Reminiscences

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PRINCETON . NEW JERSEY

FROM THE LIBRARY OF
ROBERT ELLIOTT SPEER

BX 5995 .C53 A3 1895
Clark, Thomas M. 1812-1903.
Reminiscences

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THOMAS M. CLARK, D. D. , LL.D., BISHOP OF RHODE ISLAND.

REMINISCENCES

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BY

THOMAS M. CLARK, D. D., LL. D.

BISHOP OF RHODE ISLAND

SECOND EDITION

COPYRIGHTED AND PUBLISHED BY THOMAS
WHITTAKER, 2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE, IN
THE CITY OF NEW YORK, MDCCCXCV

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Early Days, i

II. College Life, . ii

III. Seminary Lifk, 20

IV. The Episcopal Church Sixty Years Ago, . 32
V. Change in the Outward Aspect of the Church, 40

VI. Change of Tone in the Church, ... 53

VII. Life in Boston, 66

VIII. Removal to Philadelphia, .... 77

IX. Return to Boston, 93

X. Four Years in Connecticut, .... 108

XI. Removal to Rhode Island, .... 120

XIL* The Richmond General Convention, . . 124

XIII. The Late War, 138

XIV. The First Pan- Anglican Conference, . . 153
XV. My Experience Abroad, 160

XVI. A Few Notable Men, 173

XVII. Miscellanies, 190

XVIII. Bishop Brooks, 206

lU

REMINISCENCES.

CHAPTER I.

EARLY DAYS.

I HAVE been asked to note down some of the
reminiscences of a life already protracted beyond
the four score years allotted to man, but have shrunk
from the task, because it is impossible to impart a
living interest to the record without seeming at
times to trespass upon the confidence of private
friendship. There are few persons, of whom we
care to know anything, who do not in the course of
their lives say and do some harmless things which
they might not care to publish to the v/orld, and
yet these may be the very things that give tone and
color to their character. I once asked the dis-
tinguished biographer of one of our most eminent
bishops why he had left out of the narrative the
brightest and most salient features of the bishop's
character, and he said that the introduction of these
peculiar traits would not harmonize with the pur-
pose for which the book was written. When Whit-
field's body servant and confidential attendant, Cor-
nelius Winter, published his sketch of the great
preacher's daily life, and told, among other queer
things, how the good man once threw the hot water

2 REMINISCENCES.

in his face because something happened to irritate
him while he was shaving, many excellent people
were very much shocked ; but, after all, the honest
narrative only showed that Whitfield was human.
Many a tempestuous Christian has been comforted
and relieved by the vigorous outbreak of St. Paul
when, amid the loving salutations he was sending
to his distant brethren, the thought of Alexander
the coppersmith occurred to his mind, indicating
that, after all, the inspired apostle was not altogether
beyond the reach of our ordinary human infirmities.

The sale of the biographies of certain distinguished
divines whom I happened to know somewhat inti-
mately would be much enlarged by the introduction
of a few marginal notes here and there, relieving the
somewhat over-rounded symmetry and grace of the
saintly figure delineated in the memoir. No one
would care to expose the weaknesses of those whom
he loved and revered, and yet out of these very
weaknesses they may have been made strong, and
their grandest achievements may have come of the
fiery passion which, if it had been allowed to range
without restraint, might have desolated the soil in-
stead of making it fruitful. Some men are counted
good simply on the ground that they have never said
or done any imprudent things, but they are not the
kind of people whose lives are likely to attract at-
tention. It is the man who has had battles to fight
that the world knows not of who achieves the noblest
triumphs on the great public field of strife, and his
name is not one of those which are " writ in water."

I did not intend to make any allusion in these
papers to the period of my childhood, until I heard a

EARLY DAYS. 3

distinguished clergyman of our Church, and one of
the keenest critics in the land, say that when he read
anything in the form of a biography he was always
more interested in what the man did when he was a
boy than in any other part of his career. This must
be my apology for occupying a few pages with some
reminiscences of that period of life which, after all,
leaves the most vivid impression upon the memory.
When we have reached maturity and settled down
into the well-worn grooves of existence, there usu-
ally comes a series of years very much alike in their
routine, and unless the monotony is broken by some
striking event there is little to distinguish one year
from another. The decades between the ages of
thirty and sixty may be the most eventful portions
of our life, because it is then that our most impor-
tant work is done, but in the retrospect this is the
most vague and indistinct part of our existence. It
is not strange that the first fifteen or twenty years
should be the period to which our memories cling
most tenaciously, for it was then that the plastic
clay took form and the associations were enkindled
which determined the quality of our being. It was
then that nature first touched us with her brilliant
coloring and wakened our souls with her varied har-
monies. Are we ever moved in after life as we were
when, in our childhood, we saw the bursting of the
leaves and blossoms in spring, and caught the per-
fume of the summer fruits and flowers, and looked
with sadness upon the decaying glories of autumn,
and our young hearts leaped at the sight and touch
of the icy crystals of winter ? The poetry of nature
was revealed to us before we knew what poetry

4 REMINISCENCES.

meant — in the sunset clouds, with all their coloring
of gold and vermilion and ever-changing forms, and
the diamond stars glistening in the dark and impene-
trable concave ; in the sighing of the breeze as it
sifted through the needles of the pine on a raw and
gusty autumn night ; the patter of the rain on the
roof ; the howling of the storm, the solemn roll of
the thunder, and the distant moaning of the sea, as
I used to hear it in my childhood, all through the
night watches. What a strange romance there was
about everything then ! I can hear again the cry of
fire at midnight, and the clang of all the church
bells, and the rattle of the engine through the
streets, and the roaring of the flames, and the
shouts of the firemen ; I can see the boys rushing
down to Plum Island to see the wreck that had been
driven on shore in the last tempest; I recall the
feeling of awe and dread, relieved by a tinge of wild
adventure, when we found ourselves lost in the
woods ; and what is there in after life to compare
with the sensations we had when we saw the first
great military display, and heard for the first time
the roll of the drums and pealing of trumpets and
clang of cymbals, and all the softer notes that tem-
pered the cataract of sound ? I have never felt the
peculiar sensation which comes from contact with
the rich treasures of song and stately words and
eloquent periods that I was conscious of when, in my
school days, I turned away from the dry pastures of
"Enfield's Speaker" and "Scott's Lessons," and
other books of the sort, which up to that period had
been used as text-books in the schools, to revel in the
luxurious fields of Mr. Pierpont's " American First

EARLY DAYS. 5

Class-Book," where we found the best material from
the best authors who had ever written. Seventy
years ago we had no such embarrassment of Hterary
riches as is now furnished to the young, but we
had good mental appetites, unimpaired by excess
of stimulants and superabundance of intellectual
luxuries.

My early days were passed in a small maritime
town — the smallest territorially in Massachusetts —
which had been built up entirely by foreign trade,
which in former days had a flash of romance, as the
ships that went out were expected to traverse a
large portion of the globe before they returned, and
bring back with them the spoils of many climes.
The barriers which now obstruct the free inter-
change of commodities, and have reduced the exports
of the United States to a lower rate per capita than
those of any other civiHzed nation, did not exist
then, and trade was allowed for the most part to
regulate itself. I well remember what a delight it
was when one of my father's vessels arrived from
Russia or Antwerp or the West Indies, or some
other land, with its rich furs and strange wooden
shoes and cocoanuts and yams and plantains, guava
jclHes, limes, and tamarinds.

There was a famous ship in Newburyport called
the Golconda, and I once wrote about her in a New
York paper, expressing my wonder as to what had
become of her at last ; for I had the same interest in
old ships that most people have in the fate of a
favorite horse who has outlived his usefulness. In
a few days I received a letter from a gentleman
in Boston, informing me that he knew what had

6 REMINISCENCES.

become of her, as he was an officer of the vessel
when she made her last trip to San Francisco, and
she was lying to-day under one of the paved streets
of that city. Having become unfit for further serv-
ice at sea, she had been converted into a warehouse
at a time when anything that could be used for such
purposes was in great demand, and as the city
gradually encroached upon the water front the vessel
became submerged in the soil, and is now buried
there — an appropriate burial place for the Golcoyida.
In my boyhood the town had become a very quiet
place, and the days of its prosperity were ended. A
devastating fire, the war of 1812, the embargo that
followed, and the general tendency of foreign com-
merce toward the great cities, combined to destroy
the business which had created the town. There
was no building going on, the grass grew in the
streets, the people were living frugally upon what
they had already acquired, and I grew up with
the impression that the world was finished just
before I was born, and that nothing more would
ever be done to it. At that time there was no indi-
cation of the wonders that were to be wrought in
the nineteenth century. The old curfew bell rang
every night at nine o'clock, as, it still continues to
be rung, and all the people in the winter time care-
fully covered up their fires against the morning,
when, if the embers had gone out, no fire could be
had until the flint and steel had been brought into
operation ; for there were no self-igniting matches
in those days, and, indeed, nothing else in the way
of modern invention and improvement. We had
nothing to burn but wood, no furnaces, no grates,

EARLY DAYS. 7

no gas, no water but that which we drew or pumped
from the well, no ice chests and no ice in summer,
no lights in the streets, no railways, no telegraphs,
no telephones, no agricultural machinery, no anaes-
thetics, no photographs, no street cars, no electric
inventions, no ocean steamers, and very few steam-
boats anywhere, and a hundred other inventions
familiar to us now had never been dreamed of then.
There was hardly a millionaire in the land ; our huge
cities were then only large-sized towns ; the finest
houses in my native town — and some of them were
very fine — could be hired for a little more than a hun-
dred dollars per annum. The highest salary paid to
any clergyman in Newburyport was nine hundred dol-
lars ; very few people ever thought of going thirty
miles away from home ; and so things floated on,
while the elements were brewing to produce the
social cyclone which has been raging ever since.

The first public event that I remember was the
reception given to President Monroe when he visited
New England seventy-six years ago, and I stood in
a line with all the other schoolboys to see him ride
by on his great black horse. Six years later I was
admitted to General Lafayette's bedroom in the
morning, — my father being one of the committee
to entertain him, — and I distinctly remember how
kindly he drew me to his side and, taking my hand,
talked for a while, closing with saying that if I lived
to grow up I must love my country and be a patriot.

Sunday was not a very enlivening period for the
children of those days, not, at least, for those who
were brought up as I was, in the straitest fold of the
Presbyterian Church — the only real Presbyterian

8 REMINISCENCES.

Church at that time in the State of Massachusetts.
Sunday school at nine in the morning ; public serv-
ice at half after ten ; a short sermon read aloud at
home after dinner — and a very frugal meal it was ;
second service at two or three in the afternoon,
according to the season of the year ; liberty to stroll
in the garden a little while after service, provided
we did not touch a flower or pluck an apple from the
tree, which would have been regarded as sinful in
those days. Then came the recitation of the Assem-
bly's Catechism, — known as " The Shorter Cate-
chism,'* there being an amplification of the same in the
Presbyterian Confession of Faith covering two hun-
dred pages, which few persons would be competent
to commit to memory, — with its subtle definitions of
Adoptioft and Effectual Calling, and other techni-
calities, which never enkindled in our minds any
great amount of spiritual fervor, as we had no con-
ception whatever as to what it all meant. Last came
the singing of hymns, and a little good, plain, simple
talk, that came direct from the heart and free from
all the mystification of theology, and this went to
our childish hearts and did us good, and made the
tears start as we all stood up together to pray (no
sound Presbyterian ever knelt in prayer at that
period); and so the love of Jesus reached our souls
through the hearts and not the intellect of those
who led us to the cross. The provision for Sunday
reading, outside of the Bible, was not very ample in
those days. All that I can remember in the way of
books which we were allowed to read were a volume
of religious anecdotes, not over-cheerful ; Foxe's
" Book of Martyrs," still less so with its terrific pic-

EARLY DAYS. 9

tures ; Hannah More's tracts and narratives ; " The
Pilgrim's Progress," which we accepted as authentic,
although it contained some anachronisms which
puzzled us ; and the New England Primer, which we
did not devour with much avidity. There was a
degree of gloomy satisfaction in the picture of John
Rogers at the stake, with his wife and numerous
progeny surrounding him, as they all looked quite
comfortable, but the little poem which followed,
beginning with the words:

" In the burying ground I see
Graves there shorter than I,"

illustrated by the view of a graveyard crowded to its
utmost capacity with children's graves, did not serve
to inspire us with any sentiment but horror and fear,
and this was intensified by an awful dialogue between
''Youth, Death, and the Devil," which it was an
outrage to put into a little child's mouth.

This was just at the dawn of Sunday schools, but
as there were no parochial schools, the children of
the various religious bodies in the town assembled
in the large court house on Sunday mornings to re-
ceive such instruction as might be vouchsafed them,
and then at the close of the session they filed off in
procession to their respective places of worship. I
cannot honestly say that the exercises did me much
good, or excited any feeling but that of extreme
weariness. Our superintendent was an aged gentle-
man who had in his earlier days run a distillery — a
very good sort of man in a very dry way, but with-
out the faintest comprehension of a child's nature,
and, indeed, it was difficult to conceive of his ever

lO REMINISCENCES.

having been a child himself. My own teacher was
a very exemplary and quiet maker of blocks and
pumps, who, after we had recited out texts of Scrip-
ture and the hymns assigned us, having nothing
special to say, very prudently left us to ourselves for
the remainder of the hour. The children of this
generation have occasion to congratulate themselves
upon the change that has come to them, with their
Sunday-school libraries and periodicals, and proces-
sions and banners and entertainments, and all of the
other accessories intended to make the school both
edifying and attractive.

CHAPTER II.

COLLEGE LIFE.

I WISH now to say something about the four col-
lege years that followed the period of childhood.
More than fifteen generations of students have be-
gun and closed their college curriculum since I took
up my abode there, and what has been the fate of
my own classmates ? Very unlike, in many cases,
what might have been anticipated. Some achieved
distinction, some relapsed into obscurity, and not a
few died before their sun had reached its meridian.

There was in my class a youth from the country
— a quiet, modest boy, who never did or said any-
thing very brilliant ; an excellent scholar, although
he did not take the very first rank ; noted especially
as a thorough mathematician ; exemplary in all his
ways, and one who never had an enemy ; gifted with
no special personal attraction, and yet finding a
place in the hearts of all who knew him well, but
not by any means the 07ie man in a class of more
than eighty members whom we supposed was
destined to outrank them all. This man was Noah
Porter, for many years the honored president of
Yale University, the American expounder of meta-
physics and philosophy, the inspirer and director of
thoughful minds, one of the most versatile and
copious writers in the land, the list of his produc-
tions forming a fair-sized pamphlet.

12 REMINISCENCES.

There was another man in the class who sur-
passed Porter in what we regarded as the fire of
genius — a hard man to look upon, but capable of
wonderful scintillations of thought ; an ascetic in his
habits, reveling in the delights of Attic song and
Hellenic eloquence ; one whom we all thought was
destined to make his voice ring through the ages
to come ; but for want of any clearly defined object
in life he floated about in the void for a while,
gradually exchanging his old ascetic ways for a
freer and more perilous style of living, and ended
with identifying himself with the Charleston
Mercury as one of its editors, dying prematurely
long before his work was done. This man was
John Milton Clapp, and I well remember how for
a season his sharp, incisive words in the nullification
days cut their way through the land, when suddenly
they were heard no more.

Another young man comes before me, and yet
he was rather an old man for a college student, —
at least he seemed so to most of us, — a man of a
ponderous build and by no means of a graceful
mold, with an elephantine tread, and hands that
would not seem to be fitted for very delicate work ;
one who was not eminent as a scholar in any depart-
ment, but most eminent for his holiness and devout-
ness, and especially for his earnestness in trying to
save the souls of his companions ; and this was the
man who, having gone out as a missionary to China,
at last established himself there as the great oculist
of the empire, performing the most delicate opera-
tions with an unsurpassed skill, and was afterward
appointed United States Minister to China, return-

COLLEGE LIFE. 1 3

ing home in his advanced age to pass the sunset of
his days in Washington, as a gentleman of fortune
might be expected to do. The name of Peter
Parker — Sir Peter we used to call him — will not
soon be forgotten in the flowery land.

Some men found the niche which we supposed
they were meant to fill, and others did not. The
late Professor Lyman H. Atwater of Princeton Col-
lege belonged to the former class. He was pre-
ordained to fill just this position — an able man, well
versed in metaphysics and theology, always on the
safe side, never driven from his course by any side
winds, never eloquent, but always sensible, never
enthusiastic, and always earnest, a good-hearted man
who never gushed and never allowed his feelings to
take the reins. He went by the name of Jupiter
Maximus in college ; his bulk of body may have
suggested this, and also his somewhat lordly
manner.

Some of my classmates became eminent in ways
that we should not have anticipated. A youth of
high accomplishments, a true gentleman and a most
earnest Christian, with a poetical temperament that
gave a peculiar charm to his writings, will live in
posterity as the inventor of Langstroth's improved
beehive, and as the best authority in all matters
pertaining to bees.

Another man of a very different mold lived long
enough to make himself famous in his own land and
abroad as the Prince of Dudes, the patron of
dancers and actresses, publishing a book in which
he revealed himself to the world without reserve.
I will not give his name, but those who remember

14 REMINISCENCES.

anything about Fanny Ellsler's career will readily
recall it.

We have had among our number governors,
judges, generals, members of Congress, but many of
whom we expected great things died and left no
record behind.

Good Bishop Kip, so long identified with the
Church in California, was one of my classmates — a
model of gentlemanliness and grace, and also a
chevalier without reproach, but giving no premoni-
tion in former days of the work he was to do in the
world. A lady in New York informed me a while
ago that she had in her possession an invitation to
the Junior Class Yale ball in 1830, printed on satin
paper in elegant copperplate, with the names of
William Ingraham Kip and Thomas March Clark as
managers. It should be remembered that this was
sixty-four years ago, and there has been abundant
room for change since that time.

It is a noticeable fact that on the average about
one-third of the Yale graduates entered the ministry
in one denomination or another sixty years ago,
while at the present time only four or five out of a
hundred become clergymen.

It would take a large amount of space to sketch,
in the most cursory manner, the of^cers who pre-
side over that institution to-day ; there are enough
of them to make a respectable college by themselves.
In my day there were in the academical depart-
ment but six permanent teachers and four temporary
tutors.

President Jeremiah Day, the compiler of a well-
known algebra, was one of the best men that ever

COLLEGE LIFE. 1 5

lived — wise, prudent, cautious, and yet liable to be
imposed upon by the students when his judgment
gave way to his kindliness of feeling. He was al-
ways ready to repair with promptness any wrong
that might have been done, of which I have in mind
a notable instance. An outrage was committed one
night by some of the students, and the supposed
culprits were solemnly expelled — always a very im-
pressive sentence, as it was read out in chapel after
evening prayers. One of the students thus expelled
was a townsman and personal friend of mine, and I
knew that he could have had nothing to do with the
offense. Accordingly I waited at once upon the
president and stated the case in detail. He listened
with great attention, and then said : " I will call the
faculty together to-morrow morning and you may
appear before them and tell your story." I trembled
a little at this prospect, but there was nothing else
to do, and when I appeared before the formidable
tribunal, in my verdant simplicity I sat down in a
chair like the rest of them, when Professor Silliman
told me to stand up, which of course I did with
alacrity. I then laid the case before them as clearly
as I could, and after having passed the ordeal of
their questionings I retired. On that evening the
sentence of expulsion was revoked.

President Day's case is a very encouraging one to
young men who may suppose themselves to be
afflicted with an incurable disease. In early life he
returned to his native town to die there, as the con-
dition of his lungs was such as to threaten him with
speedy death. At the age of seventy he resigned
the presidency of the college, which he had held for

l6 REMINISCENCES.

about thirty years, and when I once called to pay
my respects to him in New Haven, twenty years
later, I was informed by the servant that President
Day was not at home, but had gone to the club.
This was not an ordinary fashionable club, but an
assemblage of emeritus men and retired veterans,
who met together to talk over the past and keep
their blood warm.

Professor Silliman was distinguished as one of our
foremost chemists and geologists at a time when
such men were scarce. He was an accomplished and
able lecturer, and always carried himself with great
dignity, which I remember on one occasion was
severely tested. In the course of his lecture he
happened to say something which offended a few of
the students, who gave vent to their feelings by
hissing him. This was altogether a new experience
to him and to us all, and there followed a dead
silence which seemed as if it might last forever. At
length, almost in a v/hisper, the professor said :
" Young gentlemen, is it possible?" and then quietly
proceeded with his lecture. There was no more
hissing in his presence after this. He was in his
day a pioneer in certain departments, at a time
when geology was not in very good repute with con-
scientious people, and it required some courage for
a man in his position to express himself freely. I
remember, an evening when I returned home just
after hearing his lectures and found there a vener-
able but somewhat seedy orthodox divine, who was
accustomed to frequent my father's house for the
sake of a little extra bodily nourishment, which he
greatly needed, and as I proceeded to detail with

COLLEGE LIFE. l7

boyish impetuosity the doctrines which Professor
Silliman had been teaching us about the process of
creation and the proper interpretation of the first
chapter of Genesis, I shall never forget the horror
with which they listened — the idea of such a thing
as 2. process being abhorrent to their minds.

Of the others I must speak more briefly. Pro-
fessor Kingsley held the department of ancient lan-
guages, Hebrew included, which nobody studied,
and, in fact, most of our instruction in Greek and
Latin came from the tutors, if time consumed in
recitations and nothing else can be called instruction.

Professor Olmstead led us through the flowery
paths of mathematics and natural philosophy, of
which I have no very distinct recollection, except
that I was once shut up with him all the forenoon
for the purpose of calculating an eclipse in his pres-
ence, a problem which, I regret to say, remains un-
solved, so far as I am concerned. He was a noble
man and an edifying lecturer, but not very skillful
in the conduct of his experiments, of which he was
so conscious that he formed the habit of saying:
" I will now proceed " to do so and so, " unless the
experiment fails."

Professor Goodrich taught us rhetoric and Eng-
lish literature. In preparing for our public perform-
ances on the platform he took gt'eat pains to teach
us how to make the elaborate old-fashioned bow,
and it always struck me as somewhat incongruous
to see the man who was more of a spiritual father
to the student than a-ny other member of the
faculty assuming the postures and movements of
a professor of calisthenics.

1 8 REMINISCENCES.

Dr, Fitch was our chaplain, and preached to us
every Sunday, out of his abundant treasures of
theology, magnificent discourses which, in their
majesty of diction, always reminded me of Milton's
"Paradise Lost." He dealt but little in that class
of subjects which were most likely to interest the
young, and, indeed, this was not the custom of the
times in any quarter, and the mahogany hue of his
manuscripts showed that it was not their first
appearance in public. He was too bashful to deal
with the students in any private way, and I was
greatly surprised, in meeting him on a journey, to
find how affable he could be away from home. The
only imputation ever brought against him was a
rumor that he raised tobacco in his garden, but this
was probably only as a horticultural experiment.

Peace to their ashes ! They were all good men
and true, if they did not screw us as hard as the
college boys are screwed now. The students of
this generation may be obliged to study harder
than we did, but they do not have to get up in the
cold winter long before daylight, and go through
the procees of attending prayers in a cold chapel,
then pass an hour in the recitation room, and then
go to a very frugal breakfast in common, and all by
candle-light or lamp-light. We had no gas or elec-
tric lights in those days.

Some privileges they have of which we were
destitute. We had no periodical opportunities of
having our heads ground into the earth and our
faces mangled and our limbs broken and our lives
thrown away in pursuance of the noble game of
football. Great advance has been made in athletic

COLLEGE LIFE. 1 9

training, for which the youth of this generation
have reason to be thankful, but it may be possible
to carry this improvement to excess, and the culture
of the body may sometimes encroach upon the
culture of the mind. A professional trainer, when
one of his pupils complained that his strength
seemed to be falling off, said to him : '* You must
have broken some of the rules. Have you been
drinking any intoxicating liquor?" *' I have not."
" Have you used tobacco in any form?" " I have
not." " There is only one thing left ; you must have
been studying." '* Well, I acknowledge that I have
looked into my books occasionally." " This ac-
counts for your debility. You must stop that if
you want to succeed in my department." This of
course is a caricature, for many of the athletes are
also first-class scholars, and yet somehow that does
not seem to be the most direct road to eminence in
these days.

I began this paper without the slightest thought
of saying anything that I have said, and may have
•been impelled to roll along as I have done from
an instinctive desire to keep away from debatable
ground as long as I can ; for in the course of these
reminiscences I may sometimes feel obliged " to
walk tenderly." It is, however, a comfort to know
that with the lapse of time party spirit loses much
of its sensitiveness, and also to feel as the cautious
divine did when, in preaching about Dives, he said
that " he spoke the more freely of his character
as he presumed there were no surviving relatives
whose feelings would be likely to be wounded."

CHAPTER III.

SEMINARY LIFE.

No one can have failed to notice that scenes
once familiar to us, which have become remote by
the lapse of time, will in certain aspects appear to
be almost as fresh and sharp-lined as they were
long years ago, and then again the mist settles
down upon them and they have all the vagueness
of a dream. Sixty years ago I had my abode in
the theological seminary at Princeton, and some-
times, as I catch a glimpse of the old belfry in
whirling along the railway from New York to
Philadelphia, it all comes back so distinctly — the
plain, unadorned chapel, the recitation rooms, the
dining halls, the dignified professors, the throng
of students, the long service on Sunday morning,
the Calvinistic lectures, the marvelous exegesis of
Scripture, the half-hatched essays of the young men,
and the searching criticisms of the teachers — I seem
to see and hear it all as if it were a thing of yester-
day. Then comes a cloud, and, looking through
that cloud of time, everything becomes indistinct
and ghostly. All the good professors long ago
took up their abode in some higher realm, most of
my companions have closed their accounts here,
and the few who survive are no longer young, but
they are all old — waiting for their summons. I pre-
sume that the buildings and surroundings remain

SEMINARY LIFE. 21

much as they were, and it is said that the same
old doctrines continue to be taught. Princeton
Seminary is just as sound as it ever was, still
clamped to the rock of eternal, immutable, uncon-
ditional decrees, in conformity with the declaration
of the Confession of Faith : *' By the decree of
God, for the manifestation of His glory, some men
and angels are predestinated unto everlasting life,
and others foreordained to everlasting death.
These angels and men, thus predestinated and
foreordained, are particularly and unchangeably
designed ; and their number is so certain and
definite that it cannot be either increased or
diminished." All this is done, as we are further
informed, " out of His mere free grace and love,
without any foresight of faith or good works, or
perseverance in either of them, or any other thing
in the creature as conditions or causes moving Him
thereunto ; and all to the praise of His glorious
grace."

I can say this in behalf of the Princeton teaching,
that it was always consistent with itself, and set
forth its doctrines without reserve or equivocation,
shrinking from no logical conclusions on the ground
that they seemed to conflict with the fundamental
principles of ethics, or the attributes of love and
mercy and impartial justice in the Creator, or with
the freedom of the human will. We were taught
that the doctrine of limited atonement is the
foundation of the Christian creed ; that all the free-
dom we possess is liberty to do that which upon the
whole we prefer to do ; that our moral obligations
are in no sense determined by our ability — in other

22 REMINISCENCES.

words, that we are bound to do that which we are
incompetent to do ; that there is nothing in the
nature of man to which the motives of the Gospel
can effectually appeal until a supernatural change
has been wrought by the direct action of God ; that
we are not as individuals living in a state of proba-
tion, as we have all had an actual probation in
Adam ; that as we are lost by the imputation to
us of Adam's sin, so we are saved by the setting
to our account of Christ's righteousness, the moral
qualities of the one personality being attributed to
another; that the atonement consisted in the ac-
ceptance of the sufferings of Christ in place of our
own, and the transfer of the penalty incurred by us
to him as our substitute ; and, finally, that all in
whose behalf this penalty is paid must be saved,
and no others.

This is, in the plainest language at my command,
the substance of what we were taught, although it
may be observed that as soon as this doctrine is ren-
dered into plain, intelligible English the presenta-
tion is regarded as a caricature — and no wonder !

The Princeton theologians were wise enough to
see that this " scheme of doctrine " admits of no
modifications or qualifications any more than the
problems of Euclid admit of them, and that the
removal of any one stone from the arch would send
everything tumbling down.

I recall among the text-books recommended for
us to study were the writings of Witsius, Char-
nock, Turretin, Owen, Fuller, Howe, and the like —
rather dry food, however nutritious it may have been.

I do not wish to speak disrespectfully of a the-

SEMINARY LIFE. 23

ology under whose banner so many grand and
saintly men have been trained for their work, but
how much grander their work might have been if
they had carried about with them some better con-
ception of the love of God, — the God and Father of
all men, — and some truer apprehension of the saving
work of Christ, who can tell ? It was because their
better nature asserted itself, in spite of the dogmas
which they supposed themselves to believe, that
they were able to attain the spiritual height which
they reached ; for, after all, they could not really
believe that God is actuated in all His designs by a
mere regard for His own glory, and is calling into
being every hour, or allowing to come into being,
countless millions for no other end but to furnish
fuel for everlasting burnings.

I cannot say that we were ever much enlightened
as to any other system of theology, and I well
remember the consternation produced on the occa-
sion when I ventured to say a word in mild defense
of a science which at that time was not in very
good repute. It was well understood that we were
there not to investigate, but to be taught. The
trouble is, with such a system and such a style of
instruction, that in after years, when one is ripe
enough to detect the weak points and fallacies of
the system, there is great danger of swinging off
into utter and absolute unbelief. Tell a man, as
Dean Burgon does, that if he can lay his finger on a
line in the Old or the New Testament that is not
inspired of God, he may as well abandon his belief
in revelation altogether, and you are likely to do
him more harm than any infidel could do.

24 REMINISCENCES.

And now I come to a more agreeable part of my
reminiscences. Dr. Archibald Alexander was, at
the time of which I write, the leading man of Prince-
ton. He was the father of many Alexanders, all
distinguished in their way, but he continued to be
Alexander the Great, the noblest Grecian of them
all, to the end. He was something more than a
cast-iron dogmatist; he had a living soul in him, a
quick and keen mental apprehension, a rich imagi-
nation, and a caustic gift which he was slow to exer-
cise, but which did its work thoroughly when it was
exercised. It was a great luxury to those of us who
did not happen to be the victims when the time
came for him to sit in judgment upon the essays,
which, in turn, we were all obliged to read in his
presence. If there was a defective spot in the com-
position, a disordered metaphor, or any attempt to
spread the eagle unduly, the surgical knife was
applied with a discrimination and a skill which we
could not help admiring, even when we were the
unhappy subjects under treatment.

On one occasion a young man read a production
so full of absurdities and bombastic imagery that
we all anticipated the richest treat when the time
arrived for the good doctor to operate. While we
were reading he usually sat with his spectacles on
the top of his head, his eyes closed and hands folded,
jand his chin resting on his breast ; and when the
reading was over, after a short interval he would
slowly raise himself and, adjusting his glasses, lei-
surely open the campaign. This time it was a long
while before he roused himself, and he seemed
to have become deeply absorbed in thought, and we

SEMINARY LIFE. 2$

supposed that he must be getting his batteries in
order, preparatory to the critical job before him.
At last he rallied, and after fixing his eyes for a
moment upon the complacent youth who had just
taken his seat, he turned away with a bewildered
sort of sigh, and said in his quick falsetto tone, and
with a peculiar emphasis, " T/ie next " — as if this
was a case altogether beyond him. We were of
course disappointed, but not altogether so ; the
scene was worth something.

I have preserved to this day copious notes of his
Sunday discourses, and they never lose their charm.
I have at times been tempted to make some per-
sonal use of them — it seemed to be a pity to keep
such golden treasures out of circulation ; but, in
addition to the impropriety of stealing other men's
thoughts, the contrast between the gold and the
pinchbeck would have been certain to betray miC.

Dr. Samuel Miller was the pattern of an old-
fashioned gentleman from the crov/n of his head to
the sole of his foot ; with his venerable locks and
courtly visage, his gold spectacles and gold-headed
cane, his rich and spacious cloak, his scarlet mufiler,
and his perfect costume, there seemed to be nothing
wanting externally. It was an object lesson in good
manners to see him enter the recitation room and
lay aside his outer habiliments, and he took his seat
with a dignity that would become a king. He
published a famous book — famous in its day — on
'* Clerical Habits and Manners," in which he told
the clergy how to conduct themselves at home and
abroad, in public and in private, with a minuteness
of detail that reminds one of the more elaborate

26 REMINISCENCES.

directions of a high rituahstic service. I have not
seen the work for fifty years, and therefore cannot
enter into particulars. In some respects he was the
antipodes of Dr. Alexander, who never cultivated
the graces of manner to any great extent, and he
was also unlike him in the construction of his mind.
Dr. Alexander's work grew under his hand ; Dr.
Miller's was constructed with, the greatest care. He
once described to me, as I sat with him alone in his
study, the process by which he prepared his ser-
mons, and it was in this way, so far as I can recall
his words : " After I have selected my text I write
down the leading heads on separate sheets of paper,
and then I introduce at proper distances the minor
divisions under each head. Then I proceed to fill
up one of these spaces, and when I have finished
writing out one of the divisions, I usually take a
short nap to refresh me, and so on to the end." I
have in my possession a tolerably full synopsis of
the doctor's sermons, and I think I can see where
the naps came in.

Dr. Miller was a most devoted Christian and also
a very High-Church Presbyterian. He was a strong
advocate of three orders in the ministry — bishops,
elders, and deacons ; the difference between him
and Bishop Hobart being that he put the three
orders one notch lower down than our bishop. He
accepted without reserve the article in the Presby-
terian Confession of Faith which, after saying that
" the Lord Jesus hath appointed a government in the
hand of church officers," enlarges upon it as follows:
*' To these officers the keys of the kingdom of
heaven are committed, by virtue whereof they have

SEMINARY LIFE. 2J

power respectively to retain and remit sins, to shut
that kingdom against the impenitent, both by the
Word and censures, and to open it unto penitent
sinners by the ministry of the Gospel and by abso-
lution from censures, as occasion shall require."
There is not much tinge of Low-Churchism here. I
recall an occasion when the good doctor found him-
self in rather a tight place. He had been telling us
about the Synod of Dort, and before closing said
that he wished to direct our special attention to the
fact that this Synod, in which all the prominent
Reformed Churches were represented, after a most
thorough and protracted consideration of the whole
subject, before their adjournment had come to an
absolutely unanimous verdict in favor of the
Supralapsarian system of doctrine. A troublesome
little man in my class rose in his place and asked if
he might be permitted to put a question to the
doctor. With the greatest courtesy, he replied,
" Certainly. It always gives me great pleasure to
have the young gentlemen show their interest in all
matters brought to their attention." " Well, then,"
said the pestiferous youth, " was it so very remark-
able that the Synod should be unanimous in taking
the final vote when all the members who differed
from the majority had either been expelled from the
Council or left it in disgust?" Of course we all
felt very bad for the doctor, but we could not see
any way of helping him out.

With the veneration I have always cherished for
the memory of Dr. Miller, I have hesitated as to the
insertion of this incident, but history would be of
little value if all the frailties of great and good men

28 REMINISCENCES.

were concealed, and I have recorded it as an illus-
tration of the tendency which often manifests itself
in high ecclesiastics, when the interests which they
regard as sacred are concerned, to be somewhat eco-
nomical of the truth. Nowhere is this tendency
more conspicuous than in religious biographies, and
sometimes it appears even in religious autobiogra-
phies. In this respect the contrast is striking when
we turn to the history of the Old and New Testa-
ment saints, as recorded in the Bible.

Dr. Miller had a strong prejudice against the
Episcopal Church, and when an edifice of this
description was built near his own home, he was a
little disturbed. At the same time he contributed
toward its erection, and when he was asked what
induced him to do it, he replied that he protested as
a clergyman and subscribed the money as a citizen.

