FROM THE LIBRARY OF 
 REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. 
 
 BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF 
 
 PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 
 
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Wednesday, June 19 
 
 170 DAYS PAST I95 jO COME 
 
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LIFE 
 
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 DEC 1 1931 
 
 EDWIN H. CHAPIN, D.D. 
 
 BY 
 
 SUMNER ELLIS, D.D. 
 
 "His words seemed oracles 
 That pierced their bosoms ; and each man would turn 
 And gaze in wonder on his neighbor's face, 
 That with like dumb wonder answered him. 
 
 You could have heard 
 The beating of your pulses while he spoke." 
 
 amitfj portraits anJ JUlustratwins. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 UNIVERSALIST PUBLISHING HOUSE. 
 
 1882. 
 
Copyright, 1882, 
 By Universalist Publishing House. 
 
 University Press: 
 John Wilson and Son, CAMimiDCE. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Dk. Chapin having left no record of his life, not 
 even letters or notices of the press, and there bemg 
 scarcely a reference to himself m his published works, 
 the materials for this volume had to be gathered very 
 largely from original sources, and the labor has been 
 much greater than was expected when it was under- 
 taken. A large reliance for facts was naturally placed 
 upon Mrs. Chapin ; but, while on the way to obtain 
 these, the news of her sudden death was received. It 
 is believed, however, that the leading facts in the life 
 of this truly great man and almost peerless orator will 
 be found in the following pages ; and the author de- 
 sires to return thanks to the many friends who have 
 kindly aided him in his work. 
 
 S. E. 
 
 Cambridge, Mass., 
 
 Sept. 1, 1882. 
 
OOISTTE^TS. 
 
 ?AGE 
 
 I. Ancestry 7 
 
 11. Boyhood ■ . , . 16 
 
 III. Schooldays 25 
 
 IV. Life at Tkoy 39 
 
 V. Life at Utica 46 
 
 VI. Settlement in Richmond 64 
 
 VII. Ministry in Chablestown 79 
 
 VIII. Ministry in Boston 107 
 
 IX. Ministry in New York 115 
 
 X. Pigeon Cove 158 
 
 XI. The Funeral 173 
 
 XII. The Triumphs of Eloquence 189 
 
 XIII. Oratorical Resources 216 
 
 XIV. Sermons and Lectures 233 
 
 XV. His Universalism 254 
 
 XVI. The Chapin Home 269 
 
 XVII. An Odd-Fellow 274 
 
 XVIII. A Reformer 285 
 
 XIX. Wayside Humanities 292 
 
 XX. His Poetry 305 
 
 XXI. His Wit .' 320 
 
 XXII. His Library 326 
 
Hist of JUlustrattons, 
 
 Portrait Frontispiece 
 
 Church at New York 115 
 
 Portrait 130 
 
 Cottage at Pigeon Cove 158 
 
 Fac-similes of Handwriting 233 
 
LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIK 
 
 I. 
 
 ANCESTEY. 
 
 In the eighth generation of American Chapins stood 
 Edwin Hubbell Chapin, the subject of this biography. 
 Himself a " believer in ancestry and in the feeling it 
 kindles," and referring with pride to the tradition that 
 a " drop of the blood of the Black Douglas, the Scottish 
 Knight ' without fear and without reproach,' ran in his 
 veins," it will not be a misplaced act if we turn our 
 attention briefly to the generations which have preceded 
 him, from whom he derived his eminent gifts. 
 
 Near the middle of the seventeenth century Deacon 
 Samuel Chapin sailed from England and landed on our 
 shores, stopped for a time with " ye godly people of 
 Dorchester," and then moved, in 1642, to Springfield, 
 Massachusetts, at that time the most western outpost of 
 the New England colonists. "With more courage than 
 discretion, it may be, he dared the awakened hostility 
 of the Indians, — a hostility which made it fitly the 
 last office of the household, before retiring at night, 
 to examine the flint on the gun and offer a fervent 
 prayer for protection, — and wandered into the unpro- 
 tected wilderness. 
 
8 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The heroic Deacon was a good Puritan. In him were 
 combined a sound judgment, a fervent piety, a tender 
 humanity, and a rare gift of enterprise ; and, with his 
 noted contemporaries, Pynchon and Holyoke, he did 
 much to give character and prosperity to the new set- 
 tlement. He was early appointed one of the magistrates 
 of the town, and not long after his appointment " his 
 commission was extended indefinitely." In the absence 
 of the minister of the pioneer church, or in the interim 
 between pastorates, he exercised his talent of exhor- 
 tation on the Lord's Day to the edification of the 
 people, and was declared to be " exceeding moving in 
 prayer." In November of 1665 it was voted in town- 
 meeting " to allow Deacon Wright, Deacon Chapin, Mr. 
 Holyoke, and Henry Burt £12 for their past services 
 in the Lord's work on the Sabbath, to be distributed by 
 the selectmen ; and that in future they would allow at 
 the rate of £ 50 a year, till such time as they should 
 have a settled minister." 
 
 To Deacon Samuel Chapin was born, in 1642, Japhet, 
 the eldest of his children. In Japhet reappeared the 
 manly traits of his father — a sterling integrity, an ar- 
 dent piety, a ready kindliness of heart, intrepid courage, 
 and a rare thrift in business ; but there came to him, as 
 there did not to his father, a call to put his courage to 
 the most practical test. Obeying the summons of an 
 imperilled people, who talked by day and dreamed by 
 night of the horrors of massacre, he took up arms 
 against the invading Indians. On the fly-leaf of an old 
 account-book he informs us, in an interesting bit of 
 autobiography, that he took part in the great fight at 
 Turner's Falls. " I went out volanteare against mgeus 
 
ANCESTRY. 
 
 the 17th of May, 1676, and we ingaged batel the 19th of 
 May in the moaning before sunrise, and made great Spoil 
 upon the enemy, and came off the same day with the 
 Los of 37 men and Captin Turner; and came home the 
 20th of May." But in spite of his brave fighting thus 
 for the safety of his family, his beloved daughter Han- 
 nah, three months after her marriage, w^as taken captive 
 and borne into Canada. Holding firmly to the Puritan 
 faith, striving with the hardships of a new settlement, 
 steadily facing the terror begotten by the grim children 
 of the forest, it is not to be wondered at that a visible 
 shadow rested over his hardy spirit. Of his father's 
 death he pathetically recorded that " he was taken out 
 of this troublesome world." In the path along which 
 his own feet walked, he " saw more of thorns than of 
 flowers." But when he finally fell asleep, "Rev. Mr. 
 Williams, of Deerfield, wrote a lengthy letter to his 
 children, instructing them concerning the improvements 
 they should make of his death, and speaking of him as 
 having been a man of great piety." 
 
 To Japhet was born Thomas ; and to Thomas, Thomas 
 junior; and to Thomas junior, Elijah; and to Elijah, 
 Perez, who was the grandfather of Edwin Hubbell. 
 Through these generations the stream of life flowed in 
 a manner characteristic of its source. Perez was a 
 doctor of excellent skill ; and very nearly on the hun- 
 dredth anniversary of the engagement with the Indians 
 at Turner's Falls, in which Japhet did valiant service, 
 he was found in the thick of the battle at Bunker Hill, 
 plying his surgical art for the comfort and security of 
 the wounded. A graduate of Middlebury College, Ver- 
 mont, he spent many years in practice, and died at 
 Benson in that State. 
 
10 LIFE OF EDWIN II. CHAPIN. 
 
 To Perez was born Alpheus, the father of Edwin. In 
 him the ideal Puritan appears somewhat modified. If 
 the shadow of the past fell on him from behind, the 
 cheery light of a new era shone m his face. He came 
 upon the stage just at the time when the stern dignity 
 of the earlier day was passing into the mellower and 
 sw^eeter ripeness of the modern life ; and in him we find 
 an early fruit of the approaching harvest. He was a 
 man eminent for wit and social graces, an excellent 
 musician, with a special love of the anti-Puritan fiddle, 
 an admirer and a student of the beautiful, and by pro- 
 fession an artist — a painter of ideal scenes for his per- 
 sonal delight, and of portraits for his daily bread. These 
 are indeed new features in the Chapin portrait, but the 
 old traits are by no means wanting. Into him an 
 Apollo seems to have descended to keep company with 
 the God of his fathers ; and we mark those sharp con- 
 trasts of sentiment and expression, of gravity and mirth, 
 of prose and poetry, of prayer and story, which were 
 still more marked in his eminent son. In the parlor 
 of a friend he was a fascinating guest, a conversationist 
 of rare merits, happily seasoning good sense with pleas- 
 antry, and stimulating free expression in others by a 
 genuine modesty in himself. So captivating were his 
 gifts that, in the space of two or three weeks from their 
 first meeting, he had won the heart of Miss Beulah 
 Hubbell, one of the fair and talented young ladies of 
 Bennington, Vermont, consummated the period of court- 
 ship, married her, and carried her away from the town, 
 to be his companion and inspirer as he rambled from 
 place to place in the pursuit of his art. " I never saw 
 such company as grandpa was," says one of his grand- 
 
ANCESTRY. U 
 
 daughters ; " he played the violin to please us, told us 
 funny stories, extemporized enchanting romances with 
 his ready imagination, and made himself one of us. It 
 was such a delight to go and see him ! " To have sat 
 by his easel for a portrait, while he spun his rare tissues 
 of sense knd nonsense, must have been an entertain- 
 ment, and set the face into the best aspect for being 
 transferred to canvas. 
 
 AVhatever he did was done ardently. With a com- 
 mon enthusiasm he entered into a debate or told a story, 
 painted a picture or worshipped his Maker, and at all 
 times and in all places he was a magnetic presence. 
 His portraits, many of which are still preserved and 
 cherished, are hasty sketches, strong m likeness but 
 deficient in finish. It was a theory with him, born no 
 doubt of his temperament, that too much attention to 
 detail, by the artist, not only imperils the truthfulness 
 of a likeness, but weakens its effect on the beholder. 
 To finish he would not sacrifice force ; and his portraits, 
 strong but rough, indicate plainly that his hand was 
 withdrawn too soon from the process of his art. On 
 one occasion, while painting the picture of a weary and 
 worn-out soldier of the American Eevolution, the old 
 hero, roused under the memories of the hour, erected 
 himself into the attitude of a field-marshal, and ex- 
 claimed, "Put in some of the fire of '76 !" We need 
 not doubt the artist's success in answering the order. 
 His ideal scenes are more carefully and fondly worked 
 up, and two or three of his Madonnas are at least indi- 
 cative of a latent patience in his hasty hand. His most 
 ambitious pieces are " Christ Eaising Lazarus," which 
 brings in a group of over forty figures on a canvas of 
 
12 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 vast proportions, and " Christ Healing the Sick," which 
 was put on exhibition in Boston at a ninepence for each 
 admission. On the whole, it is evident that Mr. Gha- 
 pin's genius as an artist was greatly superior to his 
 culture. 
 
 In the course of time he fell under the fervid minis- 
 try of the elder Beecher, and his devotions at once 
 assumed an unaccustomed heat and zeal. The soul of 
 Deacon Samuel Chapin, of the colonial church, seemed 
 to reappear in his distant son. Having laid by his 
 brush and passed into the filial charge of his son, who 
 was already rising in fame, the old man now found no 
 check on the open and to him inviting path to the altar. 
 He became a familiar presence in the evangelical prayer- 
 meetings of Boston. The ardor of a revival matched 
 well his aroused spirit, and in prayer and song his voice 
 was raised to a fervent key. At all hours of the day 
 and the night he sought the shrine of worship. " When 
 he should have been in bed, he was often on his knees 
 in prayer," is the testimony of his widow, the second 
 wife, who still survives him. The cheerfulness, so con- 
 spicuous in his earlier days, seemed to disappear from 
 many of his later hours. Feeling deeply by contrast 
 the infirmities of age, incapable of toil yet dependent, 
 and sharing a piety not so hopeful as that of the Church 
 of to-day, he fell into frequent sombre moods ; and on 
 the fourth day of March, 1870, at his home in Boston, 
 he exchanged his earthly for his heavenly estate. In 
 the last hour he was solaced by the sympathy of his 
 devoted wife, and the affection and prayers of his bril- 
 liant son and benefactor. From the Central Church, of 
 which he had been for several years a member, his body 
 was carried to its final rest. 
 
ANCESTRY. 13 
 
 In the Chapin family, thus briefly noticed, the senti- 
 ment of religion was a marived trait ; and as early as 
 the year 1862 there had arisen among the offspring of 
 Deacon Samuel Chapin not less than twenty-five clergy- 
 men bearing the family name, and as many more, no 
 doubt, who bore the names taken by the daughters of 
 the successive generations. Piety and eloquence were 
 characteristic of the race; and it would not be easy 
 to estimate the harvest of faith and virtue which has 
 been reaped in our land, during two hundred and more 
 years, from seed sown and cultivated by the hands of 
 this group of toilers in the Master's Vineyard. 
 
 In the direct line of descent from Samuel to Edwin 
 Hubbell Chapin the flesh appears to have been an ade- 
 quate vehicle of the spirit. In tlie respective ages of 
 the eight generations the stamina of the stock is well 
 indicated. The number of the years of Samuel is not 
 told in the "Chapin Genealogy," from which many 
 of the foregoing facts have been derived, but he lived 
 to a good old age. Not less than fourscore winters and 
 summers had he seen before he was summoned from 
 the earth. Japhet lived threescore and ten years. 
 Thomas filled the measure of fourscore and five years ; 
 and Thomas junior, by a single year, overstepped this 
 wide limit. The years of Elijah were eighty-seven ; of 
 Perez, eighty-six ; of Alpheus, eighty -two ; and of Ed- 
 win Hubl)ell, sixty-six. But while the latter failed 
 thus to follow the law of his family, and fill the mould 
 of tune for which he was evidently intended, there is no 
 doubt that in the higher estimate of life as a succession 
 of vital states — ideas, sentiments, achievements — he 
 surpassed them all, for his was a nature that bred 
 
14 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 life with a signal rapidity and volume. He crowded 
 into the hours and days and years a marvellous wealth 
 of thought and feeling and activity. Like a wild 
 mountain stream the vital current fairly rushed and 
 roared as it passed through his being, and was the 
 sooner spent. Apart from the fact that he was im- 
 provident of his energies and careless of the laws of 
 health, it could hardly have been otherwise than that the 
 vast fires in the livmg engine, and the rush of the over- 
 heated machine, should tell on its durability. " To live 
 long it is necessary to live slowly," said Cicero ; but to 
 live slowly was not in the power of Dr. Chapin. 
 
 Not wholly an inheritance from the Chapms was the 
 ffenius of this remarkable man. To his mother, and the 
 generations of the Hubbells, he was indebted for some 
 of the strongest and finest traits of his life. The record 
 of the Hubbell family in America — reaching from Eich- 
 ard, who came here from England about the year 1650, 
 to the present time — is one which reflects on it great 
 honor. A numerous progeny, it has been as marked 
 for worth and achievements as for numbers. To the 
 " first of the name in America " a descendant has paid a 
 grateful tribute in verse, in which the family type is 
 made to appear. 
 
 " Thou, fiir across Atlanta's surging breast, 
 Mad'st liere tliy home, loved, honored, blest ; 
 Here reared brave hearts, concordant with thine own, 
 Taught them to hate a tyrant and despise a throne ; 
 A race with iron wills and iron laws. 
 Firm as the granite hills in Freedom's cause ; 
 Stern as the Koman who condemned his son ; 
 Unchanging as those laws cut deep in stone ; 
 With stalwart physique, rough, yet not uncouth, 
 Surcharged with love of God and Man and Truth." 
 
ANCESTRY. 15 
 
 From their first liome in Connecticut, the HuLbells 
 have wandered abroad and made homes in most of the 
 States of the Union. The poet, whose words have just 
 been read, refers to Eichard Hubbell as the " sire of a 
 thousand sons." But wherever they have settled, mteg- 
 rity, industry, thrift, and honor have attended them to a 
 large degree. In all our wars they have been among 
 our bravest soldiers ; in the professions, they have risen 
 to eminence ; in positions of public trust, from humble 
 offices to membership in Congress, their skill and 
 worth have been placed at the service of the people. 
 From such a race E. H. Chapin drew some of the blood 
 that made him what he was in the vigor and strength 
 of his manhood. 
 
II. 
 
 BOYHOOD. 
 
 Apart from a fond father and mother and the se- 
 chision of a fireside, a boy needs many things, and 
 especially these two, — a fixed habitation in city or 
 country (better the latter) to supply the sweet ro- 
 mances of memory to after-life, and a steady schooling 
 iinder the same teachers to give an early solidity and 
 system to the mind. As we look back from the distant 
 reaches and altitudes of our mortal journey, the scenes 
 made familiar to our early years are delicious enchant- 
 ments, of which no life should be deprived ; while the 
 timely discipline of our first schooldays strangely fash- 
 ions the plastic mind into the mould of order and prom- 
 ise. From the haunts amid which is seated the old 
 home, and from the old schoolhouse, whether in city 
 or country, there moves forth with us, on whatever 
 road we may travel, some of the best companionships 
 of life, — memories and guiding influences which every 
 one needs. Ikit in these important particulars the lad, 
 Edwin Chapin, was among the most unfortunate. Ex- 
 cept in the love and care of his parents he had no early 
 home. 
 
 A wandering artist, roving from hamlet to hamlet 
 and city to city in quest of faces to paint on his waiting 
 
BOYHOOD. 17 
 
 squares of canvas, his father kept the little group on 
 the move. No Arabian tribe was ever more given to 
 shifting its encampments. It was a life of arrivals and 
 departures, w4th hotels and boarding-houses for tempo- 
 rary quarters. " For months together we did not know 
 where the Chapins were," writes a venerable relative of 
 the family ; " and when at length the mother and Edwin 
 would surprise us, as they often did, by returning to 
 the old home, the first inquiry would be : From what 
 city or town have you come ? " 
 
 As the environment of childhood, the scenery of his 
 early life does not make a pleasing picture. An impul- 
 sive and versatile boy, needing most of all repression 
 and drill, the aid of fixed conditions and regular habits, 
 he was kept in the constant whirl of events, hurried 
 from scene to scene, drawn into the distracting meshes 
 of diversity and novelty, until his gift of order and 
 patient application, never equal to his gift of sponta- 
 neity, had suffered serious damage. The habit of the 
 systematic student is largely an inheritance from a 
 very early discipline. " As the twig is bent the tree's 
 inclined ; " so is the grown mind in debt to its early 
 direction, and the aid of the primary school cannot 
 well be spared. But until his fifteenth or sixteenth 
 year Edwin Chapin knew little or nothing of method- 
 ical and scholarly mental action. Through following 
 the family tent, never pitched long in one place, his 
 tuition was necessarily intermittent and desultory. It 
 was under strange teachers and with unknown children, 
 in a round of cities and villages extending from Wash- 
 ington to the Canada line, that he found a seat in 
 the schoolroom, — and then only for a few weeks or 
 
 2 
 
18 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 months at a time, according to the demand of the 
 special locality on his father's brush. In this method 
 of schooling the interims of absence were broader than 
 the periods of attendance ; and the remarkable boy, 
 who needed so much to have his wild and spontaneous 
 power brought mto subjection to the text-book and the 
 tutor, was daily passing into a brilliant disorder, a 
 romantic chaos of ideas and interests, a habitual va- 
 grancy of mind, which it would not be easy henceforth 
 to subdue. Even though seconded by the lessons his 
 mother fondly unposed on limi as they journeyed, such 
 intermittent tutorage but poorly foiled the effects of a 
 wandermg life, and an ardent spontaneity was becoming 
 the habit of the boy's study and thought. 
 
 At length, when Edwin was eleven or twelve years 
 old, the roving artist came to a halt in Boston, and over 
 the family was spread a home roof. In an uninviting 
 part of the city, at the head of Sudbury Street, near 
 Court Street, the Chapins took up their residence. 
 Two sisters, Ellen and Martha, had now been added to 
 the family circle, the former of whom is its only surviv- 
 ing representative. The gifted brother w^as now to be 
 seen, not making his daily morning run to a school- 
 house, but to a broker's office. As an errand boy he 
 entered into the service of Aaron Dana, on State Street, 
 then as now the haunt of the money-changers and spec- 
 ulators ; and here, though still a mere lad, he must have 
 gained some of the views and impressions of business 
 life, which in after years were flashed from his teeming 
 brain as he discoursed to eager throngs of the " Phases 
 of City Life," and of " Humanity in the City." 
 
 But into the dryest details this romantic boy could 
 
BOYHOOD. 19 
 
 but infuse some fresli interest. If flowers had not been 
 planted in bis path, by the magic of his native genius 
 he could create them. In the midst of these dry scenes, 
 there was at least one fresh souL The lad burst into 
 poetry. Having swept the dingy Hoor, dusted the desks, 
 run here and there with papers and verbal messages, 
 gazed in wonder at the world around him, and given a 
 ready ear to every story and each better word which 
 was uttered, he still found time to make and recite 
 rhymes on the most various themes. His usual auditor 
 was the boy in the office overhead. Calling him to 
 the window to hsten, young Edwin, with upturned 
 face, would dehver from the sidewalk his hasty effu- 
 sion. In this juvenile diversion he doubtless reached 
 some higher pleasure than the charm of the mated 
 words at the ends of the lines, even the deeper stir of 
 a poetic instinct. Pressing his little poem by his native 
 eloquence into the heart of the boy upstairs, and then 
 throwing it into the waste-basket, we can well imagine 
 the zest with which he would seek another theme and 
 create another ephemeral rhyme. 
 
 With the boys of the West End, his rare and unsel- 
 fish gifts, his wit, his ardor, his honor, his power to 
 kindle them into a happy enthusiasm, made him a 
 favorite ; and, when thirteen or fourteen years old, they 
 elected him a member of their dramatic club, and at 
 once promoted him to the conspicuous rank of poet and 
 buffoon of the aspiring group. With an ambition char- 
 acteristic of boys, this club had taken to itself its name, 
 Siddoriian, from the celebrated Mrs. Siddons of Eng- 
 lish fame ; and it held its first meetings in a carpenter's 
 shop on Pine Street; but some trouble having arisen 
 
20 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 witli their lessee, to whom they paid a mere pittance, 
 they decamped in the night time with their theatrical 
 effects, and moved into a hall in the Circular Build- 
 ing on Portland Street. For a couple of years, at 
 least, they were accustomed to meet in this place for 
 discipline and pleasure. Here they enacted tragedy 
 and comedy from Shakespeare's "Julius Coesar" to 
 Sheridan's " School for Scandal," with the accompani- 
 ments of song and recitation and feasting. As would 
 be natural with boys, the pastime phase of their club 
 life was made prominent. Begging or borrowing a few 
 dishes and cooking utensils, the juvenile histrions made 
 for themselves banquets ; and now and then they turned 
 themselves into a sort of gypsy camp, and marched out 
 to Brighton, to a spot known as the Cave, and pitched 
 their rude tent for the night, and cooked their supper 
 and breakfast. Amid these hilarious scenes young 
 Chapin found the keenest delight, and rose to an easy 
 ascendency through the exuberance of his wit and 
 mirth. 
 
 But in this Siddonian Company there was also a spirit 
 of ambition and toil in the direction of the histrionic art. 
 No idlers at their tasks were some of these boys, since 
 they were stagestruck in no ordinary degree ; and from 
 their sports they turned with a yet keener relish to the 
 performance of their parts on the stage. There was real 
 genius among them ; and genius passing into its own 
 sphere of action supplies the supreme delights of life. 
 From carnal feasting it turns to its ow^n greater feasts 
 of inspiration and achievement. Thus among these 
 Siddonians there were those who were feeling the 
 first raptures of their awakening dramatic gifts ; even 
 
BOYHOOD. 21 
 
 with a wild delight that must have lingered in their 
 nightly dreams, they grew conscious of a power to 
 sway the friendly audiences that gathered from time 
 to time in their dingy hall ; and, as a result, the stage 
 became their first love, and the theatre the scene of 
 their lifelong toils and triumphs. In this little group 
 of aspirants we find the two comedians, Charles H. 
 Eaton and John P. Addams, who were for many years 
 favorites with the Boston playgoers ; and here stood in 
 conspicuous superiority the youthful E. L. Davenport, 
 who afterwards became famous in two hemispheres as 
 a delineator of tragedy, and who has left to the honor 
 of the stage and its higli art, not only a brilliant his- 
 tory, but his eminent daughter, Miss Fanny Davenport, 
 who, as a tragedienne, has risen to a high rank among 
 the daughters of America. 
 
 Between the two lads, Davenport and Chapin, a 
 friendship sprung up that the flying years only con- 
 firmed. In their lives was a kinship of genius that 
 awakened mutual esteem and love. For, however it 
 may have seemed to a superficial observer that young 
 Chapin was mainly a wit and born for comedy, to a 
 deeper insight, such as young Davenport must have 
 shared, there appeared in yet more conspicuous aspects 
 the serious side of his life, and his strong sympathy 
 with human greatness in its struggles and sorrows and 
 triumphs. Under his wild exuberance were the throb- 
 bings of a solemn heart. His noisy pleasantries were 
 only like an ornamented gate opening to the inner 
 majesty of an imposing temple, in which pious Glorias 
 or Misereres are rendered in fitting music. To this 
 juvenile stage he indeed brought a comic song and a 
 
22 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 humorous recitation, and so triumphantly did he render 
 them that his comrades gave him stormy applause ; 
 and it was a very natural illusion, with these sport- 
 loving youth, that their rollicking companion was 
 chietly a lover of fun and a candidate with rare pros- 
 spects for comedy. But he also brought to the Siddo- 
 nians, and their assemblies, "Marco- Bozzaris," "Mark 
 Antony," "Philip Exciting the Chiefs to Eise and 
 Exterminate the English," and pieces of kindred 
 sentiment ; and it was in these declamations that the 
 more thoughtful and the riper in years saw and felt 
 the most characteristic power in this lad's earlier and 
 later life. Ever was his Mirth but the attendant on his 
 Gravity. There being thus a common instinct and a 
 responsive chord between the two boys, Davenport 
 and Cliapin, we need not wonder that the former, 
 about to attempt the role of "William Tell," should 
 call the latter to be his first support in enacting 
 the great tragedy ; and we might well envy those who 
 were privileged to see the two aspiring performers 
 bearing their high parts. 
 
