their ears to hear a formal declaration of the
creed of universal redemption ; and on the other hand,
it has been exceedingly human and pleasant on the part
of those not of the Universalist sect, to claim one so
full of piety and so popular, as being of their per-
suasion.

From the start, as a youthful editor in Utica, to the
end of his ministry, he maintained a uniform habit of
makmg but an occasional statement of his faith in the

256 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

final triumph of good over all evil. It is probable this
wcs never the main point of any sermon he wrote or
preached. It was never his uppermost thought. Not
in the form of a proposition to defend, but rather as an
inference from premises already defended, did it come
into his discourses. It was the veiled statue always
standing at his side in the pulpit, whose drapery he
lifted now and then, as with an impromptu but ardent
hand, — and none could mistake the figure. The
graphic form was distinctive Universalism. Its identity
with that which stood constantly derobed by the side
of a Ballou and a Streeter is unmistakable.

Whoever chanced to make one of Chapin's audience
when he thus unveiled the statue needsd no voice to
tell him he was in a Universalist church. We may
listen to a single witness, as the representative of many.
A member of the English Parliament, William Edward
Baxter, came to visit our country, and on his return
wrote a book entitled : " America and the Americans,"
in which, among other eminent clergymen, he speaks of
Chapin. He thus reports his sermon : —

He preached from Lnke, 19th chapter, 41st verse, — Jesus
weeping over Jerusalem. It was in some respects the great-
est rhetorical effort at which it has been my good fortune to
be present, either on this or the other side of the ocean. For
brilliancy of description and splendor of imagery I do not
think it could well be excelled. I can almost fancy that I
hear him yet apostrophizing the Holy City, as looking down
from Olivet he pointed out its temple and palaces, and re-
called the associations connected with it in the minds of both
Jew and Gentile, the Christian and the Mussulman, the
American who dwells in a new country far away over the sea,

HIS UNIVERSAUSM. 257

and the Arab who feeds his camels by the vuins of Tadmor
in the wilderness. I thought of the well-known passage in
" Tancred," descriptive of Jerusalem by moonlight ; but Cha-
pin attempted and succeeded in a higher flight than was ven-
tured on by the genius of Disraeli. The speaker proceeded
to say that his text illustrated, in the first place, " the intense
humanity of the Saviour," under which head he declared that
the majority of Christians at the present day remove him
from their sympathies in a vain attempt to do him honor.
This part of .his discourse was distinguished for its touching
and stirring appeals and its undisguised Socinianism. In
the second place he remarked, the text showed " the philati-
thropy of Christ," of whom he spoke as a manifestation of
the Divine love. Then followed a wonderfully eloquent
peroration on the love of God to men, which he declared was
the one and the only moral influence fitted to regenerate the
world ; and he called upon the congregation to look forward
to that happy time when the influence of God's love shall be
felt by all who need it, and when universal humanity shall
respond " Hosanna in the highest."

In a discourse written and preached during his min-
istry in Eichmond, entitled — " Universalisni : What it
Is, and What it is Not," and which is now one of the
most popular of the tracts issued by the Universalists,
he made the following point: —

In regard to the extent and duration of punishment, there
is a diff"erence of opinion among us, as there is on other points
among other sects, who yet maintain the same general views.
Some hold that sin and its consequences extend not beyond
the resurrection state ; others, that the effects of sin, at least,
are felt in another existence, and that, therefore, misery is
produced to those upon whom they operate. The last is the
opinion of your speaker. But it is sufficient for the present

17

258 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

occasion to say that all Universalists believe in complete pun-
ishment for sin, and therefore Universalism is not a doctrine
which, teaches that men may do evil with impunity ; but it is
fl doctrine which teaches that all mankind will finally be
saved from sin and consequent misery. This is an important
point in our discussion, for it is a position of which our oppo-
nents seem not generally aware. Be it remembered that we
do not enter the arena of discussion to argue against punish-
ment — future punishment — but against the endless duration
of sin and misery. We do not believe that evil is ultimate
in the government of God. We believe there will be a period
when the last enemy shall be destroyed, — when man shall
bow in moral subjection to his Maker, and worship him in
the beauty of holiness.

In a sermon on "The Heavenly State," he substan-
tially repeats the doctruie set forth by the previous
selection.

I am willing to say, and deem it proper that I should,
that I do not hold that death destroys the effects of sin.
The argument from identity that I have employed above, it
seems to me, naturally leads to this conclusion. If we look
upon the soul as the seat of thought and motion, I can con-
ceive that, even tabernacled in a body that is not liable to
physical death, the soul can suffer the consequences of its
guilt. It seems to me that in the future life there may be a
distinction of good and bad. I have not, then, been stating
the glories of heaven as the immediate possession of all at the
end of this life. I have represented it as the true Christian's
home, to which, in every storm and every peril, he may look
with faith's clear vision, and be comforted and strengthened.
But were I to pause here, I should lay myself open to mis-
understanding on the other hand. It is at the position of
endless punishment that I halt. Between endless and limited

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 259

retribution in the future world there is an infinite difference.
The arguments which support the one cannot be pressed into
the service of the other. I would ask, then, those who hold
the doctrine of endless punishment : Can you reconcile it
with your best ideas of heaven and immortality 1

A firm disciple of the doctrine of free-will, and of the
fact that God will never subject the will to compulsory
pressure, he still felt no misgiving, as do the Uncertain-
arians, as to the issue of that freedom under the moral
government of God. In full accord with its personal
liberty, he felt that every soul will at length be saved
and join in the great song of redemption. In the eter-
nal perversity of the finite will against infinite wisdom
and love, which is the ground on which eternal punish-
ment is now predicated, he no more believed than he
believed in the power of man's puny arm to resist the
sweep of Niagara. In the day of Divine power the
soul, he felt, will be a willing captive. On the vast
arena of moral conflict and discipline, — with God and the
angels and all loving and holy powers on the one side,
and the sinner on tliQ other, he foresaw, as in a vision
of implicit faith, the banner of a universal victory raised
at last on the divine side.

" Believing as I do," he observes in his sermon on " The
Joy of the Angels," "that the upshot and result must be final
good for all, I cannot hold to that upshot of final good as
coming by any desecration of man's personality. If I could
believe that, with all these influences brought to bear upon
him, — the greater loves of the nobler spheres, — man could
still hold on to perverse, selfish sin, then I could believe in
endless sin. I believe God poised man upon free action, and
that all the good that comes to him must come, not from

260 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

external pressure, but from his own choice, influenced,
perhaps, by that j^ressure. Therefore I say there is no
barrier on the side of Heaven. Here stands man, untouched
in his freedom and personaHty, moving onward to a wise
and holy result, in perfect consistency with that freedom
and personality."

In God he saw a wise and beneficent Creator, and a
Euler equal to all the demands of the universe, and
hence he declared : "I cannot think that evil is ulti-
mate in the designs of God, or that his designs will
not be accomplished." In these words we have an echo
of Dr. Johnson's celebrated statement: "We know
that God is infinite in wisdom, in power, and in good-
ness ; that therefore he designs the happiness of all his
creatures ; that he cannot but know the proper means
by which this end may be obtained ; and that, in the
use of those means, as he cannot be mistaken, because
he is omniscient, so he cannot be defeated, because he is
almighty." Dr. Chapin, like Dr. Johnson, believed in
the undisputed supremacy of the divine sceptre, when
the great battle shall be fought to its end. The contest
is an unequal one and the victory assured. Already
the tendency of the strife indicates its issue. Good
slowly gains upon evil ; errors have fallen on many a
field m the great conflict with truth ; cruelty has felt
the sway of love ; and the kingdom of darkness recedes
from the kingdom of light. With the process of the
suns, measured by a wide sweep, we may see the ripen-
ing of the divine purpose, and hope flies on from the
pages of history to read the final account of a triumphant
God. " Limited as is our sight," observes Dr. Chapin
in a sermon on Humility and Hope, " seeing through

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 261

a glass darkly, still we see enough of the working of
this stupendous mechanism of things to look for the
victory of Goodness over all forms of evil — for uni-
versal light and peace."

As a child confides in its father and mother, so he
trusted in Providence, and his heart was steadily
cheered. To him the "bow in the cloud" was no un-
meaning symbol, but on it he read the prophecy of the
rolling away of all the darkness and storm of the uni-
verse, and the coming of the clear and peaceful day.
Under God all will be well in the end. " Every atom
of that dishevelled water [at Niagara] is held in the
curve of nature," said he, " and descends by law, and
combines and sweeps onward to the broad lake. So
with human events : they are governed ; they accom-
plish a majestic course ; and over theii' maddest plung-
ing, their most terrible anarchy, there arches the
superintending Providence." Hence the passages in the
Psalms and the New Testament which breathe the
spirit of a boundless trust were the ones he of tenest read.
His favorite hymns were those that were full of confi-
dence and love in the direction of the Everlasting
Father. In Bryant's over-watched " Water Fowl," he
saw the symbol of himself, and quoted to his own heart
the closing stanza : — •

" He wlio, from zone to zone,
Guides through the boundless sty thy certain flight,
In the long way that I must tread alone,
"Will lead my steps aright."

But the love he saw around his own path, hedging all
fatal digressions, persuading to the goal of all good, he
saw bending over every child of the Infinite Father, and

262 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

bringing it at last out of the Wilderness into tlie Land
of Promise. Discoursing of Humanity in the City,
he said : —

All the belts of civilization intersect along its avenues. It
contains the product of every moral zone. It is cosmopolitan,
not only in its national, but in its spiritual sense. Here you
may find not only the finest Saxon culture, but the grossest
barbaric degradation. There you pass a form of Caucasian
development, — the fine-cut features, the imperial forehead, the
intelligent eye, the confident tread, the true port and stature
of a man. But who is this that follows in his track, under
the same national sky, surrounded by the same institutions, —
that stunted form, that villanous look. Is it Papuan, Bush-
man, or Carib 1 . . . There sits the beggar, sick and pinched
with cold ; and there goes a man of no better flesh and blood,
and no more authentic charter of soul, wrapped in comfort,
and actually bloated with luxury. There issues the whine of
distress, beside the glittering carriage-wheels. There, amidst
the rush of gayety, the selfish, busy whirl, half-naked, shiver-
ing, with her bare feet on the icy pavement, stands the little
girl, with the shadow of an experience on her that has made her
preternaturally old, and, it may be, driven the angel from her
face. Still, we cannot believe that above that wintry heaven
which stretches over her, there is less regard for the poor,
neglected child than for that rosy belt of infant happiness
which girdles and gladdens ten thousand hearths. And here,
too, through the brilliant street and the broad light of day,
walks purity enshrined in the loveliest form of womanhood.
And along that same street by night, attended by fitting shad-
ows, strolls womanhood discrowned, clothed with painted
shame, — yet, even in the springs of that guilty heart not
wholly quenched.

But as over himself, as over the whitest saint that
has ever graced our planet, so over all this confused

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 263

mass of human life, he saw the bending arch of a Di-
vine Providence, and read on it the promise of universal
salvation. Not as Dante saw the many groups of sin-
ners passing into the world of doom through a gateway
over which was written : " Whoso enters here, let him
leave hope behind," did Dr. Chapin see any souls mov-
ing in hopeless paths. "The Infinite Fatherhood encir-
cles all," said he ; and m the face of the seeming chaos
through which humanity is groping on its way, he
quoted the trustful stanzas of the poet : —

" Eacli, where his tasks or pleasures roll,
They pass, and heed each other not.
There is, who heeds, who holds them all,
In His large love and boundless thought.
>,
These struggling tides of life, that seem

In wayward, aimless course to tend,
Ai'e eddies of the mighty stream
That rolls to its appointed end. "

In his reading of Scripture, Dr. Chapin drew his Uni-
versalism more from the spirit than from the letter of
the Sacred Book. "By a single text," said he, "you
may prove transubstantiation ; you may prove the trin-
ity or the unity, or total depravity. Taking simply the
textual letter alone, you may prove eternal damnation
or universal salvation ; you may prove anythmg by a
single text." Approached in this superficial manner,
with an eye to verbal forms merely, the Bible, he felt, is
a book " where each his dogma seeks, and each his dog-
ma finds ; " but he who reads it with a broader view is
the one who will read it aright. And in his sermon last
quoted from he tells us how one of these narrow inter-
preters, blind to the broad and loving and soul-seeking
spirit of the New Testament, —

264 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Sees the phrase " everlasting puuishment," and without re-
gard to the great fact that the Avord eternal is to be inter-
preted by the subject with which it is connected (if it is the
"eternal hills," they cannot be as enduring as the "eternal
God," if it is the " eternal priesthood of Aaron," it cannot
mean as much as the "eternal kingdom of Christ"), he takes
a text, alone, by itself, and crowds it to its extreme literal
meaning, and upon that builds the dark, crushing, and terri-
ble dogma of eternal damnation. For that stands simply
upon the strict interpretation of Avords ; the human heart re-
jects it, the human reason rejects it ; but the sharp textualist
thrusts forward the phrase " everlasting punishment," and
upon that builds his dogma.