At the time of which I write Dr. Charles Hodge
was so lame and feeble that we were obliged to go
to his study for our lectures and recitations. He did
not have the appearance of one destined to a long
earthly career, and yet it is not many years since I
was accustomed to see him day after day breasting
the waves on the beach at Narragansett Pier, and
seeming to enjoy the sport as much as any of the
young men and maidens about him. I may also
remark, in passing, that at the same period I had
Dr. Hodge for an auditor during the summer season,
as the Presbyterians, having no church of their own,
were then worshiping with us, and of course I had
to speak cautiously as long as he had me in his eye.
I had not the vanity to suppose that I could teach
him anything.

SEMINARY LIFE. 29

There was very little of the flavor of Calvinism in
the man himself, for a more loving and tender-
hearted being never existed, but whenever a princi-
ple of importance was involved, he could be as true
and hard as steel. Of course he must have believed,
or believed that he believed, all the rigid dogmas
that he taught, but how he could have done so is
one of the mysteries. In the exegesis of Scripture
he never flinched when he came in contact with a
text that seemed to conflict with the doctrine of
limited atonement, or any other dogma of the sort ;
and I was very much impressed with his disposal of
the words, "And He is the propitiation for our sins;
and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the
whole world," which he told us must be interpreted,
" Who died not merely for the elect Jews, but also
for the elect among the Gentiles." The New Haven
divinity school was never in much favor at Prince-
ton, and when a student from that institution once
came to Princeton to be enrolled there, it is said
that the doctor questioned him somewhat carefully
as to what he understood to be the Princeton view
of the atonement, and the answer proving to be
quite satisfactory, the doctor said : '* And now please
to tell me wherein does the New Haven doctrine
differ from our own ? " to which the young man
innocently enough replied : " In New Haven they
teach that God so loved the world that He gave His
only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him
should not perish, but have everlasting life."

We had still another teacher. Professor Addison
Alexander, a son of the president, who did all that
he could to make our Hebrew attractive — a man of

30 REMINISCENCES.

wonderful parts and great acquirements, but reserved
to a fault and living a life of great retirement. His
prayers at the opening of our Hebrew recitations
were models of brevity, one of which impressed
itself indelibly upon my mind : *' O Lord, pardon
our sins, and save the Church from the disgrace of
a ministry who are not able to read the Scriptures
in the original." I presume that in his view this
seemed to cover the whole ground. He died before
the great work was done for which he seemed to be
destined, and the world was much the loser.

The Episcopal church of which I have spoken was
built during my time, and no one being found to
play the organ at the consecration, I volunteered
my services, and all that I have to say about it is, I
was never asked to repeat the operation. The late
Rev. Professor Hare, the father of Bishop Hare, was
the first rector, and as there was no afternoon service
in the seminary chapel, some of us formed the habit
of attending the new church, where the simplicity of
the service and the liberal fervor of the preacher
combined to impress us very favorably. At this
time I passed a Sunday in Philadelphia and went to
St. Andrew's Church, of which Dr. Bedell was the
rector, attracting great crowds by his eloquence and
earnestness. I was deeply impressed by the whole
scene, as all I had known before of the Episcopal
Church was in a very small way, and I remember
thinking on my way home that if I thought I could
ever have any church like that I should be inclined
to enter the Episcopal ministry. In less than ten
years I became the rector of St. Andrew's Church.

There are some advantages and some disadvan-

SEMINARY LIFE. 3 1

tages in being educated under the auspices of
another communion than that in which one's lot is
finally cast. Those who are born in the Church are
there by inheritance ; those who enter it from with-
out are there by choice. One of our most positive
ritualistic clergymen said to me a while ago that he
was very thankful for having been bred as a Unita-
rian, because it had opened to him the humanitarian
side of man's nature. It may be of some service to
have been brought up as a Presbyterian, provided
the reaction is not too great when you break loose.
There are all-important elements in that body in
which in days past we have been deficient, although
there is a great change for the better now — a per-
sonal zeal and self-denying spirit, a sense of the
solemn reality of spiritual things, a consciousness of
the divine presence, an experimental piety — using
the term in the sense of a religion resting upon per-
sonal experience, of which the Episcopal Church in
times gone by had no occasion to boast. It is a
combination of elements that makes a wholesome
atmosphere, and too strong an infusion of exciting
oxygen or neutralizing nitrogen disturbs the equi-
librium. It is the union of order and beauty with
earnestness and zeal that makes the perfect Church.

CHAPTER IV.

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SIXTY YEARS AGO.

The Episcopal Church in this country was a very
small affair at the time of my ordination, in 1836,
reporting less than 600 parishes and 763 clergy.
The General Convention had just declined '' to enter
upon a measure involving consequences so momen-
tous " as the nomination of a bishop for China, and
the Domestic missionary field remained for the most
part a moral v/ilderness. Bishop Kemper had been
appointed to break ground there, and I remember
dining with him in Boston just before he went out
^' to exercise Episcopal functions in the States of
Missouri and Indiana," and wondering that such a
high-bred gentleman should be willing to exile him-
self in the far-off regions of the West.

During the decade between the years 1830 and
1840 the Episcopal Church made such an advance
as it had never known before. The number of clergy
doubled during this period, and for the first time in
its existence its influence began to be felt somewhat
generally in the community. Several causes com-
bined to excite an interest in the Episcopal Church,
especially in New England, where the breaking up
of the established ecclesiastical regime was more
conspicuous than anywhere else. The rigid yoke of
New England Puritanism had become intolerable,
but in seeking relief from the iron bonds of Calvin-

32

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SIXTY YEARS AGO. 33

ism a large portion of both ministers and people had
cast aside some of tlie fundamental doctrines of the
Christian faith. There ensued a movement toward
the Episcopal Church by those who wished to throw
off the shackles of a harsh and complicated creed,
and by others who, having sought for freedom in
their own inherited domain, found themselves float-
ing off into the wide sea of indifference and unbelief,
and still were not prepared to deny entirely the
divinity of the Being from whom the Christian
Church takes its name. The breadth of this Church
attracted the former, and its stability gave confidence
to the latter.

The simple service of the old Puritan worship was
becoming barren and wearisome, as the original
fervor which inspired it died out, and the short
prayer and the long prayer, with two or three of
Watts' hymns, and perhaps a chapter from the Bible
once on the Sunday, did not quite satisfy the aver-
age worshiper. There was a growing desire on the
part of many persons to participate in the forms of
worship that had existed in the ages all along,
strengthened by the feeling that it did not seem ex-
pedient to depend entirely upon the intellectual abil-
ity or the spiritual mood of the minister to formulate
the devotions of the congregation. I supplied the
pulpit of the Old South Church in Boston for a little
time in 1835, and my entrance into the Episcopal
Church was precipitated by consciousness of my
unfitness to express in extemporaneous prayer the
sentiments of an intelligent congregation whose
Christian experience had in a great many cases been
matured before I was born.

34 REMINISCENCES.

The organization and government of this Church
attracted considerable attention, not so much because
of its conformity to early usage and the analogies of
Scripture, but because of its inherent fitness and
conformity to the general order of things — the con-
stitution of civil government and of all other socie-
ties and corporations. The institution of new terms
of communion in many religious bodies — Anti-
masonic, Anti-slavery, Total Abstinence, and the
like — induced a certain amount of emigration toward
the Episcopal Church, while some of the ministers
of various denominations looked thitherward as a
field for greater independence and freedom.

In the earlier part of the century the Episcopal
Church made slow progress, and its influence was
not felt very seriously in society. The impression
prevailed that it was an aristocratic fold, of limited
extent, for the accommodation of respectable persons
who wished to get to heaven by an easy road and
without much disturbance from any source. It is
related of the Rev. Dr. Gardiner, rector of Trinity
Church, Boston, that when he was asked to contrib-
ute toward the erection of an Episcopal church in
a village some ten or fifteen miles away he declined,
on the ground that this Church was designed for
ladies and gentlemen, and they did not live in the
country. When someone remarked to a Methodist
bishop that the Episcopal Church was a very respect-
able Church, he replied : " I know it is. The Lord
deliver the Methodists from ever becoming respect-
able." They have become respectable, notwith-
standing this protest, and with the usual results. I
have heard good old-fashioned ladies in my native

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SIXTY YEARS AGO. 35

town complain of the intrusion of a few '' Dis-
senters " into old St. Paul's, partly on the ground
that their presence intercepted the view.

In those days the Episcopal Church stood very
much aloft from all forms of organization outside of
her own borders, and kept on the even tenor of
her way, undisturbed by any matters pertaining to
secular affairs. If " a good Churchman " of that
period should come back to-day and hear some of
our sociological discourses, and look in upon a few
of our parish houses, with their reading rooms and
amusement rooms and coffee rooms and gymnasiums
and bowling alleys, he might think that he had got
into a new world, which would not be far from the
truth. The current style of preaching in our pulpits
was not, as a general rule, very severe in its draft
upon the intellect, or likely to enkindle any excessive
amount of enthusiasm.

At the time of my admission to Orders the Rev.
Dr. Bedell and the Rev. Dr. Hawks were perhaps
the most widely known as " pulpit orators." It is
very evident, however, from a perusal of Dr. Bedell's
published sermons, that the charm of his manner
and the sincerity and earnestness of his utterance
must have conduced very much to the high reputa-
tion he attained as a preacher. The holiness of his
life gave special power to his words, and that he
had a singular faculty in searching the hearts of men
is illustrated by a little incident in his career. On
the Monday after he had preached one of his most
faithful sermons a gentleman of the congregation
waited upon him to express his surprise that his
good pastor should have selected him as the subject

36 REMINISCENCES.

of discourse on Sunday, when the doctor assured
him that it was not a new sermon, and the thought
of anyone in particular had not entered his mind.
This of course was enough, and the aggrieved
parishioner started for his home. On the way he
met a friend, who stopped him on the sidewalk and
observed that he was going to Dr. Bedell's house to
remonstrate with him for his ill-bred personalities
the day before. *' Did you, then, observe it ? " said
the former. " No one could help observing it."
" Well, then, this confirms my original impression,
but I have just called upon Dr. Bedell, and he
assured me that he did not have me in his mind at
all." " I never supposed that he was talking about
j/oUj and I was on my way to call him to account
for having selected me as his target." It is not
necessary to add that the second call was not made.
Dr. Bedell had unconsciously brought down two
sinners at one shot.

So far as I know. Dr. Hawks never printed any of
his sermons, and we have no means of estimating
his pulpit gifts except by tradition. I may have
further occasion to speak of him as a platform
orator, where he was unrivaled, but as a preacher
he was greatly indebted to the musical instrument
that he carried in his throat. To hear him preach
was like listening to the harmonies of a grand organ,
with its varied stops and solemn sub-bass and trem-
ulous pathetic reeds. The rector of one of the
Washington churches, where Daniel Webster was
an attendant, told me that after Dr. Hawks had
preached for him on a Sunday morning, Mr. Web-
ster said that it was the greatest sermon he had

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SIXTY YEARS AGO. 37

ever heard. The rector made no reply, but took
occasion to borrow Dr. Hawks' sermon, and during
the week took it round to Mr. Webster's house and
told him that, as he was so much impressed by the
discourse on Sunday, he thought he might possibly
like to hear it again. Mr. Webster replied that he
should be delighted to do so, but when the reading
was over, he remarked, " That is not the sermon I
heard at your church last Sunday." '' Here is the
manuscript," was the conclusive rejoinder. The
musical accompaniment was wanting, and that was
the trouble.

We are all familiar with certain ordinary hymns
which are simply glorified by the music. I do not
think that *' The voice of free grace cries escape to
the mountains," or " How firm a foundation, ye
saints of the Lord," would ever be selected as
models of poetical composition, and yet I was told,
when we were preparing the old Hymnal, that it
would be fatal to the Hymnal in Virginia if " The
voice of free grace " was not there.

I would not be understood to say that Dr. Hawks
was not a great preacher. I shall never forget the
delight with which we listened to him in our college
days, sixty or seventy years ago, when he was
the assistant to good old Dr. Croswell in Trinity
Church, New Haven. I would simply intimate that
almost anything would be made impressive if it
were spoken by Dr. Hawks.

Sixty years ago little had been written by Church-
men in this country likely to attract very general
attention or deeply impress thinking minds. Dr.
Chapman's " Sermons to Presbyterians," Dr. Mines'

38 REMINISCENCES.

" Presbyterian Looking for the Church," Dr. John
A. Clark's " Walk about Zion," and a few other
books of a more general character were read some-
what extensively within the borders of the Church,
if not without the pale ; but nothing had' been pro-
duced to arrest the notice of scholars and teachers of
thought, like Professor Allen's '* Continuity of Chris-
tian Thought," Professor Mulford's " Republic of
God," Dr. Washburn's profound papers, and Phillips
Brooks' *' Lectures on Preaching " and miscellaneous
sermons. It was not regarded as incumbent upon a
Church clergyman to concern himself with matters
that pertained to the region of economics or soci-
ology or civil reform, and such a man as Professor
McCooke of Trinity College, who has sounded the
depths of those great subjects, would have been
regarded in former days as a most extraordinary
phenomenon.

I shall have occasion, before I close, to show how
the Episcopal Church, though it continues to rest
on the same old foundations, and has retained its
ministry, creeds, and services substantially undis-
turbed, is not in many of its aspects the same
Church that I knew when I first sought shelter
within its borders. The same imperishable stones
support the edifice, the same strong oaken frame-
work retains its place, the general proportions of the
building are the same ; but the building has taken
upon itself a new tone of color, annexes of various
sorts surround it, ornamental appendages have been
added, the windows have been enlarged, the doors
move more readily upon their hinges, the Church
will hold more people than it did, it is more likely

THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH SIXTY YEARS AGO. 39

to attract people, it seems to belong to our own age
and our own land more than it once did, and, if I
may be allowed to change the metaphor abruptly,
it is no longer regarded as an exotic — it has become
acclimated, and can live and flourish out of doors
all through the season.

This is, upon the whole, a change for the better.
The Church is moving, and that is a sign of life. It
may not always move just as we would like to see
it move, but this is better than immobility, which
is another word for death. Novel doctrines and
novel usages may somewhat disturb our peace, but
if they are not in accord with the great irresistible
tide of human progress, with the noblest and pro-
foundest thought of the age, their influence will be
temporary. There may be some elements of good
even in these extremes, and after the turbid waters
have been allowed to run for a while, the particles
of gold will be deposited and the mud swept away.

CHAPTER V.

CHANGE IN THE OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE
CHURCH.

The outward aspect of the Episcopal Church in
the year of my ordination, 1836, was different from
what it is now. There were very few church edifices
of which we had reason to be proud, and it was
unfortunate that the period when the Church began
to enlarge its borders should have been so lamen-
ably deficient in any true conception of ecclesias-
tical architecture. We had inherited a few impress-
ive specimens of the old Christopher Wren school,
like St. Paul's, New York, and Christ Church, Phila-
delphia, and there might be seen here and there a
Gothic edifice of some respectable pretensions, like
Christ Church, Hartford ; but the prevailing style of
building was utterly destitute of beauty or any dis-
tinctive religious character. I may select as an
illustration St. Andrew's Church, Philadelphia, of
which I should be sorry to say a disparaging word,
with all the tender and hallowed associations con-
nected with the structure, and yet it was more likely
to be taken by strangers for a bank than a church
when the doors happened to be open in the week-
time, as, indeed, it sometimes was by persons who
wished to get a note cashed. The church was
modeled after the temple of Bacchus, with heads of
Medusa, indefinitely multiplied, adorning the iron

40

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 41

fence in front. Two large bronzed globes flanked
the chancel rail, representing the tanks in which
wine was wont in ancient times to be kept, with a
lofty pulpit in the center, fashioned like an Egyptian
cenotaph, with outstretched gilded wings adorning
the front — the pulpit being entered by a flight of
stairs from the vestry room in the rear. A reading
desk, large enough to accommodate a respectable
number of clergymen, stood before it, with a recess
in front holding a marble slab, which served for the
administration of the Holy Communion. The organ
was built in the shape of a harp, with gilded strings
in front instead of pipes. All these interior decora-
tions and furniture are to be seen no more, while the
exterior of the church of necessity remains as it was,
and it is certainly a more seemly structure than
some of the neighboring churches, built at about
the same period. Such a thing as a cross on the
inside or outside of a church was not to be seen
fifty years ago, and all the interior coloring and
decorations with which we are now so familiar have
come into use within a recent date.

If such " good Churchmen " as I knew in my
early days should return to the earth, they would
miss some things to which they had been accus-
tomed, and see a great many things that would
strike them with astonishment. No more *' three-
deckers " in the chancel, no more black gowns and
muslin bands and black silk gloves in the pulpit, no
more Collects before the sermon, veiy few old-
fashioned choirs up in the gallery, no obligatory
singing of a Psalm in meter whenever a hymn is to
be sung, no more exhortations after sermon, no

42 REMINISCENCES.

more depositing of the alms on the floor at the head
of the aisle ; everything is now converted into a
function, the oblations are literally oblated, lifted tip ^
and even the entrance and exit of the clergyman
forms a part of the ceremonial. In many of our
churches, in place of the simple old Anglican Holy
Table, with the Creed, Lord's Prayer, and Ten Com-
mandments inscribed on the wall, he would see a
high stone altar with elaborate carvings and orna-
mentations, with its retable and gilded cross and
beautiful flowers and candles and reredos and balda-
chino and triptych and pyx and cruse or corporas
case and cruets and chalice veil and ciborium and
superfrontal, and other novelties too numerous to
mention. If opportunity offered, he might be told
that the proper eucharistic vestments are the
amice, alb, girdle, stole, maniple, tunic, dalmatic, and
chasuble, and that all these things have a symbolical
significance — the amice representing the linen rag
wherewith the Jews blindfolded our Saviour, the alb
and surplice emblematic of purity, the girdle em-
blematic of the work of the Lord, — to perform which
the ministers gird up their loins, — the stole repre-
sents the yoke of Christ, and is therefore to be
reverently kissed before it is put over the shoulders,
and so on. If the same " good Churchman " should
remain through the entire service, he might see and
hear some other things that would astonish him, in
the way of clerical dress and genuflections and bow-
ing to the altar and changes of position and manipu-
lations with the hands and fingers and crossings of
the breast and various ablutions and intonations of
the prayers.

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 43

No one can doubt that all this would startle an
old-fashioned Churchman ; we have become accus-
tomed to these changes gradually, and therefore
they do not strike us so strangely. It is to be hoped
that there will be some limit to these innovations.

We cannot help admitting that in many respects
there has been great improvement in the outward
aspect of our public services. The music is of a
higher order and better rendered, our Hymnal is
richer and more copious, there is more variety and
flexibility in our worship and less of monotony and
tediousness, both ministers and people are more
reverent in their demeanor ; but it is deeply to be
regretted that the improvement should be associated
with practices that are foreign to the genius of the
Protestant Episcopal Church, and sometimes even
ludicrous and repulsive. It is difficult to conceive
of St. Paul, or any of the original Apostles, indulg-
ing in certain osculatory and other puerile demon-
trations, which seem to have a charm for some of
our wise and venerable brethren. It is to be hoped
that, after a while, the reign of common sense will
return, and the Church be no longer distracted by
these follies.

With changes of custom there must of necessity
come changes in diction. New words must be
invented and new terms come into use. A great
deal that we read in the newspapers to-day would be
unintelligible to our ancestors. In some cases there
is a special significance in the general introduction
of new terms, as, for instance, in the popular substi-
tution of the phrase '* celebration of the Holy Com-
munion," instead of ** the administration," as we

44 REMINISCENCES.

usually have it in the Book of Common Prayer.
There can be no objection to this term, unless it
is intended to signify that the administration and
reception of the sacred elements is not an essential
feature of the Sacrament, and that the priest may
celebrate and receive alone, as the proxy or repre-
sentative of the communicants. The same may be
said of the use of the word altar, in place of the
Table, or the Holy Table, as we read in the Office
of the Prayer Book. As a figurative expression it is
unobjectionable, but if it is meant to imply that
there is a perpetual repetition of Christ's sacrifice by
the ministration of an earthly priesthood, we have
no right to say, as we do in the Prayer of Consecra-
tion, ''All glory be to Thee, Almighty God, our
heavenly Father, for that Thou, of Thy tender
mercy, didst give Thine only Son Jesus Christ to
suffer death upon the cross for our redemption ;
who made there (by His one oblation of Himself
once offered) a full, perfect, and sufficient sacrifice,
oblation, and satisfaction, for the sins of the whole
world; and did institute, and in His holy Gospel
command us to continue a perpetual memory of that.
His precious death and sacrifice, until His coming
again."

It would have startled a " Bishop Hobart Church-
man " to have been told that the time would come
before long when it would be regarded as irreverent
to receive the Sacrament of the Stipper without
having fasted for some hours before, and it would
have more than startled a Churchman of that school
to be told that the day was not very remote when a
portion of our clergy would request their people to

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 45

go to them for private confession and absolution
before coming to Confirmation or the Communion.
An eminent and excellent Roman Catholic bishop
once said to me that he regarded the Confessional, as
it was practiced among us, as a very dangerous insti-
tution, and that his own Church would never allow
it under the conditions existing in the Episcopal
Church. If private oral confession to the priest is
to become established in our borders, it is very
important that it should be brought under proper
regulations and restrictions, both as to the proprie-
ties of time and place and the fitness of the person
who presumes to take into his hands the direction
of other people's consciences.

The multiplication of bishops and dioceses has
been going on at a rapid rate during the last few
years, and this not merely by the opening of new
fields, but also by the division and subdivision of
dioceses, and the appointment of assistant or co-
adjutor bishops. At the time when I entered the
ministry there v/ere only four bishops in all New
England and New York, where there are now eleven.
Four years elapsed from the date of my consecra-
tion before another bishop was elected, and of late
it has not been uncommon to have five or six new
bishops consecrated in a single year. Formerly it
was assumed that there must be a diocese in exist-
ence, or at least a certain amount of material for the
formation of a diocese, before a bishop could be
secured, but in these days in many cases we send
out our bishops as pioneers to construct the diocese.

This multiplication of small dioceses has an im-
portant bearing upon the general legislation of the

46 REMINISCENCES.

Church, and in fact it enables a minority to deter-
mine what that legislation shall be. Any one of
eighteen dioceses, the aggregate statistics of which
are outnumbered by the diocese of New York alone,
has the power to nullify the vote of that large dio-
cese in the General Convention. This anomalous
state of things must be founded upon the presump-
tion that the diocese is the norm of the Church, and
this being so, for some unknown reason all the dio-
ceses, great and small, must stand on the footing of
perfect equality. The failure to rectify this one-
sided legislation has been so signal as to discourage
any further efforts in that direction. A franchise
once conferred is not readily withdrawn, especially
where the balance of power rests with those upon
whom the privilege has been bestowed. Universal
suffrage, having been established by law, is irrevo-
cable, no matter what the consequence may be.
Before the establishment of the Federal Constitution,
under the original Federation, all the States were
allowed an equal representation, and it required a
radical change in the entire civil organization to
rectify the mistake. It is easy to imagine what
would be the political aspect of the country to-day ^
if Rhode Island and New York sent the same
number of representatives to Washington.

It is to be lamented that the pastoral relation
should of late have become so much more transitory
and uncertain than it was in days gone by. In the
town where I was brought up there were eight or
nine ministers of various denominations, all of whom
died in the place where they were first settled — only
one of the number resigning his parish, and he went

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 47

off to become President of Dartmouth College, re-
turning, however, after a little time — not to resume
his ministry in his old church, but, singularly enough,
to take charge of a congregation who seceded from
the church where his pastorate began, on the ground
of their dissatisfaction with his settlement. One of
these ministers, when he was between sixty and
seventy years of age, but still in his full bloom and
vigor, surprised his people on one Sunday morning
by the announcement that his term of service ended
on that day, inasmuch as at the time of his settle-
ment, instead of entering into an engagement for
life, as was then the general custom, he had con-
tracted to serve the parish for forty years, and this
period terminated on that day ; adding that he had
taken this step because of the fear that he might
persist in preaching when he was no longer fit to do
so. He continued, however, to teach a Bible-class
for about a score of years longer, and when I called
upon him, some time after he had passed his nine-
tieth year, his mental faculties seemed to be clearer
than those of some of his younger brethren.

The number of our clergy who live and die of old
age in the same parish is now comparatively small.
The frequent migrations from place to place seem
in a great degree to grow out of the necessity of
the times. The enormous multiplication of feeble
parishes, which must struggle hard to give their
ministers anything like a decent support, obliges
many of our clergy to be constantly on the lookout
for some stronger and more lucrative position. It
is a serious question, whether, in our efforts to
increase the number of our churches, we are not

48 REMINISCENCES.

''watering the stock" in an injudicious degree —
diffusing our strength, instead of concentrating it.
The self-denial and suffering which many of our
clergy are called to endure is very great, and this
comes in a great measure from the planting of half
a dozen little parishes, of various sorts, in towns and
villages that are just about strong enough to sustain
one respectable church. There is such a thing as
"multiplying the nation " without ''increasing the
joy." There is such a thing as drenching the
Church with ministers, who v/ill always find it diffi-
cult to earn their bread. A poor old presbyter, on
his way from a little church which he had just
resigned under pressure, sat down in my study some
years ago and said with a long-drawn sigh, " It is a
most mysterious providence that every parish I have
had has died on my hands." It was not much of a
mystery to anyone but himself.

The Brotherhoods, Mission Priests and Sister-
hoods, which have found a place in our borders, are
a striking innovation and were not dreamed of in
former times. They have probably come to stay,
for there is a class of people who can work to better
advantage in a community, and somewhat apart
from the ordinary course of things, than they could
as individuals. A tinge of romance tends to re-
lieve the monotony that is apt to attend any form
of communal life, and the feeling of separateness
from the common throng has its charms. The men
and women who are willing to surrender the com-
forts and delights of a private home, in order to
devote themselves to works of charity, deserve to
be honored, but there are certain features of this

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 49

system that ought to be seriously considered. One
of these is the lawfulness and expediency of bind-
ing one's self in early life to perpetual vows, which,
after a time, may become a burden too grievous and
heavy to be borne, and perhaps embarrass the man's
actions where freedom is greatly to be desired, of
which we have recently had a notable instance in
the Church. It is a very grave question whether
men and women have the moral right to put their
destiny in the control of a superior, and in so doing
abjure forever the exercise of their own freedom.
Still further, the lawfulness of establishing clerical
orders in the Church, claiming the right to act
independently of the constituted authorities, strikes
at the foundation of our whole system of govern-
ment. We all know how this assumption has
operated in former ages, and there is no reason
why it should not work in the same way hereafter.
Things have come to a strange pass when a
bishop directs one of his presbyters to comply with
the requisitions of a canon or a rubric, to have
him say that he cannot tell whether he will do so
or not until he has had time to hear from his
superior.

Among the new agencies that have come into
being for the quickening of spiritual life, we cannot
fail to notice the introduction of what are known
as Retreats and Quiet Days and special Parochial
Missions, indicating, as we have reason to hope,
the growth of a higher life and a more devout
spirit in the Church. Men of great experience,
wisdom, and piety are needed for the direction of
such services, and for the public missions we want

50 REMINISCENCES.

a style of preachers endowed with the quickening,
penetrating, searching power which characterizes
the Paulist Fathers in the Roman Catholic com-
munion and the old-fashioned Protestant revivalists.
There are men of this description now in the field,
who are doing a noble work, not only in looking
after the desolate and abandoned in their wretched
homes, but also in preaching the Gospel with fiery
tongues to the multitudes who are gathered into
these Parochial Missions, and we may well bid
them God-speed, even if some of their modes and
accessories do not altogether suit our taste.

The establishment of guilds and innumerable
societies and orders of various sorts is another not-
able feature of the times. In a multitude of ways
the Episcopal Church is reaching out its hands to
gather in the neglected classes, the men by the
way-side, the strollers in our streets, the non-church-
goers. The parish house, which is now becoming
in so many quarters an appendage to the parish
church, with all its novel equipments, shows how
the range of our work is extending. We are begin-
ning to recognize the fact that we must save the
bodies of men if we would hope to save their souls.
We are teaching them lessons of cleanliness, taking
them out of their rags and clothing them decently,
trying to provide for all the departments of their
being — the intellectual as well as the moral, the
craving after amusement as well as the thirst for
knowledge ; teaching them how to care for them-
selves, and so become good workmen, good citizens,
as well as good Christians. This is perhaps the
most significant feature of our Church-work to-day,

OUTWARD ASPECT OF THE CHURCH. 5 1

and it is reconciling the community at large to the
Episcopal Church as no argument could do. It is
the introduction of the humanitarian element which
is giving us our headway.

As a matter of course the duties of the clergy are
very much increased by all this, and the traditionary
quiet of the parson's study is fast becoming a myth.
I can remember when the parish minister was sup-
posed to have discharged his out-of-door duties if
he made a yearly call upon his parishioners, with a
few extra visits to the sick and afflicted, read the
service and preached twice on the Sunday, opened
his church for Morning Prayer on the Saints' Days,
if he were a High Churchman ; or delivered a
weekly lecture and held a prayer meeting, if he were
a Low Churchman ; and perhaps served as a visitor
in the public schools. Men of an active tempera-
ment might find something else to do, but this was
the ordinary routine, and we had no Guilds and
Women's Auxiliaries and Girls' Friendly Societies
and White Cross Societies and St. Andrew's
Brotherhoods and Parish Houses and Relief Houses
and Temperance Orders and Missionary Conferences
and Ecclesiastical Coffee-houses and Boys' Clubs,
and perhaps a dozen other concerns to look after.
The array of notices read in many of our churches
on Sundays would have sounded as strange in my
early days to the men of that generation as it would
to the ears of an advanced Puritan, if he should hear
repeated on a Sunday morning in the old South
Church, Boston, the same notice that was occasion-
ally read there in early times, when the clerk rose in
his place on the Lord's Day to announce the fact

52 REMIxMISCENCES.

that a certain number of swine were missing, with a
minute description of their build, and a statement of
the reward offered for their recovery.

There are some who think that we are pushing
this extra work to an extreme, and that it would be
well to give our clergy a little more time for study
and preparation for the pulpit, and the good mothers
in Israel a little more time for the discharge of their
domestic duties. This may be, and still all this
extraordinary liveliness is only the effervescence of
a fresh zeal that has come into the Church, for
which, of course, we ought to be grateful. After a
while things will settle down to a more moderate
temperature.

CHAPTER VI.

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH.

I NOW propose to speak of some of the more
vital changes that have taken place in our com-
munion during the last half century. There are a
few great foundation truths which cannot be dis-
placed without destroying the fabric of the Church.
They are what the Church stands for, — that which
makes it a Church, — and if they are removed, the
structure may continue to exist as a school of
ethical culture, as a self-organized club, or as a
humanitarian society, but not as the Church of
Christ.

The fundamental doctrine of the Church is
embodied in the Apostles' and the Nicene creeds,
and in our tests of orthodoxy we have no right to
go beyond these symbols and that which is neces-
sarily involved in them. The baptismal ofifice
assumes that they contain '' all the articles of the
Christian Faith " which are essential. These
formularies have not been in any way impaired, or
their validity seriously questioned within our bor-
ders, since the establishment of the Church in
America. Individual clergymen and laymen may
have denied them, but there has been no tendency
in the direction of unbelief. Wise men may have
gone deeper into the analysis of dogma, tested its
authority more rigorously, dug deeper down in

53

54 REMINISCENCES.

examining the foundations of truth, and attained a
truer and more reasonable conception of God.
They find in the "realms of science and philosophy
wonderful confirmations of the essential truths of
revelation, and the supernatural is no longer in con-
flict with the profoundest thought of the age. It
is no longer necessary to harmonize science and
religion — they give each other mutual support.
The one is the complement of the other, and
neither is conceivable alone. The spiritual finds its
terms of expression in the material, and the material
is the outgrowth of the spiritual. Professor Fiske,
the distinguished defender of evolution, well says,
" Atheism is the denial of anything psychical out-
side of human consciousness," and atheism has
received its. death blow. "If it takes mind to con-
strue the world, how can the negative of mind
suffice to constitute it?" Not many years ago
Frances Power Cobbe said, " It is a singular fact
that whenever we find out how a thing is done our
first conclusion is that God did not do it." I hardly
think she would repeat this to-day.

But while the foundations of our belief have not
been seriously disturbed, it is impossible to deny
that there has been during the last fifty years a
marked change in the style of preaching. Some
familiar topics have dropped out of sight and others
come to the front. Certain things, which once
looked to us very large, have been dwarfed by the
distance of time, and others, as we have come
nearer to them, appear much larger than they once
did. It is a change in the proportions of doctrine,
or rather in its perspective.

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 55

The style of preaching which satisfied our grand-
fathers, and did them good, does not altogether
meet our wants. It was earnest, impressive, search-
ing the conscience to its depths, and yet it seems to
have been somewhat thin and inadequate in the
expression of truth, dealing too much in a conven-
tional phraseology ; not unfrequently inconclusive
in argument and lacking in comprehensiveness and
breadth ; appealing to one department of our
nature and to one class of motives, and those not
always of the highest order.

There was another kind of preaching, which dealt
prominently with the moralities and proprieties of
life, always insisting that ^' virtue must be encour-
aged and vice discountenanced," warning the hearers
with great fervency and frequent reiteration against
*' Rome on the one hand and Geneva on the other,"
and very earnest in denouncing the heated atmos-
phere of enthusiasm.

I do not mean to question the fact that there was,
in the time of which I speak, a fair amount of intelli-
gent, solid, profitable preaching; but if I had space
enough to reproduce a few specimens from certain
ancient sermons that were thought worth publishing,
I think the reader would say that I have not over-
stated the case. It has been said that when a doc-
trine ceases to be habitually preached, it indicates
that the doctrine is dead. This may not always be
true, but any general change in the tone of preach-
ing is a token of some corresponding change in the
Church at large. The pulpit represents the popular
sentiment, as it also to some extent controls it.

It is worthy of notice that the theological disputes

56 REMINISCENCES.

of one age generally cease to be of much interest to
the next, or, at any rate, they assume a new form.
I can recall the time when the doctrine of baptismal
regeneration was a very prominent subject of con-
troversy, and incidentally it was the occasion of a
somewhat limited secession from our communion,
but since the House of Bishops unanimously
declared that, in their opinion, it did not involve
any moral change, we have heard very little about
it. It is no longer worth while for us to waste our
strength in the defense of forms of prayer, as the
tendency in almost every quarter is toward a liturgi-
cal worship, and where that tendency is to stop
nobody can tell. Some years ago a distinguished
doctor of music in the Congregational Church said
to me that, when the time came for a ritual in their
ranks, they would have an advantage in not being
restricted as to the use of Latin in their services.
A prominent Ritualist of our communion once re-
marked, in my presence, that we need not be afraid
of their going to Rome, for they would not be will-
ing, so far as ceremonial went, to stop there ; so it
may be that our outside friends will in process
of time, go far ahead of us in their forms and
ceremonies.

Not long ago we had two well-defined parties in
the Church, and there were few who did not hold
allegiance to one or the other of those parties.
They are now as parties well-nigh extinct, and I
have lived long enough to see the whole process of
extinction. It was very gradual, almost impercepti-
ble, but it was inevitable, for the simple reason that
we had lost our interest in the points at issue. The

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 57

great line of distinction was supposed to be the doc-
trine of justification, and the technical statement
of ''justification by faith alone " was undoubtedly-
made most prominent by what was known as the
Evangelical party, but no High Churchman ever
claimed that he was entitled to salvation on the
ground of his own personal goodness — he must have
been a very conceited creature if he did — and no
Low Churchman would be likely to say that he
expected to be saved without possessing some ele-
ments of personal goodness. The Low Churchman
of the present century was very unlike the Erastian
Gallios of a former age, who were called by the same
name, and at the time of my entering the ministry
the growth of the Church was very much in the
Evangelical direction, and it looked as if this party
might soon attain a decided ascendency. The re-
strictions which it had drawn around itself, both in
its range of work and its codes of doctrine, its want
of sympathy with the tide of thought that was be-
ginning to flow, and the tendency to exclusiveness
which is liable to possess all parties, political and
secular as well as religious, operated to arrest its
growth.