 From the first coming together of these two gifted 
 souls, we may turn to survey for a moment their last 
 meeting face to face. Eesting in his coffin, and fol- 
 lowed in solemn procession by the brightest minds of 
 New York City, the great tragedian w\as brought and 
 laid before the pulpit made famous by the great 
 preacher. Over the worn cushion and the open Bible 
 bent the Eeverend Doctor, himself feeble and fading, to 
 take a last look at the noble face of his old comrade. 
 With equal delicacy and depth of emotion he said, "I 
 have known the deceased actor well, particularly in the 
 
BOYHOOD. 23 
 
 younger years of my life, and I always knew him to be* 
 worthy of love and esteem." 
 
 Apart from the instruction of his home, it was with- 
 out doubt m that humble Siddonian Society that 
 Edwin Chapin found the best school of his early life. 
 It was there his genius w\as first kindled to a fervid 
 flame, and he felt himself in possession of a great gift 
 of eloquence. There the secret of his life seemed to 
 burst upon his vision, and to the high art of swaying 
 the public he consecrated himself. He chose the stage 
 as his first love, and it rose before him as the lure of 
 the coming years. 
 
 It was not without pride that his parents now looked 
 upon their son, in whom a rare gift was thus making 
 itself apparent. They w^ere not insensible to the magic 
 of his declamation and the lightning rapidity of his 
 mental processes. But their pride was attended with 
 anxiety and even alarm. Of Puritan training and pious 
 predilections, they could but shrink w4th horror from 
 the thought that their only and dearly loved son, for 
 whom they had so often prayed, should take to the 
 stage and give his life to the theatre. But so strongly 
 rested the histrionic spell and purpose on him that their 
 reproofs and persuasions seemed in vain ; and it is a cur- 
 rent rumor among the relatives of the family that he 
 once ran away with a theatrical troop and actually ap- 
 peared in the more serious business of the public drama. 
 However this may be, it is certain his mother said " I 
 came near losmg my boy," and that his father sent him 
 to the academy at Bennington, Vermont, to keep him 
 from the stage in Boston. 
 
 When his little trunk was finally packed for the 
 
24 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 •journey, his mother took from it sundry well-worn 
 plays and declamations he had concealed in it, and in 
 their place she deposited a copy of the Bible as her part- 
 ing gift. Her cup of joy would have been full could 
 she have foreseen how prophetic was this act of trans- 
 fer ! 
 
III. 
 
 SCHOOLDAYS. 
 
 Pleasant for situation among the Green Mountains 
 is Bennington, of Eevolutionary and patriotic fame. 
 Nestling close into the elbow of the enfolding arm 
 of the mountain, it seems to be shielded from the 
 northern and eastern blasts by barriers as friendly as 
 they are imposing ; while it lies exposed on the south 
 and west to the open sky, and all the charms of the 
 mid-day and the setting sun. Well might an artist or 
 poet covet the scene to awaken his best sensibilities ; 
 for here blend, in a rare companionship, grandeur and 
 beauty, forest and lawn, storm and peace, and mountain 
 streams dashing into foaming cataracts or resting m 
 lucid pools. Here every lofty or lowly mood of the 
 heart may find sympathy and inspiration, as Ulysses 
 found them in " craggy Ithaca," or Wordsworth in the 
 beautiful Westmoreland scenery. 
 
 One of the prettiest of the New England villages is 
 the Bennington of to-day, befitting its surroundings as 
 a jewel does its fine setting. Its twenty-five hundred 
 citizens are noted for honor, refinement, and thrift. 
 Along its tidy streets, inviting resident and stranger to 
 a walk or drive, are seen neat cottages and stately man- 
 sions, with a creditable array of churches and schools, 
 stores and factories. 
 
26 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 It was to this village, thus favored with a rare natural 
 scenery, that Edwin Cliapin, when fourteen or fifteen 
 years old, was sent to attend school. It was hoped hy 
 his parents that he would here both forget and acquire, 
 — forget, if it were possible, the old lessons and loves 
 he had brought from the Siddonian stage, and acquire 
 the new lessons of the text-books, and a promising bias 
 for life. 
 
 Small as the village then was, much smaller than 
 now, it nevertheless contained two rival academies. 
 They were named the Old Line and the Pioneer. 
 It was in the Pioneer that young Edwin's lot was 
 cast. This choice between the institutions was, no 
 doubt, determined by the fact that the headmaster of 
 the latter, James Ballard, was in some way connected 
 with the Hubbells, the relatives of Edwin's mother, 
 who were both numerous and influential in the place. 
 
 But the choice could not have been more fortunate. 
 Mr. Ballard was born to impress and inspire. In him 
 were the blended traits of a Luther and a JNIelancthon, — 
 the bold and energetic, and the gentle and tender ; and 
 there can be little doubt that young Chapin, and others 
 who have risen to fame in our land, were under oblicja- 
 tion to him for much of the noblest incitement and am- 
 bition of their early life. Indeed, it is probable they 
 ever after felt the impulse he imparted to them, even as 
 the flying arrow to the end of its flight feels the im- 
 pulse of the hand that bends the bow. As a past 
 age lives in the present, and a Plato or a Paul starts a 
 wave of philosophy or love that flows along the entire 
 stream of time, so a teacher, if he be an original and 
 noble soul, becomes an abiding power in the life of his 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 27 
 
 pupils. A Thomas Arnold, of Rugby, became a part 
 of the identity of a Thomas Hughes or a Dean Stanley. 
 In a less famous way a Dr. Hosea Ballou mingled his 
 life inextricably with the genius of a Starr King, and 
 lent a tone to that enchanting voice which, by a suffi- 
 ciently delicate ear, might have been detected in his 
 latest sermons in his California pulpit, or in his final 
 recital of the Twenty-third Psalm on his deathbed. 
 And such a teacher was James Ballard. 
 
 His dominant traits were moral courage and an in- 
 vmcible will, and hence his energies rose with the dif- 
 ficulties of his task. While yet a student in Williams 
 College, from which he honorably graduated, he was 
 sought as master of those district schools in the vicinity 
 wdiich were the most turbulent. We are permitted to 
 look at him in the midst of one of these scenes. " It 
 was in Heath," wrote Dr. Holland, the lamented editor 
 of " Scribner's Monthly," "that I was a pupil of Mr. 
 Ballard, when he came to a district school to fill out a 
 winter, broken by the turning of three masters out of 
 school by unmanageable boys. It was one of the old 
 time performances of which we do not hear much in 
 these days. I remember his entrance upon his duties 
 as if it were but yesterday. I remember the words he 
 uttered. I could swear to them at this moment, though 
 he spoke them fifty-three years ago : ' I come here to 
 govern, and not to be governed, and if you do not obey 
 me I will flog you, if you are as big as Goliath. ' He 
 was as good as his word, and he kept the school through ; 
 and his memory is embalmed, I do not doubt, in the 
 heart of every boy of that school now living. In my 
 young imagination he was a hero of largest mould. " 
 
28 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 One of his assistants at tlie Bennington Seminary 
 was Margaret Woods, daughter of the celebrated Ando- 
 ver theological professor, and now the venerable Mrs. 
 Lawrence, living at " Linden Home, " Marblehead ; but 
 who will be best known to the readers of these pages as 
 " Meta Landor," whose poetry and prose for years graced 
 the periodical literature of New England. Looking 
 back across a half century to the young master of 
 the Pioneer, she pays him this compliment : " He 
 was a wonderful combination of energy and gentleness, 
 I believe he feared absolutely nothing but wrong. 
 There was not the least pretence or claptrap about him, 
 but a straightforward, resolute, persistent carrying out 
 of his purposes. I don't think he knew the meaning of 
 cannot but he certainly did of 'loill not." 
 
 As the Norse heroes were thought to meet happily 
 together in their Valhalla, or as the Sir Knights of 
 King Arthur, Lionel and Bedivere, Lancelot and Tris- 
 tram, met at the Eound Table, or as hero ever meets 
 hero in glad recognition of their mutual pluck and 
 power, so met William Lloyd Garrison and this young 
 Bennington master ; and ever after w^ere these intrepid 
 souls fast friends. In common they shared a deep 
 hatred of slavery and the full courage of their convic- 
 tions. 
 
 Early withdrawing his great energies from teaching, 
 and preparing for the ministry, Mr. Ballard spent most 
 of his subsequent years in Grand Rapids, IMichigan, in 
 which city and state he was one of the leaders of the 
 Congregational churches. In that rising city of the 
 West, January 7, 1881, twelve days after the death in 
 New York of his eminent pupil, Dr. Chapin, he peace- 
 
SCHOOLDAYS, 29 
 
 fully closed his eyes in their final sleep, his soul as full 
 
 of courage on the verge of death as in the midst of life. 
 
 From Wordsworth has been borrowed this fitting tribute 
 
 to his character : — 
 
 " But thou, though capable of eternal deed, 
 "Weit kind as resolute, and good as brave." 
 
 In the fact that Mr. Ballard must be regarded as 
 Edwin Chapin's only teacher in the technical sense, is 
 found a justification of this extended sketch. Other 
 teachers he had for brief seasons, but this one alone was 
 permanent enough and powerful enough in this relation 
 to mould and impel and inspire him in the way of 
 study and aim. And every reader of this biography 
 will rejoice that the brilliant youth, whose education 
 had hitherto been so desultory and without promise, at 
 length met a worthy teacher in whose strong and skilful 
 hands,. as clay in the hands of a potter, his plastic gifts 
 were to be manipulated during a period of three or four 
 years. Decisive years, indeed ! As when a drifting 
 ship on the broad sea is arrested and given to a pilot, 
 and turned to a safe port, so w^as it wdien young Chapin, 
 drifting no one knew whither on the wild sea of life, 
 w\as taken in hand by this ruling spirit of the Pio- 
 neer. Through his teacher he found his destiny dawn- 
 ing upon him; or rather we, who look on the scene 
 from afar, observe it was thus. 
 
 Of eloquence Mr. Ballard was an ardent lover, and 
 the more impassioned it was the better it pleased him. 
 It was no gentle breeze, but a whirlwind of oratory that 
 he admired and sought in his models and his pupils. 
 " He had a passion for elocution, " says Eev. Thomas 
 "Wright, one of his early students ; " and if hi his own 
 
30 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 case this passion often led him to overcharge with the 
 powder of emphasis, there was not lacking the hot shot 
 of earnest thought to be propelled by it. " The fiery 
 Demosthenes was his ideal. In the great Irish orators, 
 kindling to a stormy enthusiasm as they advanced in 
 their orations, he found favorite examples to commend ; 
 and with equal pride he pointed to Patrick Henry and 
 Henry Clay as American models for imitation. Before 
 grace he placed energy as an oratorical accomplishment, 
 and trusted less to thought than inspiration. Hence 
 Edwin Chapin at once arrested his attention and won 
 his pride and love, as a youth in whom the flame of 
 eloquence kindled to a rare heat and glow ; and he at 
 once set about training him for declamation. And the 
 boy took to the discipline as a lark to its song, or a 
 duck to the water. 
 
 AYith an immense effect did he render the stirring 
 selections his master made for him ; and it was soon 
 noised about the village that on Wednesday afternoons 
 at the Seminary might be heard an eloquence that 
 should not be missed. More and more the people 
 came to sit under the pleasing spell. In the season of 
 the year that would permit it, the little hall was for- 
 saken and the yard outside was sought to afford ampler 
 accommodation. Mr. Wright, from whom a word has 
 already been quoted, says : " The speaking exercises of 
 Wednesday afternoon were the great attraction of the 
 week, the interest culminating when young Chapin ap- 
 peared on the stage in Coleridge's 'Sailor's Eeturn,' or 
 Byron's ' Isles of Greece.' " Even the students of 
 the Old Line, the rival seminary, were drawn to hear 
 the young orator of the Pioneer. " I once went over 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 31 
 
 to Mr. Ballard's academy," writes the Eev. J. A.Wright, 
 " to hear Chapin declaim. The speaking was out under 
 the trees. I shall never forget the declamation. It 
 was the only thmg of the kind that ever impressed me, 
 but it captured my imagination and in fact melted 
 my bones. The title of his piece I cannot recall, but it 
 was a bit of blank verse, made of a scene in the Eevela- 
 tion. Chapter VI. I think most of his school exercises 
 were of a religious character. His poetical pieces were 
 commonly on Bible themes." Upon the students of both 
 seminaries he made a profound impression ; and one of 
 the number writes that "the attempts of the other boys 
 to imitate him were curious and sometmies ludicrous." 
 In vain does the sparrow seek to be the nightmgale, or 
 the lynx aspire to mimic the roar of the lion. 
 
 There is little doubt that the " bit of blank verse" 
 above referred to, was written by him who delivered it ; 
 and that the visitor from the Old Line was overpowered 
 by the thought as well as voice of the young orator ; 
 for Edwin Chapin was also the poet of the Pioneer. 
 One who had written ephemeral stanzas, to deliver from 
 a Boston sidewalk to a boy auditor in the second story 
 of a broker's shop, was now composing more ambitious 
 and enduring lines. In comic or serious humor the 
 muse came often to his rapt soul, and he was pleased 
 with her company. As there is a special affinity be- 
 tween love and poetry, it is more than probable, if tra- 
 dition be true, that his poetic gift was now inspired 
 by the tender sentiment. As the poetic harp of a 
 Dante was swept by the fingers of a Beatrice, so some 
 gentle hand may have touched the strings of this 
 youthful soul and drawn from it an unwonted music. 
 
32 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 He surely wrote under the heat of a true inspiration, 
 and a number of his academy poems are still preserved 
 and cherished. But as the discussion of his merits and 
 demerits as a poet is reserved for a special chapter, the 
 reader can only be gratified at this point with limited 
 citations, with the hope that these will take a truer 
 emphasis from standing in connection with the period 
 of his life in which they were written. 
 
 In a poem of this date, on the " Attributes of God," 
 he begins each stanza by a repetition of the attribute 
 it is to celebrate. He thus seeks to exalt it. It is like 
 the " holy, holy, holy ! " in the Bible ascription, and 
 reveals a sincere reverence. Three stanzas from the 
 middle of the poem must suffice as a type of the whole 
 composition. 
 
 " Almighty, Almighty, Lord, — who could stand 
 At the blast of Thy breath, or the weight of Thy hand ? 
 Sahits, angels, archangels, before Thee bow down. 
 And rejoice in Thy favor, but quail at Thy frown. 
 
 Omniscient, Omniscient, — our hearts Thou can'st see ; 
 Our actions, our thoughts, are all open to Thee ; 
 Thou knowest each folly, each passion, each fault, 
 The proud Thou wilt humble, the humble exalt. 
 
 All-Present, All-Present, — although we may flee 
 To the darkness of hell or the depth of the sea, 
 To the caves of the earth or the realms of the air, 
 To the desert or mountains, God, Thou art there ! " 
 
 The "Burial at Sea" is another of his schoolday 
 poems, and one wdiose simple pathos has touched many 
 hearts. Over it mother and maiden have often wept, 
 and stronger hearts have been moved by its affecting 
 narrative. When it finally appeared in the " Southern 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 33 
 
 Literary Messenger," it was copied by many of the 
 periodicals of the day, one of these calling it a "great 
 poem in small words." 
 
 " Bury mo not in the deep, deep sea ! " 
 The words came faint and mournful'ly 
 From the pallid lips of a youth, who lay 
 On the cabin couch where, day hy day. 
 He had wasted and pined till o'er his brow 
 The deathshade had slowly passed ; and now. 
 When the land and his fond-loved home were nigh, 
 They had gathered around him to see him die. 
 
 *' Bury me not in the deep, deep sea, 
 
 AVhere the billowy shroud will roll over me, 
 
 "Where no light can break through the dark cold wave, 
 
 And no sunbeam rest sweetly upon my grave. 
 
 ' It boots not,' I know I have oft been told, 
 
 ' AVhere the body shall lie when the heart is cold,' — 
 
 Yet grant ye, oh, grant ye this boon to me, 
 
 Bury me not in the deep, deep sea ! 
 
 " For in fancy I've listened to well-known words. 
 
 The free, wild wind, and the song of birds ; 
 
 I have thought of ho7ne, of cot and bower. 
 
 And of scenes that I loved in childhood's hour. 
 
 I have ever hoped to be laid, when I died, ♦ 
 
 In the churchyard there on the green hillside ; 
 
 By the bones of my fothers viy grave should be, — 
 
 Bury me not in the deep, deep sea ! 
 
 " Let my death slumber be where a mother's prayer 
 And sister's tears can be blended there. 
 Oh, 'twill be sweet, ere the heart's throb is o'er. 
 To know, when its fountain shall gush no more, 
 That those it so fondly has yearned for will come 
 To plant the first wildflower of Spring on my tomb. 
 Let me lie Avhere the loved ones can weep over me, — 
 Bury me not in the deep, deep sea. 
 3 
 
34 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 " And there is another ; her tears would be shed 
 
 For him who lay far in an ocean- bed. 
 
 In hours that it pains nie to think of now, 
 
 She hath twined these locks and kissed this brow. 
 
 In the hair she has wreathed shall tlie sea-snake hiss ? 
 
 The brow she has pressed shall the. cold wave kiss ? 
 
 For the sake of that bright one who waits for me, 
 
 Bury me not in the deep, deep sea ! 
 
 " She hath been in my dreams " — His voice failed there. 
 They gave no heed to his dying prayer. 
 
 They have lowered him slow o'er the vessel's side ; 
 
 Above him hath closed the solemn tide. 
 
 Where to dip her wing the wild fowl rests. 
 
 Where the blue waves dance with their foamy crests, 
 
 Where the billows bound and the winds sport free, — 
 
 They have buried him there, in the deep, deep sea. 
 
 A singular theme for a young man yet in his teens 
 to treat in a young lady's album is — " The Grave." 
 Earely has a youth paused to reflect on this subject 
 enough to be stirred by it to those deep feelings that 
 seek to take form in poetry. The youthful heart 
 naturally turns away from the resting-place of man to 
 contemplate the arena of his activities, and is much 
 more likely to sing of war and fame, or to paint before 
 its reader a scene of romantic peace and joy amid the 
 vales of time. It shrinks from a gaze at the darkness 
 and decay of the tomb. But Edwin Chapin, the most 
 gleeful of youth, sat down and turned his own mind 
 and the mind of some gentle friend to the final home 
 of earth. 
 
 " The young and the noble, the brave and the fair, 
 In the cold silent tomb now are taking their rest ; 
 The shroud is wrapt round them, they calmly sleep there, 
 And the clods of the valley repose on each breast. " 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 35 
 
 In this serious poem of four stanzas, as also in that 
 on the "Attributes of God," is revealed the inmost soul 
 of Edwin Chapin. A pious gravity, a solemn rever- 
 ence, was ever his rulmg trait. But he was also a rare 
 lover of fun ; and of this love he made an honest con- 
 fession in the following lines by which, while at the 
 Academy, he dedicated a Miss Pierson's scrapbook. 
 
 " The world's a scrapbook ; and 't is filled 
 
 With things of strange alloy, — 
 "With scraps of pleasure, scraps of jiain, 
 
 And scraps of grief and joy. 
 But give me scraps with humor filled, 
 
 \Vith scraps of fun and glee, — 
 They'll drive away the scraps of pain, 
 
 And scraps of miserj'." 
 
 But our portrait of this academy boy has not yet 
 received all its colors. He was more than orator 
 and poet, and the inspirer of a profound admiration of 
 his rare gifts. Not always along these high and sol- 
 emn paths did he walk. He was also a wit and a 
 mimic, something of a ventriloquist, a singer of comic 
 songs, a felicitous story-teller, a provoker of laughter of 
 the loudest type. "He was facetious and funny," 
 writes a relative, " but large-hearted, manly, and noble." 
 He was full of stage antics, — at one moment doing the 
 clown, and at the next falling into the most tragic atti- 
 tudes. What Macaulay wrote of Garrick is partly true 
 of the academic Chapin. " Garrick often exhibited all 
 his powers of mimicry for the amusement of the little 
 Burneys, — awed them by shuddering and crouching as 
 if he saw a ghost, scared them by raving like a maniac 
 in St. Luke's, and then at once became an auctioneer. 
 
36 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 a chimney-sweeper, or an old woman, and made them 
 laugh till the tears ran down their cheeks." It was a 
 favorite trick of young Chapin to imitate the singer 
 who got a hundred dollars' for a song, — fifty for start- 
 ing it, and another fifty for stopping the unearthly 
 music. " His face was flexible as his voice," says Mrs. 
 Lawrence, from whom we have already quoted ; " I 
 have a distinct recollection of his grimaces, and of the 
 mirtli they provoked; and I remember thinking he 
 would probably find his career on the stage." A hu- 
 morous composition of his on "Tunothy Ticklepitcher " 
 is still remembered at Bennington. " He never studied, 
 but always had his lessons," is a tradition yet cur- 
 rent in the village. "Do you remember," said the 
 writer of these pages to an elderly lady of the place, a 
 relative of Chapin, "of any fix that this hilarious youth 
 got into while here ? " " None that he didn't instantly 
 get out of, " was her swift and proud reply. He was 
 never at a loss for a repartee. In the homes where he 
 boarded he had his own names for the children, and 
 the cats and dogs, and to every name he hitched im- 
 promptu rhymes. To form a jingle of words suited the 
 celerity of his mental action, while jDuns fell around 
 him like leaves from the trees in autumn. 
 
 Thus strong in shades and lights is the portrait of 
 this young student at the Pioneer. Eivals in their 
 claims to his heart were Gravity and Mirth. At these 
 two extremes of sensibility he stood conspicuous. A 
 priest could not have been more grave, nor a clown 
 more gay. But since mirth shows less reserve than 
 gravity, is less a grace for private hours, the mistake 
 was naturally made by his companions of reading his 
 
SCHOOLDAYS. 37 
 
 future from the wrong page in the book of his life. 
 " The students at Bennington," writes Eev. Dr. Pierson 
 of Michigan, himself a student there, "generally pre- 
 dicted that Chapin would distinguish himself as an 
 actor or as a poet. I think none of us at that time 
 dreamed that his tastes would incline him to the pul- 
 pit." But they were deceived, as one looking at the 
 newly poured wine might think it all foam and sparkle. 
 For he who at that age of life was writing such poetry 
 as we have read from his pen, declaiming blank verse on 
 a scene in Eevelation, and who neglected not to seek 
 his closet daily in prayer and meditation, — as it was 
 known at his Bennington home that he did, — must have 
 been borne on by an undercurrent of piety that was 
 stronger than any other tide that swept through his 
 being ; and a pulpit was the real goal toward which he 
 was moving. 
 
 After four years in the academy, and in the home of 
 Deacon Aaron Hubbell, he entered the home and the 
 service of Henry Kellogg, lawyer and post-master at 
 Bennington. Mrs. Kellogg was a Hubbell, and shared 
 a family interest in the young man newly installed in 
 her household. Here he spent two years as a clerk in 
 the post-office. But literature was his lure, meanwhile, 
 and the seminary and the rooms of its students were 
 his favorite haunts. Again we quote from Dr. Pierson. 
 "After the labors of the day Chapin would come up to 
 the seminary and to our room, and I have a very vivid 
 recollection of his there reciting comic pieces greatly to 
 our amusement and that of our visitors. Sometimes he 
 would take part in the debating societies of the older 
 scholars in one of the schoolrooms. I recollect that on 
 
38 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 one occasion tlie poetry of Byron was the subject of dis- 
 cussion. Chapin was present and, after listening to the 
 remarks of others, rose and spoke at length in such 
 strains of eloquence as completely overpowered the 
 audience and carried it with him." 
 
 It was during these two years that influences con- 
 spired to turn his attention to the law as the profession 
 he would follow. As he had been lured by the stage, 
 so now, but with a less powerful spell, the bar rose 
 to attract him. It was, no doubt, more the i^ressure of 
 circumstances than the impulse of his nature that deter- 
 mined this choice. By the fact that he was living with 
 a prosperous lawyer, and made daily conversant with 
 legal transj)irings, the law was made to seem to him the 
 nearest and most natural calling to which he could give 
 his mind and devote his years. And so, with a new 
 suit of clothes, and forty dollars in his pocket, with such 
 an education as he had been able to obtain in four 
 years, and with an honest and ardent heart, he left fair 
 Bennington by the mountains, of which he ever retained 
 tender recollections, and turned his face toward Troy, 
 New York. 
 
IV. 
 
 LIFE AT TROY. 
 
 From Bennington to Troy by stage was a trip often 
 made, fifty and more years ago, by young men seeking 
 to begin tlieir career in the world. Over that pleasant 
 road have passed some of the notable men of the 
 country. And hither came Edwin H, Chapin in May 
 of 1836, with twenty years of life resting on his head 
 and heart, a new suit of clothes on his back, a few dol- 
 lars in his pocket, and a great hope leading him on. 
 
 But he only tarried here for a few months, as if some 
 fate were pushing him on to other scenes. Before May 
 of 1837 he had left Troy ; and he left it not as he came, 
 along a road cheered by the radiance of a flammg am- 
 bition, but by a path over which hung a cloud. On 
 his heart had broken an unlooked for storm, and, like 
 a shattered vessel, he went forth to seek a haven of 
 safety. 
 
