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All Rights Reserved. 


To the Admirers of 


this little volume is lovingly dedicated 
by the Author. 


GREAT bishop, greater preacher, greatest man, 
Thy manhood far out-towered all church, all 

And made thee servant of all human need, 

Beyond one thought of blessing or of ban, 

Save of thy Master, whose great lesson ran : 
"The great are they who serve." So now, indeed, 
All churches are one church in loving heed 

Of thy great life wrought on thy Master s plan ! 

As we stand in the shadow of thy death, 
How petty all the poor distinctions seem 
That would fence off the human and divine ! 

Large was the utterance of thy living breath; 

Large as God s love this human hope and dream; 
And now humanity s hushed love is thine ! 


I LOOK round on the work to do, and 
I do not believe that either Episcopa- 
lianism or Methodism or Presbyterian- 
ism or Baptism is going to assert the 
victory of Christianity over sin, the 
opening of the barred citadel of wicked 
ness in this our land. The Church of 
Christ, simple, unimpeded, armed pow 
erfully because armed lightly, the es 
sential Church of Christ, must make the 
first entrance. Then let us have up our 
methods of denominational government, 
and each, in the way that he thinks 
most divine, strive for the perfected 
dominion of our one great Lord. 



PBERTSON, Raphael, Byron, 
Burns, died each at thirty-seven. 
Phillips Brooks had more years 
than Napoleon, or Schiller, or 
Abraham Lincoln. In the cathedral of 
God s completed providences there are 
no unfinished or broken columns. 

Nevertheless, the pathos of Phillips 
Brooks s life was in its withheld comple 
tion. He died at what had seemed to 
the world to be his mid-day. He was 
maturing to the last. His published 
pages are a precious and perpetual leg 
acy. He probably performed as many 
hours of important labor in his fifty- 
seven years as most men do in seventy. 
His balanced soul was as remarkable 
for sense as for sensitiveness, for sym- 


metry as for size, for humility and spir 
ituality as for surcharge of life and 
aspiration. But he has left nothing be 
hind him which represents adequately 
his magnificent depth of character, or 
his unexplored reserves of growth. 


QUANTITY of being, amplitude of nat 
ural endowment, richness of emotional, 
intellectual, and spiritual power were 
what impressed men most in Phillips 
Brooks. He was in every way a large 
man, and in almost no sense fragmen 
tary or fractional. An orator easily ad 
dresses every side of human nature that 
he possesses. Phillips Brooks had a 
many-sided soul. It is the simple fact 
that he was especially skilled in the 
knowledge, because he was himself opu 
lent in the possession, of the loftier and 
nobler sides of human endowment. A 
polygonal nature is usually a powerful 
nature ; but a spherical yet more so. 
Size without symmetry may mean mis 
chief. Phillips Brooks had both size 
and symmetry, both sensitiveness and 
spirituality, and so was remarkable for 
quality as well as for quantity of being. 
Even his commanding physical presence 
was a palpable advantage to him in his 


public work. He was unconscious of the 
fact, but others -were not. Culture did 
what it could for him ; birth did more. 
Culture in the family, the Boston school, 
Harvard University, the theological hall 
at Alexandria, the toil of his life, did 
not make his size, nor his symmetry 
they did not unmake them. 


As to the matter and manner of the 
most inspiring of the discourses of Phil 
lips Brooks, their charm and power con 
sist largely in the fact that he was a 
geographer of spiritual uplands. His 
delight in picturing the higher experi 
ences of the soul was as profound as 
his skill in doing so was remarkable. 
He almost never spoke of himself, but 
he had in his own nature and experience 
the spiritual uplands which he described. 
His most characteristic sermons are 
maps of highlands of religious life and 
truth. But they are more than maps. 
He was an excellent, though not always 
a methodical, surveyor of these elevated 
regions, and could produce accurate out 
line charts of them by a few bold 
strokes. But his discourses have their 
power, not so much in their outlines as 
in their sunlight and atmosphere. Ver- 


nal sunlight on spiritual uplands ; moun 
tain ozone on spiritual uplands ; the 
gathering rush of April torrents on 
spiritual uplands ; the bursting glad 
ness of May among forests clothing 
spiritual uplands overlooked by majes 
tic mountain peaks these phrases are 
to me the best description of his dis 
courses and their atmosphere. 

His best sermons will bear to be 
read slowly, and many parts of them 
very slowly and repeatedly. But they 
produce, after all, their highest effect 
when the reader imagines them deliv 
ered, as they were by their author, with 
a speed like the rush of mountain tor 

There were now and then lightning 
flashes from the peaks. His epigram 
matic passages never have the air of 
being studied, but they often flash from 
some severe quarter of his sky with the 
suddenness and force of authentic thun 
der bolts. These passages contain hun 
dreds of sentences that ought to be 
translated into many languages, and are 
likely to live long in spiritual antholo 
gies. In general, however, the sunlight 
of his spiritual May is not interrupted 
by passing showers. The sunbeams 
and the waters flash, but not the light 



PHILLIPS BROOKS was the prophet of 
the Parable of the Prodigal Son. His 
discourses continually emphasize the 
organizing and redemptive doctrines of 
the Fatherhood of God, and the sonship 
of men. He was the apostle of the in 
dwelling God. His watch word^ was not 
so much the Cross as the immanent Im- 
manuel. Every human being, although 
a prodigal, is yet a son, and may be ex 
pected to return to his Father s house. 
Phillips Brooks did not often, but he 
did sometimes, emphasize the Scriptural 
truth that there are prodigals of whom 
we have no evidence that they will ever 
return. The reconciling kiss is not 
given to prodigals actually in rebellion. 
Of this latter fact Phillips Brooks said 
little, but there is, of course, no doubt 
that he believed it. (See his remark 
able discourses entitled "The Law of 
Liberty " and " An Evil Spirit from the 

Mr. Gladstone called Frederick Deni- 
son Maurice a spiritual splendor. John 
Stuart Mill said of Maurice that he 
was the only preacher he knew who 
had brains enough and to spare. Phil 
lips Brooks often spoke of Maurice as 


a theological author to whom he owed a 
vast debt. Every one familiar with Mau 
rice s life and system of thought will see 
that he, more than any one else, except 
perhaps Stanley and Robertson, stood 
near to Phillips Brooks. Their views 
of broad church doctrine and polity were 
almost identical. Phillips Brooks s em 
phasis, or omission of emphasis, on cer 
tain doctrines is almost the same with 
theirs. Those who think the latter 
somewhat incomplete in their view of 
several vital Christian truths may think 
the former so. 

Although Bishop Brooks was an op 
timist and a broad churchman, it is 
certain that he was a consistent Episco 
palian. It is very unfair to assert that 
he held Unitarian or Universalist views 
of Christian truth. It has been well 
said of him that he was liberal-minded, 
but not a liberal. 

He had around him, as he himself 
said, four concentric circles that of 
his own church nearest, but next that of 
Christendom, next that of religious hu 
manity, lastly, that of the whole human 
race. In his native Commonwealth there 
was a sense in which he was Bishop of 
us all. 



LET a statue be erected in Copley 
Square representing Phillips Brooks in 
his preacher s robes, but let the posture 
and look of it be such as to lead all be 
holders to think of his message even 
more than of the man. If we wish to 
act in his spirit, let us reverence the 
truths he taught more than the teacher 
himself. The statue should look up 
ward. No portrait of him that I have 
ever seen gives adequate expression to 
his best look that solar light which 
came to his countenance in his most 
elevated and rapt moods. St. Gaudens, 
whose Puritan at Springfield and Lincoln 
at Chicago are unmatched among Amer 
ican statues, will succeed in such a work. 
On the four sides of the pedestal ought 
to stand words of his own, like these : 

On the North Side. 
"The freeing of souls is the judging 
of souls. A liberated nature dictates its 
own destiny." 

On the East Side. 

" Man is a son of God, on whom the 
Devil has laid his hand, and not a child 
of the Devil whom God is trying to 


On the West Side. 
" That book is most inspired which 
most worthily and deeply tells the story 
of the most inspired life." 

On the South Side. 
"The Divine in us reaches upward, 
and the Divine above reaches downward, 
and the two mingle ; and that is a living 
faith in a living Christ." 

No statue can fitly represent Phillips 
Brooks unless in figure, face and at 
mosphere it proclaims the Divine 
Immanence in the human soul, the 
Fatherhood of God and the brother 
hood of men. 


BOSTON, Feb. 6, 1893. 






















X. SECRET OF His SUCCESS . . . 199 





ROBES Frontispiece 



DENT " "28 



PHIA " "56 









BOSTON . " " 126 







BOSTON " " 210 

Together -with HEAD and 



THE first five chapters of the Biographical portion 
of this volume are taken, by permission of the 
author, from " An Estimate of Phillips Brooks," by 
Newell Dunbar. They were written during the great 
preacher s lifetime, which accounts for the use in them 
of the present tense. Chapters vi., vii., viii., ix., 
and x. were written after his death. 



man (or woman) of 
this world has been spoilt 
by the world. He has 
given himself over to standards and 
methods of which the sum and sub 
stance are selfishness, and has al 
lowed himself to grow to state the 
plain truth into a repulsive mon 
strosity. Himself he regards in the 
light of all but a deity to be wor 
shiped ; upon his fellows he looks 
about to see how best he can make 
use of them. He has drifted far from 


and reversed the healthy instincts of 
his childhood and of Nature. The 
scholar (signifying by that term the 
man or woman, who is not merely 
a receptacle for facts, but who has 
thought and aspired in those broader 
and deeper and more life-giving, if 
less exact, departments of intellect 
ual endeavor the theologies, the 
philosophies, the poesies, the aesthet 
ics, of the intellectual curriculum of 
which the prerogative is that they 
tend to decipher the meaning of 
life and to give it an unrest, a 
self-dissatisfaction, a distinctively 
human charm, and a worthy aim) 
has at least * considered the " what 
ought to be," as well as the " what 
is." He feels its superiority. 



When, as occasionally happens, he 
is true to his teaching, and is 
besides, in addition to being a 
scholar, a man of strong will and 
of virile powers, making up 
his mind he will never desert that 
which he knows in his heart to be 
the higher for what he equally by 
intuition knows is the lower, he 
achieves some appreciable measure 
of success in embodying "the ideal 
in his own life, and in causing it 
to be embodied in the life about 
him. Such men constitute the 
flower of our race. And it is, in 
the first place, to be noted of them, 
that they represent normal and con 
sistent growths of humanity, are 
not vitiated or warped, but such as 


Nature intended human nature to 
be ; the man not contradicting the 
boy, but continuing him contain 
ing the boy the boy grown up 
a bigger boy combining all the 
youth s simple, true, generous in 
stincts, and all-embracing sympathies 
and affections, with the man s added 
stature, strength, polish, knowledge, 
culture, and wisdom. Says Novalis : 
" Tugend ist die Prosa, Unschuld 
die Poesie" 

Such a man eminently is Phillips 
Brooks. Those who have had the 
privilege of knowing him intimately 
have often styled him a "big boy." 
The scholar, the high-bred gentle 
man, the man of weight and of 
influence upon the community about 


him, if not, indeed, in the world; 
but beneath all simple, unaffected, 
modest, hopeful, trustful, unselfish 
and well-wishing. It needs but to 
see him upon the tennis-ground with 
children, or in his church on a 
" children s day," to recognize the 
peculiar aptness of the epithet 
alluded to above. Its truthfulness 
no doubt accounts in large measure 
for his influence with the young, 
especially with young men, it being 
a notorious fact that amongst 
preachers he is the darling of Amer 
ican universities. Those who have 
beheld that vast surpliced frame in 
Trinity Church chancel drop upon 
its knees and lift up its voice in 
all the artless effusion of unques- 


tioning prayer, have the key to the 
man. There is nothing studied, or 
affected, or done for effect, or 
sham, about him. He is natural 
and genuine, and fundamental (in 
the sense of clinging to and em 
bodying the great underlying facts 
the first principles of life and 
of our common human nature), and 
true. That here is a genuine man, 
human through and through, and 
with all his elegance and cultivation 
at heart one with humanity, one 
with the people, no one could ques 
tion after reading his sermon preached 
in the church of the Holy Trinity, 
Philadelphia, after the assassination 
of President Lincoln it is so 
gloriously adequate to its high theme. 


No one could so speak, no one 
could so appreciate the simple 
grandeur of character of that remark 
able man, and not be himself com 
pact of true manhood. 

In his Boston Latin School oration, 
he praises the school because its 
teaching has never been "the privi 
lege of an aristocratic class, but the 
portion of any boy in town who had 
the soul to desire it and the brain 
to appropriate it." A fact that in 
dubitably attests the authenticity of 
his metal is that, whenever he 
preaches or speaks to what might 
be termed the populace, the populace 
eagerly listen to him. Just as the 
gipsies and poachers were Charles 
Kingsley s friends, styling him 


their "priest-king," the lower ranks 
of American society flock to hear 
Phillips Brooks, whenever they get 
the chance, equally with the more 
critical classes. They seem to be 
equally abject subjects of his spell : 
and as between reality and sham 
the populace in any country possess 
a very keen vision, that in the long 
run nothing spurious cheats. His 
" eye is single," one evidence of this 
trait being his deliberate determina 
tion to lead a celibate life, in order 
to devote himself the more com 
pletely to his sacred calling. Mr. 
Drummond, in one of his recent 
books, speaks of the fine opportunity 
afforded by the Christian ministry 
for devoting one s self to a high ideal, 


undistracted by the disturbing ele 
ment of money, which is so potent 
a factor in most other callings. 
Narrowness of means, indeed, 
Bishop Brooks has been spared ; but 
no one can doubt it would have 
made no difference to his zeal, what 
ever it might have done to his effect 
iveness, if he had not been ; cer 
tainly in choosing his profession he 
was not actuated by mercenary 

To have his name in the mouths 
of the community, and to have the 
community s gratitude express itself 
in gifts, have fallen to him naturally ; 
but they have made no difference 
in the man. 

As it. happens to almost every 


one in Boston, at one time or another, 
to meet him with his burly frame 
and big eloquent eye upon the 
streets, where he may be seen hustled 
like any ordinary mortal by hack- 
men and porters, who are apparently 
perfectly unconcerned and uncon 
scious that they are rubbing elbows 
with a great man (or, perhaps, even 
exhibit a somewhat overdone assump 
tion and bravado of ignorance or of 
self-assertion, as is wont to be the 
way with the low-class American) ; 
or running across him occasionally 
in a book-shop, with his face buried 
in a volume in rapt and scholarly 
abstraction ; or finding him a near 
neighbor in the audience at some 
public place of amusement, or listen- 


ing with fine modesty in the audience 
or congregation to the eloquence of 
another even the most careless 
observer may notice in him a certain 
noble intentness of countenance, and 
a sober restriction of regard, that 
bespeak the genuine unspoilt nature, 
self-centred in the sense of being 
loyally wedded to and humbly de 
pendent upon the revelation of the 
highest within. 

Very characteristic of the man was 
a little scene the writer remembers 
to have witnessed, one evening in 
early summer, on the Commonwealth 
Avenue mall in Boston. The great 
preacher was sauntering down the 
walk in earnest converse with a 
friend, or at least acquaintance, 


whose hand he held in his, and was 
affectionately swinging as he talked 
just as children swing hands and 
talk. His companion, who was 
known to the writer as a man noto 
riously not all unworldly and a saint, 
though of average size, looked a mere 
boy beside his own heroic proportions. 
Brooks was expostulating with him 
in regard to some point on which he 
evidently wished to change him, and 
his big, convincing, winning, "Non 
sense nonsense, Edward put it 
aside you know it is not so," 
sounded very hard to resist. It is 
not always argument with him, but 
oftentimes the pressure brought to 
bear of a well-nigh irresistible mag 
netism and potent personality. 



It is amusingly told of him (and 
it illustrates the modesty of the man) 
by one of his clergy, who is rector 
of a suburban Boston parish, and in 
whose church he frequently preaches 
on which occasions the pews over 
flow, settees are placed in the aisles, 
and all the available interstices are 
occupied by people standing that 
always, after the service, he says, 
with the utmost good faith, " Grey, 
what a splendid congregation you 
have ! " It apparently never enters 
his head to imagine that that is not 
the usual condition of things in that 
church, when preachings are afoot. 

Another story told of him by his 
friend Archdeacon Farrar illustrates 
the same trait. When wonder was 


expressed, during one of his English 
visits, by some of his English friends, 
at the generous, if unaccepted, offer 
made to him by certain members of 
his congregation at home, to send 
him abroad for a year, paying all 
his expenses and those of a substi 
tute during his absence, he answered 
laughing, " Oh, they were tired of 
me, and wanted a change ! " 

Any reference to the personality 
of Phillips Brooks would be incom 
plete without some allusion to 
his physique. To be not only big 
morally and intellectually, but well- 
nigh herculean bodily, constitutes a 
sort and condition of man that is 
eminently adapted for reaching all 
classes in the community both 


those who appreciate the higher spirit 
ual graces, those who delight mainly 
in hard-headedness, and lastly the 
more purely animal, upon whose low- 
ness of grade moral and mental adorn 
ments are quite thrown away, but 
who recognize and respect good tan 
gible thews and bulk when they see 
them. When the apostle of rnercy 
and forbearance comes, it is well for 
him to come, if possible, equipped 
in this Milonian fashion : for one 
thing, he can scarcely then be sus 
pected of preaching what he practices 
from necessity and from motives of 

Like all thoroughly healthy 
natures, Phillips Brooks at once 
detects and hates flattery. Intelli- 


gent appreciation is welcome to him, 
as it must be to every genuine man. 
The outside world exists for him as 
something to be benefited : for its 
adulation he does not seem to care, 
preferring for society that of his inti 
mate friends, with whom he is sun 
shine itself. Of himself he speaks 
little. His sense of humor is strong, 
as any one for instance may see by 
reading the delicious oration delivered 
at the celebration of the two-hundred- 
and-fiftieth anniversary of the found 
ing of the Boston Latin School, which 
has already been referred to. Nobody 
seems to know when he does his 
work : he is always accessible and 
disengaged in the morning. He is 
very optimistic, believing in the 


intrinsic goodness of human nature. 
He thinks that the world makes 
steady progress in accordance with a 
fixed law. His principal regret is 
that he cannot live longer, since he 
is convinced that at about the time 
when the next generation shall have 
fairly taken its place upon the scene 
and settled down to work, there will 
occur a sudden blossoming out in the 
condition of humanity such as it has 
never before beheld. 

How shall the personality of 
Phillips Brooks be summed up ? 
Archdeacon Farrar calls him " every 
inch a man." To the writer recur 
the words Brooks himself spoke of 
Lincoln (so different from himself 
till you get down to the very core 


of the two men) " the greatness 
of real goodness, and the goodness 
of real greatness " 




Right Reverend Phillips 
Brooks, D.D., Harv., Bishop of 
Massachusetts, and today doubt 
less the greatest preacher in 
America or in England, if not of 
Protestantism and of the world, 
was born in Boston, December 13, 
1835, and is consequently now in 
his fifty-sixth year He is in the 
full vigor of a regally-endowed 
manhood, and likely to be able to 
devote many years to come to the 
causes of religion and of education 


which he has held so dear. The 
original home of his family was 
North Andover. That his parents 
were devoted to Christianity, appears 
from the fact that of their six 
sons four, including him, became 
Christian ministers. When he was 
a boy, the family attended St. 
Paul s Church, in Boston, of which 
the rector was that admirable pulpit- 
orator, the Rev. Alexander Hamil 
ton Vinton, whose polished elo 
quence, it is not unnatural to 
suppose, may have had consider 
able influence in arousing in young 
Brooks s heart that predominant 
ideal which so often makes the 
boy in a great sense father of the 
man. Dr. Vinton afterwards for 


a second time, as will be seen later, 
exerted a beneficent influence upon 
his young friend, and at a critical 
point in his life. Dr. Vinton, 
by the way, preached the con 
secration-sermon at the consecra 
tion of the new Trinity Church, 

Young Brooks fitted for college 
at the Boston Latin School, and 
in 1851 was admitted to Harvard 
University, by which famous in 
stitution he was duly graduated in 
1855, being then in his nineteenth 

It is on record that at about the 
time of his graduation that criti 
cal period in the lives of educated 
youth he was in doubt (as so 


many such young men are) what 
profession to adopt. When stiL a 
senior he consulted the President 
of his University on the point, and 
that learned gentleman, with all 
the omniscient insight of a very 
wise man, said : " In deciding the 
difficult question of a choice of pro 
fession, I think, we may always be 
helped towards a solution of the 
problem by eliminating, in the first 
place, the impossible vocations. 
This saves much trouble and loss 
of time, as it at once narrows the 
field, and restricts the mind to 
fewer points, from which to make 
its selection. Now, in your case, 
for instance, owing to the im 
pediment in your speech, you could 


never be a preacher, and we may 
as well therefore at the outset lay 
aside all thought of the ministry." 
Just what profession collegiate in 
fallibility recommended its young 
applicant for advice to adopt, need 
not be recalled here : the irony of 
subsequent events has extracted 
the interest from the rest ot the 
little oration. The advice given 
was no doubt sound, judging from 
the standpoint of probability, and 
weighing what seemed to be the 
chances. Moreover, the speaker, 
beyond a doubt, gave it with reluc 
tance, as his preferences must all 
have been in favor of the pulpit. 
This very funny story, however, 
would never have risen up and lived 


to be told against him, if, classical 
scholar as he was, he had not been 
temporarily oblivious of the para 
doxical case, upwards of two thou 
sand years ago, of a certain 
somewhat famous man in Athens, 
named Demosthenes. The wreck of 
his prophecy only furnishes one 
more proof, what unforeseen and 
wonderful things a great personality, 
in " dead earnest," unaccountably 
manages to achieve. 

In spite of the well-meant ad 
vice of the sagacious but human 
President, the future preacher de 
cided to make the ministry his life- 
calling ; and, in order to prepare 
himself for it, betook himself to the 
Episcopal Divinity School at 

Phillips Brooks as a Harvard Student 


Alexandria, Va., graduating here 
in 1859. Many are the recollec 
tions of his noble character and 
promise cherished by those who 
were his classmates here. Here 
it was that he wrote his first sermon, 
on " The simplicity that is in 
Christ," of which he himself his 
sense of humor being keen, even 
when he himself is the victim re 
counts that a classmate s criticism 
of it was, " There was very little 
simplicity in it, and no Christ." 

If graduating from college is the 
Saarbriick in a young man s career, 
graduating from his professional 
school is his Sedan. The perplexing 
question of establishing himself, 
and of making a start, then confronts 


him. In this respect, indeed, the 
young minister has the advantage 
over the young lawyer and the 
young doctor. Unless the latter have 
some means of subsistence apart 
from their professions, the outlook 
for them is disheartening, indeed : 
in all probability, it will be years 
before their position is secure, and 
their practice remunerative. The 
"starting" clergyman, on the other 
hand, as soon as he has secured a 
parish at all, at once secures with 
it a living, and a place for making 
himself felt. But with a young 
man of large possibilities, how great 
the importance where and what 
that first parish is ! If it be off by 
comparison somewhere in the back 
woods, with a scant, commonplace 
and insignificant congregation, in 
all human likelihood, to be sure, he 


will work to the front, and win the 
position suited to his powers, in time ; 
but it will probably take him years 
to do so, and when the opportun 
ity shall have been conquered, 
youth will have fled, and the 
momentum and keenness of his first 
onset have been dulled. Phillips 
Brooks s first parish was the Church 
of the Advent, in Philadelphia, of 
which he became rector in 1859. The 
story of his settlement here consti 
tutes quite a little romance, one of 
those fascinating romances of genius 
with which the biographies of emi 
nent men present us. At the Ad 
vent, his preaching and character at 
once made themselves felt ; but, 
though in a general way it may be 
said that the intellectual grade of 
nearly all Episcopal parishes is high, 
still by comparison the congregation 


was composed mainly of plain people, 
the church edifice was in an obscure 
quarter of the city, and the opportun 
ity afforded for the rector to become 
widely-known was small. It was just 
at this point that Dr. Vinton who 
had in the meantime become the rec 
tor of the large, wealthy and growing 
Church of the Holy Trinity, in Phila 
delphia rendered the essential serv 
ice spoken of above. He opened his 
pulpit to young Brooks Sunday after 
noons : the results being that the Ad 
vent presently began to overflow 
Sunday mornings with Holy Trinity 
parishioners, and that when Dr. Vin 
ton removed to New York soon after 
ward the rector of the Advent was 
invited to take his place. After being 
thrice asked, Brooks was installed 
rector of Holy Trinity in 1862 ; thus, 
with few tedious preliminaries, quickly 


stepping into a first-rate position in a 
great and populous city. Here his 
fame as a preacher grew, and came 
to extend far beyond the warm 
hearted Quaker City, and indeed 
beyond its State. In Philadelphia, 
he remained ten years, and departed 
thence greatly regretted, leaving be 
hind him a memory such as it has 
been given to but few men to create. 
Whenever he returns thither on a 
visit, his welcome resembles that of 
the prodigal son. 

When young Brooks was seeking 
his first parish, his native city of 
Boston in regard to whom, her 
critics have not been slow in point 
ing out how frequently she has 
failed to know her greatest some 
how or other did not seem burning 
with anxiety to furnish him a 



foothold ; but when the noise of 
him had gone abroad in the land, 
and it began to be said that Phillips 
Brooks of Philadelphia was the 
greatest preacher in the Episcopal 
Church, if not indeed in the country, 
Boston if somewhat tardily 
opened her eyes and heart (not for 
getting her pocket), and concluded 
to take him in. Indeed , it has been 
further remarked by those extremely 
keen-sighted persons, her critics, 
that after driving her unrecognized 
geniuses from her door on penalty 
if need be of starvation, once let 
them become of mark elsewhere, 
and thrifty Yankee that she is 
with eye ever roving for the 
"rising sun" she hastens to wel- 



come them back. In 1869 the 
rector of the Holy Trinity, Philadel 
phia, received and accepted a call 
to and became the rector of 
Trinity Church, Boston. 