All great truths, in order to be effective, must
adapt themselves to the age upon which they are
brought to bear, and in some way recognize its pre-
vailing modes of thought, its tendencies and necessi-
ties. Christianity is always the same and is always
changing. Some people seem to regard the Church
mainly as a place of deposit for the preservation
of truth — a cistern constructed to hold a certain
amount of water, and if we can manage to keep the

58 REMINISCENCES.

level at the right gauge we should be content.
They ought to remember that the Church which
Christ established was meant to be a living stream,
for the renewal and refreshment of the world — never
at rest, and gathering volume and strength from all
the affluents of science and art and culture.

There will always be differences of opinion in the
Church, as long as men continue to think. One
of our leading theological schools was recently de-
nounced because, instead of being told by the pro-
fessors authoritatively what they ought to believe,
the students, after having been shown all sides of
the doctrine and having the argument in its favor
presented in the strongest possible light, were left
to the exercise of their own individual judgment.
It hardly needs to be said that a faith which is re-
ceived on prescription indicates nothing, except it
be implicit confidence in the doctor who gives the
prescription.

There is a dividing line in all enlightened Christian
bodies, a right and a left in every Church that has
any life in it, whether it be Protestant or Roman,
Non-conformist or Anglican. At the basis of this
division stands the ground of authority — in other
words, the question whether the final arbiter of
doctrine is the witness of our spirit to the spirit of
God, in accordance with Christ's declaration that if
we will do His will we shall know of the doctrine,
whether it be true or not, or the assumption that it
rests primarily, if not exclusively, upon the accuracy
of a book or the infallibility of a man. The author-
ity of the Bishop of Rome in matters of faith is
not as yet recognized in our communion, while the

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 59

Bible continues to be received as the fountain of
moral and spiritual truth, the record of the mind and
will of God, as it always will be. But still the ques-
tion remains, whether we are to accept the doctrine
on the ground that it is found in the Bible, or
whether the Bible is to be accepted because the
doctrine is found there. Of course our private judg-
ment comes in somewhere, and we must accept the
truth, either because zue find it or because it finds
us : appeals to all that is purest and noblest in our
nature, provides for our direst necessities, and lifts
us heavenward. This is the great issue to-day in
every quarter, and it is a fundamental issue — some-
thing that is worth fighting for.

At first it may startle some of our readers when we
say that there has been a change of view during the
last generation in regard to the purpose for which
Christ established His kingdom on earth. We still
believe that it is our great commission ^' to preach
Jesus Christ and Him crucified," to do all that we
can to bring sinners to the knowledge of themselves,
to convict them of sin and make them loathe and
abhor their sin, and then lead them to the Cross for
pardon and salvation and cleansing ; but we begin to
see that really '' to preach Christ " involves some-
thing more than the plucking of a sinner here and
there out of the jaws of hell. We are more and
more impressed with the thought that there are
multitudes of human beings all around us, who can
never be reached by the Gospel so long as their
conditions of existence remain as they are. Their
bodies must be looked after, as well as their souls.
They need a literal baptism of water, as well as a

6o REMINISCENCESo

baptism of the Holy Ghost. They must be clothed and
fed and brought out of the dreary holes in which
they burrow, into the sunlight, where they can breathe
the pure air that God made for them to breathe ;
they must be taught to respect themselves, in order
to become respectable, and made to feel that there
is something worth living for, and that God had a
purpose in their creation and cares for them and
loves them and follows them with His eye, in spite of
all that may appear to the contrary.

And so, as I have said before, we have extended
the range of our work and are now adjusting the
mechanism of the Church in order to meet the
emergency. We are beginning to recognize the fact
that the Gospel must be brought to bear directly
upon society, as well as the individual — its habits and
institutions, its modes of doing business, its politics,
its amusements, and everything else that pertains to
the moral side of our nature.

I have this moment taken up the Year-book of
St. George's Church, New York, and nothing could
more strikingly illustrate the change of which I am
speaking. The contents of this book would have
been a puzzle to the members of old St. George's in
Beekman Street, and I am afraid that good Dr.
Milnor would have shaken his head somewhat
ominously if it had fallen under his inspection. I
am sure that he would not, if he had lived to see
how the change came about, and what has been the
result. These are some of the " Ecclesiastical Insti-
tutions " carried on under the auspices of our Epis-
copal Church : '' Gymnasium, Athletic Club, Tennis
Club, Baseball, Cricket, Bicycle Section, Brother-

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 6l

hood of St. Andrew, Breakfast Battalion, Literary
and Dramatic Clubs, Chinese Sunday-school, Dea-
conesses' House, Free Circulating Library, Girls'
Friendly Society, Industrial Trade School for Boys,
Kitchen Garden, King's Daughters, Church Parochial
Club, Girls' Missionary Guild, Employment Society,
Mothers' Meetings, Relief Department, Sea-side
Work, Penny Provident Fund, Tee-To-Tum and
Community House, Women's Baths," and so on, in-
cluding many other matters more distinctively
churchly and religious.

We believe that in recognizing these things as
pertaining to the kingdom of God, we are not only
following the example of Christ and obeying His
precepts, but we are breaking down the old distinc-
tion between the secular and the religious — not by
making our religion secular, but by trying to bring
all things into conformity with the mind of God.
We cannot believe that He is interested only in our
Sunday work, our church-going and prayers and
sacraments, and has no concern with anything else
that pertains to the welfare of the creatures whom
He has made.

With all this we are getting to have a broader
view of what is meant by the term salvation, believ-
ing that it includes the idea of salvation in this
world as well as in the next. It is impossible to
estimate the evil that has followed the teaching
which led men to suppose that they might go on
sinning all their lives, and then by some magical
process, on the verge of their mortal existence, be-
come suddenly transformed and made fit for the
abode of the blessed. I was brought up with the

62 REMINISCENCES.

idea that my destiny had been determined by the
will of God from all eternity, and accordingly, in my
boyhood, when I was tempted to do something that
was wrong but very attractive, I would say to my-
self, " I am preordained to be converted, or I am
not. If I am to be converted, everything that I
have ever done will be forgiven, and if not, this
particular transgression will make no great differ-
ence." It will be a great gain when young people,
and men and women also, can be made to appre-
hend the fact that destiny must be according to
character, and that, if they continue in sin, the law
of retribution is as inevitable as the law of gravi-
tation.

I was once called to visit a venerable Congrega-
tional minister, who, after having led a long life of
usefulness and singular sanctity, had in his old age
fallen into the delusion that he was not after all one
of the elect, and therefore must be destined to ever-
lasting torment. There was a mournful picturesque-
ness in his appearance, lying there in bed with his
white locks resting on the pillow and his sad saintly
face, on which were written the marks of sorrow and
despair. I encouraged him to tell me everything,
all which I heard without a word of comment, know-
ing that it would be useless to reason with him, and
unwise to express much sympathy with his sorrow.
At last, after he had said, with the tears rolling
down his cheeks, " And now the end is near, and
there is nothing before me but the prospect of being
shut up in hell forever," I replied in a somewhat in-
different tone, " And how do you propose to occupy
yourself after you get there ? " He answered that

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 63

he had not thought about that. I then went on and
quietly asked him, *' If you could find a few gentle-
men down there in sympathy with you, and could
get off with them into some out-of-the-way corner
and sing a few of the good old hymns and talk
about the love and mercy of Jesus, and have a kind
of old-fashioned prayer meeting, would not that be
a relief?" His face brightened as he replied with
great earnestness, *' Nothing could give me more
happiness than that anywhere ! " " Well, then," I
said, '' if that is so, I don't think you need be con-
cerned. If you should present yourself at the gate
of hell and they knew who you were, they wouldn't
let you in; and if you should get in by accident and
the devil should find you getting up prayer meet-
ings on his premises, he wouldn't let you stay there
very long." The good man burst into a laugh and
said, "Surely, it must be so." ''Of course it is," I
replied. ''You couldn't get into hell, because you
are not fit to go there, and you wouldn't know what
to do with yourself if you got in." The cloud lifted,
and the good soul was at peace. How long it lasted
I do not know, but he was comforted for the time.
Of course, his brain was affected, and " there is no
medicine for a mind diseased."

It is thought by many that the change of tone
in the religious life of the age indicates a general
decay of spirituality and a growing indifference to
the fundamental truths of the Gospel. If this is so,
we are in a very bad way, and it is certainly difficult
to account for the wonderful increase in our mis-
sionary work and greatly enlarged contributions for
the extension of the Church of Christ into so many

64 REMINISCENCES.

dark quarters where its influence has never been felt
before ; for the advance in our religious literature,
and the increasing hold that the Church has upon
the community ; and no one with his eyes open can
help seeing that the interest in religious things was
never more extended and real than it is now.

No doubt there is a good deal of loose thinking,
but that is better than no thinking at all. The man
who is groping around in a half-blind way to find
the road is more likely to get there than the man
who sits still and does not move in any direction.
There is nothing more to be dreaded than indiffer-
ence. When was it seen before in the history of
the land that Wall Street in New York and State
Street in Boston were deserted for an hour at noon-
day, to allow the merchants and bankers and all
sorts of men to go and listen for a while where
they could hear something about God and their
souls ?

I have lived through a great many crises, political
and ecclesiastical. I have seen the Church " shaken
to its center " more than once, but somehow it
rights itself and so goes on its way. There is a
great deal of sound common sense still left in the
Church. The Church is not going over to Rome to
be wedged there, neither is she destined to float off
into the shoreless sea of heresy and unbelief. Our
clergy and laity are for the most part moving on in
the quiet discharge of their duties, undisturbed by
any pessimistic predictions of general decay and
ruin. They do not beHeve that the Church is going
to destruction because this man wears a colored
stole and intones his prayers, or because another

CHANGE OF TONE IN THE CHURCH. 65

believes that there is some discrimination to be used
in the interpretation of Scripture. It does not fol-
low that either section of the Church is absolutely
sounds or either absolutely unsound. Things are a
little mixed in this world. If the Church is the
Church of God, it will be saved from ruin ; and if it
is not, the sooner it goes to pieces the better.

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE IN BOSTON.

I HAVE just received a copy of the Journal of the
Massachusetts Diocesan Convention for 1894, a
volume of 382 pages, and I find reported there 225
clergy, 31,036 communicants, and contributions for
rehgious purposes, irrespective of parish expendi-
tures, amounting to $150,525. In the first Conven-
tion that I attended there were only 31 clergy-
men in attendance, 191 3 communicants reported,
and contributions amounting to $8724.

It is fifty-nine years since I took my seat in that
body, but the whole scene stands before me very
distinctly. I recall the quasi Gothic edifice, just
consecrated, and in which I began the exercises of
my ministry ; Bishop Griswold, who retired at the
close of the opening service, as he was not expected
to attend the meetings of all the State conventions,
for this was not a diocesan council, but only a
gathering of one of the bodies grouped in the Con-
vention of the Eastern Diocese, of which I shall
have a word more to say; the quiet, sensible, old-
fashioned High-Church sermon preached by the
Rev. Samuel B. Shaw, who came back in his old age
to die in Rhode Island, his native State — a most
excellent man, who did not appear to need as much
religion to keep him straight as most others, and

66

LIFE IN BOSTON. 67

who died at the age of eighty-six, mourning over
the fact that he could not hve to the year 1900,
because, as he told me with much feeling, '' If I
could only do that, I should be able to say that I
had lived in three centuries," he having been born
in 1799. A short time before his death I saw one
of his sermons lying on the table in the vestry-room
of a church where he had officiated the Sunday
before, and my eye falling upon the text, '' The
days of our age are threescore years and ten," — he
had omitted the remainder of the passage, perhaps
from the feeling that it did not apply to him per-
sonally,— I had the curiosity to look at the fly-leaf
in order to see how old the sermon was, and found
that it was first preached in 1823. I asked him soon
afterward if he had the same emotions, after an
interval of more than sixty years, that he had when
it was first preached ; but he said that he had no
distinct recollection of his state of mind the first
time he delivered the discourse.

The first Bishop of Massachusetts died in 1803,
and his successor lived but a little more than three
months after his consecration and never performed
any Episcopal duty. In 1811 the Rev. Dr. Griswold
was elected Bishop of the Eastern Diocese, which
at the time of its formation comprised all the New
England States except Connecticut. It was a some-
what anomalous condition of things — the annual
address of the bishop was delivered at the meeting
of the Diocesan Convention, while the State Con-
ventions were at liberty to elect their own presiding
officers and conduct their affairs without the pres-
ence of a bishop. For twenty-four years no provi-

68 REMINISCENCES.

sion whatever was made for the support of the
bishop, when the moderate sum of five hundred
dollars was levied upon the States represented in
Convention, for the purpose, as stated, of providing
for the supply of the bishop's church whenever he
might be absent on diocesan duty. This money the
bishop is said to have appropriated to the support
of a missionary in Maine.

After Bishop Griswold ceased to be supported by
a parish as its rector, he never received more than
a thousand dollars a year from the Eastern Diocese,
and it is not easy to see how he could manage to
live as comfortably as he did for a long time upon
such a salary. In his address to the Convention in
1839 ^^^ states that when the Eastern Diocese was
formed, in 1811, there were only 15 clergymen in
the whole jurisdiction — not a single church-edifice
in Vermont, but 4 churches in Rhode Island, in
Massachusetts but 13, in New Hampshire 5, and 2
in Maine. During the first eighteen years of his
Episcopate he admitted 148 to the order of deacons,
and III to the order of priests, traveled 70,000
miles, and confirmed 9853 persons. For many years
he continued to serve the church in Rhode Island
of which he had been the rector, without anyone to
assist him ; at the same time presiding over a theo-
logical school in his own house, to which young
men came for their education, and where the good
Dr. Shaw, of whom I have just spoken, roomed
with the Rev. Dr. Tyng (neither of them were
doctors then), and they are said to have lived
together in the greatest harmony, partly perhaps
because they were so entirely unlike in their temper

LIFE IN BOSTON. 69

and disposition, the one being very combustible and
the other incombustible.

It must have been a toilsome life for the good
bishop, in addition to all his work at home, to
journey periodically over nearly all New England at
a time when the facilities for travel were so poor
and the roads so abominable, but he went through
it all quietly and without complaint, always on
time — unless the coach broke down — shirking no
duty, jogging about silently with his pocket Homer
in his hand, always ready to read but never over-
ready to talk, and usually making it his first inquiry,
when he arrived at his place of destination, " how
soon he would be able to leave" — not because he
wished to slight his work, but from the fear that his
conversational resources might not hold out. It
was my privilege to be an inmate of his family for
some time after my ordination, and I had the oppor-
tunity of knowing him as you know another by liv-
ing with him. After breakfast, as we sat for an
hour by the parlor fire, he would sometimes unbur-
den himself with considerable freedom, and I wish
that I had kept a record of his curt, pithy sayings,
many of which were worth remembering. Humble
and modest as he was, he had a very becoming
sense of what was due to his dignity and office. At
a time when one or two rather high-flying clergy-
men annoyed and irritated him, he said to me, '' I
have observed that the men who magnify my office
most persistently in public are apt to give me the
most trouble in private."

A prominent rector in Boston, having called to
consult him about some parish matters, asked him

70 REMINISCENCES.

incidentally if he did not think it might be well
to get Bishop Hobart's opinion on the subject; a
remark which the good man treasured up, as he was
wont to do in such cases, until the time came for
a settlement. After a while the same clergyman
came to confer with him on some other matter,
when the bishop quietly suggested that he had bet-
ter consult Bishop Hobart.

There was a young deacon in the diocese, an
ignorant and conceited person, who got into the
ministry by one of those side-holes through which
too many are allowed to crawl, and on the occasion
of the bishop's visiting the town where the young
man lived, he called upon him to pay his respects.
It happened that there were several gentlemen of
distinction who had called for the same purpose,
and for an hour or two the young deacon monopo-
lized the conversation, dilating upon his own affairs
and airing all his grievances, until at last the
bishop's patience gave way, and with a quick, sub-
dued sharpness, which no one could appreciate who
never heard him speak, he turned to him and said :
'' Mr. C, you talk like a fool." This did not at all
restrain him, but he went on as before, and then
added : " And now, after all this, my bishop has
called me a fool." " I didn't call you a fool," re-
plied the bishop. *' I said that you talked like one."

At a little clerical dinner at the bishop's house,
where of course there was abundance of talk,
although as usual the bishop himself was very
silent. Dr. Tyng turned to him and said : " Bishop,
why don't you talk more ? " The defect of silence
could not often be charged against the doctor. '' I

LIFE IN BOSTON. 71

talked a great deal when I was young," was the
reply, '' and said a great many foolish things, but I
have never been sorry for anything that I had not
said.

After his delivery of the sermon before the
General Convention he was told that it suited every-
body. " If everj/hody liked it, there must have been
something wrong about it," was his reply. I remem-
ber that the discourse treated of the somewhat
familiar doctrine of "justification by faith." At
that period this was the watchword of a party, but
as there was really no special difference of opinion
about it in the Church, the bishop's reasonable
presentation of the matter was of course acceptable
to all.

The black silk gowns that we always used to wear
in the pulpit were fastened or looped up under-
neath, above the elbow, and as I was once helping
him on with my gov/n I said to him pleasantly,
" I hope that when you get excited in your sermon
and begin to thrash about in the pulpit" — the
bishop was never known to have made a gesture in
his life — " the sleeves will not tumble down," and he
answered, with a faint smile, " I don't preach with
my arms."

As an illustration of the sensitiveness of the period
in regard to any changes in the chancel arrange-
ments, I must be allowed to give the following
extract from the bishop's address in 1841: "It is
pleasing to see the improvement which is generally
being made in the construction of our churches. St.
Stephen's, in Providence, is a beautiful, and, for the
most part, a convenient church. But I was pained

72 REMINISCENCES.

in noticing the uncouth and inconvenient arrange-
ment of the chancel." I may here remark that the
innovation consisted in the substitution of a lectern
in place of a reading-desk, and the use of the Holy
Table for the reading of the prayers — an arrange-
ment adopted, I presume, for want of room. The
good bishop then proceeds : " I trust that none in
this convention need being reminded of the absurd-
ity of going back to the dark ages of Christianity for
the models of our churches, or for the manner of
our worshiping in them, or of adopting any of the
fooleries of ignorance and superstition. God re-
quires us to act as rational beings, and not as idola-
trous heathen. All the services should be performed
in a place and manner the most commodious to the
minister and people. Whether he preaches, or prays,
or administers the ordinances of Christ, he should
be in the view of each and all of the congregation
present ; and in prayer it is quite as fitting that he
should face them as that they should face him. To
turn from them to the communion table implies the
supposition that God is particularly present there, and
sanctions the abominable doctrine of transubstan-
tiation." This was the old St. Stephen's Church; if
the bishop could look in of a Sunday morning upon
the new St. Stephen's of 1894, he might open his
eyes a little wider than he did in 1841.

With a feeble voice and a very quiet manner, it
was wonderful that he could make his sermons so
impressive, but the substance was there, the thing
that men needed — '' the truth as it is in Jesus."
The last sermon that I heard him preach was from
the text, " Gather up the fragments which remain,

LIFE IN BOSTON. 73

that nothing be lost," and it will never be obliter-
ated from my memory. On an afternoon not long
after this someone rushed into my house and said
that Bishop Griswold had just died on Bishop East-
burn's door-step. I lived close by, and in five min-
utes I was looking upon his prostrate form lying on
the floor, wrapped in his dark blue cloak, noble in
death, placid and peaceful as if he were an angel
asleep ; and when the shades of night came on I
took his body to his home, and with my own hands
arranged him for the bed from which he was to rise
no more.

If there ever was a good man, a true man, an
honest disciple of Christ, Bishop Griswold was that
man. He had accomplishments, and he may have
had weaknesses, of which the world knew little, but
his goodness was always conspicuous to all who had
an eye to discern it. He was not likely to shine on
festive occasions, and was not much tempted in that
direction. When he was requested by the diocese
to take up his abode in Boston, he told me that he
hesitated a little, from the fear that his health might
be impaired by too frequently dining out; ^'but,"
he added, '' I have never suffered from that cause,
as I have never been invited out to dine but once,
and that was by one of our own clergymen." I have
dwelt the longer upon the character of this excel-
lent man, as he was the only bishop whom I knew
in the earlier part of my ministry. I was confirmed,
admitted to the diaconate, ordained priest, and mar-
ried by him, and it was by his nomination that I
was called to my first parish — Grace Church, in the
city of Boston.

74 REMINISCENCES.

There were but three other Episcopal churches
in Boston proper when Grace Church was built, and
their influence was not much felt by the community
at large. Unitarianism was at that time in the
height of its prosperity. The historical Old South
Church was the only one of the parishes founded by
the early settlers which had remained true to the old
faith, and such men as Channing, Gannett, Frothing-
ham, Young, Pierpont, Putnam, Walker, the Wares,
and the Peabodys represented the highest culture
and the strongest social influence. The Episcopal
communion was regarded as a respectable scion of
the old Anglican stock, which, under the adminis-
tration of the Colonial Governors, forced itself upon
the town and took arbitrary possession of some
of their meeting-houses for the English services.
King's Chapel had also gone over to what was
called the Arminian faith, although it still retained
all the outward emblems of the original edifice — as
indeed it does to this day, even to the wooden latch
on the pulpit-door and the Creed over the altar,
continuing also to use a disembowelled Book of
Common Prayer, which, at the first glance, might be
supposed to be the same liturgy that was used in
the beginning.

There were but three of our clergy having paro-
chial charge in Boston at the time of my settlement
there. The Rev. William Croswell was the rector
of Christ Church at the north end, which is now the
oldest church standing in the city, while the region
surrounding it has become for the most part the
abode of Jews, Germans, Irish, Portuguese, Spaniards,
and Italians, and the old glory has departed. Dr.

LIFE IN BOSTON. 75

Croswell was a very accomplished and attractive
man, simple and quiet in his habits, a sort of George
Herbert in the style of his religion, but very fixed
and firm when he saw fit to be so ; the writer of a
few exquisite poems, and one of the prominent
leaders in the new movement from Oxford, whose
first waves were just beginning to strike our Ameri-
can shores. He was not intended to play the part
of a combatant, but when the trumpet sounded he
was found in his ecclesiastical saddle, with his armor
on. He fell suddenly at his post in the chancel,
just as he would have wished to do, and was borne
away insensible, to be seen no more.

Dr. Wainwright was the rector of Trinity Church,
afterward made provisional bishop of New York,
an office that was very congenial to him, and the
duties of which he discharged with great fidelity
and zeal. In less than two years after his consecra-
tion he was removed by death, unable to endure
any longer the experiences and exposure of his new
mode of life.

Dr. John S. Stone was the rector of St. PauFs
Church, one of the strongest leaders of the evan-
gelical school, a profound thinker, clothing his
thoughts in singularly forcible words and adorning
his discourse with beautiful illustrations and elo-
quent appeals. He was an absent-minded man, as
men of his style are apt to be, and, like Isaac New-
ton, was Hkely to forget whether he had eaten his
dinner or not. A very near friend of his, much
given to facetious things, once dropped in upon him
just after dinner-time, expressing his regret at hav-
ing been so late in arriving, when the simple-hearted

76 REMINISCENCES.

doctor, with some embarrassment, intimated in the
most delicate way that he had entirely forgotten
inviting him to dinner on that day ; adding that he
was just then keeping bachelor's hall, and did not
really know whether there was anything in the
house to make a dinner of or not. " Never mind
about that," said his friend, " there is a shop close
by, and we can extemporize a little dinner easily
enough." This much relieved his heart, and a very
respectable repast was soon provided. After it was
all over, the doctor was quietly informed by his
guest that he had not been invited at all. He was
too kind-hearted to take offense.

It seems to me very strange that this little band
should have comprised the whole Episcopal clerical
force in Boston, which to-day abounds with priests
and deacons of all shades and degrees.

CHAPTER VIII.

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA.

In the year 1843 I found myself in Philadelphia,
often spoken of in those days as the "Paradise of
Ministers," and not entirely without reason. The
clergy were an influential element of society, and it
was the custom of the people to go to church regu-
larly, morning and afternoon ; they looked after their
rector carefully, and kept him well supplied with the
comforts and sometimes with the luxuries of life,
occasionally stocking his cellar with live terrapin —
which it would be ruinous to do in these days — fill-
ing the house on Christmas Eve with the best speci-
mens of their domestic cooking, and testing his
powers of digestion by perpetual tea parties, which,
during the first part of my sojourn in that city, filled
up nearly every vacant evening in the week. The
good people also kept a strict watch over their pas-
tor's behavior and habits, of which I had a striking
illustration soon after I was settled in St. Andrew's
Church. I went one afternoon very innocently to
a concert of music, when, to my surprise, the Rev.
Dr. Bethune, a distinguished minister of the Dutch
Reformed Church, crossed the hall, and taking me
by the hand, thanked me very heartily for my ap-
pearance there. I asked him what he meant, and
he replied that he was glad to see me because it
kept him in countenance; "for, do you not know

77

78 REMINISCENCES.

that you are here at the risk of your reputation as a
Christian minister?" In connection with this I may
remark that in the Life of Dr. Bedell, the first rector
of St. Andrew's, it is stated that he was very fond
of music, and especially of sacred oratorios, which
he was in the habit of attending until he found that
it gave offense to his parishioners, "when," as his
biographer says, "he wisely abstained from going
any more."

During the early part of the century the Episcopal
Church in Philadelphia had large accessions from
the Quaker fold, as was evident from the Friendly
aspect of the congregations, the plain bonnets and
drab colors being very conspicuous in some of our
churches. The intelligence and social standing of
the Friends gave new substance and strength to our
communion, and it did not require a long time to
convert the peaceful and orderly Quaker into a
thorough and consistent Churchman.

The party lines in our borders were at that time very
clearly defined, as was always apparent in a contested
election or the discussion of a controverted topic;
and the delicacy of balance in the two parties was
more than once illustrated by the election of a new
bishop turning upon a single vote. The personal
and social relations of the clergy and laity were not
seriously disturbed by this difference of sentiment,
neither were the outward and visible tokens of dis-
tinction very numerous or striking. No one, how-
ever, could expect to be called to an Evangelical
church if he bowed in the Creed, and no Low Church
rector was regarded as faithful to his trust unless
he cultivated the informal prayer meeting.

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 79

The chapel of St. Andrew was a large building,
and it was well filled on Saturday evenings, when
the prayer meeting held its high function, always
beginning, from the days of Dr. Bedell onward, with
the hymn

Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone,

followed by the minister's reading a portion of
Scripture and offering an extempore prayer, the
remainder of the time being occupied by the sing-
ing of hymns and prayers offered by a few elderly
men of high repute for piety, who rarely, if ever,
violated the laws of propriety and good taste,
although there might be some degree of sameness
in their petitions. Occasionally a younger person,
more inflamed by zeal, would take occasion to lay
the supposed short-comings of the rector in word
and doctrine before the Lord, and implore that he
might be directed from above to improve his ways,
but this was a very rare occurrence. I was once
tossed about in prayer on a sea of extraordinary
metaphors by a recent convert from the Quakers,
whose good mother told me that she wished her son
would reserve some of his religion for home con-
sumption, or words to this effect. A crisis did occur
at a certain time when I was put in some peril, and
that was occasioned by the introduction of the
responsive reading of a portion of the Psalter, which
resulted in my receiving a paper, signed by a large
number of excellent ladies, protesting against the
innovation. It was a great relief when our meetings
were brightened by the presence of distinguished
clergymen from abroad, among whom I recall most
distinctly and pleasantly the late Bishop Johns and

So REMINISCENCES.

the Rev. Dr. Sparrow. At that period the Sunday-
could hardly be regarded as a day of rest, with the
usual order of duties allotted to the day — Sunday-
school at nine o'clock, Morning Service and sermon
at ten and a half, second session of the Sunday-
school at two, afternoon service at three or four, and
very possibly another public service at night. This
is what Robertson called "The Religious Non-observ-
ance of the Sabbath." The sermons written and
preached in Boston were not in all respects adapted
to the spiritual atmosphere of Philadelphia. Some
time after I was settled in St. Andrew's, an intelli-
gent woman said to me, "Why do you consume so
much of your time in trying to prove things? We
have no doubts." What the people wanted was to
have the truths of the Gospel set before them in a
clear, intelligible light, and then pressed home upon
the conscience as strongly and earnestly as possible.
Sermons on controverted points, ecclesiastical or
polemical, they cared little about. Some of the
most successful and useful preachers of the period
were far from being scholarly men, or endowed with
any pre-eminent intellectual gifts, but they replen-
ished the kingdom of God and brought many to
Christ. I

I have some hesitation in venturing to speak of
my clerical contemporaries in Philadelphia. They
have all departed this life but one, the Rev. Dr.
Spear, who still lives, although his work is done.
They were good men and able men in their several
ways — some of them very good and able.

The Rev. Dr. Morton was the last to leave us,
continuing to the end in the parish which he had

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 8 1

served so faithfully for a long period of years, with-
out ever having said or done anything to give
offense ; a most courteous gentleman and irreproach-
able Christian, with a mind attuned to poetry and
music, and who might have attained eminence as a
painter if he had given himself to artistic pursuits.
His smile and his voice were enough to win one's
heart, and yet, behind all this, there ran a vein of
humor that might have made mischief, if it had not
been under such perfect control. I recall an article
from his pen in one of our Church papers, written
many years ago, purporting to describe, after the
fashion of the day, the visitation of a bishop, his re-
ception at the station, the sumptuous entertainment
provided for him, the sermon on Sunday — the open-
ing portion being read by the Rev. Mr. A. — the
Lessons by the Rev. Dr. B., distinguished for his
admirable elocution — the Prayers and Litany by the
Rev. Mr. C. — the Ante-Communion office by the
rector, who also announced the Hymns with his
usual distinctness; and the sermon preached by the
bishop, able and eloquent as he always is, moving
many to tears. Then followed a marvelous descrip-
tion of the church edifice in which the service was
held, with its brilliant windows, well-cushioned
pews, chancel decorations, which in those days were
not conspicuous, and so on at some length. This,
however, was a gift rarely exercised by Dr. Morton ;
his real work was always serious and stately.

The Rev. Dr. Richard Newton comes next to mind,
of a different type of churchmanship — an earnest,
godly, rousing preacher, with a tinge of Calvinism still
lingering about him — almost to the end, impatient

82 REMINISCENCES.

of what he considered vital error, but personally
kind and charitable to all. He was one of the few
men who know how to preach to children ; he never
talked to them about "nascent institutions," and
"jubilant occasions," and "drawing inferences," but
he used the language that was familiar to them, and,
as might be expected, he was in demand everywhere
when they wanted to have a rousing time for the
children. His stock of anecdotes and illustrations
was absolutely inexhaustible, and he could find "ser-
mons in stones," as everybody knows who ever heard
his discourse on the stones mentioned in Scripture.
He left behind him two sons in the ministry, both
of them marked men, although in somewhat different
ways, who can be said to have the courage of their
own convictions, and not merely "the courage of
other men's convictions."

The Rev. Mr. Odenheimer, afterward the Bishop
of New Jersey, was just coming upon the scene, and
very early began to indicate the place which he was
destined to take in the Church. He belonged to the
advanced guard of the ecclesiastical school, as it
then stood, although he never went to any vicious
extremes, and never lost the spiritual fervor which
his Presbyterian training gave him. He was as kind
and amiable as a man could be; indefatigable in the
discharge of his duties, and never seeming to need
any rest. I have had a special interest in Bishop
Odenheimer, partly perhaps because I have so often
been mistaken for him, and on one occasion found it
difficult to convince a stranger that I was not the
Bishop of New Jersey ; he insisting upon it that I
must be, saying with rather an angry emphasis that

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 83

he knew Bishop Odenheimer well enough to identify
him.

The Rev. Dr. Duchachet was a prominent man in
his day, his Gallic exuberance testifying to the
French blood that ran in his veins. I heard the
bishop of the diocese say that he would show all the
symptoms of inebriety after drinking an ordinary
cup of tea. He was an active, brilliant, attractive
man, quick in retort and with a special gift in the "art
of putting things." I once told him that I had, under
the same cover with the sermon that I preached
before the Pennsylvania Convention a while before,
the printed copy of a charge recently delivered in a
country town at a Presbyterian ordination, which
was a transcript of my own discourse, with a few
phrases altered here and there to suit the occasion.
He asked me if I would let him have the two docu-
ments for publication side by side in the Ba?iner of
the Cross, a paper with which he was connected, and
I declined, saying that I would never expose
a man to reproach who had discrimination enough
to make use of my thoughts in public. He hesi-
tated a moment and then said very seriously : "Well,
this only confirms my first impression, that you must
both have stolen from the same source."

Dr. Tyng was altogether the most conspicuous man
in our ranks, and the one whom I had best known,
as we were townsmen, and I could not remember the
time when his name was not a household word.
When he came to preach in Newburyport the whole
town was stirred, and for once in the year old St.
Paul's Church was crowded. His preaching was in a
different strain from that to which the people were

84 REMINISCENCES.

accustomed, and not altogether acceptable to some;
his own father, a Churchman of the old school, not
being over-fond of his son's doctrine. Of Dr.Tyng's
general characteristics and career it would be super-
fluous to speak; we have all recognized him as one
of the most prominent features in the history of the
Church — a man who has brought multitudes into the
fold of Christ and wielded an influence on the plat-
form which has never been surpassed. He had his
peculiarities, as everybody knows, and when he
touched an explosive bubble with his lighted candle
there was not much left. He was not over-patient
in dealing with sentimental sorrows, but if a person
went to him with a real burden and actually desirous
to find the way of truth, no one could be more ten-
der and considerate and sympathetic. His life has
been twice written — once by himself, after he had
apparently forgotten some things in his early career,
and again by his friends with much care and dis-
crimination. There were features in his life which
some staid persons might think it derogatory to his
memory to perpetuate, but not by any who would
like to know just what a great man was, and not
what we think he ought to have been. I shall try
not to violate the confidence of friendship or infringe
upon the proprieties of social life, although this may
be questioned when I say that I shall begin with a
little sketch of Dr. Tyng as the supposed conductor
of a circus.

Between fifty and sixty years ago, when we were
passing our summer vacation together in Newbury-
port, the doctor proposed that we should make up
a party on horseback, and ride over in the afternoon

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 85

to Amesbury, a little town a few miles off, which is
noted as the residence of the poet Whittier. With
our two families united we made up quite a respect-
able display, the female portion of the group being
in the majority, and so we started for Amesbury.
It happened to be the day preceding the Fourth of
July, and as they were expecting a circus to visit
the place at that time, the boys, who were on the
lookout, when they saw this strange cavalcade
approaching — women on horseback being an un-
wonted sight in that region — cried out at the top of
their voices, "The circus is coming!" As soon as
these sounds were heard the doctor said : "We must
carry out this thing for a while, and I will ride in
front, while you form in line and obey my orders."
This we did with great success, our captain conduct-
ing himself with more than ordinary gravity, and
before the performance was over we found ourselves
in the midst of a dense crowd, and word was given
to halt. Dr. Tyng then improved the occasion,
after informing them that we were not the real cir-
cus, by stating that there was to be a service in St.
James' Church on the next Saturday evening, and
they must all be there and bring everybody else
with them ; and now he said, "Give us three round
cheers and we will be off!" and so amid the cheer-
ing we galloped away. I presume that the beneficial
results of the circus performance appeared on Satur-
day night.