When some one asked Chapin if he thought Univer-
salism was running down, he replied: "Yes, I think it
is running doivrt and out into every sect in Christendom ; "
and, as one sees with delight the dark cloud receding
from the shining of the sun, so with pleasure did he
witness the yielding of the old faiths, created in a
sterner era, to this version of Christianity, which is at
once old and new. " The modern doctrine of endless
punishment, set forth by Joseph Cook," he exultantly
remarked, "resembles the old as the domestic cat resem-
bles the Bengal tiger." Addressing the graduating class
of Tufts Divinity School, on the 9th of June, 1878, he
referred more at length, but with no less evident satis-
faction, to the drift of theological thought away from
the Calvinistic standard, toward the creed of universal
redemption, with which, as it will be seen, he variously
identified his own conviction. In his language to these
young men, candidates for the Universalist ministry, we
find at once a note of triumph and a confession of denom-

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 265

inational relations. The passage is indeed significant, as
standing among his final words to the public, and given
on an occasion which rendered them conspicuous: —

Although as UuiversaKsts we have made no change of lati-
tude, there is decidedly a change of climate, and we may be in
danger of being too popular. I need not dilate upon the ex-
traordinary transformation that has passed over the theolog-
ical world. With a few verbal qualifications, thinking men
in all the sects have come to the conclusion that while there
may possibly be an endless something that is evil, it is not
endless misery. At least, the entire substance and sting of
the doctrine of endless punishment have been extracted and
cast aside. The bars have been loosened and the coals have
dropped out. Nothing is left but a mere formal grating of
abstract propositions. We have been lifted from the blaze of
vindictive fire into the thin ether of metaphysics, and left to
vindicate our faith in view of some inconceivable perversity
of the human will. And let us not neglect the illustration
furnished by our fathers in the faith. Without any great
learning or critical apparatus, guided by clear reason and the
deep instincts of the human heart in simple loyalty to con-
victions, they affirmed this so-called heresy, until now we see
this apparent element of discord dissolving into an element of
unity. But this view of the divine government is to be val-
ued not chiefly as a dogma, but as an influence, a transform-
ing power — the power not of mere logical assurance, but of
the infinite love of God in the soul of man. With this con-
viction of the evangelical efficacy of the truth you hold, go
forth to your chosen field of labor.

While the occasional listener to Dr. Chapin's pulpit
efforts, and casual reader of his published sermons, might
miss such passages as have now been quoted, which set
his faith in Universalis m beyond a question, to his reg-

266 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

ular hearers, and those who read him widely, they are as
conspicuous as mountain peaks rising from broad plains,
and as certifying as if they recurred on every passing
Sunday. To them the veiled statue, ever standing by
him, was no uncertain figure; for once, and again and
again, had they seen the drapery removed and the fair
form standing in full view. As they who have heard
the Vox Humana in some great organ know full well,
when the master at the instrument leaves the pleasing
pipe silent, that it is there holding its music in reserve,
so they who were wont to hear Chapin preach knew
that back of his grand and inspiring terms, m which he
set forth the universally accepted truths, this special
word was ever waiting to be spoken.

Dr. Chapin was not a debater, not given to affirming
or denying the disputed points of theology. He was
no text-explainer, manifested no exegetical talent, cared
not to divide the mind of his audience by any discus-
sion, but preferred to draw its heart into a saving sym-
pathy with some great moral principle or humane
sentiment. He sought to awaken in his congregation,
not a strife of thought, but a unity of spirit. " I
would like to have such a sermon," says one who is
a disciple of the broad faith, but who loves the spirit-
ual things of religion still better, "that if a stranger
were present he would not know he was in a Univer-
salist church, except perhaps by the great love and
hope that might pervade the discourse." Such were
the sermons, for the most part, which Dr. Chapin
preached. They did not reveal his creed, but they
filled the temple with a sacred light, disclosed visions
of truth and life which every eye was blest in behold-

HIS UNIVERSALISM. 267

ing, melted all hearts into a common sentiment of love,
hope, worship, aspiration, gratitude, or consolation. In
the words of a writer : —

His converting power was immense, only that he converted
men to a love of the good and beautiful, rather than to any
creed or special form of faith. He converted men from par-
tial, embittering creeds, and from all sectarianism, to a larger
and nobler appreciation of the great Christian truths — the
paternity of God and the brotherhood of man. One half, we
doubt not, of his vast audiences — for vast they were, crowd-
ing even upon the steps to his pulpit, where they sat and
drank in the words of hope and promise that fell from his
tongiie, even as the bees of Hymettus clustered around the
lips of Plato — was composed of persons who were not pro-
fessors of, and very likely not sympathizers with, his creed, —
persons who might hear him preach for months, nor learn
nor think nor care what his formal creed was. For this rea-
son it is that he exerted such a wide spread and potent
influence. His eloquence brought the most diverse creed-men
together, and then sanctified to them the great spiritual and
practical truths taught by the gospel and by nature.

His supreme interest was not in a creed, but in Christ
and in the Christian spirit among men, making life
sweet and beautiful and strong. With a monk's de-
votion to the personal Saviour, and a poet's gift to set
him forth in all the glory of his spirit and power, he
would make religion chiefly a love and aspiration
toward this great soul. Hence he said : —

If ever there arises — as I verily believe there will — a
church as broad as the earth, ample as the free spirit
of God Almighty, and glorious as the truth that came from
heaven, a church of devout men and free minds, a church

268 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

that shall not be hedged in by intellectual limitations, but
bound only by one great cord of unity, that cord will be
union with Christ Jesus. Then meeting with him, taking
hold of him, touching him, we shall come together. Oh,
these crooked roads of diversity through which the sects liave
wandered, these briers and thorns of controversy, these
weary speculations ! Come out of them ; come to the centre
from which you have diverged, and you shall meet Jesus
Christ, — Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian, Universalist.
We may not agree in a statement about Him, but believing
in Him, and touching Him, we shall all be one.

But more and more, with the passing by of the years,
did he come to think a more formal statement of Uni-
versalism essential ; and he expressed a regret to Pv,ev.
Dr. Pullman, who, moved by the wide interest taken
in the Canon Farrar discussion of " everlasting punish-
ment," was in the midst of a course of doctrinal ser-
mons, that he could not join him in such a work. " I
can 't do it," was his expression. He felt himself to be
comparatively powerless in a discussion, and that it
was his mission to bless and save souls by drawing
their attention to undisputed themes. From the Gen-
eral Convention of Universalists he was rarely absent,
and in the educational institutions of the order he was
deeply interested. Among the later acts of his life,
when too weak to preach, was a visit to some of his
wealthy parishioners, in company with President Capen
of Tufts College, to urge on them the claims of that
school. Under the banner of the Universalist Church
he early enlisted, and to the end, by word and act, he
stood true to his colors.

XVI.

THE CHAPIN HOME.

Among the fruits of Dr. Chapin's ministry, which
may be regarded as a wide and various harvest of char-
acter, comfort, and good deeds, none is more character-
istic than the Chapin Home for the Aged and Infirm.
Begotten and fostered by liis life and teachings, regu-
lated in its methods according to his broad and generous
views, it stands before the public as a fitting tribute to
his humanity, and rightly bears his honored name.
From the first annual report, made in 1874, the follow-
ing quotation will be read with interest and approval : —

Two thoughts seem to have been in the minds of those
who conceived the project : first, that the best monument to
him who has nobly served his brother man is that which will
best iUustrate the spirit of his life ; and second, that our city
needed an institution whose charities should be as broad and
beneficent as the genius of freedom is divine and luiiversal.
The Chapin Home was the outgrowth of these sentiments. It
is at once a memorial to Rev, E. H. Chapin, D. D., whose
name it bears, — being erected by his friends in the city which
has been blessed with his ministry for over a quarter of a
century, — and a home where the aged and infirm may find
that loving care so much to be desired in the decline of life.
And that it may fitly commemorate the beloved and honored

270 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

preacher, and harmonize entirely with the Christian thoughts
that gave it birth, they who ask its shelter are not required to
state their articles of faith. The question is not, " What is your
creed? " but " what is your need, my brother or my sister?"

The Act of Incorporation, applied for by Mrs. Edwin
H. Chapin and twenty other women, passed May 1,
1869 ; and it is stated in the Act, that " The general
business and object of said corporation shall be to pro-
vide a home and support for aged and infirm persons."
To the conditions " aged and infirm," the constitution
adds "worthy," since it was the purpose to gather into
the Home a group of the needy ones in the afternoon of
life, who could spend their remaining time on earth hap-
pily together, amid scenes more suggestive of home and
social mtercourse than of charity ; and all the appoint-
ments of the institution are tenderly and delicately
ordered to this end. " The rooms are all furnished hand-
somely, but not alike," as one of the reports affirms,
" the desire of the managers being to have them har-
moniovis in. color and comfort, but to avoid the pain-
ful uniformity that usually characterizes philanthropic
institutions." The beautiful pictures on the walls have
been mostly transferred from the parlors of the wealthy
and benevolent. Into the ample library have been
gathered not a few of the choicest of books, better even
than are found m the average home. In the style of
their raiment the members of the Home are permitted
to gratify their personal tastes, which gives a pleasing
variety. As at a generous fireside, their friends are
made welcome ; and the lady managers mingle in the
venerable company much like kindly neighbors and
friends, or even as younger sisters and daughters. In

THE CHAPIN HOME. 271

sickness an affectionate care is bestowed ; and for no
part of his flock did Dr. Cliapin share a more personal
and tender concern. He went often to see them, some-
times climbmg the many steps leading to their rooms or
their assembly parlor with painful effort ; and many
were the kindly and cheering words he spoke to them,
the filial pleasantries by which he entertained them, the
comforting prayers he offered with them, and the beau-
tiful and touching tributes he paid them as they fell
asleep in the hope of an eternal youth, " where the in-
habitants never say, we are sick " or old. Indeed, a
charity so homelike and ideal is rarely to be met with.
At the first anniversary after the death of Dr. Chapin,
Dr. Howard Crosby said truly : " The Chapin Home is
not like most charitable institutions, which are little
better than prisons, but a true home in the full sense of
that sweet word."

By the terms of admission only those can become
members of the Home who are " not under sixty-five
years of age." But the larger portion of the venerable
group must have moved on to the eightieth milestone
on the journey of life, and are here waiting in comfort
and peace, as on the highest height of time, for their de-
parture to the heavenly city. Eescued from the cold
and harsh waves which beat against the aged poor, here
they find shelter and rest as in a sunny haven ; and
whoever pays them a visit will bless the great preacher
who inspired this unspeakable favor for their last days !
Cheered thus at the evening of life, soothed in their
sickness, made tranquil in death, and buried with affec-
tionate regard, — the spirit of Dr. Chapin must be seen
ever standing amid these mercies and urging them on.

272 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The death Hst of the Home for the year in which
he also went to join the absent ones, suggests with pa-
thetic force his usefulness in time and his honors in
eternity. " From among the most aged of our house-
hold," says the report, "five have gone to their final
rest : Mr. Samuel Pryor died January 22, aged eighty-
seven years ; he had been an inmate two years. Mrs.
Elanor Williamson died January 23, aged one hundred
and four years ; she had been an mmate two years. Mrs.
Emeline Hubbard died April 8, aged seventy-three
years ; she had been an inmate eight years. Mrs. Eliza-
beth Eomaine died April 8, aged eighty-three years ; she
had been an inmate five years ; and Mr. Brewster Jar-
vis died April 11, aged eighty-one years; he had been
an inmate eight years." It must have been a scene to
enhance the joy of the angels, as this venerable group,
in the Better Land, gathered around their benefactor
and friend to bear hun their greetings !

While " only ladies of the Universalist Denomination
of Christians shall be eligible to election as Trustees of
the Institution," the administration of the charity is
carried on in the most unsectarian form and spirit.
Only on this ground would Dr. Chapin consent to its
being founded in his name. Hence the Sunday services
at the Home, which are held regularly, are conducted
by preachers of every denomination except the Roman
Catholic. The second annual report, m 1875, says :
"The number of inmates is thirty-five. Six of these
are Presbyterians, nine Episcopalians, three Baptists, ten
Universalists, two Unitarians, four Methodists, and one
Moravian." The fourth report says : "There are at pres-
ent thirty-five inmates, representing nearly every denom-

THE CHAPIN HOME. 273

ination of religious faith." The eighth report says:
"There are forty-seven inmates," but makes no reference
to sectarian names, a silence that would be most conge-
nial to Dr. Chapin. The Christian love he felt, and
mused on and enjoined, was broad as humanity and
impartial as the sunshine. And the Trustees of the
Home, referring to the loss of their great leader, well
say: "Let us look to it that the standard raised by our
departed friend is not lowered, that the principles he
inculcated are exemplified, that the lessons of love he
taught are the rule and governance of our conduct. So
shall this Institution be a witness to our fidelity and
love, a monument sacred to his name and memory."

The Chapin Home is located on Sixty-sixth Street,
New York. It is a handsome brick building with
brown stone facings, and has a frontage of one hundred
feet. It is five stories high, exclusive of turret. It
contains sixty-seven rooms, besides closets, pantries, and
bath-rooms on each floor. It is heated by steam and
lighted by gas, each room having a heater and burner,
and each floor hot and cold water. The annual cost of its
support is about ten thousand dollars, which is furnished
by contributions from its friends, — mostly by members
of the Church of the Divine Paternity, of which Dr.
Chapin was the beloved pastor. From its foundation in
1869, to the time of her death in 1881, Mrs. Dr. Chapin
was its active and honored president. If earthly good
accomplished rises as a memorial to our credit in heaven,
then will the Chapin Home be regarded among the glo-
rified as an honor to these two souls that gave to it so
much of influence and active service.

18

XVII.

AN ODD-FELLOW.