His new parish, like the one he 
left, was a strong and influential 
one. Its church edifice, with " its 
battlemented tower, like a great 
castle of the truth," was at that 
time a conspicuous object in Sum 
mer Street. It was destroyed in 
the "great fire" of 1872. The 
parish at once proceeded to erect 
a new place of worship. The plans 
for it were drawn by that architect 
of sweetness and light, Mr. H. H. 
Richardson, whose untimely death 
was a loss to American art, and 


by all odds the most complete, 
thoroughly-built and beautiful church- 
building in the United States, with 
a seating capacity of over two- 
thousand, situated on Boylston 
Street in the choicest residen 
tial portion of the city, and 
costing over a million dollars, was 
the result. For architectural beauty 
it will compare with many of the 
famous places of worship, hallowed 
by time and by sacred memories, of 
green England. As one regards it 
in the bright morning or in the early 
evening light, fancy adds the soften 
ing of outline the mellowing and 
metamorphosis of tints the more 
daring spread of the ivies that 
nre to come with the years, and the 



heart, yielding a sigh of deep con 
tent, confesses to itself : " It is 
enough ! " 

The new church was taken pos 
session of in 1877, and from that 
time to this has been the home of 
Phillips Brooks s eloquence. The 
audiences it has contained have 
grown with the fame of its rector, 
till today it often scarcely suffices 
to admit the throngs that seek en 
trance. In 1886 he was elected 
Assistant-Bishop of Pennsylvania, 
but declined. The offer of a Pro 
fessorship in . Harvard University 
was also at this time made him ; 
but neither did he accept this. 

He has at various times been a 
quite extensive traveler, having 


visited no inconsiderable portion of 
the earth s surface, including India, 
Palestine and Japan : it may be added 
that he cherishes the hope of ex 
tending his travels before he dies 
still further. In England his visits 
have been numerous, and he has 
made many friends and created a 
deep impression there. He preached 
at Westminister Abbey ; at both 
the Universities ; before the 
Queen, and before many of the 
first people in the Kingdom. It 
was and is the opinion of Arch 
deacon Farrar, that his equal as a 
preacher and as a man does not 
exist amongst the clergy of the 
English Church. 
At the death of Bishop Paddock in 



1891, he was almost unanimously 
elected Bishop in his stead by 
the Diocese of Massachusetts. Ac 
cording to the very singular, and it 
is thought wholly unprecedented, ar 
rangement existing in the American 
Episcopal Church, however, in that 
church a diocese practically cannot 
elect its own bishop, the election not 
being valid until it has been rati 
fied by a majority of all the bishops 
in the Church. The objections 
urged against him, the long contest 
over the matter, and all the sorry 
tale of innuendo, recrimination 
and partisan strife, need not be re 
counted here. They are fresh in 
the minds of all, and are now 
happily ended. Even as you are 


reading this little book its title has 
been justified, and Phillips Brooks is 
in fact Bishop of his native State. 




ONE need not be very far ad 
vanced in life to remember 
the time when Curtis, and Willis, and 
Emerson, and Lowell, and many 
another illustrious name of that 
mighty generation of writers and 
speakers, of which today the sur 
vivors are, alas ! so few, were utter 
ing their philippics against the 
materiality and sordidness of Ameri 
can life. American life, indeed, has 


advanced since then at a giant s 
pace ; it has expanded all round ; 
since its birth, money was never 
held by it in so high esteem as 
now ; but it has grown in other 
ways, too. It is not as yet much 
recognized, in our crude and semi- 
barbaric day, that, great as is its 
power, money does not give the 
best things, though that is the 
fact, seen to be such by the more 
civilized and sharpest minds. It is 
an excellent adjunct and accompani 
ment of the best, but furnishes a 
poor substitute for it. Did money, 
for instance, ever yet win a heart ? 
Can it of itself bring happiness ? 
Will it command health ? Is any 
thing it ever bought to be com- 



pared with the joy of the artist, 
who, day by day, sees grow in 
visible embodiment beneath his in 
spired fingers some one of the dreams 
amongst which his soul habitually 
dwells, in regions the world wots 
not of, save as occasionally he 
vouchsafes it a token from them ? 
With the measureless content of an 
author, as he pens the last word 
of a work that he knows will 
move the hearts and decide the 
actions of his day, and, when those 
who make his day shall have van 
ished, move hearts and influence 
destinies yet unborn ? What within 
its reach is comparable with the 
lofty existence, not like unto that 
of other men, passed by a music- 


composer by Schumann, for in 
stance amidst celestial harmonies, 
whereunto only his ears, and those 
of the great tone-gods, are privi 
leged to listen ? With the exultant 
sense of beneficent power that 
floods and fires the soul of a great 
mistress of song of Christine Nils- 
son, say as she stands before 
three thousands of her fellow men 
and women, and knows there is not 
a tear in all their eyes, a drop of 
blood in all their veins, that is not 
her slave ? Or of an actor, who 
focuses the hearts, with the eyes 
and ears, of box, pit and gallery 
upon the quiver of an eyelash, the 
trembling of a tone ? Or of an 
orator, such as Kossuth, or Phillips 



or Gough? And of all orators, 
what one can be likened for unique 
ness of position (standing as he does 
between man and God), for dignity 
and momentousness of the issues 
involved, to the orator of the pul 
pit the preacher ? 

As a preacher and that, beyond 
a doubt, is the capacity in which 
he is greatest the quality that, in 
the writer s opinion, first strikes all 
Phillips Brooks s hearers, is what 
may perhaps be termed, for lack of 
a better word, his copiousness. He 
is like a colossal reservoir, that 
seems full almost to bursting, and 
well-nigh unable to restrain what it 
contains. He takes his place in 
the pulpit, and opens his mouth, 


and without any accompaniment of 
manner (whatever may be the case 
with the matter) specially appro, 
priate to an exordium, just be 
gins right in the middle, as it 
were. The parting of his lips 
seems like the bursting open of a 
safety-valve by the seething thoughts 
and words behind, and out they 
rush, so hot in their chase the one 
of the other, that at times they ap 
pear to be almost side by side ; and 
from then till the moment when he 
stops, with equal abruptness, he 
simply pours pours pours ! out 
out out! It seems as if he could 
not possibly say enough, or begin 
to express what he has to utter. 
Just as in his writing, he is super- 



latively and superbly reckless in 
lavishing his treasures apparently 
feeling that the difficulty is, not to 
find what to say, but to use a tithe 
of the material that throngs and 
beats and surges to be let out. 
He gives the best he has; never 
speaking, any more than writing, 
down to the supposed requirements 
of auditors only partially developed ; 
not stopping to sort, but flinging 
his words out as they come, satis 
fied that each hearer will appro 
priate what belongs to him, and all 
will get something. Great torrents 
and waves, as it were, of appeal 
and aspiration and eloquence and 
thought rise and fall, and whirl and 
eddy, throughout the church, till they 


seem to become almost visible and 
tangible, and to beat upon the eyes 
and foreheads of his hearers as 
they do against their hearts. The 
audience, caught in the rush and 
swing of this fervid oratory, feel as 
if they were rocked upon the im 
passioned bosom of an ocean of 
inspired speech. It is soul speak 
ing to soul. Indeed, you have to 
pay the closest attention, and catch 
all he says only with difficulty. So 
rapid and thronging is his utter 
ance that, as is well known, the 
English reporters, used to a more 
leisurely eloquence, were at first 
perplexed and even utterly baffled 
in their efforts at "taking" him, 
and finally succeeded in achieving 


the ability to reach that end only 
by a sort of special education, ob 
tained through chasing his excep 
tionally " whirling words." It is to 
be hoped, by the way, this practice 
may have had some appreciable 
effect towards reforming the pro 
fession of tachygraphy in Great Bri 
tain. Bishop Brooks s oratory has 
been not inaptly compared to the 
headlong rush of an express-train. 

In point of fact, coolly consid 
ered, Phillips Brooks exhibits as a 
preacher well-nigh every fault of 
delivery : but he does not leave you 
time to criticise. There are in 
him a tremendous vitality, a vigor, 
an exhaustlessness, an irresistible 
onset of confident and ardent ear- 


nestness, that, whether you will or 
not, take you clean off your feet, 
and whirl you along at their 
mercy, but pleased, and it is to be 
hoped benefited. It is not to be 
wondered at that when Samuel 
Morley was spending three months 
in the United States, he stayed over 
a second Sunday in Boston in order 
to hear Phillips Brooks preach 

As to the audiences attracted in 
his native city and elsewhere by 
this great American Preacher, they 
are composed of persons by no 
means all Episcopalians, but drawn 
from almost every denomination 
some, indeed, having no very dis 
tinct religious affiliation or belief of 


any kind. It seems to have been 
the case with all the historic preach 
ers that their power has sufficed to 
break the bonds of denomination 
thus causing something like a re 
turn to the primitive simplicity 
and of unbelief. There is something 
elemental about pulpit utterances 
of the first rank : they are the 
lava-stream melting and transfusing 
all it touches. One who has made 
a study of the matter is forced to 
confess that there is good reason 
for thinking that no inconsiderable 
number of those who go to hear 
Phillips Brooks go, less for the sake 
of any religious instruction or bene 
fit to be received, or because they 
believe what the preacher says, 



than for the simple purpose of en 
joying his oratory just as they 
would go to a public place of 
amusement (a concert, for in 
stance), or to any literary enter 
tainment. Neither probably is 
this exceptional in his case. It is 
deeply to be regretted ; but looking 
at the subject inductively, as a 
matter simply of observation and 
experience, one is compelled to 
recognize the fact. This is unfor 
tunately a sceptical and irreligious 
age, though Americans notoriously 
admire a man who preeminently 
"understands his business," and 
performs it perfectly. Doubtless, 
Chrysostom never converted all his 



If, however, any amongst the 
audience do not believe what the 
preacher says, it is simply impos 
sible for any man, woman or child 
not to believe that the preacher be 
lieves it. At those wonderful noon 
day services in Trinity Church, 
New York, last year, not one of 
those clear-headed breathlessly-at 
tentive Wall -Street operators 
judges of men trained in perhaps 
the most sceptical school on earth, 
and some of them the kings and 
princes of finance but knew in 
his heart by intuition infallible that 
the speaker before them was a 
kingly man, who spoke kingly from 
his soul, and simply could not lie, 
palter, or pretend. They might 


not in all cases or at all points be 
able to understand him, but they 
instinctively knew him to be true. 
And after all it is impossible to 
say what chords are genuinely 
touched, what natures wakened, by 
pulpit oratory, in spite of them 
selves, and sometimes even to their 
own hearts unconfessed. Only He 
who knows all knows this too. At 
any moment he who goes to listen 
from curiosity or to enjoy may find 
his conscience stung beyond con 

Of the English clergy and their 
sermons the verse runs 
" They make the best and preach the worst." 

Charles Kingsley in the pulpit 
rested his arm upon or grasped 



the cushion, meaning to avoid ges 
ticulation ; but as he became aroused, 
his eye kindled, his whole frame 
vibrated, and with his right hand 
he made a curious gesture which 
he seemed unconscious of and un 
able to restrain the fingers moving 
with a hovering motion like a hawk 
about to swoop upon its prey. Car 
dinal Newman in the pulpit re 
sembled a tall, unimpassioned, though 
piercingly earnest spectre from an 
other world, with a silvery voice. 
Of Whitefield indeed Southey said 
his " elocution was perfect " ; he 
used to preach each sermon over 
and over again, till every inflection 
and gesture became perfect. Frank 
lin said he could always tell on 


hearing him, from the stage of its 
finish, how new the sermon was. 
Bossuet s delivery was dignified yet 
vehement. Jonathan Edwards stood 
motionless in the pulpit, one hand 
resting on it, and the other holding 
up to his eyes his little closely- 
written manuscript from which he 
read. The first sermon Whitefield 
preached after ordination to the 
diaconate drove fifteen people in 
sane with fright. When Edwards 
preached the congregation at times 
rose to its feet unable to remain 
sitting, and people fainted. Great 
men are great in spite of their 
faults. Kingsley had an impedi 
ment in his speech, which disap 
peared however as soon as he began 


to speak in the pulpit. Whitefield had 
a cast in one of his eyes. Bossuet s 
voice was too shrill. All these 
men succeeded as preachers, as 
Robertson succeeded, as Brooks suc 
ceeds, because they were on fire 
with holiness to the bottom of their 
being, and back of their words lay 
their lives. 




T T 7ITH perhaps the single excep- 
* * tion of two ventures in verse 
and of his dispassionate paper on 
"The Episcopal Church" in the 
" Memorial History of Boston," 
Bishop Brooks s claims to be con 
sidered as an author rest upon his 
published Sermons, Lectures, and 
Addresses. Though of course these 
were written for the purpose of be 
ing delivered, since they have been 
made into printed books and given 
to the public, they may not improperly 


be regarded as belonging to the prov 
ince of authorship. Indeed, it might 
with some show of justice be urged 
that, when he writes any of his ser 
mons or addresses, he is in that 
act a writer it being only when 
he mounts the pulpit or the plat 
form to pronounce them, that he 
becomes the preacher. 

Amongst the strong and well-re 
membered impressions that come 
back to one, on turning over the 
leaves of the five volumes of Ser 
mons, of the Yale College and of 
the Bohlen Lectures, and of 
the rest, perhaps the best-remem 
bered and strongest is that of rich 
profusion. Simile, metaphor, insight ; 
historic, scientific, theological and 


literary allusion ; observation ; a deep 
knowledge of human nature all the 
wealth of an opulent scholarship and 
of a teeming brain ; all the riches of 
an overflowing heart are proffered 
without reserve. His learning is 
worn as a suit of mail-armor, never 
cramping or stiffening the natural 
play of his members. Pedantic he 
never is ; and whenever he employs 
what may perhaps be styled "library- 
facts," they have become delightfully 
metamorphosed : he has put more of 
himself into the statement than there 
is of the facts. Indeed he often 
plays with them which Goethe 
thought to be a sign of the master. 
Especially apt, effective and beautiful 
are his illustrations, though they are 


never used for effect, but only as 
they should be to illustrate. Take 
one, where a hundred might be 
given : 

" We are like southern plants, 
taken up to a northern climate and 
planted in a northern soil. They 
grow there, but they are always 
failing of their flowers. The poor 
exiled shrub dreams by a native 
longing of a splendid blossom which 
it has never seen, but it is dimly 
conscious that it ought somehow to 
produce. It feels the flower which 
it has not strength to make in the 
half-chilled but still genuine juices 
of its southern nature. That is the 
way in which the ideal life, the 
life of full completions, haunts us all." 


Such passages as this surely are 
what even an adversary terms, in 
the sermons of Luther, "oasis, pleins 
de fraicheur et de poe sie, des pense"es 
nobles et de licates, des mouvements 
pathethiques et affectueux" 

His pages bristle with quotable 
expressions, phrases and sentences 
of the most striking aptness. As 
for example : " Faith is the king s 
knowledge of his own kingship." 
" A scramble for adherents rather 
than a Christ-like love for souls." 
" That first step which costs, we 
know, cannot be too costly, if it 
starts the enterprise aright. * 

The curious thing about a ser 
mon is that, though it is stated 
logically, the material composing it 


consists of feeling rather than of 
thought ; and in this respect of 
feeling logically handled Phillips 
Brooks is unexcelled. He takes a 
subject and expands it perhaps first, 
as it were, lengthwise ; then later 
ally; then downwards; and finally 
upwards to its loftiest reach ; adding 
room after room to the growing edi 
fice, and ever and anon shooting 
rays of apocalyptic light through it 
diagonally in every possible direction, 
till the whole theme stands devel 
oped and revealed, vibrating through 
all its length, and palpitating as it 
were in all its pores, with a glory 
of prismatic hues ; so to speak, 
sounding and throbbing even with a 
music celestial. Sometimes a figure 
used at the outset of a discourse is 


repeated or referred to again and 
again, each reappearance casting a 
new and wonderful light upon the 
theme, and marking a fresh step in 
its growth : as for example the 
plant and flower illustration in the 
sermon on " Withheld Completions," 
or Edom and Judah in the " Con 
queror from Edom," which, hinted 
at and persistently and in greater 
and greater fullness recurred to 


throughout, emerge in their co m- 
plete and overwhelming splendor 
only at the very end just as Gou 
nod treats Margaret s apotheosis- 
theme in " Faust." The beauty and 
force of these repetitions, occurring 
often when least expected, and each 
time strangely like the familiar 
though changed voice of an un- 


earthly bell knelling out of the ser 
mon s progress, amount at times to 
a revelation : they attack us in our 
most defenceless part, in the reason 
beneath reason, what may be called 
our "intuitional reason," irresistibly 

our tears start, and we cry aloud ! 
He who has read one of the best 
of Phillips Brooks s sermons has 
gazed upon a cartoon drawn list 
ened to an oratorio composed by a 
Great Master of logical and of artis 
tic expression, and of the human 
heart. Having as it were wafted 
his reader for half-an-hour through 
the heavens on rose-tinted clouds, 
to close sometimes he brings him 
gently to earth again in vul 
gar parlance, " lets him down easy " 

in a way that occasionally seems 
to partake somewhat of anti-climax ; 

Phillips Brooks. 




although doubtless whenever used 
it serves the good purpose of lead 
ing the audience gradually into har 
mony with their every-day surround 
ings, while it at the same time 
leaves the splendors of the sermon s 
heights still ringing through their 
consciousness, to be afterwards re 
called at leisure and in quiet (who 
shall say when or how often 
throughout the years to come, or 
indeed while life lasts ?). Some 
times, on the very crest of the 
climax, he abruptly ends with a 
quick prayer to the All-Father, 
which of itself inextricably clinches 
in his hearer s heart the sermon s 
benign invasion. 

Reference has been made, in a pre 
vious chapter, to his never writing 
down to the level of his readers. In 


addresses composed for delivery be 
fore students, theological or other, 
niggardliness of learning would not 
perhaps be expected: but in the 
Sermons, addressed to miscellaneous 
audiences, the case is not far from 
being as bad. His feeling in the 
matter would seem to be, it is best to 
give only give: if each one does 
not grasp it all, he will some: and 
the attempt to grasp the attitude of 
reaching tip the effort to compre 
hend what one has not as yet thor 
oughly mastered is of itself helpful 
(much preferable to the supine and 
indolent mental posture of one who 
is quite on the level of, or even a 
little above, what he reads). It is very 
noticeable in him that, whether writ- 



ing or speaking, he never seems satis 
fied till the note struck is the octave- 
note that view of the matter in hand 
which is the highest his thought and 
life have yielded him and every sub 
ject he handles he seeks to lead up and 
attach to the loftiest he knows : he is 
never willing to rest till he has 
reached that theme. A loyal knight, 
ever alert to duty. Dr. Lyman Abbott 
has recently remarked of him that 
he always preaches : any of his after- 
dinner speeches he might use the 
next Sunday in his pulpit. 

Not only is he complex, and instead 
of coming down to his readers invites 
them to come up to him : he is never 
afraid of giving full measure, heaped 
up and running over. Into every 



address or chapter he puts material 
enough to make, if more thriftily 
spread out, four highly respectable 
ones. Every page scintillates with 
gems, not only gathered from widely- 
distant quarters of thought and of 
feeling, but packed into the smallest 
space. A discourse of his is like the 
" dark rich cloth bursting out into 
jewels from within," which serves 
him as an illustration in one of his 
sermons. He may be said to compose 
royally, as who has the storehouse of 
the Universe and of Eternity behind 
him, and nothing is further from 
his thoughts than an intellectual 
economy. Indeed, his resources and 
the activity of his brain are such, 
that it is probably easier for him 



to lavish than to withhold and 

It must be confessed, he knows 
how to feel his way to the deep 
places of the human heart led by 
an instinct infallible, and upon the 
corrupt and sore spots of the soul 
he lays the renovating and healing- 
touch of a master. Carlyle, speak 
ing of what used to be called " bil 
lowy Chalmerian prose," says that 
" no preacher ever went so into 
one s heart" as Dr. Chalmers but 
when did Carlyle ever state an opin 
ion moderately ? In one of the 
Yale Lectures, if the writer re 
members the place correctly, Brooks 
points out to his hearers, young 
men preparing for the Christian 


ministry (and, through them, to 
students of religion at large), how 
wondrous and confirming, to the 
young priest who goes from his 
school out into life, is the revela 
tion of finding that, the longer he 
lives, and the deeper he sees into 
the surrounding mystery of things, 
the more are the teachings of the 
Master and of the wise ones, which 
he studied during his years of pre 
paration and accepted largely on 
trust, corroborated by the world, 
the more are they discovered to be 
applicable in the way of alleviation 
to the world. This revelation has 
clearly been made to him, and he 
is moreover to be credited with 
noticeable originality of insight and 



of application. The " Lectures on 
Tolerance," for instance mere 
suggestion, instead of the elaborate 
work on the subject that would have 
been so welcome, and he would have 
written so well, though they are 
are of marked originality. Such 
production as this it is, that causes 
Dr. Abbott to indulge in the shrewd 
conjecture that Phillips Brooks thinks 
even more than he studies adding 
that he entertains the suspicion that 
he prays. In no sermons recalled 
by the writer at this moment, are 
there in proportion to the whole a 
larger number that, once read, 
stamp themselves ineffaceably and 
forever upon the memory and 
heart, and are found to come up, 


throughout life like some of Rob 
ertson s, and one or two of the late 
Dr. George Putnam s alike in 
our hours of revery and of crisis, 
as it were, "with healing on their 
wings." It seems hardly too much 
to say that, in the bitterest advers 
ity or affliction, he who has ever 
read the sermon on the " Consola 
tions of God " will have had done 
for him the utmost that human 
means afford. 

His style is fitted for and at once 
suggests his delivery : the same 
abrupt start, quick getting under head 
way, and sustained and out-pouring 
rush. It is like a high-bred racer : 
there is so much vitality in it, its speed 
cannot be kept down. Indeed, when- 



ever you take up an address of which 
you do not know though you may 
begin to suspect the author, as soon 
as beneath the growing statement 
you hear the gathering rush you may 
feel sure you are reading Phillips 
Brooks. The only prose of his the 
writer remembers that lacks this 
decisive trait is the " Memorial His 
tory " chapter already referred to 
without the signature it would 
never be known as his. Whatever he 
writes is written to be spoken. He has 
the extemporaneous instinct. The 
main thought or feeling he wishes to 
express is jumped at at once, and 
struck out first, leaving the details to 
fall into place afterwards. As Person 
said of Charles James Fox, "he 


throws himself into the middle of his 
sentences, and leaves it to Almighty 
God to get him out again." He often 
feels several times for the exact 
word he wants, just as one does in 
speaking, though each time his word 
of tentation is almost a blow. Nor 
does he make any extensive experi 
ments in the way of variety of man 
ner. Lowell, to take a single 
instance, exhibited several quite dis 
tinct styles or veins, but Brooks is 
always Brooks the same unchanged 
instantly-recognizable quality wher 
ever met with. It is as if, having in 
the first place carefully studied a 
thing and learned to do it well, he had 
never cared to bother with excursions 
after universality of form, but just 



goes on doing the thing over and 
over again. 

His vocabulary is copious, pithy and 
choice. His sentences are short; 
each sentence and phrase contains its 
idea rolled into a pellet ; each pre 
sents a totally new idea, generally 
drawn from a source widely-different 
from the last. They follow each 
other in almost breathless suc 
cession, till all the marvelous com 
plexity of the subject he is presenting 
has been built and welded together 
and driven home. 






I S it asked, what does Phillips 
* Brooks stand for today in the 
" Protestant Episcopal Church in the 
United States of America " ? 

It may be answered : Phillips Brooks 
in any church stands first and fore 
most for the Fatherhood of God 
the sonship of Christ and of man 
the inspiration of the Spirit. 
If we, in the words of Arch 
deacon Farrar, when speaking of 
him, " want to know something of 



Christianity as Christ taught it, be 
fore it was corrupted," we may turn 
to him. 

He believes, above all things, as 
regards both the Founder and the 
preachers of Christianity, in person 
ality; in life rather than doctrine ; in 
giving "not an argument but a 
man." He says : " If there has been 
one change which above all others 
has altered our modern Christianity 
from what the Christian religion was 
in apostolic times, I think beyond a 
doubt it must be this, the substitution 
of a belief in doctrines for loyalty to 
a person as the essence and the test 
of Christian life. . . [The gospels] 
had no creed but Christ. Christ was 
their creed." " Not from simple brain 


to simple brain, as the reasoning of 
Euclid comes to its students, but 
from total character to total charac 
ter, comes the New Testament from 
God to men." Again: "The king 
must go with his counsellors at his 
side and his army at his back, or he 
makes no conquest. The intellect 
must be surrounded by the richness 
of the affections and backed by the 
power of the will, or it attains no per 
fect truth." "The method which in 
cludes all other methods must be in 
his [the preacher s] own manhood, in 
his character, in his being such a 
man, and so apprehending truth him- 
self, that truth through him can come 
to other men." This comprehension 
or intuition of the supremacy of per- 


sonality, for instance, it is that forces 
him, in his address upon " Biography," 
delivered at Phillips Exeter Academy, 
to confess that he would rather have 
written a great biography than any 
other great book, and that if he were 
going to be a painter he would by pre 
ference paint portraits. Of his own 
words it has been said that, like the 
Master s, they themselves "are spirit 
and are life." 