 During his brief stay in Troy he had touched the 
 borders of the three great kingdoms — Law, Politics, 
 and Religion ; but this swiftness of vicissitude and stress 
 of experience seemed to be too much even for his ardent 
 and active temperament to bear. While in each of 
 these three provinces he stood conspicuous, in the last 
 he became an object of pity and solicitude. 
 
40 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 On his arrival from Bennington he entered the law- 
 office of Huntington & Van Schoonhoven. Here he 
 took up the task of turning his forensic dream into a 
 reality, and daily wrestled with Blackstone and Kent 
 and legal forms. In an atmosphere void of all poetry, 
 save that which he brought to it or created in it, he sat 
 down to make himself master of the law and of the dr}^ 
 details of the court. But he must have felt like a wild 
 bird brought from the free air of the mountains and 
 shut in a stilling cage ! It is the testimony of a fellow 
 law-student and friend, the Hon. Martin I. Townsend, 
 LL. D., ex-member of Congress, and still a resident of 
 Troy, not that young Chapin bent fondly over the legal 
 pages, but that " he was a cheerful, social young man, 
 much given to declaiming choice selections from the 
 classics and the dramatists." In his native domain of 
 fervid eloquence he seems to have made a deeper im- 
 pression on the tablets of memory, than at his new task 
 of reading law. 
 
 But, nevertheless. Mi. Townsend contends that "Cha- 
 pin would have been as conspicuous at the bar as he 
 was in the pulpit, had he been as faithful to its 
 demands. " While admitting his love of literature, for 
 he was ever discussing the merits of the famous books ; 
 acknowledging his passion for authorship, for he was 
 much given to writing for the "Troy Budget;" and 
 conceding his proneness to oratory, since he was ha- 
 bitually declaiming eloquent passages from the great 
 orators and poets, — still he saw in him, as he thought, 
 that subtle gift of logic and latent patience which lie 
 at the base of forensic success. If he had inherited a 
 talent from Demosthenes, so would Mr. Townsend claim 
 that he held an equal gift from Solon. 
 
LIFE AT TROY. 41 
 
 But by another intimate friend this view of the case 
 was not entertained. For some reason Chapiu left the 
 office of Huntington & Van Schoonhoven, and entered 
 that of Judge Pierson. With the son of the latter, now 
 the Eev. Dr. Pierson of Michigan, he had been on inti- 
 mate terms at Bennington, and this friendship may have 
 had some influence in determining him to leave one 
 law-office for the other. Of his early companion Dr. 
 Pierson writes : — 
 
 " I left Mr. Ballard's school in November of 1835, and 
 went to my home in Troy, my parents having moVed there 
 that fall. The next time I saw Chapiii he was a student in 
 the law-office of my father, who was surrogate of tlie county. 
 While a law-student he had a host of friends in Troy, and I 
 never knew of his having an enemj^ there or elsewhere. But 
 the study of the law was not congenial to his tastes. His 
 mind was not of a legal cast. It was too imaginative and 
 poetical. He did not like the dry reading of law-hooks, 
 but found his delight in reading biography and history and 
 poetry. It was a great relief to him to throw aside Black- 
 stone and take up Gibbon or Byron. I think he himself be- 
 came soon convinced that he could not succeed in the legal 
 profession." 
 
 As between the verdict of the eminent la^vyer and 
 that of the eminent clergyman, it may not be possible 
 to determine where lies the exact truth. Since Chapin 
 early withdrew* from the study of the law, it can only 
 be a matter of conjecture to what success his gifts 
 would have borne him in that profession. " If he had 
 not equalled a Webster, he would have rivalled a 
 Choate," some one has said ; but we have no means of 
 measuring the speed and distance one may make along 
 
42 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 a path he has never travelled. It cannot be proved 
 that Homer would have made a great general or Napo- 
 leon a great poet, Channing a superior business man 
 or Astor a fine preacher. It seems to be well settled 
 that there is no such thing as a universal genius, but 
 that all genius comes limited to some special bias. It 
 is probable that no one can turn with equal ease and 
 promise to any task, drawing at will a philosophy from 
 the depths of meditation, or bringing down a great poem 
 from the heights of Parnassus, or threading the labyrinths 
 of a constitutional debate, or mounting the orator's 
 stand with absolute mastery. Sailing its rare boat for 
 the wrong port, genius is often doomed to make head- 
 way against wind and tide, and to the, sadness of never 
 reaching the desired haven. It is probable that Chapin 
 was not equally fitted for the bar or the pulpit ; and m 
 the fact that he lost heart for the law in the eight or ten 
 months he gave to the study of it, w^e have a seeming 
 confirmation of Dr. Pierson's statement that he dis- 
 trusted his fitness for its pursuit, and felt the real bent 
 of his genius to be in another direction. It was deny- 
 ing to his Pegasus the use of his native wings. A born 
 poet and orator, how could he love the severe exactitudes 
 of juridical study and practice ? Yearning for a free and 
 fervid inspiration under the touch of sentiment, how 
 could he submit to a patient and heavy plodding ? 
 
 It is the opinion of Mr. Townsend that Chapin, while 
 fitted for the law, was weaned from it by the fascination 
 of the political platform, which offered him a theatre 
 of eloquence. In the Fall of 1836 occurred the Van 
 Buren campaign, and it was at Albany that the excite- 
 ment culminated; and Troy failed' not to feel the near 
 
LIFE AT TROY. 43 
 
 commotion. The romantic candidate was not' only a 
 son of the Empire State, but a chief spirit in the famous 
 " Albany Regency ," and in that section the conflict was 
 doubly intense. To the election of Van Buren young 
 Chapin and Townsend gave their hearts and voices. 
 Together they " stumped " Eensselaer County, each 
 making twenty or more speeches. From the platforms 
 in the halls, or from dry-goods boxes brought into the 
 public squares, the youthful orators harangued the 
 people ; and who can doubt that these modern Trojans 
 would have drawn a line from old Homer, had he been 
 one of their listeners! Not wholly unlike the elo- 
 quence of Ulysses could theirs have been, and of that 
 ancient orator the poet says, " he sent his great voice 
 forth out of his breast in power, and 'his words fell like 
 the winter snows." Of Chapin's speeches Mr. Town- 
 send affirms : " They were as successful in their line as 
 his sermons were afterwards. Everybody patted him 
 on the back and praised him for them. They were 
 rough-and-tumble, but perfectly charming." In har- 
 mony with this is the testimony of Dr. Pierson. 
 " Chapin took part," he writes, " in the presidential 
 campaign of 1836, and I well remember hearing mem- 
 bers of the Van Buren party speak in most exalted 
 terms of his eloquent speeches at their political meet- 
 ings." From one platform to another he was followed 
 by enthusiastic hearers, not for instruction, but for en- 
 tertainment, just to hear his speech repeated, and feel 
 anew its magnetism. 
 
 Here once more Chapin laid his hand on his real 
 sceptre, and was filled with delight. He rose to that 
 oratorical supremacy which was his birthright. In this 
 impetuous rushing out of his soul through his lips, and 
 
44 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 in the responsive liusli or the outburst of applause that 
 followed, he found that strange rapture that ever comes 
 when genius touches the path of its true destiny. As 
 he swept on in his torrent of speech in behalf of his 
 favorite candidate, and as the Dutch farmers and vil- 
 lao-ers warmed tlieir hands and strained their throats in 
 recognition of his marvellous eloquence, he must have 
 felt indeed an inward ecstasy and sighed for some per- 
 manent rostrum from which to survey the crowds that 
 would gather around him. Hence we are quite ready 
 to hear ]\Ir. Townsend say : "I found him gloomy after 
 the campaign, and I said to my friends, ' He finds it 
 dull to come back to the law-office and delve at the 
 table alone, with none to applaud.' Within a short 
 time he revealed a great depression of spirit." As one 
 forsakes a natural friend who enchants, to cultivate a 
 a love for one not after his heart, so did he retire from 
 the rostrum to the study of law. 
 
 But this is not the whole secret of the confessed 
 gloom which darkened around that ardent soul. The 
 young law-student and orator had fallen a victim to a 
 religious revival, carried on after the Burchard style, 
 probably by Burchard himself, having the depths of his 
 spiritual life broken up for the first time, and after the 
 most alarming fashion. Always pious in no ordinary 
 degree, he now became in a measure religiously unbal- 
 anced. Ever had his soul been the dominant power of 
 his life, but now it was hurled into a wild and melan- 
 choly supremacy. Under the terrific impulse his judg- 
 ment yielded for a little its serene control, and, late at 
 night, he was found in prayer at the street corners, and 
 frequently wandered in a state of absent-mindedness, 
 absorbed by the new and awful thoughts and fears that 
 
LIFE AT TROY. 45 
 
 swept before him. His days were filled with anxiety, 
 his nights with terror. Life having assumed thus sud- 
 denly solemn and even fearful aspects, the law became 
 still less interesting to him as a calling, and the minis- 
 try rose to his notice as perhaps a solemn duty, if not 
 a privilege. 
 
 It is a tradition at Troy that he went to Eev. Dr. 
 Beman, an old-fashioned Calvinistic clergyman of the 
 city, to consult about his spiritual estate and the new 
 purpose taking shape in his soul, but that he received 
 no special encouragement toward the ministry, as his 
 conversion was not wholly of an approved type. 
 
 With the life-plan he had formed a few months before 
 thus broken up, and his new aspiration unencouraged, 
 he left Troy, amid cloud and storm, and went to visit 
 his parents and sisters, who were residing for a little 
 time at Bridge water, near Utica. " In great distress of 
 mind he came to us," says his sister, who is still living. 
 His mental and emotional distraction she well remem- 
 bers, and recalls the efforts of his parents to re-estab- 
 lish his peace of mind and cheer his depressed heart. 
 
 To such an experience as he had thus encountered, 
 no temperament was ever more exposed. Not given to 
 logic and deliberation, but ever prone to cast himself on 
 some wild torrent of impulse, he was just the one to 
 offer himself a captive to a Burchard or a Finney. As 
 one in natural sympathy with their fiery zeal, he gave 
 them a ready ear and an eager heart ; but, with their 
 fervor that charmed, he had also accepted their dark 
 errors, which bore to him a " fear that hath torment " 
 and a gloom which rested like a pall on his life. It 
 was from these he fled, and sought the peace of his 
 home. 
 
V. 
 
 LIFE AT UTICA. 
 
 Having enjoyed amid the sympathies of his home 
 at Bridgewater a brief refuge from the religious storm 
 that had swept over his soul, Edwin Chapin went with 
 his father to Utica, where the rambling artist had some 
 orders to fill. The father and son went into temporary 
 quarters near the office of the " Evangelical Magazine 
 and Gospel Advocate," a Universalist paper published 
 by Rev. A. B. Grosh and 0. Hutchinson, the former 
 being its editor and the latter its business manager. At 
 this office were kept on sale the books of the Univer- 
 salist sect, — especially those of an expository character, 
 which were the ones mostly sought in that early day, 
 — and also a limited supply of general literature. 
 
 Into this humble retreat for the friends of Univer- 
 salism in Utica and the regions round about, came one 
 day young Chapin. By what motive he was di'awn 
 hither we know not. In an idle hour he may have 
 merely drifted into this obscure nook. It may be he 
 was drawn to the place Ijy the sign that indicated that 
 here a newspaper was published, for already a news- 
 paper had come to stand in signal favor with his heart, 
 as a medium of bearing his thoughts in prose and 
 poetry to the public. He was by instinct and habit an 
 author. As an academy-boy and as a law-student, he 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 47 
 
 had written much for publication. Hence he found a 
 fascination in the newspaper office, as a sort of gateway 
 between his private musings and mental creations, and 
 the kindling hearts of his readers. He may have come 
 thus into the " Magazme and Advocate " office only to 
 contemplate the open avenue, at that time, indeed, ro- 
 mantic to him, leading from an inspired seclusion to the 
 light of day. But the guess better suits the mood in 
 which the young man was then pinmg, that he had 
 learned that here was held and advocated another view 
 of religion from that m which he had been reared, and 
 with which, in its more terrific aspects, as painted by a 
 Finney or Burchard, he had recently struggled and was 
 still struggling ; and that he embraced the opportunity 
 thus open to him to make some inquiries about this new 
 theology called Universalism. 
 
 But failing to know the secret influence that turned 
 his steps in this direction, it is certain that he came 
 hither, and that he came again and agahi, as if some 
 pleasant attraction drew him to the place. It proved 
 to be the turning point of his life. On that morning or 
 mid-day or evening walk that first bore him to the door 
 of this newspaper office, we seem to see resting, like a 
 pyramid on its point, the great career he finally made 
 for himself in the Liberal Church and in the world. 
 Here was the first step in the special journey he after- 
 wards so grandly accomplished. It may have been a 
 random or a self-directed step, or, as some would like to 
 think, a step inspired and urged by Providence ; but 
 there it rises to our view in its broad significance ! The 
 old picture of a vast cloud hanging over the sea, grad- 
 ually retreating into a little vase on the shore, is here 
 
48 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 reversed. For the idle or conscious impulse of a moment 
 expands into a great and solemn biography, 
 
 "Among the strangers who were in the habit of coming 
 in to look over our stock of books," writes Mr. Hutchinson, 
 " I one day noticed a young man, apparently deei)ly in- 
 terested in examining some of our prominent Universalist 
 publications. Having an eye to business, I entered into con- 
 versation with liim, with the view of ascertaining his wants, 
 when he informed me lie did not come in to purchase, but 
 Avould like to look over some of our books, as they treated of 
 subjects of especial interest to him. He then explained that 
 his name was Chapin ; that he was sto})ping at a hotel near 
 by in company with his father, an artist, who had come to 
 Utica for the purpose of painting the portraits of some of the 
 leading men of the city ; and that it would give him pleasure 
 to spend some time in examining our books, especially such 
 as related to theological points in wdiich he felt a deep inter- 
 est. Perceiving that he Avas not only an earnest searcher 
 after truth, but tlie possessor of a brilliant intellect, I deter- 
 mined to afford him every facility in my povver, and assured 
 him he was welcome to spend as much time in the store as he 
 pleased, calling his special attention to such works as Smith 
 on the Divine Government, Ballon on the Atonement, Wil- 
 liamson's Argument for Christianity, and other works which 
 seemed to meet his wants. Thenceforward he spent much 
 time in the store, where he soon became acquainted Avitli Mr. 
 Grosh and his brothers, and Rev. Dolphus Skinner, and other 
 clergymen and prominent laymen who were in the habit of 
 frequenting the place." 
 
 The proneness of the son to make a daily visit to this 
 Universalist resort stirred the fears of his father, who 
 directly placed him in the law-office of J. Watson 
 Williams, at a salary of $300 a year. But the new 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 49 
 
 link had been forged in the fire of the soul and could 
 not be broken. The law-student's heart was now in the 
 " Magazine and Advocate " office, kindling with the 
 broader spirit and hope of Universalism, and feeling a 
 new love of God taking the place of the old fear, which, 
 in the few recent months, had darkened into a despair. 
 The die was cast, and the throw could not be recalled. 
 And so the young man went to work for his money on 
 one side of the street, and stole across to the other for 
 spiritual comfort and genial companionship. Before 
 long his name appeared in the " Magazine and Advo- 
 cate." On the first day of July, 1837, he had written 
 a patriotic hymn for publication, and gave this paper a 
 joint privilege with another to print it. j\Ir. Grosh 
 thus introduced him and it to his patrons : " By the 
 kindness of our esteemed friend, Edwin H. Chapin, 
 author of the following Independence Hymn, we are 
 enabled to give it to our readers one week earlier than 
 if we had been obliged to wait to copy it from the 
 ' Observer,' to which it was first sent for publication." 
 In this period, from the editorial pen, Chapin's name, at 
 length so familiar and so honored, appeared for the first 
 time before the Universalist public ; and in this hymn, 
 which would do credit to a riper muse, we have the first 
 beams from the star that finally shone with such mag- 
 nitude and lustre in our sky. The poem is in the form 
 of a nation's prayer, and is laid on the altar with a 
 reverent hand : — 
 
 God of this People ! Thou whose breath 
 
 Swell'd the white sail, and wing'd the breeze, 
 ^ And sped the Exiles' trembling bark, 
 In safety through the stormy seas — 
 4 
 
50 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 To whom our trusting sires look'd up 
 For strength to rive the Tyrant's chain ; 
 
 Whose wings were 'round them as a shield, 
 Amid the thickest battle rain — 
 
 From the old Pilgrims' altar-rock, 
 
 Far to the sounding Western sea 
 A Nation wafts the voice in song. 
 
 And 2)ours the heart, in pray'r, to Thee ! 
 
 Hush'd be the peal of booming gun, 
 
 Hush'd be the lofty ptean now ; 
 While low before each holy shrine 
 
 We close the eye and veil the brow. 
 
 And, Father, be the pray'r we breathe. 
 
 Of thanks to Thee for mercies giv'n ; 
 For others' weal ; for^)c«cc and light. 
 
 That tears be dried a,\\(\. fetters riv'n. 
 
 And when again the shouts ring loud. 
 
 And when they tell of storied glen. 
 Of haunted stream and hallowed sod. 
 
 Linked with the deeds of mighty men. 
 
 When the old Charter meets our sight. 
 And when our " banner flouts the skies" ; 
 
 Oh then, may grateful tlioughts of Thee 
 Blend with our purest memories ! 
 
 Still, Father, be our nation's Guide 
 
 By night or day ; in darkness bow'd, 
 Or rais'd to Honor's dazzling height ; — 
 
 Be Thou our " pillar " and our " cloud." 
 
 That when beside our lowly graves, 
 Our children s children bend the knee. 
 
 They still may praise for blessings giv'n, 
 And shout the anthem " we are free ! " 
 
 A sect could hardly choose a better form of advent 
 than this for one who, in after years, would be its glory 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 51 
 
 and its pride, since he came thus in the power of the 
 two great sentiments, so important to the world — Re- 
 ligion and Patriotism. Bowing at these most signifi- 
 cant altars set up on our planet, the altar of a God 
 and the altar of a nation, he was first seen by the de- 
 nomination which he was to honor, and which would 
 honor him. 
 
 In the column with this poem, which appears to have 
 been written for the " Observer," we have Chapin's first 
 words written expressly for Universalist readers. In 
 them he turned his face and heart openly to the people 
 he was to love and serve so devotedly in after years, 
 and on this account an interest centres in them that 
 will justify their transfer to these pages. 
 
 " Messrs Editors : — The following apothegms I have 
 culled from a work with which, from a slight glance at one 
 of its volumes, I have been much entertained. It is entitled 
 ' Laconics ; or the best words of the best authors ; ' and is 
 indeed a * collection of gems ' from the richest Literary Cas- 
 kets. Although it has been before the public these few years 
 past, yet if its contents prove as pleasing to many of your 
 readers as they have to myself, I am sure they Avill be grati- 
 fied by seeing some of them published in your valuable and 
 wide-circulating journal. To many, they may be as ' familiar 
 as household words.' To many new and original. Be that 
 as it may, to all I trust these friendly and ' sage advisers ' 
 will prove interesting and instructive. Should you see fit to 
 publish them, I will endeavor from time to time to continue 
 the selections. E. H. C." 
 
 A dozen apothegms were drawn from the book and 
 set under the above communication ; and, as every one's 
 task that is done from the heart is a mirror of the life, 
 
52 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 SO in these selections, which were continued in three 
 successive numbers of the paper, we have at least some 
 significant etchings, if not a full portrait, of this young 
 man's genius and temper. Three traits of his life are 
 made to appear — his high literary instinct, his love of 
 condensation, and his humanity. He gathered these 
 flowers and fruits from no common bushes. By a nat- 
 ural taste he took to the finest colors and flavors. But 
 equally did he love the muUiini in parvo of these rare 
 bits of greatness. With his ardent temperament, pro- 
 lixity had no chance to find favor. He could not wait 
 on the slow pace of thought, leisurely travelling on 
 through long periods and multiplying words in the 
 ratio of its weakness. No Alexandrine measure, that 
 " like a wounded snake drags its slow length along," 
 could hold his rushing impulse. Hence he revealed 
 himself in his early love of Laconics, and all through 
 his life he was wont to create them in the white heat 
 of his own mind. As the eager Spartans, according to 
 Plutarch, " jerked out great sayings," so Chapin would 
 hurl a great theme into a period, or paint a vast picture 
 with a dash of his pen. But in these selected words 
 the moral credit of the young man is most conspicuous. 
 In the high principles and sentiments which served as 
 touchstones to his soul, as he pondered over these terse 
 pages, we have a sign of his true nobility. A humane 
 period caught his eye as surely as Blondel's sweet song 
 caught the ear of the Lion-hearted Prince. It is ar 
 pleasing tradition with the ]\Iohammedans, because at- 
 testing the greatness of their Prophet, that, as he walked 
 the earth, everything beautiful, birds and flowers, the 
 finest music and the rarest thoughts, flew to greet him ; 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 53 
 
 and so are the generosity and honor of young Chapin 
 mirrored in the noble Laconics which offered themselves 
 for his pen to transcribe. " The English punish vice ; 
 the Chinese do better, they reward virtue," is the first 
 in the triple list, and drawn from Goldsmith. From 
 Lord Herbert he quoted : " He that cannot forgive oth- 
 ers, breaks the bridge over which he must pass him- 
 self ; for every one has need to be forgiven." In Sir 
 Philip Sidney's words, " A just man hateth the evil, but 
 not the evil-doer," he discovered the text of the true 
 reformer, and foreshadowed the spuit he was destined 
 to exemplify in hunself. With like good taste and 
 moral instinct he completed his task of culling Laconics 
 for his readers, and thus attended by the Muse and the 
 great authors he rose in the Universalist horizon. 
 
 With plenty of esteem and good-will to confer on 
 their new and brilliant acquaintance, and but little 
 money, Grosh & Hutchinson made up their minds to 
 offer him an increase of fifty dollars a year in salary if 
 he would come into their office. On his first appear- 
 ance in their paper they had discovered that he could 
 greatly aid them in conducting their literary columns 
 and in general proof-reading, and their offer was made 
 at once, and it was at once accepted. With the greater 
 pay ranged on the side of the greater inclination, hesita- 
 tion was out of the question ; and now, with a lighter 
 heart than ever before, the young man crossed the street 
 from the law-office to meet his newly found friends, 
 whose service he was to enter, and to steadily breathe 
 an atmosphere that had charmed him. 
 
 And this delight was the greater from the fact that 
 Mr. Williams, too practical to enter into his poetical 
 
54 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 and speculative tendencies, had spoken with disfavor, 
 if not with derision, of his Fourth-of-July Hymn, and 
 other pieces from his pen. These criticisms touched a 
 tender spot. The Muse, a jealous creature, will not 
 be spoken ill of. The fire of real genius cannot stand 
 cold water. A Dr. Franklin's father might well enough 
 laugh at his son's boyish doggerel, and tell him that 
 " poetry led to the poorhouse and he had better not 
 cultivate it ; " for the lad had no poetic gift to feel 
 the sting of such derision. His poetry was only a part 
 of his worldly policy, to be held to or given up accord- 
 ing to its financial value. He tells us of one of his 
 poems that " sold prodigiously," and no doubt this was 
 the one that lay nearest to his heart. It was a ballad 
 on the capture of a celebrated pirate. But a Chapin's 
 gift of poetry was too real, and too intense and devoted, 
 to be calm under any but a helpful criticism, or to 
 allow a business view of its value. It was to him as 
 sacred as the Delphic Oracle to the Pythian Apollo. 
 And so, between repulsion on one side of the street and 
 attraction on the other, he came eagerly into the office 
 of the " Magazine and Advocate," and in a very cheerful 
 spirit went about his work. 
 
 Eapidly his mind and heart took on the faith of 
 which this paper was the organ ; and the dark cloud, 
 that lowered around him at Troy, now rolled away and 
 left a blue sky above his head. His conversion seems 
 to have been silent and without a strugfrle, and at once 
 he became buoyant and happy. So easily and swiftly 
 did he take to the new faith, it would almost seem that 
 without knowing it he had been a convert to it in ad- 
 vance. As the sun shines in all its glory behind the 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 55 
 
 cloud and tempest, so behind his darKened sky must 
 have beamed the star of a universal hope. In his hu- 
 manity Universalism must have been latent, even as it 
 seems to be in all love ; for the more love, the more 
 heaven and the less hell, are the order of history. 
 Hence, as the cloud was dispersed, he stood in the 
 liberal fold in full form, and at peace with himself 
 and his God. In a few wxeks he had made up his 
 mind to enter the Universalist ministry, but was wisely 
 advised by Mr. Grosli to cherish his new purpose at 
 least six months in his thoughts before taking any de- 
 cisive step toward the pulpit. 
 
 Amid this new cheer thus dawning upon him, he 
 entered the pleasant home of Eev. Mr. Grosh as a 
 boarder; and the busy editor and sermon-maker de- 
 clares that, amid his studies, he " had often to read the 
 riot act, to disperse Chapin and the children from their 
 romps." The young student was as full of sport as of 
 ambition for study. Manifesting his love of rare books, 
 it is well remembered, to this day, that " he read, sung, 
 whistled, and made puns all at the same time." It 
 was a strife between the boy and the man in him, with 
 remarkable achievements on both sides. 
 
 When he had been two months in the employ of 
 Grosh & Hutchinson, these gentlemen announced to 
 their patrons that they had engaged an assistant edi- 
 tor, and were liberal in their praise of the unnamed 
 person. In their next issue, on the 22nd of September, 
 they printed the following item : " The assistant edi- 
 tor commences his labors in advance of the next volume 
 in order that he and our readers may become somewhat 
 acquainted with each other. The careful reader will 
 
56 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 see by the initials, E. H. C, that it is the same Edwin 
 H. Chapin who furnished the Independence Hymn for 
 our cohimns in July last." Thus rapid was his pro- 
 gress, from an inquirer in this office to an assistant editor, 
 and a preacher in aim and preparation. But whatever 
 Chapin did he was under a constitutional necessity of 
 doing swiftly and with all his might. No youth or 
 man ever hammered cold iron less than he, or was 
 more disqualified for slow processes. His vision was like 
 the flash of the lightning, and his conclusions followed 
 as speedily as the reverberations that accompany the 
 electric flame. 
 