In the Order of Odd-Fellows Chapin became eminent
as an ofecer, editor, and orator. As lie was rising tow-
ard the zenith of his power and fame, some of his best
hours and days were given to the defence and advance-
ment of this organization. By its practical benevolence,
its aim to render into life the beautiful sentiment of
love, he was drawn to it as the needle is drawn to the
magnet. Its terms Brotherhood and Belief, — so often
recuning in its literature, its formulas, addresses,
and poems, — touched and enticed his broad and gen-
erous heart. Its keynote was in full accord with that
which was sounding in his own soul and in his pulpit
eloquence; and, while he grandly chanted this noble
strain outside, he hastened to join the fraternal chorus
within.

Nor was he indifferent to the social hours he found
among these banded brethren. He took to the friendly
interchange of ideas and encounters of wit for which
the Lodge furnished an opportunity. With heart and
voice he could join in singing the Odd-Fellow's favorite
stanza : —

' ' Where Friendship, Love, and Truth abound,
Among a band of brothers,
The cup of joy goes gaily round,
Each shares the bliss of others."

AN ODD-FELLOW. 275

But no sooner had he taken his place in this
Order, than his gifts were drawn into the most active
service.

Of the " Symbol, and Odd-Fellow's Magazine," pub-
lished monthly in Boston, and having a wide circulation
and mfluence m New England, he was made sole editor.
To great acceptance for two years he filled this import-
ant position, and finally retired only out of regard to
his failing health and need of rest. In his first edito-
rial he paid the Order the following compliment : —

We believe it is calculated to soften those asj^erities that are
induced by our isolated and selfish individuality, that it is
calculated to awakeu sympathy by those bonds of intimate
acquaintanceship which it creates, that it bauishes those
prejudices which are the results of ignorance, and wliich a
knowledge of our brotlier man is apt to dispel, that it excites
emotions of kindness and generosity, and is eminently cal-
culated to make the stranger a friend, and the adversary a
brother. If these are its tendencies, and we think they are,
then is ours a charitable institution, an association pecu-
liarly devoted to the spirit of love, — to the kindly emotions,
the generous deeds, the voluntary sacrifices, the beautiful
amenities that spring from that great principle, and bless
those with Avhom they come in contact.

In a later editorial he afl&rmed : —

"We place Odd-Fellowship upon this single ground, — that
it is an agent in relieving the distress that is in this world,
and cherishing and diffusing the great sentiment of human
brotherhood. On this ground its claims can be defended,
and it will stand ; and we can show that it possesses a pecu-
liar efficacy for the accomplishment of these results.

276 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

While giving his editorial pen mainly to the promo-
tion of brotherly love and relief, he sometimes placed
it at the service of other interests that enter into the
well-being of man. He enjoined all the virtues on the
brotherhood with a signal emphasis, while he pleaded for
temperance with a zeal only second to that with which
be advocated humanity. Occasionally he burst into
some poetic inspiration, and painted before his many
patrons some pleasing scene, as if he would enchant
their leisure hours. One of these dainty pictures he
wrought out as " Thoughts for the Summer-time," put-
ting the interest and skill of some great landscape
painter — a Turner or a Bierstadt — into the scope and
detail of his sketch. Eead amid the snows of Decem-
ber this prose idyl restores to the very feelings the air
and aspects of June.

" It has kept for after treats,
The essences of summer sweets."

But how liable is one's finest hope to be dashed with
disappointment ! Thus the mother who decorates her
baby for a show finds the whole effect spoiled by the
perverse behavior of the little one. An exquisite statue
is broken by being carelessly lifted to its place, and the
poor artist's heart is more marred than his marble. And
thus Chapin's delicately finished editorial, sent from his
hand as a gem to please by its lustre, was sadly damaged
in printing. In the next issue of the "Symbol" he
indulged in the following pleasant wail : —

Dear Reader, — We are not one of the best of penmen.
We write after the most approved fly-tracks that Ave know of,
but the printer cannot always decipher us, though he gen-
erally does better than we expect. In our leading article in

AN ODD-FELLOW. 277

the last number, however, we are called upon to pay a pen-
alty for our cramped penmanship, that we are not willing
to suffer without explaining to you. If you did us the honor
to read our " Thoughts for the Summer-time," in about the
seventh line of that article your eye caught these words, by
which we intended to carry out the simile of nature as a
temple: "Its "psaltery '\% the flushed and kindling clouds."
If you noticed this, no doubt you were somewhat puzzled
to know what kind of cloud music this might be. But we
did not so Avrite. For the word psaltery substitute the word
upholstery, and we flatter ourselves that our idea will seem
clearer. In the thirteenth line, too, instead of " wave of the
dewy grass," we Avrote odor or fragrance ; we confess we do
not exactly know which, but it was something of the kind.
A little further along we spoke of the ocean that " unrolls
its mottled splendor before us." Alas ! it was printed wreathed
splendor. And in the very same line, when we were endeavor-
ing to describe as well as we could the Summer heaven, by
speaking of its " serene and starry aspects," our picture was
overclouded by the printer, who made it "serene and stormy
aspects." On the next page, the fourth line from the top, we
wrote that every sinew of nature " is strained and busy ; " but
the whole anatomy of the figure has been changed, and it reads
" strained and hony^^ and goes on to speak of " every ele-
ment in the sprigs of the mountain," when we meant the fly-
tracks to say sjyrings. In the fifteenth line from the top, for
preferable read palpable, and we shall be better suited.
So shall we be if, in the eighth line from the bottom of that
page, for the word divinity you substitute the word which we
wrote, charity ; we certainly have a right to ask for charity
here. We will not decipher further now.

If there is any truth in tlie oft-repeated conceit that
a bad penmanship and genius go together, the former

278 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

being the sign of the latter, then is Chapili's title to a
high rank among the gifted well established. Simply-
fearful was the responsibility of a proof-reader who, as
in the above case, ventured to take his " most approved
fly-tracks " and carry them without help of their
author to the printed page. In 1842, two years prior
to the date of " Thoughts on the Summer-time," he
gave an oration before the Odd-Fellows of New York,
in the Broadway Tabernacle. The electrified brother-
hood, as with one voice, pleaded for it in print. The re-
sult was a pamphlet " entered according to the Act of
Congress;" but on the margins of the pages of a copy
sent by Chapin to an editorial friend, he entered thirty-
eight publisher's mistakes, ranging all the way from the
very serious to the extremely amusing. In a moment of
sport he remarked to a brother Odd-Fellow that the
Order had poured over him its applause and slung at
him its types. He was keenly sensitive to a misprint,
and yet no one was oftener the victim of maltreatment
in this particular.

The hour in which he delivered this Tabernacle Ora-
tion was one of the great hours of his life, both in the
inspiration and eloquence that filled it, and in its sequel.
Drawing to him the attention and admiration of leading
■men in that eloquence-loving city, and especially among
the Universalists, it at once set New York into a sharp
rivalry with Charlestown, and later with Boston, for
the privilege of listening every Sunday to the might
and magic of his pulpit oratory.

" By the way he said Brethren, as he came before
the vast assemblage of strangers," observes one who
heard him, " he captured every heart, and the storm of

AN ODD-FELLOW. 279

applause burst before lie went any further." The en-
tire introduction is as fine in spirit as felicitous in rhet-
oric, and will be ever read with a pleasure second only
to that produced by Hstening to it.

Brethren, — I am happy to greet you upon this anniver-
sary, happy to meet you surrounded by your insignia of
Friendship, Love, and Truth — emblems of great and beau-
tiful ideas that hover in the van of the race, ideas that live in
the proudest chiselHngs of the sculptor and breathe in the
deepest thoughts of the poet, and yet find a home by every
fireside, a shrine in every beating heart. You have come up
here to-night, and sweet music wafts its melody around you.
But it has no martial strength, it bears no stormy memo-
ries of conflict. It speaks of kind words and gentle offices,
and thrills us with a loftier sentiment. From yon rustling
banner-folds great truths shed down their light upon us ;
but they reveal no dogmas of sect, no hackneyed maxims of
party ; they are watchwords of humanity, written on the
brow of every man. Here is assembled a vast, dense multi-
tude, like those throngs that of old waited upon some mighty
spectacle or purple victory. But no motive like this has
summoned us. In all this array and circumstance we answer
not to the Past, but to the Idea of this Present Age. There-
fore, again do I greet you. And this allusion to the Idea of
the Present Age may lead to some considerations that will be
found appropriate for us at this time.

He discussed the topic, the Present Age an Age of
Amelioration, and drew vivid and hopeful pictures of
Love moving abroad among men on her mission of re-
form and comfort. In art, in literature, in the laws, in
asylums, in fraternal organizations for social and chari-
table ends, he saw this queen of a better age gaining place

280 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

and power, and hailed her coming as one who had given
her his whole heart. In his notice of this discourse
Eev. Thomas Wliittemore said : " It is full of printers'
blunders, but every sentence sparkles with gems."

Not less signal was Chapin's oratorical triumph
among the Odd-Fellows in Boston. On the 19th of
June, 1845, the Order from all the regions round came
up to the ancient city to hold a high festival in
commemoration of the revival of the Order in Massa-
chusetts. The morning hours of the memorable day
were given to exercises in Faneuil Hall, the most
notable part of which was a lengthy and able oration
by James L. Eidgely, Corresponding Secretary of the
Grand Lodge of the United States. About noon, eight
thousand men, wearing the insignia of the Order, fell
into the procession, which marched through prominent
streets to the music, made in fitting alternation, by
twenty-four brass bands, — the line of march ending at
the grand pavilion erected for their accommodation.
Plates were set for seven thousand men. At the close
of the banquet Chapin spoke eloquently to the senti-
ment : " The Grand Lodge of Massachusetts — behold
her resurrection ! " But the climax of his oratory was
reserved for the evening gathering in Faneuil Hall,
where were assembled many of the patriarchs and offi-
cers of the order, with a brilliant and happy concourse
of men and women. The best portrayal of the scene
is in the words of one who saw it, and is here
given : —

Old Faneuil Hall in flowers ! The dingy pillars were
wreathed with garlands of roses and evergreen, and its lieavy
Doric capitals bore on their plain mossy brows unwonted

AN ODD-FELLOW. 281

clusters of Flora's loveliest gifts. The beautiful parasites
clung in fragrant arches about the ancient windows, and de-
pended in graceful festoons from the time-stained walls. How
brilliant the lights ! how inspiring the music ! . The banners
of the Order glistened as they waved from the front galleries,
or hung in beautiful relief against a back-ground of green
leaves and tinted flowers. How delicious the atmosphere, as
if the clear west wind had brought its fragrant burthen into
the midst of our close and sultry habitations ! . . . And
eloquence had found its inspiration. Chapin, ever fervid and
felicitous, moved every soul, prepared as all were to respond
with deep feeling to his impassioned appeals. Skilfully, as
a true master of oratory, did he use the many and varied
influences which the place and the occasion afi'orded, invok-
ing the spirits of the mighty dead to quicken the afliections of
the living. Patriotism and philanthropy were the great
themes of which he spoke, and in their advocacy he en-
tranced his hearers Avith the glowing spirit and graceful
charms of his oratory.

Before the Odd-Fellows of Maryland, assembled at
Baltimore, he gave one of his best orations, on the Prac-
tical Eecognition of Human Brotherhood the Great Want
of Society. It was his old and favorite theme, and
never did he throw into it more compactness of thought,
more of the fire of deep feeling, the rich fertility of
imagination, or the overpowering vehemence of delivery.
But of this effort Chapin was always pleased to say ;
" I failed to keep my level, commencing on a lofty plane
and concluding on a lowly." The discourse was pro-
nounced in Howard's Grove, near the city, a very ele-
vated platform having been provided for the orator and
the officers. In front of the platform, but in immediate
contact with it, a reading-desk had been mounted on

282 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

separate standards to bear up the speaker's manuscript.
" After Mr. Chapin had become pretty well warmed np
with his subject," writes Eev. James Shriglej, then a
resident of Baltimore, " the front part of the platform
gave way and left the orator clinging to his desk, his
feet dangling in the air. On being relieved from this
unpleasant predicament, he mounted a box some
three feet high and proceeded with his discourse, with
manuscript in hand. But seeing the people resting
their eyes on the high desk, which looked much like a
gallows, he cried out in his ringing voice : ' Mind not
high things, but condescend to men of low estate ! ' "
His happy turn of the calamity was taken as a pleasant
part of the occasion, and holds a place in memory with
his eloquent plea for a more practical recognition of
human brotherhood.

A more formal statement of the history of Chapin's
connection with the Odd-Fellows, and of the esteem in
which he was held by them, will be found in the follow-
ing quotation from the Proceedings of the Grand Lodge
of Massachusetts for the year 1881 : —

From the records of Friendship Lodge, No. 10, of the city
of Richmond, we learn that E. H. Chapin was admitted a
member of that lodge December 31, 1838. His card of clear-
ance from Friendship Lodge bears the date of January 4, 1842.
This he deposited in Bunker Hill Lodge, No. 14, Charlestown,
Mass., and was admitted a member. In August, 1843, he
was elected Grand ^Master of the Grand Lodge of the State of
Massachusetts, a position which he filled with credit to himself
and honor to the Fraternity. In August, 1844, he was elected
Grand Representative to the Grand Lodge of the United
States for that year. In this position he gave evidence of his

AN ODD-FELLOW. 283

wonderful gifts and accomplishments, which he did not hes-
itate to use for the advancement of Odd-Fellowship. He Avas
appointed chairman of the committee to revise the work of
the Order, and much of the beautiful language contained in
the several degrees, before the last revision, is attributed to his
gifted pen.