To him, again, " religion presents 
itself . . . as an elemental life in 
which the soul of man comes into 
very direct and close communion 
with the soul of God." Everywhere 
his utterances, his character, and his 
life are full of this. In the sermon 
upon the "Knowledge of God," he 


points out how Christ " knew God. 
He sent back adoration, trust, exu 
berant love in answer to the recog 
nized care which was always pouring 
itself upon him." This is his ideal 
for man. He impresses it upon the 
students whom he seeks to help ; he 
inculcates it in his congregations ; he 
unconsciously illustrates it in his 

Personality first, uttering itself in 
fullness and perfection of life. Above 
all is the Father. Be led by the 
Spirit to Christ, and " hid with Christ 
in God" be joined to Him let 
His life flow through you, and sup 
ply and impel and restrain and guide 
you: that is the only thing. It 
renders all else superfluous. After 


that, indeed, all else follows of 

As God is our Father, so are all 
men our brothers. Nothing human 
is to be accounted foreign or alien to 
us. We are to love even infidels 
and pagans Buddhists, Moham 
medans, and the worshipers of Hel 
lenic Zeus as well as the Christians 
of sects other than ours. Around 
each one of us lie four concentric 
circles : the nearest encloses the par 
ticular church to which he belongs ; 
the next distant, the whole body of 
Christians ; the one after that, those 
who cherish any religious belief what 
ever ; the last, all mankind, even 
those with no religion at all. Of 
these four, the first the one 


enclosing the particular church to 
which a man belongs " nestles to 
its centre with a warmth of sympathy 
which the others do not know:" and 
there, stated in his own words, lies 
Phillips Brooks s Churchmanship. 

He is, it may be said, in the first 
place, a son of God at first hand ; 
never out of the presence or the 
thought of his Father ; in direct and 
intimate relation with Him ; receiving 
his inspiration and credentials imme 
diately from His hand : and as he is, 
so would he have others be. There 
is no need for the priest to over 
emphasize himself, his machinery, or 
his methods. He is not infallible ; he 
is subject to doubt, to error, to growth, 
the same as any other man, and would 


do better never to feel hesitation in 
saying so. To the men and women of 
his congregation, whom he has so 
often instructed from the pulpit, he 
often finds himself in need to come for 
instruction and help himself. He is 
here, not to obtrude himself, but only 
to do what he can towards helping 
his fellow men put and keep them 
selves in the same direct, original 
communication with God that he en 
joys, and become his brothers indeed. 
He is simply a window through which 
the Light may be seen ; merely a door 
by which men may enter in. That it 
is his privilege to be : beyond that he 
may not hope nor ask. 

Different sects are necessitated by 
the very constitution of human nature, 



They have always existed, and always 
will exist. We talk of the " unity of 
faith," but it never was nor ever will 
be possible for Christianity to be in 
all respects a homogeneous unit. One 
in impulse, one in purity, one in " full 
ness and perfection of life," in 
deed, it may be that is, one at 
heart but in matters of the head, 
of opinion, of doctrine, of organiza 
tion, it must always contain shades 
of variance. One who has reached the 
bottom (or top) of things, and is 
united with God, will recognize others 
who are in like manner united. He 
will feel that they may be so united, 
and yet differ with him in doctrine or 
denomination ; he will respect and 
entertain tolerance for their opinions ; 


since these are something decided, 
and so better than mere indifference, 
he will, up to a certain point, even 
admire them for holding them, and 
rejoice that they do so. "The more 
men you honor the more cisterns you 
have to draw from." He may argue 
with them and seek to arouse their 
reason to accept his views : he will 
never exclude, or scorn, or seek to 
coerce them. Beyond a doubt, he 
may preach in their pulpits (as Phillips 
Brooks himself has done). Different 
men will always see different aspects 
in the same thing When this is a 
very large and complex and con 
stantly-unfolding thing as in its 
applications is Christianity no one 
body of observers grasps it all. No 




single denomination can appropriate 
all the truth in Christianity. For 
those who do not regard it in all its 
details just as we do, we should rejoice 
that other denominations exist, to 
which they may resort. Only an 
aggregation of progressing denomina 
tions can hope to represent or master 
it all. 

And yet in essentials and at bottom 
Christianity may be comprehended 
in " a few first large truths." " Every 
truth is necessary to man which is 
necessary to righteousness, and no 
truth is necessary to man which is 
not necessary to righteousness." 
" There are excrescences upon the 
faith which puzzle and bewilder men 
and make them think themselves un- 


believers when their hearts are really 
faithful. Such excrescences must be 
cast away." 

As to the future life, and punish 
ment " such as God is can punish 
such as men are for nothing except 
wickedness : honestly mistaken opin 
ions are not wicked." " Error is not 
guilt." "Whatever comes to any 
man in the other life will come be 
cause it must come, because nothing 
else could come to such a man as he 
is." " Insincerity (whether it profess 
to hold what we think is false or what 
we think is true), cant, selfishness, 
deception of one s self or of other 
people, cruelty, prejudice, these are 
the things with which the Church 
ought to be a great deal more angry 



than she is. The anger which she is 
ready to expend upon a misbeliever 
ought to be poured out on these." 

What Phillips Brooks stands for 
in the " Protestant Episcopal Church 
of America " is thus seen to be some 
thing at bottom very simple; very 
broad, catholic, lofty and grand ; and, 
it must be confessed, it seems very 
like the Truth. 




consecration of Bishop Brooks 
was an imposing ceremony. On the 
morning of October 14, 1891, Trinity 
Church was completely filled by a con 
gregation largely made up of the culture 
and wealth of Boston. Officials of the 
nation, State and city lent dignity to 
the occasion, and the highest dignitaries 
of the church participated in the exer 
cises. Two of the brothers of the 
bishop Rev. Dr. Arthur Brooks and 
Rev. John C. Brooks, themselves dis 
tinguished clergymen were the pres 
byters who attended him as he pro 
ceeded slowly and impressively from 
the chapel down the north aisle of the 
church and up the broad central aisle, 
and all recognized the beauty and the 
appropriateness of the association. His 
place now was a pew in the body of the 



church, from the pulpit of which for so 
many years he had poured out the 
wealth of his eloquence. He was ac 
companied to his place by the vestry 
and wardens of Trinity, and a long pro 
cession of clergymen in their robes, 
who marched with measured step to the 
music of " Holy, holy, holy," and " The 
Lord of Abraham Praise." Ten min 
utes were required to reach the chancel. 

When the procession reached the 
altar the attending ushers stepped aside 
and the bishops took their places at 
the altar for the preliminary communion 
service, which was conducted by Bishop 
Howe of Central Pennsylvania. The 
responses to the Commandments were 
sung by a choir of fifty-two voices, com 
posed of present and past members of 
the choir of Trinity Church, to music 
by Gounod. The " Gloria Tibi " was 
by Durham, and the first hymn was 
" Go Forth, ye Heralds, in My Name," 
after which several church announce 
ments were read. 

From his pew, Phillips Brooks could 
see the six hundred clergymen who had 
gathered about the chancel rail to do 
honor to the occasion, and hear the elo 
quent words of Right Rev. Henry C. 
Potter, bishop of New York, who 
preached the consecration sermon. It 
was a noble effort, worthy of the occa- 


sion and the man. There was a beau 
tiful personal thread of love and friend 
ship running through it, notably when 
he spoke of the days of their youth 
together, and when his voice thrilled 
upward almcfst to breaking as he said, 
turning to the subject of his discourse, 
" I love you through and through." 

Then followed the formal presentation 
of the elected bishop, the reading of the 
certificate of election and the canonical 
testimonial, the consent of the standing 
committee and of the bishops. The 
promise of conformity was repeated in 
a very low voice after Bishop Williams. 
Then came a pause, and Phillips Brooks 
lifted his face with a quiet and expressive 
movement, and looking upward, uttered 
clearly and fervently, " So help me, God." 
Again was there an accent of emphasis 
in the first answer to the first question, 
" Are you persuaded that you are truly 
called ? " etc. " I am so persuaded," 
was the answer ; " I am truly persuaded," 
with a fervent, upward glance. 

The litany and suffrage, the music of 
the anthem, the retirement of Bishop 
Brooks and his return, wearing the rest 
of the Episcopal habit in black and 
white ; the " Veni Creator Spiritus," re 
peated above him kneeling, and the ordi 
nance of the laying on of hands, with 
the adjuration to remember to "stir 


up the grace of God," given him by this 
imposition of hands, are part of the 
solemn and impressive ceremonial that 
will never be forgotten by those whose 
privilege it was to witness it. The new 
offertory anthem given during the col 
lection of the missions, the singing of 
"Sanctus" and the Eucharistic hymn, 
and the " Gloria in Excelsis," and the 
recessional " The Son of God," made 
the strong and fitting musical expression 
of all that had gone before. 

The administration of the communion, 
the repeating of the Lord s Prayer by 
the congregation, the benediction pro 
nounced by Bishop Williams, closed a 
notable service. 

George William Curtis, writing in the 
" Easy Chair " of Harper s Magazine, said 
of it : " It was a memorable event, none 
exactly like it in the annals of that 
communion ; a catholic incident, which 
demonstrated the superficiality of mere 
sectarianism and denominational differ 
ence. The stalwart champion of his 
faith, who does not think his own drum 
ecclesiastic to be the only instrument in 
the orchestra, becomes the bishop of a 
wider than his titular diocese, a bishop 
inpartibus of God-fearing and men-loving 

The newly consecrated bishop at once 
set about the execution of his duties 



with all his accustomed enthusiasm and 
vigor. One of the reasons, indeed, 
assigned for leaving Trinity had been 
that the strain upon him in the bishopric 
would be less, seeming to show he 
felt a physical need of sparing himself. 
But he never administered the episcopal 
duties with concession to any such need. 
Indeed as expressed by an humble 
official he appeared to do as bishop 
all he had done before, and the new 
work besides. He preached not infre 
quently a dozen times a week, and 
the amount of general labor he took 
upon himself was simply enormous. 
Bishop Clark remarked, on once seeing 
the list of his appointments, that " if he 
died he would be deserving of no sym 
pathy," as no man had a right to spend 
himself so unstintedly. On the Sunday 
following his consecration he adminis 
tered the rite of confirmation in the 
smallest parish church of his diocese. 
In the mysterious Divine Order, his 
episcopate was destined to last only a 
year and three months ; but in that 
short time he effected literally wonders 
in the way of uniting and magnifying 
the diocese. It was said that " such an 
outlook, and such unity among the 
clergy, as opened for the Episcopal 
Church and ruled its councils had never 
been known in any Episcopal diocese 


in the country ; " "there was more life 
in the Episcopal Church of Massachu 
setts than at any previous time in its 
history." Those who had for years been 
his opponents on doctrinal or ecclesi 
astical grounds, had but to meet him 
personally to become his devoted friends 
and admirers : this not only within his 
own denomination, but outside of it. 
The testimony on this point is con 
clusive. Those who had opposed his 
election to the bishopric became his 
adherents. Wherever he went, his pres 
ence seemed to be a sun that chased 
away all black clouds. 

He once wrote : " We are too much 
in the habit of asking, when a new town 
or city is offered as a possible field for 
an Episcopal Church, whether there are 
any Church people there ; as if that name 
described a special kind or order of 
humanity to whom alone we were to 
consider ourselves as sent. The real 
question ought to be whether there are 
human creatures in that town. We are 
sent to the human race." 

In that belief he acted. Says Dr. 
George E. Ellis, the eminent Unitarian : 
"It is plain to all of us in this com 
munity that while in one of such noble 
ness of soul there was no lack of love 
and loyalty for the views and vows and 
duties which he had espoused and to 


which he had consecrated himself, he 
overran all the bounds of sympathy and 
charity in the universal comprehensive 
ness of his prompting and purpose, not 
only to recognize with respect every 
form and type of religious conviction, 
but to add his own strong helpfulness in 
speech and influence to the aims and 
work of all who were apart, and to whom 
he offered all that they could crave of 

Says the Boston Herald, editorially : 
"All the clergy and the people of Boston, 
and all the clergy and people of Massa 
chusetts, had a part in him, and he was 
their bishop by the grace of God, and 
accepted as such, quite as truly as he 
was the titular bishop of the Protestant 
Episcopal Church in Massachusetts." 

Says the Boston Transcript, editorially : 
" Every man, woman, and child in Massa 
chusetts felt as if they had some part or 
lot in the work and career of this man." 

He was called " our bishop " by mem 
bers of all denominations, and even by 
some perhaps who were members of 

After seeing him administer confir 
mation, an observer wrote: 

"What was there in his manner, his 
tone, his soul-utterance, that caused 
every one to be held spellbound, follow 
ing him as he bent down in benediction, 


and as he raised his noble face to heaven 
to plead that the Good Shepherd keep 
this member of the flock in the fold ? 
I have seen the ceremony hundreds of 
times, but never in its completeness 
before. It was like hearing Way 
Down upon de Suanee River, sung by 
Christine Nillson, instead of by incom 
plete talent, or Home, Sweet Home 
by Adelina Patti. I was not the only 
one affected. The scene comes to me 
as vividly as then the hushed held- 
breath absorption of the congregation 
in the bishop behind the rail, and he, 
unconscious as it were of them, but ac 
tively doing his Master s work, doing it 
as I had never seen it done before. 
Was I wrong ? I asked those in my 
company as we walked away if they had 
been similarly influenced. We were 
Episcopalians, but not of the Trinity 
congregation ; and I found the four of 
us were of one mind. It was a never- 
to-be-forgotten scene. I have seen 
great sights in my life. I have seen all 
England welcoming the young Danish 
princess to her English home ; the re 
turn of the Guards from the Crimea. 
The great heart of the people throbbed 
on these occasions as I have never seen 
it since. I saw Napoleon and Paris 
welcome his African troops on their re 
turn from the desert fields of battle ; I 


have seen Grant, Sherman, and Elaine 
welcomed; I have witnessed the thrill 
ing effect of war standards, with strips 
of the national colors still clinging to 
them, carried in the streets crowded 
with people; I have heard the noble 
Wendell Phillips electrifying an audi 
ence in his greatest oration in the Old 
South ; I have heard the polished, gra 
cious Devens, the sarcastic Ingalls, the 
irony of Conkling, the polish of Sumner, 
the home-touch of Dickens, the high 
breeding of Lowell, and the wit of gen 
ial Holmes but what are these in 
memory to the touch of the divine I 
witnessed in the -little church that Sab 
bath eve when the spirit of Easter was 
abroad and the typical lily symbolized 
the season ! " 

The summer before his death he vis 
ited England again, preaching in West 
minster Abbey, and creating throughout 
the kingdom a more profound impres 
sion than ever he had done before. It 
was his first visit to England as bishop. 

On the fourteenth day of January, 
1893, Bishop Brooks caught cold while 
officiating at the consecration of a church 
in East Boston, and complained of sore 
throat. Five days later, Thursday, the 
I9th, he took to his bed, from which he 
never again arose. His physician, who 
was at once summoned, did not consider 


the case serious, though he ordered great 
care and extreme quiet for the patient, 
and had him placed in care of a nurse. 
The physician was constant in his attend 
ance during Friday and Saturday, but 
saw no alarming symptoms until late 
Sunday night. He then called in a 
brother practitioner, the case having 
assumed a diphtheritic character. A 
consultation was held at three o clock 
Monday morning, but even at that hour 
no sign of immediate danger was de 
tected. Soon after the bishop became 
delirious, and then was attacked with a 
slight spasm. Immediately following 
the convulsion the patient s heart grew 
weaker, and at exactly 6.30 o clock the 
bishop ceased to breathe. His last 
words were spoken to his brother, and 
were in the nature of a farewell. 

Beside the bishop s bedside when 
the end came were the physicians, the 
nurse, the bishop s brother William, and 
the family servants. 

It may be said here that Bishop 
Brooks had known, and some of his in 
timate friends had known, on competent 
medical authority, for upwards of ten 
years, that his death was likely to occur 
suddenly at any time. During the last 
five years of his life he had largely lost 
his ample covering of flesh, and grown 
very noticeably spare and even gaunt. 


It was a subject of frequent remark 
amongst his friends and acquaintances, 
that he seemed to be aging more rapidly 
than is usual at his time of life. When 
he came home from delivering the ser 
mons at Trinity Church, New York, 
three years before, he was perceptibly 
older, and during the last year of his 
life his hair had grown quite white. 
The evidence all seemed to show that 
the diagnosis of the physician, more than 
ten years before, had been correct ; and 
when the end came it came because, 
while the attacking disease was in it 
self slight, the internal powers of resist 
ance were gone. Doubtless, too, the 
rate at which he worked was hurtful to 
him from a physical point of view. 

The news of this disastrous removal 
carried consternation throughout the 
community, and could with difficulty at 
first be believed. It was like a thun 
derbolt out of a clear sky. It seemed 
impossible that such an apparently all- 
round impregnable tower of strength 
could have been brought low, as it were, 
in a moment, without a word of warn- 
ing. Men stared at the newspaper bul 
letin boards and refused to credit the 
evidence of their senses. Ladies poured 
into the stores as they began to display 
in their windows draped pictures of the 
departed, and inquired what it all meant, 
thinking there was some mistake. 


Wherever one stood or passed in the 
streets one heard the beloved and ven 
erated name on men s lips. Laborers 
and teamsters called out the sad news 
to one another. Poor women wept at 
their work, and even business men did 
not attempt to hide the tears glistening 
in their eyes. 

The telegraph and telephone did their 
work. The tidings spread far and wide, 
and soon from all over the country arose 
the note of regret and lamentation, 
coupled with eulogy. 

Said the Nation : " The death of Phil 
lips Brooks strikes down the greatest 
figure left to the American church. He 
long ago rose above his own denomina 
tion, and made his large personality a 
part of broad and progressive Christian 
ity everywhere. Men felt that the fact 
of his being an Episcopalian was a mere 
accident, and that his generous nature 
would have made its own sect, or, rather, 
absence of all sect, wherever he had 
found himself placed. Indeed, one may 
go further, and, echoing Sumner s cry 
that he was a man before he was a com 
missioner, say that Phillips Brooks was 
a man before he was a clergyman. Cer 
tainly he could never have been the 
clergyman he was had he not been the 
man he was. . . . What he had been as 
rector, preacher, lecturer, he continued 

Old Trinity Church, Summer Street, Boston. 


to be as bishop a lover of truth and 
simplicity, a hater of shams and conven 
tions. His personality and his fame 
will doubtless remain unique in the his 
tory of American Christianity." 

Said the New York Evening Post: 
" Never perhaps has the religious world 
in the United States suffered so severe 
and crushing a blow as that which has 
been dealt it by the death of Phillips 
Brooks, who, by reason of his moral 
health and strength, his intellectual cul 
ture, his splendid powers as an orator, 
his high courage, his personal charm 
and comprehensive liberality of thought 
and act, was a noble representative of 
the highest type of the modern church 
man. . . . One man like Bishop 
Brooks fills tens of thousands of the 
younger generation with the noble dis 
content which alone keeps the public 
conscience alive." 

Said Chauncey M. Depew : "The 
death of Phillips Brooks is a national 
calamity. The world is smaller and 
poorer by his departure. He filled a 
great place in connection with the in 
tellectual development of the country 
upon religious lines. He accomplished 
the most difficult feat of any church 
man in this country, and, I think, abroad. 
He was placed in the midst of the highly 
cultivated and brilliant Unitarianism of 


Boston, and substantially captured it. 
He was almost the only churchman 
whose death will be regretted by people 
of all other sects. The principles, the 
practice, and the superb expression of 
his theology and his humanity, brought 
him very near to the heart of the great 
mass of the American people." 

Said Joseph Cook : " New England 
has waited a century for a man of his 
magnificent depth of character, and we 
are all personally bereaved. A part of 
my life is buried in his grave. Some 
could have wished that his attitude tow 
ard certain reforms could have been 
more pronounced. But his influence 
was wholesome and precious. When 
we remember that his sphere of activity 
was national and international, we shall 
regard that his loss will be felt in Eng 
land as well as in New England. He 
represented manly, progressive Chris 

Said Edward Everett Hale : " Too 
broad for sect, too large for party, and 
too wise for controversy, he accepted 
every opportunity in the service of his 
Master, by which he could elevate the 
people to the highest and noblest life. 
He was too brave to shrink from any 
duty, as he was too humble to refuse 
any. His matchless power of speech 
was the fit result of the purity of his 


life and the manliness of his purpose. 
And in his sympathy with all, young 
and old, high and low, he carried every 
where the gospel which he loved, so as 
to make it command the attention of all 
who saw him, or heard him, or knew 
him. There is no one left who had 
so many friends." 

Said Edwin D. Mead : "As we think 
of his great and divine life to-day, which 
we here in Boston have chiefly been 
privileged to see and touch, who can 
fail to feel, as the men of Florence felt 
who heard and knew Savonarola, that 
every poor and miserable image which 
we treasure the poor political ambi 
tion, the paltry love of money and the 
things that money buys, the indul 
gences of culture, the literary vanities, 
the social jealousies, the resentments 
that sterilize, the sorrow that consumes, 
each thing that is not pure and univer 
sal should be hurried to the square 
and burned, as an expression of that 
devotion and high resolve to have here 
a better city, a loftier public and per 
sonal life, which is the only expression 
of gratitude which he ever cared for or 
cares for. Phillips Brooks s influence 
upon our general American religious 
life and thought cannot to-day be esti 
mated. Too religious, too reverent 
and too great for controversy, he has 


gone on conquering place for his deep, 
broad, and catholic thought in his own 
church and in all churches simply by 
his positive, synthetic preaching of it, 
and by living it and being it. He was 
a man greater than all churches the 
friend and fellow of all who live in the 
spirit. Whatever his own cherished 
theological doctrines and whatever his 
own chosen and dear ecclesiastical re 
lations, his church was nothing less 
than the Church of the Living God, 
the church of all just and generous and 
loving men." 

Said one who knew him at Oxford, 
England : " There are many in Eng 
land who will mourn the death of 
Bishop Brooks mourn not merely 
a mighty preacher, a magnificent man, 
but a true friend. More than any man 
I have ever known, Phillips Brooks pos 
sessed that which commanded instant 
trust, complete confidence, a power 
not only the outcome of a splendid phy 
sique, eloquent of strength and pro 
tection, of a broad, quick, and ever sym 
pathetic mind, but of a great heart 
filled with love for all his fellow-beings, 
a love blind to all differences of class 
and of race, and which shone ever from 
his kindly eyes, lit up his face with a 
sunny smile, and made him godlike." 

His funeral occurred on Thursday, 


January 26, and was a public one. The 
following description of it is taken from 
the columns of the daily press : 

If any testimony were needed of the 
affection of the people of Boston for 
Phillips Brooks, it was afforded on that 
day by the great crowd that assembled 
about Trinity Church at an early hour, 
and continued to gather until the last 
opportunity for gazing upon his beloved 
face had gone by. Beginning with the 
little group that appeared in Copley 
Square before 7.30 o clock, it continued 
to increase until at one time there was 
a line of people extending from there 
to Berkeley Street, almost making the 
sidewalk impassable. Indeed, it would 
have been so but for the services of a 
large body of police, who kept the peo 
ple so compact as to afford a narrow 
passageway. At 7.45 the coffin enclos 
ing the remains was borne from the 
bishop s residence at the corner of 
Clarendon and Newbury Streets, ac 
companied by a guard of the Loyal 
Legion, of which organization Bishop 
Brooks was chaplain. It was taken 
to the church and placed in the vesti 
bule, the centre of which was shrouded 
in the heaviest black. The coffin was 
covered with the colors of the Loyal 
Legion, upon which lay a cluster of 
Easter lilies, intermingled with palms. 


The plate bore this inscription : 



December 13, 1835. 

January 23, 1893. 

Details from the Loyal Legion did 
duty as guards of honor, relieving each 
other every hour. 

Fully three hundred people were in 
line when the doors were opened at 
eight o clock, and from that time on 
there was an uninterrupted procession 
of people, divided into two files after 
entering the doors, one passing on one 
side of the coffin and the other on the 
opposite, uniting again at the south 
door, through which they passed on to 
St. James Avenue. A view of the bish 
op s face was obtained through a heavy 
plate of glass, hermetically sealed. 

The people who were thus afforded 
a view of a face grand and impressive 
even in death, were of all conditions of 
life. Gentlemen and ladies in rich and 
elegant attire walked side by side with 
persons wretchedly dressed and bear 
ing all the evidence of severe poverty. 
Large numbers of children, evidently 
from poor and humble homes, waited 
patiently and decorously in the long 
line for an opportunity to see one 
whom they remembered as having said 
kindly words of cheer to them when he 


had visited the homes of their parents 
or addressed them in their Sunday 
schools. When the doors were closed, 
soon after eleven o clock, thousands 
were yet in line and lingered about the 
square for the brief service which was 
to be said in their presence. 

At all the other entrances there 
were large gatherings of people who 
had reason to suppose that a place 
would be found for them inside the 
church. It was a difficult task to keep 
them in order and discriminate as to 
their claims for precedence. 

It is estimated that fully twelve 
thousand people viewed the remains 
of Bishop Brooks as they lay in state. 
For the first hour the people had filed 
by at the rate of sixty a minute. Then 
it increased to eighty a minute. Among 
them was an old woman, shabbily 
dressed, with gray hair and careworn 
face, who, when she reached the casket, 
drew a beautiful cluster of roses from 
her bosom and placed it upon the cas 
ket. When she turned away her tears 
were streaming down her cheeks. One 
Chinaman was amongst the number. 

A woman with wan face and the 
scantiest raiment, whose every appear 
ance indicated a life of penury, stood 
shivering in the crowd. Tugging at 
her dress was a little boy, who, like his 


mother, showed traces of want and suf 
fering, his clothing being thin and in 
sufficient, and even his shoes being so 
worn as to afford him little protection. 
The woman, as the crowd surged about 
the doors, gently touched the arm of a 
policeman, and begged to be allowed to 
enter the church. The officer, noticing 
her humble appearance, roughly brushed 
her aside, telling her to get into line. 
" Oh, but I must see him once more ; 
he paid for the operation which gave 
sight to my boy, and I must see him 

This came in pleading tones, and she 
grasped the hand of her little boy all 
the more tightly, while the tears ran 
down her cheeks. Her words went 
straight to the heart of every one 
within hearing. An usher quietly 
stepped forward, told the officer to 
allow the woman to enter, and mother 
and boy, in their poor, humble way, 
paid their last tribute to him whose 
heart and hand and purse had been 
used to open the world to the view of 
the little blind boy. 