 He was twenty-two years old when he was thus pro- 
 moted to the editorial chair ; and a brief study of his 
 work, beginning with October of 1837, and ending with 
 May of 1838, will reveal some significant colors to 
 transfer to the portrait of the workman. In some of 
 his themes we recognize echoes from the academy. 
 Such are his editorials on " Day Dreams," " The Debat- 
 ing Club," and "Mixed Metaphors," in the latter of 
 which he ventured to criticise Shakespeare, accused 
 Scott of making "a royal oak cast anchor," and de- 
 clared : " I do not like to see winged creatures swim- 
 ming, nor dwellers in the deep mounting sunward, nor 
 trees walking, nor diamonds scattering perfume, and 
 the like, — for I cannot bear to see the order of nature 
 perverted even in metaphor." 
 
 Of nature he had already, in youthful prose and 
 poetry, revealed his deep appreciation and love ; but in 
 his editorials he disclosed a special interest in this di- 
 rection. It was at this period a lucky chance befel 
 him, through which he reached a degree of ecstasy in 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 57 
 
 view of the beauty and glory of the outward world. 
 In a moment of sport he put on Mr. Grosh's spectacles 
 for lengthening the too short vision, and lo ! the earth 
 and the heavens were new to him. He thus discovered 
 the secret of his near-sightedness, and that by the aid 
 of glasses a larger and a fairer world was henceforth to 
 be his. In rapture he beheld the contrast ; and for 
 months he revelled in the unproved scenery of nature, 
 making it the theme of conversation and of his elated 
 pen. ''Have our readers m this vicinity," he inquired 
 in an editorial, evidently inspired by this incident, " no- 
 ticed the appearance of the heavens these few evenings 
 past at sunset ? For our part, we have witnessed colors 
 in the firmament more splendid than ever decorated an 
 eastern palace, or glowed in dreams of fairyland. Just 
 at the going down of the sun, there have shot athwart 
 the western sky all beautiful hues, strange and gor- 
 geous, emerald and crimson, and varied tints, as if the 
 robes of angels had been flung over the battlement of 
 the far heavens, or else 
 
 ' The home 
 And fountain of the rainbow were revealed.' " 
 
 A similar thrill of joy is in all the periods of this 
 composition, as if the sense of new riches had just been 
 stirred within him. In a more thoughtful but not less 
 grateful strain, he soon wrote an editorial on the text in 
 Genesis, "and there was light." "Ah ! what a moment 
 must that have been," he exclaimed, " when first the 
 clear, glad light broke over the earth which before had 
 been ' without form and void,' and which dispelled the 
 darkness that until then had rested 'on the face of the 
 deep.' Then sprang into existence beauty, life, and 
 
58 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 joy." In a brief season a poem burst from his soul on 
 
 " The Waters," in which he vividly and fondly painted 
 
 their' changing aspects. The first lines of some of the 
 
 stanzas will sufficiently mdicate the range and rapture 
 
 of his vision : — 
 
 " Oh ! mighty are the waters ; " 
 
 " Oh ! lovely are the waters ; " 
 
 "Oh ! glorious are the waters ; " 
 
 " Oh ! pleasant are the waters. " 
 
 But in religion Chapin revealed himself in these 
 editorial months in a light at once strange and almost 
 unaccountable. With surprise at least, if not with a 
 degree of wonder, we contemplate his attitude. A new 
 convert, he scarcely made a reference to the doctrine 
 he had embraced, of the final salvation of all souls, 
 and wrote not a word in defence of it. Meanwhile 
 he wrote an editorial parrying "A Eecent Attack on 
 Phrenology," and another in advocacy of that science. 
 When most young men, newly converted and full of 
 the spirit of championship, would have rushed into the 
 thick of the theological strife, marshalling the argu- 
 ments pro and con, he stood serenely above the militant 
 arena, and seemed indeed to be quite unconscious of it. 
 Shall we, therefore, doubt the fact of his conversion ? 
 Not at all. In hints and implications his Universalism 
 is too evident to be called in question. And, moreover, 
 the native honor of the young man would have forbid- 
 den his holding a place in form which he did not hold 
 in spirit. In fact, a Sir Walter Ealeigh was not more 
 the soul of honor than was Edwin Chapin, and his 
 good conscience would not have suffered him to stand 
 before the. Universalist public as one of its rank and 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 59 
 
 file, as he surely did stand, nor to meditate entering its 
 ministry, if the faith had not taken the form of a 
 conviction and possessed his heart. Another point in 
 evidence of his conversion to the doctrine is found in 
 the fact that Mr. Grosh, who knew best the secrets of 
 his associate's mind, had no doubt of his acceptance 
 of this faith. Indeed, such a doubt would have barred 
 Chapin from the seat he was - daily occupying in the 
 office, and to which he was welcomed with pride. 
 
 How then shall we account for the fact that his pen, 
 left to the largest liberty, wrote not a paragraph nor 
 period in defence or advocacy of his new faith ? It may 
 be said he saw an excess, instead of a lack, of this kind 
 of writing in the paper he was engaged on ; and that he 
 refrained from a needless performance, and sought to 
 supply a department for which he had a special gift 
 beyond any contributor to its columns. In this view of 
 the case there may be a degree of truth. And it may 
 also be said, he felt his crudeness as a young convert, 
 and modestly and wisely yielded to the senior editor the 
 offices of debate and exegesis, for which he was emi- 
 nently fitted. Mr. Grosh had advised him to cherish 
 his new faith in his thoughts at least six months before 
 presuming to preach it, and says : " I think he saw the 
 propriety of my views abovit his preaching, and applied 
 it to his waiting and publishing also. " 
 
 But while these explanations may in part explain the 
 silence in question, there can be little doubt that the 
 main cause of it will be found in the very constitution 
 of Chapin' s inner life. His course at that time differed 
 not from his method in all the subsequent years of his 
 life. The same general silence about Universalism as 
 
60 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 a doctrine ever characterized him. When he finally- 
 parted from this paper, so full of argument and exe- 
 gesis, and went to his ministry where the faith was 
 little known, and his own mind had time to ripen out 
 of crudeness, still was the same silence maintained ; 
 and to the end of his days he rarely touched on this 
 special theme. Hence it is probable that his reticence 
 from beginning to end had a common source, and that 
 source, no doubt, was in himself ; as every great silence 
 or great utterance has its condition in the soul. In his 
 supreme interest in life as a present reality, by reason 
 of his living it so intensely and greatly, his interest in 
 any theory of its future became a comparatively subor- 
 dinate thing. The richness of its possession drew his 
 thoughts from its prospects. To-day stood as a tower- 
 ing mountain before which to-morrow was hidden, and 
 only at wide intervals did his mind fly over to contem- 
 plate the unseen vales and the yet higher mountains 
 that might lie beyond. In present life he was absorbed, 
 — his nature bred it so rapidly and m such volumes 
 through his contacts with nature and man and books 
 and religion ; and hence he wrote repeated editorials, in 
 eloquent and urgent terms, on " The Spirit of Eeligion," 
 but only incidentally treated of the hope it brings to 
 man. Not rejecting the latter, he dwelt more con- 
 stantly and ardently on the former. Early and late, 
 this was his genius and his order of work. In short, 
 he was a disciple and advocate of those practical prin- 
 ciples of religion that are common to all the orders, 
 that address all souls, and that stand free from the 
 strifes that rage on the arena of controversial theology. 
 Hence, in one of the editorials above referred to, he 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 61 
 
 wrote : " The banner we plant on our ramparts should 
 not be the banner of a sect, the banner of a party, but 
 the banner of Christ, the banner of salvation ; and in 
 our midst should be altars and prayers, and strivings 
 for spiritual strength and the spirit of religion." In 
 another of this series of articles he wrote : " Brethren, 
 practical religion is the great essential of Christianity. 
 We may toil, we may strive, we may work merely to 
 build up a sect, — and yet, what boots it all ? It is 
 far better to have brought one stray sheep back to the 
 Shepheid's Fold, to have turned the footsteps of one 
 Prodigal homeward to his Father, to have poured' 
 light and gladness on the path of one sin-darkened 
 wanderer. '' 
 
 Hence his remarkable reticence was not a policy 
 based on the conditions of the hour so much as it was 
 an outgrowth from his own nature. In the spirit of 
 religion, and not in its theory, was his supreme interest. 
 Before expectation he ranked experience, and wrote 
 and spoke, from first to last, in the interest of a present 
 salvation. 
 
 During these months of editorial work, Chapin ne- 
 glected not to cultivate his oratorical gift. In the 
 Berean Society — a company of young people who 
 met once a week on winter evenings, in the Universalist 
 Church, to discuss religious and social topics, and to 
 read a paper of original contributions by its members — 
 the young editor stood witliout a peer as a writer and 
 speaker. In both wit and wisdom he excelled, and his 
 fervent voice was without a rival Across the sweep of 
 forty years comes the remembrance of some of his 
 speeches. One on Slavery is said to have awakened all 
 
62 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the thunders of eloquence which were pent up in his 
 being. One of his efforts has passed into tradition 
 as his " tearing speech." The honor of closing a de- 
 bate had been accorded to him, and for some reason he 
 came to his task wearing a friend's coat, which was too 
 small for him. His friend saw the peril of the garment, 
 and secretly hoped it would not be equal to the strain 
 to which the orator in an excited moment would put it. 
 His hope was fulfilled. • In the midst of a stormy cli- 
 max, a rent was made in the garment, and its owner 
 whispered aloud to the Boanerges, " Chapin, you are 
 ripping my coat'" "Well, let her rip," quickly re- 
 sponded the mtended victim of the joke, and then 
 added, with raised voice and expanded gesture, a free 
 rendering of Sewall's famous couplet : — 
 
 " No pent-up Utica sliall contract my powers ; 
 But tlie whole boundless continent is ours." 
 
 Another tear was the result of the frantic gesture, 
 and a hearty applaiise rewarded the mishap. 
 
 At length the six months wherein he was silently to 
 cherish his purpose to preach had passed away, and, 
 encouraged by Mr. Grosh, who now understood him 
 and confided in him, he made ready his first sermon. 
 But his hilarious habits, his obtrusive levity, — more 
 obvious to the people than his secret devotions, though 
 not more real to him, — had awakened distrust of his 
 fitness for the pulpit ; and one and another went to his 
 teacher to file their remonstrance. Tliey dreaded com- 
 edy in the sacred desk. They did not desire to have 
 the people, in the high hour of the Sunday service, 
 mortified with a piece of wit, instead of lifted up and 
 
LIFE AT UTICA. 63 
 
 blessed by a serious deportment and a reverent dis- 
 course. But Mr. Grosli knew better than they the 
 deeper gravity of the young man, and urged him on to 
 his sacred calling. He knew the supremacy of the so- 
 berer side of Chapiu's life, and that when engaged in a 
 divine service his exuberant wit would be as if it were 
 not ; and hence he encouraged his clerical aim. 
 
 On the 9th of March, 1838, the senior editor informed 
 his readers of the accession of a young man to the min- 
 istry, and then added, " I think I may promise the an- 
 nunciation of another next week. Will our readers 
 keep their ears open to hear it ? " A week later the 
 awakened curiosity was allayed by the printmg of the 
 following item in the " Magazine and Advocate -. " — 
 
 " Last Sunday Brother E. H. Chapin, our worthy associate, 
 delivered his first sermon in Spencer's schoolhouse, Litch- 
 field, to the congregation to wliich Brother McAdam statedly 
 ministers. Those who heard it speak of it as very creditable 
 to him, both in manner and matter ; and wlieu we say to 
 our readers that he is as good in the former as in the latter, 
 they will know what that encomium means. We anticipate 
 a course of usefulness and honor for our friend, and pray 
 that the divine blessing may ever rest on him and his 
 labors." 
 
 Thus the devout youth and the born prince of oratory 
 mounted his real throne — the pulpit. As the star 
 finds its orbit, and moves gloriously in it, so had he 
 found his true sphere, and easily rose to great useful- 
 ness and fame. In the following May he left Utica 
 for Richmond, Virginia, and entered upon his first 
 pastorate. 
 
VI. 
 
 SETTLEMENT IN EICHMOND. 
 
 In May of 1838 Edwin H. Chapin went to Eich- 
 mond, Virginia, to begin his work as a minister of the 
 Gospel. In two months from the preaching of his first 
 sermon he assumed the responsibility of a pulpit and a 
 parish. With no college or theological school behind 
 him, from which he had brought the helpful resources 
 of discipline and well directed reading, he entered upon 
 his task in utter self-dependence, — or leanmg only on 
 himself and his God, in whom his native trust had but 
 ripened with the passing years. 
 
 He was now twenty-three years old, not bulky in 
 person as in after-life, but plump, and then, as ever, 
 averse to physical exercise, save as the aroused spirit 
 compelled the flesh. His life w^as from above down- 
 ward, not from below upward, and his body waited on 
 his soul. With his arms and legs he was awkward, 
 and his fingers were all thumbs. But his eye was deep 
 and glowmg, his face mobile and earnest, his voice to a 
 rare degree powerful and rich ; and in character he was 
 modest to bashfulness, jovial to the point of being bois- 
 terous and putting the proprieties in peril, religious as a 
 Eenelon, full of tenderness and magnanimity as a Wil- 
 liam Penn, and with the soul of honor like a Channmg. 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 65 
 
 He was a rare specimen of consecrated and magnetic 
 young manhood, carrying in his gifts better resources 
 than the schools can confer ; and thus armed in him- 
 self, though unequipped from the armories from which 
 the young minister usually starts out on his warfare, he 
 at once rose to conspicuous popularity. 
 
 He had, however, one acquired source of success, to 
 which many mmisters, young and old, are quite indiffer- 
 ent, — he brought to his task the helps and honors of 
 literature. Of the great books he had been a good 
 reader from his earUest years, and their aidful power 
 was upon him. Xo mean educators for the pulpit 
 are the poets, since in them is the genius that kin- 
 dles the gifts that open into a happy rhetoric and a 
 moving eloquence, while they inculcate a rehgion that 
 is Inroad and divine, a synthesis of the more universal 
 ideas and sentiments of the kingdom of God. 
 
 Beyond any two professors of theology in the English 
 realm, have Coleridge and Wordsworth been the teachers 
 and inspirers of those English clergymen who, in our 
 time, have attained to the finest spiritual insights, 
 opened out to the Church the best views of religion, and 
 touched the popular heart with the truest fire of elo- 
 quence. It is the high office and the mission of litera- 
 ture to give freedom to the mind, elevation to the 
 tastes, range and vividness to the imagination, facility 
 to the tongue and pen ; while the books on theology too 
 often cramp and damage the talents that should appear 
 in the sermon, and turn the pulpit from a "lively ora- 
 cle " to a dispenser of sleep and death. In the literary 
 department of culture, thus helpful to the minister, 
 young Chapin was strong ; and his magnetic manhood, 
 
 5 
 
66 LIFE OF EDWIN IT. CHAPIN. 
 
 thus panoplied, bore him on to an easy and remarkable 
 victory in the proclamation of a plain morality and a 
 broad and simple piety. At once the best minds in 
 Eichmond felt his sway, and his chastened and charged 
 wand drew the intelligent crowd around him. 
 
 Not without surprise and wonder can any one trace 
 his career through the brief two and a half years of his 
 Eichmond ministry. The honor of being the first ora- 
 tor in the South, a realm full of orators, was accorded 
 to him by such men as Thomas Eitchie of the " Eichmond 
 Enquirer." In two months after his advent in the city, 
 he preached in his own church a Fourth-of-July dis- 
 course, which was published and favorably noticed in 
 the " Eichmond Compiler." Aware of the prejudice that 
 would then exist against a stranger from the North, he 
 conciliated that prejudice, with the skill of a veteran 
 orator, as follows : — 
 
 " Fellow-citizens, I have stood by the grave of the first 
 martyr of liberty at Lexington, and my feet have pressed the 
 green sod of Bunker's Hill. Several years of my life have 
 been passed near the field of Bennington, where the brave 
 mountaineers defeated the Briton, and gave the first impulse 
 to those successes which resulted in victory. And now I am 
 far from my birthplace, in your clime of the Sunny South. 
 Yet I am not an alien here. I can look proudly around me 
 and exclaim, 
 
 'This is my own, my native land.' 
 
 I am yet surrounded with monuments of my country's fame. 
 I stand in a place hallowed by great names of my nation. I 
 am in the vicinity of Yorktown, crowned with the glory of 
 triumph. I am in tlie home and birtliplace of Lee and 
 Henry and Jefferson and Madison and Marshall ! I am on 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 67 
 
 the soil that embosoms the ashes of Washington. You are 
 proud of these ; so am I, — what American is not 1 " 
 
 What a vantage ground lie thus won to himself, from 
 which to discuss the unity of the nation, and the condi- 
 tions of its greatness and peace ! They who heard his 
 oration were entranced, and they who read it were edi- 
 fied ; and when Independence Day again came round, 
 many of the foremost citizens honored the young orator 
 with an invitation to address the public on such a 
 national theme as he might choose. He accepted the 
 invitation, and in the First Baptist Church — so writes 
 the Hon. Henry K. Ellyson, now of the " Eichmond De- 
 spatch" — "he delivered to an immense assemblage of 
 our people one of the most eloquent Fourth-of-July 
 orations ever heard by them." Mr. Thomas Eitchie 
 pronounced it " the finest oration to which he had ever 
 listened." When it finally came into print, in answer 
 to a wide demand, the editor of the " Southern Literary 
 Messenger," an ably conducted magazine, " devoted to 
 every part of hterature and the fine arts," thus noticed 
 it in his columns : " We were so fortunate as to hear 
 Mr. Chapiu deliver his address to a numerous and de- 
 lighted auditory, and, charmed as we were on the occa- 
 sion, we were somewhat disposed to ascribe a part of 
 the thrilling effect to the fine elocution of the orator. 
 Having given it, however, an attentive reading since its 
 appearance in type, justice requires the acknowledg- 
 ment that the high praise bestowed upon the perform- 
 ance is due to its intrinsic merits. Mr. Chapin's 
 style is unique and graphic. He represents to the 
 mind's eye a succession of vivid pictures, which are 
 warm with life and redolent of beauty. He narrates 
 
68 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 events with remarkable power, — grouping all their 
 strikmg incidents with such force and effect as to en- 
 chain the listener's .attention irresistibly." Thus had 
 he fired the hearts of these eloqueuce-loving Southrons 
 by his youthful oratory, and they were loud in their 
 praise of his gift. 
 
 AVith an oratory thus kindled by the love of great 
 and useful principles, and commended by a fine lite- 
 rary taste, Chapin was soon brought to the Lyceum 
 platform. -The Lyceum was then in its infancy, the first 
 organization of the kind having been founded in 1826 
 by Josiah Holbrook, of Connecticut, who finally became 
 a Lyceum fanatic and projected in Ohio a debating 
 village which he named Berea. But the spirit of the 
 colonized debaters for their chosen calling soon expired, 
 and, mstead of a town of wranglers, Berea became a 
 hamlet of peaceful citizens. " A convention was held 
 in Boston, November 7, 1828, to promote the interests 
 of the lyceums, and to further their wide-spread organ- 
 ization. Among those who took part in this meeting 
 were Webster, Everett, Dr. Lowell, and George B. Em- 
 erson." In 1838 a lyceum was instituted in Eichmond, 
 and on the 3d of April, 1839, Chapin gave its anni- 
 versary address in the State Capitol. But before this 
 he had been called to the lecture platform in this city 
 in a way that touched his heart and made a fixed im- 
 pression on his memory. This call came from the Eev. 
 E. L. Magoon, now of national fame as a Baptist min- 
 ister and an author. Magoon, Chapin, and others, 
 looking to the public good and seeking also a vent for 
 their pent-up fires, " started a course of popular lec- 
 tures, each speaker to provide his own arena and illu- 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 69 
 
 minate all comers gratis." Each orator was to furnish 
 eloquence and pay the bills. Cliapin gave his lecture 
 in his own church, to an audience that crowded its 
 limited space, and his effort was a triumph in every 
 particular. Its theme was lofty, its treatment thought- 
 ful and touched with a happy literary embellishment, 
 and its delivery earnest and overpowering. " One of 
 the hearers," writes JNIr. Magoon, " then a young and 
 obscure mechanic, now the distinguished co-proprietor 
 of the 'Ptichmond Despatch' (Henry K. Ellyson), said 
 to me, ' That lecture by Chapin was really great, and 
 should be repeated before a larger assemblage.' ' Very 
 well,' said I, ' let him come to the Second Baptist Church 
 next Monday evening, and we will all endeavor to se- 
 cure him a worthy audience.' " By this novel and lib- 
 eral proffer the public heart was touched and won, and 
 the people flocked to hear the young orator. But the 
 heart most affected was his own, and never was he 
 more eloquent than in this hour of generous recognition. 
 " It was the oratory of a noble child of God," says Ma- 
 goon ; and the occasion was ever looked back to by 
 Chapin as the first round in the ladder of his ascent as 
 a lecturer. He was wont to refer to Mr. Magoon as 
 " the father of his fame." We may well confess the 
 generosity of this Baptist hand that thus swung open 
 the gate leading to the lecture platform ; but, had it 
 been withheld, the orator's gifts would at an early day 
 have burst every barrier and carried him in triumph 
 before the lyceums from Piichmond to Montreal, from 
 Boston to St. Louis. 
 
 Before the lyceum assembled in the State Capitol 
 he said : " I lay down as the motto of my discourse 
 
70 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the broad maxim that intelligence is essentially requi- 
 site to the prosperity of a nation." He defined pros- 
 perity to be " all that relates to progress, happiness, and 
 safety ; " and the intelligence that would master these 
 high ends he set forth as " the clear perception of truth 
 and duty, and the universal diffusion of that percep- 
 tion." From an able treatment of these propositions, 
 he passed to a discussion of the methods by which in- 
 telligence may be disseminated. 
 
 To a key thus lofty was his voice pitched in this first 
 lyceum lecture, and it was never afterward lowered by 
 a tone. To him the platform and the pulpit stood for 
 a common mission. They who lieard him twenty years 
 from this date will have no trouble in detecting his 
 identity in the following passage from his lecture in 
 the Virginia Capitol : "A man is not now, like the 
 athlete of old, distinguished by his physical superiority, — 
 by his speed in the race, his power in the pugilistic com- 
 bat, his precision in guiding the chariot steeds, or his 
 skill in hurling the swift javelin, — but he has a part to 
 perform in the intellectual arena, if he would come out 
 from /)blivion and become an acting portion of the age ; 
 and well should he be girded and prepared for the task. 
 That mighty weapon, reason, should be ever ready and 
 briglit in his hands, and he should exercise and inure 
 himself to the conflict of mind with mind." 
 
 Before the Madison Debating Society of Eichmond, 
 in 1840, he gave a lecture on " True Greatness," which 
 was published in pamphlet by the society. Apart from 
 usefulness he claimed there could be no true great- 
 ness, and ended his plea for virtue and love, as the 
 needed inspirers of talent, with the following appeal : 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 71 
 
 " Strive, then, after true greatness, my friends. Strive 
 for the welfare of humanity. Labor in your vocations, 
 whatever they may be, but do not shut up your sympa- 
 thies within the narrow limit of self; let them flow 
 out, broadly and warmly, for the race. Act for your 
 country, for duty, for God ; and may you enjoy the 
 blessed experience of the truth that usefulness is the 
 test of true greatness." 
 
 But Chapin's great work at Eichmond was in his 
 pulpit and his parish. From May to September he 
 preached without ordination. In the latter month he 
 went North to take on himself two of the great vows 
 that man is permitted to assume, — the marriage vow 
 and the ordination vow, — in the one of which he pledges 
 love and devotion to a woman, and in the other fealty 
 to God and religion. At a conference of the New York 
 Central Association held in Knoxville, Madison County, 
 on the 26th and 27th of September, 1838, he received 
 a letter of fellowship and ordination. The sessions 
 were on Wednesday and Thursday, and at one of the 
 earlier meetings Chapin had preached with great effect, 
 and was appointed by general request to give the 
 " Addresses " at the close of the Conference. The 
 ordination took place on Thursday afternoon. Eev. D. 
 Biddlecom read the Scripture and offered an invocation. 
 Eev. A. B. Grosh, the special friend and teacher of the 
 candidate, preached a sermon from the words of Paul 
 to Timothy : " Preach the word ; be instant in season, 
 out of season ; reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long- 
 suffering and doctrine." Eev. Job Potter prayed the 
 prayer of Ordination. Mr. Grosh delivered the Scrip- 
 tures and Charge. Eev. M. B. Smith gave the Eight 
 
72 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Hand of Fellowship in behalf of the churches. Then 
 followed the Addresses by Rev. E. H. Chapin. 
 
 " These addresses," writes Mr. Grosh, " were custo- 
 mary at all the Associations of that day, and concluded 
 the meetmgs. They were made — 1st, to the preachers; 
 2d, to the delegates ; 3d, to the congregation ; 4tli, to 
 the church or society ; 5th, to the choir. They gener- 
 ally embraced contrasts of present with past conditions 
 of the cause, — sometimes reminiscences of persons and 
 events of note, — exhortations to duty, diligence, &c., to 
 go home and apply the lessons taught and the plans 
 laid out by the meeting. They were intended to inspire 
 brotherly love, zeal, enthusiasm, and afforded an oppor- 
 tunity for an eloquent speaker to make the close of the 
 feast its choicest portion." It w^as in the deliverance 
 of these addresses that Chapin's voice was first heard 
 as an ordained minister ; and to this day are well re- 
 membered the inspiration and power of his utterance. 
 To strong and glowing thoughts he added a spirit of 
 tender devoutness, which gave a signal prophecy of his 
 future usefulness. 
 