"The Eemombrance Degree," another writes, "was made
up partly of the old matter, and the manuscripts submitted
by Chapin, the eloquent opening lecture of tlie Noble Grand
being his production. Then taking up the Scarlet Degree,
recourse was again had to the beautiful conceptions of moral
duty embodied in the manuscripts of Chapin, from which
were selected the opening charge of the Vice-Grand, and also
the first paragraph of the lecture of the Noble Grand."

The great field of labor which now opened before him in
other directions evidently demanded all his time and attention,
for we do not again find him actively engaged in the work of
the Order. But we recall with pride and gratitude that, in
the early days of the revival of Odd-Fellowship, he was able
to give to our beloved institution the weight of his great name
and character, the aid of his unequalled eloquence, the support
of his clear judgment and eminent learning.

The entire Order was stimulated by his enthusiasm, and
became instructed in its principles and teaets as by his voice
and pen they were displayed and elucidated. His words and
wisdom will continue to greet the accession of every new
brother, and will fall with never-tiring repetition upon the ear
of the whole Fraternity.

We join with all our hearts, and with a fraternal satisfac-
tion, in the praises widely bestowed upon our departed brother.
While we rejoice that for a time, in no limited measure, his
great gifts were lent to us, we do not fail to recognize that his
commanding spirit found in many ways fullest employment
in the service of God and humanity. As a Christian min-

284 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

ister he was so high in position, so eloquent in discourse, so
catholic in method, that lie seemed lifted above all denom-
inational limitation. As a platform instructor, always engaged
upon lofty themes, he so tasked his energies to respond to
continual demand, that it might almost be said that the whole
country had at some time been his auditor.

Desiring to place on record our appreciation of his worth
and character, we would offer the following resolutions : —

Resolved, That as members of this E. W. Grand Lodge, as
citizens of this Commonwealth and of our common country,
we realize the great loss sustained in the death of Edwin H.
Chapin, P. G. Master.

A feeling of sadness pervades us when we contemplate that
we are no more to be instructed and uplifted by the magnetic
power of his living Avords ; that the sympathetic heart, which
for upwards of threescore years was continually pulsating,
and by voice and pen exerting a powerful influence for every
true reform, has ceased to beat. But in the abundant fruits
of his labor we find the results of his having carried into
practice the noble principles which in his earlier days he had
done so much to engraft upon the flourishing tree of Amer-
ican Odd-Fellowship.

XVIII.

A EEFORMER.

Dk. Chapin might be hot or cold, but he could not
be lukewarm, and when at length he came from the Con-
servative South to the Eadical North, and was touched
by the genius and aim of a more progressive type of
society, he at once took the side of the reforms : and,
blending a rare zeal and an overwhelming eloquence,
he was hailed far and wide as the master of the plat-
forms. Dignified as a Father Mathew, loving the
right with all the zest of a Garrison or Parker, — if
not hating the wrong so severely, — holding in com-
mand the wit and pathos of a Gough, he also shared,
what these did not, the most intense ardor, and the
golden tongue of the great orator. No one of all the
reform speakers could so successfully conquer apathy,
and sweep his audiences into a tumult of enthusiasm
as soldiers in the army of reform. Garrison and Parker
may have been more convincing, but they were less
moving, and often they set enmity into a defiant tem-
per by their asperity, while he conquered hatred by
love. He seldom drew from the vocabulary of invec-
tive, and ever spoke more in sorrow than anger of
wrong-doers. If he was less dramatic than Gough, he
was greatly his superior as a master of the conscience

286 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

and heart. John Pierpont was more poetic and caustic,
but not so broad in spirit nor so mighty in word.
Horace Mann was his peer in kindness and catholicity,
but took no rank with him as an orator.

It is not difficult to trace the sources of Chapin's
devotion to the reforms. He was a man of large heart,
and felt a keen sympathy with every condition of man-
kind. He also shared no ordinary vision of good and
evil, virtue and vice, holiness and sin, and of the expe-
riences of such as are living in one or the other of these
states, since his was the graphic and strong vision of the
moral genius. As Angelo saw no ordinary scenes invit-
ing his brush and chisel, because he looked out from no
common depth and power of feeling, as Milton saw
" with larger, other eyes than ours," because of his vast
poetic sensibilities, so the fervid soul of Chapin beheld
the varied lot of man in the strongest lights, and he was
greatly moved by his conceptions. His were no half-
views of the conditions of society, such as the sluggish
nature shares, but he saw the living scenes in all their
vividness. He missed none of the lights and shades
which rest on the landscape of life. With a glad eye
he noted the fine-cut features, the open brow, the manly
bearing, the look of honesty, sobriety, and peace ; and
with the most acute pain he beheld, to quote his own
words, " dark minds from which God is obscured ; de-
luded souls, whose fetish is the dice-box or the bottle ;
apathetic spirits, steex^ed in sensual abomination, un-
moved by a moral ripple, soaking in the slums of animal
vitality." And seeing thus, with no dull eye, the beauty
of the true life, and the darkness and deformity of sin,
he was moved by the intensity of his vision to be an
ardent reformer.

A REFORMER. 287

He was also cheered in this work by his faith in hu-
man nature. In man's lowest estate he saw something
hopeful, — a spark of divinity there covered but not
quenched, an image of God, marred and defaced but
not wholly obliterated, and capable of being restored to
its primal beauty, or even of being exalted into the
more positive aspects of the divine, as the restored por-
trait of some ideal saint may still be improved by a finer
art. The undying germ, in man, of the true life, escaped
not his searching and sympathetic eye. " The human
soul is a great deep," he affirmed, " and we must take
into view the nebulous possibilities that are brooding
and waiting there, and notice the films of light that
reveal themselves even in the darkest spaces. . . . That
son of infamy is still a man, though his manhood is
crushed and disfigured; he is still the offspring of G-od,
not unwatched by him, not outside the circle of his
help. Why, then, should you and I cast him off and
stand aloof? . . . Who says any man is hopeless, utterly
degraded, fit only to be destroyed ? He falters from the
confidence of Christ. . . . The mystery of this soul en-
shrined in flesh, even though it be sinful flesh, is that
there is in it that which enables it to claim kinship with
God." He discovered a moral sense in the most de-
praved, a capacity of hope and aspiration in every child
of God, a power to rise in those who have sunk the
lowest ; and, holding such a view of human nature, he
approached it with reverence and confidence, and pleaded
with it tenderly and earnestly to turn from sinful paths
and walk in the ways of honor and gladness.

His zeal as a reformer was, moreover, a natural out-
growth from his creed, as the oak from the acorn, or

288 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the eagle from the royal egg. Between his head and
his heart there was the most intimate friendship, and
his ideas passed by a short and rapid current into
speech and act. Hence his doctrines of the universal
fatherhood of God, the common brotherhood of man,
and a common salvation for all through renunciation of
sin and turning to righteousness, inspired him with the
broadest sympathies and a holy enthusiasm to aid in
working out the great issue. Of these convictions he
felt the full force, and could not rest from the toils they
imposed. Fraternity was his great watchword, and
fellow-helpfulness the strong impulse of his heart ; and
for years, while in full health and strength, it was his
meat and drink to do service for erring and sinful man,
— in pointing out to him the better way, painting before
him the beauty and gladness of virtue, and inciting him
to rise, like the Prodigal in the parable, and turn from
the dreary wilderness to the Paradise whose gates are
ever open to the penitent.

It was on the basis of this all-inclusive premise of
reform found in his creed, that the scope and diversity
of his words and toils on behalf of his kind may be
accounted for. He confessed his kinship with the
race of man, and fell into no narrow channel of sym-
pathy and work. He did not love a drunkard and
hate a bigot, nor strive to save man from the hardships
of his lot and leave woman to be the victim of injustice
and cruelty. Prom his lips fell the most impassioned
arguments in favor of peace among the nations of the
earth, liberty for every citizen of the state, temperance
in every life, equality of rights in man and woman,
toleration of every form of faith and doubt, and broth-

A REFORMER. 289

erhood in all the walks of society, instead of caste and
hostility. For justice toward all and malice toward
none, for right against might, for the suppression of
every wrong and the triumph of every form of good,
he pleaded with all the fervor and force he was able to
put into words ; and among the possibilities of literature
is a compendium of arguments for all the reforms
drawn from his sermons and speeches.

But he saw no redemption for man save in the name
and spirit of Christianity. In superficial reformatory
devices and fanatical panaceas he had no faith, but in
the simple motives and sanctions which Christ awakens
he believed with all his heart. He placed great re-
liance on spiritual covenants, but not so much on formal
ones ; and hence he was no disciple of Fourier, no
advocate of the phalanx or community as a means of
redeeming man. He agreed with Emerson, who, criticis-
ing the defect of the Brook Farm scheme, said : " Spoons
and skimmers you can lay undistinguishably together,
but vases and statues require each a pedestal for itself."
Into a personal relation with God and Christ and virtue
he would bring the soul, as its true condition and the
secret of its strength and safety. While he worked
with some of the more general reform organizations, he
still made organization subordinate to moral and re-
ligious appeals. " It is too late," he said, " for reform-
ers to sneer at Christianity ; it is foolishness for them
to reject it. In it is enshrined our faith in human pro-
gress, our confidence in reform. ... If any one
maintains reform as a substitute for Christianity, he
attributes to the stream the virtues of the fountain ; he
ascribes to the arteries the central function of the heart.

19

290 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

For from Christianity beats the great pulse of the
world's hope. ... A man that has the spirit of
Christ in him has the sprmg and energy of all positive
power. . . . That life of Christ ! It has achieved
unspeakable victories — victories which mailed hand
and armed host never could have accomplished. It
overturned the marble gods of Greece ; it plucked do-
minion from the throne of the Csesars ; it tamed the rude
barbarian as he stood exulting amid the ruins of an-
cient civilization ; it carried its meliorating power into
the very heart of the Middle Ages ; it spoke in the grand
doctrines of the Eeformation ; it came with the Pil-
grims through the stormy ocean of December ; it is in
the van, far in the van, of the noblest efforts and the
best hopes of the present age. . . . Eeligious prin-
ciple operating through individual hearts — this is the
great want of the age."

He was in the fullest sense of the term a Christian
reformer, with one hand clinging to God and Christ,
and with the other reaching forth to rescue the sin-
tossed from the wild and fatal waters. Standing on
the firm shore of the divine, he sought to draw thither
the morally w^recked and drowning ones for safety and
peace. In kindling the sacred instincts and aspirations
he placed his main trust. As the best means of saving
the erring he sought to make them see and feel their
rank and privilege as children of God and heirs of im-
mortality, and to look ever up to the perfect ideals.

In the temperance reform he had a deeper and more
active interest than in any other ; but while he was the
orator of the organizations he was not a member of
them. He advocated the pledge as a help to the weak.

A REFORMER. 291

" For multitudes," lie said, " the simple fact of signature,
the tremulous writing of a name, the making of a mark,
has had a binding sanction, that no silent resolution
and no verbal declaration could have secured." He also
looked with favor on the law as a possible help in this
work of reform. It might be made to check the sale of
intoxicants, and thus limit temptations along the path
of the weak. Like many others he had a hope in pro-
hibition, which has not yet been realized in experience.
He often repeated a little story, at one period of his life,
to illustrate the power of the law. There was a wager
between two New Orleans men that one of them could
not stand for ten minutes the bites of the mosquitoes
on his naked shoulders. When the long and trying
moments were nearly at their end and the bet likely to
be won, some one behind the foolish hero touched his
exposed flesh with the lighted end of a cigar, which
sent him away with a leap and the exclamation : " I
can stand the mosquitoes, but a gallinipper is too much
for me 1 " The gallinipper being a larger mosquito,
with a much sharper bite, was too pungent an opposer
for his purpose to withstand ; and thus did the great
orator seek to show the advantage the law might have
over moral suasion in breaking down the persistence of
the liquor-dealer. Withstanding the assault of words,
he might quail before the sheriff's warrant.

But far above pledge and law did Chapin place moral
appeals and Christian sympathies as the best aids in
bringing man to a true character and an ideal behavior.
Ever inspired and guided by principle himself, he felt it
was the basis of all right life. To it he looked in hope,
and with it he wrought in faith.

XIX.

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES.

That Dr. Chapin had a broad and strong love of man
must be evident to all who have read of him as an Odd-
Eellow and a Keformer. We saw him borne into those
relations by the humane impulse of his heart ; and if in
later years he ceased to be the former, and was the lat-
ter only in a degree, it was not that love had become a
faded and withered plant in his heart, but solely on the
ground that his energies were taxed to their utmost,
even bsyond the limit of safety, in other offices of love.
His position as a preacher had assumed a signal pres-
tige, and he keenly felt the privilege and responsibility
of his sermons as avenues of blessing to his fellow-
beings ; and along them he poured, in ample volume,
the warm stream of his sympathy in the various forms
of instruction, reproof, incitement, spiritual quickening,
and solace. In his weekly congregations, gathered from
all parts of the land and from all lands, and crowding
pews and aisles and pulpit stairs, his heart found a rare
province for toil. In noticing a volume of his sermons,
the editor of the " Christian Register " said : " If we were
to describe the distinctive peculiarities of Mr. Chapin's
preaching, we should say it is affectionate and humane.
It breathes throughout a generous, hopeful, and frater-

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 293

nal spirit." Wlienever his theme led him, as it often
did, to speak of the common brotherhood of man, his
hearers were sure to be stirred by his most impassioned
eloquence.