While the host was passing through 
the vestibule where the bishop s body 
lay, the delegations were fast filing in 
through the St. James- Avenue and Clar 
endon-Street doors. By 11.30 all the 
pews were taken, and many were stand- 


ing in the choir-gallery and in the aisles. 
About this time the professors and stu 
dents of the Episcopal School of Massa 
chusetts, at Cambridge, entered, attired 
in their black surplices, and took their 
places on the right of the broad aisle. 
Soon after the rectors of the Massachu 
setts diocese, attired in their white sur 
plices, entered and took seats opposite 
the students, the congregation standing 
as they filed in. They were followed 
by a number of rectors from other dio 
ceses, who took seats in the chancel. 

The entire north (or left) side of the 
floor and the north gallery were reserved 
for the congregation of Trinity Parish, 
who entered at the Clarendon-Street 

Pews on the middle aisle were re 
served for the clergy who could not be 
provided for in the chancel, visiting 
clergy from other dioceses, the imme 
diate family, standing committee of the 
diocese, honorary pall-bearers, the war 
dens and vestry of Trinity Church, the 
Governor and committee of the Legis 
lature, Mayor of Boston, President of 
Harvard College and the corporation, 
members of the Harvard class of 1855, 
delegation from the Massachusetts Com- 
mandery of the Loyal Legion, and per 
sonal friends. The entire south side of 
the church, both floor and gallery, was 



reserved for the diocesan organizations, 
the officers and students of the Episco 
pal Theological School, delegations from 
St. Mark s School and Groton School, 
the Board of Missions, directors and lay 
missionaries of the Episcopal City Mis 
sion, general officers of the Massachu 
setts Women s Auxiliary, trustees of 
donations, directors of Church Home 
for Orphans and Destitute Children, 
managers of the Girls Friendly Society, 
St. Luke s Home for Convalescents, 
Episcopal Church Association, Episco 
palian Club, officers of Young Men s 
Christian Union, representatives of 
Young Men s Christian Association, 
Trinity Club, Boston University. 

The funeral arrangements were beau 
tifully carried out with the aid of a large 
corps of marshals. These marshals were 
the same gentlemen who had officiated at 
Bishop Brooks s consecration less than 
two years before. 

There were many clergymen present 
representing many denominations. 

It was much like Easter Day in the 
church, for although there were the 
deep draperies of mourning, there was 
also the same display of flowers one 
sees at the festival that marks the close 
of Lent. The great cross of lilies in 
the chancel, the lilies upon the coffin of 
the dead bishop, and almost the first 


sweet, springlike sunshine that had 
come during that cold January, all to 
gether seemed to impress the feeling of 
the day of resurrection upon the thou 
sands of assembled people. 

The interior of the church, including 
the chancel, walls and railing, pulpit, 
reading-desk and gallery, was all heav 
ily draped, and in beautiful relief the 
chancel itself was decorated with floral 
and other appropriate emblems. At the 
back of the chancel was an arch of 
laurel fifteen feet high and nine feet in 
width, flanked on each side by two 
spruce-trees eight feet in height. Di 
rectly in front of this arch, on a sort of 
dais, rested a tall and beautiful cross of 
Easter lilies, and at the side was the 
baptismal font concealed by laurel and 
filled with Easter lilies. The chancel 
railing was wound with laurel, and upon 
it, in a row, were small potted spruce- 
trees. The artistic effect was of a 
pyramid, and the trees were so tapered 
as to conform to that idea. 

During the morning hours boxes of 
flowers were arriving from the florists, 
principally roses and lilies, and were 
piled up in the open space before the 
altar. After ten o clock no attempt 
was made at arranging them, and they 
were simply massed wherever a suitable 
place could be found for them. 


Just before noon the doors opened 
from the vestibule and the funeral pro 
cession entered, headed by Rev. Dr. 
Donald, rector of Trinity, and followed 
by the six bishops Bishop Williams 
of Connecticut, Bishop Niles of New 
Hampshire, Bishop Neely of Maine, 
Bishop Clark of Rhode Island, Bishop 
Randolph of Virginia, and Bishop Tal- 
bot of Wyoming. The eight members 
of the standing committee of Trinity 
Church came next, and behind them 
the bier, borne on the shoulders of eight 
men picked from the various athletic 
teams of Harvard College. The twelve 
honorary bearers followed : Dr. W. N. 
McVickar of Philadelphia, Justice Gray 
of the United States Supreme Court, 
Rev. Percy Browne, Hon. Robert C. 
Winthrop, Dr. C. A. L. Richards of 
Providence, President Eliot of Harvard 
College, Rev. Leighton Parks of Em 
manuel Church, Colonel Charles Russell 
Codman, Rev. Professor A. V. S. Allen, 
Robert Treat Paine, C. T. Morrill, and 
Dr. H. Weir Mitchell of Philadelphia. 
The family and the wardens and vestry 
men of Trinity Church brought up the 

The body was placed at the head of 
the broad aisle just outside the chancel. 

After the silence of the moment fol 
lowing the placing of the coffin, the 



burial service began. The voice of 
Bishop Potter shook while he read the 
opening lines of the two hymns which 
were sung by all the congregation, 
"Jesus, lover of my soul," and " For all 
the saints who from their labors rest," 
led by the old quartet ; but during the 
service it was clear and firm, and at times 
almost triumphant in. quality, particu 
larly in the reading, " There is one glory 
of the sun, and another glory of the 
moon, and another glory of the stars ; 
for one star differeth from another star 
in glory. So also is the resurrection of 
the dead. It is sown in corruption ; it 
is raised in incorruption ; it is sown in 
dishonor; it is raised in glory." 

There was no eulogy, of course. 
Only the violets of mourning spoke 
to the people from the black-hung pul 
pit. After the last prayer and the 
benediction of grace, the coffin was 
carried again down the broad aisle, and 
during the service outside everybody 
remained standing while the low notes 
of the organ and the sound of sobbing 
made the silence of the church seem 

No one in that vast throng of people 
which had assembled in Copley Square 
at noon can ever forget the scene. 
From an early hour the crowd had been 
gathering, and as it passed through the 


vestibule where the body of Bishop 
Brooks lay in state, many still lingered 
about for the service which had been 
announced after that in the church. A 
hollow square was roped off about the 
centre doors, and within it was a solid 
row of policemen. Every inch of space 
on the immense steps, the sidewalk, and 
the surrounding streets was packed with 
hundreds of men and women, repre 
senting every walk of life. That it was 
no crowd of curious idlers, a hasty look 
would show, but sincere mourners, who 
showed by their presence their intense 
longing to pay some tribute of respect 
to him who was the loyal friend of all 
classes. Many found it impossible to get 
near the church, and they filled the steps 
of the Art Museum and all of the 
neighboring buildings, while from the 
private houses of the immediate vicin 
ity other interested spectators looked 
upon the extraordinary scene from wide- 
opened windows. At half-past twelve 
the great doors swung back, and the 
heavily draped coffin was brought into 
the sunlight and placed on the elevated 
frame, which was also draped. 

Rev. Dr. Donald took his position at 
the left, with the pallbearers grouped 
about. The short, impressive prayer 
was delivered by the rector in a clear 
voice, while profound silence fell upon 


the listening multitude. As he closed 
his book and stretched his hands toward 
the crowd, saying, " Let us all join in 
the Lord s Prayer," every head was 
bowed and every lip seemed to move 
in prayer. 

It was a thrilling scene. Strong 
men, unused to any show of feeling, felt 
no shame at the big tears that splashed 
down their faces, and the only other 
sound besides the murmur of hushed 
voices was an occasional sob. 

The assistant rector then read the 
hymn beginning, 

" O God, our help in ages past, 
Our hope for years to come, 
Our shelter from the stormy blast, 
And our eternal home," 

copies of which were distributed among 
the crowd. Three cornetists stood at 
the left of the officiating clergyman, and 
led the singing. 

Dr. Donald then pronounced a bene 
diction, and the mourners came from 
the church to the carriages which very 
in waiting, and the crowd slowly very 
slowly and sadly dispersed. 

The carriages being taken, a proces 
sion was formed which proceeded to 
Mount Auburn by way of the Harvard 
Bridge. Hundreds of people had col 
lected along the line of its progress ; all 


places of business passed by it were 
closed ; and no person gazed upon it 
but showed in his demeanor solemnity 
and respect. 

When, coming up Harvard Street, 
its head reached Beck Hall, Cambridge, 
a few minutes before two o clock, the 
University bell began tolling, and the 
students gathered in great numbers. 
They lined up on both sides of the 
drive from University out to the west 
gate, standing three deep, with hun 
dreds of the town people who had 
assembled to witness the impressive 
demonstration, standing in the rear of 
the lines. The procession halted at the 
Main-Street entrance sufficiently long 
to enable students to get into position ; 
then it slowly passed into the yard. 
As the carriages filed by, every head 
was bared, and all remained uncovered 
until the last vehicle in the procession 
drove out of the gate. The scene was 
as picturesque as it was impressive, and 
what gave additional solemnity to the 
occasion was the chiming of Pleyel s 
Hymn from the belfry of Christ Church, 
and the tolling of the old college bell in 
Harvard Hall. The college flag was at 
half-mast. A large number of students 
followed the procession a short distance 
on its way to the cemetery. 

A funeral assembly of one hundred 


or more persons was waiting at the 
cemetery when the procession arrived. 
Here the old-fashioned, black iron fence 
that still conservatively encloses the 
Brooks family lot was entirely covered 
with evergreen and flowers. In the 
centre, the mound formed by the earth 
thrown from the grave was surmounted 
by a broken shaft of lilies capped with 
carnations, white roses, sheaves of wheat, 
and ferns. The posts of the railing were 
hung with wreaths of ivy and violets 
tied with purple ribbon. 

In the rear of the lot was a large 
open book, inscribed "The Light of the 
World." Near it was a second shaft, 
encircled with an ivy wreath. There 
were a number of other wreaths lying 

In the lot are buried the bishop s 
father and mother, and his two brothers, 
Rev. Frederic and George. 

On a temporary platform before the 
lot the burial service was read. Those 
who had assembled before the funeral 
procession arrived gathered at the top 
of the hill in the rear while the proces 
sion from the carriages gathered upon 
the platform. The young body-bear 
ers from Harvard tenderly brought the 
coffin from the hearse and placed it 
beside the open grave. The service, 
which was brief, was read by the bish- 


op s two brothers Rev. John Brooks 
and Rev. Arthur Brooks. At the close 
of the service there was a slight sur 
ging toward the lot, and there was 
scarcely any one present who did not 
bear away with him some memento in 
the shape of a flower or a bit of green 
that had lain by the grave of their be 
loved bishop. 

From twelve o clock to two, during 
the funeral services, there was a general 
suspension of business throughout the 
city, even the stock exchange closing 
its doors; and the routes of many of the 
lines of street cars were changed, in 
order not to incommode the people who 
desired to congregate in Copley Square. 

In the First Baptist Church, across 
the way from the home of Bishop Brooks, 
a large congregation assembled at a sim 
ple service at the same hour when the 
funeral was being held at Trinity. 

The proposed exercises in the Old 
South were given up to allow every one 
to be present at the out-door services. 

In the Church of the Advent two re 
quiem services were held in memory of 
Bishop Brooks, the first a communion 
service at 7.30. At 9.30 o clock the 
rector of the church was the celebrant 
at a full choral service. The church 
was filled. 

A special service was held in mem- 


ory of Bishop Brooks in St. Augustine s 
Protestant Episcopal Church, Phillips 
Street, West End. 

Special memorial services were held at 
different times by the Boston Young 
Men s Christian Association and Young 
Men s Christian Union, by " clergymen 
of all denominations " in the Old South 
Meeting House, at Appleton Chapel, 
Harvard College, in the Chapel of Bos 
ton University, and in the churches or 
halls of various cities and towns through 
out New England and outside of it. In 
the service at the Old South Meeting 
House both Catholics and Protestants 
united, for the first time in the history 
of Boston. Bishop Potter, of New York, 
who had preached the sermon at the 
episcopal consecration, had intended 
to preach a memorial sermon in Trinity 
Church, Boston, on the Sunday follow 
ing the funeral, but was prevented by 
illness. Organizations, societies and 
clubs of all kinds and denominations all 
over the country held commemorative 
meetings, or passed resolutions, and the 
list of meetings business or convivial 
that were adjourned out of respect to 
the memory of the great dead would be 
a long one. All Episcopal churches 
throughout the diocese removed their 
Christmas decorations, and replaced 
them with mourning drapings. The 


colored people of Boston passed res 

At the memorial service celebrated at 
Appleton Chapel, Harvard University, 
Professor F. G. Peabody during his ad 
dress said : 

"The life of a great man has two 
sides. First, there is the public side, 
the official recognized life, the power, 
the eloquence ; and then there is the 
private side, the personal, the intimate 

" Sometimes the knowledge of a man s 
private life does not bring with it an in 
crease of love, but when knowledge of 
the inner life brings more love with it, 
then we forget the greatness of the man 
in the thoughts of his graciousness. 

" It is our peculiar privilege here, while 
the world is honoring the public life of 
a great man, to honor his private life. 

" He came to us not as an orator, but 
as a brother, a father, a helper. He 
brought us all his spiritual gifts and a 
beautiful tenderness and simpleness, as 
though he found himself here in the 
trusted circle of domestic life. 

" In the little book we have in which 
our preachers record their impressions, 
there are many observations in his hand 
writing about the privilege he felt he 
had in coming here. 



" In this chapel to-day there are many 
men who talked with him, perhaps only 
once or twice, but they feel they have 
lost a friend. As some of them have 
said, they went to him afraid of his 
greatness, and came away impressed 
with his kindness." 

A popular subscription was at once 
started for the purpose of erecting a 
statue to him in Copley Square, in 
front of the Trinity Church which he had 
loved so deeply and served so well. 




"DISHOP BROOKS, always an ex- 
*~* ceedingly hard-working man, after 
his ascendancy to the bishopric, had 
his energies taxed to their utmost ca 
pacity. He was never, however, known 
to acknowledge that he needed rest. 
His duties as bishop of the diocese of 
Massachusetts were but a small part of 
his work. Not a day passed but letters 
and invitations asking his attendance 
at banquets, clubs, and other social func 
tions were received, and it was his 
invariable rule to accept, if it was pos 
sible for him to do so. Every letter 
of whatever nature received by him 
was scrupulously answered, a private 
secretary being required after he had 
assumed the bishopric to attend to his 
correspondence. He never used postal- 
cards for any purpose. Letters came 
to him on all subjects from all parts 
of the world. 

Once while abroad he received a let- 


ter from a woman in the South who 
desired to move to Boston with her two 
children. She wrote to ask the bishop 
if he would find some nice, moderately- 
priced boarding-house for herself and 
family. The bishop sent it back to his 
secretary, asking him to make inquiries 
and forward her the desired information. 
" Be sure," wrote Bishop Brooks, " and 
tell her that the answer was not delayed 
any longer than absolutely necessary. 
Explain to her that I am in Europe." 
This woman probably never knew the 
amount of trouble she had caused the 
bishop and his secretary by her one 
simple request. 

Soon after he was consecrated, the 
bishop received a letter from a widow in 
Minnesota. She had been married in 
Massachusetts and her husband had been 
killed in the civil war. As a soldier s 
widow she was entitled to a pension from 
the government, but this she was unable 
to obtain, although none disputed the 
fact of the husband being killed in an 
engagement and while fighting nobly. 
But the poor afflicted widow could not 
prove that this man was her husband, as 
she had lost her certificate. So she 
wrote to Bishop Brooks, telling him of 
her condition and the necessity of re 
ceiving a copy of her marriage certifi 
cate. She only knew the name of the 


minister who had married her, and he 
had died. The bishop of Massachusetts 
took a personal interest in her case, and 
worked hard to obtain evidence of the 
marriage, and was finally successful, and 
she got her pension. 

Then a man down in some Southern 
State wrote to him to say that he had 
got to go to New York to get a difficult 
surgical operation performed, and had 
no money. He wanted help. The bish 
op told his secretary to write to the 
clergyman in his town to inquire about 
it, and say that if it was all right he 
would pay it. 

Then a man wrote to him to know if 
he could help him get a certificate of 
his baptism. All he could tell was that 
he was baptized in a high church in 
Montreal. The bishop showed it to his 
secretary and asked if he could do any 
thing for him ; and he sent the appli 
cant a list of all the churches in Mon 
treal and the rectors of each one, that 
he might write to them. 

Fond mothers (and they were not 
confined to the Episcopalian fold) whose 
sons were leaving home to make for 
themselves a place and a name in the 
busy city, wrote to Bishop Brooks and 
asked him to keep an eye on their boys, 
little knowing what a multitude of cares 
rested upon his broad and massive shoul- 


ders. And so on with many other 

A friend who knew Bishop Brooks 
quite well entered his study one fore 
noon. Before the great preacher lay a 
heap of opened letters. Turning in his 
chair he said, "Among all those letters 
which I have answered, or shall answer, 
not one appertains to my parish. All 
are from people outside the bounds of 
Trinity, and most of them from people 
outside of Boston. They are on all sorts 
of subjects, and several contain urgent 
appeals for money." 

He was very free with his money, al 
though he never wasted a cent, and was 
continually doing good deeds with it. 
He did them quietly, and it was seldom 
that any one ever heard of it. He was 
always thoughtful of his brothers in the 
ministry, and his sympathies for poor 
clergymen were especially tender. On 
one occasion he received a check for 
a hundred dollars from a parish in 
whose church he had preached. When 
the check came back to the drawer 
through the bank it bore the indorse 
ment of a poor clergyman in another 
part of the State to whom he had sent 
it. No one ever knew of it except by 
that indorsement on the check, which 
told the story of his generosity. 

An Episcopal chapel had been built 


in one of the remoter suburban towns, 
and the debt upon it was a heavy bur 
den. Some jesting layman, talking the 
matter over with Mr. Brooks both 
having a little personal interest in 
the village said to Trinity s pastor, 
" I will give as much as you will give 
toward the extinction of that debt." 
" Very well," replied Mr. Brooks, " I 
will give five hundred dollars." And 
the debt was paid. 

Another incident in the great preach 
er s life was mentioned as having taken 
place during a convention held in Bal 
timore. Dr. Brooks had been invited 
to preach a missionary sermon in one 
of the churches. He consented, and 
the fact being advertised beforehand, 
the church was so crowded that it 
was impossible to take up the collec 
tion. Hearing of this, Bishop Brooks 
went to the rector after the people had 
gone and said, "Well, my dear fellow, 
I am sorry to have spoiled your collec 
tion, but if you can give me an esti 
mate of about the amount you would 
have had, I will let you have my check 
for it." 

The young candidates for the clergy 
were his especial pride, and in their 
progress he had an active personal in 
terest. He helped them pecuniarily, 
had them visit him, and corresponded 


with them. He helped many a needy 
young man through college. He said 
once to a friend during one of the 
very few times when he said anything, 
however personal, in any way connected 
with his good works : " When you spend 
a night at a clergyman s house you can 
generally find out a great deal." This 
was a very pregnant remark, and it in 
timated a great line of his charity. 

It was his custom in making his visi 
tations to notice the various little things 
needed in the homes of the poorer clergy 
men where he was being entertained. 
He generally did find out a great deal, 
and what he found out he remembered. 
As a result, the poor churchman gener 
ally received just what he had needed 
and had been unable to get, and at the 
hands of the bishop. 

About two years ago a printer em 
ployed on one of the Boston daily papers 
fell sick. A subscription was raised 
among the men in his office to help 
him make a trip to California. One day 
the cashier in the counting-room called 
up through the speaking-tube to the 
foreman of the composing-room and 

" A gentleman wishes to see you." 

"All right ; send him up. I would go 
down, but I can t leave my work." 

In a few minutes the foreman was as- 


tonished to see the familiar face and 
form of Boston s great preacher enter 
ing the composing-room, four flights 
from the street, and there is no elevator 
there. Bishop Brooks said he had 
learned of what the printers were doing 
for one of their fellow-workmen, and 
made some inquiries as to the character 
of the man. He said this man s wife 
had attended his church, and he had 
learned of their misfortunes. Satisfied 
that it would be a kind act to a worthy 
man, Bishop Brooks quietly slipped a 
twenty-dollar note into the foreman s 
hand, and asked him to add that to the 
fund, refusing to allow his name to be 
added to the subscription list. 

His work among the poor and lowly 
was greater than one would dream of. 
People who had never entered his 
church, some of whom had never heard 
him preach, did not fear to ask him to 
officiate when death invaded the family 
circle, and they rarely asked in vain. 
He never refused if he had time at his 
disposal to grant the request. Once a 
gentleman who had met him, but who 
was not his parishioner and not a mem 
ber of the Episcopal Church, lost his 
little child. The father and mother 
wished to have the great preacher, the 
tender, loving shepherd of the flock, 
read the burial service over the body of 


the child. Mr. Brooks said, " I will do 
so, cheerfully, if I have time." He con 
sulted his list of engagements for the 
day. " I have just half an hour that is 
not bespoken ; if you will make your 
arrangements conform to that time, I 
will gladly be present." 

A physician tells a story of a poor 
woman who had required his services 
and to whom he had said, after several 
visits, " You don t need any more medi 
cine. What you need now is nourish 
ment and fresh air. You need to get 
out." "But I have nobody to leave 
with the children," she said. They 
were little ones, and the poor mother s 
anxiety about them had added to her 
illness. The doctor repeated, "Well, 
you must manage to get out, somehow." 
A day or two later being a sympathetic 
soul he dropped in to see if she had 
found means to obey his directions. 
She certainly had. She had told her 
need to the man who cheerfully met all 
sorts of demands upon him. He was 
there taking care of the children while 
the poor mother went out for air and 
exercise. It was Phillips Brooks ! 

A visitor to the house in Clarendon 
Street waited in the hall one day while 
Bishop Brooks finished a little talk he 
was having with a workman in the li 
brary. He went to the door with this 


visitor, a middle-aged man, who wore a 
look of relief as if he had just had a bur 
den taken off his mind. The bishop 
was saying, " Yes ; that will be your best 
way," and repeated some advice about 
the man s work and wages, evidently 
clinching advice already given. The 
man hesitated a minute, while the bish 
op s hand was on the knob, then said, 
getting his hand towards his pocket, 
" Shall I that is, how much would it 
be ? " with an evident feeling that there 
ought to be some sort of fee. And the 
bishop said, " Nothing at all nothing 
at all," so heartily and cheerily that the 
man could not possibly have felt, even 
after going away, that he had made a 
mistake in offering to fee Bishop Brooks ! 

In the broad field of labor through 
which Bishop Brooks s interests were 
distributed, very near to his heart was 
undoubtedly the work of St. Andrew s 
Church on Chambers Street. 

This mission was organized about 
seventeen years ago, and was called the 
Chapel of the Evangelists. For two 
years the work was conducted under the 
direction of Emmanuel parish, and then 
it came fully under the ministration and 
care of Trinity. After a few years of 
progress two fine buildings were erected 
on Chambers Street, where Bishop 
Brooks s ideas could be more fully car- 


ried out. Not only did he seek the 
spiritual welfare of the people who came 
under his attention, but he always 
strove to solve the industrial problem ; 
and what has been accomplished there 
shows how energetic its laborers have 
been. It was here that the first girls 
club in the country was organized, and 
its members will recall with much pleas 
ure the many happy occasions when Dr. 
Brooks entertained them with bright 
talks about his travels in foreign lands. 
The dispensary work excited his warm 
est interest, and it was through his ener 
gies that it was kept open at night to 
answer calls from the sick and suffering 
the first attempt in this city of a sim 
ilar nature. Such a work as St. An 
drew s has demanded a large outlay of 
money, and it was through his personal 
appeals and his own generous and fre 
quent donations that its present success 
has been attained. 

The Vincent Hospital, too, was an 
other branch of Trinity work in which 
he always manifested an unfailing sym 
pathy. The Guild Hall of St. Andrews 
is hung with attractive pictures, which 
were given by Bishop Brooks, and on 
festival occasions, when the big family 
was gathered there, it was his great de 
light to be present and join with the 
children in their merry-making. All 


those who have given of their time and 
service to the carrying on of Trinity s 
missions can testify to the appreciation 
of their labors by their beloved pastor. 

Two young men who had been at 
tending Trinity Church, but for some 
reason or other had ceased going, tell 
this story. They did not suppose they 
were known to the rector even by sight. 
They were rooming at the top in fact, 
in the attic of an unusually high 
lodging-house in a not very aristocratic 
quarter of the city, when one afternoon 
came a rap at their chamber door. On 
opening it, they found Dr. Brooks stand 
ing there, with his kindly smile, hand 
outstretched, and the following words 
issuing from his lips : "Well, boys, you 
did not expect to see me here, did you? " 
As usual careless for himself, he had 
climbed all the long flights, instead of 
sending for them to come down to 
him. The talk that ensued made both 
the wanderers permanent attendants at 

His attitude in respect to remunera 
tion for his work was best exemplified 
at the diocesan convention after his 
election as bishop was consummated. 
Previous to this not a word had been 
said as to salary, and Bishop Paddock 
had been receiving six thousand dollars 
and a house on Chestnut Street, owned 


by the diocese. At the convention ex- 
Governor Rice moved that the salary 
be increased to eight thousand dollars, 
the amount Phillips Brooks received 
as rector of Trinity. The bishop at 
once got a friend of his to object to 
this, and ask an indefinite postponement 
of the matter; and in deference to his 
wishes it was done. 