 In a few days after his ordination he was married at 
 Utica. The record of the event is here quoted from the 
 "Magazme and Advocate." "In this city, on the 15th 
 inst., by Eev. A. B. Grosh, Eev. E. H. Chapin, corres- 
 ponding editor of this paper, and pastor of the First 
 Congregational Church of Christ, in Richmond, Va., 
 to Miss Hannah Newland, of this city." To this wor- 
 thy young woman, as sound in judgment as devoted in 
 her affection, he had been introduced by Mr. Hutchin- 
 son, who first gave him a welcome, in his little book- 
 store, to Universalist books ; and to the end of his life 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 73 
 
 both the woman and the Universalism were his constant 
 and beloved companions. 
 
 Eeturning to Eichmond from his eventful journey to 
 the North, he bent his energies almost exclusively to 
 pulpit and parish work. He was at once missed by the 
 readers of the " Magazme and Advocate," who had 
 come to look with desire each week for the light that 
 shone from this brilliant star ; and Mr. Grosh, in mak- 
 ing his December promises to his patrons in view of a 
 new volume, expressed the "hope that Br. Chapin's 
 contributions will be more frequently visible than they 
 have been during the honeymoon. " But his hope was 
 in vam. The young man had found another bride that 
 shared also the rapt devotions of his heart. The rival 
 queen was Eloquence ; and from the path along which 
 she led him he could not turn aside then, nor ever 
 after. From that time to the end of his days his pen 
 was mainly the servant of his voice. In the preacher 
 was absorbed the writer. He moulded his style for 
 delivery, and suited his periods to the public ear. Aside 
 from a few poems and hymns and brief editorials that 
 the years drew from him, he wrote henceforth only 
 sermons and lectures. But no one can doubt that in 
 thus narrowing the tides that poured from his inner 
 life, he gave to them greater depth and power. Sacri- 
 ficing poetry and essay and narrative to the sermon, he 
 became the more effective in the pulpit ; and the crowd 
 was soon drawn to his church as by an irresistible 
 magnet. 
 
 In the two and a half years at Eichmond he wrote 
 and preached a course of lectures and some practical ser- 
 mons, which, with slight revisions, were finally published 
 
74 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 in two volumes, and have found readers and admirers in 
 all denominations. They were his " Lectures to Young 
 Men," and " Discourses on Various Subjects. " In these 
 volumes we have ample evidence that his was a re- 
 markable ministry for a young man on whom the schools 
 had conferred little aid. Only a rare greatness could 
 have risen to such triumphs. It will not be easy to 
 find, in all the history of pulpit orators, a parallel 
 to this victory -of the years between twenty-three and 
 twenty-seven. 
 
 The popular tract from his pen — " "What Univer- 
 salism is not " — is one of his Eichmond sermons, and 
 shows his full acceptance of the doctrine of the salva- 
 tion of all souls. The sermon had this more positive 
 title : " Universalism ; what it is not, and what it is. " 
 Having informed his hearers that " Universalism is not 
 Atheism," "is not Skepticism," "is not Deism," "is 
 not a doctrine which instructs its followers to make 
 light of sin," "is not a doctrine which teaches that the 
 sinner may pass unchanged to heaven and happiness, " 
 and " is not a doctrine which teaches that man shall 
 be saved from punishment," he turned to inform them 
 what this doctrine is. " It is a doctrine, " he said, 
 " which teaches that all mankind will finally be saved 
 from sin and its consequent misery. This is an impor- 
 tant sentence in our discourse, for it is a position of 
 which our opponents seem not generally aware. Be it 
 remembered that we do not enter the arena of discus- 
 sion to argue against punishment, — against future 
 punishment, — but against the endless duration of sin 
 and misery. "We do not believe that evil is ultimate 
 in the government of God. We believe there will be 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 75 
 
 a period when the last enemy shall be destroyed, — 
 when man shall bow in moral subjection to his Maker, 
 and worship Him in the ' beauty of holiness. ' " 
 
 Not without a great debate and struggle with his 
 heart, we may well believe, did Chapin withdraw his 
 facile pen from inditing poems and writing editorials, 
 for which it had a strong bias. For the haunt of the 
 muse and for the newspaper office he shared a great 
 love, and could only forsake them reluctantly, as one 
 whose judgment compels his inclination. For the 
 " Literary Messenger " he furnished a poem now and 
 then, as if to ease his lyric passion, and in a quiet way 
 stole into the publishing sanctum to do a little editing. 
 For this interest and aid Mr. White, the publisher, felt 
 truly grateful, and to the stipulated compensation, if 
 there were such, he added the gift of a gold watch and 
 chain. 
 
 Meanwhile Chapin had issued the prospectus of a 
 religious journal to be called the " Independent Chris- 
 tian," The ideal of a platform broader than a sect 
 haunted him. His chief interest was in those more 
 spiritual and vital ideas of religion common to all the 
 orders, and he conceived and put forth the plan of a 
 paper that should especially recognize and urge these 
 views. In the era of general narrowness he was a 
 broad-church man, and sighed to reach a hand across 
 every partition wall and, in a hearty fellowship, grasp 
 the hand of every one who held with him the great 
 essentials of Christianity. But he was as one born out 
 of due time. He was too early for a movement of this 
 sort. " The patronage promised, " writes Eev. J. C. 
 Burrus, of the " Notasulga Herald," *' did not justify 
 
76 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the undertaking, " and the beautiful vision of a religious 
 journal of that scope faded from his broad and ardent 
 soul. But he still kept his faith in the idea and the 
 spirit he would thus advocate ; and, often urging the 
 theme in after years, but never seeing his bright dream 
 take the form of reality, he finally, amid the even- 
 ing shadows of his life-day, turned to the " festival of 
 redeemed souls, wdiere there shall be no sect names, no 
 party names ; where, through God's grace and Christ's 
 victory, we shall know one another, not by sectarian 
 symbols, but the white robe and the palm ; where there 
 are no congregations but only one congregation ; where 
 there are no pastors or people, but one great flock, and 
 one fold and one Shepherd." 
 
 In these early years, as ever after, he kept up his 
 interest in great and good books ; but he read literature 
 as a preacher of the gospel, that he might draw from its 
 rich resources wisdom and ornament for his sermons, 
 and the influences that should kindle the gifts of in- 
 sight and eloquence in his own nature. He knew the 
 value of genius to awaken genius. He knew the stim- 
 ulating air of Parnassus, and the inspiration to be 
 found in the groves where the wise ones have medi- 
 tated. He had thus early caught the book fever. On 
 the 2nd of May, 1840, he wrote to Eichard Frothing- 
 ham, Jr., of Massachusetts, the well known historian 
 of the " Siege of Boston : " "I have succeeded in pro- 
 curing a copy of Bolingbroke's philosophical works. I 
 procured four volumes at auction, and, strange to tell, 
 happened to have the odd volume that just supplied 
 the break m the set. I see occasionally, in the Boston 
 papers, a sale of old books advertised that makes my 
 
SETTLEMENT IN RICHMOND. 77 
 
 mouth water." A few months later than this he sent 
 this chatty paragraph in a letter to the same friend : — 
 
 " So much for more serious matters of business. Xow for 
 a little literary chat. Have you bought any new books 
 lately ] I have purchased Bronson's ' Charles EUwood ' and 
 Guizot's ' Washington,' and I have also sent for Guizot's 
 ' English Eevolution ' — though whether I shall retain this 
 latter, or sell it to a friend in Richmond or to the library of 
 the Richmond Lyceum, I do not know. It is my intention 
 to make a special study of the history of England from the 
 Reformation to the departure of tlie Pilgrims, or rather to the 
 Revolution of 1688 ; and there to take up the annals of our 
 own country. A period fraught with great principles and 
 brUliant events bearing on human progress, — is it not 1 I 
 also intend to study particularly the character of Cromwell. 
 1 think the results would furnish valuable matter for a couple 
 of lyceum lectures. It is my intention this winter to deliver 
 a course of six lectures, probably Sabbath evenings, to busi- 
 ness men. "What do you think of the project ? I have 
 been reading with some interest ' Sartor Resartus.' I am 
 pleased with it. There is a good paper in the last ' Christian 
 Examiner ' on ' The Pulpit,' containing hints which in my 
 sphere, such as it is, I will endeavor to practise upon. Have 
 you read it? In the July number of the same periodical 
 Mr. Ellis has a fine article on ' Christian Antiquities in Rome.' 
 You have read the * Dial ' I presume. What think you of it 1 
 And how comes on the 'History of Charlestown 1 ' And do 
 you still cling to the idea that there can be no such thing as 
 a ' tyranny of the majority 1 ' I hope you do ; it will be a 
 fine bone to be picked between us." 
 
 However much Eichmond honored and loved her 
 young minister, his fame could not be limited to her 
 borders. There is good evidence that the eye of Abel 
 
78 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Tompkins of Boston, ever on the watch for a facile pen 
 to contribute matter for him to prmt in magazine or 
 book, and on the lookout for any superior preacher that 
 might arise in the order, was first turned from New 
 England to this glowing star in the southern sky. 
 Visiting Washington in the early part of 1839, he made 
 a flying trip to Eichmond to see Chapin. Like fore- 
 ordained friends the two men met. The mutual re- 
 spect fostered at a distance flamed into a swift and 
 abiding affection ; and, writing to a friend, Chapin said, 
 " I have seen Tompkins and found hmi a man after my 
 heart." From this date it became one of the evident 
 events of the near future that Chapin would be called 
 to Boston or vicinity. The strife between the two 
 regions soon began, and Eichmond had finally to yield 
 in the unequal contest. But to this day she remem- 
 bers and honors her eloquent young preacher. Gladly 
 would she have kept him, but she held not back her 
 parting blessing as he passed from her borders to toil 
 in a wider field. 
 
VII. 
 
 MINISTEY IN CHAELESTOWK 
 
 In September of 1839 the General Convention of 
 Universalists met in Portland, Maine. From his South- 
 ern home to this Northern city ]\Ir. Chapin journeyed 
 by stage and boat, to attend the meetings of this body, 
 and to bring himself into a more direct fellowship with 
 the ministers and the people whom he had only greeted 
 from his distant isolation, with his pen. Dusty and 
 weary he arrived in Boston on the 13th inst., not a stran- 
 ger in the city, since here he had spent some of his 
 youthful years, but a stranger to the friends he was to 
 meet. It was a day of grief in our borders, for iu 
 Charlestown was reposing in the silence and majesty 
 of death, and waiting the solemn hour of burial, the 
 body of the Eev. Thomas F. King, the beloved pastor 
 of the Universalist Church in that city, the father of the 
 brilliant Starr King, and the friend of truth and hu- 
 manity. The hour came, and with it " a spontaneous 
 closing of the places of business, an impressive service 
 in the church, a great funeral procession, and a gather- 
 ing of thousands on the ancient burial-mound of Charles- 
 town." On the fresh grave of a pastor, no warmer or 
 more grateful tears were ever shed. 
 
 " On the evening of the day of this scene," says Eich- 
 ard Frothingham, Jr., in his " Tribute to Thomas Starr 
 
80 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 King," "a young man, a stranger in the place, occu- 
 pied the vacant pulpit, and discoursed of Faith ; and, 
 as the church was draped in mourning for the recent 
 bereavement, the lesson was enforced with uncommon 
 effect. The preacher followed his manuscript until 
 near the close of his sermon, wdien, summoning the 
 event of the hour for illustration, he left his notes and 
 abandoned himself to his theme; then .his deep rich 
 voice was full of emotion and had a pathos and power 
 which thrilled the large and breathless assembly. It 
 was eloquence, for it was inspiration of soul." This 
 eloquent young man was Edwin H. Chapin. So eager 
 were Abel Tomkins and others to listen to the charm 
 and power of his voice and to feel the magnetic sway* of 
 his soul, the fame of whicli had arrived in advance, that 
 even in the midst of their sorrow, when silence and 
 meditation would have been the more natural, they 
 were moved to call an extra meeting and solicit a ser- 
 mon from the Eichmond pastor. 
 
 He gave his consent to preach. The evening brought 
 a full church. But the demand of the hour was special, 
 since the great shadow was still resting on the people, 
 and every heart was in such a tender mood that no vio- 
 lence should be done to it. Only in the spirit of the 
 day could an evening service be fitly made ; but if thus 
 made, having the emphasis of the previous service in 
 its favor, it could not fail of a marked effect. By both 
 instinct and judgment the preacher struck the true key- 
 note for the hour, and made a music that comforted 
 and cheered the souls who listened to it. If the strain 
 rose to majesty, it also fell to the tenderest pathos. By 
 his strong and vivid treatment of Faith, and especially 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 81 
 
 by turning the far-shining beams of this divine light on 
 the glorified form of their late pastor and friend, he 
 filled his hearers with a comfort and peace which were 
 only equalled by their gratitude and admiration. 
 
 It was thus in a chance hour that he won a vacant 
 pulpit, in which, with the elder King as his predecessor 
 and the younger King as his successor, it was an honor 
 to stand. 
 
 But the place he had won he did not occupy until 
 the December of the following year, fifteen months 
 from the date of his first sermon. The overture of the 
 parish, made with little delay and great emphasis, was 
 readily accepted by his heart, but did not draw his 
 conscience into a prompt consent. He would deal hon- 
 orably by Eichmond. He was less the servant of in- 
 clination than of duty. On the 4th of November, 
 James K. Frothingham, " chairman of the Committee of 
 the Universalist Society in Charlestown," addressed 
 him m these terms : — 
 
 "Many of our members, who heard your discourse on the 
 evening after the funeral of our late Rev. Bro. King, have ex- 
 pressed a desire of hearing you again and of becoming better 
 acquainted with you ; and the committee have instructed me 
 to communicate this to you Avith a view of learning wliether 
 your situation and engagements will admit of your visiting 
 us and preaching to us several Sundays, — and, if so, how early 
 and for what length of time, — hoping that a better acquain- 
 tance with each other may be the means of establishing a 
 more intimate relation between us." 
 
 Seven days later Chapin replied from Eichmond : 
 " I will visit you as proposed, if practicable, in the 
 month of January. It is, however, doubtful whether I 
 
 6 
 
82 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPINT. 
 
 shall be able to do so. As I am situated at some dis- 
 tance from any ministering brother, there will be some 
 difficulty in making an arrangement by which I can 
 supply iny pulpit during my absence, and unless I can, 
 I shall be unable to leave." 
 
 On the first of January he found liimself in the midst 
 of a course of Lectures to Young Men, which had 
 awakened great interest and drawn a crowd of young 
 people to hear them. He now felt the pressvire on him 
 of a duty on behalf of the public. A flowing tide he 
 would not permit to ebb. Hence he wrote to the 
 friends in Charlestown to " Set me down for the first 
 three Sundays in February, and expect me this time to 
 fulfil my appointment, unless I am disappointed in my 
 reasonable expectation of obtaining a supply. I hope 
 your patience will not be wearied by this postponement. 
 In your goodly land of ministers, you can hardly realize 
 the difficulties which attend the catclmig of a stray one 
 m this isolated region." 
 
 On the first of February he arrived in Charlestown, 
 having arranged for three Sundays' absence from his 
 home. The fame of his Lectures to Youns Men 
 had created a desire on the part of the Charlestown 
 friends to hear them ; and it was finally decided that 
 he should give three of them on the Sunday evenings 
 and the remaining three on the Thursday evenings of 
 his stay in the city. In thought these lectures were 
 brilliant as cut diamonds, in sentiment they were noble 
 and elevating, in rhetoric they were remarkable, and in 
 the fervor and force with which they were delivered they 
 were truly majestic. No such eloquence had ever been 
 heard in that ancient pulpit. But the people were not 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 83 
 
 more thrilled by them, than were they astonished that 
 they could be the production of one so young. But, 
 meanwhile, his more ordinary sermons had struck the 
 deeper and more spiritual chords of the soul ; and like 
 his distant ancestor, Deacon Samuel Chapin, the emi- 
 nent Puritan, he had proved himself to be " exceeding 
 moving in prayer." Under the devout magic of his 
 voice the passages he read from the Word of God re- 
 vealed their deepest secrets, and to the oft heard hymns 
 he gave a strange newness. By a most skilful manage- 
 ment of emphasis and by fitness of feelmg he made the 
 successive pictures of thought to stand out in strong 
 relief ; and many a one said, " Xever did I hear such 
 reading before ! " 
 
 In the young man the leaders of the parish, men of 
 culture and discrimination, saw a rare nobility of soul, 
 an unusual insight and power of mind, and the signs of 
 a coming greatness as a pulpit orator which would 
 place him among the few who, like Chrysostom the 
 golden-mouthed, and Bossuet and Chalmers and Chan- 
 ning, had made eloquence the eminent servant of the 
 Church and of the highest human interests. And all 
 the more to his credit was it, in their estimation, that 
 he bore his gifts so modestly, and was an ardent seeker 
 after new sources of power, through a larger help from 
 God, a deeper and wider fellowship with Christ, a 
 closer sympathy with humanity, and a better acquain- 
 tance with literature. 
 
 On the evening of the 23d of February the parish met 
 in full force and in a spirit of unusual enthusiasm, and 
 
 "Resolved: That in the belief that Eev. E. H. Chapin will 
 prove faithful to the cause of his Master, that he will shun 
 
84 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 not to declare the whole counsel of God, and that he is gifted 
 with ability to declare the Glad Tidings of the Gospel in 
 demonstration of the spirit and of power, we hereby extend 
 to him a frank, cordial, and unanimous invitation to assume 
 the pastoral charge of this Society." 
 
 To the hearty and flattering overture thus made 
 to him, he was in a mood to give a prompt and 
 eager acceptance; but his sense of duty to 'the cause 
 in Eichmond checked his response. Toward the flock 
 he had gathered and loved, he felt the responsibility of 
 a shepherd. If they had learned to love his voice, 
 calling them to the green pastures of the kingdom, so 
 had he an affection for them and a pride in their enthu- 
 siasm, as well as a feelmg of obligation. Hence his re- 
 ply, while it clearly revealed his desire, frankly stated 
 the possible obstruction that might stand in the way of 
 its realization, namely, the failure to secure a successor 
 in his pulpit. The correspondence now took the form 
 of urging and impatience on the one side, and of an 
 unwilling but conscientious hesitation on the other. 
 On the 2d of May he answered a personal appeal from 
 Eichard Frothingham, Jr. in these words : " I think the 
 horizon of promise is now quite clear, and that the 
 prospect that I shall settle with you is fast brightening. 
 There is only one if, and that is, if we can get a minis- 
 ter here." In September the situation had not changed, 
 save from a less to a greater impatience on both 
 sides. On the 8th of the month he again wrote to 
 Mr. Frothingham, showing a little restiveness under 
 the rumors that had gone abroad that he had agreed 
 to settle in Cliarlestown and was disregarding his 
 aiireement : — 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 85 
 
 " I believe I have always, iu my communications to your 
 society, stated that my settlement iu Charlestown was contin- 
 gent, depending on my procuring a preachei* for the society 
 in Richmond. Is it not so 1 I should be sorr}'^ to have any 
 misunderstanding arise, or to be guilty of anything that 
 might look like a breach of promise on my part. I have 
 used efforts to obtain a preacher for my society, and as yet 
 have failed, although I am not without hopes. Should I 
 make every reasonable endeavor and fail, 1 had supposed it 
 was understood that I remain iu Virginia. I merely make 
 this statement as showing my impressions upon the subject, 
 and not as implying that I have given up the idea of going 
 to Charlestown — no, not by any means." 
 
 During the fall a decision was reached, and the 
 first Sunday in December was set apart for the be- 
 ginning of his ministry in Charlestown. But there 
 came another halt in the progress of events. This time 
 nature interposed and held the young minister amid the 
 snowdrifts of New Jersey. On Monday, the 7th of 
 December, he wrote from New York as follows : " An- 
 other disappointment ! but I think a justifiable one. 
 Here I am. The snow blocked the cars in New Jer- 
 sey, and made them six hours later than usual; but 
 had I arrived here I should have been worse off 
 than I am now, for the boat that left here Saturday 
 afternoon only got twenty miles on her route and then 
 put in." 
 
 But the blockaded pastor-elect, having sermons but 
 no pulpit, either made himself known to, or was discov- 
 ered by, a Universalist, who was one of a little group 
 of believers who had formed the nucleus of a society. 
 Tlie result was a morning' and evening service on Sun- 
 
86 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 day by Mr. Oliapin, in whicli he edified and astonished 
 his hearers. Their hearts were warmed and thrilled, 
 and on their memory was made an indelible impres- 
 sion. And it was to the future parish, of which these 
 few hearers were the nucleus, that Mr. Chapin was 
 destined to mmister for thirty-two years. At the 
 twenty-fifth anniversary of that ministry, amid a vast 
 throng of people tumultuous with their greetings, A. A. 
 Peterson, Esq., referred to the "cool reception given him 
 by the violent northeast snow-storm," on the occasion 
 of his missing the Boston boat and failing to appear in 
 his Charlestown pulpit. 
 
 But even now the path to the office he had accepted 
 did not appear to him quite clear of obstacles, and he 
 was not sure that, although he had arrived in Charles- 
 town, he should reach the pulpit and the pastorate 
 that stood so near to him. It was another case of con- 
 science. In that day of the textual defence of Univer- 
 salism, he felt that to doubt the explicitness of the 
 Scripture proofs of the doctrine would, especially in 
 New England, be regarded as a defect or short-coming 
 so grave as to debar him from the ministry there ; and 
 such a doubt had a few months before come over him. 
 He saw at a glance that he could not adopt the method of 
 a Ballon or a Streeter in his defence of Universalism ; 
 and he felt that so great might be the popularity 
 of that method among the Charlestown people that 
 he would not be welcome unless he came with the 
 cherished armor buckled on and burnished for the 
 battle. In the following letter he frankly confessed 
 his doubt, and placed himself at the disposal of the 
 parish : — 
 
MIXTSTEY IN CHAKLESTOWX. 87 
 
 Richmond, Va., November 27, 1840. 
 
 Brethren, — The time is near at hand when it is contem- 
 plated that I shall assume the pastoral charge of your Societj\ 
 To you, I doubt not, the prospect of a regular ministration of 
 the Word is looked forward to with much joy. To me, the 
 hope of a connection with you in all those dear bonds that 
 unite a pastor and his people gives deep satisfaction. You 
 have been, my brethren, long deprived of a settled minister, 
 and when I consider the time which you have waited for me, 
 the good preparation you have made for my coming, the 
 kindness with which you treated me on my visit to you, I 
 should be ungrateful and unjust indeed did I not hnd my 
 heart full of warm and sincere thanks. I have, my brethren, 
 an important matter now to communicate to you, which has 
 been purposely delayed until this time for reasons given be- 
 low, and which I wish you to receive and ponder in the 
 same spirit of love and candor as that in which it is given. 
 
 It is but right that a people who are about to settle a pas- 
 tor should know precisely the position which he occupies 
 among the many sects of the Christian world — should know 
 precisely his theological views. I am not one to keep mine 
 back, or to be afraid to speak them, whatever unpopularity, 
 hatred, or scorn may follow the announcement. About the 
 fore part of last August I found my views in relation to the 
 great question of human salvation assuming the following 
 form. While I do most truly consider the doctrine of Uni- 
 versal Restoration as the most consistent with the best results 
 of reason, with all our conceptions of the Divine Character, and 
 with the spirit of Scripture, I do not see it so clearly revealed 
 in the Bible as that I should feel justified in pronouncing it 
 a plain unequivocal doctrine of the Gospel. Understand me. 
 I believe that it can be deduced from Scripture by collateral 
 arguments and by irresistible inferences ; but the texts that 
 are relied upon as unequivocally teaching it are to me not so 
 
88 LIKE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 satisfactory as I wisli they Were. As to the doctrine of end- 
 less misery I most surely reject it, as I never was more firm 
 in my convictions of its inconsistency with the benevolent 
 sjiirit of Christ and the attributes of God, and I believe that 
 the most rational and consistent doctrine is that of the Uni- 
 versal Salvation of the human family from sin and death. 
 My reason assents to it, my analogical experience supports 
 it, my philosophy feels its truth, my deductions from the 
 Bible are on its side. If all men are raised from the dead, 
 as the Gospel says they shall be, it appears to me conclusive 
 that all shall be saved. If I could find in the Bible the 
 doctrine that some would never rise from the dead, I should 
 view it as the only faith that could stand by the side of the 
 doctrine of the Restitution. But I cannot find this doctrine 
 there ; and I am led to the conclusion expressed above, that 
 the most probable, the most consistent faith, is the faith of 
 Universal Restoration. 
 
 There are texts in the Epistles of Paul that lean strongly 
 to the Universalist interpretation, yet they can have other 
 meanings, or at least other meanings can be so plainly de- 
 fended as to leave my mind in doubt as to what is their true 
 interpretation. There is another class of texts, which are 
 adduced as supporting the Universalist interpretation, that I 
 deem local and limited in their application. But I do not 
 purpose hero to discuss the reasons for my present doubt ; 
 more examination, very possibly, may cause me to see with 
 that clear light which my brethren possess. This is the im- 
 portant point, brethren, which I wished to communicate to 
 you. As to my other views, they are in accordance with 
 yours. I reject the doctrine of the trinity, of a vicarious 
 sacrifice to appease the wrath of God, of total depravity, 
 original sin, etc. etc. 
 