" I am a man," said the Roman poet, " and nothing
pertaining to humanity is foreign to me ; " and such
was the breadth of Chapin's sympathy, as seen in ser-
mon and prayer and lecture and essay.

His genuine kindhness is betrayed in the fact that
he saw the good and not the evil in man, as a rule. He
was no cynic. He never looked through a blue glass at
the people. He never sneered like a Voltaire, nor
scorned like a Byron, nor chafed with contempt like a
Carlyle, nor even fell into a momentary fit of suspicion
like Mr. Emerson, who said the reformers are seeking
to save those who are not worth saving. On the con-
trary, he was always in a good humor toward the race.
In man he saw something great, and he honored and
loved him as a child of God, and threw over him the
rosy arch of hope. " The old cynic took a light to find
a man ; but we find men everywhere," said Chapin, " in
the poorest home and in the darkest lane. Beneath the
coarsest vestment there throbs a human heart, upon
the most degraded brow a mother's hand of love has
been laid, and through the dimmest eyes there shines a
quenchless soul." No bitter word ever slipped from
his rapid pen, or fell from his swift tongue. " For thirty
years I have heard him preach," says Mr. Fellows, " but
I never heard him say a word against anybody. He
criticised institutions and reproved sins, but was gener-
ous toward men." It is the testimony of one of his
most intimate friends, Charles A. Ropes, that " he never

, 294 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

spoke ill of any one." It is douLtfiil if lie were capable
of entertaining unkind thoughts of any one in his sin-
gularly tolerant and generous mind.

While referring the reader who would study the
wider scope of Chapin's humanity to other chapters of
this book, it is proposed here to call attention to some
of the tender trifles to which this strong man stooped,
and in which, as the sky is mirrored in a drop of dew,
the greatness of his heart is reflected. He needs no
rosary, the thread of whose life is thus strung with the
small beads of love, as he moves along in the obscure
walks. In this more private record may be reflected the
prime credit of the soul. Here is best seen, it may be,
the actual spirit of the man. As the blazing meteor
passes into a cold and dark stone as it leaves its con-
spicuous place in the sky and falls on the earth, so many
a luminous spirit before the public darkens and chills
as it enters the private walks. Only when lifted up
should they be looked at. But it is not so with Dr.
Chapin ; but, rather, there is a finer spirit and beauty
of love to be seen in this man's life as we follow him
in the hidden byways of his pilgrimage.

In the -early days of his ministry he chanced to
meet with a worthy young man in whose soul was
sounding a call to the ministry, and learning that
his means were sadly unequal to his ambition and
promise of usefulness, he took him to his home and
gave him bed and board and encouragement and in-
struction for some months as a gratuity. At every
suggestion of payment he closed the young man's
moutli, and bade him share in peace of mind the prof-
fered hospitality and help. He had once been poor

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 295

himself, and knew what it was to stand gazmg up the
mountain of education without money to purchase an
ascent, and had hastened to his profession without much
help from tlie schools, as a necessity of his lot in life.
And hence his heart was made happy by thus aiding
Eev. J. H. Farnsworth over an interposing barrier into
the ministry he has honored for many years, and still
loves and serves.

Carefully folded and preserved m his pocket, he car-
ried for several years a little flower which a child had
sent him. To his fond eye the withered leaf was beau-
tiful and the folded bloom was precious. He who
yearned toward the waiting crowd, and bore humanity
up in his daily prayers for God's blessing, paused m his
grand career to throw his arms around a little child and
cherish a rose it had plucked for him.

Another keepsake of his was so humble a piece of
mechanism as a bootjack, over which a poor mechanic
had spent affectionate and grateful hours to serve and
please his pastor. At length its maker was brought to
the Chapin Home in poverty, to spend the rest of his
days amid the aged ones there cared for. " In his final
sickness," writes Mrs. Wallace, then matron of the in-
stitution, " Chapin often visited him, and, coming a
day or two before he died, read to him from the Bible
and prayed with him ; and, on bidding him good-by,
said : ' Brother Inglee, I have something to remind me
of you, — a bootjack you made for me many years ago,
which I shall prize more highly than ever when you
are absent from us.' ' Have you got that yet ? ' said the
old gentleman with a glad expression in his eyes. That
night I watched with him, and many times did he speak

296 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

of it, — so many times, I at last asked him to tell me all
about it. ' Well,' said the old man, ' I got just as nice
a piece of mahogany as I could find and made that
thing, and put two rows of brass nails on the edge. It
was handsome. I took it to him one New Year's day.
He seemed pleased, but did not say much. I have often
wondered if he used it. But he has; and to think that
he should speak of it now ! ' Afterward I spoke to Dr.
Chapin about it, saying : ' Your prayer and visit were a
great comfort to Brother Inglee, but the mentioning of
that bootjack did him more good than either.' "

Another touching little picture Mrs. Wallace has
painted in which the warm tint of love is conspic-
uous. " There was at the Chapin Home," she writes,
" an aged and poor Scotch lady, a member of the
Doctor's church, and made comfortable by it during
her last days. Mrs. Chapin and I had watched with
her, and, seeing the end was near, Mrs. Chapin said :
' I will go home and notify the Doctor before he leaves
on his lecturing tour, for I do not thhik she will last
during the day.' He came, prayed with her, and, bid-
ding her good-by, said comforting words to her, mean-
while laying his hand gently on her head. Almost
her last words were these : ' His voice was sae sweet,
his prayer sae comforting, but aye, that hand on my
head ! ' The daughter of this old lady, a school-teacher,
and the mainstay of her mother, had died a year pre-
vious. She was sick a long time. Dr. Chapin was very
attentive to her. She often spoke of his visits and of
his kindness to her. I well remember his offering my
husband money to supply her wants, and asking him to
get her a rocking-chair, as she was sitting up in a hard.

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 297

low-backed chair." " It was to the poor, the sick, and
the dying," Mrs. Wallace adds, "that ]\Ir. Chapin showed
a tenderness and sympathy of the rarest type." Jt is
also the testimony of Mrs. Jameson, one of his most
intimate friends, at whose home it was his custom to
take his Monday lunch, that " the kindness of his heart
was seen in the time of trouble and sorrow, and for that
sympathy every one loved him. I never knew him to
neglect to visit any one when in trouble, and especially
the poor."

While making a brief European trip in 1872, one of
the members of his Sunday-school, Elsie M. Odell, had
fallen sick and died. Her funeral was attended by Eev.
Charles Fluhrer of the Universalist Church in Harlem.
On his return ]\Ir. Chapin, having learned before sailing
from the other shore of the Atlantic, or directly on land-
mg in New York, of the sorrow which had befallen one
of his families, ordered his carriage to be driven to the
home of the afflicted before permitting himself to be
taken to his own residence. It may well be doubted if
one preacher in many thousands would have been
thus overruled by his sympathy with sorrow, and been
borne from the welcome waiting him at his own door,
to mingle his prayers and tears with the sad ones in
whose house was a vacant chair. " It sho\AS the large,
tender-heartedness of the man," as Mr. Eluhrer truly
observes, "and that love was his only directing impulse
for the time being."

The sight of a stranger in humble circumstances and
in evident need was sure to arrest his attention and
enlist his sympathy, and he was often a prompt volun-
teer in the noble army of helpers. There appeared in

298 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

the "New York Tribune," soon after his kind heart had
ceased to beat, the following letter, which is an inter-
esting part of the general eulogy then pronounced on
him : —

To THE Editor of the Tribune : —

Sir, — I would like to lay a fragrant little flower upon the
grave of the great and good man who has gone out of the
Church of the Divine Paternity into the Church of the
Saints above. Men are known, not from their public utter-
ances, or their professional work of whatever kind, but from
their unstudied acts among those to whom they can never
look for favors, either of applause or advancement ; and it is
from a side view into the simpledieartedness of the man, un-
der circumstances Avhich left no doubt of utter spontaneity,
that I have been able for a long time to place an estimate
upon Dr. Chapin's character, which I could not otherwise
have obtained. I happened, some ten years ago, to be on a
Hudson River railroad train going to Albany. In ray car, a
few seats ahead of me, sat Dr. Chapin, buried in books and
newspapers, and apparently so absorbed as to be impervious to
ordinary sights and sounds. On the opposite side of the
car were two untravelled countrymen, who seemed, from their
fitful conversation, to be at a loss as to the station they should
stop at, and the means of reaching their destination. Their
remarks were not obtrusive, and they seemed to have a deli-
cacy about troubling any one with inquiries, and yet it was
easy to see that they were in a serious quandary. The ordi-
nary traveller, who prides himself on attending to his own
business and letting other people do the same, would find
this a good opportunity to put his maxim in practice. Not
so Dr. Chapin. He laid his books and papers quietly aside,
crossed the aisle and pleasantly accosted the countrymen.
After getting at their difficulty he explained to them in the

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 299

most clear and painstaking waj the course to pursue, leaving
notliing whatever to be inferred. He then went back to his
seat, and in a moment was buried in his reading, evidently
thinking nothing of what he had done, but feeling that sort
of relief wliich comes from knowing that some one else is
relieved. Had he but glanced at the faces of the men he
Avould have been amply repaid for his trouble, but this would
have been too much like exacting some return for a service
he could not help but render. Little did the countrymen
know who had so kindly served them, but I did, and it was
to me the best sermon I ever enjoyed from the great preacher
and greater man.

Amid another scene we witness his interest in the
lowly and the obscure. At the close of one of liis
lyceum lectures he met his old friend the Rev, Mr,
Grosh, in whose home and editorial office, many years
before, he spent happy days at Utica. " So eager was
he," writes Mr. Grosh, "to learn of his office-companions,
that he seemed quite indifferent to the distinguished
people around him, who were waiting for an introduc-
tion. His heart was lost in the recollection of the
humble friends of his early life."

As thi'ough a keyhole we can see the distant moun-
tain looming in its massive glory, so through a tender
word, a little favorite story, we may discover the great-
ness of a human heart. Unspeakable may be the credit
that lies behind a smile, or that is revealed in so trivial
an act as relating an incident. The glory of Abraham
Lincoln, made conspicuous in that high hour when he
enjoined love toward all and malice toward none, was
seen in a more distant view, but in no diminished lustre,
as he retold for the twentieth time some little anec-

300 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

dote in which a tender sentiment made the turning-
point, tlie golden hinge, to his loving eye. And thus
was the kindness of Chapin's heart seen in favorite
stories as in a mirror. Of these a single one, reported
by Mrs. Jameson as having been often repeated at her
lunch-table, will serve as a sample. A rich man and
his son met a poor German and his dog. The rich
man's son took a fancy to the poor man's dog, and
asked his father to buy it for him. The father's reply,
that it was only a cur and not worth the having, did
not check the lad's importunity ; and the man turned
, to the poor German and asked him for what money he
would sell his dog, and got the touching reply : " It is,
sir, only one cheap dog, worth no money, but you could
not buy it ; for the wag of that dog's tail when I come
home I would not sell for all your money." The ten-
derness of the little story made it very pleasing to the
heart of Mr. Chapin, and by each repetition of it he
revealed his sympathy with the poor man in his love
for his homely cur.

With all this love in his soul, running broadly lilce a
river in his regular work, and rippling like musical
brooks in his private hours, he still wore the seeming of
coldness sometimes toward those he met, — holding his
lips sealed when words were looked for, moving bruskly
away when it was expected he would linger, and va-
riously running counter to the usages which an ideal
courtesy demands. At times his social habit seemed to
do violence to the law of his life as it appeared in his
general thought and spirit, and in countless little ex-
hibitions of the chief grace. It was much as if the
sun should at times move before us like a darkened orb.

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 301

It is the testimony of one who knew and loved him
well, the Eev. Dr. Atwood of the Canton Theological
School, that "he was not a particularly approachable
man. He had his friends and favorites with whom he
was as cordial and companionable as a boy; but he
was not easy in general society, nor did he appear to
care to meet strangers or to make new acquaintances.
Many who admired and loved him from afar were baf-
fled in any attempt to cultivate familiarity."

How shall we account for his appearance thus in two
roles, — in one of which the heart gave the chief inspi-
ration, and in the other of which it failed to move him ?
How could he be at one hour so luminous with the light
of love, and at another hour so seemingly destitute of this
finer radiance ? Here is indeed a problem to be solved,
a paradox to be explained. It was said in the chapter
on Chapin at Charlestown, that a "tendency began
to make its appearance which proved at once a good
and an evil, a source of applause and of reproach, and
which, no doubt, led to the first break in his health.
It w-as a tendency to an undue absorption or engross-
ment in the theme that occupied him." Both temper-
ament and the demands laid upon him conspired to
draw him thus into moods of self-exaltation and almost
of morbid frenzy, in which the outside world fell from
his view, and he met friends and strangers, as if he
met them not, or, at least, gave them but a cold and
compelled notice. He had no ill-will toward them, but
was simply oblivious in their presence. He was in his
own world of thought and feeling, and was held there
by a law of engrossment, of whose sway the ordinary
temperament knows but little, and the man of few and

302 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

liglit tasks almost nothing. In these rapt hours he
seemed to lack the capacity to flee from himself, even
to heed so imperious a demand as that of social cour-
tesy, and friends and strangers alike shared the apparent
neglect. Says Professor Tweed, one of his best friends :
" I never suspected Chapin of losing his heart for me, but
I have met him many times when he made no show of
it." He was the victim of abstraction, the slave of his
reigning idea and impulse. " His head was so full of
what he was thinking about, that all else was crowded
out," is the statement of Mr. ]\Iarshall, for thirty years
one of his parishioners. On Sunday mornings the social
instinct and the gift of conversation seemed to forsake
him, and whoever met him before he ascended his pul-
pit was likely to have an interview which, though it
might not disturb one who knew him well, could
hardly fail to astonish and trouble a stranger. And
even after the service was closed by his benediction the
enchaining spell often rested on him, and he was not
easily got at for anything more than a shake of the
hand. Strangers often wondered at the impetuous haste
with which he left them as they lingered to greet him
and say some words of grateful praise ; even those who
had some claim to notice might not fare any better than
others in their efforts to gain it. He was still m the
midst of his mental and emotional maelstrom, and, if
not entirely oblivious of the laws of etiquette, his was
not that calm frame of mind that would permit him to
properly regard them. He was still swept on by an
unspent ardor that made an easy and deliberate conver-
sation quite impossible.