His private secretary once said of 
him : 

" Bishop Brooks was in the first place, 
what a number of clergymen did not 
believe he could be, a great administra 
tor. He administered the affairs of the 
diocese in a broad and warm-hearted 
manner that endeared those to him who 
were previously opposed. 

" He always found time to talk with 
any one, but never longer than the sub 
ject required. If it was a matter that 
necessitated a hearing for two or three 
hours, he would find time for it, but if it 
was only an invitation to attend some 
service, a minute sufficed to settle the 
matter. The bishop was a man who 
had a wonderful faculty for getting at 
the heart of a thing. You only had to 
make a few words of explanation, and 
he had grasped the whole matter with 
remarkable comprehension. 

" The bishop always seemed to have 
time for everything, although he was 


a great worker. I consider myself a 
pretty hard worker, but I could not 
pretend to accomplish the amount of 
work Bishop Brooks did, and he never 
seemed to be too busy, never hurried. 
He could always bear an interruption. 
Sometimes I would say, Bishop, I 
would like to talk to you about a matter 
when you are at leisure. Looking up 
he would instantly reply, Well, now is 
the best time. 

"His mind was like one great reser 
voir, always full and never needing re 
plenishing. Most clergymen have to 
labor on a sermon, but he never did. 
Bishop Brooks wrote his sermons with 
out any apparent effort, for his mind 
was full of great thoughts. He could 
write a sermon in six hours, at two sit 

" I recollect just before the first dio 
cesan convention, when I observed that 
he was not working on his address. As 
most bishops would wish to have their 
first address a particularly good one, I 
asked him one day if he realized how 
near the time of the convention was. 
He replied yes, and then I mentioned 
his address. Oh ! that will be all right, 
he replied. 

"Sure enough, a day or two before 
the convention he showed me a bound 
manuscript, which was the convention 


address. He had completed it by work 
ing an hour or so or less at a time on it. 
It was one of the grandest things I ever 
heard him deliver, I think. 

" People wonder how he stood such a 
round of Episcopal invitations and so 
much travelling. The travelling did not 
seem to tire him. It rested him. The 
time he spent on railway trains seemed 
to be a refreshment to him. I remon 
strated with him once against the way 
he was driving himself, and told him 
he did not have any time to himself. 
Why, yes, I do ; plenty of it, he said, 
with his cheery smile. I should like 
to know when and where, I said. 
Why, he replied, on the railway 
cars. And that was about all the time 
he had to himself. 

" And yet, hard as he worked, Bishop 
Brooks was happy. His life was filled 
with happiness. He loved his work 
devotedly. It was not work to him, it 
was his enjoyment. 

"He was the most unselfish man I 
ever knew. He was always sacrificing 
himself for others. Not only did he 
never speak of himself, but he never 
even thought of himself." 

He was very careful in keeping any 
appointments, and absolutely sincere in 
any expression. The response, " I will 
do it if I can," from Bishop Brooks did 


not mean, " I will do it if, at the time, 
I feel inclined," but meant the literal 
significance of the words. 

He never used the same sermon or 
address a second time, no matter how 
similar the occasions or in how distantly 
separated sections of the country they 
might be. , 

Socially he was the simplest and most 
cordial and even jovial of men. Every 
man, woman, and child who ever came 
in contact with him in any of the multi 
tudinous interests of which he was a liv 
ing part must always remember how 
completely he practisedwhat he preached 
of the gospel of sincerity and simplicity 
and love. He was a type of the largest, 
broadest, -most benevolent humanity, 
and had the keenest interest in all that 
was calculated to uplift. He thought of 
the whole human being, and studied 
him in all his various phases. He was 
easy and agreeable in his manners in 
the presence of ladies, but his meanest 
enemy if the good man had one 
would never accuse him of being a 
" ladies man." On the contrary, Bishop 
Brooks treated a woman in the same 
frank, open manner he would if he were 
talking with a man, which was always 
gratifying to the intelligent woman, wnt> 
was at once placed at her best in his 


In connection with Dr. Brooks s celi 
bacy many amusing stories were told, 
intimating that his bachelorhood was, 
to say the least, not a matter of neces 
sity. His treatment of all hints and 
remarks on the subject of the admira 
tion alleged to be heaped upon him by 
female parishioners and friends in gen 
eral, showed his innate modesty and 
avoidance of self-assertion. In tones 
of comic protestation he would say, 
" Talk about my being overwhelmed 
with slippers ! Why, often I haven t a 
pair to put on*when I really need them." 
"Ah, I suppose that s a gift from 
some admirer, Phillips ? " said his 
brother on one occasion, pointing to a 
handsome basket of fruit standing on 
the table. With an air of nonchalance, 
Dr. Brooks pushed the basket before 
his brother, saying, " They re good, 
aren t they ? Eat them, boy, eat them," 
and nothing more definite could be got 
from him. 

His love for children was well known. 
A group of children pleased him more 
than a group of elders. He could so 
easily enter into their joys. A child at 
the Church Home, South Boston, just 
fresh from reading "Jack, the Giant 
Killer," looking at his height, accosted 
him one day with these words, " Be you 
a giant?" "Yes, my dear," was the 


reply. Others would take delight in 
climbing into his lap, and he would 
show them some relic from Japan, 
which he always carried, to their great 

Helen Kellar of the blind school was 
very dear to him ; he loved to talk with 
her about the Divine Being. After ser 
vice in a church, if he knew she was 
there, he would go at once, after disrob 
ing, from the vestry room, and with ex 
tended arms most affectionately greet 
the afflicted girl. 

It is believed that a correspondence 
was kept up between Helen Kellar and 
Bishop Brooks up to the time of the 
latter s death. Bishop Brooks s simpli 
city of faith was never better illustrated 
than in his beautiful letter to Helen 
when her alert mind began to consider 
the questions of the soul and immor 

It is told of the bishop that one time, 
at some informal meeting where there 
were a great many children, he felt a 
strange sensation about one of his 
knees a queer, repeated jabbing sen 
sation. And when it came the third 
time he realized that it was external, 
and looked down to see a tiny girl 
gravely sticking in a pin. " Well, well, 
little girl, what are you doing ? " he 
exclaimed; and she lisped, "I just 


wanted to see if you s stuffed ! " His 
great size had impressed her ; her in 
quiring turn of mind proved to be an 
introduction which greatly amused her 
new friend, who afterwards did a good 
deal for the child, whose mother too 
needed help, 

It was at the Christmas sale at Trin 
ity Church. A little girl who had some 
dolls for sale begged the bishop to buy 
one from her table. Just to make talk 
with her, apparently, the bishop asked, 
" Now, what kind of dolls are you sell- 
ins: ? " " Brides," said the child. The 

O * 

bishop laughed. " Won t you have 
one ? " persisted the little girl. She 
was too young to know why the bishop 
laughed so much after her answer to 
his next question. " Now, what should 
I do with a bride ? " " Why, you could 
give her away ! " 

Said a writer in the Boston Tran 
script: "I cannot help referring to Dr. 
Brooks s superb personal unconscious 
ness, which was a rare and striking 
quality in so popular a man. I once 
witnessed a striking example of this 
quality. It was at an exhibition at 
the Kindergarten for the Blind that 
blessed institution which Dr. Brooks 
had so special an affection for. Many 
people, men and women, filled the 
rooms. Dr. Brooks had taken up poor 

Interior of Trinity Church, Boston, 


little deaf, dumb, and blind Tommy 
Stringer, who had just come to the 
Kindergarten, and who knew nothing 
whatever, but who seemed somehow to 
be aware when he had come close to a 
kind heart. He clung tightly about the 
big man s neck, like a little old-man-of- 
the-sea, and the remarkable thing about 
it was that Dr. Brooks did not seem in 
the least anxious to dislodge him, or at 
all disconcerted by his persistent atten 
tion. He went about with the poor boy 
clinging there ; he conversed with peo 
ple without any sort of embarrassment, 
and also without that superior sort of 
condescension which almost any other 
great man would have exhibited under 
such circumstances. Afterward, speak 
ing in Helen Kellar s behalf, he made 
an earnest appeal for Tommy." 

The same writer said again : " No one 
has yet fully explained the secret of Dr. 
Brooks s hold upon the great mass of 
people who were not Episcopalians, who 
never saw him in private life, and who, 
perhaps, had never heard him speak but 
once or twice. Thousands of such peo 
ple felt a sharp pull upon their heart 
strings when they heard of his death. 
Probably a little of a good many things 
went to make up this sentiment. There 
was the feeling that the bishop was not 
only a wonderfully good man, but also 


a man of hearty human sympathies, 
and without cant or pretence. But 
that was more or less an abstract sen 
timent. My idea is that a great part of 
Dr. Brooks s popularity came from the 
mere sight of the man on the street or 
in other public places ; and this is not 
in the slightest degree a depreciation of 
his greatness, for he would not have 
looked the man he did unless he had 
been the man he was. On the street 
he always had a certain splendid boyish 
unconsciousness a natural and unaf 
fected air of liking for the world and 
the people in it which, joined with 
the magnificence of his stature, impres 
sive to all except little men, made peo 
ple s hearts warm toward him definitely 
and for all time. And when these 
same people saw him once or twice at a 
public meeting of some kind, and had 
seen his perfectly fitting bearing, and 
had listened to his perfectly fitting 
words so swiftly spoken, their liking 
was re-enforced by a strong admiration. 
Every one, Anglican or not, came to 
feel a sense of ownership in him. The 
influence which he wielded by reason of 
his peculiar and gifted personality made 
his episcopal office a little thing in com 

Bishop Brooks was only fifteen years 
old when he entered Harvard College, 


and at that time he was almost as tall 
as at any period in later life, although 
he had not developed into the magnifi 
cent specimen of physical manhood 
which he presented in later years. 

Speaking of him, Mr. Robert Treat 
Paine said : " At college he cared little 
for sport, but preferred to read omniv- 
orously almost everything and anything 
that came in his way. His literary 
work was marked, even then, by the 
same incisive, thorough-going style that 
we have become familiar with in his 
published sermons, and was nothing 
less than a natural gift which he culti 
vated at college to the highest point 
that wide reading would assist." 

Mr. J. S. Ropes remembers distinctly 
the college boy s appearance at the 
initiation of the class of 57*5 repre 
sentatives into "Alpha Belt." The 
bishop-to-be was lounging on a cush 
ioned window-seat smoking his college 
pipe and watching the novitiates quizzi 
cally and quietly, till somebody had to 
break the ice. Then the big college 
student came down from his perch and 
charmed everybody with his frank, open 
personality. His manners were never 
made over to fit any new position he 
might attain, but were always* the same 
from his college days. 

One of the stories told relates to 


some of the Lenten services held by 
Phillips Brooks when he was rector of 
Trinity Church. His friend, ex-Gov 
ernor Rice, met him one morning in 
the street-car, and said, "Aren t you 
getting a little weary with the Lenten 
services ? " 

Dr. Brooks s face brightened as he 
replied, " I guess I can stand it if the 
congregation can." 

When in England, he was " com 
manded " to preach before the Queen, 
and was asked on that occasion if he 
felt afraid to do so. He replied : " No ; 
I have preached before my mother." 
When he visited England after his elec 
tion as bishop he was warmly greeted 
and honored. It was " My Lord Bish 
op" here and " My Lord Bishop " there, 
and all the sturdy Americanism of Phil 
lips Brooks rose in protest. " I am not 
a lord bishop ! " he exclaimed ; " we have 
no such titles in our country, and you 
will oblige me by not using that form 
of address." 

The following is from Miss Lilian 
Whiting : 

" When he entered upon the pastor 
ate of Trinity Church he found his field 
to lie in one of the most conservative 
and intensely aristocratic parishes of 
America. The pew-holding is from a 
a peculiar system of title-deeds almost, 


and the prevailing spirit was rather to 
resent than to invite the presence of 
strangers. A story is still told that on 
one Sunday a dame of high degree 
coming late to service found her pew 
occupied by two or three persons, al 
though there, was still room for her 
accommodation. But, to the dismay 
of the strangers, she waved them out, 
one by one, with a grand sweep of the 
ostrich feather fan which she carried, 
and left them to their fate standing in 
the aisle. The young preacher, from 
his desk, saw this performance and pon 
dered upon its significance. My in 
formant, who was also an eye-witness 
of the scene, tells me that a more in 
dignant man than the rector at that 
moment could hardly be imagined. 
From that time he resolved that, al 
though by the parish laws the church 
must still be one of rented pews, rather 
than free, it must still rise to the true 
spirit of Christian courtesy and hospi 
tality. Nor were his efforts in vain, 
and for many years Trinity has been 
noted for its marked courtesy and gen 
erous hospitality a hospitality, in 
deed, that so overflowed all considera 
tions of the right of possession that it 
came to be laughingly remarked that 
the unfortunate pew-owners seemed to 
be the only persons who could not 


be accommodated in Trinity. By the 
rector s desire a row of chairs was 
placed all around the chancel, and sev 
eral long seats placed in rows on either 
side, all free to the occupants ; and as 
many as can come and sit in my pulpit 
with me are welcome/ characteristically 
asserted the rector." 

During the last years of his life the 
members of the Harvard class of 1855, 
resident in Boston and its vicinity, were 
in the habit of dining together every 
two or three months. At these reun 
ions youth seemed renewed, and all were 
like boys again. Phillips Brooks was 
almost always present at them, allowing 
nothing but the most unavoidable en 
gagement to keep him away. In that 
room he always appeared to be the same 
charming, frank, simple-hearted boy he 
had been in undergraduate days, and 
never seemed to feel himself, or so far 
as he was concerned allow any one else 
to feel, that his rank, there or outside 
in the estimation of the world, was any 
different from that of the most insignifi 
cant or " unsuccessful " person present. 

In conversation d propos of a clergy 
man who had been detected in some 
offence and had brought himself into 
disrepute, he once solemnly said : "How 
wretched I should be if I felt that I was 
carrying about with me any secret which 


I would not be willing that all the world 
should know!" And indeed morally 
and socially he seemed perfectly trans 
parent as if one could look him through 
and through, and find nothing amiss. 

He loved and admired Richardson, 
the architect. Looking at his design 
for the Pittsburg Jail, he said in his 
presence : " What Richardson really 
likes is a jail. When he can t get a 
jail, he wreaks himself on a church." 

Towards the end of his life it was 
thought by one whose opportunities of 
judging were excellent he seemed, 
after having apparently long resisted the 
thought, to have at last yielded to the 
irresistible conviction that his position 
in, and the manner in which he was re 
garded by, the world were unusual. 
Only then did he consent to enter the 
episcopate. Yet this conviction was 
for him simply a stimulus to larger 
labor for others : it never led him to 
"give himself airs " towards them. As 
bishop he was as simple and genuine 
and unaffectedly devoted to well-doing 
as ever he had been as a boy. 

Said a writer in the Boston Globe ; " I 
stood on the curbstone on Clarendon 
Street the morning of the funeral, 
watching the great long line of hu 
manity which was wending its way to 
the west porch of Trinity Church. By 


my side was an Irishman of perhaps 
sixty years of age. Addressing me he 
said, Well, he s gone, and Boston 
never saw a better man. He was a 
good man, generous, open, and liberal. 
I can well remember him as a young 
man taking his meals at the Parker 
House. This was twenty-seven years 
ago, and at that time I was a waiter at 
Parker s. Many a time I ve served 
him. Did he remember the waiter? 
He never forgot him, and his remem 
brances were not those of a small soul, 
either. He was a lucky fellow who 
waited on Phillips Brooks. >: 

Bishop Potter once said of him : 
" I first met Bishop Brooks while I 
was a student at the Alexandria Semi 
nary. I had been there a year or two 
when he entered, and I recall a humor 
ous incident of the time. He was quite 
a tall man. When he arrived there as 
a student he was placed in one of the 
rooms of the old building, the ceiling of 
which was so low that he could not 
stand erect. I heard of the awkward 
ness of his situation, and exerted such 
influence as I possessed to secure his 
removal to a hall some distance off, 
which was known as St. John s in the 
Wilderness, and so he came to be es 
tablished there. He made a very apt 
and striking reference to this incident 


a few years ago on the occasion of my 
consecration as bishop. He said he 
hoped that it would continue to be 
Henry Potter s business to see that men 
stood up straight in the world. 

" I recall an incident illustrating his 
simplicity. A member of the semi 
nary, George A. Strong, was recorder 
at a parish at Medford, Mass., and upon 
one occasion Dr. Brooks and I were 
driving out there to see him. When 
we were crossing a railroad track one 
of the whiffletrees broke. I immedi 
ately jumped out of the carriage to 
repair the damage. But Brooks never 
stirred. There he sat looking at me 
with apparently no more concern than a 
wooden idol might be expected to have 
until, with some degree of impatience, 
I ordered him to get out and hold the 
horses heads while I was making re 
pairs. It had never occurred to him 
that he could be of the slightest use. 

" I remarked to a gentleman after 
ward, It is astonishing how little Brooks 
knows about horses. Well/ said the 
gentleman in reply, he spoke much 
more handsomely of you, for he told 
me he was amazed to see how much 
Henry Potter knew about horses. 

" I watched him with great interest 
on the occasion of the recent conven 
tion of the House of Bishops in Balti- 


more. I knew how attention to details 
and the slow progress of legislation 
would weary him. His seat was far 
back among the younger bishops, as the 
bishops are always seated in the order 
of precedence with respect to the time 
of their election and consecration. I 
was not surprised, therefore, when pass 
ing along the aisle near where he sat 
I felt some one pulling at my skirts. I 
looked around and saw it was Brooks. 
Glancing up at me in that peculiar pleas 
ant way of his, he asked, Henry, is it 
always as dull as this ? I leaned over 
and said to him, If you will be patient, 
my dear boy, you will find it animated 

" I was not surprised, in the largest 
sense of the word, to hear of his death. 
He had for so many years lived a life of 
regularity as rector, to change from that 
routine suddenly, to take up and dis 
charge the duties of a large diocese, 
involved a tremendous physical risk. 
He went into his work with his whole 

How fast the bishop talked is shown 
by the following interesting statement 
of the swiftest of English shorthand 
writers, Thomas Allen Reed, about his 
attempts to report the sermons preached 
by Rev. Phillips Brooks : " I have never, 
in a long and varied experience, listened 


i6 S 

to a public orator, whether in the pulpit, 
on the platform, or even in a law court, 
where perhaps the fastest speaking is 
heard, who kept up such a continuous, 
uninterrupted flow of rapid articulation. 
However large the building, the speed 
of delivery is the same. Even the open 
ing sentences, which many habitually 
rapid speakers will utter quite deliber 
ately, are jerked out with the most pro 
voking glibness, and the reporter no 
sooner puts pen to paper than he finds 
himself dashing forward, helter skelter, 
his energies taxed to the utmost to get 
up and maintain the necessary speed. 
He is eagerly expecting the end of the 
first sentence, where he naturally antici 
pates a pause. Vain expectation ! The 
full stop is a grammatical expression ; it 
has no reality for the speaker or the 
writer. One sentence ended, the next 
begins, and, like the Dutchman s cork 
leg, the sermon goes on the same as 

" Having recently had occasion to 
report Mr. Brooks, I have had the curi 
osity to note his exact speed. The ser 
mons were accurately timed (by two 
watches in each case), and the words, 
as they appeared in the printed report 
in the Christian World Pulpit, were 
counted. One sermon, preached at 
Caterham, lasted thirty-five minutes, 


and the average rate of speed came out 
at a hundred and ninety-four words 
per minute. But in a sermon preached 
in Westminster Abbey, Mr. Brooks ex 
ceeded even the rate of the Caterham 
sermon. Notwithstanding the size of 
the abbey, and the effort needed to 
articulate with sufficient distinctness to 
be heard, the sermon, which lasted thirty 
minutes, came out two hundred and 
thirteen words per minute. I repeat, 
then, if any aspiring young shorthand 
writer wishes to meet a foeman worthy 
of his steel (or any other) pen or pen 
cil, let him take an opportunity of 
attacking the Rev. Phillips Brooks of 
Boston, and the chances are that at the 
close of the encounter he will find the 
taking of a Turkish bath a superfluous 
operation. Fortunately for the short 
hand fraternity on this side of the 
Atlantic, Mr. Brooks does not often 
visit these shores. If he did, I am 
afraid that, instead of being cordially 
welcomed, he would be received, at 
least by the knights of the pen, with 
the greeting of the Quaker in * Uncle 
Tom s Cabin, Friend, thee isn t 
wanted here. 

His rapid delivery was one of the 
chief characteristics of the man, and 
to take him verbatim usually in this 
country required the work of two sten- 


ographers working in concert, the one 
filling in the gaps left by the other. It 
was in this way that the verbatim re 
ports of his famous Lenten noon-day lec 
tures at St. Paul s Church were made. 
His rapidity of speech was indulged in 
for the purpose of overcoming a lingual 
defect, and when he reached his topmost 
speed his effort was comparable to noth 
ing except that of a steam-engine. In 
deed, the phrase "a human dynamo," 
applied to another well-known clergy 
man, would also fit Bishop Brooks s case 
as well. Despite the rapid gait at which 
he talked, however, there was nothing 
involved or hazy about his spoken ser 
mon, and it was easy to follow his line 
of thought when one had once got used 
to his mannerisms. 

The memory of the stalwart figure 
standing in the pulpit, the rhythmic words 
flowing from his lips like a silvery cas 
cade from a mountain, the face flushed, 
the eyes flashing, and the eye-glasses 
dropping downward with the uncon 
scious twitching of the nose, will al 
ways be a pleasant and abiding one with 
the scores of newspaper men whose duty 
called them to report his utterances. 

One of the swiftest of Boston s short 
hand writers, and who has reported the 
bishop many times, said : 

" Bishop Brooks was the fastest talker 


I ever reported. So many ideas on the 
subject under treatment would float to 
the surface of his mind in a second s 
time that the tongue seemed, as it were, 
too slow a vehicle to convey them to 
his audience, and with scarcely a com 
ma s pause, the words would flow natu 
rally forth, in a manner that suggested 
to the imaginative reporter undercur 
rents of more crowded ideas, which 
must follow in rapid succession. An 
other difficulty in reporting Bishop 
Brooks was the confidential tone he 
would assume, lowering his voice to al 
most a whisper, and leaving the reporter 
to transcribe his meaning out of a sort 
of impressive, though one might say 
eloquent, rumbling sound, and quickly 
changing facial expressions, but which, 
to one in the habit of hearing him, were 
sometimes as translatable as words." 

One of the members of the Trinity 
Club, an organization composed largely 
of young men, tells the following, which 
he heard from Mr. Brooks s own lips as 
he narrated it in a moment of confidence. 
Speaking of his well-known rapidity of 
speech, he said that many people sup 
posed that it was due to a habit of stam 
mering when he was young, and that he 
avoided the defect by rapid utterance. 
Mr. Brooks said that the idea that he 
ever stammered or had any trouble 



with his speech was entirely erroneous. 
When he was young, he said, and began 
public speaking, he was afraid that peo 
ple would not hear him if he spoke at 
much length, so he used to get as much 
as possible into a short time, and this 
intentional fast speaking became by 
practice a permanent habit. Speaking 
of the diffidence he felt on entering the 
pulpit, he told his young friends that it 
was something he could not shake off ; 
when he thought what a great responsi 
bility it was to preach to such a congre 
gation, it gave him a feeling of dread 
and hesitation in the extreme. " It is 
something fearful " was the expression 
which he used. 

To the newspaper men of Boston 
Bishop Brooks naturally bore a very im 
portant relation, and, in fact, he had 
done so for a great many years. He 
was easily the foremost preacher in this 
part of the country, and his sermons and 
addresses and social functions always 
had a conspicuous place in the printed 
news of the day. 

No one had more respect for him 
than the newspaper reporters, and yet 
he was one of the most unapproachable 
men from the standpoint of the inter 
viewer. He would always treat a news 
paperman in a pleasantly dignified way, 
but would seldom say anything for pub- 


lication, his nature seeming to rebel 
against this particular form of publicity. 
Before Dr. Brooks became bishop, 
his photographs, though much in de 
mand, could not be had by every one. 
He was much averse to having them 
placed on public sale, and once, when he 
was asked to allow some to be sold at a 
fair in aid of St. Andrew s mission, he 
showed some disinclination to comply, 
and remarked that they would not real 
ize much. This was met with the state 
ment that it was expected that about fifty 
dollars would be the result of such a sale. 
The next day Dr. Brooks sent his check 
for fifty dollars to the managers of the 
fair, but the photographs were not forth 
coming. At length he was prevailed 
upon to sit for his picture, and just be 
fore Christmas in 1887 he sat to a pho 
tographer in the Studio Building. Three 
positions were taken, and all were per 
fectly satisfactory, but the picture which 
proved the most attractive to the public, 
and the one which his parishioners 
greatly admired and were eager to pos 
sess, is the one showing the full face. 
During the eight months subsequent to 
the development and finishing of the 
negatives, more than three thousand 
photographs were sold. Two orders 
were for five hundred each. There has 
been a large sale ever since of all three 


positions, but the one especially sought 
after is the front position. In June, 
1891, a private business arrangement 
was entered into with the photographer 
whereby a royalty was to be paid on 
each picture of the bishop sold, the pro 
ceeds to be used for mission purposes. 
This arrangement has been carried out 
according to the wishes of the bishop 
and his associates. 

Whether a similar arrangement was 
entered into with the London photog 
raphers, who secured two fine negatives 
of the bishop while in England last 
year, is not known. Probably not. One 
of the pictures taken by the London 
artists represents Dr. Brooks sitting in 
a chair, with an open book on his knee ; 
the other shows him standing. Both 
are considered good likenesses. Con 
spicuous on each photograph are the 
lines, " The Lord Bishop of Massachu 
setts, the Rt. Rev. Phillips Brooks, D.D." 

In the August, 1891, number of Sttn 
and Shade is a beautiful reproduction 
of a photograph of the bishop standing 
in his library, a copy of the picture 
taken by Dr. Mixter. 