 With these, as I have said, I reject the doctrine of endless 
 misery, annihilation, etc. With my other views, my reason 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 89 
 
 and my hope, bound together with golden cords of scriptural 
 teaching, hold the sublime and beautiful doctrine of Uni- 
 versal Salvation. 
 
 Now brethren, you have a right to demand of me why 
 this was not made known before. 
 
 This is my answer. As I have said, it was not until the 
 fore part of last August, about the time of my last visit to 
 the North, that I found my views settling in this form. I 
 had no intention of imposing myself upon any man, or set 
 of men, with a mask on. This is what I cannot do. I hold 
 it to be the right of any man to have, when he doubts, the 
 benefit of investigation, and that he is not bound to disclose 
 to the loud-mouthed and exaggerating public every shadow 
 of opinion that falls athwart liis mind. Had I remained 
 with the society here I should probably have announced my 
 views ere this ; as it is, I Iiave reserved this announcement 
 until now. My brethren, Avere there such a state of things 
 as I would see in the Christian Church, when the pastor 
 should be sought, not for tlie precise doctrinal views he 
 might hold, but for his capacity to feed the intellectual and 
 religious wants of his hearers, and to minister to them in joy 
 and sorrow, in life and death, I should feel that this state- 
 ment would not be required of me. 
 
 My capacity you have already passed upon ; such as it is, 
 should you see fit to settle me, it shall be devoted to the great 
 cause of God and humanity — of Liberal Christianity — of the 
 religion of love, and not of fear. My sermons have dwelt 
 but little upon the points of doctrine. I have labored more 
 for spiritual advancement, for moral and intellectual progress, 
 than for sects or parties. The character of my preaching will 
 be the same as ever. If under these considerations you 
 see fit to settle me, I am ready. If not, I can but acknowl- 
 edge that you will do me no injustice. I know that your 
 society is an Independent one. I viean to be an Indepen- 
 
90 ' LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 dent preacher. Act, brethren, not so much for me, as for 
 your own interests and your duty. I leave here next Wed- 
 nesday (the 1st December) and shall be in Boston, if nothing 
 occurs to prevent, on Saturday morning the 4th, prepared, 
 should you see fit, to fulfil ray appointment for the following 
 Sunday. 
 
 God's blessing be on you all, and may He guide you in 
 your deliberations is the prayer of your grateful brother, 
 
 E. H. CHAPIN. 
 
 In this case of conscience the parish saw no case 
 whatever, and returned the prompt reply : " We are 
 ready to receive you most cordially as our pastor," As 
 they would not turn against the sun on the score that 
 a spot, " a wandering isle of night," moved over its 
 broad bright disc, no more would they reject on so 
 slight a discount so complete a disciple of the broad- 
 est faith. In this reply we have, without doubt, the 
 thoughts and words of Eichard Frothingham, Jr., since 
 it is signed by his name " in behalf of the Society ; " 
 and in the closing paragraph is reflected a regard for 
 the freedom of the pulpit which is worthy of this 
 patriot and historian, and which would be a true glory 
 and source of progress if held by the Church gener- 
 ally. " We would have our minister ' an Independent 
 Preacher;' one who would not be bounded by creed or 
 sect ; one who would yield to no dictation but that of 
 his own conscience; one who would make Duty his 
 principle of action, and Truth his guiding star ; one 
 who would stand ready to reflect whatever of new light 
 he may receive, upon the people of his charge. Eob- 
 inson, two centuries ago, charged his people never to 
 be afraid to receive new truth from God's Word. 
 
MINISTRY IN CHAULESTOWN. 91 
 
 Shall we refuse to accept a liberty that is two centu- 
 ries old ?" 
 
 On the Second Sunday of December Chapin entered 
 the Charlestown pulpit as preacher and pastor, and 
 greeted the people who had waited fifteen months for 
 his coming. But their patience they never regretted, 
 so amply was it rewarded by a ministry at once rich in 
 thought, consecrated in spirit, unequalled in the elo- 
 quence of its proclamations, fertile of personal friend- 
 ships, and prosperous in the more outward offices of 
 adding greatly to the numbers and revenues of the 
 parish. 
 
 His Installation occurred on the 23d of December, in 
 the presence of a large and happy congregation. On 
 the service the Eev. Thomas Whittemore invoked the 
 divine blessing. Eev. Benjamin Whittemore read se- 
 lections from the Bible. Eev. Otis A. Skinner preached 
 a sermon. Eev. Hosea Ballou offered the Installing 
 Prayer. Eev. Hosea Ballou 2d gave the Charge to the 
 new pastor, and put a copy of the Bible in his hand as 
 the true light of his life and the guide of his preaching. 
 The Fellowship of the churches was pledged by Eev. 
 Henry Bacon. The society was addressed and coun- 
 selled by Eev. Sebastian Streeter. The Eev. E. G. 
 Brooks concluded tlie service by returning thanks for 
 the hour, its high interests and its cheering hopes. 
 
 From these memorable hands the young minister 
 took the Ark of the Covenant, and for five years he 
 bore it in and out before this people in sacred fidelity 
 to his vow. In the life of Chapin they were years of 
 great activities and developments, of great triumphs 
 and flattering prospects, of high lights and deep shad- 
 
92 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 0W8, of grand marches on radiant mounts and of pen- 
 sive walks in the deep vales. Of all the years of his 
 life they w^ere perhaps the most plastic and formative ; 
 and, while the ore of his being was thus at its whitest 
 heat, it was brought under the most favorable pres- 
 sures. He had come to the best school the country 
 could offer him, a school truly polytechnic and with 
 competent teachers ; and he came in the true humility 
 and ambition of a pupil. Far more than Charlestown 
 needed him, he needed Charlestown ; and since his ful- 
 ness, from wdiich he gave, was not equal to the void in 
 his being which he hastened to fill, it must in truth be 
 confessed that he conferred, however great were his 
 bestowments, less than he received. 
 
 In another chapter his relation to the Eeforms will 
 be treated; but it must be said here that it was in 
 "Charlestown he budded and flowered and bore signal 
 fruit as a Reformer. He had come from the South in a 
 state of indifference, at least, toward the causes which 
 were then agitated in the North, such as temperance, 
 anti-slavery, anti-capital punishment, and a universal 
 brotherhood. By nature . he clearly belonged with the 
 reformers, for his heart was broad as the all-encircling 
 sky, and his moral sense keenly alive to the distinctions 
 of right and wrong and of good and evil; with the 
 very elect in humane offices he had a birthright 
 place; but in Eichmond circumstances had not con- 
 spired to draw his thoughts and lure his heart in this 
 direction, as tliere was a time when Wilberforce was to 
 be found in the social clubs and not in the reform 
 leagues, and when Clarkson had not pledged his will 
 to the setting free of the oppressed. All the reformers 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 93 
 
 have waited for the clock of tmie to strike the favored 
 hour in which they should awake from sleep and an- 
 swer the morning drum-beat calling to a change of base 
 and a new form of warfare. For Clarkson that hour 
 was struck at college, where he joined the contestants 
 for a prize-essay on the theme : "Is involuntary servi- 
 tude justifiable ? " It was while journeying on the 
 Continent with his Christian friend, the Eev. Isaac 
 Milner, that the call to be a reformer fell on the ear of 
 Wilberforce, And so for Chapin was sounded the note 
 of appeal as he passed into the atmosphere of Charles- 
 town and New England, — an air hot with the breath 
 of agitation, and resounding with the voices of Garrison 
 and Parker, Pierpont and Gough, Horace Mann, Charles 
 Spear, and their compeers. At once the young minis- 
 ter mounted all the platforms, and was everywhere in 
 demand as the orator of the reforms. 
 
 But if a new trumpet tone, a clarion note of agitation, 
 was here drawn from his being, so also was a new minor 
 chord touched in his soul, and often heard in his preach- 
 ing. Here he fell under his first great sorrow, in the 
 death of his first-born, Edward Channing Chapin. His 
 early hope in the child, indicated by the gift of its mid- 
 dle name, seemed to be happily confirmed as month by 
 month the young life unfolded. " Little Eddie," writes 
 Ptev. J. H. Farnsworth, then residing with the Chapins, 
 "was the brightest and sweetest of children, and the 
 light of the house." In one of his letters from Ptich- 
 mond to Eichard Frothingham, Jr., the father proudly 
 sent "greetings from my infant Eddie." The advent of 
 this child had opened a great fountain of affection in the 
 young minister toward all children, as well as for this 
 
9-i LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 one he called his own ; and in a new light he saw their 
 little joys and sorrows. " The child's grief," he said, 
 " throbs against the round of its little heart as heavily 
 as the man's sorrow ; and the one finds as much delight 
 in his kite or dream as the other in striking the springs 
 of enterprise or soaring on the wings of fame." 
 
 But when the fatal shadow lowered over his cherished 
 boy, 
 
 " All his liopes were changed to fears, 
 And all his thoughts ran into tears 
 Like sunshine into raiu ! " 
 
 Like the reed to the sweep of the tide, his stout and 
 buoyant heart bowed under the grief. From this time 
 on there was, however, a tenderer and sweeter strain in 
 his sermons, a more subdued and trustful note in his 
 prayers, than had been heard in them before. From the 
 radiance of Christian hope the cloud soon took a silver 
 edge, and he preached a memorable discourse on the 
 " Mission of Little Children." And directly there came 
 other pathetic and solacing sermons to join this, as in 
 the evening sky one star after another comes forth to 
 light the shaded scene. Into the volume entitled " The 
 Crown of Thorns," these pensive, prose lyrics were 
 gathered, and many are the readers they have com- 
 forted. With this first sorrow, it is very evident, a new 
 and finer influence dawned in Chapin's ministry, and 
 never faded from it. Only from the heart does the voice 
 take its tones, and his acquired from this experience a 
 touch of pathos that ever gave it a higher power. 
 
 At this period another tendency began to make its 
 appearance, which proved at once a good and an evil, a 
 source of applause and of reproach, and which, no doubt. 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 95 
 
 led to the first break in his health. It was a tendency 
 to an undue absorption or engrossment in the theme 
 that occupied him. Toward a single point the currents 
 of his life naturally converged and rushed. His ardent 
 and intense temperament exposed him to this excess of 
 concentration ; and his tasks had now so multiplied 
 that he could accomplish them only by becoming lost 
 in them, as it were. To meet the demands made on 
 him required an oblivion of much that might well have 
 engaged his thoughts and feelings. Considering his 
 age, still under thirty, the demand upon him was simply 
 enormous. Aside from the calls of his parish, the gen- 
 eral public clamored for ,his eloqiience. The lyceums 
 must have him to give prestige to their courses. The 
 Odd Fellows claimed him on all their festive occasions. 
 The friends of temperance knew full well the value of 
 his voice as an aid in their work, and made constant 
 and urgent appeals for his presence on their platforms. 
 At installations and ordinations he was frequently called 
 upon to be the preacher. At college Commencements 
 his oratory must be heard. Of the Massachusetts Legis- 
 lature he was elected chaplain. Of the State Board of 
 Education he was appointed a member. Before the 
 Governor and Council he was called to preach the Elec- 
 tion Sermon. In fact, the imposed tasks became so 
 numerous and miportant that he could only make ready 
 for them and discharge them by a sort of concentrated 
 vehemence. At the peril of his health and the risk of 
 neglecting social demands and duties, he permitted him- 
 self for a time, quite in accord with the ardent genius 
 of his nature and his love of serving, to pass mto these 
 self-centered and frenzied toils. 
 
96 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 While great good was thus accomplished for the many 
 causes he had espoused, and his oratorical fame was en- 
 hanced, there began to appear other results, which were 
 regarded with anxiety. The superb machine began to be 
 rent by its own activity. His exaltations were followed 
 by depressions equally marked. He who was so radiant 
 and meteor-like became often a darkened orb. With 
 the mainspring of his life half broken at times, it was 
 the serene and strong will of his wife that buoyed him 
 up and bore him on. The great enthusiast, swept on by 
 torrents of impulse, had his hours when he needed to be 
 cheered and urged ; and in these seasons Mrs. Chapin 
 was both a wisdom and a magnetism. 
 
 At length liis mind showed signs of weariness and dis- 
 inclination to work, and he asked for and was granted a 
 season of rest. In his note of request he wrote that, " with- 
 out laboring under any specific bodily complaint, I find 
 myself unfitted for the mental action and labors of my 
 office, and by eminent medical counsel I have been ad- 
 vised to suspend for a short time my pulpit and paro- 
 chial duties, and avail myself of the benefits of a journey." 
 From this season of recreation he returned greatly im- 
 proved, and resolved to better observe the laws of bodily 
 and mental health. The following item was soon pub- 
 lished in the " Trumpet " by Eev. Thomas Whittemore : 
 " Brother E. H. Chapin, having come to the conclusion 
 that duty to himself will require him to discontinue the 
 delivery of promiscuous lectures and addresses in differ- 
 ent places, requests me to give public notice to that effect 
 to save himself and others the trouble of writing letters." 
 But the wise resolution was easier made than kept. In 
 each case where there was need of eloquence, the people 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 97 
 
 saw a special reason why Chapin should be heard ; and 
 so prone was his lieart to serve, it was easy to make 
 it appear to him that it was even so. Under a kindled 
 impulse he would often answer with a Yes when a 
 little later, his reason would dictate a negative ; hut 
 conscience would compel him to keep his promise, be 
 the peril in so doing whatever it might be. And so the 
 tide of his oratory rolled on, sweeping the crowds along 
 w^ith it. 
 
 But it was not only at the cost of the best conditions 
 of mind and body that he permitted himself to be swept 
 thus into rapt engrossments, but it was also at the sacri- 
 fice of ideal social bearings. He began to meet people 
 as if he met them not ; even toward his best friends he 
 wore at times an air of indifference. Lost in his moods 
 of exalted musing and enthusiasm, which approached 
 the morbid in degree, he took on at times an air of 
 social coldness, and almost of social aversion, when his 
 heart, back of the inner commotion that possessed him, 
 was warm and kind as ever, and incapable of a real 
 discourtesy. He was the victim of his moods. It is 
 the testimony of Professor Tweed, than whom he never 
 had a more admiring parishioner and cordial friend, 
 — their common gravity and wit aiding their hearts to 
 a happier fellowship, — that he has often had Chapin 
 meet him at one hour of the day as a boon companion, 
 and at another hour, as a stranger meets a stranger. It 
 could but happen that they who understood him not 
 should mistake this self-engrossment for social neglect, 
 and lay at his feet the charge of violating the law of 
 good society. 
 
 But this self-centering habit, a confessed misfortune, 
 7 
 
98 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 also involved him in some felicitous blunders, over 
 wliicli lie and his friends had many a hearty laugh. 
 Thus one Monday morning he took a horse and chaise 
 from a Charlestown livery stable and drove to the 
 " Trumpet " office in Boston, where he spent, as was his 
 wont, a little time in converse with the ministers of his 
 sect who had assembled there ; but he did not observe 
 his turnout sufficiently to identify it. Even the color 
 of his horse he did not fix in mind, and could not have 
 told probably, when out of sight of it, wdiether his vehi- 
 cle had two or four wheels. From a brief and mipetuous 
 visit in the office before which his carriage stood, he 
 hastened up the street to visit a bookstore and make a 
 purchase. Here his oblivion of outward circumstances 
 took on a yet more intense degree. He became lost in 
 a book or a theme ; and when he left the store, he 
 mounted the first carriage he came to and drove home, 
 enjoying by the way, no doubt, some eloquent ecstasy. 
 On arriving at the stable the proprietor, observing and 
 smiling at his plight, remarked that lie hoped Mr. 
 Chapin had proved a good jockey, and brought home a 
 round sum of money for boot as his end of the bargain 
 of swapping teams. For a worn out and shabby car- 
 riage he had exchanged a stylish one, and for a value- 
 less horse he had parted with a fine steed of another 
 color. In due time his mistake was happily rectified, 
 and was richly enjoyed all round. 
 
 About the same time, while absent from his home, 
 he carelessly put on his short body a very tall man's 
 coat instead of his own, and, looking like a man in a 
 train, came home thus attired. These innocent tahcs 
 w^ere exceedingly' enjoyed by his humorous friend Dr. 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 99 
 
 Ballon, later the honored president of Tufts College, 
 who referred to them in a rollicking poem entitled 
 " The Pilgrimage of Childe Edwin (Edwin H. Chapin) 
 and Childe Cyrus (Cyrus H. Fay). A Romaunt. In 
 two Cantos." The Pilgrimage was a four-mile walk, 
 in darkness and mud, from the home of Dr. Ballon in 
 Medford to the nearest omnibus stand from which a 
 ride mto Boston could be obtained. The two pilgrims 
 had reached the railroad station too late for the last 
 train to the city. With a formal invocation of the 
 " Muse of Fifery " the sage Doctor began his poem, and 
 introduced his heroes in the second stanza : — 
 
 " There were two rude and graceless imps of sin 
 Who served the Devil, their Dad, with all their might ; 
 (Ah me ! the wicked pranks thej' gloried in !) 
 Childe Edwin this, and that Childe Cyrus hight. 
 Were horse and chaise left fastened in his sight, 
 Childe Edwin stole them straight in open day ; 
 Or, bolting into houses, he would diglit 
 Himself in pilfered coats, and then away 
 Swift through the country in his harlecjuiu array." 
 
 In a mood of similar abstraction he was one day 
 passing the office of a prominent lawyer and politician 
 of the city, a stranger to him, but who had a strong cu- 
 riosity to meet him. Ptichard Frothingham, Jr., being in 
 the office at the time, hailed his pastor and called him 
 in, and introduced him to the lawyer. But the great 
 preacher was incommunicative. His mind was so busy 
 in its own realm as to take little note of his present 
 relations, and while occupying his seat he began mus- 
 ingly to punch the broken plastering on the wall with 
 his cane. After a season of manifest failure with 
 his tongue and conspicuous success with his staff, he 
 
100 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 arose and excused himself, and moved on liis way. " He 
 is an odd genius," said the lawyer, " but I must hear him 
 preach." The next Sunday, taking a seat with Mr. 
 Frothingham, he was thrilled by the outbursts of elo- 
 quence from the pulpit. The man who had impressed 
 him by his strange reticence had now overpowered him 
 by his marvellous speech, and he hardly knew whether 
 he were in the body or out. xVt the close of the service 
 he was asked how he liked Mr. Chapin. " Like him ? " 
 was his reply, " If he will preach like that he may 
 punch my old office all to pieces ! " 
 
 In the terse and quaint Scotch style of Eev. A. G. 
 Laurie, an intimate friend of all the parties named, an 
 amusing sketch of Chapin's ardor is furnished : — 
 
 Dr. Ballou, — clarum et venei-ahile nomen, — Starr King, 
 and Chapin were climbing one of the White Mountains. 
 Quietly climbed the Doctor ; vehemently Chapin ; and, quiz- 
 zically observant of the showings of their two opposite tem- 
 peraments, after them loitered Starr. At every coigne of 
 vantage paused the Doctor, took in effect of liglit and shade, 
 and with sigh of satisfaction took np a new point of view. 
 Deliberately drank he in the glories, to be settled in his mind 
 forever. Just as lasting afterwards was their impression on 
 Chapin's mind, but at first lie swallowed them at a gulp. 
 Then ever on to some new headland clomb he, with a cry 
 thrown over his shoulder, " Come on. Doctor, come on." Pa- 
 tiently for long forbore the Doctor ; for how be loved Chapin, 
 and how Chapin loved him ! But at last his irritation and 
 his sense of its comicality broke out together, and as Chapin 
 nudged him to " on, on, on," with his hand on Chapin's 
 shoulder he stayed the impetuous, and, full in his face, said : 
 " Chapin, when you go up to Heaven, and get inside the gate, 
 you 'U seize the arm of the receiving angel and cry, ' Here, 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 101 
 
 see, come now, what have you got to show a fellow 1 ' And, 
 taking in the view in a twinkling, you '11 shag him forward 
 to another point, and cry, ' Xow, now, what next 1 what next 1 ' 
 And with that ' What next ' you '11 hurry through all eternity." 
 Then pealed Starr King ; and, recognizing the truthfulness of 
 the Doctor's take-otf of himself, shouted aloud among the 
 hills the victim and the hero of the joke, while softly and 
 soundlessly smiled the Doctor. Characteristic, I think, is the 
 anecdote of the good-tempered cynicism of Starr King, of the 
 placid humor and fun of Dr. Ballou, and of the energy, the 
 impetuosity, tlie glorious hoisterousness of Chapin ! 
 
 Among the honors that were conferred on Chapin by 
 his Charlestown friends, and that he took to his heart, 
 was the giving of his name to a ship by a formal ser- 
 vice. A Mr. Gondolpho, a Spaniard and a Eoman 
 Catholic, seeking a church of liis faith, entered by mis- 
 take the Universalist Church, but was so well pleased 
 that he came again and again, and at length took seats 
 as a regular attendant. Very soon his admiration for 
 the eloquent minister ripened into esteem and friend- 
 ship. From a poor man he became a rich one, and 
 entered into business at Mobile, Alabama. At the 
 North a vessel had been built for him, and he honored 
 his former pastor by giving it his name. The following 
 account of the ceremonial of christening the craft is 
 taken from the "Trumpet and Universalist ]Magazine:" 
 
 The ship (or more correctly the barque) E. H. Chapin 
 was the scene of a very interesting service on Wednesday of 
 last week. She then lay at Lewis Wharf in Boston. By the 
 invitation of her owner, James Gondolpho, Esq., of Mobile, a 
 large company of ladies and gentlemen assembled iu her ele- 
 gant cabins by eleven o'clock. At twelve precisely the com- 
 
102 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 pany was called together on the promenade deck, under a 
 beautiful awning, when a very fervent prayer was offered by 
 Eev. 0. A. Skinner of Boston. Mr. Chapin was then intro- 
 duced to the audience. He said he felt himself peculiarly 
 situated. His own name, aa a compliment to himself, had 
 been given to this vessel. He was thankful for so high a 
 mark of respect. He then went on to speak of the dangers 
 and vicissitudes of the sea, and said that we who dwell upon 
 the land think too little of the wonders, sublimities, and 
 beauties of the sea, and the dangers, privations and trials of 
 those who do business thereon. He spoke of the advantages 
 of the great commerce of the ocean, how it brought distant 
 nations, as it were, together, and linked tliem to each other 
 more strongly than if it were done with hooks of steel. His 
 mind having been drawn to this subject, he should henceforth 
 take a deeper interest in what appertained to the mighty deep. 
 It was the custom, he said, when an individual had been 
 honored by having a vessel called by his name, for him to 
 present her with a set of colors. For obvious reasons he 
 asked to be excused from the customary presentation, but he 
 begged leave to present to the vessel a copy of the Holy 
 Scriptures. Here he laid an elegantly gilt copy of the Bible, 
 properly inscribed, upon the burnished head of the capstan. 
 This was more than a suit of colors. It was chart and com- 
 pass. He recommended it to the attention of the officers, 
 passengers, and crew. He showed how true a guide it was in 
 sailing over the stormy ocean of human life. 
 
 As in his editorial work at Utica and in his ministry 
 at Eiclimond, so in his spirit and preaching at Charles- 
 town, Chapin was tlie broad-churchman. An undoubt- 
 ing Universahst, he still sought a wider fellowship, and 
 urged mainly the principles and sentiments of the Gos- 
 pels which are held in common by all the sects. His 
 
MINISTRY IN CHARLESTOWN. 103 
 
 attitude is well set forth in a single period from the pre- 
 face to a vokime of his sermons publislied at that time : 
 " The great principle to be propagated and established in 
 the souls of all men is not this or that particular ism, but 
 the Spii'it of Christ." The idea of the unity of faith 
 was most congenial to him ; and whenever and wherever 
 that idea was set forward it kindled him like an electric 
 spark, and his eloquence became easy and fervid. An 
 exceptionally stirring speech, remembered to this day 
 by some who heard it, was thus generated in one of 
 his conference meetings. A Methodist from the State 
 of Maine, a plain farmer, was in the meeting and had 
 enjoyed it. At length he rose, and, making himself 
 known, said, among other things : " I was one day sitting 
 on a loCT with mv Universalist neighbor, and I said to 
 him, ' Suppose, neighbor, we try and see how much alike 
 we are in religion, and not how we differ ; ' and I must 
 tell you we were pretty much one after all." By this 
 little homely touch of a great fact, Chapin was swiftly 
 exalted into one of his most impassioned moods of elo- 
 quence, and thrilled the little company around him as it 
 had rarely been stirred before by human speech. " The 
 effort was magnificent," are the terms by which Eev. 
 Mr. Farnsworth, who heard it, describes it. The little 
 spark from the Methodist's heart kindled a flame m his 
 own soul. 
 
 At Charlestown Mr. Chapin's salary, fourteen hundred 
 dollars, although reasonably large for the tune, was not 
 equal to his fame nor to his expenditures. Every ap- 
 peal to his generosity he met with an open hand. The 
 aged artist, his father, was now almost wholly dependent 
 on him, and had his needs met with a fiHal liberality. 
 
104 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The young minister, living in this more literary realm, 
 had acquired a miserly greed for books, and those of the 
 rarest and costliest type, and through the ardent and 
 blind impulse of the moment he made debts which ou 
 the morrow he could not easily meet ; but generous 
 friends came to his aid, and sheltered him from the 
 shower of unmet obligations. Meanwhile larger salaries 
 were offered him in New York and Boston, which, with 
 the wider fields of influence thus opened to him, lured 
 him with a sway he could but feel and confess, and 
 which, in the light of duty, he came to regard with favor. 
 He accordingly accepted an invitation from the School 
 Street Church in Boston, and became colleague wdth 
 Eev. Hosea Ballon, at a salary of two thousand dollars. 
 The following letter of resignation needs no com- 
 ments : — 
 
 Charlestown, November, 1, 1845. 
 