But on another ground we may account, in part, for

WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 303

Chapin's seeming recoil from friends and strangers, thus
disappointing their desire and expectation. What he
could not do with a heat and enthusiasm, he could not
do well or with pleasure, and shrunk from attempting
to do ; hence he was not himself and not happy in ordi-
nary conversation, and was indeed almost incapable of
it. It was hammering at cold iron, and he was consti-
tuted for w^orking metal only when it was raised to a
white heat. The process was too slow, the results too
trivial. Since he had not the patience for it, it was to
him i sort of martyrdom, and so he fled from it as the
warm-blooded animal flies from the chill of the northern
air. He was a poor conversationist, in the ordinary
sense of that word, and felt embarrassed when subjected
to the necessity of a commonplace colloquy ; and, with-
out meaning any disrespect to others, but unconsciously
following the bias of his spirit, he would often make an
ungraceful retreat from a desired interview. " Even in
our ministers' meetings," says Eev, Dr. Pullman, "we
had to start Chapin by some special impulse in order to
have his voice heard." "He needed one like himself to
converse with," says one who knew hmi well. By a
high theme or a happy story he could always be kindled
and drawn out, and rendered a marvel of brilliance and
gladness ; but for a chat about such trifles as make the
staple of ordinary conversation he was disqualified. He
seemed under some inborn necessity of being great and
conspicuous, or of being nothing and standing apart
from the gaze of watching eyes.

He was also smitten by the ancient and recent in-
firmity of bashfulness. There was a shyness in his
blood that led him to a desire to escape from the eyes

304 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

which were too closely fixed upon him. " Bashf ulness,"
said Aristotle, " is an ornament in youth, and a reproach
in old age;" but if this latter charge be true — which
may well be doubted — it is a reproach they cannot
escape whose ancestors have forced on them the shrink-
ing fibre. Nature is steadily perverse and refuses to
yield her whims even ; and so they who are born in
bashfulness will die in bashfulness. They can never
lay off the sensitive mantle in which fate has robed
them. And in Dr. Chapin we have only another in-
stance of genius loving best its own hidden sphere, or
its chosen work, with a familiar friend or two.

It is to be further said of his seeming lack of affabil-
ity toward strangers, that it may have grown into a
sort of habit in his later years, when his fame drew
toward him, in addition to the persons who miglit fitly
seek his presence, an army of curiosity-mongers, venti-
lators of vapid schemes, hunters of autographs, and
social imbeciles. "A tedious person," said Ben Jonson,
" is one a man would leap a steeple from ; " and not a
few of this sort turned their feet to Dr. Chapin's door,
or confronted him on the streets, and he was obliged to
practise a degree of social fencmg in justice to himself
and his great worlc.

But after the view we have had of Chapin's humanity,
— in its scope like the arch of the sky, and in its details
like the sweet flowers that spring up by hidden paths, — it
is hardly needful that we detain the reader with an ex-
planation of a seeming discrepancy in his life in this
particular. His general spirit and work of love — broad
as his life, at once the heart of his eloquence and the
inspiration of his toil, — is his sufficient defence, and the
brightest jewel in the crown of his fame.

XX.

HIS POETEY.

" Sad is his lot who, once at least in his life, has not
been a poet," says Lamartine ; and we must believe
there are few of the better order of minds that pass the
romantic age between childhood and maturity without
at some moment dallying with the muse. Many of
these only write clandestinely, and timidly and fondly
read the rhymes to which a mystic warmth in the
heart has given shape. It is likely that an equal num-
ber for once or twice aspire to that extent of publicity
afforded by a newspaper corner. With a small group
of the poetic band the sweet flame is less ephemeral ;
the eye continues longer "in a fine frenzy rolling,"
and more ambitious flights are ventured. But or-
dinarily the short-lived bloom of the tree in spring,
wdiich soon gives place to the soberer tasks of growing
leaves and fruit, is the symbol of the poetic outburst of
early life. But we may well rejoice, as Lamartine sug-
gests, that even for a day or an hour only the soul falls
in love with the Muse and essays the divine art of
poetry ; for never after will the fine sensibilities then
felt, the romantic tints then discovered in earth and
sky, the radiant hopes in mortal progress and immortal
glory then cherished, the sense of the divine then ex-

20

306 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

perienced, fade wholly away and leave life quite as
prosy as it would otherwise have been. If

" 'Tis better to have loved and lost,
Than never to have loved at all,"

— the experience remaining as an enchanting memory
and an unspent tenderness, — so there is a real blessing to
all after years, when toils and cares press on the hands
and the heart, from these youthful poetic visions and
raptures.

In the large group of those who have given some
hours in the morning of life to the making of poetry
stood Dr. Chapin ; and his success so far transcends the
ordinary achievements in this province that it merits a
passing consideration in this record of his life.

The celerity of his mind — seeing at a glance the rhym-
ing possibilities of the language, the words which mate
in a vocal harmony — and the musical sense of his ear
made him in early life a constant rhymster. He may
indeed have j)rattled in rhyme. At twelve years of age
he made rhythmic jingles for his amusement as a broker's
errand-boy, and read them to a comrade to divide with
him their charm of melody, which must have been
about their only charm ; and at fifteen he was poet to
the Siddonian Club. In his academy days higher
poetic gifts opened out, and for a few years he wrote
lyrics in which he gave signs of promise as a poet.

For the beautiful in nature and life he had a poet's
love. With a true poetical temperament he touched
the divme, and lingered fondly on the confines of
mystery. " If," as Goethe says, " it does not injure
the poet to be superstitious," he shared also a degree of
that merit. Like a poet he was tender, pathetic, un-

HIS POETRY. 307

passioned, and so blessed with ideality, fancy, imagina-
tion, the creative instincts, that he could glorify the
common, and turn every scene into romantic aspects.

But his defeat as a great poet, had he pursued the
high calling, would most likely have been brought
about by the ardor and haste of his impulses, which
would have refused to wait for a constructive or
Miltonic imagination, had he shared it, to work out its
vast and sublime pictures. He probably lacked the
patience and repose of the great poet, of whom Mr.
Emerson says : —

" God, who gave to liim the lyre,
Of all mortals the desire,
For all breathing men's behoof,
Straightly charged him, Sit aloof."

But Chapin could hardly have obeyed this divine com-
mand, to which all the great poets — from Plato in his
grove. Homer in his unknown nook, IMilton in his
blindness, Tennyson and Whittier and Longfellow in
tVieir solitudes — have been obedient. He was a life rush-
ing into passion and expression, and his vehemence
would have caused him to overleap that long interval
of brooding over his theme and the dawning of remoter
lights and grander visions, in which all great and en-
dearing poetry has been written. His genius was too
eager to permit him to be a master-builder with the im-
agination, and his pictures are flashes rather than
labored and overpowering creations of the poetic art.
Even a sustained allegory or colloquy in composition
would have been beyond his power, by reason of its
slowness of process. Hence his poetry, which is rich in
fancy, charming in iljs lyrical and musical qualities.

308 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

ideal in tenderness and pathos, pure and noble in. senti-
ment, — flies the deeper depths in which the famous
poets have found their power and from which they
command the mind and heart of the ages.

Chapin was a lover of a musical refrain or cadence
at the end of a stanza, and wrote several poems in this
style. Of this we have a sample in the following quo-
tation from a pleasing little poem given as a valedictory
at the close of his academic life at Bennmgton, which
was also at the close of a school term : —

Things of earth should ne'er enslave us, —

Earthly things are all but dross ;
But like Him who died to save us,

May we humbly bear the cross ;
Dear companions,

May we humbly bear the cross.

Then resisting each temptation,

Onward for the heavenly prize !
Oh ! secure the gi"eat salvation,

Seek a home beyond the skies ;
Dear companions,

Seek a home beyond the skies.

An obscure scene of suffering or sorrow, glorified by
some touch of beauty, by some triumph of love, or by
some great light of faith shining through it, was to him
a favorite theme around which to place a poetic wreath.
In his own experience he may have felt the truthfulness
of the wise saying of Donne : " He tames grief that
fetters it in verse ; " or with Tennyson he may have
found that

*' For the unquiet heart and brain

A use in measured language lies, —
The sad mechanic exercise
Like dull narcotics numbing pain."

HIS POETRY. 309

As by instinct he allied pathos with poetry ; and many
of his songs begin in the minor key, but sing themselves
into a major strain before they reach their close, the
muse seeming to serve him as a comforter. Of this
order is his poem entitled —

THE ITALIAN GIRL.

She lay by tli' open window. Calmly fell

The liist, faint shadow of the coming death

Upon her pallid countenance ; and passed,

Slowly and sadly, from her full, dark eye

The light of life and beauty. It was not

An unexpected messenger wdio breathed

A chill and blighting o'er her throbbing heart,

And called her spirit from commune with earth

To its far home of glory. She had known

Of its approach, and watched — nay, wished — the time

That brought its solemn coming ; and she bowed

In silent and in sweet humility,

When the strange thrill that shot across her frame

Told her that shadowy messenger was there.

Yes, she was ready. There was but one tie
That held her soul to earth, and that was twined
In the fond, bursting heart of one who stood
In agony beside her dying couch.
Shedding thick-falling tears upon her brow.
It was her mother ; but e'en this dear tie
Faith taught her how to sever, and blest Hope ;
Told her would reunite in j'onder heaven.

Her story was a simple one. She was
A flower of Italy, the soft, bright land
Of sunlight and of music. She had grown
In humble beauty 'neath a mother's care —
For years the sole light of that mother's home.
Retired, she lived thus, till she saw and loved
And wed a stranger from our western clime.

310 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

With him and that loved mother then she left
The scenes and shrines of childhood, for the land
Of him who won her love. A gale arose
Upon their voyage. The ship survived its j)ower ;
But ten, whose forms had glided o'er its deck,
Slept in an ocean sepulchre. And he
■ Among them ! He, her hope, her very heart,
Was swept beneath the billow and the storm !
They came here. With the little they had saved
From once-sufficient wealth, they bought a home —
A pleasant cottage home. There she, of whom
We tell this gentle story, day by day,
Was wasting with no visible disease,
But with a growing sickness of the heart ;
And though, at first, they fondly hoped again
To tread their birth-land, and to look upon
Its vineyards and its beauty, and that she
Might pass to rest beside tlie hallowed graves
Where slept her kindred — yet that happy dream
Soon faded, and she bowed herself to die
Calmly, as we have seen, with a blest faith
Bright'ning with every moment, and a hope
Fledging new pinions for her struggling soul.

And thus she lay till, startled by the tears
That on her forehead fell so fi-equently,
She raised her eyes with a sweet, patient smile,
And to her mother breathed these gentle strains :

" I am dying, dearest mother ; I am going to that land
Where our loved that went before me dwell, a blest and glorious

band.
Weep not, dear mother, but let faith still make thy spirit strong,
For in that clime of happiness we '11 meet again ere long.

" I know you'll want me, mother — your hearth will be so dim
When you see no more my cherished form — and you '11 miss my

evening hymn ;
And my voice no more will blend in prayer, nor breathe above my

lute ;
To you 'twill seem all pleasant tones of joy and hope are mute.

HIS POETRY. 311

" And oh ! I've yearned to look once more upon bright Italy,
Where the golden sunlight ever rests and the soft winds float so free ;
'Twould have been so grateful to have died among my native bowers,
And passed down gently to my grave, mid the music and the flowers.

" But I'm going to a brighter clime, a home that beams for me
With a light so pure that mortal eye may never hope to see, —
Where radiant streams roll fresh along, * fast by the throne of God,'
Mid harps and songs, an angel laud, by blessed spirits trod.

" Oh ! earth was dark and hopes were crushed, and my spirit's depths

were sad.
Till God lifted up his countenance, and all was light and glad ;
Then be thy heart not desolate ; on thy vision, pure and free.
His light, who lighteth all, will shine, — in Him thy trust shall be.

" Weep not, weep not, for time and death, they cannot long divide ;
Soon, dearest mother, thou wilt rest in the green grave by my side.
Let these parting words be sweet to thee as some bright seraph's

song :
Thou wilt follow me, dear mother — we shall meet again ere long ! "

It was at
The gorgeous time of sunset, and the hues
Of many glories lingered in the skies,
And filled the earth with beauty and with smiles.
Through the small lattice of a cottage-room,
The solemn sunbeams rested. Solemn ? Ay —
It was the room of death. There knelt and bowed
That mother by her dead Italian girl !