On another occasion there was a great gathering
in the Academy of Music in New York, for the
benefit of the children of the various city societies,
who were assembled on the stage in crowds, and I

86 REMINISCENCES.

was one of the speakers appointed to address the
meeting. The little life that I had in me at the
beginning was pretty thoroughly extinguished by
the weary speeches to which we were obliged to
listen, and feeling that I had no capacity left to rise
above their level — and I was to close the meeting —
I whispered to the chairman that the whole thing
was killed unless he could induce Dr. Tyng, who
was on the platform, to say something. He replied
that he had been entreating him to do so, but he
utterly refused. I then told him that I thought I
could bring the doctor to his feet, and accordingly,
after saying a few stupid words to the fashionable
audience, I turned to the children and told them
that as this was their affair, I thought something
should be said to them. "And now," I began,
after the accredited form, "I am going to tell you
a story. In the town where I was born and brought
up there was once a remarkable little boy, who
always wanted to be doing something, and when
the vacation came he was very miserable because he
had to be idle. So one morning he went to his
aunt, who had charge of him, and said : 'Aunt Becca,
I don't know what to do with myself!' and she
replied: 'Stephen, take a case-knife and go out and
scrape one of the old apple trees in the orchard.'
Well, not to make the story too long, before he got
through — and he was a week about it — he had
scraped all the trees in the garden and entirely wore
out the case-knife. This little boy grew up to be a
man, and kept on scraping things all the time, try-
ing to make them look brighter and better, and he
is still alive, and he lives in this city, not far from

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA. 8/

this place, and he is in this house to-night, and he
is on this platform, and his name is Dr. Tyng, and
I am sure he will not let you go home to-night
without saying something to you." This brought
him to his feet, and he began, as I supposed he
would, by settling accounts with me, telling them
what I used to do when I was a tadpole minister, as
he expressed it, drawing somewhat copiously upon
his imagination for his facts, and then going on in
his wonderful way to make them all laugh and all
cry; in short, he "saved the meeting."

The reply that he once made to a mild-mannered
parishioner, who took the liberty of saying to him
that his people would be very much gratified if he
would restrain his temper a little, is probably familiar
to the reader: "My dear sir, I have restrained more
temper in half an hour than you ever did in your
whole life." After a somewhat lively scene, when
he had begun to cool off, I observed that "I could
account for these occasional ebullitions of feeling,
because I knew how much quicksilver there was in
his veins, for which his ancestors were responsible,"
when he broke in, "Don't call it quicksilver, call it
sin — that is what it is ; but no one knows how I
struggle and pray and fight to keep my temper in
subjection."

The election of Professor Alonzo Potter to the
Episcopate of Pennsylvania occurred in 1845, ^"^
was a notable event. After the accredited candi-
dates of the two great parties were defeated, of
which number I happened to be one — although, in
the event of my election, I think that I should have
had sense enough to decline — the name of Dr. Potter

SS REMINISCENCES.

was presented to the Convention, and to my great
delight he was elected, but only by a majority of
one on the part of the clergy — a nomination which
at once was unanimously confirmed by the laity.
It was a great event in the history of the diocese and
the Church. A man of noble presence, he at once im-
pressed you as one born to rule — as a leader of men,
z. jure divino leader. He had had large and varied
experience of men, and had accustomed himself to
look closely at whatever subject might be submitted
to his inspection, and to look at it on all sides. He
regarded the Church as having other functions
besides the preservation of dogma and the perpetua-
tion of ecclesiastical institutions; he regarded it as
God's instrument for the elevation and redemption
of mankind, and directly concerned with everything
that pertains to the moral elevation of the human
race. For this reason he took great interest in the
establishment of educational and humanitarian
institutions, and was very active in what was known
as the Memorial Movement, which had for its object
the removal of some of the fetters which in days
past shackled the Church and impaired its useful-
ness. He longed to see the standard of theological
training lifted to a higher plane, and such text-
books introduced and such modes of teaching as are
demanded by the necessities of the age in which we
live. His whole mental tone was in striking con-
trast to that of his great contemporary, the late Car-
dinal Newman, who would have the universe revolve
around one or two centers of thought, and cared for
nothing that could not be brought within that orbit.
Bishop Potter never stultified his reason in order to

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIA, 89

bring within the range of his belief silly stories of
winking Madonnas, and miraculous liquefaction of
blood, and all the other foolish things which, by
some strange twist of his mind, Dr. Newman man^
aged to accept. Bishop Potter addressed himself to
the real wants of humanity, its actual spiritual and
moral necessities. He found a place for Christian
truth in the domain of philosophy and science, and
feared no contest with either. He accepted as divine
the revelations of God, wherever they were to be
found and however they might be disclosed, and so
he has left his mark upon the Church and upon the
world in a way that can never be obliterated. I
shall never forget the debt I owe him, when, in a
period of such perplexity and doubt that the found-
ations seemed to be sinking under my feet, he came
to my rescue and showed me v/here the rock was to
be found that could never be shaken. His life was
too short. We need such men sorely in these times.
One of the most important sessions of the General
Convention that we have ever had met in St.
Andrew's Church during the period of my rector-
ship. It was distinguished by the presence of a
great many eminent laymen, who took a very active
part in its proceedings — such men as Edward A.
Newton of Massachusetts, Samuel H. Huntington
of Connecticut, Julian C. Verplank and David B.
Ogden of New York, Horace Binney of Pennsyl-
vania, Judge Chambers of Maryland, Isaac B. Parker
of New Jersey, William H. Macfarland of Virginia,
Levi Woodbury of New Hampshire, John M. Ber-
rien of Georgia, E. G. Memminger of South Caro-
lina, and many others of high rank and influence.

QO REMINISCENCES.

The opening sermon was preached by Bishop Ives
of North Carolina, who soon after entered the
Roman Church; it was not a discourse that made
any special impression, and the bishop did not
appear to be in very good humor that morning, for
when I conveyed to him some slight message from
the presiding bishop, he replied in a rude way that
he understood his business and did not need advice
from any quarter.

The House of Bishops, twenty-five in number,
were comfortably accommodated in the vestry-room
of St. Andrew's Church, which at the present time
would furnish very inadequate quarters for the
crowd.

It was about the time of Dr. Newman's abandon-
ment of the English communion that the Conven-
tion met, and the Church was agitated to its center
by the hopes and fears incident to the Oxford
revival, as it is now sometimes called. The discus-
sions of the Convention with all the resolutions pro
and con debated, amended, modified, and all at last
laid on the shelf, ended with the conclusion that the
only thing to be done was to do nothing, and trust
to the conservative and recuperative power of the
Church to right itself and keep its head above water.
The ReVo Dr. Forbes, who had been suspected of
unsoundness to the Protestant faith, made an elab-
orate speech in his defense, and shortly after gave
in his adhesion to the Church of Rome, from which,
after a fair experiment, he returned to his old home,
* 'discharged — ciircdr

The contest waged fierce and strong and fasci-
nated the gallery visitors, mostly of the gentler sex,

REMOVAL TO PHILADELPHIAo 9I

to such a degree 'hat they brought their dinners
with them, in order to retain their seats for the day.
At that time no one could foresee the form which
things were destined to assume: the wiping out of
the party lines which then divided the Church, the
new issues that have come to the surface, the extra-
ordinary changes in the aspect of our churches and
the style of our services, the ripening of Evangelical
fervor in quarters that once bore the label of "high
and dry," and the melting away of the sharp-lined
doctrinal lines that distinguished the other section
of the Churchc

The grand dramatic feature of the Convention
was the arraignment and defense of the Rev. Dr.
Hawks, who had been elected Bishop of Mississippi,
and on the presentation of his papers to the Conven-
tion for approval was vigorously assailed on the
charge of gross irregularities in the conduct of
financial affairs in the great school which he had
started, and which proved to be a lamentable failurCc
I shall never forget the scene when Dn Hawks rose
to make his defense. The church was crowded to
its utmost capacity, the bishops filled the chancel,
and the hush of death pervaded the edifice, as the
doctor left the pew and took his place in the aisle
facing the crowd, to plead for his life, or for that
which to him was dearer than life. Always grand
and eloquent, it is easier to understand how eloquent
he must have been with such an issue as this before
him. Hour after hour his majestic voice resounded
through the church, sometimes trembling like the
deep sub-bass of the organ, then quivering with a
gentle pathos that brought tears to many an eye.

92

REMINISCENCES.

striking chord after chord as only a master of speech
could do, and all the while avoiding as far as pos-
sible all discussion of the actual merits of the case.
It was late in the evening when he closed his touch-
ing and powerful appeal, and instantly the Rev.
Dr. Strong of Massachusetts, with the tears rolling
down his eyes, moved that the Convention proceed
at once to sign his testimonials. If the vote had
been taken immediately, it is very probable that the
doctor's motion would have passed by acclamation ;
but Judge Chambers of Maryland, who never lost
his head, rose and said that, judging from his own
feelings, he did not think the Convention was sufifi-
ciently composed to act at once, and moved an
adjournment. The next day, when the vote was
taken, good Dr. Strong voted against the confirma-
tion. It all resulted in referring the whole matter
back to the diocese of Misssisippi, and there the
matter ended.

CHAPTER IX.

RETURN TO BOSTON.

After a few years I found myself again in Bos-
ton, a city to which men are much inclined to return
after they have once had a residence there. The
clerical atmosphere differed somewhat from that of
Philadelphia; the clergy were not as prominent an
element as in the old Quaker city ; they were not
treated with as much deference or so likely to be
spoiled by attention. The code of clerical proprieties
was not precisely the same ; it did not damage a
minister's reputation to go to a concert, or even to
attend the Sunday night Handel and Haydn ora-
torios, which the best Christians patronized without
scruple. Conventional morality changes color, like
the chameleon, with the change in the atmosphere.

The Episcopal Church in Boston was creeping
slowly along when I returned in 1847; the Church
of the Messiah and St. Matthew's Church in South
Boston were struggling with the trials of childhood ;
St. Stephen's, a free church for the poor, had been
started by the Rev. E. M. P. Wells, a man who
sacrificed all his personal comforts for the good of
others, keeping open house night and day for all
the wretched tramps who might turn up ; and a
chapel for seamen had also come into being. Dr.
. Croswell had removed to Western New York, but,
in accordance with the instinct of which I have just

93

94 REMINISCENCES.

spoken, had returned to Boston and become the
rector of the Church of the Advent, destined to
make an important change in the ecclesiastical
atmosphere. Dr. Wainwright had gone to New
York, soon to become the bishop of the diocese,
and Dr. Stone had removed to Brooklyn, after a
v^^hile to come back to Boston, as Dr. Croswell did,
and as I did, and as Dr. Alexander H. Vinton a
few years later did.

It is of this distinguished presbyter that I now
propose to speak. He was a ponderous man, not
only in his physical frame, but in the spiritual power
manifesting itself in his countenance and in the
tones of his majestic, resonant voice. In many
respects he had no superior in the ranks of our
ministry. His mind was well stored in every depart-
ment, and with all its furniture orderly arranged.
He may not have been a very erudite scholar in any
one department, but he knew all that one needs to
know in order to the discharge of the highest
duties of life. What he read he digested, and what
he had digested he remembered, and his knowledge
was always at his command when it was needed.
This was particularly evident when he was called to
speak without any time for preparation, especially
if he spoke under the impulse of righteous exaspera-
tion, when his words came like the irresistible move-
ment of a cataract. Singularly enough, even in such
a case as this, you were conscious of an amount of
reserved power, resources that had not yet been
drawn upon ; the waters seemed to flow like a foun-
tain that could never be exhausted. There are
those living who will never forget how his voice

RETURN TO BOSTON. 95

thundered and his eye flashed when, in the General
Convention, a measure was brought forward which
he felt deserved to be treated with scorn and against
which all the noble elements of his nature rose in
opposition. At such times it was a dangerous thing
to come within reach of his saber, which did terrible
execution wherever it fell.

As a preacher he united in the most harmonious
manner the elements of thoughtfulness, rigid reason-
ing, rich and varied illustrations, tenderness of feel-
ing, and unsparing faithfulness. I remember with
much distinctness sermons that I heard him preach
more than half a century ago ; they were of the
kind that are not merely painted on the memory,
but bicrned in, so that they became indelible.

His gifts in familiar conversation were perhaps
more remarkable than his public utterances, and I
have often thought that he was at his best when,
seated in his study chair, with his inevitable pipe in
hand, he poured himself forth as if talk were with
him one of the fine arts. He enjoyed this sort of
intellectual exercise more than he did platform
speech-making, and far more than he did the task of
writing; for, although he gave his whole heart and
mind to it when he did write, it was an effort for
him to sit down and deliberately address himself to
the task. For this reason he would sometimes make
one piece of composition serve several purposes, and
I have read one of the sermons that I heard him
preach as a magazine article, which had also been
delivered as a lyceum lecture. Active as he was,
so far as the operations of his mind were concerned,
there was a natural inertia in his constitution which

96 REMINISCENCES.

sometimes made it hard to keep him to his work.
I recall a missionary meeting in my own church, for
which I relied almost entirely upon him, and just
before his time came he whispered to me that he
could not say anything, as we were at that moment
enduring one of those wet-blanket addresses which
take the warmth out of everything. In my wrath I
told him that if he failed me that night I would
never have anything more to do with him, and this
settled the matter.

It was not very generally known that he had a
great passion for mechanics, and excelled particularly
in the manufacture of fishing-rods. His patient
endurance as a fisherman was never exhausted, and
he would toss about on the waves all day, content
with a few respectable nibbles and one or two minia-
ture fish.

During one winter I passed all the Monday morn-
ings with him, when we read aloud, each in his turn,
a synopsis of the various forms of modern philosophy ;
after which we went to dinner and entertained the
ladies with such technicalities as "The potence of
subsumption," "The intuitional consciousness,"
"The categorical imperative," and so on, introduced
where they would be most inappropriate. The ele-
ment of humor was not at all conspicious in Dr. Vin-
ton, but it lay coiled up in its place, ready for a
spring when the occasion offered.

Beginning his career as an unbeliever, his mind
was for the first time seriously impressed by the
sweet patience and placid resignation of a young
woman whom he was visiting as a physician, and he
could not help saying to himself, "There must be

RETURN TO BOSTON. 97

something worth looking into in a Christian faith
that is able to inspire such a sufferer as this with so
much quietness and peace," and after her death he
took in hand the reading of Butler's Analogy, and
this determined the whole tenor of his life ; he gave
up his practice as a physician, and entered upon his
great career as a minister of Christ. From that time
his faith never faltered; sustained and stimulated
by a deep and real Christian earnestness, he was
ready on all occasions to vindicate the honor of his
Master and press His claims home upon the careless
and unbelieving, and at last, when the end came, he
sank quietly to rest in the arms of the Saviour, in
whom he had trusted for many a year.

During my stay in Boston as his assistant in
Trinity Church, my relations to Bishop Eastburn
were of a somewhat delicate nature. It was pre-
scribed by the terms of the foundation upon which
the assistantship was based, that the assistant
should read the service once and preach once on
every Sunday, and also read Morning Prayer on
every alternate Saint's Day, and here his duties
ended. I was never asked to preach in the mornings
when the regular congregation were presumed to be
present, except on one occasion, when the Bishop
told me that as he had used up all his ordination
sermons, he was obliged to ask me to preach on the
next Sunday morning, when a young man was to be
admitted to deacon's orders.

If there ever was a man who never covered up
things, or did anything under false pretenses. Bishop
Eastburn was that man. The Rev. Dr. Clement M.
Butler told me that on the morning of a Sunday in

98 REMINISCENCES.

midsummer he dropped into the vestry room of
Trinity Church just before service, and to his sur-
prise the bishop asked him to preach. "I am
astonished at this," said the doctor; "I thought you
never invited anyone to preach in the morni7ig.''
"That is my rule," was the reply, "but this is" a very
hot day and there will be hardly anybody there, and
I think you had better preach."

Few men ever have a stronger hold upon his
people than Dr. Eastburn possessed when he was
the rector of the Church of the Ascension in New
York. He was regarded as the model pastor, and
all his ministrations were most acceptable to the
people of his charge. It was a parish which he had
formed and fashioned after his own model, and from
the beginning there had always been the most entire
confidence and sympathy between him and his con-
gregation. It was the reputation which he had
thus acquired in New York, and the very favorable
impression made by a brief missionary address
delivered in Boston, that led to his election to the
bishopric of Massachusetts. That election was
absolutely unanimous on the first balloting, with the
exception of one blank vote, and the bishop entered
upon his new career with the hearty support and full
confidence of all sections in the Church. Every-
thing went very smoothly at first, or would have
done so but for the apprehension of some persons
that the bishop was inclining rather too favorably
toward the High Church party — an anxiety that was
soon relieved by very decided demonstrations in the
opposite direction. Another cloud appeared in the
horizon when those who had been most active in

RETURN TO BOSTON. 99

securing him the rectorship of Trinity Church began
to wince under his direct and searching sermons and
the undiluted evangelical doctrine that he persis-
tently preached, and they were accustomed to say
that he did not seem to understand the tone and
temper of the region to which he had been called.
It is very true that the atmosphere of Massachusetts
was not altogether congenial to him, and it never
became so; neither was the ecclesiastical tone of
some of the clergy entirely satisfactory to his mind.
It was said, at the time of his death, that his loss
was much deplored by one or two of the more
gladiatorial clergy of the diocese, because they had
always regarded him "as a foeman worthy of their
steel."

In his way, Bishop Eastburn was a very strong
churchman. In the administration of affairs he was
rigid and scrupulous, sometimes a little over-scrupu-
lous. Under no circumstances would he administer
confirmation privately, on the ground that it was
recognized by the Church only as a public ordinance,
and for similar reasons he would never read the
Burial office in a private house. If, in visiting a
church, he observed that the minister did not bow
in the Creed, he was sure to reach him when the time
came for the bishop to address the Sunday-school.
"Children," he would say, "do you bow reverently
when you repeat the blessed name of Jesus in the
Creed?" and it is easy to imagine what would be
likely to follow. He once rebuked me for catechiz-
ing the children from the chancel in my black gown,
after I came down from the pulpit, and said that he
wished me hereafter to go back to the vestry room

loo REMINISCENCES.

and put on my surplice again, as the chancel should
never be entered in any other garb.

It was enough for the bishop that a thing was
already established, and that was a sufficient reason
for its continuance. The suggestion of any change
in the Book of Common Prayer was to him intoler-
able. When the expediency of modifying the preface
to the Confirmation office was under discussion in
the House of Bishops, he opposed it with all his
might, declaring that to him it was one of the most
precious things in the book, and that he had found
it invaluable in stemming the tide of heresy and
unbelief in his own diocese.

His love for the Church was in some degree attrib-
utable to its having been imported from England.
He happened to be born there, and never entirely
recovered from it, continuing to the end of his days
always to drink Her Majesty's health on the recur-
rence of the Queen's birthday.

The introduction of any novelties in the Church
disturbed him very much, whether pertaining to
doctrine or usage. If a flower was to be seen in
the chancel, nothing would induce him to enter it.
When a member of the House of Bishops was once
pleading, in behalf of certain new usages, that we
should soon get used to them, saying that the time
was when flowers Vv^ere ofi'ensive to some persons,
"but," he added, "who cares for flowers now?" "I
care about flowers," cried the good bishop at the
top of his voice, and without rising from his seat.

I was present at the consecration of a church in
Boston, when one of the oldest clergymen present,
as his turn came, began to read the Creed, stand-

RETURN TO BOSTON. lOI

ing between the reading desk and the communion
table, with his face turned toward the altar, when
the bishop in a whisper said, "Turn round," of
which the aged presbyter took no notice. The
bishop then repeated the mandate in a louder tone,
but to no purpose, until he insisted that his direc-
tion must be complied with, or someone else would
be called to go on with the service, when, by the
gentle compulsion of one of his friends, the vener-
able but somewhat obstinate clergyman took his
place in the desk and the service proceeded. It
was not an edifying scene.

It may be remembered that the bishop refused
to visit the Church of the Advent, which, in his
time, represented the most advanced school of
churchmanship, until, in order to meet this case,
the General Convention enacted a canon, making it
obligatory upon the bishops to visit every church
within their jurisdiction as often as once in three
years. With this law the bishop, of course, felt
himself obliged to comply. A tolerable high func-
tion had been prepared for him, on the occasion of
his first visit at the Church of the Advent, which he
endured as well as he could, and then preached his
usual sermon with no allusion to what was going on
around him. The candidates were duly presented
and confirmed, from one of whom I had this account,
and then the bishop's turn had come, of which no
one who knew him would hesitate to believe he
would fully avail himself. In the address which
followed he had full swing; the details have for the
most part escaped from my memory, but I remem-
ber that the opening was much like this: "I have

102 REMINISCENCES.

now, in compliance with the usages of our Com-
munion, laid my hands upon you, and you have
been confirmed. To what extent you comprehend
the real nature of this act of dedication, and what
instructions you have received respecting it, I do
not know. I think it possible that you have been
taught that this table is an altar, but it is not so,
inasmuch as no sacrifice has ever been offered here
or ever can be. You may have been told by those
gentlemen in the rear that they are priests in the
Church of God. In any real sense you are as much
priests as they are, for we are taught in the New
Testament that all the faithful are alike priests in
the kingdom of Christ. I made them what they
are with a breath, and I can unmake them with a
breath. They may have told you that it is your
duty to confess your sins to them. You have as
much right to insist that they should confess their
sins to you. There is but one Being to whom we
can go with our transgressions with any hope of
being absolved," and so on, when, before there was
time for anything further, he said abruptly, "Let us
pray," gave the benediction, and was off in his car-
riage without further delay.

Bishop Eastburn's characteristics as a preacher
may be readily described. His extempore addresses
were usually more interesting and impressive than
his written discourses. In the pulpit he seemed to
be restrained by certain conventional ideas as to the
style and setting of a sermon, which gave his dis-
course an air of artificialness and stately pomp.
The construction of his sermons was very uniform,
and they were always just thirty minutes long. In

RETURN TO BOSTON. IO3

the great majority of cases "man's fallen state by
nature," "justification by faith alone," and some
general remarks on worldliness and the various
temptations of human life, constituted the staple of
his discourse. His style was ample and flowing. I
remember his speaking of the broad road as "that
vast arena frequented by far the largest numerical
majority." It was his favorite habit to speak of
man as "a denizen of earth," or again as "a worm of
the dust," and of Europe as "a foreign strand."
"Our inimitable Liturgy" was a phrase with which
we became very familiar. He rarely gave offense
by the introduction of novel thoughts, or overtaxed
the mental powers by abstruse arguments. In fact
he was not accustomed to argue at all, but con-
tented himself with delivering the truth, as he
received it, clearly, forcibly, earnestly, and with
some degree of reiteration, and then saying in
effect, "There it stands, just as I have shown you.
Reject it at your peril!" An intelligent English
woman, after Dr. Vinton had preached one of his
great sermons, told me that she was much more
profited by the bishop's discourse, because she
could not help listening while Dr. Vinton was
preaching, and so she lost the benefit of the disci-
pline which she had in trying to follow the bishop.
With all these drawbacks, I do not doubt that his
preaching was very profitable to many and met all
their spiritual wants, which is, after all, the great
thing. He never kept back any part of the counsel
of God, from the desire to win popular favor; he was
as true and sincere in his preaching as he was in his
life, and that is saying a great deal. His theology

104 REMINISCENCES.

was of the strictest and straitest "Simeon and
Carus" school, a moderate dilution of Calvinism,
with a few familiar evangelical formulas always
prominent, and always enforced with all the might
at his command. For all modern phases of thought
he had an unmitigated contempt, and what is now
known as the Higher Criticism would have been to
him an absolute abomination. He never had any
doubts of his own, and could not understand how
any other human being could possibly doubt or
honestly differ from him in his opinions, and yet he
was an humble-minded man, and I do not believe
that he over-estimated his own abilities. He once
said that he had never changed his religious views
since he was seven years of age — a remark which is
suggestive. That he was honest and earnest no one
could ever question, and he was as transparent as
a clear cube of crystal, and as hard, where opinions
were concerned. He was a simple-hearted Chris-
tian, and very lovable and affable, when there were
no theological obstructions in the way.

It was somewhat noticeable, that while he did not
seek the company of his own brethren who hap-
pened to differ from him in non-essential matters, he
was on excellent terms with some with whom he
could have had no theological sympathy whatever,
and when Bishop Fitzpatrick, the Roman Catholic
Bishop of Boston, died, he pronounced a beauti-
ful eulogy upon him before the club of which they
were members. Like some of the ancient prophets
and John the Baptist, he may have worn a rough
garment, but never to deceive — there was a generous
heart beating underneath his bristling panoply. He

RETURN TO BOSTON. 10$

was a devout man and lived in habitual communion
with his Saviour. It is impossible to conceive of
his ever doing anything against his conscience. He
always stood uncovered before God.

The three original Episcopal churches of Boston
continued to hold certain bequests and funds in
common, after King's Chapel had relapsed into
Unitarianism, and for a long time the Lent lectures
continued to be preached there, although they
were established for the maintenance of orthodox
doctrine.

The Episcopal Charitable Society was another
old association, the funds of which pertained to the
three churches and could not be alienated. It fell
to my lot to deliver the sermon in King's Chapel on
the hundred and fiftieth aniversary, when the entire
service of our Church was read. I had strange
emotions as I stood in that venerable pulpit and
remembered that it was on that spot the old Colo-
nial governors insisted upon intruding the Episco-
pal service upon the Puritan Commonwealth, and
that this was the church which the Tories deserted
in the troublous times of the Revolution, leaving
their pews to be occupied by another generation,
destined to repudiate the faith of their fathers.

There is a military company in Boston, known by
the title of the Ancient and Honorable Artillery
Company, which has been in existence about as
long as Boston itself, and they have always been
accustomed once in the year to go to church and
hear a sermon. I was once called to deliver this
discourse and I took for my text, Isaiah ix. 15:
"The ancient and honorable, he is the head." Some

Io6 REMINISCENCES.

surprise was expressed that such an appropriate
text had never been lighted upon before, but the
problem was solved the next morning when a news-
paper, devoted to the extermination of everything
in the line of military preparation, in allusion to the
text, observed that the preacher had quoted only
the first part of the passage, but his discourse amply
vindicated the truth of the latter portion, the entire
text being, "The ancient and honorable, he is the
head ; and the prophet that speaketh lies, he is the
tail." I anticipated something of this sort, but
could not resist the temptation to make use of the
passage.

The great and good Dr. Sparrow visited me just
before the capstone was placed upon Bunker Hill
monument, which was at that time carried up to its
full height, but still remained open at the top. I
enticed the doctor to climb with me to the sum-
mit, and there we seated ourselves, with a wonderful
expanse of sea and land open to our view. As we
sat there something unlocked the good man's Hps —
it may have been the beauty of the prospect, or it
may have been the feeling that he was so high up
in the air and therefore so much nearer heaven;
but there he sat, pouring forth a flood of thought,
rich and rare, and if he had had his way, might have
gone on in the same strain until the going down of
the sun. He probably never spoke "from a higher
point of view," and those who were accustomed to
hear him talk on the ordinary level of the earth can
judge what his talk must have been away up there
in the clouds. Bunker Hill will always be asso-
ciated in my mind with the name of Dr. Sparrow.

RETURN TO BOSTON. 10/

He was a strong man, and has left his impress upon
many of our strongest and best ministers, who were
so favored as to enjoy the benefit of his theological
teachings. He could put as much material into a
single discourse as would supply the wants of a
dozen ordinary preachers for a month. He had all
the simplicity of a child and never seemed to know
how great a man he was.

CHAPTER X.

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT.

After four years of mossy quietude as an assis-
tant minister in Trinity Church, Boston, I began to
feel that it would be well to look for some more
vigorous employment, and accordingly I accepted a
call to Hartford. There I found myself breathing
an ecclesiastical atmosphere in some respects differ-
ing from both Boston and Philadelphia. As might
be expected in the land of steady habits, the dio-
cese of Connecticut has been conservative from the
beginning; it runs to no extremes, leaning neither
toward Geneva or Rome, unmoved by the doctrine
of the one or the blandishments of the other. The
Low Church party can hardly be said to exist in
Connecticut, and there is no large diocese in the
Church where there is to-day a less amount of ram-
pant and excessive ritualism. It has no extremes of
climate and is content with such fruits as can be
ripened without forcing. Episcopacy in that State
is in a great degree a plant of native growth and not
an exotic, as in the neighboring diocese of Massa-
chusetts. In proportion to the population, the
number of communicants is greater than in any
other diocese, and they are distributed somewhat
evenly over the State, and not concentrated in one
or two large cities.

xo8

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. IO9

Bishop Brownell, who presided over this diocese
for the long space of forty-six years with a gentle-
ness and dignity that could hardly be surpassed,
was born and bred a Presbyterian, and at the time
of his marriage held the office of Professor of Chem-
istry in Union College. His wife used to tell me
how they would start off together on Sunday morn-
ings and walk on until they reached a certain corner,
where they would separate, and he go one way to
the Presbyterian church, while she wended her
solitary walk to the Episcopal. It was not long,
however, before he followed in her footsteps, as
anyone might have predicted who knew Mrs. Brow-
nell— a most attractive and winning woman, and as
full of quaint and quiet humor as she was of good-
ness, and so continued to the very end. Aged
people would be more in demand if they were always
as considerate and cheerful as those two persons
were. In the time of a high "revival of religion"
someone informed the bishop that they were pray-
ing very hard for his conversion. "Well," he replied
in his gentle way, "the prayers of good Christians
will do me no harm." In his earlier days he did a
great deal of missionary work in the South and
West, and in those days of rough traveling must have
endured no little hardship and fatigue. But later
his life flowed on in a calm and placid way, never
lashed into a tempest, and never dashing rudely
against the rocks. His kindliness manifested itself
in the lines of his countenance and the tones of his
voice, and as he sat unmurmuringly under my
preaching for several years, he must have been a
singularly patient and long-enduring Christian.

no REMINISCENCES.

Whatever may be thought of the doctrine of the
Apostolic Succession, apostolic grace certainly sur-
vived in him. We trust that a kind Providence
will send us a few more such moderate bishops —
they may be needed before long.

The Episcopal Church in Hartford has always had
to contend with a strong array of ministers outside
of our fold; or, as I would prefer to put it, has had
the benefit of a wholesome stimulant, growing out
of their great attainments and influence. The Rev.
Dr. George Burgess, the rector of Christ Church
and afterward Bishop of Maine, was competent to
hold his own in any community. In the range of
his acquirements, the unfailing accuracy of his
memory, the fairness and discrimination of his judg-
ment, the honesty and transparency of his soul and
inflexible devotion to his high calling, he stood with-
out a superior in the ranks of our ministry. In the
region of thought he had his limitations, but within
those boundaries he seemed to be all-seeing and all-
knowing — the defect of his mind consisting in the
gathering in of too much material, more than could
be used — more than could profitably be used. I
once expressed my wonder at the enormous amount
of matter crowded into one of his books, and he said
that it was but a small proportion of the material he
had collected.

I have never thought that he did himself full jus-
tice in the pulpit. In the last sermon that I heard him
preach he undertook to say something about every
person mentioned in the New Testament who had
any personal communication with Christ, and this did
not leave time for saying much that was worth saying.

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. Ill

He was always at work — visiting his parishioners
three or four times a year, keeping on hand forty or
fifty sermons ahead of the demand, reading every-
thing worth reading that came in his way, exploring
all sorts of out-of-the-way subjects, publishing a
wonderful book about the old New England Puri-
tan life which took everybody by surprise, penetra-
ting the strange ins and outs of Swedenborgianism,
composing exquisite poems, having such a memory
that he could repeat the names of all the archbishops
that ever lived in England, and examine candidates
in all the minutiae of church history without a book,
taking no out-door exercise, and never indulging in
any form of recreation, always carrying a book with
him when he traveled, and which absorbed him in
the midst of the grandest scenery, and so dying early,
dying prematurely, before he had reached his fifty-
seventh year. He died abroad and I went down to
Gardiner, Me., to preach at his funeral. No other
bishop was there, and no crowd of clergy — for want
of time to notify them, and not for want of respect
for his memory, for everybody that knew him loved
him and everybody revered him. At last he rests
from his labors, unless there is work to be done in
Paradise, in which case he may be as busy as ever.

The Rev. Dr. Edward A. Washburn was one of
my contemporaries in Hartford. He also was a very
remarkable man. A graduate of Harvard, and a
student of Andover and New Haven, he was from
the beginning a careful reader and a thorough
scholar. He plunged early into the depths of phil-
osophical study, and lived for the most part among
books, and seemed to have none of the ordinary

112 REMINISCENCES.

foibles of youth ; while, at the same time, he was
distinguished as an athlete, and, with his temperate
habits and abundant bodily exercise, it might have
been expected that a long and vigorous career would
await him. His temperament was sunny and cheer-
ful, and he enjoyed existence to the full. After a
short ministry among the Congregationalists he was
induced to enter the Episcopal Church, which he
regarded as at once evangelical and catholic — posi-
tive in asserting fundamental truths of the gospel
and yet allowing much latitude in non-essentials —
anchored securely to the old creeds and the Bible,
but with sufficient play of the rope to allow for the
rising of the tide and the occasional surging of the
elements.

He was first settled in St. Paul's Chuch, Newbury-
port, a parish that had long been in existence and
accustomed to move quietly in the grooves worn by
the fathers. An event connected with his ordination
to the priesthood occasioned much remark at the
time. The bishop and clergy had assembled, the
church was opened, and the bell was tolling, when,
to the amazement of all, it was announced that the
ordination of Mr. Washburn would be deferred.
The bishop expressed his readiness to ordain an-
other young candidate who was present ; he, how-
ever, declined to receive orders except in the
company of his friend ; while the vestry refused to
allow the use of the church for a public service if
their own minister was to be excluded. The expla-
nation of the extraordinary proceeding was this: on
the previous Sunday morning the news came of
General Jackson's death, and Mr, Washburn, who

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. II3

was not at the time very familiar with the customs
of the Church, asked one of his parishioners if there
was any Collect in the Prayer Book that might be
appropiately used in recognition of the ex-presi-
dent's death. He referred the young minister to
what is known as the commendatory prayer in the
office for the Visitation of the Sick, which he
accordingly introduced at the appropriate time,
without the slightest suspicion that he was doing
anything out of the way, least of all that he was
laying himself open to the charge of heresy. The
repetition of the offense in these days might not
occasion the same uncomfortable comment. As
soon as the matter was understood and Mr. Wash-
burn was disposed to present himself again to the
bishop, priest's orders were given him, and I never
heard of his being charged with a tendency to the
Church of Rome afterward.

We have never had a man in our ranks who, in
dealing with the great problems of thought which
pertain to our time, struck nearer the heart of
things than he. His learning was so profound that
he could at a glance detect any attempt to revive
exploded errors and impose them upon the world
in the garb of a new uniform; and whenever he
encountered any formidable obstruction vv^hich
seemed to block the progress of Christian truth,
the lightning did not merely play about the surface,
but it shivered the rock to atoms. He brought to
bear upon the most perplexing questions of the day
the full power of a well-informed mind, a keen phil-
osophic insight, and a fair and generous judgment.
He said all that the argument required, and left

114 REMINISCENCES.

unsaid all that was superfluous. He could write
with rapidity as well as accuracy under very unpro-
pitious circumstances, and his familiar talk was in
many cases as profound and clear-cut as his most
elaborate writings. He had his resources at com-
mand, and one who ventured rashly to cross
weapons with him was likely to suffer in the end.
Not that he needed the stimulus of an opponent
to rouse him ; once started upon a line of thought
that interested him, he could talk on eloquently
and interminably, without any rejoinder.

A more fearless preacher never stood in an
American pulpit. It was not that kind of faithful
preaching which consists in a vehement reiteration
of dogmas already known to be acceptable to the
congregation ; if he felt that he was right, it did not
matter whether the hearer agreed with him or not.
It was his business to press home the truth, and if
the people would not, or could not receive it, so
much the worse for them. He was a discriminat-
ing preacher, and did not content himself with the
repetition of time-honored formulas, without regard
to the fact that they conveyed no distinct meaning
to the mind of the hearer. He was as skillful in
handling the plainest and most practical subjects as
he was in the discussion of the most abstract topics,
and when he expounded the Ten Commandments,
everybody knew what he meant. He was not
accustomed, using the well-known illustration of Dr.
Hawks, his distinguished predecessor in Calvary
Church, "to fire broadsides into Christianity," but
took careful aim at the mark, as he once did with
his pistol in the desert, in order to let the Arabs

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. II5

know what they might expect from him in any
special emergency. He was not a sensational
preacher, but I remember to have heard him, after
delivering a long and very elaborate discourse, pro-
duce a profound and solemn impression by repeat-
ing at the close, in the most deliberate manner, the
whole of the Apostles' Creed.