 Brethren, — After, I trust, due deliberation, I liave con- 
 cluded to ask of you a diss(jlution of our present connection, 
 in order tliat I may be at liberty to accept a call which I 
 have received from the Second Universalist Society in Boston. 
 I therefore now respectfully tender to you my resignation of 
 my office as Pastor of your society — the connection to close 
 at such a time as you may indicate. 
 
 Thus much formally. But, bretln-en, a connection of 
 almost five years cannot he coldly broken. The conclusion 
 at wliich I have now arrived fills me with emotion, and I 
 should do injustice to myself and to you did I not say 
 so. Those five years exist with all their vicissitudes and 
 their results, and they can never be obliterated from my 
 memory. The kindness and indulgence Avhich I have ex- 
 perienced at your hands, the acquaintances I liave formed, 
 the seasons of communion we have had together, the words 
 
MINISTRY IN CHAELESTOWN. 105 
 
 which I have spoken and you have heard, and all the facts 
 and ojjportunities of my ministry among you, have estab- 
 lished a relation between us which cannot be broken by any 
 changes. The connection between pastor and people is only 
 excelled in nearness by that of the family ; and I now 
 l^en the words which, on my part, dissolve that connection 
 with sad and px-ayerful emotion. But though I shall soon 
 cease to break unto you the Bread of Life as your settled 
 Pastor, as tlie Preacher and the Friend I shall always enter 
 your pulpit and your houses as coming hotne, and shall always 
 feel that you are still mt/ people. 
 
 I trust, brethren, that in forming my decision I have not 
 acted with an eye merely to my own interests, I have not 
 been, nay, I am not now without some fears tliat my leaving 
 you may be injurious to the interests of your society ; but 
 I have reason, on the whole to believe it will not prove a 
 permanent injury. I trust you will soon find a Pastor upon 
 whom you Avill unite, and who will advance your temporal 
 and spiritual interests. For your welfare in these respects I 
 do now and shall ever earnestly pray. Commending you to 
 God for guidance, blessing, and all needed good, I subscribe 
 myself, 
 
 Yours Fraternally, 
 
 E. H. CHAPIK 
 
 In its reply to this decisive but cordial letter, the so- 
 ciety with regret accepted the situation, and returned a 
 not less kindly reply. The following extract from its 
 communication will be read with interest : — 
 
 After a connection of almost five years, we cannot contem- 
 plate a separation without painful emotion. They have been 
 years of harmony and prosperity with us as a society, and of 
 uninterrupted friendship as individuals, in which you have 
 been very near to us in our joys and our sorrows, and have 
 
106 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 touched our hearts by your powerful Christian appeals. We 
 feel that this connection has been mutually happy and profit- 
 able. The past will linger in our memories ; change shall not 
 alter it, nor time obliterate it. And when as a Preacher you 
 may enter our pulpit, or as a friend may enter our homes, 
 be assured you will ever be welcome as one of us. 
 
 In the painful act of accepting the resignation you tender, 
 we find consolation in the thought that you will be en- 
 gaged in a more extended field, — that labors, so satisfactory 
 to us, will be extended to brethren of the same faith ; and, 
 also, that you will still be in our immediate neighborhood, 
 so that, though the pastoral tie may be severed, yet the 
 friendly intercourse may continue. 
 
VIII. 
 
 MINISTEY IN BOSTOK 
 
 The time had come when the venerable Hosea Bal- 
 lon had filled the measure of his more active ministry 
 in the School Street Chnrchand Society m Boston. For 
 years he had gone in and ont before this people, who 
 honored him for his virtue, admired him for his ability, 
 and loved him for his devotion to their interests. He 
 had been one of the great preachers of his time, — strong 
 in logic, shrewd in the processes of his thought, mipas- 
 sioned in spirit, mighty in the Scriptures, — and had 
 converted many thousands to his views m a manner so 
 signal they could name the date and the place of their 
 conversion. If the phrase "I was converted to Uni- 
 versalism by Father Ballon" could come flying from 
 all the lips which have spoken it to some printer's stand 
 and be put in type, its repetitions would fill a good 
 sized volume. But time and toil tell on every life, and 
 theu" work had been wrought on the stalwart frame 
 and native vigor of the aged pastor ; and the question 
 of a colleague came before the parish as one upon which 
 they must act, alike out of regard tothe need of their 
 old friend of rest, and of the cause for a more active 
 servant. 
 
 For many reasons the people turned to the Charles- 
 town minister as their first choice. They had come to 
 
108 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 know the Christian sweetness and ardor of his spirit, 
 the untiring industry of his brain and hand, the charm 
 and power of his eloquence; and they felt confident 
 that eager crowds would press to their ancient temple 
 on every Sunday if he were the minister in charge. 
 And to these determining reasons for giving him a call 
 was added another in the hearts of some of the leading 
 members, a personal friendship already strong and 
 sealed with the stamp of time. . Accordingly on the 
 28th of September, 1845, a unamimous invitation was 
 extended to him, with an offer of $2,000 as salary, to 
 settle as colleague with Hosea Ballon. 
 
 The invitation was accepted. AVith deep emotions 
 of sadness, but with a sense of rightness in the act, as 
 is indicated at the close of the previous chapter, he 
 withdrew from Charlestown and took up the work in 
 Boston, and was installed on Wednesday evening, Jan- 
 uary 26, 1846. On this occasion the Scripture was read 
 by Rev. T. D. Cook ; the blessing of God invoked by 
 Bev. A. Hichborn ; the sermon was by Eev. Hasea Bal- 
 lon ; Installing Prayer, by Rev. Sebastian Streeter ; 
 Charge, by Rev. Hosea Ballon 2d ; Fellowship of the 
 churches, by Rev. Otis A. Skinner; Address to the so- 
 ciety, by Rev. C. H. Fay ; and closing prayer, by Rev. 
 A. P. Cleverly. At the conclusion of his sermon, the 
 senior pastor " made a very affectionate and sincere ad- 
 dress to the candidate in which he invoked on him 
 great prosperity in his new relation, and assured him of 
 the faithfulness and integrity of the society in their deal- 
 ings with him." 
 
 His ministry in Boston was brief, reaching through 
 a period of only two years, and was not marked by 
 
MINISTRY IN BOSTON. 109 
 
 anything special in the way of development or incident. 
 Coming from liichmond to Charlestown, he had made 
 in the latter place the great advance steps of his life. 
 Under the shadow of Bunker Hill he caught a new 
 vision of Liberty, and amid the temperance agitation 
 of that time he gave his heart to Total Abstinence, and 
 put his hand to the pledge ; and for these great causes 
 he became the eloquent advocate. Here also he had 
 acquired a new and tenderer sentiment in his soul, a 
 more pathetic tone in his voice, through the discipline 
 of his first great sorrow — an acquisition as permanent 
 as his life ; and here his moods of enthusiastic abstrac- 
 tion, in which his friends even failed to arrest his notice, 
 became characteristic. And with these developments put 
 forth, like buds burst into full bloom, he removed to 
 Boston only to keep the even tenor of his way ; or if any 
 change came to him, it was merely a change to greater 
 activity and influence, through the demand imposed by 
 his growing fame. "Mr. Chapin always seemed in a 
 hurry," is the way in which one, then a child in his 
 parish, states her remembrance of him ; and another 
 says of his pastoral calls : " He came and went," — thus 
 indicating a marked brevity and haste in his social in- 
 terviews. In part to his constitutional impetuosity, but 
 in a larger degree to necessity, must we ascribe this 
 obvious hurry, for the demand now made on his pen 
 and voice was almost without limit. As reformer, lec- 
 turer, and preacher on many special occasions his field 
 of toil was New England, — his hearers and admirers, 
 the eager crowds of her population ; while in the nar- 
 rower sphere of his own pulpit he met on Sundays 
 enthusiastic throngs, many of whom, hearing him for 
 
110 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the first time, marvelled at the spell his eloquence 
 wrought oil them. And for all these services his prep- 
 aration was careful and laborious. Being naturally 
 timid and distrustful of his powers, he bent every 
 energy to the work of making ready for the triumphs he 
 won. Never is the man whose success lies along the 
 path of sentiment and impulse so sure of himself and of 
 his goal as the man whose triumph is of the intellect ; 
 for while the latter may know in advance just how it 
 will be with him, and hence will quietly make ready for 
 his task and be at peace, the former can never foretell 
 his measure of success, and will be nervously anxious 
 and especially painstaking in advance. Thus was it 
 with Cliapin. For his many special and ordinary ser- 
 vices before the public he made a careful and even 
 solicitous preparation, which left him no time to loiter 
 by the way and indulge in extended social intercourse. 
 To the seeming neglect of his friends, he must needs 
 hastily greet them and pass on. 
 
 It is probable that his courage in preaching the re- 
 forms was never put to a severer test than in the School 
 Street pulpit. Father Ballon was not a Radical to blaze 
 an advance path through these kingdoms just then being 
 newly entered with the daring purpose of conquest, and 
 to call upon tliose lingering behind to come forward. 
 The conservatism of his parish was considerable, and he 
 had not much disturbed it. But Chapin came to the 
 place with all the enthusiasm of a new-born reformer, 
 and the prestige of the favorite orator of the reforms, 
 and made slavery, intemperance, and war the frequent 
 objects of his rebuke. The pow'er and pungency with 
 which he treated these themes are set forth in a remi- 
 
MINISTRY IN BOSTON. Ill 
 
 niscence by his successor, Dr. Miner, in these words : 
 " I remember on one occasion, in the suburbs of Boston, 
 when, after discussing the great waste in a somewhat 
 more general way occasioned by intemperance, he asked 
 his auditory to reflect upon the waste that would be 
 involved in gathering up the cereals of the Common- 
 wealth, converting them into whiskey, taking the whiskey 
 down to the end of Long Wharf, knocking in the heads 
 of the barrels, and spilling the whole into the dock; 
 and, said he, ' would it be any less a waste if you were 
 to strain that whislvey through human stomachs and 
 spoil the strainer.'" To men still bound by the chains 
 of the old drinking custom, and more or less engaged, it 
 may be, in the liquor traffic, his outspoken reproofs 
 bore a pungent sthig, and they grew restive and hos- 
 tile. But he had the courage of his convictions and 
 moved calmly on in his radical course, and won not 
 only a tolerable peace for himself, but the grounds of an 
 easier victory by the more radical man who came after 
 him to this field of conflict. 
 
 In a manner which drew upon him the anxiety of some 
 of his brethren, he betrayed at this period the native 
 catholicity and toleration of his spirit. A fresh wave of 
 Rationalism, flowing across the ocean from Germany, 
 was just then sweeping over the American Church, and 
 bearing away on its fascinating crest one and another of 
 the clergymen of the various orders. Especially were 
 Unitarian and Universalist ministers and laymen in- 
 clined to cast themselves on this flowing tide, and to 
 try the open sea of reason and intuition, unguided by 
 any chart of divine authority. The venture was pleas- 
 ing to a restless and bold but noble order of souls, like a 
 
112 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Theodore Parker, Orestes Bronson, and a Ealph Waldo 
 Emerson. Against these leaders and their more ob- 
 scure followers Orthodoxy was everywhere aroused, 
 and strove to draw them from the tide or drown them 
 in it. The Universalists had tlieir full share of these 
 come-outerSj as they were then called, or these en- 
 tranced wave-riders to deal with ; and with a con- 
 scientious vigor the leaders of the order set about the 
 unwelcome task. But Chapin did not take up arms in 
 the conflict. While not adrift himself on the wide 
 sea, he still did not break his fellowship with those 
 who were, but rather conceded they might be sailing 
 withhi the ch'cle of the Christian horizon, and that 
 Christ might yet be the pilot on their small boat and 
 to the little crew. He contended there were various 
 approaches to the grand haven of Christian experience 
 and life, and that Parker and the rest might still be 
 moving in the right direction, even if not employing 
 the Orthodox compass. Sharing himself a fuller ac- 
 ceptance of Christ than they did, he was not in favor 
 of denying to them the Christian name. He evidently 
 regarded them as within the pale of the Broad Church, 
 which was to him at that time and ever afterward the 
 ideal church, and felt they were to be met and associat- 
 ed with m the name and spirit of Christian fellowship. 
 This attitude affected not his relations with his more 
 exacting brethren, beyond awakening in them the sense 
 that he was more tolerant than logical. 
 
 During his Charlestown ministry he had been twice 
 invited and urged to settle in New York City. The 
 Fourth and the Orchard Street societies entered iuto a 
 generous rivalry to secure the young minister, but the 
 Charlestown remonstrance prevailed against them. 
 
MINISTRY IN BOSTON. 113 
 
 But now the voice of appeal came once more from the 
 Fourth Society, a young and growmg and ambitious 
 assemblage of thrifty men and aspiring women, who 
 shared some of the best blood hi Gotham. In fact, a 
 delegation came to him in the bold determination to 
 assume full powers and negotiate a settlement before 
 they returned. Sharing m large degree the New York 
 aptness for setting forth the greatness and prospect of 
 their city, it was a tempting perspective they opened 
 before him, and it failed not to tell on his heart and 
 hope. 
 
 Variously biassed, he accepted the call to New 
 York, and on the 5th of February, 1848, wrote his let- 
 ter of resignation, a brief and business-like note. For 
 the effect of his w^ithdrawal on the society he had no 
 anxiety, since he had pretty well assured himself that 
 his successor would be the Eev. A. A. Miner, then a 
 successful minister in Lowell, and now a man known to 
 the whole country and wearmg fitting titles of honor. 
 At the parish meetuig which accepted Mr. Chapin's re- 
 signation, a call was extended to Mr. Miner to succeed 
 him as preacher and pastor ; and on the first Sunday in 
 May, the one in New York and the other in Boston en- 
 tered upon pastorates which were to extend through the 
 remainder of their lives. For thirty-two years Dr. 
 Chapin ministered to his admiring people ; Dr. ]\Iiner 
 is still the honored shepherd of his flock. 
 
 The regret in view of his leaving Boston and New 
 England was general, and among his brother ministers 
 and intimate friends it was especially felt, for he was 
 to them a friend in whose friendship the finest qualities 
 of head and heart were displayed. He was simple. 
 
114 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 franlc, social, tliouglitf ul, affectionate ; and in addition 
 to this, lie was a tower of strength in their midst. And 
 not without some expression of their regard and good 
 wishes for his success m his new field could they permit 
 him to leave them. " AYlien it became known," wrote 
 Eev. Thomas Whittemore, " that his intention to go was 
 formed, there were several sad yet pleasant meetings 
 of his friends. The mind very naturally reverts to one 
 at which the writer was present. The thoughts of all 
 were fixed on the fact of Mr. Chapin's speedy removal 
 to New York. It was the last opportunity of meeting 
 previously thereto, — perhaps the last they would ever 
 enjoy of being all together on the earth. After an hour 
 of free and generous intercourse, and when the party 
 had left the table and convened • in the parlor, a billet 
 was handed to each person, which, on being opened, was 
 found to contain appropriate stanzas. Gathered around 
 the piano, the company with voice and heart, chanted 
 the words in the tune of " Auld Lang Syne." This affec- 
 tionate parting with Mr. Chapin fittmgly took place at 
 the residence of Abel Tompkins, who was the first to 
 welcome the young preacher as he came to this vicinity 
 from his Southern home; and, meanwhile, meeting 
 almost every day, they had mingled their thoughts and 
 sympathies like two brothers. The hymn for the occa- 
 sion was written by Eev. John G. Adams, and breathed 
 the hope of a final meetmg where friends shall no 
 more part : — 
 
 "This thought, loved brother, be with thee, 
 As now thou bid'st farewell 
 To this long tried fraternity 
 With other hearts to dwell." 
 
IX. 
 
 MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 
 
 Ox the first Sunday of September, 1838, a little 
 group of Universalists met in the Apollo Rooms on 
 Broadway, and listened to a service conducted by Rev. 
 William Whittaker. In that day of small things the 
 number assembled seemed hopeful, and the spirit of 
 couage possessed them. Electing Mr. Whittaker as 
 their leader, they continued their meetings, and on the 
 11th of November organized as the Fourth Universalist 
 Society. On the first Sunday of December they began 
 to hold their meetings in the New Jerusalem Church on 
 Pearl Street, and rented at once forty-three of the fifty 
 pews in the humble structure. The remaining seven 
 were soon taken, and there were earnest calls for more. 
 A committee was appointed to look for ampler quar- 
 ters, and a church on Duane' Street, near Chatham, 
 was leased for two years, and on the following April it 
 was occupied. It was the third home of a society not 
 yet a year old. At the close of the two years the society 
 removed to the lecture room of the College of Physicians 
 and Surgeons on Crosby Street. Resting here a couple 
 of months, like an Arabian encampment, it went into 
 its new church on Elizabeth Street on the first Sunday 
 of May, 1841. In three or four years, as if smitten by 
 
116 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 a migratory mania, it sold this cliurch and returned to 
 the Apollo Eooms, where it held its first meetings and 
 from whence it started on its wanderings. 
 
 But if the rolling stone gathers no moss, the moving 
 society had steadily augmented its ranks, and ripened 
 an ambition to do some signal thing at its next turn. 
 In short, it had come to the determination — at least, 
 its leaders had — to engage the Eev. E. H. Chapin of 
 Boston as its minister, purchase a commodious temple 
 in as good a location as possible, and command the 
 favor of the public by its enterprise, while securing to 
 itself the benefits of a great leader and a rare oratory. 
 
 It was no sudden spasm of ambition which thus seized 
 the rising men in this roving assembly of Universalists. 
 For some years Mr. Chapin had been their favorite, the 
 man after their heart, their ideal as leader along the 
 lofty walks of Christian thought and life. Since the 
 time when, in 1S40, he had been providentially delayed 
 on his journey from Richmond to Charlestown by a 
 driving snow-storm, and became a chance occupant of 
 their pulpit for a Sunday, his spirit and voice had 
 haunted the few of them who had made his audience. 
 On various occasions they had, meanwhile, secured his 
 services, and the evidently growing power of the man 
 deepened their desire to claim him as theu- preacher 
 and pastor. Even more than the cooler and calmer 
 Bostonians, it may be, they felt the special greatness of 
 his gifts, and foresaw for him in their city a career of 
 usefulness and fame of no common order. While he 
 was yet a minister in Charlestown they had sent him 
 an urgent call, emphasized by an offer of increased sal- 
 ary, to come and take up the work in their midst ; and 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 117 
 
 their appeal was not imregarded by hiin. In fact, he 
 submitted the matter to his people for their advisement; 
 and they thus addressed his rising thoughts of leaving 
 them : — 
 
 " Eesolved, that this society entertains with unfeigned re- 
 gret even the tliought of the dissolution of a connection which, 
 in our part, is now so harmonious, profitable, and satisfactory ; 
 and confidently hope that our beloved pastor, on his part, 
 will see his path of duty to lay in its continuance." 
 
 This hearty remonstrance modified his view of duty 
 as they hoped it would; and he remained two years 
 longer as their pastor, and supplemented this term by a 
 two years' settlement in Boston. 
 
 But the time had now come for another overture 
 from iSTew York, which, not less urgent than those of a 
 former year, could be emphasized by increased wealth 
 and numbers. Knowing the frame of mind in which 
 the society stood, but bearing no message from it, three 
 men, Messrs. William Banks, Georsre A. Hovt, and J. B. 
 Close, went on to Boston with the solemn purpose not to 
 return till they could bring back the tidings that ]\Ir. 
 Chapin had been secured as minister to the Fourth 
 Universalist Society. In tnie Jacksonian spirit they 
 empowered themselves to act without official advice, 
 and they mutually vowed deafness to a negative answer 
 to their entreaty. 
 
 But they fouud Mr. Chapin in a good condition for 
 listening to their combined eloquence. Since their former 
 invitation. New York had been a growing attraction to 
 his enthusiastic soul. In her rushing and roaring tides 
 of life he felt a sympathetic thrill, as for something 
 
118 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 with which his own bounding pulses kept pace. With 
 a wild zest he had visited the eager metropolis from 
 time to time, and with unspeakable pleasure had kindled 
 the quick enthusiasm of her crowds from platform and 
 pulpit. And hence, on a very broad ground, the appeal 
 of the three men was not unwelcome. But more specifi- 
 cally it called him to a sole pastorship from a divided 
 one, m which, while he was free from friction and an- 
 noyance and even cheered by a personal friendship, yet, 
 by reason of the wide contrast in spirit and style be- 
 tween himself and his senior, he could not have been 
 entirely at his ease. A long and powerful ministry so 
 unlike his own, and constantly suggested by the presence 
 of its revered source, made an atmosphere in which he 
 could but feel a degree of restraint. Hence in the New 
 York call he saw an invitation to a more ideal freedom. 
 But the more potent special bias in favor of the appeal 
 he found in the financial offer of the three men. Mr. 
 Chapin had no love for money, but he had a great need 
 of it. With his generous hand, overruled sometunes by 
 a blind impulse, especially in the bookstores, he scat- 
 tered more than he gathered. As in Charlestown, so in 
 Boston, he found his obligations maturing faster than 
 his income. In his moments of ardor he made debts 
 which came round in his calmer hours to haunt him. 
 It was at this point the New York committee, speaking 
 in their own name, met him triumphantly. They 
 pledged him for three years an increase of a thousand 
 dollars a year on his present salary, and would assume 
 and immediately discharge his unmet dues. Thus va- 
 riously weighted, the scale was made to tip in favor of 
 New York, and the happy three returned to report their 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 119 
 
 victory to their enthusiastic associates, who had w^aited 
 years for this hour to arrive. 
 
 At once a church was purchased on Murray Street, 
 .and on the 7th of May, 1848, Mr. Chapin, then thirty- 
 four years old, entered on his ministry with the Fourth 
 Universalist Society, — a ministry that was to continue 
 unbroken for the remainder of his life, a period of 
 thirty-two years, and which was to be more noted for 
 its fruits than for its duration. Up to this date the mi- 
 grating band had been ministered to by Eevs. William 
 Whittaker, I. D. Williamson, Moses Ballou and Thomas 
 L. Harris. This w^as its period of struggle and self- 
 sacrifice and slow growth. " Ere its days of prosperity 
 were reached," wrote one of the pioneers, " it had a 
 hard and toilsome path to follow. Dark clouds often 
 overshadowed it, but the silver lining was seen, and 
 each one took courage. Faithful men and working 
 women were ready to do and suffer to establish it." For 
 parishes, as for men, it is no doubt good that they should , 
 be called to bear the yoke in their youth ; but of these 
 early toils and contests with limitations, the members of 
 the Fourth Society who came to it after Mr. Chapin's 
 gifts had made it prosperous and popular, have known 
 and thought as little, it may be, as the children of 
 wealthy homes, which were once poor, know and think 
 of the labors and hardships of their parents. 
 
 The installation of ]\Ir. Chapin as preacher and pas- 
 tor to this people took place on the 8th of June. At 
 this service Eev. E. P. Ambler invoked the divine bless- 
 ing. The Eev. I. D. Williamson read a fitting se- 
 lection from the Bible. The Sermon was preached by 
 Eev. Thomas Starr King. The Installmg Prayer was 
 
120 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 by Eev. Menzies Eayner ; tlie Charge and Presentation 
 of tlie Scriptures, by Eev. Otis A. Skinner ; the Eight 
 Hand of Fellowship in behalf of the churches, by Eev. 
 T. B. Thayer; and the Address to the Society, by Eev.. 
 Henry Lyon. 
 
 It was a graceful tribute of friendship in Mr. Chapin 
 to invite the youthful King, then but twenty-four years 
 old, to come on from Charlestow^n, Massachusetts, to 
 preach the sermon on this important occasion. During 
 the years of Chapin's ministry in that city Kmg had 
 been his parishioner, an admirer of his genius and the 
 spirit of his life, cheered and blessed by his sermons, a 
 frequent visitor at his study for philosophical and 
 religious conversation, and more and more his com- 
 panion and friend. In his letters he often referred 
 with pride and gratitude to his pastor. In one of 
 these he wrote : " I love him for his manly and free 
 thought, his enlarged Christian charity, — capable of 
 seeing the excellencies of his opponents and the defects 
 of his own sect, — and, above all, for his practical ap- 
 preciation of the realities of religion and the spiritual 
 world. Seldom have I met a man who with a heartier 
 communion sympathized with a great doctrine which 
 every day becomes more important and more real and 
 more dear to me, — the doctrine of a Universal Provi- 
 dence." But this appreciation *and love were recij)ro- 
 cated, and Chapin was happy to say of his friend at a 
 later day: " His name was felicitous, for he was a star in 
 intellect, — lofty, clear, shining like a star, — and Mng 
 in his large nature, swaying us, ruling us, by the sover- 
 eignty of his munificent love." With the aftection of 
 Paul counselling Timothy, Chapin preached the sermon 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YOEK. 121 
 
 at King's ordination; and now, after two years, Timothy 
 had shown such proficiency in wisdom and eloquence 
 that he was asked to counsel Paul and his people as 
 they were about to enter into new relations ; and his 
 Avise and brilliant discourse justifies the friendly con- 
 fidence which had been reposed in him. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Cliapin begun his work in New 
 York than he was seen to be the right man in the right 
 place. At once were his talents recognized and his 
 success assured. The ardent hope of the leaders of the 
 enterprise found an early fruition in the crowd which 
 came to their church, and was ready to assume respon- 
 sible relations with the movement. Men of wealth and 
 influence sought the best pews, recognizing the cost as 
 trivial in view of the great blessing they got in return, 
 — in the uplifting of thek thoughts, the kindling of their 
 noblest sentiments, the awakening of their imagina- 
 tions, the fostermg of their trust m God and their good- 
 will toward men, and m their newly experienced 
 raptures m the House of God as the waves of a mighty 
 eloquence swept over them. Hither also came the poor, 
 for m full sympathy with them was the preacJier's 
 heart, and to them he j)reached the generous gospel of a 
 common humanity, the innate worth of character, and 
 the bending of God with equal favor over palace and 
 cot in which the law of love has a like fulfilment. Sor- 
 row found a balm of healing in the prayers and sermons 
 of this temple. Here the reformers were encouraged, 
 sinners tenderly pleaded with, the young men inspired 
 and cheered on, the upright in their dealings invested 
 with a mantle of honor, the true statesman heartily 
 approved, the tolerant in spirit commended in the 
 
122 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 name of a broad Christianity, and the pious borne 
 into a diviner atmosphere. With a magnetic oratory 
 he touclied the best life of souls, and they came in 
 crowds to place themselves under his genial and mighty 
 power. 
 