A photograph from a painting of Dr. 
Brooks by Wallace Bryant, made in 1891, 
is published. 

There are undoubtedly other photo 
graphs of the bishop, copies from origi- 


nals, etc., other than the above and 
those reproduced in this volume. 

One of the earliest incidents of Dr. 
Brooks s pastorate at Holy Trinity, 
Philadelphia, was the flurry of alarm in 
1862 over the menace to that city from 
the near approach of the Confederate 
army. When the "three-months men " 
were called out and the available forces 
remaining in the city were gathered 
together to protect the Quaker town, it 
was the stalwart figure of the young 
rector of Holy Trinity which was seen 
in the van of those marching out, shovel 
on his shoulder, to throw up protecting 
earthworks in front of Philadelphia. 

Bishop Brooks, before he was conse 
crated to the episcopate, was generally 
known as a representative in Massachu 
setts of the " broad-church " party as 
opposed to the " high-church " tenden 
cies. One day Dr. Brooks was walking 
in a long procession "of. clergymen who 
were attending some church festival of 
considerable importance. Beside Dr. 
Brooks in the procession walked a 
short, thin priest, Dr. Spalding. Dr. 
Spalding was at that time an extreme 
high churchman. As the procession 
moved along and approached the robing- 
room, Dr. Spalding looked up at Dr. 
Brooks, who towered above him, and 
said : " You are, after all, Dr. Brooks, 


in some respects at least a high church 
man." " Yes," replied the rector of 
Trinity, glancing at his own enormous 
physique and then looking at the thin- 
chested man beside him, "but in no 
sense can you be called a broad church 

Just after the close of the war, it will 
be remembered that there was a com 
memoration meeting at Harvard Col 
lege. Phillips Brooks was asked to de 
liver the prayer. Colonel Henry Lee, 
the Harvard marshal for that day, said, 
"The services on that occasion were 
not equal to what men felt. Every 
thing fell short, and words seemed to 
be too weak. Phillips Brooks s prayer 
was an exception. That was a free 
speaking to God, and it was the only 
utterance of that day which rilled out 
its meaning to the full extent. Low 
ell s Commemoration Ode was great, 
and so was General Devens s speech, but 
Mr. Brooks surpassed them both." The 
eager inquiry of that day "after that 
prayer was " Who is Phillips Brooks ? " 
It was the first time that he had ap 
peared before the most distinguished 
audience that could be collected in New 
England ; and from that moment the 
growing thought at Trinity Church was 
to call Phillips Brooks to be rector of 
that church. 


The following characterization is from 
a brilliant article in the New York Trib 
une, in 1884 : " He is a Brahmin of the 
Brahmins so far as the intellectual caste 
of the man is concerned; and yet his 
individuality is crowded with perplexing 
contrarieties, for there is not a trace of 
his New England lineage to be found in 
an analysis of his springs of action or 
the outgrowth of his professional life. 
For while the New England cultus is 
cool, dry, crystalline, and rhythmic, his 
is hot, heady, effervescent, daring, spon 
taneous. Boston is Scandinavian, dashed 
with Teutonic. Mr. Brooks is half Med 
iterranean, half Oriental. He is severely 
scholastic in his discipline, but a tropical 
exuberance of glowing effervescences, 
with the hidden fire of compressed 
metaphors, pre-occupies and kindles his 
utterances. The New England ideal 
never loses sight of self, is always at 
home with a stately deference for the 
conventionalities of schools and society, 
while Mr. Brooks is verily possessed 
with an imperious and tremendous dae 
mon, as Plato interprets, and so is ac 
countable to no man or precedent." 

Said the Boston Transcript, in one of 
its editorials : " The famous John Cot 
ton, minister in Boston in old England 
and New England, in whose honor our 
city was named, was a worthy ancestor 



of Phillips Brooks; the famous Phillips 
Academy was founded by another an 
cestor ; the bequest from which have 
been made the statues of Winthrop and 
Samuel Adams was given to the city by 
another ancestor. But the greatest gift 
to the city from any of his family was 
Phillips Brooks his own life and ex 
ample, to which the good citizen, inde 
pendent of city, State or national boun 
daries, rising above all differences of 
religious creeds, pays universal homage 
to-day. Such homage proves that ma 
terialism has not swallowed up this 




A MONG the many thousands of people 
* who will regard the death of Bishop 
Brooks as a personal loss are the busi 
ness men of Boston whose privilege it 
was to attend the noon-day services in 
St. Paul s Church during the penitential 
seasons of 1891 and 1892, when he de 
livered two series of sermons remarkable 
alike for their fervent piety and for their 
adaptability to the every-day life of the 
busy men to whom they were addressed. 
All shades of belief were represented at 
these meetings, and many of the most 
interested listeners to the solemn truths 
he uttered probably had no settled reli 
gious convictions. But so broad was 
the mantle of Christian charity which 
he offered them, that it is doubtful if 
even the most intolerant sceptic did not 
find them suited to his needs. If any 


cavillers yet remained, the bold chal 
lenge was sent forth in the most meek 
and modest manner that the speaker 
himself would gladly listen to any ob 
jections that could be made to the doc 
trines which he taught, let them come 
from what source they might. He even 
went further than this in his famous 
declaration that he had as much respect 
for the opinions of the honest unbe 
liever, and could regard him with as 
much toleration, as though he was a pro 
fessor of his own faith. Little wonder 
was it, then, that _men who seldom or 
never attended church flocked at the 
busiest hour of a busy day to listen to 
one who welcomed them as sons of the 
same Father and brothers of the same 
Redeemer. To many it was a revela 
tion that the greatest bishop of a great 
church could so near approach his Mas 
ter in meekness and humbleness of 

But these men were probably not more 
astonished and delighted than were those 
whose walks in life had been among the 
familiar paths of church dogma and 
creed. They learned many of them 
for the first time that the great repre 
sentative of a church, which they had 
been taught to believe was made up of 
forms and ceremonials and rituals, cold 
and conventional, regarded all these 


symbols of little consequence as com 
pared with the vital truths of Christian 
ity. With an eloquence and fervor that 
carried conviction to every mind, he 
swept aside as of little consequence 
everything that had not for its essential 
the all-pervading love of the Saviour of 
the world for all mankind under what 
ever circumstances or in whatever con 
dition of life it might be found. All 
that was essential in Christianity was 
that there should be some one to re 
ceive it. The Church was, to him, an 
organization through the medium of 
which revealed religion could be taught 
and disseminated ; a religion that could 
be found in all its integrity as readily in 
the humble little chapels of the primi 
tive Methodist as in the great temples 
of Episcopalianism ; in the rude bar 
racks of the Salvation Army as in the 
sumptuous cathedrals of the Holy City. 
No wonder, then, that clergymen and 
laity, churchmen and non-communicants, 
believers and unbelievers, united in these 
services, and approved of the great and 
unanswerable truths announced. 

He even went a step further in his 
broad and comprehensive liberalism and 
in his belief in the infinity and pres 
cience of God. It was not necessary, 
he said, in the divine plan of salvation 
that the sinner should consciously seek 


God. And to emphasize this belief of 
his, he used the startling and striking 
metaphor of the prisoner in a dungeon 
cell so completely shut out from the 
light that he knew not of its existence. 
It was then that Bishop Brooks, in a 
great burst of eloquence, described as 
only he could describe the desperate 
seeking for the light that was so ne 
cessary for his very existence by the 
poor benighted wretch. He knew not 
whether it was night or day ; but there 
was that craving within him for the 
unseen light that with desperate energy 
he tore at the rough walls of his cell 
till the blood flowed from his lacerated 
fingers, and he sank exhausted, disheart 
ened at the hopelessness of his ever 
reaching what his inner consciousness 
told him must exist, for it was essential 
for his growth and happiness. All this 
time, on the outside of these walls, the 
bright rays of the sun were seeking for 
the man who needed them so much. 
Every crevice between those great 
stones was filled with light and sun 
shine, which insinuated its life-giving 
properties into the most remote place 
in that gloomy mass of rock. The light 
which the prisoner sought so blindly, 
unconscious that it even existed, was 
as persistently seeking him. Such, said 
the preacher, is the relative position of 



the sinner and his God. Knowing noth 
ing of the existence of the Divine Mercy 
so essential to his salvation, the poor 
outcast is not deserted, for his God, like 
the sunlight of heaven, is constantly 
and persistently seeking him. 

At such moments as these it seemed 
as though the great preacher was in 
spired, and men looked at him and won 
dered. Everything that he said evi 
dently carried conviction to their souls. 
He pleaded with them only as a man 
thoroughly in earnest could plead, to 
lay aside their vices and tricky business 
methods, and become Christians. He 
pointed out to them the satisfaction and 
peace of mind that would come from 
leading a grander and better life. He 
told them it was no hardship to be a 
Christian ; it was a pleasure and a de 
light, and his beaming, smiling coun 
tenance, as he made these appeals, told 
how completely happy he himself was. 
Christ, as he described him in these 
discourses, was not a mean and humble 
appearing personage, but so grand and 
lofty and magnificent that should he 
walk through the busy marts of trade 
all men would recognize in him the 
Saviour of the world. 

During the two series of sermons St. 
Paul s Church was crowded long before 
the hour for the services to begin, and 


the rapt attention that accompanied 
every word that was spoken was the 
strongest commentary that could be 
made on the earnestness of the speaker 
and the conviction that his words car 
ried to the hearts of men. 




HP HE following appeared in The Boston 
* Transcript : 

To most men it would be a suffici 
ent task to fulfil the exacting require 
ments of such a pastorate as that of 
Trinity. Add to these requirements a 
wide range of philanthropic sympathies 
and endeavors, and also a very consider 
able amount of literary work, and the 
most energetic of men might consider 
that his powers were fully exercised. 
Phillips Brooks, in addition to accom 
plishing all this work, and accomplish 
ing it most effectively, found time to 
make his influence felt at Harvard as 
no other preacher ever did. 

It is of this latter work that the 
writer wishes to speak. During his 
junior and senior years he became very 
familiar with the sight of Phillips Brooks, 



both in the chapel pulpit and upon the 
college campus. Many a morning, after 
chapel, one might see President Eliot 
and the great divine crossing the quad 
rangle together, or coming down the 
avenue in front of Gore Hall. Presi 
dent Eliot is himself a tall and stalwart 
figure ; but he was completely dwarfed 
by the great bulk and towering height 
of his companion. Clad in a volumin 
ous ulster, with a large broad-brimmed 
silk hat tipped back a little on his head, 
and usually with a big walking-stick 
under his arm, Dr. Brooks strode along 
in Brobdingnagian ease, looking like a 
walking tower. His face in repose sug 
gested benevolence and placidity rather 
than power, and irreverent college 
younglings used to comment wittily 
on his habit of keeping his mouth ajar 
as he walked along. He was usually 
wrapped in profound abstraction, often, 
it is said, passing his best friends with 
out recognition. 

The system of "preachers to the uni 
versity," which was established at the 
time referred to, was an attempt to 
supply what was felt to be a most seri 
ous lack in Harvard life. Dr. Brooks 
was one of those who had implicit 
faith that plenty of spiritual life lay 
dormant in the college ; and he of all 
men did the most to call that spiritual 


life into conscious power and activity. 
The old notion that the students were 
like the inmates of Dotheboys Hall, 
and that the alma mater was a sort of 
Mrs. Squeers whose pleasant duty it 
was to call them up and dose them with 
the brimstone and treacle of compulsory 
religion, gave way at length to more 
enlightened ideas. Faith in the better 
nature of man, and in that craving for 
the bread of life which the husks of 
dogma will not satisfy, was the basis of 
the new movement. Compulsory pray 
ers were abolished. A number of emi 
nent preachers took turns in leading 
morning devotions, and the present 
system of university preaching was 

The system is merely this, that some 
well-known preacher is invited to con 
duct morning prayers every day for a 
month, and during that month he also 
preaches each Sunday evening in Apple- 
ton Chapel ; and on every week-day dur 
ing the month, from nine o clock in the 
morning until noon, he may be found 
in a study set apart for that purpose, 
where any student who may desire to 
consult him on any subject will be sure 
of a cordial welcome and friendly coun 
sel. During his month the preacher is 
said to be " in residence." Invitation 
is extended, in the college bulletin, to 


all who choose to seek the acquaint 
anceship or assistance of the preacher. 
Thus, as month follows month, and one 
eminent preacher follows another, an 
unusual and valuable opportunity is af 
forded for students to get personally 
acquainted with men of wisdom and 
spiritual power. The students avail 
themselves freely of this privilege, and 
there can be no doubt that much good 
has resulted from it. 

The writer well remembers the day 
when he sought the comfortable, attract 
ive parlor in old Wadsworth House and 
knocked at the door. A hearty " come 
in " responded, and in a moment he 
stood face to face with Phillips Brooks. 
A cordial grasp of the hand, a few sim 
ple, kindly words of greeting, and the 
visitor felt quite at home. During the 
half-hour of conversation that followed 
much was said which will always remain 
with the student as both a pleasant 
memory and a valuable acquisition. 

Theological doctrines were the nat 
ural subject of our talk. Suggestions of 
doubt and difficulty in regard to current 
dogma were met by sympathetic insight, 
by patient logic, by eloquent illustra 

" We all know," said Dr. Brooks, 
" that life is a tangle of mysteries, 
that the simplest phenomena of nature 


baffle us completely when we attempt 
to explain them. Men differ, and al 
ways will differ, about a thousand minor 
matters relating to religion and the 

" But difference is not tolerated in 
ecclesiastical circles," was demurred. 
" We are told that certain beliefs which 
we find revolting to our reason must be 
accepted, if we would be identified with 
Christianity and Christian people." 

The great brown eyes kindled, and a 
glow of enthusiasm lighted up the ear 
nest face. 

" Christianity is reasonable, or it is 
nothing. It cannot conflict with reason ; 
it is a supplement to it. The truths of 
salvation best appeal to the heart. 
Sweep away sophisms and intricacies 
and ask yourself, What is Jesus Christ 
to me and to my life ? " 

" But a belief in miracles is not a 
trivial matter, nor can the reason be 
ignored in examining it. We either 
believe them or do not believe them. 
Many of us find it impossible to accept 
them on any terms." 

" Miracles ! " he exclaimed. " How 
many stumble over them, yet how simple 
and natural they are, and how unim 
portant ! " 

He clasped his knee and rocked back 
and forward, speaking at full speed, and 


swaying his head as the torrent of words 
fell from him. 

"Miracles are marvels. Anything 
that we don t understand is a marvel; 
My power to produce fire by scratching 
a match is a tremendous marvel to any 
savage. From his standpoint I am 
actually possessed of the most unques 
tionable power of performing miracles. 
Whence comes my power ? From my 
superior nature, from my higher devel 
opment, from my better understanding 
of the laws of the universe. Given my 
higher development, and you would ex 
pect to find me able to do things mirac 
ulous, or marvellous, to the savage on 
his lower plane. So, given Jesus Christ 
and his vastly higher development, his 
immeasurable superiority to the wisest 
and best of us, we should expect to find 
that he had a grasp on laws of which 
we know nothing, and to be able to per 
form things wonderful in our sight. A 
man is not saved by his belief in mira 
cles no man ever was no man ever 
will be. Speaking for myself, the mir 
acles of the Old Testament have very 
little significance to me ; I have no be 
lief in them, and consider them of very 
little importance. The miracles of Jesus 
seem to me very reasonable and prob 
able, though I cannot say that I con 
sider them of any vital importance. 


That Christ rose from the dead, I most 
earnestly believe, and I believe that he 
became the first-fruits of those who will 
rise to immortality and the presence of 
the Father. That is the vital question, 
my friend. What is Christ to you and 
your life ? That Christ should work 
miracles is to me the most natural thing 
in the world. But what are outer mir 
acles compared with the wondrous mir 
acle of transformation which he can and 
does work in poor, weak, sinful human 
hearts ? Christ in us, and we in Christ, 
and the immortality of love and worship, 
these are the vital things. It is this 
co-relation of the human and the Christ- 
like which has made him the Redeemer 
of men. I have no patience with carp 
ing criticisms, while the essential, vital, 
redemptive truth is wholly overlooked. 
But there is nothing coercive in Chris 
tianity, no fettering of the best and 
highest thought of which we are capa 
ble, no overriding of our common-sense 
or manly freedom of thought and utter 
ance. It chains us, not by force, but 
by attractiveness. It subdues us be 
cause we yearn to be subdued by its 
power. The Divine in us reaches up 
ward, and the divine above reaches 
downward, and the two mingle, and that 
is a living faith in a living Christ." 
To have omitted all the punctuation 


points from the above quotation would 
better have represented the rapidity and 
breathlessness of its utterance. The 
exact words that he used are not 
quoted, but the thoughts are substan 
tially recorded. 

Much more was said, but to the same 
purpose. Nothing simpler or more un 
assuming could be imagined. Two stu 
dents at ease in their own room could 
not have discussed any subject more 
freely. I think that Dr. Brooks was 
incapable "of talking down" to any 
human being. He was always the 
friend, the modest counsellor, the 
affectionate elder brother. 

The influence of such a man at Har 
vard was tremendous and was much 
needed. That intellectual paralysis 
and moral dry-rot which some of its 
wretched victims complacently style 
"Harvard indifference" could not en 
dure the presence and inspiration of a 
man like Phillips Brooks. One of his 
last efforts was an appeal to educate 
young men to do something. He 
lamented that so many delayed enter 
ing upon the fight of life until they had 
passed the first flush of youthful ardor. 
Do something, he adjured them, do 
something, do something ! It was his 
last appeal to young men. 

Many who visited him in the parlor of 



the Wadsworth House carried away a 
lasting impression of reverence and admi 
ration. He was practical as well as spir 
itual. One student came to him with a 
practical difficulty a controversy in 
which he was engaged with some other 

The facts were stated. " What shall 
I do about it ? " inquired the student. 

" Weed yourself out of the matter for 
a moment, and then see how the case 
stands. After that, if you are still in 
doubt I shall be glad to give you any 
advice I can." 

No further advice was needed. 

Another student, to whom Dr. Brooks 
quoted Christ for guidance in an affair 
of every-day life, hinted that this was a 
practical matter. The great preacher 
looked at him a moment, and an 
amused twinkle came into his eye. 

" I have always regarded Christ as 
an eminently practical man," said he 

The student retired with some food 
for thought. 

Dr. Brooks was not lacking in humor. 
It is said, I know not on what author 
ity, that in lecturing before a class of 
theological students one day he con 
fessed that making pastoral calls was a 
difficult matter, requiring much tact, 
and often giving rise to perplexing situ- 


ations. Fond mothers, he said, would 
sometimes thrust their babies upon his 
notice, and he felt that he must compli 
ment the little one or grieve the fond 
parent. But one s stock of praises soon 
runs out, and there are dangerous possi 
bilities of invidious discrimination in 
praises. It is not always easy to think 
up just the right thing on the spur of 
the moment, especially if the baby hap 
pens to be unprepossessing. He had 
adopted one simple formula. When 
the baby was produced, he looked at it 
and exclaimed, " Well, that is a baby ! " 
This was strictly true in every case, and 
he never knew it to fail of giving satis 

It is fitting that Harvard men should 
bear the bier of the loyal son of Harvard 
who did so much to show his filial grati 
tude. His place will not be filled. Such 
men are not found often. His influ 
ence will be long in fading from the 
minds and hearts of Harvard men. The 
serene yet enthusiastic nature of the 
man will be an eternal legacy to the 




UNLESS it bring with it a sense of 
keen personal pain to the individual 
mind, the death of no man, however 
great, is genuinely mourned. How fares 
it with each one in person ? Is the 
world distinctly the poorer and more 
prosaic to you yourself for this death ? 
Has it left you bereft of a great inspira 
tion to joy, love, and hope ? Apart from 
the distinct, sorrowing yes ! to these 
questions the yes ! spoken out of tens 
of thousands of sincere hearts all in 
vain will the newspapers drape their col 
umns in black and call upon the entire 
community to mourn. The community 
as a community, like the corporation as 
a corporation, has no heart to mourn 
with. It can issue the command for 
splendid public obsequies, and bring out 
trains of hired mourners in crape, but it 


cannot cause one genuine tear to flow. 
Only the tears of each separate man or 
woman of a mighty host swell into the 
flood which attests as reality the grief 
of the actual community these sorrowers 
themselves aggregate into. 

When the intelligence of the death 
of Bishop Brooks was suddenly flashed 
out on the bulletin-boards, it caused a 
quick, startling arrest on the busy streets. 
Men and women spoke with bated breath ; 
their voices were choked with emotion. 
" We have lost him ; we have lost him ; 
we shall never see or hear him again on 
earth ! " was the universal exclamation. 
Not one of a thousand of these men 
and women had ever spoken a word with 
the great preacher, or ever expected to. 
But none the less the sense of personal 
loss, the sense of something priceless 
gone out of their individual lives, was 
sadly there. Where, then, lay the secret 
of all this? 

A great deal of vague and profitless 
talk is indulged in over what is termed 
the quality of "personal magnetism" in 
a man. Here is one of those accepted 
phrases that are made to take the place 
of adequate thought, and to explain 
without the need of explanation. Will 
not the currents of the magnetic battery 
cause the nerves to quiver and the mus 
cles to contract, even in a dead body ? 


Well, in the same way one man is mag 
netic, while another is not ! Why not 
rather say one man has fervid passion, 
and another not ; one man glow of hu 
manity, and another not ; one man a 
torrent of thought, emotion, imagination, 
and divine vision, and another not. No 
sham fire ever warmed a man, no painted 
food ever nourished him. Mass and 
momentum of being alone never threw 
vast throngs into sympathetic vibration 
with itself. 

"The tragedy of life," says Emerson, 
" lies in the poverty of human endow 
ment." Yes, in the poverty of human 
endowment, in the sadly self-confessed 
reality that men and women in the aver 
age have such puny bodies, such scant 
affections, such feeble grasp of thought, 
such torpid imaginations, that nothing 
inspiring is begotten of them here 
lies the tragedy of human life. And 
yet there goes along with this self-con 
sciousness in countless minds an un 
speakable yearning for a richer and 
diviner experience. Ah ! if they could 
love more ardently, think more vigor 
ously, see more glorious visions of faith 
and cheer. For lack of those their daily 
round is so largely a dreamy treadmill 
to them. In sad depression they re 
spond to Tennyson s words : 


" Tis life, of which our nerves are scant, 
Tis life, not death, for which we pant, 
More life, and fuller, this we want." 

Then in some happy hour these nerve- 
scant men and women find themselves 
brought into contact with a battery of 
life like that which was coiled away in 
Bishop Brooks. The superb body, with 
such tides of ruddy blood circulating 
through every artery and vein, the great 
brain,teeming with such freighted wealth 
of ideas, the immense emotional power 
flowing out like a fiery lava flood, the 
splendid spiritual imagination glorifying 
with a celestial "light that never was 
on sea or land" the commonest details 
of life, the capacity for breathless ado 
ration which makes the presence of God 
or Christ ecstatic passion to him 
here is the living, breathing image of 
what every poor, halting, half-made shred 
of humanity yearns for in his own heart 
of hearts. And the grand, unconscious 
man, wholly lost in his divine message, 
believes in it for them all, however 
narrow now in intellect or cramped in 
spirit. Health and vigor ! Whole 
oceans of it are in God, in store for all 
who seek it. Range of mind ! Not the 
high seraph s mighty thought, who 
countless years his God has sought, can 
faintly image forth what lies before each 
soul made in the image of the eternal 


reason. Love ! It will flood in, tide on 
tide, as revelation after revelation of the 
Divine Fatherhood breaks through eter 
nity upon each passionate heart. 

No wonder the auditors of such a man 
are swept away. He is doing for them 
what they cannot do for themselves 
charging them with the fervor of his 
own love, opening out to them his own 
glorious vistas, lifting them up on the 
wings of his own soaring imagination. 
And, best of all, he is doing it by 
quickening into action their own latent 
religious powers, by bringing into con 
sciousness their own hidden spiritual 
endowment. Apart from the contagion 
of this great glowing man of being, 
they may not be able to keep up of 
themselves this sense of exaltation. 
But how great a thing do they feel it, 
what a beatitude never to be forgotten, 
to have been even for once in a lifetime 
lifted into such a higher realm of con 
sciousness, and so made alive to what 
there really is within their being, which, 
under more favoring conditions than 
here on earth, God may lift to higher 
reaches ! 

This, then, and this alone, explains 
the sense of personal loss, of genuine 
private grief with which thousands re 
ceived the intelligence of the death of 
Bishop Brooks. It was the grateful, 


unselfish tribute of the consciously halt 
and maimed and blind to one created so 
much more fully and grandly than them 
selves in the image of God ; to one who 
all unconscious of it himself, was yet 
living prophecy to them of what, in the 
endless resources of God, shall be the 
final inheritance of all struggling souls. 




TN writing these words about my 
* friend Dr. Phillips Brooks, I shall not 
pander to the curiosity which hungers 
for personal details, but shall mention 
those large and sunny qualities of heart 
and mind which make Dr. Brooks one 
of the most enviable and one of the 
most widely loved of men. 