His translations of some of the best old Latin
hymns, and his own original poetical compositions,
were of the highest order, and show what he might
have done if he had devoted himself to literary pur-
suits. I recall one striking line in his poems, and
wish that I had room for more :

" For the seeker of the Perfect,
To be satisfied is pain."

He wrote some exquisite humorous verses, for
although he was regarded by some as rather a stern
and imperious person, he was by no means deficient
in that element of humor which is so essential to a
complete and well-rounded intellect. If John Cal-
vin had been endowed with a little of this quality,
it would have been a great relief to him and to the
world after him.

My eye has fallen upon a tribute to his memory
so much greater than anything it is in my power to
say, that I cannot refrain from copying it in full:

" Go ! great Crusader, now thy lance is lowered,

Leave us to bear the burden and thy loss ;
Fold now thine arms upon thy trusty 5Word,

Its gleaming hilt, a cross.
Thine the Crusader's temperament, to fight

The Paynim's error, where his tents were found.

Il6 REMINISCENCES.

Did there come need for help of Christian knight,

Thy white cloak swept the ground.
Strong were the notes thy clarion rung out,

Fierce was the onslaught from thy vigorous arm ;
And idle ease and comfortable doubt

Took sensible alarm.
Yet in that eloquence a sad refrain,

A passionate wit, a delicate tender thought —
These were the gems that sparkled in the chain

Thy splendid genius wrought.
Like the Crusader, turning toward the East

Those learned eyes (which saw what others sought),
A pilgrim often at the sacred feast

Where knelt Sir Launcelot.
They should have placed thee in that ancient church

At Cyprus, where the Christian knights are lain ;
Or in that sunny square where sparrows perch

On bust of Charlemagne.
Filled with their names on later sands of Time

Mark thee as worthy to be grouped with them ;
No nobler hero known to book or rhyme

Marched to Jerusalem.
For thou wert of that company, the men

Born to be leaders, knowing not doubt or fear,
Who, when the Angel called, or now or then,

Could answer, " Here ! "
Great dreams, great sorrows were thy bread and wine ;

God o'er hot deserts led thy suffering feet ;
The sepulcher is won, the victory thine,

Go ! thy old comrades greet ! "

I wish now to say a few words in memory of an-
other man, not of our communion, with whom I had
some degree of intimacy during my residence in Hart-
ford. The name of Horace Bushnell will be familiar
to the world long after most of us are forgotten. No
one could be brought into contact with him without
feeling that he was in the presence of a man born
to lead and not to follow the thought of his time.

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. II 7

While he was writing his great work on The Super-
natural, I used to visit him in his study on Monday
mornings, for the purpose of hearing him read the
chapters he had written during the previous week,
and I wish that I had noted down the comments he
made from time to time upon his work. I also wish
that I could have sketched his picture as he sat
there in his chair, rather uneasily, as was his wont,
with his flashing dark eye and luminous face, that
responded so vividly to the thoughts which were
working in his brain. By some he was regarded as
a subverter of old ideas and even as a reckless inno-
vator and heretic, but he was really very tender of
all received dogma, and never broke away from the
standards except under the force of moral compul-
sion. I once told him that I thought of preaching
on a topic, which, forty years ago, we had not
learned to handle as intelligently as we do now, and
I shall never forget how he brought down his hand
and said, "I would not preach a sermon on that
subject for ten thousand dollars!" — not that he was
afraid to do it, but he thought the time had not
come for its thorough ventilation, and if he once
threw open the doors of his mind, it must be to let
the wind circulate freely. He was a man of marvel-
ous versatility. Those who knew him only by his
theological writings have no conception of the range
of his mind and the various works of which he was
capable. The house in which I once lived was
warmed by a furnace of his invention, and he could
lay out a park or drain a city much better than an
ordinary expert. He was as much at home in talk-
ing with the rough guides in the Adirondacks as he

Il8 REMINISCENCES.

was in discussing metaphysics with learned the-
ologians in council. If he had gone into civil life
he would have taught our public men some lessons
in political economy which they greatly need to
know. If he had been a medical man he would have
struck at the roots of disease and discovered
remedies as yet unknown.

Dr. Bushnell had a great deal of individuality.
The man impressed you, and it would have required
an effort to insult him or trifle with him. I should
never have thought of addressing him as Horace,
and while he could be very playful when he felt
like it, to some persons he seemed rather unap-
proachable. There was nothing in his manner that
seemed to claim veneration, as is sometimes the case
with "distinguished divines" — no majestic sweep of
the hand, no oratorical proclamation of "wise saws
and modern instances," no assumption of superiority
in any form ; but you felt yourself to be in the
presence of a man, a real man, and a man of bulk —
not large in stature, but in spirit.

He was a devout believer — not one who merely
speculated about religion, but he received it into his
heart and lived accordingly. He had all the spiritual
fervor, as well as the far-sightedness of a prophet ;
everything pretaining to God and Christ and immor-
tality glowed under his touch. It was a live coal
that he laid upon the altar. However he might
speculate he never allowed anything to come as a
veil between him and his Saviour; he saw eye to
eye and knew whom he believed.

It shows how "the whirligig of time brings about
its revenges," and is also a striking illustration of

FOUR YEARS IN CONNECTICUT. 119

the Other old saying, "the heterodoxy of to-day is
the orthodoxy of to-morrow," that the Hartford
Theological Seminary, which was estabhshed for
the purpose of combating the tendency of thought
in Dr. Bushnell's direction, should have recently
adopted his treatise on Christian Nurture — originally
rejected by the Congregational Board of Publica-
tion— as one of the text-books in that institution.

CHAPTER XL

REMOVAL TO RHODE ISLAND.

Christ Church, Hartford, seems to have been
one of the cradles in which bishops were rocked in
their earlier days. Bishop Philander Chase started
from this church in his pioneer pilgrimage to the
West; Bishop Wainwright was nurtured there for a
milder work; Bishop George Burgess and Bishop
Nichols were both rectors of this parish. Bishops
Brownell, George W. Doane, Horatio Potter, and
John Williams were all at some period attendants
at Christ Church and frequently ofificiated there,
and so in the natural order of things my turn came
in 1854.

I had just moved into a new house and was stand-
ing on the top of a flight of steps, assorting my
books on the upper shelf, when a telegram just
received by Bishop Brownell was handed me,
announcing my election as Bishop of Rhode Island.
I was somewhat startled, as I had never heard that
I was thought of for the place, and indeed was not
aware that the Convention of Rhode Island was in
session. But so it was, and after a parochial ministry
of eighteen years I found myself suddenly called to
a new sphere, and the discharge of new offices, in
which I have now been engaged forty years longer.
I have not much to tell in the way of incident in this

REMOVAL TO RHODE ISLAND. 121

new relation. I have dwelt in a quiet habitation,
and have had no such romantic experiences as our
western brethren are familiar with ; I have been
called to take no long journeys through waste lands
and unexplored forests, and sleep night after night
in the snow, and drive alone over interminable
prairies in midwinter with nothing to indicate the
way but the slight indentation in the snow made by
the Indian trail, and levy upon the gambling saloon
for the purposes of worship, and take up a collection
in poker chips, while the rifles, by special request,
are deposited in the outer entry, or run a cathedral
on wheels or in a steamer — of all this I know noth-
ing. The western brethren have smiled when I
spoke of the interior of my diocese, intimating that
they did not suppose it had any interior, which is to
some extent true, as so large a portion of the little
State is underwater. I do not get much sympathy
even when I tell them that I have to go off a long
way on the ocean to visit some of the churches, and
that on land, on account of the water obstructions,
I often find that the longest way round is the only
way there.

There are some advantages in small dioceses — I
mean small territorially. But little time is con-
sumed in traveling, it is easy to become familiar
with the whole region and know what are its neces-
sities and just when it is desirable to start a mis-
sion, and as a small farm may be more thoroughly
cultivated than a large territory of a thousand
acres, so a small diocese may be spaded over, in-
stead of being rudely plowed, and made to yield a
larger proportionate harvest. The results of this

122 REMINISCENCES.

may be seen in Rhode Island. There is scarcely a
settlement of any considerable size in which our
Church is not established, and there are but one
or two other dioceses where the proportion of
communicants to the population is as great as
it is there, and if the Roman Catholics were not
counted in, this proportion would be doubled. As
an illustration of the hold which they have obtained
in this vicinity, I may mention that the city of
Woonsocket, with a population of about twenty-
three thousand inhabitants, contains seventeen
thousand Roman Catholics, and in an adjoining
village, where for years we had undivided posses-
sion, there being no other place of worship there, a
French Roman Catholic Church has been built,
large enough to swallow up two or three such
churches as ours. There is one further advantage
in a small, compact diocese. The clergy are able
to meet each other freely, for the discussion of con-
troverted questions and the clearing up of mistakes
and prejudices, and also for the occasional discharge
of ecclesiastical porcupine quills, which it may be a
relief to the porcupine to be rid of, while they do
no special damage to others. The result of this
frequent interchange of thoughts and crossing of
weapons is the establishment of as much harmony
as can be expected in the present fallen condition
of humanity, and the acids and alkalies mingle
together without any excessive effervescence.

During my residence in Rhode Island there have
been more than two hundred and forty clergymen
in the Diocese, and not one has ever left us to join
any other Protestant denomination. Three have

REMOVAL TO RHODE ISLAND. 1 23

taken refuge in the Church of Rome, one of whom
simply went back to his first love, having been edu-
cated by the Jesuits; another looked over the fence
longingly into the Roman pasture before he was
ordained and also went where he belonged, and the
third I had deposed before he thought of seceding.
In the forty years' administration of a diocese it
would be strange if there had not been some cranky
deacons and presbyters to deal with, and possibly
here and there a troublesome layman. Entangle-
ments will sometimes exist, which require very deli-
cate handling in order to untwist the snarl without
breaking too many threads. But, upon the whole,
I have had very little to complain of, and it is my
general impression that it is unwise for a bishop to
interfere with what is going on in the diocese any
further than is necessary in order to keep the peace
and protect the Church from the intrusion of actual
heresy and mischievous practices.

CHAPTER XII.

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION.

The House of Bishops at the time of my admis-
sion was composed of older men than the average as
it now exists. Six of the number fulfilled their
fourscore years, the eldest being nearly ninety years
old when he died, and the youngest fifty-three.
Seventy-one bishops have died since the date of my
consecration, thirty-two of whom were my juniors
in office, and thirty-eight have been born into the
world since I was admitted to the priesthood. I
have no distinct recollection of the first meeting of
the House of Bishops that I attended, but the Con-
vention of 1859, h^^^ i" Richmond, is strongly im-
pressed upon my memory. The train from Wash-
ington reached that city at about three o'clock in
the morning, and not caring at that unreasonable
hour to disturb the good people to whose hos-
pitality we had been consigned, I strolled about the
city until daylight with the Rev. Dr. Littlejohn for
a companion — now the distinguished Bishop of Long
Island and at that time a deputy from Connecticut,
whose genial talk made it all very pleasant, although
it was an hour when people do not usually appear
to the best advantage.

When the Convention opened, thirty-three
bishops responded to the roll-call, all of whom,

124

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 1 2$

with the exception of our presiding bishop and my-
self, now sleep with their fathers. Bishop Meade
of Virginia took the chair as the senior, and the
picture of the bishops, as they sat there in council,
is still very distinct and vivid in my recollection.
Somehow it seems as if they were not formed as
much after the same pattern as they are to-day; but
this may be because there were so few of them. I
will try to give a sort of silhouette likeness of some
of the more prominent of these men.

Our presiding officer. Bishop Meade, was in some
respects a man of the Roman type — I hardly need
to say, not in his ecclesiastical sympathies; but he
had the stern, inflexible, regal type which we asso-
ciate with Julius Caesar. His demeanor was serious
and earnest ; he was not a man of compromises — •
always rigid and always just, never carried away by
his sympathies, and yet always kind and generous
of heart. I never heard of his venturing upon the
humorous but once, and that was when he was told
that an edition of Webster's Dictionary had just
appeared, which contained twenty-two thousand
new words; upon hearing which he replied, "I hope

it will not fall into the hands of my Brother ,"

who was somewhat distinguished for his "gift of
continuance," and of whom the venerable bishop
who sat next to me in the House used to whisper,
as he saw his fluent brother rise to speak, "Oh,
dear! the plug is out again!" I must, however,
acknowledge that I have seen Bishop Meade unbend
himself gracefully at the house of Dr. J. K. Mitchell,
in Philadelphia, whose guests we were at a meeting
of the General Convention, and where he was very

126 REMINISCENCES.

intimate. The children induced him one evening to
be blindfolded and try to walk in a straight line
across the room and blow out a candle on the
opposite side ; it was really refreshing to look upon
the scene, and although he was more than once
unsuccessful, his failure did not in the slightest
degree diminish our reverence for the man.

Among other trifling peculiarities, he was very
antique in his notions, and could not be induced to
use a modern four-pronged silver fork at his meals,
and an old-fashioned two-pronged steel fork had to
be provided for him. He was a perfect gentleman
in his tone and breeding, with something of the
feudal flavor about him, and yet he would go about
with his robes under his arm, done up in a bandanna
silk handkerchief, and write his official letters on a
scrap of brownish paper, sealing them with his
thumb when a seal was required.

Firm as a rock where principle was concerned, he
could neither be dragged nor enticed from his
position. I doubt whether he would have denied
his Master, as Peter did, and if he had been impelled
to walk upon the water to meet his Lord his faith
would not have been likely to give way.

After his strength began to fail and he had been
prohibited from preaching any more, it was hard for
him to keep silence when he found himself in the
chancel. It once happened that he was present on
the occasion of my preaching a missionary sermon
in Alexandria before the students of the seminary,
and at the close he said that he would "make a few
additional remarks" — which I have no doubt he felt
to be much needed — and he continued to talk on in

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 12/

his solemn, impressive way, until we had had two
tolerably long sermons instead of one. The old fire
was burning, and it kept on burning to the end,
without his being consumed. He now rests in peace,
although I do not believe that his voice is silenced.
He was one of the grandest men we have ever had
in our Communion.

Next appears the patriarchal face of Bishop Hop-
kins, with his majestic locks and copious white
beard, looking as if he might have stood before the
altar of Abraham and with him there offered sacri-
fice. Such a figure as his could never have been in
keeping with any other than the clerical profession,
and yet he began life as a lawyer, and was more
versatile than any other of his tribe, and could do a
great many things which no other bishop could do.
He could design a church, superintend the building,
construct the ornamental designs with his own hands,
execute the more elaborate parts of the painting,
and then take charge of the organ, compose, direct,
and lead the music. He could preach on any con-
ceivable subject without the slightest preparation,
and would often ask the rector of the church, as he
was putting on his robes, what he would like to have
him preach about. He was a fluent debater, and
never lost his self-possession or seemed to know
when he had been beaten. He wrote voluminously
and on a great variety of subjects. His "End of
Controversy Controverted" was a most servicable
book to put into the hands of one inclining to Rome,
and his treatise on "The Novelties which Disturb our
Peace" was vigorous and strong — more so than the
pamphlet which he afterward published on the other

128 REMINISCENCES.

side. His defense of American slavery did not
appear at a time when it was likely to be very popular
at the North, and of his History of the Church i?t
rhyme, beginning with Adam and ending with Bishop
White, it is not worth while to speak. Many other
works came from his pen, showing great research and
having considerable value. With all his versatility
and variations of opinion, he was thoroughly sound
and honest at heart, and firmly believed everything
that he said, however it might conflict with what he
had said before; for it was impossible for him to be
disloyal to that which, at the time, he received as the
truth. His opinion might change, but his faith
never faltered, and we doubt not that he now shares
with the saints in Paradise the blessings and felicities
of the redeemed.

Bishop Mcllvaine was a conspicuous figure
wherever he appeared. His resemblance to the
pictures of Washington was very striking and he
once told me that he had been often spoken to on
the subject, and that strangers had stopped him on
the street to inquire if he had any of the Washing-
ton blood in his veins. His voice was peculiar, and
had that deep, orotund, and somewhat artificial
quality that makes ordinary words impressive and
solemn, while it may not be so well adapted to
trivial conversation. In fact there was nothing
trivial about the man ; his whole demeanor wore an
ofificial aspect, and he rarely, if ever, appeared to
be off duty. On one occasion, when the bishops
arrayed themselves in a sort of pyramidal group for
the purpose of being photographed, and he happened
to place himself at the summit of the pyramid, he

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 1 29

took it kindly as I remarked that he had done this
with the consciousness that he was the ornamental
member of the House, as he really was. His aspect
was that of a man who could not help being con-
scious of his own superiority, and there was a
dignified reserve in his demeanor which would repel
anything like undue familiarity. My brother, the
Rev. Dr. Samuel A. Clark, once tried him a little,
by asking in the presence of his brethen, just after
his return from England, if he had had a pleasant
voyage, and if this was his first trip abroad. The
bishop's familiarity with English life made the
inquiry somewhat impertinent.

After the publication of his famous defense of
Episcopacy, Dr. Tyng said to me that he would
never again vote for a low churchman to fill a
bishopric, although it may be remembered that the
good doctor himself preached a very conciliatory
sermon from the text, "Sirs, ye are brethren," just
before the Pennsylvania election.

Perhaps the most useful part of Bishop Mcllvaine's
life was the early period when he served as chaplain
at West Point, where, by his powerful appeals and
strong personal influence, he brought so many young
men into the fold of Christ. For some reason the
diocese of Ohio did not make very great advance
under his episcopate, and a man of weaker mold
and more devoted to the routine duties of the office
might have established the Church in Ohio more
firmly than he did.

His published writings on the "Evidences of
Christianity," "The Oxford Divinity," "The Holy
Catholic Church," "The Sinner's Justification," and

130 REMINISCENCES.

a variety of other topics, were widely circulated at
the time of their appearance and attracted much
attention, as well as occasioning no slight amount of
controversy. They are much of the same type,
somewhat diffuse in style, and for the most part able
expositions of familiar truths, rather than suggestive
of new thoughts. He was very positive in all his
opinions and not very tolerant of those who differed
from him. When they undertook to erect stone
altars in his diocese, he insisted upon their being
"hewed down with hammers," and "the novelties
which disturbed our peace," had little favor in Ohio.
No crosses or flowers were allowed to encumber the
Holy Table, and on one occasion, in the House of
Bishops, he expressed his dissatisfaction at hearing
the Te Deum chanted, in place of being read. How
he would have endured all the innovations which
have, since his time, penetrated almost every section
of the Church — the boy-choirs, the choral services,
the colored stoles, the profuse floral decorations, to
say nothing of all the more elaborate display of our
more advanced parishes, it is not easy to determine.
Perhaps, if he had lived as long as some of the rest
of us, he might have become reconciled to many
innovations which would once have filled him with
horror.

Bishop Whittingham was always in his place, tak-
ing note of everything done or said, ready to spring
to his feet, whatever might be the subject of debate,
and appearing to know all about it, whatever it
might be. I once undertook to keep tally of the
number of speeches made by him in a single fore-
noon, but had to give it up. He was thoroughly

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. I31

posted in everything pertaining to the Church in
his own generation, or in any past period of its his-
tory, desperately in earnest, seeming to rely upon
Church legislation for the reform of all the evils in
society, — as if the morals of the world could be regu-
lated by canons, — and always disposed to make
thorough work in dealing with all the infirmities to
which humanity is heir. Bishop Whittingham was
not a man of one idea; he had a multitude of ideas,
but they all revolved around one common center,
and were viewed from one standing-point — the
ecclesiastical. If he had been brought up from the
beginning in a little closer contact with the more
frail and brittle men and women of the world and
looked over the fence to see what was going on
outside of the Church, if he had not clung so closely
to his books and taken a little wholesome recreation,
it would have been better for him and more com-
fortable for others. He told me that at one period
of his life he worked steadily seventeen hours every
day, and this did not leave much time for any-
thing else. The marvel is how he managed to live
at all.

For many years I was associated with him as a
member of the Standing Committee on Constitu-
tional Amendments, and I can testify that in private
conference he was considerate, brotherly, reasonable,
and patient, while he was not always so on the floor
of the House. To say that he was a very learned
man would be an exceedingly moderate way of put-
ting the matter, and to say that he was endowed
with an enthusiastic temperament would be super-
fluous. He liked to have his own way when he felt

132 REMINISCENCES.

certain that he was right, and that was a conviction
which did not often fail him.

When we first began to break in upon the old
routine, a clergyman in Baltimore — now one of the
most honored and eloquent of our bishops — adver-
tised that noonday services would be held in his
church on certain days in Lent for the benefit of
business men, and that those services would not
exceed thirty or forty minutes. When the bishop
read this startling announcement in the morning
papers, he at once sent for the clergyman to know
what it all meant. He was informed that it was
intended to read the Litany or some abbreviated
form of the Morning Service — to be followed with
an address ten or twelve minutes long. "I forbid
the thing entirely I" said the bishop; "I will allow
nothing but the reading of the entire Morning
Prayer as it stands in the book." "Well, then," was
the reply, "I must abandon the whole thing. On
these terms it would be impossible to accomplish
the purpose designed by this short service, and I
will give it up altogether, assigning the reason for
so doing." This did not suit the bishop, and at
last he compromised matters, on the condition that
the clergyman should read the entire Morning
Prayer in private, before holding his attenuated
public service. It is to be feared the devotional
element was not very prominent in the good pastor's
heart when the hour came for him to address him-
self to his solitary matins.

Of Bishops Eastburn, Alonzo Potter, and George
Burgess I have already written, and there are others
of whom I would like to say something, if the space

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 1 33

allowed. I can see, with my mind's eye, the picture
of the stout and sturdy Bishop Otey, most honest
and transparent of men, with a muscular intellect
toned down by a most tender and generous heart;
Bishop Kemper, equally at home in the refined
circles of St. Peter's and St. James', Philadelphia,
where he labored faithfully for twenty years, and in
the wild Indian settlements of the far West, where
he laid the foundation of six or seven dioceses,
dying at last as the Bishop of Wisconsin, after
traveling about as missionary bishop twenty-four
years longer; Bishop Polk, a true and earnest
believer of the ancient type, of whom no one, what-
ever may be thought of the wisdom of his course,
can hesitate to say that he had the courage of his
own convictions, and died as a martyr to what he
believed to be true and right ; Bishop De Lancey, of
whom I think I have already spoken, an old-fashioned
churchman of the Bishop Hobart school, courteous
and attractive in his demeanor, an accomplished
scholar, a winning and interesting preacher, and a
true man; Bishop Elliott, father of another bishop,
whose praise is in all the churches, a genuine
Southern gentleman, also of the ancient type, his
stately form and impressive face giving a peculiar
charm to the words he uttered and the truths he
enforced ; Bishop Johns, the saintly and gentle Cal-
vinist, who won many hearts to Christ by the per-
suasiveness of his appeals, while he rarely repelled
any seeker after truth by the rigidity of his doctrine ;
Bishop Davis, whose presence was a benediction,
making the world — from the sight of which he was
cut off by the visitation of God — always brighter

134 REMINISCENCES.

and better by his beautiful example and holy influ-
ence; Bishop Atkinson, a man always to be trusted,
of calm and solid judgment, quiet and earnest con-
victions, endowed with a legal clearness of concep-
tion and a straightforward utterance which was
almost sure to carry conviction to the minds of
those whom he addressed ; Bishop Kip, the city-bred
rector, nursed in luxury, who gave up all that the
world had to offer him and became the pioneer
bishop in California, laboring patiently there for
fort}'- years amid many trials and discouragements;
Bishop Henry W. Lee, whom I knew in his youth,
and followed all along until the sun reached his
meridian, and never hearing a breath to his dis-
credit or knowing him to slight a duty. I received
by mail a few touching lines dictated by him just
before his death, to which I replied at once, but
before my letter reached him he had departed. If
there ever was a genuine disciple of Christ, he was
one. Bishop Alfred Lee was just as good and
holy a man as he, and was also endowed with
singular intellectual gifts, and his early legal training
was of great service in the disentangling of difficult
theological problems, and however he might be
criticized, it was not an easy task to refute his argu-
ments. There remain only two others of whom I
have room to write — the venerable Bishop Smith,
whose episcopate exceeded in length that of any
other American bishop, and who, if he had lived
nine days longer, would have reached his ninetieth
year, and Bishop Horatio Potter, who also attained
a good old age, after a useful and blameless life.
The mention of these two names reminds me of a

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 1 35

noticeable incident that occurred on the occasion of
a special meeting of the bishops in New York, when
all business was delayed for several days for want of
a quorum. In this emergency it was suggested that
if by any process the presence of these aged men
could be secured, the House might be organized and
then proceed to the work for which we had
assembled. Accordingly an hour was fixed for the
bishops in attendance to assemble at the residence of
Bishop Potter, who was unable to leave his chamber,
and good Bishop Smith was brought down from his
house, in the upper part of the city, and deposited
in the lower entry of Bishop Potter's residence.
The bishops then arranged themselves in the stair-
way so as to form a connecting apostolic link be-
tween the two venerable prelates, and the roll was
called. A majority of the House of Bishops answer-
ing to their names, it was declared to be duly
organized, and the members, who were capable of so
doing, adjourned to the appointed place of meeting,
while the senior bishop was carefully taken back to
his house, and the Bishop of New York left to enjoy
the quiet and privacy of his chamber undisturbed.
As it turned out, the meeting resulted in nothing
of any special account, and no one was inclined to
question the legality or propriety of its proceedings.

There were other bishops of whom kind words
might be said, but my personal knowledge of them
was slight, and in these reminiscences it is my inten-
tion to confine myself for the most part to such
matters as fell under my own observation.

I was one of a committee of three, appointed in
the Convention of 1859, ^^ suggest d^ practical sub-

136 REMINISCENCES.

ject for the Pastoral Letter, the House having failed
to agree upon either of the letters which had been
presented. We labored over the matter diligently,
but could not decide upon any one topic which it
would be expedient to bring before all our churches,
certain evils being rampant in some regions that
were altogether unknown in other quarters. Lot-
teries, card-playing, dancing, horse-racing, theatrical
performances and some other things were suggested ;
but just how to discriminate in dealing with these
evils — if they were evils at all — did not appear, and
to proclaim a crusade against certain customs which
exist in our large cities, but are never heard of in
our little country parishes, did not seem expedient.
The result was that the Church was blessed with no
pastoral that year. It is possible that a gentle sug-
gestion of mine as to the matter of slavery may have
tended to produce this result.

When we separated at the close of this pleasant
convention at Richmond, we little dreamed that a
crisis was impending during which our Church would
be temporarily sundered, and at our next gathering
there would be so many vacant seats in the House
of Bishops. I have no disposition to dwell upon that
trying season at present, although I may subse-
quently have something to say about it ; but the irre-
sistible tendency to union in our ranks was shown
in the fact that, when the crisis had passed, without
any formal action on the part of the General Con-
vention, and even without any formal negotiations,
those who had left us came back quietly and took
their seats as if nothing had happened. There was
not even a scar to show where the cleavage in the

THE RICHMOND GENERAL CONVENTION. 1 3/

Church had occurred. The only allusion to the War
that I have ever heard in the House of Bishops was
made by good Bishop Lay, at that time Bishop of
Arkansas, who pleasantly suggested on one occasion
that there was a knot of ''old Confederates off there
in the corner that ought to be broken up" — some
four or five of the Southern bishops happening to
be conferring together.

I find it hard to realize that a whole generation
has passed away since that gathering in Richmond.
I thought at that time that the larger part of the
bishops were aged men, who had about filled up
their term of years, while in fact there were only
three of the number who were at that period as old
as I am to-day. It is wisely ordered that none of
us should live very long. A new generation is
needed to take up the work where the old genera-
tion left itc But for the change of actors on the
stage the world would make little progress, and it
ought to grow wiser as it advances. What we call
the ancient times were indeed the immature youth-
ful times ; as Lord Bacon puts it : ''Antiqiiitas seculi^
juventus mundi. These times are the ancient times,
when the world is ancient, and not those which we
account ancient ordine retrogrando, by a computa-
tion backward from ourselves."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE LATE WAR.

These reminiscences would be incomplete if I
did not say something of what I saw and heard dur<
ing the War, that followed so soon after the pleasant
Convention at Richmond. My personal experi-
ences of that period are all of which I intend to
speak, and they are connected mainly with the
Sanitary Commission, of which I was a member,
and which met at intervals in Washington during
the entire period of the War. It consisted of ten
or twelve members, among whom were three dis-
tinguished physicians, Drs. Van Buren, Agnew and
Newberry, Professor Wolcott Gibbs of Harvard, Mr.
Horace Binney, Jr., the well-known Dr. Samuel G.
Howe, Professor Bache, Professor Stille, Mr. George
T. Strong, with the Rev. Dr. Bellows of New York
as president, and Mr. Frederick Law Olmstead as
secretary.

It was the most gigantic charity the world ever
knew, the cash receipts being a little less than five
millions of dollars, the estimated value of the sup-
plies fifteen millions, and the expenditures of local
branches more than two millions — in all about
twenty-two millions. A fair was held in its aid in
New York and another in Philadelphia, each of
which netted about a million of dollars. Spontane-
ous contributions of all descriptions poured in from

138

THE LATE WAR. 139

every quarter, and, as might be expected, some of
the articles forwarded were not of much practical
use — gigantic knit stockings that might have fitted
Goliath very well, if he wore stockings, domestic
preserves of various sorts and different degrees of
merit, lint beyond measure, haversacks in profusion,
which in our climate proved to be of little service,
incomprehensible garments, which it would be hard
to assign to either sex, an occasional almanac and
city directory of ancient date, a few volumes of
well-thumbed sermons, and a multitude of little
contrivances and comforts, with a tinge of pathos
about them, and all indicating the kindness and
good will of the contributors.

In the distribution of its stores and in the services
rendered to the sick and wounded, the Commission
made no distinction between friend and foe — a press-
ing need was all the appeal required, no matter
where it existed. A very beautiful and impressive
letter was once read to the Commission, written
by General Lee of the Southern army, acknowledg-
ing the various kind offices which had been rendered
to the men under his command in the hour of pain
and sorrow.

There is not much to tell of the working of the
Commission which is not already familiar to the
public. The meetings in Washington were always
very pleasant, and occasionally something would
occur to give a little variety to the occasion. A
request was made by the Massachusetts branch, that
a delegate sent by them might be allowed to sit with
the Commission and report its proceedings. It was
not thought expedient to deny the request, when,

140 REMINISCENCES.

to the surprise of all, an accomplished and high-bred
lady from Boston appeared with her credentials and
took her seat with the Commission. Of course there
was no help for it, and still further, the delegate from
Massachusetts usually accompanied us in our visits
to the neighboring camps, undeterred by any of the
disagreeable things that might be encountered. No
woman could possibly conduct herself with greater
propriety and consideration, but occasionally matters
would come forward for discussion which it would
be unpleasant to handle in the presence of a lady,
and still worse, the members of the Commission
who had been accustomed to while away the weary
hours by the solace of a cigar suddenly found them-
selves cut off from this privilege. In order to meet
the double emergency, it was resolved with all due
solemnity, in the presence and hearing of our female
friend, that whenever the Commission went into
executive session — whatever that might mean — it
should be understood that the doors were to be
closed against visitors. The operation of this rule,
which was adopted not unfrequently, relieved the
members of their embarrassment, but I am bound
to say in all truthfulness that the "executive session"
sometimes continued long after the delicate matters
under discussion had been disposed of. It hardly
needs to be added that the majority of the Com-
mission were more or less addicted to tobacco.

During my stay in Washington I had occasional
opportunities of seeing President Lincoln in the
White House and elsewhere, and a few of my
reminiscences of the man may be of some interest.
In the spring of 1861 I called by appointment at

THE LATE WAR. I4I

his private office soon after breakfast, and found him
at his writing-desk with a loose dressing-gown about
him, and after one or two general remarks he said :
"I can hardly tell you how relieved I am this morn-
ing. I have just finished my message to Congress,
and now that is off my mind." I replied that I was
sorry he had called this extra session of Congress,
for nobody could tell what mischief they might do,
and I wished he would take the whole responsibility
into his own hands, for I was sure the nation would
stand by him if he did. "I have called this Con-
gress," he said, "because I must have money. There
is Chase," referring to the Secretary of the Treasury ;
"sometimes he calls for a million of dollars in the
course of twenty-four hours, and I can assure you
that it is not an easy matter to raise that amount in
a day." I replied that I had never found it very
easy. He then continued, "The result of this war is
a question of resources. That side will win in the
end where the money holds out longest; but if the
war should continue until it has cost us five hundred
■millions of dollars^' dwelling upon this sum with
much deliberation, as if it were the largest amount
that could well be conceived of, "the resources of
the country are such that the credit of the Govern-
ment will be better than it was at the close of the
War of the Revolution, with the comparatively small
debt that existed then." Suppose someone had
whispered in his ear, "This war will go on until it
has cost the nation nearer five thousand millions
than five hundred, and after it is all over, instead of
its taking half a peck of government paper to buy
a hat, the credit of the United States in a few years

142 REMINISCENCES.

will be so strong that its bonds at two or three per
cent, will be at a premium," what would have been
the aspect of Mr. Lincoln's expressive countenance?
Some time after this I called upon him as a
member of the Sanitary Commission, to see what
could be done for the exchange of prisoners. He
heard me very patiently and then said : "I feel just
as you do about this matter. I don't like to think
of our men suffering in the Southern prisons, neither
do I like to think that the Southern men are suffer-
ing in our prisons; but you don't want me to
recognize the Southern Confederacy, do you?" I
said of course not at present. "Well," he went on,
**I can't propose an exchange of prisoners without
recognizing the existence of the Confederate Govern-
ment." "Why is this necessary any more than it is
when you send in a flag of truce?" "I never sent a
flag of truce ; the Government has nothing to do with
that. It is done by the officers of the army on their
own responsibility." "If this is so, why could not
the matter be accomplished in another way ? A while
ago the Southern authorities sent back fifty-seven of
the sick and wounded prisoners in their hands, whom
of course they were glad to get rid of, and someone
at once sent back the same number of men whom
we held in confinement." "That was my idea." "It
was a very good idea; now why cannot that thing
be followed up, until the board is cleared? If you
send a hundred or five hundred of their men to the
South, they will be certain to return the same
number, and so in a short time the whole matter can
be managed without any negotiation at all." "I will
tell you why it can't be done at present ; I haven't

THE LATE WAR. 1 43

capital enough on hand to discount." This was his
way of putting things.

On a great occasion in Washington, when the
foreign ministers, the members of the Cabinet, and
other notable persons were present, I said to Mr.
Lincoln that it would gratify the curiosity of the
bystanders if these great people would be willing to
wear a label on their back, indicating their names
and titles, as Corsica Boswell did. "I do not think,"
he replied, "that I should need any label — they
would know me by my height. Here is Stanton,"
who stood by his side — a rather short, thick-set
figure; "he supposes that he has more weight of
character than I have, but I stand much higher in
society than he does."

It was a sad day for all of us when Abraham
Lincoln was taken away; if he had any frailty, it
was in excess of tenderness. I never saw him show
any marks of irascibility but once, and that was
when our Commission were crowding him in a direc-
tion he did not fancy, and he turned and said, with
some little asperity, "It looks to me as if you would
like to run this machine."