Go, search the scroll of history ; go, read

The cenotaphs that laud the mighty dead ;

Bring record of all proud triumphant deaths :

The warrior in the red fight cloven down,

'Mid helms and glaives and banners, and with smiles

Grasping his wreath of glory, — or the sage,

Unshrinking, cold, and passionless, enwrapt

Within his mantle, " sitting down to die " — •

Bring all of these and others' dying hours,

And show one trait so calm, so beautiful

With heaven's own beauty, as the Christian's death.

312 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

His poem on the Battle of Bennington, which he re-
cited with great effect, while yet in his youth, at a
celebration of that important event by citizens of the
region, is entitled to a high place as a battle-song. Its
spirit is truly patriotic, its movement lofty and heroic,
its historical references apt, and its grateful tribute to
the men who fought for the cause of liberty is as full of
feeling as it is of dignity. The following stanzas well
describe the humble aspects but heroic temper of the
ranks as they marched to the field, and the spirit of
their brave commander, and fairly represent the entire
composition: —

Theirs was no gorgeous panoply,

No sheen of silk or gold ^
No wrought device of battle blazed

Upon their standard-fold ;
But the free banner of their hills

Waved proudly through the sfonn,
And the soiled garb of husbandry

Was round each warrior-form.

They came nf>, at the battle sound,

To old Walloomsac'S height :
Behind them were their iields of toil,

With harvest-promise white , —
Before them, those who sought to wrest

Their hallowed birthright dear ;
While through their ranks went fearlessly

Their leader's words of cheer.

"My men ! — there stand our freedom's foes,

And shall they stand, or fall ?
Ye have your weapons in your hands,

Ye know your duty, all.
For me, this day we triumph o'er

Yon minions of the Crown,
Or Molly Stark a widow is

Ere yonder sun goes down ! "

HIS POETRY. 313

One thought of heaven, one thought of home,

One thouglit of hearth and shrine ;
Then, roek-like, stood they in their might

Before the glittering line.
A moment, and each keen eye paused,

The coming foe to mark, —
Then downward to its barrel glanced,

And strife was wild and dark.

But let the reader turn from this stately and solemn
war-song, to another which celebrates the final reign of
peace, and note the fitting jubilancy that enters into its
measure and spirit. Chapin's fine sensibility guided
him to a true poetic art. This poem is based on the
words of Isaiah : " And they shall beat their swords
into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks ;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither
shall they learn war any more ; " and one may almost
fancy that the great prophet himself would gladly have
heard this echo of his utterance !

There sweeps a rush of armies past with banners proud and high,
And clarions waft their thrilling strains triumphant to the sky :
No dread munition in their ranks, no fearful steel, they bear ;
No " warrior-garments rolled in blood," no panoply they wear ;
But on each brow the olive-wreath is twining fresh and gi-een,
And in each lifted eye the light of peace and joy is seen.

Gay barks, with music on their decks and pennons to the breeze,
And silks and gold and spices rare are out on foamy seas :
Safely their bright prows cleave the waves ; there is no foe to fear ;
No murderous sliot, no rude attack, no vengeful crew is near.
"Where battle strode o'er ruined heaps, and carnage shook its brand.
And red blood gushed, the purple grapes and clustering harvest stand ;
And dews from bending branches drip and quiver in the flowers,
And merry groujis are rushing out from cots and shady bovvers :
" There is no sword our hearths to stain, no flame our roofs to spoil ;
Tiiere are no robber-hordes to seize the treasures of our toil :

314 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

Ho ! sing ye, then, the harvest-song, and twist the viny leaves,
And let your shining sickles laugh among the plumy sheaves ; —
The falchions we '11 to ploughshares turn, the days of strife are o'er ;
The spears we '11 heat to pruning-hooks, there shall he war no more ! "

Nation with nation strives no more : the golden chain of love.

Through the wide earth, links soul to soul, descending from above ;

The Indian by his hundred streams, the Tartar in his snows,

The Ethiop 'neath the burning sun, its gentle impulse knows.

From every tribe, in kneeling ranks, upon the silent air.

Up to the Throne of Thrones, go forth the sacred words of prayer :

"All praise to Him whose hand alone, whose own right hand hath

done
This blessed work, and made the hearts of all his children one ! "
Then, like the strains Ephratah heard hymned by the angel choir,
From every lip a song breaks forth and sweeps o'er every lyre.
The peopled mart, the temple-arch sends out the jubilee ;
It echoes from the forest-shrines and green isles of the sea :
" Our falchions we '11 to ploughshares turn, — -the days of strife are o'er ;
Our spears we '11 beat to iJruning-hooks, — there shall be war no

more ! "

Dr. Chapin's muse did not desert liim even in the
earliest years of his ministry, and he wrote a few hymns
which will be likely to hold a permanent place among
the favorites for special occasions in Church work. It
was said by Wordsworth that " Poetry is most just to
its divine origin when it administers the comforts and
breathes the thoughts of religion," and it was Chapin's
special gift to make it the oracle of the soul. In spiri-
tual lyrics or hymnology he would have found his true
vein as a poet, and we may justly regret that he did not
add more hymns to the number he has left for the use
of the Church. In their elevation of tone and spirit, as
well as in their free and musical flow and their felicity
of rhymes, his hymns remind us of Moore, Bowring,
and Pierpont.

HIS POETRY. 315

ORDINATION".

Father ! at this altar bending,

Set our hearts from world-thoughts free ;
Prayer and praise their incense blending,

May our rites accepted be :
Father hear us,

Gently draw our souls to Thee.

Deign to smile upon this union

Of a pastor and a Hock ;
Sweet and blest be their communion :

May he sacred truths unlock, —
And this people

Plant their feet on Christ the Rock.

Be his life a living sermon,

Be his thoughts one ceaseless prayer
Like the dews that fell on Hermon,

Making gi-een the foliage there,
May his teachings

Drop on souls beneath his care.

Here may sin repent its straying,
Here may grief forget to weep ;

Here may hope, its light displajang,
And blest faith — their vigils keep,

And the dj'ing
Pass from hence in Christ to sleep.

When Ms heart shall cease its motion.
All its toils and conflicts o'er ;

When tliey for an unseen ocean,

One by one, shall leave the shore, —

Pastor, people, there, in heaven,
ISIay they meet to part no more.

316 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

FOR A CHAEITY MEETING.

When long the soul had slept in chains,

And man to man was stern and cold ;
"When love and worship were but strains

That swept the gifted chords of old, —
By shady mount and peaceful lake,

A meek and lowly stranger came ;
The weary drank the words he spake,

The poor and feeble blessed his name.

No shrine he reared in porch or grove,
No vested priests around him stood ;

He went about to teach, and prove
The lofty work of doing good.

Said he to those who with him trod :
" Would ye be my disciples ? Then

Evince your ardent love for God
By the kind deeds ye do for men."

He went where frenzy held its rule.

Where sickness breathed its spell of pain, ■
By famed Bethesda's mystic pool,

And by the daikened gate of Nain.
He soothed the mourner's troubled breast.

He raised the contrite sinner's head ;
And on the loved one's lowly rest

The light of better life he shed.

Father, the spirit Jesus knew,

We humbly ask of thee to-night.
That we may be disciples too

Of him whose way was love and light.
Bright be the places where we ti'ead

Amid earth's suffering and its poor,
Till we shall come where tears are shed

And broken sighs are heard no more.

HIS POETRY. 317

CHRISTMAS.

Hark ! hark ! with harps of gold,

What anthem do they sing —
The radiant clouds have backward rolled,

And angels smite the string.
" Glory to God ! " — bright wings

Spread glistening and afar,
And on the hallowed rapture rings

From circling star to star.

" Glory to God ! " repeat

The glad earth and the sea ;
And every wind and billow fleet
Bears on the jubilee.
Where Hebrew bard hath sung.
Or Hebrew seer hath trod.
Each holy spot has fouud a tongue :
"Let glory be to God."

Soft swells the music now

Along that shining choir.
And every seraph bends his brow

And breathes above his lyre

What words of heavenly birth

Thrill deep our hearts again.
And fall like dewdrops to the earth ?
" Peace and good- will to men ! "

Soft ! — yet the soul is bound

With rapture, like a chain ;
Earth, vocal, whispers them around.

And heaven repeats the strain.

Sound, harps, and hail the morn

With every golden string,
For unto us this day is born

A Saviour and a King !

318 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

DUKING OR AFTER A STORM.

Amid surrounding gloom and waste,

From Nature's face we flee ;
And in our fear and wonder haste,

0 Nature's Life, to thee !
Thy ways are in the mighty deep,

Thy tempests as they blow.
In floods that o'er our treasures sweep.

The lightning, and the snow.

Though earth upon its axis reels.

And heaven is veiled in wrath.
Not one of Nature's million wheels

Breaks its appointed path.
Fixed in thy grasp, the sources meet

Of beauty and of awe ;
In storm or calm all pulses beat

True to the central law.

Thou art that law, whose will — thus done

In seeming wreck and blight —
Sends the calm planet round the sun,

And j)ours the moon's soft light.
We ti'ust thy love ; thou best dost know

The universal peace, —
How long the stormy force should blow,

And when the flood should cease.

And though around our path some form

Of mystery ever lies,
And life is like the calm and storm

That checker earth and skies.
Through all its mingling joy and dread,

Permit us, Holy One,
By faith to see the golden thread

Of thy great purpose run.

HIS POETRY. 319

It is a current tradition that Dr. Chapin wrote this last
hymn during a thunder-storm. It has also been said
that he wrote it at sea, at the close of a tempest which
all on shipboard despaired of outriding. These render-
ings of history are impressive, but they are as untrue
as they are romantic. The real fact in the case is given
by Eev. John G. Adams : —

The hymu was written in my study at Maiden, where
most of the work of compiling our hymu book was done by
us. It was in July, in the afternoon of a very hot day. We
were Bearing the end of the afternoon's work, and were
about closing up our package of copy for the printer, when
in searching for a hymn to be placed in the miscellaneous
department, suitable to be sung during or after a destructive
storm, we could find none, in the many other books we had
used, which satisfied us. As I had written one hymn myself
expressly for the book, I now solicited Mr. Chapin to furnish
one in this emergency. I was not surprised that he objected,
considering the oppressive heat and his weariness ; but my
plea — and his willingness to do the best under the circum-
stances — prevailed ; and applying himself to the task, he soon
wrought out that admirable hymn.

XXL

HIS WIT.

A Chapter on Dr. Chapin's Wit revealed itself as a
necessity to his biography, but as a terror to his biog-
rapher. Like dropping a note from the musical scale
would be the omission from his life of this conspicuous
trait ; but wit is one of the dishes which must be
served hot or not at all, except at the risk of spoiling
the feast. As a note of the musical scale may be en-
chanting in the musical combination amid which the
composer has placed it, which would be quite ineffect-
ive as a separate tone, so wit must share the aid of
its accessories, or it will prove witless ; but the acces-
sories are often so subtle and evanescent, so impossible
of reproduction, that when the wit has been once
spoken it will thenceforth remain stale and insipid, like
champagne when the cork has been withdrawn. " Wit
is the god of the moment, but Wisdom is the god of
the ages," says Bruy^re. For its best effects it must
share the happy conditions of its origin ; but who is
able to reanimate with all its mercurial life a dead
scene? The age of miracles is past.

It has beeji the aim of the writer of these pages to per-
mit Dr. Chapin's pleasantries to fall into the composition
as they came to claim a place, hoping thus to secure

HIS WIT. 321

them a more fitting surrounding and to render less
needful a special attention to them, witli an attempt to
supply the accessories. It may be that enough has al-
ready been contributed from the store of his wit to in-
dicate its type, and to give it its due prominence ; for
this trait in his life, conspicuous as it was, was still but
incidental as compared with the more serious attributes
which have been treated. It was only as the blossom
on the tree, the ripple on the broad, deep river, the
meteor in the wide expanse of the sky.

In Dr. Chapin the distinction between wit and humor
is brought into full view. If humor is like the steady
twinkle of the star, and wit like the sudden flash of
the lightning, then Chapin was no humorist, but he was
a wit. He was ordinarily in a grave and thoughtful
mood, with at least the distant shadow of a cloud on
his face, but he was occasionally — and especially when
touched by the mercurial wand of a Starr King, a
Beecher, or a Barnum — raised to the highest pitch of
frolic ; and then, to quote Mr. Beecher's words, " his
wit flashed like the spokes of a wheel in the sun."

The primal law of his life — that whatever he did he
must do with all his might, and conspicuously — reap-
pears in his gift of jocularity, rendering quite impossible
a quiet humor stealing along amid the mental activities,
like a king's jester in a royal procession, but making
it signal for rare triumphs. By his intense tempera-
ment he was denied the privilege of blending the serious
and the sportive as do the less fervid ; but in this loss of
versatility there was the gain of point and power, wliich
is always the reward of concentration, or doing one thing

at a time.

21

322 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

The essence of every piece of wit is surprise, a light
not looked for, the disclosure of a lurking sense or un-
expected association, the showing of odd resemblances
in things unlike, or strange contrasts in things similar ;
and nothing of this sort, when Dr. Chapin was in a
merry mood, was missed by his swift eye. Since wit is
of the nature of a surprise, a flash, the instant arrest of
the mind from its foreseen path and diversion to an
unlooked for and eccentric association of ideas, the
celerity of his mental processes made him master of the
amusing art. Quick as lightning was his detection and
delivery of a piece of wit. Thus in the midst of an
outdoor speech at College Hill, as the cars on the Lowell
Railroad went thundering by only a few rods from him,
and confused alike speaker and hearer, he instantly ob-
served : " It is difficult to conduct a train of cars and a
train of remarks at the same time. It is a train of cir-
cumstances unfavorable to a train of thought."