He was born in Boston on December 
13, 1835, and is therefore fifty-five years 
old. He went to Harvard University, 
where he graduated in 1855 ; and, 
after taking his degree, he studied at 
a divinity school in Virginia, and was 
ordained in 1859. From 1859 to 1869 
he labored in Philadelphia, and partly 
as rector of the principal church in that 

i This chapter, written by the Venerable FREDERICK 
W. FARRAR, D.D., Archdeacon of Westminster, appeared 
In an English journal for young men in 1891. 


city. In 1869 he was called to Boston, 
and for twenty-two years he has been 
rector of Trinity Church, in the city of 
his birth. The church is by far the 
finest ecclesiastical building in America, 
and was designed by an American 
architect of genius, Mr. Richardson, 
whose premature death was universally 
lamented. The church holds upward 
of two thousand people ; and, as Boston 
is considered to be the most intellectual 
city in America, it is probable that the 
congregation to which Dr. Brooks has 
preached for so many years is repre 
sentative of the best culture of the 
great Western Hemisphere. The mem 
bers of that congregation are devotedly 
attached to their eminent pastor. It is 
undoubtedly the case, as Professor 
Bryce observes in his great work on 
America, that the average American 
clergyman is better off than the average 
English clergyman. Any rector who, 
like Dr. Brooks, has won the attach 
ment of his hearers, is sure to be the 
frequent recipient of such generous 
acts of kindness as are exceedingly rare 
in England. A few years ago, thinking 
that he looked a little tired, some mem 
bers of his parish met together, and at 
once begged of him to leave them for a 
year, and to travel in Europe and India, 
without once thinking of them; they 


offered to pay all his expenses for the 
year, and also to pay and provide for 
his substitute during his absence. The 
generous and noble offer was, I believe, 
at once declined, except so far as leave 
of absence was concerned ; for Dr. 
Brooks has always been in comfortable 
circumstances, and is still a bachelor. I 
told him that in England a clergyman 
might be worn out with overwork, and 
his face assume a deathly pallor, and 
that yet, in thousands of parishes, it 
would not occur to those for whom he 
was spending and being spent, to come 
forward with such spontaneous consid- 
erateness. "Oh," he replied, laughing, 
" it was only because they were tired 
of me, and wanted a little change ! " 

When I was in America I was twice 
the guest of Dr. Phillips Brooks in his 
beautiful and delightful home in Claren 
don Street, Boston. That home is full 
of objects of interest which he has col 
lected in his travels, and is replete with 
comforts ; but the infinite charm of its 
hospitality depends on the unaffected 
kindness, the rich culture, and the never- 
flagging brightness of spirit which char 
acterize the host himself. 

Surrounded by admirers, he is wholly 
unspoiled by their adulations. His in 
vincible manliness rises superior to all 
mere flattery, while he enjoys as any 


good man may well enjoy all honest 
and sincere appreciation. Dearer to 
him than the applause of thousands is 
the undying attachment of a small circle 
of intimate friends ; and no one who has 
met him in the familiar intercourse of 
this happy circle is likely to forget the 
Sunday evenings which he has spent in 
the rectory of Holy Trinity, Boston. 

But all America knows and loves and 
is proud of Phillips Brooks. I travelled 
with him to various large towns, and it 
was delightful to see the enthusiasm 
which his presence evoked in every 
audience ; for his face and figure are uni 
versally known throughout the United 
States. He is a man of magnificent 
physique, at least six feet four high, 
and of proportionate mould. Ordinary 
men look mere children beside him. 
Whenever I appeared with him on any 
platform, there was sure to be a call for 
him, and this was most of all the case 
when he visited any university ; for 
young men usually know a man when 
they see him, and Phillips Brooks is 
every inch a man. There is nothing 
artificial about him. 

The most cultivated and the ablest 
preacher in America, he is wholly free 
from self-consciousness, the artificial 
mannerism and the petty pomposities 
which mark the commonplace ecclesias- 



tic in every country. He always acts 
and speaks like a man among men, and 
the youths of America, to whatever 
religious denomination, they may belong, 
recognize in him a man who feels a 
deep sympathy with them in all their 
temptations and difficulties, and who 
has set them an example of that stain 
less chivalry and large-hearted tolerance 
which marks the* true gentleman and 
the true Christian. 

If there be any living man whose 
mere presence seems to dispel all acri 
mony and cynicism, it is he. He enjoys 
life with all the heartiness of a boy, and 
in this respect he resembles Dr. Nor 
man McLeod. He has travelled widely, 
carrying everywhere a quick power of 
observation and a receptive spirit. Be 
fore he dies he hopes to have seen at 
least something of most regions of this 
fair world. The heat of summer and 
e arly autumn in the American cities is 
so intense that the great majority of the 
worshippers in the Episcopal churches of 
wealthy districts and the poor are 
mainly Roman Catholics spend some 
months among the mountains or by the 
sea. Many churches are closed, or have 
fewer services for an inappreciable frag 
ment of their usual congregations. 
This is the reason why American cler 
gymen can travel far more than we can. 


In any ordinary gathering of a hundred 
English clergymen not more than two 
would have visited America; in any 
ordinary gathering of a hundred Ameri 
can clergy and I met such gatherings 
frequently there would scarcely be 
one who had not visited England. Few, 
however, have had the delights of such 
extensive journeys as have fallen to the 
lot of Dr. Phillips Brooks. 

Dr. Brooks, like Robert Browning, 
"believes in the soul and is very sure 
of God." He has the keenest interest 
in the rising generation, and envies 
them the share which they will have, as 
"the trustees of posterity," in a future 
which he not only views without alarm, 
but with the most glowing spirit of 
optimism. He thinks that the progress 
of the human race, in all things beauti 
ful and noble, has all the certainty of a 
law. While he has rejoiced as it has 
been given few to rejoice, in all the rich 
beauties of a useful and honored life, 
his one regret is that the brevity of life 
will prevent him from witnessing the 
beauty of those far horizons, which, as 
he believes, will unfold themselves be 
fore the happy eyes of those who are 
young now. The age through which 
we and he have lived has been a very 
wonderful age ; but he thinks that its 
wonders are but preludes to those thai 


lie just beyond the entrance door of the 
age which is to come. 

Sympathy for all that is human, sunny 
geniality, unquenchable hopefulness, de 
light in all that is good and beautiful, a 
quick sense of humor, a large breadth 
of views, and the difficult combination 
of intense personal convictions with 
absolute respect and tolerance for the 
views of others, are the distinguishing 
features of his intellectual and spiritual 
character. They give to him the per 
sonal fascination which not even his 
opponents can resist. The High Church 
party in America look on his views 
with scant patience, and he has had to 
bear the brunt of their bitter criticisms ; 
yet when one of the Cowley Fathers 
was elected to a bishopric, he found a 
supporter in Dr. Brooks, who knows 
that opinions must differ, and that there 
is room for diversity of methods and 
views in the divine charity of the 
Church of God. He is one of those 
man to whom the Americans apply the 
epithet " magnetic," and his very recent 
election to the bishopric of Massachu 
setts was received with a perfect storm 
of enthusiasm by men of all shades of 

In England he was first heard in 
Westminster Abbey and in St. Marga 
ret s church. In St. Margaret s many 


of the first men in the kingdom came 
to hear him. He has since been invited 
to preach before the Queen and at both 
the Universities. Many of those who 
have listened to his large utterances 
must have felt that if we had even four 
or five such men as he in the Church of 
England, the atmosphere of her eccles 
iastical assemblies would be more sunny 
and less suffocating than it sometimes 
tends to become. But I cannot recall 
the name of a single divine among us, 
of any rank, who either equals him as a 
preacher, or has the large sympathies 
and the rich endowments which distin 
guish him as a man. 

As a preacher, he is marked by a cer 
tain fervid impetuosity, which reminds 
the hearer of an express train sweeping 
all minor obstacles out of its path in its 
headlong rush. His utterance is ex 
ceptionally rapid. He speaks many 
more words in a minute than our most 
rapid orators, and reduces reporters to 
absolute despair. This is so far a de 
fect that it is exceedingly difficult for 
the hearer to keep pace with the se 
quence of his thoughts, conveyed, as 
they often are, in language of great 
beauty. The term " popular preacher" 
is mixed up with so many connotations 
of superficiality, of effeminacy, of van 
ity, of emptiness, of verbosity, that any 


one to whom it is applied may well re 
gard it as a term of humiliating insult. 
But Dr. Brooks is most popular as a 
preacher, and yet has gained his popu 
larity by qualities the very opposite of 
those which are supposed to attract con 
gregations of young ladies and enrap 
tured devotees. He is thoughtful, plain 
spoken, fearless, essentially manful, and 
entirely alien from the petty tricks and 
intrigues which are too often visible in 
the favorites and fuglemen of parties. 
I have no space to enter into his style 
or his theology ; but if my readers wish 
to be brought face to face with teaching 
which is profoundly and genuinely reli 
gious, with no trace of artificial scholas 
ticism, or the phrases and shibboleths 
and half-truths of party theology ; if we 
want to know something of Christianity 
as Christ taught it, before it was cor 
rupted by a thousand alien influences 
of sacerdotalism and ecclesiasticism, let 
them read the books of Dr. Phillips 
Brooks on " Tolerance," and on the 
" Influence of Jesus," or his three vol 
umes of sermons preached in English 
and American churches. Such books 
may serve to sweep away many cobwebs, 
and to show them that, as the great di 
vine, Benjamin Whichcot, said, "Reli 
gion means, above all, a good mind and 
a good life." 




Noluimus Episcopari te : 

" Shepherd and bishop of our souls ! " we said 
When men gave thy name for the vacant see, 
"Thou shalt not leave thy people!" yet thou 

went st. 

So long had we abundantly been fed 
On goodly pasturage, and snugly fenced 
In our own fold, that selfishness was bred; 
Like those in Jesh-urun we kicked against 
The course that called thee to a broader field; 
This was our error, for a power like thine 
Should not be bounded by one flock and sealed 
To special service; therefore we resign 
Our claim, and like good Christians cheerly cry 
" Give thee good bishopric ! but not good -by." 

MAY i, 1891. 




WAR . 13 



LIFE 55 

1HE true future does not re 
peat but enlarges the pres 
ent. And every present 
which accepts this law ac 
cepts with it its appointed work, to 
gather the stones and the timbers for 
the temples which the future is to 
build. It makes this the principle on 
which it proceeds in training a new 
generation. It disciplines the child 
with reverence, as destined to a com- 
pleter life than the parent. It tran 
scends selfishness, and prejudice, and 
jealousy, and, with a large and lov 
ing hope, a complete faith in human 
progress, it imagines no perfection for 


inspiration and Crutb. 

itself except this relative one of perfectly 
filling its place in the gradual perfection 
of the whole. 

You will see how this truth, which 
makes the teacher in this great world- 
school always recognize that the scholar 
is to have larger work than his to do, 
will make all education of necessity a 
profound and thorough thing. It insists 
on teaching principles and truths, and is 
not satisfied with just imposing forms. 

WE look back over history, and we 
see the same sight always. Wherever any 
age has given its successor nothing but 
forms and institutions ready-made, the 
new age has not merely made no ad- 

BDucatton. 3 

vance upon the old ; it has invariably 
shrunk and shriveled till it lived a life 
too small even to fill the narrow limits 
which its father claimed. But wherever 
any age has given its child an education 
in any vital truths, the child has always 
taken those truths, developed them into 
an effectiveness and built them into a 
beauty that the father never guessed. 

THE Jew was so used to the sublime 
thought of human life held fast in the 
hands of the Divine authority, shaped 
into gradual rectitude by the continual 
pressure of command and prohibition ; 
the decalogue so supremely represented 
to him the first thought of religion, that 
his prayer for a new generation s relig 
ious life touched of necessity first of all 

4 Inspiration anfc 

upon the moral side, the keeping of the 
commandments of the Lord. And here, 
I take it, the Jew simply conceives the 
course of all successful culture. 

THE order of the Testaments is not an 
accidental, but an essential order. Cal 
vary, in its idea, in its divine conception 
was "from the foundation," long before 
Sinai ; but in man s apprehension of 
them, Sinai antedated Calvary by fifteen 
hundred years. The conscience must 
bow itself to the supreme " Thou shalt " 
and "Thou shalt not" of authority, be 
fore grace can enter in to win the heart 
with the gentle persuasiveness of its 
"Believe and live." John the Baptist 
must preach repentance before Christ 
can proclaim regeneration. 

je&ucation. 5 

GOD wastes no history. In every age 
and every land He is working for the 
elucidation of some moral truth, some 
riper culture for the character of man. 


GOVERNMENT is an incor 
porated, an embodied truth. 
Get any high idea about it, 
get beyond the thought that 
a nation is just a multitude of men 
who have happened to come together 
in a certain country, and who have 
bargained among themselves not to 
hurt each other, not to rob and kill 
each other, and you must come to 
this, that every nation is a divine utter 
ance before the world of certain prin 
ciples, of providence, of brotherhood, 
of justice, of the divine and human lives. 
The highest conception of the state, as 
of the world, is that it is an uttered 
thought of God, a certain colossal utter 
ance of truth. 

8 inspiration an& Grutb. 

THE healthy state, like the healthy 
human body, can tolerate nothing within 
it that will not become part and parcel 
of itself, ready to share its fortunes, 
ready to do its work. A scholarship 
which tries to live in the state and yet 
not be of it, setting itself apart, fastidious, 
critical, captious, however thorough or 
elegant it may be, is mischievous. The 
politician who lives the life to which all 
politicians tend, of isolation from the 
common public interests, thinking that 
the state and government are things for 
him to use, and not that he is their 
instrument; that they exist for him, not 
he for them, he is a terrible curse 
always. May God rid us of him speed- 

A GREAT public life moving healthily 

State. 9 

will warn us of any coming dangers, as 
the ocean itself rings the storm-bell that 
tells of its own tumults. 

THE time has . . . passed when a Sun 
day-school book need count it unworthy 
of its pages to help some boy in the city 
or on the prairies to gather up, with the 
love of the Lord who is to save him, a 
love of the land he may be called to die 
for, and of all the great race to which, 
if he lives at all worthily, his life is to be 

I PLEAD with you for all that makes 
strong citizens. First, clear convictions, 
deep, careful, patient study of the gov 
ernment under which we live, until you 
not merely believe it is the best in all 

10 f nspiration anO Grutb. 

the world, but know why you believe. 
And then a clear conscience, as clear in 
private interests, as much ashamed of 
public as of private sin, as ready to hate 
and rebuke and vote down corruption in 
the state, in your own party, as you 
would be in your own store or church ; 
as ready to bring the one as the other 
to the judgment of a living God. And 
then unselfishness: an earnest and ex 
alted sense that you are for the land, 
and not alone the land for you ; some 
thing of the self-sacrifice which they 
showed who died for us from 61 to 65. 
And then activity : the readiness to wake 
and watch and do a citizen s work un 
tiringly, counting it as base not to vote 
at an election, not to work against a bad 
official, or to work for a good one, as it 
would have been to shirk a battle in the 
war. Such strong citizenship let there 


be among us ; such knightly doing of 
our duties on the field of peace. 

A STATE is not merely an idea, or an 
accident, or a machine, but is a being 
with the privilege of force. 

SOMEWHERE, sometimes, it will assert 
itself strongly in the action of the world. 
Busied mostly within itself, in its own 
self-regulation, in the development of 
its own resources, and in the extension 
of its influence through the peaceful 
machineries of commerce and negotia 
tion, there must be in it a power to 
enforce itself at the call of justice upon 
the unwilling action either of its own 

12 Inspiration an& 

subjects who separate themselves in re 
bellion from it, or against other nations 
who wantonly set themselves in the way 
of its just growth. 

SINCE truth lives in outward struc 
tures, and embodies itself in govern 
ments, it has not merely its spiritual 
relations to wills, but its physical rela 
tions to actions. It is hindered not only 
by unconverted hearts, but by armed 
rebellions. And so it has a right and 
need to say not merely to the will 
" Believe," but to the action " Submit." 
It has not merely its higher functions of 
persuasion, but its lower functions, too, 
of force. 


H, how alike all history seems ! 
How old, and yet eternally 
how new, these elementary 
emotions are ! How the 
first instincts that make men fight for 
freedom, and good government, and 
truth, last on from age to age ! old and 
yet ever young, like the eternal skies, 
the ever self-renewing trees, the gray 
and child-like sea ! 

DISPERSING armies and hanging trai 
tors, imperatively as justice and necessity 
may demand them both, are not the kill 
ing of the spirit out of which they 


1 4 Inspiration and Crutb. 

IT is not the least of the debts that 
we owe to our Union soldiers that their 
very graves are vocal that though dead 
they speak to us still. 

THE men who from the bloody shore 
of the Rebellion embarked into the other 
life have left their foot-prints inefface 
able upon the margin where they planted 
them, and made it recognizable and dear 

IT is because in them, in what they 
were and what they did, the best of our 
national character shone out, that these 
soldiers have won a dearness and a per- 

Idar. 15 

manent memory that do not belong 
merely to their personality. The nation 
honors in them its truest representatives. 
The real life of the land sees in them the 
ideal life which is the true outcome of its 
institutions. They were the flower of its 
principles, and so it sprinkles its memo 
rial flowers on their graves. 

IT was a noble gift of Providence that 
in one man [Washington] should be 
comprised and pictured, for the dullest 
eyes to see, the majesty and meaning of 
the struggle that gave our nation birth. 

OH, the mysterious power of a death 
for a noble cause ! The life is truly 
given. It passes out of the dying body 
into the cause, which lives anew. 

1 6 Ungpiratton an& Ucutb. 

WHEN the great ship had hardly 
rounded into port; while, standing on 
the shore of peace, we felt the solid earth 
still rocking under our feet with the re 
membered heaving of the sea, they who 
had watched and labored for her safety 
through the nights and storms out on 
mid-ocean, one by one, as if their work 
was done, began to pass to their reward, 
and to what other tasks we cannot know, 
awaiting them in other worlds. What 
have they left behind them, they and the 
humbler dead whom votive monuments 
and tender hearts remember still in every 
town and hamlet of their land? Not 
only what they did, not only even what 
they were, but new tasks like their own 
for us who stay behind them. They did 
not merely clear the field of treason. 
By the same labor they built up a new 
possibility of national character and life. 

War. 17 

They were like the men who, in these 
stony pastures of Andover, clear the 
rough field of stones and build the gray 
wall that is to surround and shelter it, 
out of the same material, at the same 

time By purer social life, by finer 

aspirations, by more unselfishness, by 
heartier hatred of corruption, let us be 
worthy of them, and in our quiet duties 
build the true memorial to the characters 
of those who found their duty in the 
camp, the prison and the field, and where 
they found it did it even to the death. 
They saw that their country was like a 
precious vase of rarest porcelain, price 
less while it was whole, valueless if it 
was broken into fragments. What they 
died to keep whole, may we in our seve 
ral places live to keep holy ! So may 
we be worthy of them. 

l & Unsptration anD Gru*b. 

As the merchant, the scholar, the 
statesman, the diplomatist represent the 
other elements of power in the state, by 
which she impresses her will upon other 
wills ; so the soldier represents the ele 
ment of force by which she must be 
ready to rule action without ruling will 
when the clear need shall come. 

A MERCIFUL Providence kept our first 
history from becoming a military history. 
And if we ask how Providence did this 
good work for us, the answer can be only 
in the way in which God made the 
thought and the devotion of the time so 
strong that force was always kept in its 
true place, their servant. 


His [the Puritan soldier s] was the 
great, homely, intelligible utterance of 
strength, ringing out clear and sharp in 
the midst of the often thin and over- 
subtle theologizings of the time, as the 
dazzling and bewildered atmosphere 
compresses and discharges its electri 
city in the piercing lightning and the 
pealing thunder. 

WHEN we look at Washington, we are 
at once struck by seeing how in him, 
who represented as a military man the 
force of the new ideas which were at 
work, we have also as a thinker, as a 
statesman and political philosopher, the 
clearest example of the reason of which 
that force was the expression. Often 
the two are disunited. One man does 
the thinking, another man does the fight- 

20 Inspiration anD tTrutb. 

ing. One man develops the idea in the 
closet, and another makes it forcible 
upon the field. Rarely have the two so 
met in one man. Washington was at 
once the clearest thinker and the most 
effective soldier of our Revolutionary 

NEVER was there a fighting-man with 
less of the purely military passion. He 
was the armed citizen, armed for a cause 
that belonged to the very essence of his 
citizenship. When that cause had tri 
umphed on the field of battle, he laid 
down his arms and was the unarmed 
citizen, the citizen, the same man still 
contending for precisely the same cause 
on the field of statesmanlike debate for 
which he had fought at Trenton and 
suffered at Valley Forge. 


TRUTH in her armor is apt to be a 
very clumsy giant. Men will forget or 
deny what must be our belief all through, 
that the divine mission of force implies 
that force has no mission save for divine 
tasks, none for the mere brutalities of 
selfishness, or ambition, or jealousy, or 
worldly rage; none for the mere punc 
tilios of national dignity. 

FORCE has no right here in the world 
except as it is simply truth in armor. 

THE presence of the distinct military 
element, the ruler of, or the slave of, but 
not a part of the nation, not bound up 
in the nation s fortune, nor sharing the 
nation s feeling, not springing from the 

Inspiration anfc Grutb. 

nation s heart, this is what has made the 
weakness, and at last brought the death 
of many a noble nation, both of the old 
and of the modern times. May God 
save us from it forever. 

IT is not necessary to excuse all our 
people s early or later treatment of the 
Indian. From earliest to latest from 
the Pilgrim times down to the Indian 
policies of these last days there is too 
much that never can be excused. 

WE are suffering to-day [June 5, 1864], 
whatever be the secondary causes, for 
the violation of two of God s great moral 
laws, the law of the sacredness of govern 
ment and the law of the brotherhood of 

War. 2 3 

man. Gradually, grandly, from between 
these fearful wheels that drip with blood, 
are being ground forth into shapes which 
men s eyes, quick-sighted with anxiety, 
must see, these two eternal ordinances 
of God, that government has a divine 
right to be honored, and that man has a 
divine right to be free. Those two 
truths, burned into the very fibre of our 
people as they walk the fire, are to be 
the great moral acquisition of American 

Is there one of us that can look about 
him and think without a shudder of an 
other generation of our people working 
out this same education that we are go 
ing through ? What ! all these fearful 
years again? Again these battles that 
the eye cannot count or the heart re- 

24 Inspiration anD rutb. 

member? Again this waste of precious 
blood, this bitter hatred, these wild 
blazings-up of the devilish in man, this 
land with State on State where the har 
vests find no room to grow for the 
crowded graves? Must it all come 
again, this dark Egyptian Passover- 
night of history, wherein God leads the 
bondmen out, and, in all the stricken 
land that held them slaves, leaves in 
their deliverance " not a house where 
there is not one dead " ? We have no 
right to leave a chance behind us that 
this work will have to be done again. 
But it must be, unless we can bring out 
of it all, clearly and definitely and forever 
settled, and lay down before the next age 
of Americans, the truths of national au 
thority and human liberty, to be the 
materials out of which it is to build the 

War. 25 

A TRUTH starts on its way across the 
world, sent by God to possess the world ; 
and that truth meets its obstacles, ob 
stinate and resisting men. It lays itself 
against the wills of those men. By 
every method of approach, through the 
affections and the conscience and the 
sense of beauty, and in every other way, 
it tries to get power over those wills and 
make them yield to it. It tries to rule the 
will and so to reach the actions which 
will be spontaneously obedient when the 
will has once submitted. It largely suc 
ceeds. That is the success it most de 
sires. But when its efforts of persuasion 
and conviction have failed to remove any 
one obstinate enemy out of its path, 
what then? Surely, unless physical 
force be of a wholly immoral nature, we 
must believe that God has so arranged 
his universe that this beleaguered and 

26 f nspiration and 


hindered truth may claim the powers 
that can compel the action even when 
they cannot turn the will, and force out 
of its way an enemy who will not turn 
into a friend. 


j O ! it dawns upon you that the 
Church is not to be made, 
that the Church is here al 
ready. In the aggregate of 
all this Christly life you have the 
Church of Christ, just as truly as in 
the aggregate of human existence you 
have humanity. One has no more 
to be made than the other. Both exist 
in their components. 

THE Romish idea is that the Church 
thinks and struggles and receives help 
and revelation. The Protestant idea is 
that thought and struggle and help and 
light come to the Man. 

28 Inspiration an& tttutb. 

THE living souls must go before the 
living Church, which has no life except in 
them. . . . Churches live in their souls. 
O, the old struggles, so endless and so 
fruitless, that history has to show, of men 
and times that tried to keep a Church 
alive without caring for the life of souls ; 
men and times which seem to have 
strangely fancied that there was a certain 
power of vitality in the very Church it 
self, so that every soul on earth might 
cease to receive inflow of Christ and yet 
somehow the Church live on ! It is the 
danger of the ecclesiastical spirit. It is 
the danger for all Churchmen and all 
Church times to fear. 

THE Church, whose purpose in being 
is merely to feed her children s life and 

Cburcb. 29 

so increase her own, may harm the very 
life that she was meant to cultivate. 
This is nothing strange. Nothing is so 
likely to stop a stream of water as 
the broken or displaced fragments of 
the very earthen pipe through which it 
was meant to flow. 

IF a Church, in any way, by hindering 
the free play of human thoughtfulness 
upon religious things, by clothing with 
mysterious reverence, and so shutting 
out from the region of thought and study, 
acts and truths which can be thoroughly 
used only as they are growingly under 
stood, by limiting within hard and mi 
nute and invariable doctrinal statements 
the variety of the relations of the human 
experience to God, if, in any such way, 

3 Inspiration and 

a Church hinders at all the free inflow of 
every new light which God is waiting to 
give to the souls of men as fast as they 
are ready to receive it, just so far she 
blinds and wrongs her children s intelli 
gence and weakens her own vitality. 
This is the suicide of Dogmatism. 

IF, again, a Church, in any way, sets 
any technical command of hers to stand 
so across the path, that a command of 
God cannot get free access to the will of 
any of the least of all God s people ; if 
there be, as there has been again and 
again, a system of ecclesiastical morality 
different from the eternal morality which 
lies above the Church, between the soul 
and God, a morality which hides some 
eternal duties and winks at some eternal 

Cburcb. 3 1 

sins, just so far as there is any such ob 
liquity turning aside the straight, bright 
ray that is darting right from the throne 
of the God-soul to the will of the Man- 
soul, just so far the Church maims and 
wrongs her children s consciences, and 
weakens her own vitality. This is the 
suicide of Corruption. 