This talk about the labeling suggests a little
domestic incident connected with the War, which I
may be pardoned for mentioning. One of my
brothers, the Rev. Dr. George H, Clark, who wrote
the life of Cromwell, was the rector of St. John's
Church, Savannah, at the breaking out of the War,
and, desiring to visit England for a few months, he
availed himself of a blockade-runner, and having
accomplished his purpose, returned by the way of
Canada, intending to go back at once to Savannah

144 REMINISCENCES.

For more reasons than one he found this to be im-
practicable, but meanwhile he had left his little boy,
some four or five years old, in charge of a friend in
Savannah, and now the question was, how to recover
possession of him. By some negotiations with the
authorities on both sides, an arrangement was made
by which he was to be forwarded to Fortress Monroe,
passing from hand to hand with a label attached to
his clothes, indicating his name and destination.
Meanwhile my brother took up his abode at Fort-
ress Monroe, awaiting the arrival of his son ; but
the days passed by without his appearing, and at
last the flags of truce were suspended and all inter-
course between the two sections cut off. There was
nothing to do but wait for a change in affairs, and at
last there were some movements on the water indi-
cating that communication had been opened, and
in an hour or two a small boat appeared, and as it
neared the shore a cry was heard, ''There is papa!''
and the little boy, with the label on his back, had
reached his destination in safety.

In the beginning of the War, as might be expected,
there was very little economy in the conduct of
affairs, and a French or Russian army might have ?
been comfortably sustained by the food that was
wasted in our camps. I have seen barrels of good
bread, where some of the loaves had hardly been
broken, and other excellent material, thrown away
as garbage, while the impositions practised by those
who are always on the lookout to make money, what-
ever happens, were enormous. A complaint was
once made of the tea served in certain hospitals,
that turned the cups black and was nauseous to the

THE LATE WAR. 145

patients, and a package of this tea was sent to the
Sanitary Commission for inspection, when it was
found upon examination that there was not a leaf of
tea in the compound. It seemed also as if all the
worn out, rickety horses in the land had been sent
to Washington for the use of the Government.
One of these animals was put at my disposal, and
the first time I had occasion to use him I found that
he could hardly move without stumbling, and, after
trying him in every other pace, I thought that if I
could get him started on a full gallop he might not
have time to tumble down ; but in a minute or
two we parted company, and I went over his head
into the road, somewhat to my discomfiture and
mortification.

All sorts of inventions and contrivances were sub-
mitted to the attention of the authorities in Wash-
ington. The grounds of the War Department were
filled with tents of every conceivable design; all
kinds of novel cooking apparatus were offered for
trial, and the more elaborate they were the more
certain was the return to the old simple way of doing
things. I was made the bearer of the small model
of a gun, to be used on shipboard, so constructed
that it would take care of itself and do almost every-
thing automatically, but I never heard of its being
used. I was once present at the trial of a triple
shell, which, when discharged from the mortar, was
intended, after the first explosion, to go on a little
further and then explode again, and after that
explode a third time, it being constructed on the
principle of a Chinese carved ivory ball — of three
separate shells enclosed. It fulfilled its promise

146 REMINISCENCES.

tolerable well, but as it was a very costly thing to
make, and of not the slightest use after it was
made, nothing more was ever heard of it.

An ingenious townsman of mine took it into his
head that a great deal could be accomplished by
a fire-balloon of his invention, and means were fur-
nished him at Washington to test his experiment.
Accordingly he selected a large vacant hall and set
a score or two of women to work on his gigantic
balloon, and then took it out, accompanied by a few
friends, into a retired place in the country, to test
the machine. The inventor had relied upon a
multitude of wicks in an enormous kerosene lamp
to fire and raise the monster, but with all that he
could do it was impossible to induce the concern
even to stand upright, much less to rise in the air,
and of course that was the end of it. He was, how-
ever, one of those men who are never discouraged,
and whose inventive powers never fail, and his next
contrivance was a plan for arming the soldiers with
metallic mirrors, by the concentration of which
upon one spot, provided the sun was in a favorable
position and the enemy were willing to let them
alone while the mirrors were adjusted, the most dis-
astrous results might be obtained. There was never
any appropriation by the Government for testing
this scheme.

During a later stage of the War, vessels suddenly
appeared in Narragansett Bay loaded with more
than two thousand sick and wounded and invalided
men, with their attendants, for whom provision had
to be made on shore at short notice, and a site was
at once selected for their occupation on the island

THE LATE WAR. 147

of Rhode Island, a few miles north of Newport,
where a house had been erected some time before
for the accommodation of summer visitors. It was
an attractive place, fronting on the broad expanse of
the bay, and here in a short time as if by magic a
village sprung into existence, with its long wooden
shanties and underground water pipes and post-office
and express office and church and library, and every-
thing else that is needed for comfort and convenience
in a new settlement. All at once this retired spot
became a center of life and animation — the sick and
wounded had for the most part rallied sufficiently
to allow them to stroll about the grounds and amuse
themselves, or go off fishing in the little boats and
go to church on Sundays, and listen to the music of
the band, so that for the time being it could truly
be said :

" Grim-visaged war hath smoothed its wrinkled front."

To-day there is not a vestige to show that human
beings were ever seen there — even the old hotel is
wiped out of existence, and silence reigns, undis-
turbed by nothing but the cry of the fish-hawk and
the rumble of waves on the shore.

As a member of the Sanitary Commission I had
a kind of oversight of the place, and everything was
done to make things cheerful to the guests who had
come upon us so unexpectedly. Arrangements
were made to furnish the whole crowd with a sump-
tuous dinner — I have forgotten whether it was on
Christmas day or Thanksgiving — and innumerable
Rhode Island turkeys were obliged to sacrifice
themselves to meet the emergency, and everything

148 REMINISCENCES.

usually associated with the consumption of the
American bird was furnished without stint. I offici-
ated in their chapel as often as I could, and printed
a short collection of hymns for general use.

Among the inmates of the hospital there were a
number of Confederate prisoners, although there
was nothing to distinguish them from the rest of
the inmates ; they went about with the same freedom,
and off on the bay to fish if they chose, but of
course they were anxious to go back to their own
homes, and asked me one day whether I could not
do something to bring this about. I told them that
I was going to Washington in a few days and would
attend to the matter. I accordingly waited upon
the authorities in Washington, and, having laid the
case before them, I was told that they were anxious
to find as many prisoners as they could for the pur-
pose of exchange, but did not know that there were
any in Rhode Island, and before I left the office I had
the satisfaction of hearing the order given by tele-
graph for the immediate transportation of those men
to headquarters, and when I returned they had all
vanished. Before leaving they published an article
in our local papers, written by an accomplished
actor from New Orleans, expressing their grati-
tude for the kindness with which they had been
treated.

I cannot resist the temptation to record one little
incident, which had its humorous as well as its
pathetic side. I was looking one day upon the little
cemetery where the bodies of those who had died
were buried, and I observed that a certain number
of the graves were adorned with three large quahog

THE LATE WAR. 149

shells, gathered on the neighboring shore, while the
other graves were ornamented with only one shell.
I asked the veteran who had charge of the place
what this meant, and he replied, "Them graves with
only one shell are the Confederates," and I after-
ward found that he supposed himself to have had
some special grievance and relieved his mind by
making this somewhat invidious distinction.

The War is over, the old issues are dead, and a
new era awaits us. It has ended with no imputation
of cowardice or insincerity on either side — ended, as
President Lincoln said it would, by the prepon-
derance of resources. The honor of the nation is
undisturbed. The War was inevitable, sooner or
later, and we may all be thankful that the storm has
spent itself and sunshine has returned.

I once asked General Sherman if he had ever met
with Bishop Polk, and in reply he said that he never
saw him but once, and then proceeded to give the
story of his death, substantially as it appears in the
life of the bishop, recently published by his son.
"While the hostile camps were quite near each
other," he said, "and we were taking observations
of the movements of the forces, I saw three men
standing together on an eminence, and I told the
gunner by my side to send a shot into the midst of
the group. As soon as the ball struck the ground,
two of the persons retired from the scene, while
one man remained quietly standing in his place. I
then ordered another shot to be fired, and he fell.
In the afternoon I learned from the telegraphic
signals — 'Send coffin for General Polk's body' —
whom it was that I had killed."

150 REMINISCENCES.

It would seem as if the time ought to have arrived
when every conceivable issue that could arise be-
tween differing nations, or differing sections of the
same nation, might be settled by some other process
than the rude hand of war. In a war it is the
strongest that win, and might is not right. A tor-
nado may clear the atmosphere, but it is done at a
terrible cost.

It is a comfort to know that one great cause of
strife will trouble us no more, and yet the days of
storm may not have ended. Dark clouds still linger
in the horizon, and no one can tell how soon they
will discharge their fiery bolts. The questions at
issue to-day concern the great multitude, who will
control legislation as soon as they learn how to
exercise their power, and who can tell what may be
the result?

It is our boast to-day that we are the richest
country on the face of the earth, and yet at periodi-
cal intervals there are terrible financial crises, which
arrest the processes of trade, stop the wheels of our
factories, reduce the millions of workingmen to want,
destroy the value of investments, rob the farmer of
his markets, ruin multitudes of helpless widows and
orphans, while, at the same time, the earth continues
to yield abundant harvests and the warehouses are
glutted with products for which there is no sale. All
forms of excess are followed by a correspondent
reaction, and that is the trouble now in the finan-
cial world. The nation is not rich because it con-
tains a handful of very rich men. According to the
most reliable estimates, "the average annual income
of the richest hundred Americans cannot be less than

THE LATE WAR. I5I

$1,200,000, and probably exceeds $1,500,000. It
may safely be estimated that two hundred thou-
sand persons control seventy per cent, of the
national wealth. That is, three-tenths of one per
cent, of the population control seventy per cent of
the property." Is this a desirable condition of
things? Does it accord with the teachings of
Christ? Is it what might have been expected as
the result of those teachings?

"In New York city, where, according to the New
York Tribune, there are 1103 millionaires, worth
from one to one hundred and fifty millions each,
more than two-thirds of the population live in tene-
ment houses." If, in these "piping times of peace,"
things continued to drift as they are now drifting
for another twenty-five years, when the millions will
have become billions, the mountains rising all the
time higher and higher, while the dead-level below
remains immovable and perhaps sinking, instead of
rising, what must we expect? The reign of anarchy
means a reign of ruin, and it can be averted if
Christians, or if all who profess and call themselves
Christians, will obey the precepts and follow the
example of their Master. Absolute social equality
is a dream that has never been realized, and never
can be realized and never ought to be, but the
enormous inequalities in the temporal condition of
God's children are a libel upon Christianity. Those
inequalities were never so stupendous as they are
now. "The wealth of Croesus was estimated at only
$8,000,000, while there are seventy American estates
which average $35,000,000 each. The nabobs of
the later Roman republic became famous for their

152 REMINISCENCES.

immense fortunes, but the entire possessions of the
richest were not equal to the annual income of at
least one American."

If it is true that things alter for the worse inevi-
tably, unless they are altered for the better de-
signedly what must we look forward to in the
future if we sit down inertly and just let things
slide?

CHAPTER XIV.

THE FIRST PAN-ANGLICAN CONFERENCE.

Twenty-seven years have passed since the first
Pan-Anglican Conference was held in Lambeth
Palace, and very few of the bishops who assembled
there are now living. Some little time before the
meeting was held, I was standing with the arch-
bishop on the steps of the palace, and as an elderly
man in episcopal attire approached, he said with a
smile, "Here comes an Australian bishop, who lives
nearly opposite to you," and on my introduction to
him I remarked that we were "ordinarily accustomed
to stand with our heels opposed to each other."
Although the results which attended this gathering
of representative men from all quarters of the globe
were not very striking, many pleasant and life-long
friendships were formed, and upon the whole it may
have been as profitable as some other Church
councils where a great deal of ecclesiastical business
was done. I had the honor of being the guest of
Archbishop Longley during the session, and it was
a great privilege to be brought into such pleasant
relations with a man of his lovely and attractive quali-
ties. Most refined and venerable in appearance,
and full of dignity and grace, he had the look of an
archbishop with no air of pretension and nothing
in his manner or speech that indicated any conscious-

^53

154 REMINISCENCES.

ness of the high dignity bestowed upon him.
Although he was quite alone and his daughter was
the only one left to dwell with him, it was a cheerful
household and the rooms were filled with pleasant
things — pictures and books and domestic games,
such as are not ordinarily associated in our minds
with an ecclesiastical domicile. One day I took a
copy of Trollope's "Barchester Towers," which, with
its vivid description of Mrs. Proudy and her poor
henpecked Episcopal husband, seemed to be rather
an odd thing to find in such a place, and I asked
the archbishop's daughter if they really read such
books as that in ecclesiastical circles, and she said,
quite earnestly, "We devour them." I ventured
one day to suggest to the archbishop that, if he
would come over to America, he would find that we
were in the same condition with Sydney Smith, who
once said that "he had outgrown all his early super-
stitions except the Archbishop of Canterbury." It
was very delightful to wander about Lambeth Palace
under his guidance, and I well recall the expression
of his face as he said, while we were looking at the
portraits of the old archbishops in the armory room,
"You will observe that there is room left for only
one more picture on these walls."

Nothing could be more simple than the opening
service of the Pan-Anglican in the ancient chapel of
Lambeth. It consisted simply of the office of the
Holy Communion and the sermon. The Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, out of respect to the Ameri-
can branch of the Church, had invited Bishop Hop-
kins, at that time our presiding bishop, to preach
the opening sermon, and he accepted the invitation ;

THE FIRST PAN-ANGLICAN CONFERENCE. 1 55

but fearing that when the time arrived he might not
find himself strong enough to discharge the duty,
he asked the Bishop of Illinois to be ready for the
emergency, and, if necessary, take his place. At
the opening of the Conference, however, Bishop
Hopkins found that he was in sufficiently good con-
dition to fulfil his appointment, but Bishop White-
house, having prepared himself for the occasion, did
not think it expedient to retire from the field. The
text selected by the preacher is to be found in the
Epistle to the Colossians, chapter first, at the twenty-
fourth verse, "Who now rejoice in my sufferings for,
you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflic-
tions of Christ in my flesh for His body's sake, which
is the Church," and the substance of the discourse
was to the effect that it is the special province of
the Episcopate to fill up that which remains of the
sufferings of Christ. No action was taken in regard
to the publication of the sermon, and the reason for
this omission is given in the life of Archbishop Tait,
recently published, and is also indicated in Bishop
Wilberforce's diary.

The meeting of the Conference originated with
the Colonial bishops, and not with those resident
in Great Britain, and the Archbishop of York, with
the bishops of the Northern Province, declined to
attend. One of the objects which the Colonial
bishops wished to accomplish by this assemblage
was to secure the approval of the representatives of
every branch of the Anglican Communion to the
action of Bishop Gray, the MetropoHtan of Southern
Africa, in his condemnation and deposition of Bishop
Colenso; but inasmuch as the condemned bishop

156 REMINISCENCES.

continued to retain his office with its emoluments,
under the authority of the State, any interference
on the part of the English bishops would of neces-
sity involve many delicate questions incident to
their own tenure of office, and so, not because of
any special sympathy with Bishop Colenso, but as a
matter of general policy, it was not thought desir-
able to interfere with the matter at all. Accordingly
a programme was prepared and printed, assigning a
special subject for each portion of the few days that
the Conference was to be in session, hoping that
this might prevent the introduction of the Colenso
business altogether. Of course there followed a
great deal of talking against time, and, among other
things, a long and dreary discussion of the question
whether the first six General Councils should be
declared to be of authority, or only the first four,
the tedious talk being interrupted for a moment by
an emphatic cry from the irrepressible Bishop East-
burn, "Who really cares anything about those old
councils?" — and so it went on until the contested
question was disposed of by the decision that the
^'undisputed General Councils" should be regarded
as authoritative, leaving it with every individual to
determine for himself how many such councils there
were. At last, however, by some side issue the
dreaded explosive was introduced, and this, like a
bag of dynamite, required to be handled tenderly.
The members of the English bench wished to get
rid of it as quietly as possible, and the American
bishops, with the exception of Bishop Hopkins, took
little part in the debate — not regarding the matter
as specially concerning them, while the African

THE FIRST PAN-ANGLICAN CONFERENCE. 1 5/

Metropolitan, the so-called "lion-hearted Bishop
Gray," advanced to the fight with all his armor on.

On the one side Bishop Tait, with his skillful
rapier, did his best to parry and turn aside with
quiet persistency the attacks of the lion-hearted
Metropolitan — Bishop Wilberforce, of whom Charles
Sumner once said that if he had not unfortunately
been an ecclesiastic he might have been Lord High
Chancellor of England, steering the ship carefully
between Scylla and Charybdis, so that the church
might not touch the rocks on either side — Bishop
Thirlwall, greatest man of all, whose carefully chosen
words fell like a ponderous trip hammer upon the
anvil beneath, and a man endowed with just that
absence of oratorical grace that sometimes gives one
peculiar power — those were the three most promi-
nent speakers on one side; while Bishop Gray, "the
lion-hearted," rising above all questions of expedi-
ency, maintained his cause unflinchingly and with a
fiery earnestness and ferocity of virtue, indicating
that he needed no help from others, but was entirely
competent to fight his battles alone. The result of
the whole controversy was the refusal on the part
of the Conference as a body to take any official
action in the premises.

This allusion to Bishop Gray reminds me that on
one occasion subsequent to this, when the members
of the Pan-Anglican Conference were entertained in
St. James' Hall by the Society for the Propagation
of the Gospel, the bishop indulged himself in a vio-
lent and ill-timed address, in the middle of which I
left the hall and on my way to the street encountered
Bishop Tait, at that time Bishop of London, who

158 REMINISCENCES.

seemed to be in a state of great irritation, and pro-
ceeded to comment upon the address which was then
in the process of delivery after a fashion which
startled me a little, considering the position of the
speaker, and I observe that in his diary, under date
of the same day, the good man expresses his regret
that he should have been tempted to say some
unwise and imprudent things. There was really
nothing wrong or untrue in what he said, but the
flavor of the words was not distinctively Episcopal.

The general results attained by the first Pan-
Anglican Conference, as I have already remarked,
were not very striking — no great subject bearing
upon the necessities and peculiar perils of the age
was considered, and nothing that was likely to
bring out the best powers of the men who sat in
council, in which respects it was in marked contrast
with some of the sessions which have followed. It
was a delightful family party, allowing for the little
jars incidental to domestic gatherings, but it left
no great impression on the world at large, and the
results hardly seemed to warrant the expenditure
of time and money required in gathering together
such a large body of men from every quarter of the
globe.

A somewhat novel series of services was held at
noon-day, during the week preceding the session
of the Conference, in old St. Lawrence Church, in the
Jewry, for the benefit of business men, and the
crowds in attendance were so great as to lead the
London Times to protest against the blocking of
the streets in business hours by these gatherings.
I was appointed to take my turn on Thursday, and

THE FIRST PAN-ANGLICAN CONFERENCE. 1 59

informed that a carriage would be sent in due season
to bring me to the church. I was staying at Prince's
Gate in Hyde Park, several miles from the church,
and after waiting for the carriage as long as I dared,
I called for a cab and told the driver that he should
have double fare if he would put me down at the
church before twelve o'clock. As he had to drive
through the busiest streets of London, it required all
the skill of a London cabman to do this, and when
I reached my destination it was some time before
I could penetrate the crowd and reach the vestry-
room. After this experience I was not in a very
good condition for the work before me, and as I had
written nothing, of course I was in an anxious and
uncomfortable frame of mind. There was no pre-
liminary service but the Te Deum, and when I looked
down from the pulpit upon the crowd of men
assembled in that ancient temple, my heart sank
within me. However, I did the best that I could
to rally my poor scattered faculties, and at last, when
I struck the right key and began to tell the laymen
how indispensable it was for them to take hold and
do their part if they wished to save the old ship, I
had no further cause for embarrassment, and the
manifest sympathy of the audience helped me on
comfortably to the end.

CHAPTER XV.

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD.

I HAVE already alluded to my experience in find-
ing the way from Prince's Gate to St. Lawrence
Church in Jewry, and not long after I was invited
by one of the large church societies in London to
preach on a Sunday morning in a remote part of the
outskirts of the city, with the view of making a col-
lection in its behalf. The congregation was large
and apparently very intelligent, and if all of the five
hundred people who were present contributed the
same amount that I was obliged to pay for the
privilege of addressing them the offertory must
have been a generous one.

I had another experience in London a little later
on that was somewhat peculiar.

I had engaged to preach in a large church near
Hyde Park on a Sunday morning, and I took with
me a sermon that I thought was suitable for the
occasion, when, at the close of the Nicene creed, and
the time came for me to enter the pulpit, the rector
gave out Heber's missionary hymn. I crossed the
chancel and asked him if he had selected that hymn
for any particular reason, and he said, "Of course;
you are to preach this morning in behalf of the
Society for the Propagation of the Gospel." I told
him that I had never been in formed of this, and it

1 60

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. l6l

would be impossible for me to do so without some
preparation, He replied that I had been posted all
about the city, that the people had come there for
the special purpose of hearing me on that subject,
and a collection was to be made accordingly, and
I must do it, whether I could or not. I saw that
there was no alternative, and crawled up the pulpit
stairs in a most forlorn condition of mind, and trust-
ing that some higher power might come to my
rescue. While they were singing the last verse of
the hymn it occurred to me that the best thing I
could do was to inform the congregation just what
had happened and throw myself upon their mercy,
telling them, at the same time, that they knew about
as well as I did what I was going to say. I then
gave the first start to the engine by remarking that
if anyone from the other side of the water ought to
be able to speak in behalf of this society without
much preparation, I supposed that I was the man,
as I represented a diocese which was founded by
that society in the second year of its existence, and
all the churches in Rhode Island were aided by the
same during the larger part of the last century. I
then went on to tell them in detail just what had
been done there, and spoke of old Trinity in New-
port, where Berkeley used to preach, with the organ
still standing in the gallery, surmounted by the
crown and miter, which was his gift, and everything
about the building, just as it was in the beginning,
nearly two hundred years ago. Then I took them
across the bay, and showed them the old Narragan-
sett Church, with the date of its erection, 1707, over
the door, the oldest Episcopal church now standing

l62 REMINISCENCES.

in the Northern States, and where we still hold
services on pleasant summer afternoons, although a
new church has been built close by. Then I told
them of the arrival of their missionary in Bristol on
a Saturday evening, before the church was finished,
and how he started the people off to get benches
and put the church in condition for service on the
next morning ; and then I had a few words to say
about the old King's Church in Providence, now
known as St. John's, and told them how much these
churches were doing for missions and how the seed
which the society had sown had multiplied a hun-
dred-fold, and so on to the end, and upon the whole
I am inclined to believe that the offering that day
was as large as it would have been if I had delivered
what is commonly known as "an able and eloquent
discourse."

I saw one of the big posters on which the rector
of the church had relied to give me information of
the fact that I was to preach on behalf of the Society
for the Propagation of the Gospel and it would have
done credit to Mr. Barnum, both in its size and bril-
liant coloring, but it did not happen to attract my
attention in time for the Sunday service.

I have one further experience to relate of the trials
which befell me abroad. On a certain anniversary
occasion I preached in Winchester Cathedral, in the
presence of Bishop Sumner, who has had three suc-
cessors in office since that time, and to my amaze-
ment, among those who occupied the chancel was
Canon Carus, Simeon's Curate in Oxford, and whom
I associated with a former age — just as I once told
Bishop Short of St. Asaph's, whose history of the

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. 163

Church of England had been on my shelf nearly as
long as I can remember, that I had always thought
of him in connection with the period of the "ju-
dicious Hooker." And there was also, at the time
of which I speak, another clergyman in the chancel,
more than ninety years old and entirely blind, who
intoned the prayers by memory. Everything went
off very pleasantly during the day, and my trials
came in the evening. Bishop Wilberforce, hearing
that I was to be in Winchester on that day, had
written to ask me if I would meet him at night in
the City Hall, where he was to deliver an address
on missions, and say a few words relative to the
condition of the Church in the United States. I
replied that I would do so cheerfully, and in the
evening, on my arrival at the Hall, I found a large
assemblage of the best people in Winchester, the
school and cathedral professors and canons on the
platform, with the Mayor and Aldermen of the city,
and the member of Parliament in the chair. Just
as the hour for opening the meeting arrived, a tele-
gram from Bishop Wilberforce was placed in the
chairman's hands, stating that he had been suddenly
taken ill and could not be present. After reading
this message to the audience and expressing his
regrets, the chairman said that as but one other
speaker had been engaged, he must request the
Bishop of Rhode Island to occupy the entire even-
ing, adding that carriages had been ordered for half
after nine o'clock. In our land, of course, there
would have been at least half a dozen speakers
ready to meet the emergency and talk at any length,
but it is not so in the mother country. For a

164 REMINISCENCES.

moment, as might be expected, I was in great per-
plexity, when a happy thought came into my mind,
which brought relief. I began my remarks by say-
ing that it would have been somewhat trying to
supplement an address from the Bishop of Oxford,
and it would be impossible for me to take his place,
especially as I had made no preparation except to
think over a few points, which I could dispose of in
half an hour, but, I added, "If those who are pres-
ent, while I am talking, will charge their minds with
questions pertaining to the subject in hand, I will
do what I can to answer them." Accordingly, after
the thirty minutes were over, 1 said, "I will now wait
for the audience to respond," and the questions
came fast and thick, some of which I was able to
answer, while others were beyond my depth, as I
honestly confessed. The result was that we had a
lively time, and much more agreeable than it would
have been if I had gone on droning for another hour.
In resorting to this device, I presumed very much
upon the intelligence and good breeding of my
auditors; in some cases it would not be likely to
work very well.

Some murky associations were revived at 2, purple
dinner at Fulham, the residence of the Bishop of
London — not by the purple color of the clothes
worn by English bishops on state occasions, but by
the surroundings of the table. Everything had a
flavor of the past — the bishop's chaplain in gown
and bands to say grace, as we see in Hogarth's pic-
tures, the more honored guests occupying the raised
dais, with the high minstrel's gallery at the opposite
end, and as I looked about the stately hall I asked

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. 165

the bishop if he was accustomed to dine there when
he was alone with his family. He said with a smile
that the dining-hall came into use only on special
occasions, remarking that this room was fitted up
and furnished by Bishop Bonner, and had never been
altered since his time. All at once there came to
me the recollection of the long Sunday hours, when
in my boyhood I used to linger over the pages of
Fox's "Book of Martyrs," and read about the awful
Bishop Bonner, and look at the pictures of the poor
wretches put to death under his instigation, and it
was this which made the atmosphere of that dining-
hall seem so ghostly and gruesome.

I recall one or two other dinners later on at Lam-
beth, after Bishop Tait was elevated to the See of
Canterbury, one of which was said to be the largest
gathering of bishops ever assembled at a dinner
table in London, conspicuous among whom was an
African bishop, in full Anglican costume, and no
one was treated with greater deference than this
sable ecclesiastic. The other dinner was a small
affair, the most conspicuous guest being the famous
Trojan explorer Schlieman, who to a great extent
monopolized the talk with interesting stories of his
adventures and discoveries, as it was hoped he would
do, and after the guests had gone and we were
sitting by the parlor fire, talking over the dinner,
the archbishop said: "It is a great relief, when you
ask a lion to dine with you, to find that he is willing
to roar."

The character of Archbishop Tait is so familiar
to us all that it might seem to be superfluous, if not
impertinent, to say a word in'his praise, but I cannot

l56 REMINISCENCES.

deny myself the satisfaction of expressing my own
deep sense of his kindness to one who had no claim
whatever upon his attention, and could have no
opportunity of returning that kindness. He was a
man of many sorrows, but he made many others
happy.

I also wish to say a few words of the late Arch-
bishop Thompson, to whom I was indebted for the
most abundant hospitality, and under whose roof at
Bishopsthorpe I passed some of the most delightful
days of my life. Since his departure I have seen
him spoken of in the public papers as cold and
repellant, but my own experience was that no one
could be more approachable and agreeable. I
remember how he used to come into my room in
the forenoon and talk by the hour, and laugh over
the letters that I received from home. One evening
at dinner, as we were discussing some historical
event, he pointed to a picture on the wall, which
was lined with portraits of the archbishops of York,
going back to a very remote period, and said, pleas-
antly, "This event must have occurred in the time
of tJiat old chap up there in the corner," pointing to
one of his illustrious predecessors.

I was requested by some of the canons of York
Minster to ask the archbishop if he would not favor
certain changes in the interior arrangements of the
edifice, and he told me in reply that it would be
worse than useless for him to interfere. This free-
dom of the abbeys from Episcopal control seems to
be a singular anomaly. At the meeting of the Pan-
Anglican it was desired to hold the closing services
in Westminister Abbey, but the Bishop of London

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. 1 6/

said that he had no rights there, and the service was
not held. In some ways the old dead monks still
have their way.

Archbishop Thompson was a learned man and a
profound thinker, and the author of a few excellent
works. He told me that one of the most satisfactory
things in connection with his literary efforts was the
introduction of his book on Logic in our American
schools. He was a man of commanding appearance
and looked the archbishop, but I never saw any
vestige of the pomp of manner which has been attrib-
uted to him. He had his own opinions, and was
not likely to give them up very readily, but he had
no fond conceit of wisdom and none of that show of
magnificence in which some ecclesiastics indulge.
He was a true and a good man.

I must not fail to record the attractiveness of
Bishop Wilberforce, as I saw him in the privacy of
domestic life, where he always had so much to
occupy him, being obliged, as he told me, to send
off on the average fifty letters a day. He was re-
fulgent at his own dinner table, especially as he
appeared one evening when he had invited a few of
the Oxford men to dine with him, including the
Vice Chancellor of the University, Dean Mansell,
Dr. Liddon, and others. It was a very lively dinner,
and Dean Mansell was particularly occupied in
putting strange conundrums. Toward the close of
the entertainment I told him that I had read some
of his books, although I was not sure that I really
understood them, and I had expected that we should
have something in the same line from his lips on the
present occasion, but I had been disappointed. He

l68 REMINISCENCES.

laughed and said that the dinner table was not the
place for that sort of thing. I then thought that I
would try him on a question of ethics, and asked
the very commonplace question, "Do you think it is
ever right to tell a lie?" "Never!" he replied with
great emphasis. I then went on, "Suppose that you
were captured by a pirate and your life had been
spared on the condition that you would never betray
him, and subsequently to this you found that if you
did not betray him your wife and children would be
captured and killed, what would you do?" "I would
betray him, whether it was right or wrong," which
showed that after all Dean Mansel was human.
Dr. Liddon was the only silent man at the table,
and he appeared as if his thoughts were revolving in
some higher sphere.

Bishop Wilberforce's untimely death recalls an
incident that shows how fond he was of horse-back
riding, although it has been said that he never knew
how to ride. We were going into Oxford one morn-
ing and he said that I might take the carriage and
he would join me at a fork in the road, as he always
preferred to ride as far as he could, and when he
appeared and took his seat in the carriage, I observed
that he was a good deal spattered with mud and
hardly in proper condition to go to London, whither
he was bound. Presently he said, "You don't mind
my closing the windows," and proceeded to extract
a fresh suit of clothes from under the seat, in which
he arrayed himself as a gentlemen should for the
metropolis. And yet it was by a fall from his horse
that he eventually lost his life.

Judging from what I saw and heard I should infer

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. 169

that there is greater liberty of speech in England
than we should be willing to endure in our land.
While I was a guest of the Archbishop of York I
attended a missionary meeting, with the archbishop
in the chair, when it was arranged that there should
be four speakers, representing the four quarters of
the globe, and after we had concluded our talks a
gentleman in the audience arose and proceeded to
read the clergy of the cathedral a terrific lecture on
the neglect of duty, saying, among other things,
that they were shut up in their aristocratic retire-
ment, with every luxury about them, and never
troubling themselves about the wants and sufferings
of the poor neglected classes in York, and closing
with the remark that he intended to put a hundred-
pound note on the plate when it came around. I
afterward inquired who it was that had introduced
himself in this way, and was told that he was one
of the most prominent lawyers of the city. His
remarks did not appear to cause any excitement,
and I heard no comments made upon the scene
afterward.

Later on I had a somewhat similar experience in
Cambridge. I arrived there about noon, and know-
ing no one I strolled off by myself to see the sights,
and soon encountered a stranger in the street, who
stopped and said that he had recently heard me
preach in London and I might be pleased to know
that the Archdeaconry was in session and were at that
time lunching at a tavern which he pointed out, add-
ing that they would be glad to see me there. I at
once acted upon this suggestion, and, having sent in
my card, was cordially received and given a seat at

I/O REMINISCENCES.

the table. It seemed that the subject of debate was
the co-operation of the laity in church work, and as
I entered a lay delegate had the floor, who certainly
was gifted with great plainness of speech. I listened
with wonder and almost with consternation as he
went on to arraign the clergy for their manifold
deficiencies, making his own rector the special sub-
ject of criticism ; but no one appeared to be at all
disturbed. When he took his seat I was asked to
tell them how the whole thing worked in the United
States, where the laymen are so prominent in church
affairs, and what counsel I had to give. I began by
saying that from what I had seen and heard I should
advise them to begin with breaking in the laity
gradually, as colts are broken, by giving them a
double or triple load to carry at first, and then, when
they were sufficiently subdued, to put them into
harness — remarking that in my first parish it was
said that while I was the Rector^ the Warden was
the Director, and the Warden's wife the Corrector,
What more I said I have forgotten, but the result
was a favorable one for me, as one of the Fellows
who sat by my side at once asked me where I had
left my luggage, saying that I must be his guest
while I remained in Cambridge.

I had another pleasant experience in Oxford,
where at the time I had no acquaintance and carried
no letters of introduction. On my arrival at the
station a young man accosted me, saying that his
father was the Dean of Winchester, and had informed
him that I was to arrive by that train and that I
must regard myself as in his charge. This of course
opened to me all that I cared to see and hear in

MY EXPERIENCE ABROAD. I /I

Oxford, and I have never had the opportunity to
thank the young man for his kindness until I met a
middle-aged and somewhat portly English clergy-
man on the street in Baltimore, at the meeting of
our last General Convention, who stopped and asked
me if I remembered the youth who met me in
Oxford at the railway station, and then told me that
he was that young man. I was rejoiced to see him,
and pleased to hear that he was occupying posts of
great importance and influence in the Church of
England.

I have many other reminiscences of life abroad,
of which I might speak, if it were not for the fear
of becoming tedious. I recall with much interest
the memory of a plain, rough church in doleful East
London, with its unplastered brick walls, but still
made bright and cheerful by its attractive ritual and
chancel adornments, where the humble people
crowded round after service to ask after their friends
and relations in America, some of them in one part
of the continent and some in another, and yet whom
they could not help feeling I must have met some-
where; and another little stone church in the Scotch
Highlands, tucked away in an obscure corner among
the hills, where the high and mighty lairds came in
full costume, and where we had a service of marvel-
ous length, with full Morning Prayer and Litany, the
Holy Communion and sermon. Baptism and the
Churching Office, and the Lord's Prayer repeated
indefinitely, and where the good Scotch critics com-
plained of my brogue in the pulpit. I would also
like to tell of the delightful days spent under good
Dean Ramsay's roof in Edinburgh — the Scot of

172 REMINISCENCES.

Scots — whom the cabmen of Edinburgh adore, for
when they found that I was going to his house they
seemed inclined to take me there on their shoulders.
I would also like to say a little about our American
churches on the continent of Europe, all of which I
have visited, and some general experiences in various
foreign regions, but my space is limited, and for this
my readers may possibly feel they have reason to be
thankful.

CHAPTER XVI.

A FEW NOTABLE MEN.

There were a few notable men whom I knew,
and of whom I have not yet spoken, who had
certain marked characteristics that distinguished
them from the rank and file of the clergy.
Seventy-four years ago the Rev. Philander Chase
resigned the rectorship of Christ Church, Hart-
ford, and went off as a missionary into what
was then regarded as the Wild West. He could
have had but one motive for doing this, mak-
ing some allowance for the spirit of adventure that
always had possession of him, and off he started to
do his own work in his own way, without much
regard for the formalities of ofifice or opinion of
others. The general incidents of his career are so
well known as to need no recital here. Kenyon
College, in Ohio, stands as the monument of his first
great adventure, for the building of which he ex-
tracted liberal donations abroad, at a time when it
was considered presumptuous to make such an
application, especially in England. When "the
force of circumstances" — which is accountable for
so much in this world — drove him from Ohio, he
started again in Illinois and toiled hard for the
establishment of another institution, which he called,
somewhat prematurely. Jubilee College, but, after

173

174 REMINISCENCES.

a precarious existence, it has passed into oblivion.
He had a genius for begging, and this with him was
one of the fine arts.