As he was one day limping along by the aid of a
cane, and suffering a twinge at every step from a rheu-
matic foot, he was met by one who sought to engage
him in a religious conversation, and led off by asking
him if Universalists did not believe that people got
their punishment as they went along. " Yes, that's my
case exactly," • said he, and hobbled aw\ay, leaving the
inquirer to ponder on the wisdom of the reply.

At a Sunday-school meeting, in which Eev. Dr. Pull-
man gave an account of a new enterprise among his
teachers, — namely, the sending of a committee to visit
the " flats " in the neighborhood and invite the children
not going to any other school to attend theirs, — Dr. Cha-
pin rose and said : " I like the new enterprise very

HIS WIT. 323

much ; but I wish that Brother Pulhnan and his teachers
would now choose a committee to visit the sharjjs in
their vicinity and get them to come to church."

Some urgent matter connected with his church led
the trustees to hold a meeting on Sunday, just before
the evening service. Their session held them beyond
the proper time, and they crept slily into their pews
as the congregation was standing and singing the hymn
after the prayer just preceding tlie sermon. At the
close of the service one of the number observed to him
that his trustees came m after prayers. " Well," said
he, " I don't know who needs to come in o/^cr prayers
more than my trustees."

As he was one day intently reading a poster announ-
cing that a famous opera company would perform Ros-
sini's celebrated oratorio Stabat Mater, the Rev. Dr.
Emerson accosted him with a salutation, and was in-
stantly greeted in return with this conundrum : " In
what respect were Rossini and Bishop Berkeley alike ? "
Mr. Emerson did not see the point and surrendered.
" Because," said Chapin, " they both made a stah at
matter." Berkeley was an idealist, and ruled matter
out of existence.

As he and a party of friends were one day riding up
the Catskill Mountains in an old and overloaded car-
riage, some one observed that one of the wheels creaked.
•' Oh," said Chapin, " it complains because it's tired."

He lectured one evening before the New Haven
Lyceum, and, desiring to take the nine o'clock train to
New York, found he must close his lecture a little early
and hasten with all despatch to the station. To save a
bit of hindrance he requested the audience to remain

324 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN.

seated till lie had passed out. Closing with a grand
climax, he seized his manuscript and strode down the
aisle, but had left his hat behind. Meanwhile the
crowd had pressed into the pathways of exit, and ren-
dered the prospects of securing both his hat and the train
quite dubious. A friend in the hall, aware of his fix,
lent him his broad-briramed slouch. The next day
Mr. Chapin sent it back, and said in a note of gratitude
to his friend : " Your kindness and your hat overcame
me very much; both were/c//."

When he and Mr. P. T. Barnum crossed each other's
paths it was like the meeting of Greek and Greek, and
instantly the tug of war began between the famous
punsters. A single pass at arms must be taken as the
type of their many contests. Mr. Barnum held a
Poultry Show in the old Museum Building. After
three or foiu- days of exhibition, Mr. Chapin visited it,
but found the air around these many fowls was not as
salubrious as it is among the mountains in June.
Meeting the great showman he said to him : " I thought
you were going to charge more than twenty-five cents
for admission ; but I find you only take twenty-four."
" That is n't so," said Barnum, " I take twenty-five."
" Yes," replied Chapin, " but you give every one back
a scent. "

Sitting down one day on Rev. Dr. Emerson's stove-
pipe hat, he instantly rose and passed the crumpled
thing to its owner, saying : " You ought to thank me
for that, for your hat was only silk, but now it is
sat-in."

While these pieces of wit — to which many others
might be added — seem trivial as compared with the

HIS WIT. 325

sober greatness and nobility of the man's life, and there
is almost a disposition to apologize for their presence
here, yet it must be remembered that they were a part
of his experience, and supply a color which is essential
to a complete portrait of him. His wit was fellow to
his wisdom, piety, humanity, imagination, enthusiasm,
eloquence, and must have its place in the conspicuous
groitp. And it is to be said to his honor, that he ever
carried the gift in kindness. He never turned it into
a sting. It was said of Ben Jonson — let us thmk,
wrongly — that " he would sooner lose a friend than a
jest ; " but no one ever had an occasion even to suspect
this of Dr. Chapin. Only for the pleasure of others and
himself did he permit his tongue to utter a witty word.
Nor can we fail to rejoice that the hard-working man,
given overmuch to solemnity and earnestness, found
these reliefs, and possibly a longer, as well as a happier
life, by reason of this play of his wit.

XXII.

HIS LIBRAEY.

Few private libraries in this country have been col-
lected with so much of enthusiasm and liberality of
expenditure as was that of Dr. Chapin. He was a rare
patron of the booksellers ; but they loved him far less
for his interest in their latest bulletins and his free pur-
chases, than for the ready wit, the keen intelligence,
the fine social qualities, and the true friendship he
brought to their stores to enrich their deeper life. Bet-
ter was the good cheer he brought with him, the strong
thought, the swift and brilliant repartee, than the full
purse : and many are the pleasant reminiscences the
booksellers have to relate of their genial customer.
Around him would gather a choice group of listeners as
he talked of books, or discussed the questions of the
hour, or told the latest stories.

Dr. Chapin was not only a reader of books, but to
some extent a worshipper of them, and liked to have
around him even such as he never read. It was not
altogether the contents of a book that charmed him, but
vhe age of a volume, its history, or its scarcity, had for
him a pleasing effect.

He gathered a library of nearly ten thousand volumes,
the printed catalogue of which makes a book of two

HIS LIBRARY. 327

hundred and sixty-eight pages ; but a study of this
catalogue gives no clue by which to trace even the life-
calling of Dr. Chapin. It was a miscellaneous collec-
tion of rare and valuable works which he made, with
less completeness in the department of theology than
in several other lines of reading. Aside from his devo-
tion to books for some special charm they might share,
he was ruled in his purchases by his supreme interest
in human life. Hence he gathered almost everything
which fell under his notice in the form of folk-lore,
legends, anecdotes, ballads, biography, history, social
philosophy, practical Christianity, and poetry. A book
that touched any one of the great questions of civiliza-
tion, and dealt with the vital interests of humanity, was
quite sure to find a place in his library. He sought
everything in the line of progressive thought. He was
a lover of the Broad-church literature, as an inspiration
to his soul and an aid to his preaching. He had the
power of easily melting into his own personality the
thoughts and philosophy of the advanced theologians of
the day. They spoke for him a native language. His
tendency in this direction is indicated by the fact that
he had gathered to his shelves twenty-two works by
Maurice, twelve by Kingsley, ten by Martineau, eight
by Stopford Brooke, and thirteen by Dean Stanley. He
had little interest in what is called systematic theology,
or in Biblical criticism, but sought to make himself
familiar with the philosophy and spirit of religion, that
he might enjoy himself the deeper and diviner things
of the kingdom, and make a better sermon for his pul-
pit. He read books as a preacher. The practical part
of his library bears upon the themes he would discuss

328 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

on Sunday ; and when a parisliioner suggested to him
once that he might be extravagant in the matter of
book-buying, he replied, "You are the last one who
should complain, because you will be the first who will
get the benefit of my purchases."

He felt, what every preacher may well feel, that the
English classics are especially helpful to the clergyman ;
and there is scarcely a work in that department of lit-
erature that did not stand upon his shelves. He sought
the most costly editions of the British dramatists, essay-
ists, poets, orators, sermon-makers, and historians, and
these were among his most read volumes. He found in
them strength and beauty, the deepest insights into
human life, a rare suggestiveness, a kindling influence,
and a better — because a more natural — religion than
he found in the formal books of theology.

For old books he had a tender regard, and delighted
to bring new accessions to his list of venerable volumes ;
and it was an enchantment to listen as he told the story
of their origin and history. He cherished them as a
memorial of bygone eras, a sort of mental ancestry that
survives the natural term of book-life. " We were
amused," says Rev. Almon Gunnison, " at seeing a touch
of this book-lover's infirmity in the Doctor. Guiding
us through a dry and dusty stratum of old works, his
keen eye detected the absence of some musty copy of a
priceless first edition." He remembered that he had
loaned it, and it had not been returned. It was easy to
see that he was annoyed and disappointed. He pro-
tested that he would not lose the book for a hundred
dollars." He had fourteen volumes printed before the
year sixteen hundred, sixty-five volumes printed be-

HIS LIBRARY. 329

tween the years sixteen hundred and seventeen hun-
dred, and four hundred and forty-seven volumes which
came from the press during the century preceding the
present. Many of these old books were clumsy speci-
mens of the printer's art, but to his eye, which had
acquired a strong antiquarian bias, they were as idols
to be revered.

At least three quarters of his library was made up of
English prints, and with a scrupulous fidelity he sought
the first editions, which are so precious to the lovers of
books. Of a work or an edition of which a limited
number only was printed, he spared no pains or cost to
secure a copy. If the press gave to the world but a
hundred copies, he set the booksellers of New York
and London on the search to make him the happy pos-
sessor of one copy. Illustrated works were great temp-
tations to him, and in spite of their cost he gathered
several hundreds of them into his library. Of Dore's
illustrations he had the Legend of the Wandering Jew,
Dante's L'Inferno and Le Purgatoire et Le Paradis, Les
Contes de Parrault, Don Quichotte de la Manche by
Cervantes, La Sainte Bible selon la Vulgate, Fables de
La Fontaine, Tennyson's Elaine, Gruinevere, and Vivien,
Hood's Poems, London : a Pilgrimage, (Euvres de Eabe-
lais, L'Espagne par le Baron Ch. Davillier, the Kime of
the Ancient Mariner, Milton's Paradise Lost, Fairy
Ptealm, Le Capitaine Fracasse, and eleven fine plates
from L' Album de Gustave Dore. He had a copy of
Dickens, illustrated with proof impressions from de-
signs by Darley, Gilbert, Cruikshank, Phiz, and others
Of this edition but a hundred copies were printed, and
his copy brought, at the auction sale of his books, two

330 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

hundred and eighteen dollars. He had in his library
twenty-five different works by John Kuskin, ten of
which were illustrated. His copy of Ruskin's Modern
Painters, in five volumes royal octavo, sold for one
hundred and ninety dollars ; the Stones of Venice, in
three volumes, for one hundred and twenty-three dol-
lars. His Dibdiu's Decameron, with numerous fine
illustrations on copper and wood, was bought at one
hundred and fourteen dollars. His Bryan's liiograjjlii-
cal and Critical Dictionary of Painters and Engravers,
in three volumes, with about six hundred extra illus-
trations, comprising portraits, rare plates, etchings,
including original engravings by Albert Diirer, Eem-
brandt, Hollar, and others, sold for two hundred and
two dollars ; and his copy of Peter Cunningham's Story
of Nell Gwynn and the Sayings of Charles the Second,
inlaid to large folio size, and extra illustrated by the
insertion of one hundred and forty-nine rare and fine
portraits and plates, was bid off at two hundred and
ten dollars. At the sale of his library, quite a number
of his illustrated volumes brought between one and two
hundred dollars, and many works not illustrated, but
rare and curious and tempting to book-worshippers, sold
at prices nearly as high. The entire library brought at
public sale the handsome sum of twenty-three thousand
dollars, which is probably less than half its original

cost. ^

w

In the department of ballads his library was, no
doubt, most complete. His collection of these tales of
the people set in verse is quite noteworthy. " I know a
very wise man," said the poet Fletcher, " that believed
that if a man were permitted to make all the ballads,

HIS LIBRARY. 331

he need not care who should make the laws of a
nation." Dr. Chapin seemed to coincide with this
estimate of their influence and value, and sought their
pathos and power for his own soul, and to render him a
greater master of the sentiments. He felt their sway-
over the heart, and found in them happy illustrations
of the simplicity of a tender and touching rhetoric.
They were studies in the art of sermon-making. Hence
we are not surprised that he had brought to his library
thirty-eight different collections of ballads.

Dr. Chapin's reading habits, like all his habits, were
characterized by enthusiasm and persistence. He read
books with great haste, sweeping over a page to catch
its salient points, as the eye of a painter glances at a
landscape. He was like Gladstone, who, it is said,
could master a book in fifteen minutes. He went
through a volume as Sydney Smith went through an
art gallery, taking in the general impression but not the
detail of the scene. He was content in many cases to
study merely the index and three or four chapters of a
book, for he thus made himself the possessor of its sub-
stance and value. In this way he obtained a vast gen-
eral knowledge of books and an extensive culture, with-
out being critical in any department of learning; and
not without honor to themselves did Harvard College
confer on him the degrees of A. M. and D. D., and
Tufts College the degree of LL. D. His genius, in-
dustry, and attainments, and the worthy use he made of
learning, entitled hun to such a recognition m the world
of letters. He was no more devoted as a patron of
books, than he was faithful as a friend of humanity, in

332 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN.

transmuting his wisdom into beneficent offices. "When
his star sunk in the west a great and useful L'ght dis-
appeared from among men ; but many are the hearts
which will delight to catch its lingering radiance in the
words he spoke and in the life he lived.

University Press : John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

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