AGAIN, if the symbols of the Church, 
which ought to convey God s love to 
man, become so hard that the love does 
not find its way through them, and they 
stand as splendid screens between the 
Soul and the Love, or have such a pos 
itive character of their own, so far forget 
their simple duty of pure transparency 
and mere transmission, that they send 
the Love down to the Soul colored with 

3 2 ffnspfration an> Grutb. 

themselves, formalized and artificial; if 
the Church dares either to limit into 
certain material channels, or to bind to 
certain forms of expression, that love of 
God which is as spiritual and as free as 
God, then yet again she is false to her 
duty, she binds and wrongs her children s 
loving hearts, and once again she weak 
ens her own vitality. This is the suicide 
of Formalism. 

THE time must come when Religion 
shall no longer make artificial virtues 
and vices of her own, and when with more 
unsparing tongue she shall detect and 
praise or denounce those virtues and 
vices which are essential and eternally 
the same. Then a thousand rills of life 
will be open into her which are closed 
to-day, and she will live a thousand-fold. 

ftbe Cburcb. 33 

OF the essential life of the Church, of 
the truly living Church, what can we say 
but this, that it is that which most com 
pletely feels that it was made for men, 
not men for it ; which, therefore, lives 
only as it lives in them ; which strives for 
nothing but to open more and more the 
channels of life from Christ to them? 
In such a church and such a church 
alone can be real unity. To be full of 
such a care for, and spirit of servantship 
to, the human soul, is the only power 
that can keep our own Church one in 
the midst of all her distractions. No 
outer bond of history or government can 
permanently hold her. Only this com 
mon purpose, freely working in the 
Church at large, can keep the true or 
ganic unity of life, which is the only 
unity worth having. The live pome 
granate holds itself together with no 

34 Unsptration an> Grutb. 

string tied round it. The dead pome 
granate cracks and breaks. No tight 
est string can hold it. The Living 
Church of truth, obedience, and spiritual 
love, will guard its own integrity. The 
disintegration of error, corruption or 
formalism, what compactest system can 
withstand ! 

THE Church does not become the 
world s savior by furnishing it with a 
powerful police. 

THE true relations between moral law 
and religious life are certainly not so 
difficult as men have made them. Moral 
action is, in one sense, the end ; that is, 
it is the necessary result of religion, not 
its final purpose. In another sense, 
moral law is the means by which the 

Cburcb. 35 

religious impulse steadies and supports 
itself, and mounts to higher spiritual 
heights. In this last sense, it is the very 
highest order of machinery, but it is 
machinery still. So that even if the 
Church were, what she has tried to be 
often, and has sometimes been to some 
extent, the great Reformer, breaking 
down sins, turning wrongs into rights, 
ruling men s actions everywhere ; glori 
ous as such a sight would be, it would 
not be the Church communicating life. 
She would be purifying and cultivating 
her own life. She would be making the 
world ready for the life she had to give 
it, but not giving it yet. 

WONDERFULLY adapted to be the 
channel of the highest devotion, the 

3 6 Inspiration and Gtutb. 

deepest utterance of faith, submission 
and repentance, the very perfect ma 
chinery of Christian living, the Church 
system is dead without some power of 
Christian life. 

So again of every sacred rite which, 
through the senses, opens a way for 
power to reach the heart. It is ma 
chinery still. The sensuous impression 
may make the soul receptive, no doubt 
it does, to some of the more external 
messages of God. But the impression 
itself is not soul-life. It is not a new 
birth, though its frightened or ecstatic 
shiver is easily enough mistaken for an 
other Genesis. 

tTbe Cburcb. 37 

WHO of us has not seen, nay, who of 
us in the deader moments of his parish 
life has not done, Church work enough 
Sunday-schools, Bible-classes, night- 
schools, parish visiting, mothers meet 
ings and reading-rooms and all that 
which he knew was only the mechanical 
whirling of the spindles by hand, with 
the vital fires utterly gone out in the 
furnaces below. 

WHAT shall we say of Preaching? 
Only that if men can preach, and preach 
the very truth of Christ, year after year, 
and yet souls, thirsty for the water of life, 
sit at the dry mouths of their well-built 
channels and thirst in vain for help and 
salvation, then it must be that the mere 
telling the Truth as the mind can under- 

3 8 flnspf ration anD ftrutb. 

stand it and the lips can speak it, is not 
necessarily the communication of the 
Gospel Life. 

THE Church . . . needs more of the 
Lord ; more knowledge, more obedience, 
more love of Jesus Christ. Unless we 
get that, and make that bear upon men s 
hearts and souls, we may chant our own 
sweetest praises in their ears, and our 
appeal for sympathy will be only very 
piteous. It will sound to the world as 
the plaintive cries of the Church do 
sound to many men under their windows, 
like the beggar s violin, which neither 
claims tribute by the right of a gov 
ernor, nor wins acknowledgment by the 
skill of an artist, but only extorts charity 
by the forlornness of the mendicant. 



IF behind muscles, and blood, and 
brain, you know that there is a vital 
force, which utters itself through them, 
but which is another thing than they, 
which would live even if they were dead, 
then it is not strange to say that behind 
all morality, and order, and rites, and 
work, and preaching, there is a vital 
power of the Church, which utters itself 
through them, but which is another thing 
than they, without which they were dead, 
but which might live though every one 
of them should die. That life-power is 
Christ always entering into the Church, 
as truth, and guidance, and love ; and 
always passing out from the Church into 
humanity by the otherwise dead func 
tions, vitalized by Him, of teaching and 
government, and active work. 

4 Inspiration an& TTrutb. 

As in the world of science men fear 
materialism which would crowd spirit 
and vital force out of the universe, and 
make all life exist and spread itself in 
the mechanical arrangement and re 
arrangement of material atoms ; so there 
is always fear, and never more fear than 
now, of an ecclesiastical materialism, 
which shall make little of spiritual force, 
and try by the mechanical arrangement 
and re-arrangement of ecclesiastical 
atoms, of dioceses, and conventions, 
and canons, and rubrics, and the like, 
to make the dead world live the life of 
God. Such a materialism turns ma 
chineries from being the homes into 
being the tombs of force, and makes us 
dread each step we see it take in ad 

Cburcb. 4 1 

IF ever our Church goes back, and 
cumbers herself with the precedents, and 
submits herself to the influence or author 
ity, of the English Church, her power in 
this land is gone. She must be part and 
parcel of this people. She must be in 
heart and soul American, or she is noth 
ing. She must have her sympathies 
here, and not across the sea. She must 
have her gaze and enthusiasm fixed upon 
the future of America, and not upon the 
past of England. 

WE can conceive of a parish going on, 
the same parish still, though thought 
shall change and all religious speculation 
flow in new channels. But if men s souls 
cease to repent, and trust, and live by 
the divine communion, all is gone ; the 

4 2 Inspiration an& rutb. 

Church is dead ; the spiritual building 
crumbles in decay. 

I KNOW that you will more than ac 
cept under the great, glowing, all-em 
bracing hospitality of this bounteous 
roof [that of Trinity Church, Boston], 
you will enthusiastically assert, that such 
a Church as this has no right to exist, or 
to think that it exists, for any limited 
company who own its pews. It would 
not be a Christian parish if it harbored 
such a thought. No, let the world come 
in. Let all men hear, if they will, the 
truths we love. Let no soul go unsaved 
through any selfishness of ours. 

THIS is the modern notion of a Church, 
not luxury, but work. 

Cburcb. 43 

ANY man or any institution which 
attempts a great religious work in behalf 
of the growing generations of a country, 
must undertake, as preparatory to it, and 
as a necessary part of it, a great moral 
work as well. A faithful ministry, we 
hold, must not merely declare the Savior, 
but must attack and beat down those 
special sins which stand in the very door 
ways and keep the Savior out of the 
hearts of men. 

THERE are cases in which the move 
ment of the will is everything; where to 
move action without moving will is to 
fail entirely. In such cases there can be 
no room for force. This is why our 
Lord, founding a religion whose whole 
life was to be in converted wills, found 

44 Inspiration an& tlrutb. 

no place in its establishment or propaga 
tion for the sword. 

THE Church has been spread by force, 
but Christianity never. To try to think 
of extending a faith by force, is to try 
to think a contradiction. It is like 
thinking of raising enthusiasm with levers, 
or crushing genius with sledge-hammers. 
The tools have no relation to the mate 
rial or the task. 

I LOOK round on the work to do, and 
I do not believe that either Episcopalian- 
ism or Methodism or Presbyterianism 
or Baptism is going to assert the victory 
of Christianity over sin, the opening of 
the barred citadel of wickedness in this our 

Cburcb. 45 

land. The Church of Christ, simple, un 
impeded, armed powerfully because 
armed lightly, the essential Church of 
Christ must make the first entrance. 
Then let us have up our methods of de 
nominational government, and each, in 
the way that he thinks most divine, strive 
for the perfected dominion of our one 
great Lord. 

JUST as in God s great sea there is a 
tide-power and a wave-power, and both 
are the outputtings of the one same 
force ; just as neither denies the other, 
each lends the other impulse ; and the 
qujck waves, which fall like lashes, and 
the slow, heaving, laboring tide, have 
both their work to do in the eternal bat 
tle of the sea upon the land : so it is not 
inconceivable that in the Christian world 

4 6 Inspiration anO Crutb. 

there may be a church-force and a de 
nomination-force, which yet are both the 
expression of one same purpose and de 
sign of Deity. 

THE waves that crest themselves with 
angry foam, and beat and beat and beat 
from sunrise round to sunrise endlessly 
upon the stubborn beach, are the most 
visible agents of the work that is done. 
But who will find anything but thankful 
ness, if once in every world-day the great 
hand of the Maker and the Watcher is 
put down under the great mass of the 
sea itself, and the deep tide of -Christian 
law and Christian truth, with all the 
waves running their eager races on its 
bosom, is driven, mightily, silently, far 
ther up than any wave had reached upon 
the conquered shore? Who will com- 

Gburcb. 47 

plain if Christian union, for certain pur 
poses, in certain efforts, develops a new 
sort of power that the narrower individu 
ality of denominational life has not at 

THE everlasting principle remains, that 
no moral authority or doctrinal correct 
ness or spiritual impulse can last from 
generation to generation unimpaired, un 
less it incorporates itself in some recog 
nized manifestation, and yields to the 
crystallization which its essential life de 


1HE countless assaults of a 
speculative time, testing 
every approach, bringing 
the manifold artillery of 
modern knowledge to bear, calling 
both the frivolity and the earnestness 
of our strange age to its aid, enlisting 
an internal treason as well as an exter 
nal enmity no wonder that they 
make the boldest fear sometimes. The 
rain is descending, the floods are coming, 
the winds are blowing and beating, and 
when loose houses are sliding off the 
slippery sand on every side of them, no 
wonder that the dwellers in the house 


5 Inspiration an& rutb. 

upon the rock, with dazzled eyes, think 
sometimes that they see their own foun 
dation waver. And yet the case does 
not seem hard to understand. 

CHRISTIANITY is one and everlasting. 
Its work of salvation for man s soul is 
the same blessed work forever. But its 
relation to the world s life at large must 
be forever changing with the changes 
of that world s needs and seekings. 
The larger applications of Christianity 
must of necessity be from time to time 
readjusted, and in their readjustments its 
power may be temporarily obscured or 
unrecognized as it passes into new forms 
of exhibition. Is it strange, then, in a 
day of readjustments such as ours, when 
so many forms are going to pieces, so 

Scepticism. 51 

many old relations broken up and 
changed for new ones, when so many of 
the accidents of Christianity are being 
taken down, that men should be ready 
enough to think that Christianity itself 
is worn out and obsolete? 

WE feel no doubt of the eternal issue. 
Our faith in Christ comes not from 
seeing how men treat Him, but from 
reading what God says of Him and feel 
ing how He works. We are sure of the 
end ; that all this overturning, overturn 
ing, overturning, must bring at last the 
day of Him whose right it is. 

MEANWHILE, what can we do but 
keep alive by earnest and continual 

5 2 Inspiration anfc 

utterance those truths which we believe, 
no matter how utterly men may disown 
their names, are doing the work of the 
world all the while ? This is one of the 
great values of such a time, that it sifts 
and ordinates truths, and makes us find 
out which are the few precious ones 
that we will not let go at any risk. 

AND when we look about and ask, 
How can we best preserve these truths ? 
I think there can be but one answer. 
The highest truth has always found its 
own best guardians. Christ Himself 
pointed to the younger generation thc.t 
was growing up about Him, and declared 
its hands to be the place where His gos 
pel would be safest, purest and most 
fruitful. Other years have their work to 

Scepticism. 53 

do old age, and middle manhood, and 
the fresh enterprise of originating youth. 
But, after all, these are not the surest 
guardians of truth. 

THROUGH the life of every people 
winds an endless procession, which ap 
pears to totter with its feebleness, which 
again and again is lost out of sight 
among the hurrying crowd that seems to 
tread it under foot, and yet whose tiny 
hands bear safest and most pure forever 
the sacred treasures of all time. And 
if you once get a truth into the circle of 
that endless childhood, it makes its way 
to unfound hearts, and, through the 
crazy passions and cold bigotries of life, 
wins for itself an influence which men 
feel because they do not fear. 

54 Inspiration anD Crutb. 

IT was not far from the time when 
this Church [Trinity Church, Boston] 
was founded, that Bishop Butler wrote 
in England words which seem strange, 
I think, to us as we read them now. 
He said, " It has come to be taken for 
granted, by many persons, that Christi 
anity is not so much a matter of inquiry, 
but that it is now at length discovered 
to be fictitious." And, after all that, see 
what life came out of what men called 
dead. A great many people are saying 
now what people used to say in Bishop 
Butler s day, but it is no truer now than 
it was then. 


JHERE are two souls in the 
world, the soul of God and 
the soul of man ; no other. 
.... The God-soul is the 
centre of all things. The souls of men 
stand around and gather all their culture 
and their growth from it. 

No enumeration of qualities or facul 
ties of matter accounts to us for physical 
vitality ; and no description of man taught 
and ruled and loved by God, makes clear 
to us that life of God imparted to man 
which we call holiness. Only this we 
are sure of, that all Spiritual Life, whether 


5 6 inspiration an& Crutb. 

in these its elements, or in this subtle 
force which blends the elements into a 
true vitality, is an inflow from the soul of 
God into the soul of Man. " 

LIFE can only be truly communicated 
by truly living methods. Nothing else 
will do. This takes all power away from 
mere machineries from the highest to the 

THAT is what we want, strong, deep 
convictions which are unshakable, and 
then a glad and constant expectation of 
new and richer light from God forever ; 
a perfect assurance of the safety of the 
ship in which we sail, and then a perfect 
willingness to sail into whatever new seas 

Xife. 57 

God may open to us ; an absolute cer 
tainty of the sufficiency of Christ, and 
then a passionate desire that no Christ 
of our own fancy may satisfy us, that He 
may show Himself to us more and more 
completely as He really is ; the rock un 
der our feet and the limitless air over our 

THROUGH our fathers wisdom and 
devotion, we must become wiser and 
more devoted^ than they. Friends, we 
must rise to thoughts beyond our fathers, 
or we are not our fathers worthy chil 
dren. Not to do in our days just what 
our fathers did long ago, but to live as 
truly up to our light as our fathers lived 
up to theirs, that is what it is to be 
worthy of our fathers. 

5^ flnspfration anfc Grutb. 

THOSE be our prayers: More 
strength ; more light. More constancy ; 
more progress. 

THE man of the nineteenth century 
thinks very differently irom the man ol 
the eighteenth, but the love with which 
he worships God, is the same love. The 
Evangelical has different dogmas from 
the old Georgian Churchman, but they 
bow before the same mercy-seat, and 
resist the same temptations by the same 

A MAN is always more precious than 
his work. 

EVERYWHERE, always, good culture 

OLffe. 59 

and the championship of principles be 
long together. 

THAT men should be true to their best 
convictions, and to their simple duty, 
this is the blessing that gives all bless 
ings with it, and is the fountain of all 
charity and progress. 

IT is Truth that we want in every de 
partment of our life. In State and 
Church we need it, at home and on the 
street; in the smallest fashions and in 
the most sacred mysteries; that men 
should say what they think, should act 
out what they believe, should be them 
selves continually without concealment 
and without pretense. When we have 

60 Unspiratfon an> Erutb. 

that, then we shall have at least a solid 
basis of reality on which to build all 
future progress. It is the benefit of 
great and solemn crises that they give us 
some characters which manifest this sim 
ple Truth, that they make it to some ex 
tent the character of all the time. 

ONE period collects materials, the 
next period builds the palace. The long, 
hard-working winter gathers with infinite 
toil the conditions of growth, stores them 
about the dead unanswering seed, then 
dies like David, and the spring-time, its 
successor, bright as Solomon in all his 
glory, comes and finds the preparation 
made, and, in the sunshine, builds the 

ILife. 6 i 

You have seen fathers, not cultivated 
or educated men, who just accepted it 
as their task to gather the materials of a 
cultivated and educated life for their 
children. Not for them to build the 
gracious beauty or the massive strength 
of scholarly attainment ; but they were 
content to get everything ready, and 
then lay the work of construction into 
their children s hands, in whose fulfil 
ment of their wise ambitions they them 
selves should live again. And so it is in 
human history. Age gathers materials 
for age. One century with slow and 
painful labor beats out a few crude ideas, 
which lie like David s logs of wood and 
blocks of stone and seem merely to 
cumber the ground. A new century 
comes, and, inheriting the unfinished 
plan, it takes these crude ideas, and, lo, 
they are just what it needs. It finds 

6 2 Inspiration anfc Crutb. 

them hewn to fit each other, and out of 
them it builds the compact and graceful 
beauty of its institutions. 

TRUTHS are the roots of duties. A 
rootless duty, one that has no truth below 
it out of which it grows, has no life, and 
will have no growth. 

MEN talk about morality as one thing, 
and religion as another. Sometimes 
they pit them one against the other, 
as if there were some sort of natural an 
tagonism between the two. We take a 
higher ground, insisting that there can 
be no such thing as morality without 
religion, and that morality becomes more 

Xife. 6 3 

and more genuine just in proportion 
as religion becomes more and more 
sound and true. We do not believe 
in any reform which finds its whole 
motive within the region of human 
relations. We look for the permanent 
success of no effort, however noble its 
appointed aim may be, which does not 
draw its impulse from some association 
of humanity with a power and a will 
above its own. 

WITHOUT settling detailed judgments, 
which it is not our place to do, we feel 
sure, in general, that God has bound our 
whole nature into such a perfect unity 
that no man can hold wrong opinions 
without incurring, just so far, danger of 
injury to his moral life. 

64 flnspfratfon an& Grutb. 

ONCE accept this supreme importance 
of truth, and every part of our nature 
becomes anxious for the preservation of 
the testimonies of God. The great doc 
trines of our faith become the great pil 
lars of our life. 

ALL union between such complicated 
individualities as men involves surrender, 
the temporary stripping off of non-essen 
tials that the essential may go on and do 
its work unhindered. Afterward, in the 
later stages of its labor, each portion of 
the union may resume its non-essentials, 
which are not therefore non-importants. 


IT is the great boon of such characters 
as Mr. Lincoln s, that they reunite what 

Xffe. 65 

God has joined together and man has 
put asunder. In him was vindicated the 
greatness of real goodness and the good 
ness of real greatness. The twain were 
one flesh. Not one of all the multitudes 
who stood and looked up to him for 
direction with such a loving and implicit 
trust can tell you to-day whether the wise 
judgments that he gave came most from 
a strong head or a sound heart. If you 
ask them they are puzzled. There are 
men as good as he, but they do bad 
things. There are men as intelligent as 
he, but they do foolish things. In him 
goodness and intelligence combined and 
made their best result of wisdom. 

THE simple natures and forces will 
always be the most pliant ones. Water 

66 Ungpiraticm and rutb. 

bends and shapes itself to any new chan 
nel. Air folds and adapts itself to each 
new figure. They are the simplest and 
the most infinitely active things in nature. 
So this nature, in very virtue of its sim 
plicity, must be also free, always fitting 
itself to each new need. It will always 
start from the most fundamental and 
eternal conditions, and work in the 
straightest even although they be the 
newest ways to the present prescribed 
purpose. In one word it must be broad 
and independent and radical. 

PERFECT truth consists not merely in 
the right constituents of character, but 
in their right and intimate conjunction. 
This union of the mental and moral into 

Xife. 67 

a life of admirable simplicity is what we 
most admire in children, but in them it 
is unsettled and unpractical. But when 
it is preserved into a manhood, deepened 
into reliability and maturity, it is that 
glorified childlikeness, that high and 
reverend simplicity which shames and 
baffles the most accomplished astuteness, 
and is chosen by God to fill his purposes 
when he needs a ruler for his people of 
faithful and true heart. 

IT is inevitable, till man be far more 
unfeeling and untrue to his convictions 
than he has always been, that a great 
wrong asserting itself vehemently should 
arouse to no less vehement assertion the 
opposing right. 

6S Unspfration an> Grutb. 

WHEN shall we learn that with all true 
men it is not what they intend to do, but 
it is what the qualities of their natures 
bind them to do, that determines their 

WITH a reverent and clear mind to be 
controlled by events, means to be con 
trolled by God. 

TRUTH and justice are in their very 
nature mighty and intolerant, and must 
fight with and conquer falsehood and sin 
in any region of this many-regioned uni 
verse where they may meet. 

IT is not possible until the need comes, 
I suppose, that we should feel how legit- 

Xife. 69 

imate and true an accompaniment of 
every perfect nature is Force ; that is, 
the ability to clear its field and do its 
work even by the violent destruction of 
the hinderances that block its way. 

SHALL we say that force, or compul 
sion, is something that is so low that it 
can belong to the devil only? that God 
can have nothing to do with it, and so 
that great truths and causes, high prin 
ciples, which are the angels of God, his 
Michaels, have no right to strive; that 
they must not fight with their dragons? 
Very important it seems to me that we 
should understand the opposite. 

THE more we see of events the less we 

7 flnspfration an& Grutb. 

come to believe in any fate or destiny 
except the destiny of character. 

WE make too little always of the phys 
ical. . . . Who shall say that even with 
David the son of Jesse, there was not a 
physical as well as a spiritual culture in 
the struggle with the lion and the bear 
which occurred among the sheepfolds, 
<5ut of which God took him to be the 
ruler of his people? 

THERE is a certain wide-spread nerv 
ousness and fear of giving force any true 
place in the world. It seems a horrible 
intruder, soon, we pray, to be cast out. 
And yet force is as truly the companion 

Xife. 7 1 

of reason as body is of spirit. Righteous 
force is the reaction of truth upon oppos 
ing matter. 

THIS great and gracious nature tempts 
me with all her alluring motherliness to 
bow my will to hers and use her only in 
obedience to her own laws. But if I re 
fuse, she flings her tempest at me, or 
she sinks my ship, or scorches my un 
shielded head with her fiery suns, or 
paralyzes me with disease, and compels 
me back into the obedience from which 
I foolishly and arrogantly tried to escape. 

ANY baby may set his will against the 
will of Mother Nature, and refuse to 
listen to her reason ; but the most colos- 

7 2 Inspiration and ftrutb. 

sal giant must yield his actions to her 
requirements and submit to her majestic 

I CANNOT draw my picture of the per 
fect and perfectly effective man or state, 
unless I lodge the tenderest sympathy 
and the wisest judgment in a strong, 
healthy body that shall compel respect 
and demand obedience when the higher 
powers fail. 

FROM his boyhood up he [Abraham 
Lincoln] lived in direct and vigorous 
contact with men and things, not as in 
older states and easier conditions with 
words and theories ; and both his moral 
convictions and his intellectual opinions 
gathered from that contact a supreme 

Xtfe, 73 

degree of that character by which men 
knew him that character which is the 
most distinctive possession of the best 
American nature that almost indescrib 
able quality which we call in general 
clearness or truth, and which appears in 
the physical structure as health, in the 
moral constitution as honesty, in the 
mental structure as sagacity, and in the 
region of active life as practicalness. 

EVERYWHERE this earnestness of de 
sire that truth should work, should move, 
should go. And what then? Why, of 
necessity, that if in going it should meet 
perhaps some obstinate resistance which 
will not yield, then it must break down. 
The brute circumstance must not tyran 
nize over and stop the progress of the 
spiritual essence. 

74 Unsptration an& Grutb. 

IN all the simplest characters the line 
between the mental and moral natures is 
always vague and indistinct. They run 
together, and in their best combinations 
you are unable to discriminate in the wis 
dom which is their result, how much is 
moral and how much is intellectual. You 
are unable to tell whether in the wise 
acts and words which issue from such 
a life there is more of the righteousness 
that comes of a clear conscience or of 
the sagacity that comes of a clear brain. 
In more complex characters and under 
more complex conditions, the moral 
and the mental lives come to be less 
healthily combined. They co-operate, 
they help each other less. They come 
even to stand over against each other as 
antagonists ; till we have that vague but 
most melancholy notion which pervades 
the life of all elab R-ate civilization, that 

Xffe. 75 

goodness and greatness, as we call them, 
are not to be looked for together, till we 
expect to see and so do see a feeble and 
narrow conscientiousness on the one 
hand and a bad unprincipled intelligence 
on the other, dividing the suffrages of 

THIS truth comes to us more and 
more the longer that we live, that on 
what field or in what uniform, or with 
what aims we do our duty, matters very 
little, or even what our duty is, great of 
small, splendid or obscure. Only to 
find our duty certainly and somewhere, 
somehow do it faithfully, makes us good, 
strong, happy, and useful men, and 
tunes our lives into some feeble echo of 
the life of God. 


CHAPTER VIII. is taken from the columns of 
the Boston Transcript," chapter X., from those 
of the Boston Herald. The latter appeared as an 
editorial. The book is indebted to the Boston 
Transcript for the description of Bishop Brooks s 
consecration. The anecdotes and facts in the 
chapter entitled "Brooksiana" hare been 
gathered from various sources, printed and