On the occasion of a visit to New York, on one
of his eleemosynary expeditions, while at dinner in
the company of a little circle of rich men, he was
observed to be uncommonly silent and sad, when
one of the company asked him if he had anything
special in his mind that disturbed him. He replied
that he had, but did not like under the circum-
stances to make any allusion to the occasion of his
trouble. As soon, however, as they began to express
their sympathy, his mouth was opened, and he said
with many groanings and sighs that he was wonder-
ing how he could get home, as he had no wagon and
no money to buy one. At once the gentlemen
present begged him to give himself no anxiety on
that score, as it would give them the greatest pleas-
ure to furnish him with a carriage. Upon this he
rallied, and for a time w^as as buoyant as ever, but
soon relapsed into his previous melancholy con-
dition. Of course the inquiry then came, if there
was anything further that disturbed him, and after
a reasonable amount of urging he said it had just
occurred to him that a vehicle would be of no ser-
vice if he had no horse to attach to it, and again his
mind was relieved and he became once more a very
attractive companion.

He was a man of indomitable courage, and where
the occasion demanded it he could storm and
threaten like a king. When he was once called to
cross a very tumultuous and dangerous pond, the
Indian in whose canoe he proposed to make the

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1/5

passage declined to run the risk, when the bishop,
who was of ponderous dimensions, drew himself up
to his full height and cried in a voice of thunder,
"Launch your canoe ! JehovaJijireh!''' The terrible
cabalistic word had its effect, and the burly bishop,
with his frightened pilot, crossed the stream in
safety.

The late Bishop Henry W. Lee of Iowa, who was
very thin in his youth but grew to be uncomfort-
ably stout in advanced life, told me that he some-
times felt inclined to attribute his excessive growth
to an anathema once pronounced upon him when
he unintentionally laughed at the aged prelate as he
was trying to help him out of a carriage and he got
stuck on the way, when the bishop turned upon him
in his wrath, and doomed him to become as fat as
he was before he died. A man of his temperament
could hardly help becoming the victim of strong
prejudices, of which I had a signal illustration when
the Rev. Dr. Dorr and myself waited upon him, as
a Committee of the Pennsylvania Convention, to
arrange the order of services for Bishop Potter's
consecration. Dr. Dorr, who conducted the whole
matter, was an intelligent high churchman, and
knowing something of Bishop Chase's peculiarities,
he proceeded to suggest, with great discretion, one
by one, the names of the bishops who were expected
to officiate, and as long as he kept along the line of
the low churchmen, it was all very lovely and the
good old gentleman would interrupt him with such
exclamations as, "Good Bishop Lee!" and "God
bless saintly Bishop Eastburn !" "Yes, yes, put his
name down !" and so on with a gradual diminuendo

176 REMINISCENCES.

in the musical scale as he approached the other line
in the apostolic succession, when there was a
change in the atmosphere, and when the last name
was mentioned — most obnoxious of all — the presid-
ing bishop rushed from the table with an exclama-
tion which it is not worth while to repeat, and so he
continued to stalk up and down the room, until he
had time to cool off. The whole thing did not mean
much ; it was only the effervescence of the man's
nature — everything went on smoothly enough after
he had relieved his mind. He was a true, genuine,
earnest, self-sacrificing man, and if he did nothing
more than the clearing away the underbrush in the
woods to make way for those who were to succeed
him, he certainly did not live in vain.

The Rev. Dr. George T. Chapman was a noted
man of the same period ; like Bishop Chase, a pon-
derous person, with large features, large feet, large
hands, a deep, sonorous voice and a general air of
one born to command. A volume of his, entitled
"Sermons to Presbyterians," had a wide circulation
and made many converts to Episcopacy. He had
not a very wide range of acquirements, but what he
did know he knew thoroughly and believed im-
plicitly. He had a strong gift of assertion, and
always spoke ex cathedra in public and private,
His ordinary talk was in the style of declamation,
and he enjoyed in the highest degree a gladiatorial
contest with an earnest adversary. He never made
any compromises, never made any nice distinctions,
was never influenced by sentiment or carried away
by his feelings. It was with him an occasion of
great lamentation that the doctrine of eternal dam-

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1 77

nation was not preached more persistently, and
to this neglect he attributed most of the errors
and evils of the time. It was not worth while
to argue with him about anything; he had made
up his mind and that was the end of it. He re-
tired from active duty some time before his death,
and closed his days peacefully in Newburyport,
my native town.

The Rev. Dr. Hallam, of New London, Conn.,
was always an object of interest in the circle where
he moved, and those who knew him most intimately
had the greatest admiration of his powers. He was
sharp-sighted and read men and things very keenly,
and was specially gifted in sententious criticism. I
once asked him what he thought of a certain sermon
preached on a great occasion, and he replied that it
had considerable merit and contained some things
that were new and some that were true, but the new
were not true and the true were not new.

He was noted for his extraordinary texts. Hav-
ing been invited to preach the sermon at the conse-
cration of a little church in a rocky town, he selected
for his text Proverbs xxx. 26: "The conies are
but a feeble folk, yet made they their houses in
the rocks." He was, however, induced to change
the text before delivering the discourse. He
once preached a sermon in my church at Hart-
ford from Hosea vii. 8: "Ephraim is a cake
not turned." Then going on to say, "Like some
Christians of an uncertain sort — half dough, half
charcoal," and a wonderful sermon it was, full
of pithy thoughts and wise suggestions. He
was very absent-minded, and his wife told me that

178 REMINISCENCES.

she would not venture to send him to buy any-
thing without furnishing him with a written order,
as, if she asked him to send home a bag of flour, he
was just as likely to order a gallon of molasses.
He once took his hat with him into the pulpit
instead of his sermon, and after rising from his pri-
vate devotions, according to the custom of the times,
it was an awkward matter to convey the hat back
again to the vestry-room and bring back the sermon
in its place. He was a noble specimen of a some-
what obsolete type of clergymen, and died quietly
in his nest after having secured the erection of a
beautiful church, and leaving behind him the record
of a true and most exemplary life.

The name of the Rev. James Cook Richmond
was once very familiar in the Church, and probably
no clergyman ever lived in this country who founded
as many parishes as he did. It was not in his nature
to remain long in any one place, and he went up
and down the land, doing all sorts of novel things,
and electrifying the people by his earnestness and
eloquence. I remember in my early life how we
would sometimes hear the church bell ring out
unexpectedly on a week day, and then we knew that
Mr. Richmond must have suddenly turned up and
there would be a public service in the evening. He
once lighted upon me at an evening chapel service
in Boston, and insisted upon preaching, to which I
reluctantly consented on the condition that he
would limit himself to twenty minutes, and thus
give me time to say a few words which I had pre-
pared for the occasion. After he had far exceeded
the time allotted him I pulled his skirts, as I sat

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1 79

behind him in the chapel desk, to indicate that his
time was up, but, instead of quietly taking the hint,
he told the congregation what I was doing and what
it meant ; but, he went on to say, "as I have already
broken over my limits, I may as well occupy the
entire evening," and I had no opportunity of adding
any words of my own.

During a time of high political excitement in Aus-
tria, Mr. Richmond's peculiar movements excited
the suspicions of the authorities, and an ofificer was
detailed to track his footsteps. He told me that he
soon found this out and was determined to test the
man's power of endurance, which, with his long legs
and wonderful physical vigor, would be to him a
comparatively easy task. Accordingly he led the
poor detective all day long, upstairs and downstairs,
and through the streets and alleys and parks, until
he retired from the scene utterly exhausted. Mr.
Richmond was arrested at last on suspicion, but
escaped by declaring himself to be a Catholic priest,
which with his church views he could do honestly
enough.

In the latter part of his career he had charge of a
church in Milwaukee, where he drew crowds by his
fervent preaching, but at last his eccentricities
became so marked that the doors of the church were
closed against him. When Sunday came he col-
lected a number of his friends, and standing before
the door with a heavy ax in his hands he repeated,
with deep solemnity, "In the name of the Father
and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost," striking the
door with all his might three times, when it gave way
and the usual morning service proceeded. It hardly

l8o REMINISCENCES.

needs to be added that this was his last appearance
in that church.

As a specimen of Mr. Richmond's "great plainness
of speech," I give the following extract from a
"Palm Sunday sermon," preached by him in St.
Paul's Church, Milwaukee.

"As the rector of this church, and having the
care of immortal souls, I wish also deliberately to
apologize to some of the communicants of this
church, for having been so thoughtless as to appoint
a service in the Church of Christ, on a fast day in
Lent, at the same hour when a celebrated play actor
was to mimic a fat man on a stage in a hall.

"The great De Tocqueville, in his immortal work
on the Democracy of America, says: 'Behold a
nation rotten before ripe !' and since it is here
thought to be the duty of an American preacher, in
a free country, to keep back the truth, lest it should
not tickle the ears of some of the people who pay
his salary, and lest, being offended when their sins
are reproved, they should remove their custom to
another meeting-house, I do think it would be a
profitable and popular po/icj/ in me, and wicked and
condemned by Christ for me, to sacrifice my feel-
ings, try to be popular, veer about like a weather-
cock with every breath of the dying people, and try
my hand at a new business — viz., preaching to order
and to suit.

"The Holy Week is begun. There will be morn-
ing prayers every day at 10:30. As to the evening,
I wish to compromise with those communicants who
allowed the church bell to toll them to the funeral
of their souls — the play house, on a fast-day — last

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. l8l

Friday evening, in Lent ; but as I do not yet know
what very popular and favorite play-actor may
intend to come out in some pleasing farce next
Holy Wednesday evening, I will omit, for the sake
of my play-going communicants, the intended Holy
Wednesday evening service. {This did Jiappen}j

"But I promise you, truly and dearly beloved, that
I will preach more plainly, more closely, more boldly,
and most truthfully, hereafter; so that when I am
removed by your anger, or by death, some man
shall stand up over my sepulcher, and say : 'Here
lies a priest, once beloved and well beloved up to
the time when he told the truth and the whole of
it ; not with much force, indeed, nor any great ability,
but with a good degree of straightforwardness,
humbly striving to follow the example of Him who
once went into the Temple of God and overthrew
the tables of the money changers, interfering with
business, heavy profits, rapid sales, and quick
returns.' "

During his ministrations in Rhode Island he was
accustomed to hold services under the shadow of an
ancient oak near the place where Mr. Blaxton lies
buried, and to this time it has been known as "the
Catholic oak." It is proposed to hold occasional
services in the same place during the summer.

I knew another clergyman of the olden time
who deserves to be commemorated — the Rev. John
Bristed, for many years the rector of St. Michael's
Church, Bristol, R. I. He was an Englishman who
came to this country as a lawyer, and wrote one
or two readable books. Although he was not the
material of which ministers of the gospel are usually

l82 REMINISCENCES.

made, he possessed certain peculiar attractions which
were likely to make him prominent in whatever
pursuit he might see fit to engage, and in process
of time presented himself to Bishop Griswold for
ordination, whose successor he became as the rector
of the Bristol church. Previous to this he had
married a daughter of Mr. John Jacob Astor on the
condition that he was to derive no pecuniary benefit
from the connection, but after a while the contract-
ing parties, finding that they were not altogether
congenial, agreed to live apart for the remainder of
their days. As an evidence, however, of there being
no feeling of hostility between them, they were
accustomed to dine together once in every year at
Mr. Bristed's residence in New York. It would have
been interesting to listen to their conversation on
such occasions, when they were obliged to concen-
trate the talk of a whole year within the space of a
few hours. They had one son, Mr. Charles Astor
Bristed, well known in literary circles and a distin-
guished scholar at Oxford.

Mr. Bristed was very unconventional in his habits
and expressed himself without reserve. The first
time that I met him was at a meeting of the Con-
vention of the Eastern Diocese, fifty or sixty years
ago. An effort had been made to elect an assistant
bishop, and Drs. J. W. Wainwright and John S. Stone
were the rival candidates. A few of us bolted and
cast our votes for Professor Alonzo Potter, and this
defeated the election, much to the chagrin of Mr.
Bristed. I happened to sit at the same table with
him at tea that evening, when his eye suddenly fell
upon me, and without waiting for an introduction

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1 83

he exclaimed with vehemence, "You are one of the
men that tried to sit down on two stools this morn-
ing," and then he went on to administer discipline
to his heart's content. I bore it all meekly, as I
knew that it gratified him and did me no special
harm. At the close of another Convention he said
to me, "I am so deaf that I have not been able to
hear one word that has been said to-day." "But
you voted every time," I replied, "how did you
know which way to vote?" "Oh, I never have any
trouble about that, I just watch the Philistines, and
when they vote one way I vote the other way, and
then I am sure to be right."

A young man was once reading the service for
him in his chapel, and not having a very clear under-
standing of the Scripture, he read the passage, "Go
to 710ZU, ye rich men," with a strong emphasis on the
now, when Mr. Bristed interrupted him by saying in
a loud tone, "Go to where?"

There was a large influx of the Methodists into
the Episcopal Church during his ministry, bringing
their prayer-meetings and many other peculiar insti-
tutions with them, and he welcomed them all and
rather encouraged their ways and doings. The Rev.
Dr. Milnor of St. George's Church, New York, was
in Mr. Bristed's study one Sunday morning, when he
was startled by a tremendous sound from the neigh-
boring chapel, and rushing after Mr. Bristed, he
asked anxiously what it all meant, "Oh, that is
Brother A. at prayer." "Does he always make as
much noise as this?" "Well, he runs the ferry
between Bristol and Rhode Island, about a mile or
two across the.water, and when he asks a blessing at

l84 REMINISCENCES.

the table, he can be heard distinctly over on the
island."

The race of strongly marked, eccentric men seems
to be dying out — the constant attraction to which
we are all subjected wears off the rough edges and
polishes human beings down to a smoother and
rounder surface, just as ordinary stones are reduced
to the form of round marbles, after being rolled long
enough in a barrel. We have lost something of
archaic picturesqueness by this process, but I sup-
pose there is no help for it. Good Bishop Latimer
and Dr. South, and other divines of their stamp,
would astonish a modern congregation by their
utterances but they would be sure to keep the
people awake.

I did not intend to speak of my brother, the Rev.
Dr. Samuel A. Clark of New Jersey, but so many of
his old friends have earnestly requested me to say
something about him that I feel constrained to make
a brief allusion to one whose departure from earth
made it a darker place for me than it ever was
before. One who met him casually and when it
was high-tide with him might be inclined to say :
"This is a very amusing and humorous man and his
talk borders upon frivolity," but let the same person
see him in the pulpit, or engaged in any religious
service, and he would say : "This is a very earnest
and serious man ; he believes from his heart every
word that he utters; he is trying to save the souls of
these people whom he addresses." Or again, if he
were overheard dealing with a wealthy parishioner in
private who had fallen into evil habits, or with one
of his communicants who Avas leading an inconsis-

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1 85

tent life, the same observer would be likely to say :
"This is a most courageous man; he has no fear of
rank or station or outward profession ; he is a very
plain talker and yet he knows how to rebuke with-
out giving offense — he must have a very clear con-
science of his own or he would not dare to talk in
this style."

But, in his ordinary life and when there was no
duty pressing upon him, he bubbled and sparkled
continually like a fountain, and having no fear of
death before his eyes — his faith never failing him —
through a long and painful illness he sustained and
comforted the household with bright and cheerful
talk to the very end.

As a specimen of his adroitness in managing
affairs, after the new and costly church in Elizabeth
was completed it was found that a debt of twenty
or thirty thousand dollars remained unpaid, and my
brother addressed a note to his wealthier parishion-
ers, asking them to meet on a certain evening and
see what could be done to free the church from en-
cumbrance, adding that any person who might be
unable to attend, would be assessed according to the
best discretion of those who might be present. The
next morning after the meeting he met his richest
parishioner on the sidewalk and said, "you were not
present with us last evening, but we assessed you."
"I presumed that you would do so from what you
said in your note. How much did you assess me?"
"Well, we talked you over pretty thoroughly, and
as you are our richest man, we all thought that ten
thousand dollars would not be an unfair proportion
to lay upon you." "That is absurd ; I will not give

1 86 REMINISCENCES.

such an amount as that." "What, then, are you
willing to give?" "I will give five thousand."
*'Very well, it is all right; that is just what we con-
cluded to assess you."

Again, to show his tact and readiness in an emer-
gency, at one of the sessions of the Diocesan Conven-
tion a venerable clergyman lost the thread of his
talk in the middle of his speech, and being unwilling
to sit down, hoping that he might recover himself
after a while, he stood in silence, until it seemed as
if the pause would be interminable. At last, while
everybody was suffering under the long suspense,
my brother rose in his place and, addressing the
Chair with great deliberation and solemnity, said :
" Mr. President, I trust that our reverend brother will
be allowed to proceed without any further interrup-
tion." This at once broke the spell and restored the
equilibrium to the embarrassed speaker and he went
on without any further trouble.

My brother was not in any sense a raco7iteur ; he
never repeated facetious anecdotes, or indulged in
ordinary witticisms, but he seemed, as it were, to be
charged with carbonic acid gas, which kept him foam-
ing all the time. This was so much a part of his
nature that it is hard to conceive of him as entirely
freed from humor even in another state of existence,
and if it is true, as an eminent Presbyterian minister
once said to me he believed it would prove to be, if
we were ever so happy as to find ourselves in
iieaven, we would probably be surprised to find the
Almighty so genial. Certainly there is nothing
derogatory to the character of our Heavenly Father
in such a supposition as this. It is hardly suppo^

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 18/

able that the element of incessant humor was im-
planted in our nature by the great Adversary of
souls.

I wish that the reminiscences of Bishop Wilmer
of Louisiana had been recorded — "We ne'er shall
look upon his like again." He could do and say
things with profit and impunity which no one else
would think of doing or saying. In visiting one of
his parishes he was told that the Roman Catholic
priest in the town, otherwise a worthy man and
capable of doing much good, was impairing his in-
fluence by the use of stimulants. At once Bishop
Wilmer waited upon the gentleman and said that
in the absence of his own bishop he had taken the
liberty to call and talk things over with him, and
before he left the heart of the good priest was
melted, and thanking the bishop for his kindness,
expressed his intention to profit by it. There are
not many of our bishops who would have ventured
to do that, or who could have done it to any good
purpose. On another occasion he wormed his
way into the confidence of Mr. Stewart, the great
New York merchant, in a most felicitous style, and
it was a rich treat to hear him describe the opera-
tion, as I once heard him tell the story at full
length.

While the General Convention was in session in
Boston, the bishop visited Providence on one of the
Sundays, and in an address gave us the following
narrative. "One morning last week I bought a few
articles in a shop on Washington Street in Boston,
and on my way in the afternoon to get the bundle
and pay the bill, I saw a boy on the Common whose

l88 REMINISCENCES.

looks I fancied, and it occurred to me that I might
as well send him to do the errand. Accordingly I
stopped the lad and said: 'Are you a good boy?'
After a little hesitation he replied, *No.' 'What do
you do, that is bad?' 'Why, I swear a little.'
'What else?' As the youth did not appear at that
moment to remember what his other failings were,
I asked him if he was honest? Upon the whole, the
boy appeared to think that he was honest. 'Well,
then, I am going to trust you with $io to pay a bill
for me in Washington Street,' — mentioning the name
and number of the shop — 'and you must bring back
the receipted bill and bundle to the Brunswick
Hotel as soon as you can, and here is half-a-dollar
to pay you for your trouble.' The boy started on
his errand, and when I told my friends at the hotel
what I had done, they said I had done a very foolish
thing, as nothing more would ever be seen of the
money or the bundles. In due time, however, the
boy returned, and when I looked at the bill, I
found that the charge was $10.50 instead of $10,
and I asked the boy how he managed to pay it in
full, as I had given him only $10 for this purpose,
and the reply was 'I took the half-dollar that you
gave me. I thought I could trust you for fifty
cents.' "

On a certain occasion when the bishop was in
imminent danger of foundering in a steamer in the
Mississippi River, it greatly disturbed his mind to
think that he might be lost in the waters and so be
deprived of the privilege of Christian burial. In
order to get relief on this point he retired to his
stateroom, and after adjusting himself properly at

A FEW NOTABLE MEN. 1 89

full length in his berth, he read the entire burial
service over his own remains, and was content.

It was a great comfort, after a long and dreary
debate, to see Bishop Wilmer quietly emerge from
his seat, and after having taken his usual place in
the center of the House of Bishops and adjusted
himself after his customary fashion, bring things to
a summary conclusion with a few quaint and irre-
sistible words, which no man in his senses would
ever venture to criticize. I wish that I felt at
liberty to give a few illustrations of this, but I am
told that it would not be "in good form " to do it.
It was a gloomy day for the House of Bishops when
Bishop Wilmer's light went out.

CHAPTER XVII.

MISCELLANIES.

I HAVE often found much pleasure and profit in
cultivating the acquaintance of persons representing
various forms of belief, and in this way have been
brought into agreeable relations with some of my
Roman Catholic brethren, as well as with many emi-
nent leaders in the Protestant churches. Not unfre-
quently the letters addressed to the " Bishop of
Providence" fall into my hands, and my correspond-
ence comes into his possession, and this opens the
way for material apologies and explanations.

My relations with the Roman Catholic Bishop of
Boston many years ago were very pleasant, and on
one occasion, at the close of a somewhat stately
dinner, after the guests had left the table, he said to
me: "Now let us go aside and talk over Church
matters." I told him that I was at his service, and
he began with asking "Why we called the body to
which I belonged a Church?" I replied, "Because
we have the primitive creeds, the primitive form of
government, and substantially a primitive liturgy."
"But, then, you have no fixed standard of faith and
no authority to enforce the faith. Bishop Mcllvaine
teaches one thing and Bishop De Lancey another;
how are you to know which is right?" "The opinions
of individual bishops are not of authority. If you

iqo

MISCELLANIES. I9I

wish to know what we believe, you will find it in the
Book of Common Prayer. And now let me ask,
what is your authoritative standard of faith?" "The
Church, of course." "Do you mean by this, the
decrees of the Council of Trent?" "No." "Do you
mean the decrees of the early General Councils?"
"No; the Church speaks through the Pope, and his
official decision is final." "But Moehler, your great
theologian, says that some of the Popes were very
bad men, and hell has long since swallowed them
up." "I am afraid it has; but you know well
enough that the final decree of an official is one
thing and his personal character another, and after
all these few bad men were no worse than the sur-
rounding circumstances were likely to make them.**
"I entirely agree with you in that. The Pope,
then, is final authority in matters of faith. Well,
a while ago you had a letter from the Pope, asking
your opinion as to the expediency of declaring the
doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin
Mary to be an article of the faith. I presume, there-
fore, that it is not so at present," "It is not." "If,
then, a gentleman should call upon you this evening
and ask whether he is bound to accept that doctrine
as a true Catholic, what would you tell him?" "I
should tell him that he is not so bound." "Now,
suppose that when the mail arrives to-morrow morn-
ing, you should receive another letter from the
Pope, stating that he had concluded to declare this
doctrine to be of the faith, and a second gentleman
should wait upon you in the evening and ask the
same question, what would you say?" "I should
tell him that it is an article of the faith." After he

192 REMINISCENCES.

had paused for a moment over this suggestion, which
seemed to make the great question of authority
rather a variable quantity, it being dependent upon
the arrival of the United States mail, he said : ''Let
us drop this general subject and talk about some-
thing a little more specific. Do you believe in the
real presence in the Holy Sacrament?" "Certainly
I do. The presence is either real or unreal, and an
unreal presence is no presence at all. I believe in a
real spiriUial presence." "But Christ says. This is
My body. This is My bloods "Suppose, then, that
Christ, instead of giving the bread and wine to His
disciples, had cut small pieces of flesh from His arm
for them to consume — in which case there would
have been no need of any act of transubstantia-
tion — can you tell me in what way they would have
been benefited by this? In other words, can you
inform me how a spiritual substance can be nour-
ished by a material substance?" All that the bishop
had to say in reply was that he had nothing to do
with the philosophy of the subject. So we went on
in a kindly way from one thing to another, and I
have nothing more to say, except that if I did
not convert him, he certainly said nothing to
convert me.

This recalls another interview, of a very different
character. During the session of the General Con-
vention in New York, four or five years ago, a
committee was appointed to confer with another
committee from the General Assembly of the Pres-
byterian Church on the restoration of Christian
unity. We met at the residence of Mr. Pierpont
Morgan, about ten or twelve persons in all, includ-

MISCELLANIES. I93

ing our own presiding bishop and the moderator of
the General Assembly, and passed a very delightful
evening. Nothing was said in a general way about
Christian unity, or anything else, but I had a nice
talk with the Princeton professor and gathered from
him in a private way that there was not much
prospect that the Presbyterian Church would relin-
quish its distinctive name in favor of the Historic
Episcopate any more than we are likely to modify
our standards of doctrine to accord with the West-
minster Confession of Faith. As the evening drew
to a close, our presiding bishop rose and with his
usual grace of manner said that while we might not
as yet be prepared to labor together, we could cer-
tainly pray together, and he would ask the Moder-
ator of the General Assembly to lead in prayer.
We all knelt down and the learned divine offered an
excellent and appropriate petition, and immediately
good Bishop Whipple, our apostle of love, of his
own motion made another extempore prayer, some-
what longer and more fervid than the former, closing
with the Lord's Prayer, in which we all joined, and
then Bishop Williams gave us the benediction of
peace. This was all very refreshing and in the
spirit of love and unity. A very satisfactory repast
awaited us in an adjoining room, and when I left I
saw our venerable Primate and the venerable Pres-
byterian Moderator joining in the calumet of peace,
so that in one sense the interview may be said to
have ended in smoke. It is a familiar saying,
Ex fiuno Iticcm, and so it may prove to be in
this case; but the general impression left upon
my mind was that the return of the Church to its

194 REMINISCENCES.

original unity is not to be brought about by official
conferences.

I have attended a great many public meetings in
the course of my life and delivered an indefinite num-
ber of orations and speeches, and do not hesitate to
say that, on two occasions, I gave great satisfaction.
Many years ago I had agreed to deliver the Fourth
of July oration in Providence, and it was an hour
or two past the time before the interminable proces-
sion reached the hall. There followed, as usual, a
series of introductory exercises, including a long
prayer, the reading of the Declaration of Indepen-
dence, and the customary assortment of tedious
music, and as it was an intensely hot day, before
my turn came the audience was thoroughly worn
out and weary, and longing to have the whole thing
over. With this feeling I was in most thorough
sympathy, and so after repeating the introduction
to my oration, which occupied some three or four
minutes, I told the people that I knew just how
they felt, and how much obliged they would be to
me if I would save them from listening to my
address, and as they would be able to read it the
next day in the newspapers, if they saw fit to do so,
I would not detain them any longer. The demon-
strations which followed showed that I had struck
the right chord.

My experience was somewhat different on the
second occasion, but the result equally satisfactory.
There was to be a great missionary meeting in New
York and four bishops were appointed to speak on
as many different subjects. The opening services
were not very long, and after they were closed the

MISCELLANIES. I95

first speaker, who was to address us on the African
mission, took the floor. His faculties appeared to
be in a somewhat chaotic condition, and he wandered
about the universe in a general way, alighting almost
everywhere except in Africa, to which, however, he
made a brief allusion before closing his speech, but
it seemed as if that close would never come. The
clock struck nine and the hands "crept on in petty
pace," as if they were doomed to do so, "to the last
syllable of recorded time." After the whole con-
gregation had been reduced to a state of utter des-
peration, it was my turn to come in and take up the
next topic; what it was I do not remember, inas-
much as the speech was never delivered. I rose
and simply said that as two other speakers were to
follow me, who, I felt sure, would have something
interesting to tell the people, I did not think that I
should be justified, at that late hour of the night, in
consuming the time which really belonged to them,
and so took my seat. This was the second occasion
in which I gave satisfaction.

I have just taken from the drawer a dingy old
manuscript, which has been lying there for more
than forty years, which I find by the dates in the
margin was delivered as a lyceum lecture on fifty
different occasions. It is entitled "The Next Fifty
Years," and is of the nature of a prediction. I will
give a few extracts from this ancient document,
reminding the reader that when it was written there
had been no scheme of a railroad to the Pacific, or
talk of the Pullman cars, or any of the modern
marvels of electricity. Some things which I fore-
told have not yet come to pass, but there still

196 REMINISCENCES.

remains nearly a decade for their fulfillment, while
innumerable other discoveries and inventions have
come to light which the wildest enthusiast could
not have dreamed of forty years ago.

This reading over for the first time of one's own
writings, produced scores of years ago, excites some
singular sensations. It may be difficult to identify
the work as your own. A lady once took one of the
old-fashioned Annuals from the shelf and showed
me an article with my name attached to it, which I
presume I must have written, as I was in the habit
of contributing to these ephemeral books, but if
the name had not been there I should never have
recognized the paper as my own. Many men of
marked ability have begun life with the publication
of works which they afterward were glad to suppress,
while others who wrote well from the start had to
wait for years before their merits were recognized.
Hawthorne, in speaking of his "Twice-told Tales,"
says "that these stories were published in maga-
zines and annuals, extending over a period of ten
or twelve years, and comprising the whole of the
writer's young manhood, without making (so far as
he has ever been aware) the slightest impression on
the public," and Dr. Holmes recently told me that
he was not much known until his "Breakfast Table
Talk" appeared in the Atlantic Monthly. Here and
there men are found in the clerical profession, like
Bishop Brooks and Dr. Alex. H. Vinton, and some
few others, who struck twelve in the beginning, and
went on striking twelve to the end. I began in a
small way many years ago, but it does not follow
that I have made much advance since.

MISCELLANIES. 197

The invertebrate character of the work in which
I am now engaged must be my apology for so often
sJinnting off upon some side-track, and I return to
the snuff-colored lecture lying before me. It begins
with saying that "The history of the next fifty years
is already determined by causes which have been
operating during the first half of the century, and if
we understand these causes thoroughly we could
tell what the world will be in the year 1900. Since
the clock of the Reformation struck the hour of
sunrise in the moral world there has been no national
change of creed, and no important alteration in the
comparative strength of different religions. No re-
spectable power has declared itself republican and
been able to maintain its freedom since the day
when our fathers signed the Declaration of Inde-
pendence. And still all wise men feel that we are
living in a critical period of history. Forces which
have been slowly gathering for centuries will soon
reach the point of explosion. One heavy jar of the
atmosphere and the clouds will break. The next
fifty years will have a history, and it will not be
the dull repetition of former history. The waters
will run in fresh channels. Elements of influence
will afflict society which have hitherto been faintly
recognized." Here I turn aside for a moment to
remark that the last time I saw Charles Sumner, he
predicted that in the course of ten years every mon-
archy in Europe would be overturned except that
of England, following me to the door, as I well recol-
lect, and saying with extreme earnestness: "Don't
forget the prophecy I have made to-night!" Mr.
Sumner has been dead for more than ten years, but

198 REMINISCENCES.

thus far France is the only country where his pre-
diction has come true. "Great men are not always
wise." — Job xxxii. 11.

Returning once more to my own attempts at
prophesy as recorded in the lyceum lecture, I said,
"We have made wonderful progress in traveling
facilities within half a century, such as the highest
scientific authorities declared to be utterly imprac-
ticable just before they went into operation. But
these improvements will not stop at the present
point. Posterity will not be content to travel at the
rate of thirty miles an hour, seated in these narrow
cars, stifled with dust and distracted by noise, some-
times blocked up by the snow and occasionally
pitched over a precipice into destruction. It costs
no great effort to imagine that there will be, fifty
years hence, splendid locomotive hotels, with spa-
cious parlors, dining-rooms, and dormitories, mov-
ing gently as the bird flies over a road, carpeted
with turf and bordered with shade trees and sweet
shrubs, heralding its approach with jubilant music,
instead of the hoarse screams which now make night
hideous — through from Boston to San Francisco in
six days." This prediction is not entirely fulfilled,
but it may be before long. Again, "The language of
telegraphic signs will be so improved that men will
communicate through the wire as rapidly as they
could by the tongue," but of course I never dreamed
that they would actually talk through the wire.
Once more : "This electric battery, which, in some
of our cities, sounds the alarm in our steeples, may
also be made at evening to light all the street lamps
at one flash, secure perfect uniformity of time in

MISCELLANIES. 1 99

all our public clocks, kindle the beacon light on
those dreary rocks in the sea, where human beings
now endure a melancholy and dangerous solitude —
Heavens only knows what it may not do !" Again :
"How difficult it sometimes is to make the ink flow
as fast as the thoughts! Now imagine the honored
gentleman, invited to address your association, sit-
ting down to prepare his lecture in the year 1900,
with the last improved Chirographical machine on
the table before him." Type-writer is a better
name, but it had not been thought of then. "He
opens the keyboard and begins to think. The order
of his discourse having been methodized, his facts
arranged, and his subject duly digested, the inspira-
tion comes upon him, and he lays his fingers pn the
ivory keys. Unconsciously as the accomplished
musician strikes the note, which the harmony and
melody require, does his hand sweep the Phono-
graphic scale, and fast as he can think are his concep-
tions transferred to paper." I find that I here used
a word which suggests to the mind Mr. Edison's
marvelous invention, but any one who could have
predicted the phonograph would have been compe-
tent to invent it. Bishop Brooks at one time kept
one of these phonographs in his study, and once told
me that on a Saturday evening, after he had finished
his sermon, he thought that he would rehearse it in
full to the phonograph, and the next morning,
before going to church, it occurred to him that he
would like to know how his sermon was going to
sound, and taking his seat at the table, for this
purpose, ground it all out again. The effect, as he
said, was most depressing, because the terrible

200 REMINISCENCES.

machine brought out into full relief all the coughing
and other disagreeable sounds that often accompany
preaching.

I will make but one further extract from my old
lecture: "During the coming fifty years, all branches
of science are destined to make immense advances;
observation, analysis, exploration, will bring to light
multitudes of new facts in every department of
nature. No one can foresee the vast improvements
that will be made in the instruments which the phil-
osophers will use in their experiments. Every
month some mechanical difficulty is overcome, and
he must be a foolish man who ventures at this date
to pronounce any physical problem insolvable." It
required no great amount of wisdom to say this, and
now my lecture must go back to the drawer,
where it has so long reposed, never to be disturbed
again, until it is laid with its numerous associates on
the funeral pyre. Before that comes, I will take
one final look at the other manuscripts of the same
sort which lie in the same drawer, and here is a list
of them, as they happen to lie: "Improvement and
Adornment of Cities;" "Laws of Periodic Rest;"
"The World Moves;" "The Seen and the Unseen;"
"Inventions of the Age;" "Analogy of Mechanics
and Morals;" "Washington and Military Arma-
ments;" "University Life;" "African Coloniza-
tion;" "Female Education;" "The Problem of
Evil;" "The Wars of Peru;" "Words Expressive of
Motion in Space;" "The National Crisis;" "Habits
of American Life;" "Tendencies of American
Thoughts;" "Life in Boston Two Hundred Years
Ago;" "Photographs of Europe, or, the Old World

MISCELLANIES. 20I

and the New;" "The Living Machine." The last
lecture was delivered 350 times. I have no record
of addresses, sermons, reviews, etc., which have
appeared in print. So far as I know, they have
"vanished into air — thin air," from whence most of
them came.

Nearly all the material improvements in our
domestic and social life, which characterize the age,
have come into being within my memory. They are
very familiar and a recapitulation of these changes
in detail would be dull reading. A few personal
reminiscences, however, may serve to give a little
freshness to a very trite subject.

During my college days the easiest and' shortest
way of getting from Boston to New Haven was to
take the five o'clock morning stage-coach to Provi-
dence, where we arrived about noonday, and were
transferred to one of the primitive steamboats that
plied on the Sound. I wish that one of these vessels
could have been preserved, so that the people who
have recently come upon the stage could see what, at
the time, we supposed to be the grandest maritime
structure that could be imagined. The next fore-
noon we took another steamer back to New
Haven, reaching the city toward night. The only
alternative was a three days drive over a rough
road, stopping over night at Worcester and
Hartford. The journey is now accomplished in
four hours.

I well remember the first box of the new matches
that I bought, with a little bottle in the bottom, in
which the match was to be dipped and suddenly
withdrawn, whether it ignited or not, as it might hap-

202 REMINISCENCES.

pen. I remember going to see the wonderful sight
of a hall lighted with gas — admission twenty-five
cents, and have read the petition of Mr. Horace
Binney and other distinguished citizens of Philadel-
phia, addressed to the city authorities, protesting
against the introduction of gas, as it would be almost
certain to breed pestilence, destroy vegetation, kill
the birds, and prove in various other ways to be a
nuisance. I can also recall the day when the first
load of anthracite coal made its appearance, and how
I carried home a few pieces to test them in the wal-
nut fire and see if they could really be made to burn,
and then how after a while the cheerful old wood
fires went out and much of the poetry of life went
out with them, or at least the material of poetry, for
even Browning could not sing of grates and registers
and furnaces and steam heaters as the old poets
used to sing of the hearthstone and the household
fires, and the cheerful evening blaze and the solemn
curfew.

Many years have passed since I went to the Tre-
mont House one morning to see a few strange pic-
tures on metal plates, sent over here for exhibition
from France by a Monsieur Daguerre, said to have
been made by the sun itself, rather faint and indis-
tinct but still indicating the dawn of a new and
most wonderful art. The introduction of water
into our houses reminds me of the cold mornings,
when I had to go out with my birch basin and break
the ice in a pond for water to wash with, and this
when I was only ten years old ; not, I would say, in
my own father's house, but at one of those awful
boarding schools, to which even Dickens has hardly

MISCELLANIES. 203

done full justice, for I could tell of horrors as great
as those which he describes.

It was a day of rejoicing when the first India-
rubber shoe appeared, clumsy and ugly enough, but
true solid rubber, and not a second-hand coating as
we have them now. All that we knew of India-
rubber before that was the two cent bits that are
bought at the stationers for the purpose of rubbing
out pencil marks, which I presume accounts for the
singular name given to this extraordinary substance.

The storing of ice for consumption in the summer
was another interesting event of the same period.
Mr. Tudor of Boston was the pioneer in the busi-
ness of exporting ice to other countries, and having
heard what I considered a very absurd story in con-
nection with this, I once asked him if there was any
foundation for it. He said that the facts were these :
"One summer he had a contract to supply some of
the West India Islands with ice, and on account of
the mildness of the winter the supply had failed.
One of his enterprising captains suggested the
thought of laying siege to some accessible iceberg
and transferring such portions of it as might be
needed to his vessel. Mr. Tudor told him that if
he saw fit to try the experiment he was welcome to
do so. Accordingly the captain started off, and after
sailing about for a while found a small berg, which
he thought would serve his purpose, and having
moored his vessel at the side, proceeded to transport
the blocks of ice to the hold. Everything went on
smoothly enough until one day when the iceberg
shifted its position, having lost its equilibrium in
consequence of the inroads by the ice cutters, lifting

204 REMINISCENCES.

the vessel a little out of the water as it went over,
but doing no great damage. After this the captain
took his position a little further off, and transferred
the remainder of the cargo in longboats. The adven-
ture did not prove to be very profitable, as the ice
turned out to be of little value.

Of the marvels which have come into being dur-
ing the present generation, I have very little to
say. Gunpowder, alas! has given way to dynamite;
whale oil and tallow to electricity; trees are made
into paper; horses superseded by dynamos — rail-
ways run underground and up in the air; a city
rivaling Athens in its outward splendor springs up in
a day and vanishes by fire in a night ; Niagara is
subsidized to furnish a new motive power; pins, and
screws, and horseshoes, and files, and watches, and
all sorts of fabrics manufacture themselves; clay is
converted into a magical metal, impervious to rust,
and light as wood ; coal-tar into perfumes and flavors
and aniline colors; a little box on the table will
talk and sing and give concerts and toll midnight
chimes ; flash lights brighten the horizon scores of
miles away; mean little torpedoes creep under the
water and send noble frigates flying in the air; the
most frightful operations in surgery are performed
while the patient is in elysium — gigantic presses
throw off the printed sheets as fast as the leaves
fall in autumn ; conversation goes on without regard
to distance in space ; sad and joyful messages are
all the while traveling with lightning speed across
the bottom of the ocean ; storms are predicted
before their time; farming is done by machinery;
columns of descending water are so directed as to

MISCELLANIES. 205

scatter the hills and reveal the precious gold hidden
there; suns and planets are analyzed; the photo-
graph brings stars to light, never looked upon
before ; the microscope shows us where our diseases
come from ; the telescope brings us almost within
hailing distance with the moon, and the end is not
yet.

CHAPTER XVIII.

BISHOP BROOKS.

I HAD no intimate acquaintance with Phillips
Brooks until the last six or eight years of his life,
but during this period his house has been to me as
a home, and the last words that I heard him say
were these: "Now solemnly promise that you will
never again go anywhere else to stay, when you
come to Boston, as long as you live." I little
thought that within a month from that time he
would have found his home in another world.
Many and many a time have I sat alone with him
"in the dead waste and middle of the night," which
he made full and bright with his instructive talk,
telling of the strange things he had seen in foreign
lands, his experiences in the remote regions of
India, his visits to the various missionary stations of
the English and American Churches — which, he said,
had impressed him most deeply with the conviction
of their importance and usefulness, discussing men
and books and church affairs — rarely, if ever, allud-
ing to himself personally, and never in any way
indicating that he had any consciousness of being
separate from his brethren, as a leader and com-
mander of the people. It was necessary to know
him somewhat intimately before he was inclined to
give free vent to his thoughts, and for this reason

206

BISHOP BROOKS. 20/

some persons regarded him as reserved and uncon-
genial. He was not a man whom it was easy to
praise to his face, but I have more than once said to
him that I did not think he deserved much credit
for what he did, because it seemed to cost him no
effort, and he could do spontaneously that which
would cost another man much toil and study. He
has told me, however, that he never liked to speak in
public unless he had some time for preparation, and
that while he wrote his sermons — if he did write
them — as rapidly as his pen could move, he was
accustomed to carry the sermon around with him in
his mind and brood over it for several days. So far
as the style of his composition was concerned, I
think it was entirely spontaneous and took care of
itself.

It was always a mystery how he could manage to
accomplish the vast amount of work that he did with
his pen, in view of the incessant interruptions to
which he was subjected. He made it a rule to
answer every letter that he received, let it come
from whatever quarter it might, and let the subject
be what it might — even all the begging letters which
poured in upon him like a flood — not always favor-
ably of course, if they had been there would not have
been much left for him to live upon. An elderly
Quaker in a Rhode Island village once showed
me a letter he had received from Bishop Brooks, in
reply to one that he had written asking for the
bishop's views as to the future state, in which the
writer was advised to do all that he could to prepare
himself for the next stage of existence, instead of
speculating about it. On the morning after his

2o8 REMINISCENCES.

election to the bishopric a single mail brought more
than a hundred letters, and I presume they were all
answered in the course of three or four days. From
morning till night, and sometimes late into the night,
his house was thronged with visitors, and he never
turned any one away, although at times he may have
resorted to innocent devices to abbreviate the visits
of those persons, who, when they are once seated,
appear to find it very difficult to get up again, and
sometimes continue until it seems to be impossible
that they should ever leave.

Bishop Brooks was a rigid judge of men, and some-
times expressed himself with great freedom in regard
to certain persons whom he regarded as unreal and
untrue, — defects of character for which he had little
forbearance, — while he spoke with great respect of
some of his brethren who had crossed his track, on
the ground that he believed in their sincerity and
could not deny them the same freedom of opinion
that he claimed for himself. In the midst of the
fiery battle that assailed him after his election in
Massachusetts, he said to me one day: "After all,
they have let me off pretty easily; as yet I have
never been charged with breaking either the sixth ^
or seventh or the eighth commandments." He
rarely alluded to the attacks made upon him in the
Church papers, some of which were very insolent ;
they "passed by him like the idle wind which he
esteemed not." Although he was not a regularly
trained ecclesiastical pugilist, he could hold his own
in an extremity, and it is easy to conceive of him as
talking to St. Peter very much as St. Paul did when
he thought he was to be blamed.

BISHOP BROOKS. 209

In all the details of life he was singularly scrupu-
lous, and never allowed any duty to be slighted or
deferred, however trifling it might be. Whatever
could be done to-day must not be put off till the
morrow. He never seemed to forget anything, and
was at the beck and call of everybody for every
sort of thing, and he was ready to do a great many
things which he was not under the slightest obliga-
tion to do. He was careful in regard to all the little
attentions that people expected of him, and never
inclined to transfer a disagreeable thing to others in
order to save himself trouble. Some years ago,
while he was abroad, I took his place in Trinity
Church on a Christmas day, and just before the hour
of service a message of Christmas greeting from the
rector to his congregation was handed in, dated
that morning in some remote Asiatic town. He
told me afterward that it was a genuine thing; find-
ing that he had the advantage of several hours on
account of the difference of longitude, he was up
early enough in the morning to send that message
by the wires to Boston in season for the service, and
it was accordingly read to the people before the
sermon. This certainly was a novel event in the
history of the world, and of course a few years ago
it would have been simply unbelievable.

The extraordinary hold he had upon the com-
munity was attributable to his personal qualities,
as well as his intellectual face. He might have
swayed the minds of men by his marvelous words,
but he could never have got the hold he had upon
their hearts if he had been nothing but a great
preacher. His influence reached all classes and con-

2IO REMINISCENCES.

ditions of men, and was as strong outside the pale
of the Church as it was within. It has been said by
one of the great writers of the age that "theology
is singularly tardy in its justice, and a fame locked
up in theology is scarcely more hopeful than an
estate locked up in chancery." This was not true
in the case of Phillips Brooks. In a letter received
from Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, dated March 31,
1893, referring to the text of the memorial sermon
that I preached at Cambridge soon after the bishop's
death, he writes: "In all the riches of the Scripture
treasury you could hardly find another so appro-
priate." This was the text, taken from the prophecy
of Jeremiah : "All ye that are about him, bemoan
him ; and all ye that know his name say, how is the
strong staff broken, and the beautiful rod !" Dr.
Holmes then goes on to say : *Tt was a very seri-
ous office to which you felt yourself called, for you
had to deal with a character which I believe is to
stand as the ideal minister of the American gospel,
which is the Old World gospel shaped — as all gospels
are by their interpreters — by the influences of our
American civilization. If now St. Gaudens will give
us a statue worthy of the great preacher and noble
man, our country type of a religious ideal will be
completed for the ages which are to follow us."
During the time of his great trial, when the ques-
tion was pending whether such a man as Phillips
Brooks was worthy to have a seat in the House of
Bishops, I was frequently at his house and in some-
what active correspondence with him, and although
he must have had his anxious hours, there was some-
thing wonderful in his calm serenity and faith

BISHOP BROOKS. 211

through it all, and the noble persistency with which
he always held me back from saying anything to
refute the charges of unsoundness in the faith
urged against him I have since learned to admire,
although I was restive under it at the time. On
the morning when the Massachusetts Convention
were to elect their bishop, I said to him that there
was little prospect of his having a majority of the
votes, and he replied that he had no doubt about it,
"but," he added, "if I am not elected this morning,
I am ready to go into the Convention this afternoon
and vote for the other candidate. Dr. Satterlee will
be entirely satisfactory to me." It may be that it
is a violation of confidence to mention this, but I
am impelled to do so because it shows how free
from anything like party prejudice the man was.

Phillips Brooks had a passion for city life, and liked
to be surrounded by his fellow-creatures and see
them in crowds, as he was accustomed to do, while
he took no great interest in country life. This
might have been because he had no experience of
such a life in his earlier years, and still he must have
been in very close sympathy with nature in all its
varied aspects, as may be seen in his abundant illus-
trations drawn from natural objects. When he was
in the country he liked to see things in their natural
state and did not care much for ornamental garden-
ing. As we were sitting one day on the piazza of
the old family mansion in North Andover, a profes-
sional artist made his appearance and began to com-
ment upon the rude condition of the grounds and
suggest what an improvement it would be to remove
this and that old tree and introduce flowers and

212 REMINISCENCES.

shrubbery here and there, and it was amusing to
see how resolutely the bishop resisted him step by
step, declaring that he preferred the old stumps and
the tangled bushes and everything else that was
old about the place to any of these modern improve-
ments, until the crushed man gave it up in despair
and retired. Phillips Brooks was certainly very con-
servative in this direction.*

It is as a preacher that Bishop Brooks holds the
most conspicuous place. I shrink from the attempt
to describe his preaching. It is as difficult to do
this as it would be to reproduce in words the varied
impressions made by the harmonies of a grand
orchestra. I was once asked to write a chapter for
a book and give "the bottom line" of his theology.
I would as soon think of trying to fathom the
bottom line of the ocean, or to analyze the highest
strata of the atmosphere. He was not a man to be
measured by any conventional rules. There is no
other preacher with whom he can be compared.
He copied no one, and no one could copy him to
advantage. Few preachers have ever drawn upon
themselves as persistently as he did ; and so some
have said that he was not a learned man, because
his sermons were so free from technicalities, and
so sparing in citations from the Fathers and other
ancient authors.

It is easy to say in what he was deficient. He
dealt little in the logical analysis of doctrines and

* The remainder of this article is taken from a discourse delivered
in Cambridge, soon after the death of Bishop Brooks, before the
officers and students of Harvard University and the Episcopal Theo-
logical School.

BISHOP BROOKS. 213

took no special interest in taking intricate dogmas
to pieces and then putting them skillfully together
again. There was not much of formal argument in
his discourse ; he could reason very ably when he
had occasion to do so, but in his ordinary preaching
he seemed to feel as if he had more important work
to do; he did not think that the kingdom of heaven
could be taken by logic. To all appearances, he was
not so much bent upon communicating his own
thoughts to others as he was in trying to kindle into
a blaze the latent sparks of good which he believed
existed in every man's heart.

He was not by any means what is popularly under-
stood by the term an eloquent speaker. He had
no arts of elocution, but rather trampled them
under foot — his great desire seeming to be just to
get his thoughts uttered and brought home to the
apprehension of his hearers; for which, however, he
hardly allowed sufificient time. He did attain that
at which eloquence aims — the rapt attention of
crowded congregations, the quick response of hearts,
which could not help vibrating with his heart, what-
ever key he struck — the rousing of dormant suscepti-
bilities, drowsy resolutions, exhausted spiritual
forces — unlocking doors in the soul which had long
been closed and which the man did not wish to have
opened, because of what might be revealed — con-
vincing men of sins which they had never fairly
apprehended before, and at the same time disclosing
to them capacities for good which had never been
quickened into action.

Some have thought that he was not, in the old-
fashioned sense of the term, a searching preacher.

214 REMINISCENCES.

However this may be, he certainly threw a flood of
light into recesses of the human heart that are not
often disclosed, bringing into terrible relief a multi-
tude of errors and weaknesses and dishonesties and
meannesses, of which little note is usually taken.
The building up from the beginning of a holy,
healthy, vigorous, well-balanced Christian character
was the great end at which he aimed. He once said
to me that he thought we had very defective views
of what salvation means. With him, it meant the
saving of the soul from sin, rather than deliverance
from the punishment of sin ; and in order to the
establishment of a wholesome Christian life, he
relied more upon a sound spiritual regimen than he
did upon the administration of medicine.

If Bishop Brooks did not dwell upon the terrors of
the law as fervidly as Jonathan Edwards was accus-
tomed to do, it was not because he shrank from
declaring the whole counsel of God. No one could
be bolder in denouncing the sins which are most
likely to be lost sight of and condoned, the sins of
which the persons he addressed were most likely to
be guilty. Every sermon seemed to have for its
object the awakening of some higher aspiration in
man, accompanied by the necessary extinguishment
of some debasing tendency. He may not have
occupied himself as much as some others in the por-
traiture of sin and its terrible results, it was his way
to exterminate the noxious weeds by such careful
culture and preoccupation of the soil as would leave
no room for the weeds to grow.

He dealt almost exclusively with positive truths,
and had little to say in the pulpit about heresies

BISHOP BROOKS. 21$

and biblical criticisms and disputed dogmas and
ecclesiastical expedients. He went directly to the
reason and conscience and hearts of those whom
he addressed, revealed them to themselves, making
them shudder at some things which were disclosed,
and long to find some way of escape. It was thus
that he preached Christ to them — not always per-
haps in the accredited form, but he brought the
Saviour close home to them, so that they could see
Him and feel the touch of His healing hand and
apprehend the power of His cross, in such a way as
to lead them to take up the cross and follow Him.
And all this time we could not help feeling that he
was not discharging a new official duty, repeating
something what had been prepared to order, but
that he was uttering himself, giving you the spon-
taneous impulses of his own being. How often I have
heard him say, "I love to preach I " and no wonder
that he did, the wonder with the listener was, where
all these thoughts came from; for there was such a
spontaneity in his utterance as to make it seem as if
he couldn't help himself. There was a profuseness
in the freedom with which he scattered his thoughts
and threw off his illustrations which seemed to be
almost wasteful.

It was often very difficult to guess what was com-
ing when he gave out his text, but as he went on he
would extract meanings from it and find suggestions
in it of which no one else would have dreamed ; and
yet, as he proceeded, the hearer felt as if these
suggestions were natural and obvious enough. It
hardly needs to be said that he presented few color-
less thoughts. He was not specially rhetorical, his

2l6 REMINISCENCES.

sermons were not overburdened with imagery — he
never dragged in an image for the sake of exhibiting
its beauty; but all that he said was iridescent, so
that his discourse, although it might not be distinctly
pictorial, left the vivid impression of a picture on
the mind. His illustrations were drawn almost en-
tirely from nature, rarely from history, hardly ever
from science, and never from the old patent stock of
figures which is such an unfailing resource to most of
us. For the drapery of his thoughts he found his
material in the ocean, with all its suggestions of
majesty and might — in the sky, with its ever-shut-
ting clouds and radiant sunsets — in the earth, with
its hills and valleys and silver streams and nestling
hamlets. Every sound in nature helped to give
some musical tone to his thoughts, — the thunder and
the storm, the sighing of the breeze, the singing of
the birds in spring-time, the rustle of the corn-field, —
all were to him God's symbols, God's language,
and he used them all to give life and freshness to
the mighty spiritual truths which he was called to
proclaim.

His teachings revolved invariably about this as
their center: "We are all God's children, and God
cares for all the creatures that He ever made, and
is waiting for those all to come to Him. He is
ready to receive them whenever they are willing to
return. He took upon Himself our nature and
appeared in the form of a man, in order to show us
what sort of a life we should lead, and He died upon
a cross to secure our salvation." This was, in a word,
the substance of his theology, and somehow he
managed to make it equally impressive whether he

BISHOP BROOKS. 21/

was addressing the rudest or the most cultivated
audience, whether he was preaching to the scholarly-
elect in Harvard or to the Sunday night grimy
crowds in some public hall. He never preached a
grander sermon than one that he delivered in Boston
years ago to a great mass of men and women,
gathered from the slums and all the dreariest parts
of the city, to hear what he had to tell them about
God. They must have felt, for once in their lives,
that there was someone in the universe who cared
for them.

If Bishop Brooks had been called upon to define
in a word the basis of his belief, he might have said,
"I believe that the life is the light of men, that the
final argument for Christianity is to be found in the
witness of our spirits to God's Spirit, the conformity
of the Gospel to our spiritual needs — our best and
highest instincts; and when we come to feel that we
cannot live to any good purpose except as we live in
Christ, that is enough — then we can say 'One thing
I know, that, whereas I was blind, now I see; the
light has come to me, and it could have come only
from a divine, superhuman source.' "

From the beginning, Phillips Brooks has stood as
the most conspicuous leader of what may properly
enough be called the experimental school of thought
— in other words, of a religion founded upon experi-
ence. He was an apostle of light and love and
liberty, and it was his great aim to bring men into
such actual sympathy with Christ as to make it
impossible that they should ever be disturbed by
any open or covert attacks of infidelity, any ques-
tionings of biblical criticism, or any false assump-

2l8 REMINISCENCES.

tions on the part of the proposed defenders of the
faith. He wished that men should know the truth
by experiencing the truth, which, as I have already
said, is what is meant by experimental religion ; and
that is the kind of religion which gets the strongest
hold upon the soul, and lifts it most effectually out
of the reach of heresy and unbelief.

The general impression left upon the mind by
his preaching was somewhat peculiar. There is a
style of preaching, with which we were once very
familiar, that seemed as it were to have the soil
burned over; it scorched the sinner, very possibly to
his advantage, just as the rank grass and stubble in
a field must be destroyed by fire before the ground
is fit to be plowed and sown. This, however, was
not his special mission. He did not wring the soul,
as our severer preachers were wont to do ; with him
" the consuming fire," of which we read as one of
the attributes of God, was the fire that burned out
the dross, purified the soul, and consumed the evil
that dwelt there. The feeling that impressed itself
upon the mind most forcibly, as we heard him
preach, was something like this : *' What a great
thing it is to exist ! What a grand thing existence
may be made ! What capacities for good I must
have which have never been developed ! How much
I must have lost ! I never knew before how much
I owe to God. I never felt before how much Jesus
has done for me. Is it too late for me to turn?
The preachers say that God is waiting for me. 1
will arise and go to my Father, and tell Him I have
sinned and ask Him to take me home." Thousands
upon thousands have felt all this, and it is only in

BISHOP BROOKS. 219

eternity that we shall know what the harvest is.
And he keeps on preaching in this fashion, now that
his body sleeps in silence, and multitudes of people
find in his sermons the food that nourishes them.
They do not go to these sermons for the solution of
critical difficulties, or the exposition of controverted
doctrines, or for information in Jewish history ; but
they go to be fed, to be built up in faith and love
and devotion and holiness, to find out what the
mean things are that are to be avoided, and what
the grand things are which are to be sought after —
they go there for their daily bread.

Bishop Brooks was not in any sense a partisan.
He could see the good in every system of theology,
if there was any good there, and also the bad, if
there happened to be anything bad there. It would
have been impossible for him to move within narrow
lines — in a road so narrow as not to allow room
enough to turn aside in order to allow one to pass
who happened to be going the other way. In his
view the value of truth was to be estimated by what
it could do for man. The nature of his mind was
such as led him to look upon forms and institutions
with reference to the spiritual work which they were
likely to accomplish. He loved the Church because
it was Christ's great instrument for the elevation of
humanity. He loved the Episcopal Church because
of its breadth and comprehensiveness, because of
its sedate and solemn services, because of its simple
and efficient discipline, because it rests *' upon the
foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus
Christ Himself being the chief corner-stone." His
views of the Christian ministry were, in the main,

220 REMINISCENCES.

those which prevailed in the earlier days of the
Anglican communion, and also, for the most part,
in the earlier days of the American Episcopate. He
believed in the Episcopal office, or he would never
have consented to assume the vows of the Episco-
pate ; he was too honest a man for that. It does
not follow that he believed in it on the ground
which some of his brethren regard as indispensable
to its existence. It is hardly conceivable that a
mind like his could have been very much absorbed
in certain matters of ritual and ceremonial which
have such a singular interest to minds differently
constituted.

This great man had all the tenderness of a child ;
there was no personal sacrifice that he was not ready
to make, no humblest office that he was not willing
to discharge whenever he saw that his services were
needed. I would want no gentler hand in sickness,
and no softer voice to soothe me in the hour of sor-
row. His heart and his hand and his house were
open to all, and into how many a humble dwelling
he brought light and comfort and peace ! The world
at large knew little of his work among the poor and
solitary. He has kindled the fire on many a cold
hearthstone, lighted the lamp in many a darkened
dwelling, clothed many a poor shivering child, and
poured oil and wine into many a bleeding soul. The
poor man cried when he heard that Phillips Brooks
had gone, and the desolate widow felt that there was
nothing left for her but God.

In speaking more directly of his religious charac-
ter, I am reminded that he would probably say there
is no such thing as separating one's Christian life

BISHOP BROOKS. 221

from the rest of his life ; which is, in a certain sense,
undoubtedly true. At the same time he would
allow that there are certain qualities in our lives
which are more distinctly religious than others.

He was a very transparent man, and you
could see through him without seeing anything to
offend your eye. As we were once conversing con-
fidentially in his study, the case of one of our clergy
was alluded to who had exposed himself to public
censure, when, after a momentary pause, he said
with a great deal of solemnity, " 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 ! " The man who could say that
must have always walked very close to God. I think
that his singular optimism and habitual cheerfulness
may be attributed in a great measure to his having
had from the beginning but little actual experience
of sin.

No one can tell what precise form his personal
relation to God assumes, but it is not probable that
he was ever called to undergo any of those severe
ordeals and terrible agonies of conscience which some
endure. It would rather seem as if he had left
himself in God's hands, without much concern as
to his own personal salvation, and given his thoughts
almost entirely to the salvation of others. His
devotion must have been instinctive, rather than
formal ; he needed no outward accessories in order
to find his way to God. There was not a tinge of
asceticism in his nature ; he was simply *' temperate
in all things," enjoying to the full all the good
things that God had provided for him in this world,

222 REMINISCENCES.

but never allowing anything to come between him
and the better things hereafter. His career was
one of unbroken prosperity from the first, rising
steadily higher and higher all the time — not the
sort of career that one might think would be favor-
able to the cultivation of some of the Christian
graces ; and yet these graces grew and flourished in
spite of all — the grace of humility, and unselfish-
ness, and unworldliness, and restfulness.

How many souls he has comforted ! How many
wandering sheep he has brought back to the fold !
How many perplexities he has relieved ! How
many souls he has lifted up into a purer and serener
atmosphere, and rescued from the contaminations
of the world and the flesh ! How many he must
have found waiting for him in Paradise !

And now his last word has been spoken, and he
sleeps in silence. Sleeps in silence, so far as our
apprehension goes, but he was never so living as
he is now. Such a man could not die. He has
only gone to some grander work in a higher sphere —
that is all.

** Death came unheralded, but it was well ;
For so thy Saviour bore
Kind witness thou wast meet at once to dwell
On His eternal shore ;
All warning spared,
For none He gives whose hearts are for prompt change
prepared."

THE END.

INDEX.

Advantages and disadvantages of
being educated in another com-
munion, 31
Alexander, Dr. Archibald, 24
Alexander, Professor Addison, 29
Altars, Stone, in Ohio, 130
Anarchy, Danger of, 150
Ancient and Honorable Artillery

Company, 105
Architecture, Church, in 1836, 40
Assistant to Bishop Eastburn, 97
Atkinson, Bishop, 134
iVtmosphere of Connecticut, Con-
servative, 108
Atwater, Professor Lyman H., 13
Authority, The ground of, 58

Bedell, Dr., 35
Bishops, Multiplication of, 45
Boston, Life in, 66 ; Return to, 93
Bristed, Rev. John, 181
Bristol, Prayer meetings in, 183
Brooks, Bishop, 206 ; Amount of
work accomplished by, 207 ; As a
preacher, 212 ; Election of, 211 ;
Memorial discourse, 216 ; Per-
sonal characteristics of, 209,
210, 211
Brotherhoods, 48
Brownell, Bishop, 109
Burgess, Rev. Dr. George, no
Bushnell, Dr. Horace, 116 ; Char-
acteristics of, 118 ; Versatility
of, 117
Butler, Dr. Clement M. , and Bishop
Eastburn, 97

Cambridge, Experience in, i6g
Ceremonial, Changes in, 41

Change of tone in the Church, 53

Chapman, Rev. Dr. George T.,
176

Chase, Bishop, 173 ; Character-
istics of, 174

Childhood, Impressions of, 3

Christ Church, Hartford, Rector
of, 120 ; Cradle of bishops, 120

Christian Unity, Committee on,
192

Church, Destiny of the, 64 ; In
Philadelphia, party lines in, 78

Church of the Advent, Boston. loi;
Bishop Eastburn's visit to, lOl

Clapp, John Milton, 12

Clark, Rev. Dr. George H., 143

Clark, Rev. Dr. Samuel A., 129 ;
Characteristics of, 186 ; Humor
and piety of, 185

Clergy, Social Relations and re-
strictions of, in Philadelphia, 77

Clerical contemporaries in Phila-
delphia, 80

Colenso, Bishop, 155

College life, 11

Conference, First Pan-Anglican,

153 .

Committee on Restoration of Chris-
tian Unity, 192

Confessional in our Church, 45

Connecticut, Four years in, 108

Contemporaries, Clerical, in Phila-
delphia, 80

Cradle of bishops, 120

Crises, Periodical, 150

Croswell, Rev. Dr. William, 74, 93

Daguerreotypes, First, 202
Davis, Bishop, 133

223

224

INDEX.

Day, President Jeremiah, 14
De Lancey, Bishop, 133
Destiny of the Church, 64
Diction, Changes in, 43
Diocese, Best mode of handling a,

123
Dioceses, Multiplication of, 45
Dives and the cautious divine, 19
Doctrines, Fundamental, unim-
paired, 53
Duchachet, Rev. Dr., 83

Early days, i

Eastburn, Bishop, 97 ; Anecdotes
of, 98, 99, 100 ; As a preacher,
102 ; Characteristics of, 99

Election to Bishopric of Rhode
Island, 120

Episcopal Charitable Society, Ser-
mon before, 105

Episcopal Church, in Princeton,
30; Rapid advance of, 32 ; Sixty
years ago, 32

Evangelical party, 57

Exchange of prisoners, 142, 148

Experience abroad, 160

Fasting Communion, 44
Fitch, Dr., 18
Forbes, Rev. Dr., 90
Fourth of July oration in Provi-
dence, 194
Fulham, Purple dinner at, 164

Gardiner, Dr., 34

General Convention in St. An-
drew's, Philadelphia, 89 ; at
Richmond, 124, 135

General Councils, Authority of,
156

Generations, Passing away of, 137

Golconda, Fate of the, 5

Goodrich, Professor, 17

Gray, Bishop, 155, 157

Grace Church, Boston, 73

Griswold, Bishop, 66, 67 ; Char-
acteristics of, 73 ; Death of, 73 ;
Habits in travel, 69 ; Sharpness
in rebuke, 70

Ground of authority, 58

Guilds and societies, 50, 51

Hallam, Rev. Dr., 177

Hare, Rev. Professor, 30

Hartford, Accepts a call to, 108 ;
Episcopal Church in, no

Hawks, Dr., 35 ; Arraignment and
defense of, 91

Highlands, Service in Scotch, 171

Hodge, Dr. Charles, 28

Hopkins, Bishop, 127 ; at Pan-
Anglican Conference, 154, 156

House of Bishops, 124

Interview with old Congregational

minister, 62
Inventions, Curious, 145
Ives, Bishop, Sermon at General

Convention, 90

Johns, Bishop, 133

Junior class ball in 1830, 14

Kemper, Bishop, 32, 133
Kenyon College, 173
King's Chapel of Boston, 74
Kingsley, Professor, 17
Kip, Bishop, 134 ; College life of,
14

Lafayette, Visit to, in 1823, 7

Lay, Bishop, 137

Lecture on " The next fifty years,"

Extracts from, 197
Lectures, Titles of, 200
Lee, Bishop Alfred, 134
Lee, Bishop H. W., 134, 175
Lee, General, Letter of, 139
Lincoln, President, 140 ; Conver-
sations with, 141, 142, 143
Literature of the Church, 37
Littlejohn, Rev. Dr., 124
Langley, Archbishop, 153, 154

Mansel, Dean, 167

Massachusetts Diocesan Conven-
tion, 1836, 66

Matches, First, 201

Material Improvements, 201

Mcllvaine, Bishop, 128 ; Chaplain
at West Point, 129 ; Writings
of, 129

Meade, Bishop, 125

INDEX.

225

Memorial Sermon, Bishop Brooks',
210, 212

Miller, Dr. Samuel, 25

Minister, Interview with old Con-
gregational, 62

Mission Priests, 48

Monroe, President, Reception of, 7

Morton, Rev. Dr., 80

Newton, Dr. Richard, 81

Next fifty years, Lecture on, 195

Odenheimer, Bishop, 82

Olmstead, Professor, 17

Otey, Bishop, 133

Outward aspect of the Church,

Changes in, 40
Oxford, Experience in, 170
Oxford Movement, Discussion of,

90

Pan-Anglican Conference, First,

153
Parker, Peter, 13
Parochial Missions, 49
Parties, Extinction of old, 56
Pastoral Letter, Committee on, in

1859. 135
Pastoral relation. Length of, 46
Philadelphia, Removal to, 77 ;

Prayer meetings in, 79
Polk, Bishop, 133 ; Death of,

149
Porter, Noah, ii
Potter, Bishop Alonzo, Election of,

87 ; Characteristics of, 88
Potter, Bishop Horatio, 134
Prayer Meetings, 79 ; in Bristol,

183
Princeton, Seminary life in, 20 ;

Teaching, 21
Private confession, 45
Puritanism, Reaction from, 32
Purple dinner at Fulham, 164
Purpose of biography, i

Quahog shell distinction in grave-
yard, 148
Quiet days, 49

Ramsay, Dean, 171

Reaction from Puritanism, 32
Removal to Rhode Island, I20 ;

To Philadelphia, 77
Retreats, 49
Reunion of bishops after the War,

136
Richmond, Rev. James Cook, 178 ;

Extract from sermon of, 180
Roman Catholic bishop of Boston,

190
Rome, Secessions of clergy to, 122
Routine of clerical life, Changes

in, 51

Salvation, Broader view of, 61
Sanitary commission, 138 ; Dis-
tinguished members of, 138
Schliemann, Dr., at Lambeth

Palace, 165
Seminary life in Princeton, 20
Sermon in Hyde Park, London,

160
Sersdces, Changes in, 41, 43
Shaw, Rev. Samuel B., 66
Silliman, Professor, 16
Sisterhoods, 48
Smith, Bishop, 134
Society for Propagation of the

Gospel, Sermon before, 160

Sparrow, Dr., on Bunker Hill, 106

St. Andrew's Church, Philadelphia,

30, 40 ; General convention in,

89 ; Prayer meetings in, 79 ;

Rector of, 77

St. George's Church, New York,

60 ; Societies in, 60
St. Lawrence Church, London, 158
St. Paul's Church, Boston, 75
St. Stephen's Church, Providence,

71

Statistics of diocese of Massa-
chusetts, 1836, 66; 1894, 66
Stone, Dr. John S., 75, 94
Style of preaching. Changes in, 54
Sumner, Charles, 197
Sunday in the olden time, 7
Sunday school. The ancient, 9
Sunday services at St. Andrew's,

Philadelphia, 80
Synod of Dort and Dr. Samuel
Miller, 27

226

INDEX.

Tait, Bishop, 165
Text-books at Princeton, 22
Thirl wall, Bishop, 157
Thompson, Archbishop, 166
Titles of lectures, 200
Town, The old maritime, 5
Tribute, Poetical, to Dr. Wash-
burn, 115
Trinity Church, Boston, 75, 97
Tyng, Dr., 68, 70, 129 ; Anecdotes
of, 84, 85, 87

Vinton, Dr. Alexander H. , 94 ;

Characteristics of, 95, 96
Vows, Perpetual, 49

Wain Wright, Dr., 75
War, The late, 138
War hospital on Narragansett Bay,
147

Washburn, Dr. E. A., m ; Re-
fused ordination by Bishop
Eastburn, 112 ; Preaching of,
114 : Poetical tribute to, 115

Wealth, Dangers of, 150

Webster, Daniel, 36

Wells, Rev. E. M. P., 93

Whitehouse, Bishop, 155

Whitfield and Cornelius Winter, i

Whittingham, Bishop, 130 ; Char-
acteristics of, 131

Wilberforce, Bishop, 157, 163 ;
Private traits of, 167, 168

Wilmer, Bishop, 187 ; Reads
burial service over himself, 188

Winchester Cathedral, Preaches
in, 162

Woonsocket, 222

Yale College in 1827, 11

York, Missionary meeting in, 169

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