 It was not long before it begun to be manifest that 
 the Murray Street pastor was to become New York's 
 favorite preacher, the one to be most souglit on Sunday 
 and talked of on Monday ; and it became evident that 
 the church, which had been bought on his account for 
 its commodiousness, must on his account be sold as 
 unequal to the demand of the people, and arger quar- 
 ters be secured; for it was now no novel occurrence 
 for eager feet to press to its doors when there was no 
 room for them within, every seat and standing-place 
 being occupied. 
 
 At length a relief from this pressure was sought, but 
 not found, in the purchase of the large church on 
 Broadway, near Spring Street, then owned and occu- 
 pied by the Unitarian Society of which Rev. Dr. 
 Bellows was pastor. On favorable terms, $93,000, the 
 purchase was made, and on the first Sunday of Novem- 
 ber, 1852, the newly acquired temple was taken 
 possession of, with an appropriate recognition of its 
 advantages over the one they had left, and of the fresh 
 hopes and responsibilities of its new occupants. At 
 the evening service " about two thousand people were 
 present, and hundreds went away unable to gain ad- 
 mittance." The new enterprise was inaugurated with 
 an " overflow," which was but a prophecy of the com- 
 ing years of prosperity. One hundred and seventy of 
 the two hundred pews were already rented. And for 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 123 
 
 fourteen years, while Dr. Chapin went in and out as 
 the preacher in this church, its fame in the city, in the 
 whole country, and in foreign lands, as the theatre of a 
 marvellous eloquence, and the oracle of a sweet and 
 saving gospel, a broad and generous Christianity, a 
 universal religion, was far beyond the aspects of the 
 place. Vastly greater than the temple was he of the 
 rapt heart and eloquent tongue who mmistered in it ; 
 and, like a patrician mantle cast over a plebeian form, 
 he covered it with a glory not its own. A roomy and 
 comely building, it was the rare genius of the preacher 
 which filled^ it with an air of the divine, made it 
 solemnly cheerful with great visions of love and hope, 
 turned it into a mount of higher communion and rap- 
 ture, and, year after year, blessed the eager throngs 
 which crowded through its vestibule. 
 
 The notable scene became the frequent theme of the 
 newspaper correspondents, and their sketches were all 
 the more interesting in that so many of their readers 
 had seen the original ; for among the things not to be 
 missed on a visit to New York, was a Sunday at Dr. 
 Chapin's church. Indeed, not a few business men and 
 professional men from all parts of the land, called to 
 make hasty trips to the city, were accustomed to so 
 time them as to include an opportunity of listening to 
 the thrilling eloquence in the Broadway Church. In 
 the weeks or months of their absence the potent spell 
 rested on them, and they were moved to seek its source 
 again and again. From a racy WTiter in the " Salem 
 Eegister," the following sketch is taken as one of the 
 many attempts to portray the scene. He painted it as 
 it appeared to a stranger : — 
 
124 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Approaching tlie liumljle entrance he walks into a long 
 wide entiy^ rather a dark one, — - walks on, his eyes turning 
 right and left, half incredulous, half suspicious there's a hoax 
 about it ; which suspicion, however, is soon dissipated as he 
 comes to the inner doors and spacious gallery-ways ; which sus- 
 picion he is a little ashamed of as one of these doors opens and 
 he looks into the great church, elegantly but modestly finished, 
 made impressive by two rows of pillars reaching from roof 
 to floor, — its Gothic arcliitecture of dark shade relieved by 
 soft light coming in at curtained windows and giving it the 
 devotional appearance. No one seems to offer the stranger a 
 seat, and he thinks he '11 step up stairs ; perhaps the seats are 
 free up there. He goes up and, as he arrives, reads a notice 
 in big letters, " Strangers are particularly requested not to take 
 seats, except under the direction of the trustees." " Gra- 
 cious I that is kind of mean," says our stranger to himself. 
 He keeps saying so to himself, till at last the thought strikes 
 him {curious it did n't strike him before) that every seat 
 in the house is let ! " Well, if a man hires a seat he ought to 
 have it ; " and our pious stranger grows disappointed and 
 charitable at the same moment. The prospect is dubious. 
 It 's too bad. He wanted to hear Chapin in his own pulpit, 
 and amid his own admiring people. He is on the point of 
 leaving the premises. Happy fellow ! he is prevented. He 
 has got there early, and some one has told him he can use 
 one of those boards that run across the windows. He does 
 not hesitate a bit to accept even that fare. He plants him- 
 self on one of the boards. It 's just as good a seat as any, 
 only it is not so genteel. He goes to the farthest one, so that 
 he can look right down on the pulpit, and there he sits. 
 Kow they are beginning to flock in. Group after group pour 
 through the doors and throng np the stairs. Gentility par- 
 ades itself fresh from the tailor's press, and plumed bonnets 
 sail along the aisles to the music of rustling silks. Not half 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 125 
 
 an hour, and those two hundred and twenty-five pews are 
 packed full, while around the doorways, above and below, are 
 throngs who account it no hardship to stand, well knowing, 
 as they do, that that voice will be heard, though it spoke 
 from the remotest corner of a St. Peter's. 
 
 The minister has come in. He came in at a private door, 
 unnoticed by our stranger, who Avas probably watching for 
 him in the wrong direction. There he sits, a stout, fat, robust, 
 swarthy-faced, black-haired, gold-spectacled, genial-looking 
 minister ; and while yet a tardy worshipper or two are tend- 
 ing toward their reserved places, he rises, looks his flock over 
 — as does the shepherd — and announces the hymn, and the 
 tune to which it is to be sung. He reads it in a deep, meas- 
 ured, solemn voice, and as the people look on they see a 
 meaning they did not suspect in that hymn. It touches a 
 chord in them that vibrates, and when the singing begins, 
 it is generally a familiar tune, the whole congregation join 
 — far more devotional is this — and fill the large house with 
 a heartij liarmony. The singing closes, and there follows 
 a chapter of Scripture, pronounced in a resonant, yet sub- 
 dued and effective voice ; and if there occurs in it some pas- 
 sage well-known to his childhood, but become trite through 
 oft repeating, it very likely has for him now a fresh import. 
 It now seems like divine speech indeed. The Scripture is 
 pronounced, and he that pronounces it leans on the open 
 Bible in momentary silence, the congregation still sitting, 
 and begins the utterance of a prayer. It is a short prayer, — 
 obedient to Christian rule, — but comprehensive, leaving un- 
 asked no needful thing, leaving unacknowledged no blessing 
 received. Another hymn, read as before, sang as before, and 
 Whitefield, whom Hume has come twenty miles to hear 
 preach, rises and gives you the text. Perhaps it is in these 
 words : " What think ye of Christ 1 " Twice he repeats it, 
 " What think ye of Christ ? " and the multitude is hushed, 
 nor refuses to be 
 
126 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 "held liy his melodious harmony, 
 In willing chains and sweet captivity." 
 
 He proceeds to tell them that, in this era of general in- 
 telligence, all have soiiie opinion touching Christ ; that the 
 character who, in two thousand years of history, has figured 
 the chief, necessarily enlists a universal inquiry respecting 
 him ; and as number the various answers to the inquiry, so 
 number the classes of men of whom he would speak. There 
 is a Speculative class, a Sceptical class, an Indifferent class, a 
 Faithful class. On these severally he descants, administering 
 rebuke, expressing pity, applying exhortation, according as it 
 seemeth just. He has notes before him, but he scarcely sees 
 them. He grows warm ; holy fire kindles his brow, and 
 the sweat rolls down his earnest flice. He grows bold, his 
 arms sway to and fro, indignation flashes in his eye ; and he 
 does not refrain to affirm that he would rather see a man stay 
 at home of a Sabbath and study his Bible, though he study 
 to refute, than see him come up with grave visage to slumber 
 under the droppings of the sanctuary. Again he softens and 
 becomes tender. His countenance beams with triumphant 
 hope, and he pleads the matchless love of the Son of God. 
 
 Now he has forgotten all about his notes. Perhaps he 
 "wonders how he ever wrote those dumb words. Yea, he 
 seems to have forgotten the words he spoke in the beginning; 
 for now, with arms uplifted and voice ringing through the 
 vaulted church, he declares : " Finally, brethren, there are 
 but two classes of men in the Avorld ; one has turned its 
 back on Christ and, forgetful, reckless, grovelling, hurries in 
 its downward course, unenlightened by gospel truth, unsus- 
 tained by redeeming love; the other, a glorious company, 
 with face toward the living Jesus, presses upward with more 
 than mortal confidence, sometimes falling a step backward, 
 but, ever brave, ever strong, it gathers energy and struggles 
 on to reach the great high place. Ob, he sees them in the 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 127 
 
 rauks uimumbereil, their spiritual armor girded on, their 
 lances couched aud glistening in the heavenly effulgence. 
 Let us join -them. There is Paul away up there, the halo of 
 glory about him. There are saints waving palms and beckon- 
 ing us thither, and the strings of celestial harps are sounding. 
 Let us join the jubilant array ; let us live forevermore! " 
 
 The sermon is preached. The preacher is silent, for a 
 moment silent. The still audience draws the long breath 
 that eases the overcharged heart, and he, leaning forward, ut- 
 ters the simple prayer of the Saviour. Another hymn, the 
 benediction, and the congregated people retire slowly, 
 thoughtfully, feeling wiser, better, happier, their fraternal 
 sympathy strengthened, their sense of responsibility increased, 
 and revolving perchance, in the recesses of the heart, those 
 words of solemn signihcance : — 
 
 " Our life is short ; 
 To speud that shortness basely — 'twere too long. " 
 
 In the crowded vestibule, which the above writer 
 calls " a long, wide entry," the standard mqniry was : 
 "Does Dr. Chapin preach today?" And a negative 
 reply to this question sent a shadow of disappointment 
 over the heart, and set the feet to moving away in 
 quest of some other temple wdiere eloquence was to be 
 heard, or to seek one or another of the many attractions 
 of the city to a stranger. But now and then it hap- 
 pened that this inquiry was omitted, and strangers 
 took their seats to find, not Dr. Chapin in his acois- 
 tonied place, but some clergyman who had been called 
 to conduct the service for the day. At once the retreat 
 began, and, singly or in groups, timidly or boldly, the 
 disappointed ones left the church. To spare his sen- 
 sibilities the strange minister was ordinarily notified, by 
 the sexton or some trustee, of this unavoidable occur- 
 
128 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 rence ; but not every one met the case so coolly as did 
 the philosophical Scotchman, Rev. A, G. Laurie, who 
 thus relates his experience: — 
 
 I had beeu warned tliat, seeing a stranger in his pulpit, 
 the people would leave. " All natural," said I. And leave 
 they did. In the vestibule, group after group whispered the 
 sexton, and turned out. When I reached the jiulpit the 
 dribble increased. As I rose to the second hymn, half a 
 dozen in the gallery slided to the door. Then said I : " I know 
 that from all the country, visitors in 'New York Hock to this 
 cliurch to hear Dr. Chapin. None is gladder than I that 
 they do. None considers it more natural, than that when 
 they see another in the pulpit, many should leave. I am 
 pleased to see that, from consideration for the quiet of those 
 who stay, the leavers move gently. I shall therefore sit 
 down for two minutes, that those who have come to hear 
 Dr. Chapin may go freely, and leave in peace those who have 
 come to worship God." 
 
 The reader will not fail to find in this generous 
 acquittal a shrewdly administered rebuke. 
 
 Into the fourteen years of his Broadway ministry 
 came the three years of our Civil War ; and it was to no 
 ordinary test that the patriotism and courage of Dr. 
 Chapin were subjected. His was largely a parish of 
 merchants, and some of these were not only engaged 
 in a Southern trade, but were also the victims of a 
 pro-slavery bias. Of their opinions they were tenacious, 
 and of reproof for holding them they were feverishly 
 jealous. In the city their party was large and some- 
 what defiant, and in many instances its individual 
 members would hush the voice of the pulpit from its 
 advocacy of the Union cause. Dr. Chapin was thus 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 129 
 
 confronted ; but he kept the even tenor of his way as a 
 patriot, and now and then, under provocation, smote 
 the opposition with a telhng blow. Around his pulpit 
 for many months he kept the national flag gathered in 
 graceful folds, and into his sermons and prayers he 
 steadily breathed the spirit and often introduced the 
 theme suggested by the sacred symbol. 
 
 But not unfrequently amid his sharp rebukes of the 
 spirit of the rebellion, active in the South and sympa- 
 thetic and illy concealed in the North, and his outspoken 
 encouragement of the aim to subdue it, were there 
 demonstrations of disapprobation and even enmity in 
 one and another of his congregation. In several in- 
 stances he openly resented these displays of opposition. 
 Thus, as one slammed a pew door and tramped heavily 
 down the aisle, he said : "I shall not go out of my way 
 to seek these topics, but when they are fairly before 
 me I shall not turn aside to avoid them, though your 
 pew doors should clap to like platoons of musketry." 
 On one occasion he read an anonymous letter to his 
 congregation, which he had just received, and m which 
 his preaching was characterized in bitter terms, and 
 then made the broad announcement to his people : 
 " AVhile you have absolute control of your temple, you 
 have no authority over my conscience." 
 
 A lover of peace and harmony, and alarmed at war, 
 he still confessed the dread necessity of resort to arms 
 under the circumstances, and followed the councils of 
 State and the national army w^ith an intensity of anx- 
 iety and hope which robbed him of his sleep. By our 
 reverses m battle he was greatly depressed, and by 
 our victories he was not less elated From Europe, 
 
 9 
 
130 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 whither he went in 1862 to seek rehef from his l3odily 
 infirmity, he wrote to a member of liis society : " I liave, 
 like every loyal American, been very much troubled 
 about our dear country. I think the aspect of affairs is 
 better now — better, not so much on account of great 
 military movements and victories, as on account of the 
 renewed loyalty and consolidated feeling of the North. 
 The result of all that I have seen thus far is, if possible, 
 an increase of love for the institutions of my native 
 land, and a confirmation of my faith in true democracy." 
 On his return, his spirit had lost none of its loyalty, 
 but his voice had gained in power, and m his pulpit, on 
 the platform, at the raising of flags, he eloquently advo- 
 cated his country's cause. In her interest, struggling 
 thus with fate, he wrought out some of his mightiest 
 thoughts and his most telling rhetoric. 
 
 But it was reserved for Mm at the close of the war, to 
 make, before the State officials and the assembled cit- 
 izens, one of the most pathetic and jubilant and there- 
 fore thrilling speeches of his life, — on the return of 
 the battle-flags to the custody of the Commonwealth. 
 By these shattered and soiled symbols, brought from 
 the fields of conflict and hard-earned victory, he was 
 deeply moved. They touched his patriotism, kindled 
 his pride in view of the sovereignty of the Eepublic, 
 reassured his hope of the future, moved his sense of 
 honor and humanity toward the brave men who had 
 returned with sunburnt faces and scars, bearing these 
 tokens of their loyalty, or had fallen in tlie bloody 
 strife, still cheerhig on their standard-bearers, and 
 awakened his sorrow and pity for the jnany sad homes 
 which the war had stricken. Thus aroused by the 
 
Aged 46. 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 131 
 
 suggestions of the occasion, he rose to one of the mem- 
 orable triumphs of his eloquence. 
 
 From the Broadway Church, ever to be remembered 
 as the temple in wdiich Chapin won many of his great- 
 est triumphs of oratory, in which a host of souls were 
 thrilled, cheered, comforted, made more rich in spirit 
 and firm in faith, the society removed, in December of 
 1866, to its new church at the corner of Fifth Avenue 
 and Forty-fifth Street. On this temple it has expended 
 nearly a quarter of a million of dollars, and now" holds 
 the property free from debt. Here also for a period of 
 fourteen years, as in Eroadway, the great preacher 
 taught the people, and made many souls happy and 
 .strong in the spirit of the broad and sweet gospel he 
 inculcated. This was to him a sacred shrine, smce it had 
 been created under the inspiration of his own ministry ; 
 and here he set forth the mature and chastened thought 
 of his later years. To the crowd his presence became 
 less magnetic, his voice less thrilling, his message less 
 captivating ; but to souls seeking nearness to Christ, and 
 spiritual communion and the hopes of religion, his Fifth 
 Avenue ministry was especially helpful. With a di- 
 minished force, his services assumed a riper and richer 
 spirit. 
 
 In Mr. Chapin's New York ministry there appears 
 an evident growth of interest in the institutions of 
 Christianity and in the Church-days. More and more 
 he emphasized these in his thought and speech. To 
 Christmas, Palm Sunday, and Easter he gave his wdiole 
 heart, and on these occasions his services were distin- 
 guished by fitness and fervor. Nor was he unmindful 
 even of some of the Saints' Davs, as tliev came round in 
 
132 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the circle of the Church-year. In these traditional 
 seasons he found a historic witness of the reality and 
 power of the religion of Christ, and a fitting appeal to 
 special ideas and sentiments connected with the king- 
 dom of God and the growth of the soul. Ever was he 
 in the spirit at the church-meeting and the communion 
 table, and seemed grateful for the nearness of his Savior 
 on these occasions. 
 
 But amid the array of forms and the recurrence of 
 festivals, he wanted no creed to limit or rule his mind. 
 In these high hours he would have before him the 
 personal Christ, and not a formulated theology. He 
 once said : " I do not know of any other Church standard 
 than this — the life of Christ, the spirit of Christ;" 
 and at the great Centennial Mass Meeting of Univer- 
 salists held in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where the 
 American branch of the order started, he said, in a 
 sermon given at the service of holy communion : " There 
 is a deeper Church than the Universalist Church; it is 
 the Church of Christ." 
 
 At his annual church-meeting, over which he was 
 wont to preside, a worthy brother, revering the creed, 
 was accustomed from year to year to move the adoption 
 by the church of the Winchester (Universalist) Con- 
 fession of Faith ; but, writes one who was regularly 
 present, " the Doctor would at once become excited, and 
 oppose it vigorously." But out of regard to the Doctor's 
 wish in the case, the annual motion was withheld at 
 the meeting following his death, its maker saying: "I 
 should expect, if I made it, to see the Doctor start out 
 from the desk, and resist it as he always did." 
 
 To the waiting and eager crowds which assembled in 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 133 
 
 his cliurch, Dr. Cliapin was wont to come as from a 
 Mount of Transfiguration. .From wrestling with his 
 theme and with the Holy Spirit, it may be for hours, 
 he came thoughtfully, silently to the temple, and 
 needed not to warm his heart after reaching his pulpit, 
 for it was already on fire. In the busy season of lec- 
 turing, when, as Dr. Sawyer tells us, " it w^as no un- 
 common thing for Imn to leave home on the first train 
 out of New York on Monday morning, and not enter 
 his own door until Saturday evening," he often spent 
 the Saturday night — save that he would catch an hour 
 or two of rest on the sofa in his study — in his prepara- 
 tion for the Sunday. When others were asleep he was in 
 the rapture of unfolding some great topic, or of holding 
 face to face converse with the source of all inspirations. 
 Under the wakeful stars he contmued his rapt vigils. 
 
 The Sunday mornings he habitually gave to thought 
 and prayer, mainly the latter, in the seclusion of his 
 study. Even when away from home, and to occupy a 
 strange pulpit, he sought this sacred privacy in which 
 to kindle the flame of love and worship on the altar of 
 his heart. " Before starting for church," says his inti- 
 mate friend Charles A. Eopes of Salem, from whose 
 door he went annually, on one of his vacation Sundays, 
 to occupy the Universalist pulpit in that ancient city, 
 " he kept his room ; and on his way to church he was 
 all absorbed, silent, did not w^ant to talk ; but he was 
 like a boy when his work w^as over." At home his 
 retirement within himself and oblivion of others, that 
 he might make ready for his public service, was more 
 marked. He seemed to become lost in musing and 
 devotion ; and it was ordinarily by the urgent importu- 
 
134 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 nity of liis wife that lie was drawn away from these 
 moods, to take his seat in the carriage tliat was waiting 
 to carry him to church. She rarely succeeded in get- 
 ting him there in time. Oftener "than otherwise he 
 entered his pulpit ten or fifteen minutes late, especially 
 in the most active years of his life. Even when to her 
 importunity was added a resolution passed by the board 
 of trustees, suggesting greater promptness, he still left 
 his private sanctuary reluctantly and lingeringly. To 
 the church he was wont to ride in deep thought. Si- 
 lently, or with the fewest words possible, the sexton 
 handed him the notices for the pulpit, for at all inter- 
 ference he .was manifestly impatient. In the words of 
 one who had heard him for thirty years, and knew him 
 intimately, "he w^anted no one to come between him 
 and his preparation." Even the form of courtesy he 
 would violate rather than imperil the mood of emotion 
 and power into which he had raised his spirit. Happy 
 and .sovereign in his ardor, he thus jealously guarded 
 the ecstatic spell he had drawn on by his meditations, 
 as the Sibyl inspired herself by her contortions, and 
 would reach his pulpit with the liame undiminished. 
 
 Into the whole service the sacred impulse was borne, 
 but it gave to his first words a magical sway. Even 
 though spoken in seeming calmness, his earliest utter- 
 ance betrayed the heat of pent-up fires, and his hearers 
 swiftly put themselves to watching and waiting for the 
 bursting out of the suppressed flames. As Minerva is 
 said to have sprung in full armor from the brain of 
 Jove, so Chapin came to the church with eloquence 
 fully developed in his soul, and ready to leap forth a 
 spirit of beauty and power; and his audience became 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 135 
 
 at once aware of this full-grown Presence. Instead of 
 making an anvil of his congregation, on which to ham- 
 mer his coldness into a pleasing and effective warmth, 
 he had generated the needed glow in advance, and there 
 was an instant kindling of hearts to his preliminary 
 words. A writer in " Harper's Weekly " discovered this 
 swift command of attention, and wrote of it in the fol- 
 lowing terms : " Before the appearance of the preacher 
 the suppressed hum of voices in conversation struck a 
 stranger as irreverent, but the first tones of his voice 
 wove a spell which hushed and subdued the mass of 
 humanity before him till the final Amen was uttered." 
 
 It was by no ordinary labor that Dr. Chapin brought 
 his parish to its rare degree of prosperity. Not only 
 was he intensely active on Sunday from early morning 
 till late in the evening, but on no day of the week did 
 he find leisure. By temperament he was an enthusias- 
 tic worker at whatever he laid his hand to; and by 
 reason of his superb execution, tasks crowded upon him 
 with a clamorous demand. Eeviewing his ardent and 
 often excessive toils he once said to a friend : " I look 
 upon my career as if I had been driving a coach and 
 four at a rapid rate down the side of a mountain." But 
 so dominant was his impulse to drive on and make the 
 longest distance in the shortest time, that he seemed in- 
 capable of checking his speed even when he was con- 
 scious of peril. He could not be a moderate toiler. 
 He only took rest when he was spent, as the wheels of a 
 mill halt when the head-water or the steam is exhausted. 
 When the vital machinery broke by overuse or misuse, 
 as it did now and then, he stopped, but reluctantly, to 
 make the necessary repairs. 
 
136 LIKE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The making of two sermons a week was his regular 
 task, and by an imperious demand they had to be ser- 
 mons of no ordinary merit. They must equal the great 
 fame of the speaker, and the vast and intelligent assem- 
 bly to which they were to be delivered. To be in his 
 pulpit twice every Sunday was the rule of his ministry, 
 the burden imposed on him by his fame, the tax laid on 
 his distinguished gifts. On this basis liis salary had 
 been in a measure adjusted, and many of the pews 
 rented ; while he could but feel an obligation to the 
 many strangers from all parts of the land, who came to 
 hear his voice and be blessed by his message, — to re- 
 spect their desire and honor their compliment. " Few 
 ministers," said Dr. Bellows, addressing Chapin's people, 
 " have been so constantly in their own places on Sun- 
 day as Dr. Chapin. Indeed he has so much spoiled 
 you for any voice except his own, and has so made this 
 church a place of eager pilgrimage from the hotels and 
 strangers' homes in New York, that it has been a sort 
 of necessity that he should steadily occupy his own 
 pulpit, and speak to his ow^n audience." By reason of 
 this necessity he became a maker of sermons to an ex- 
 tent seldom required at the hand of a minister, and has 
 left the marvellous number of eighteen hundred and 
 twenty-five manuscripts. The traditionary " barrel," 
 which the clergyman is said to turn every now and 
 then, would hardly hold this bulk of written paper. It 
 makes the brain weary to think of the vast amount of 
 thought it must have required to treat nearly two thou- 
 sand themes, and to treat them freshly and strongly ; 
 and the hand shrinks before the immense manual toil 
 involved, as the old clock grew tired and paused under 
 
MINISTEY IN NEW YORK. 137 
 
 the contemplation of the millions of strokes that would 
 be required of it. It would not be too much to say- 
 that Dr. Chapin wrought out in sermons at least two 
 thousand topics, giving to them hard study and exhaust- 
 ing emotion ; for many of his manuscripts must have 
 been given away, or used up by the printers in making 
 his printed volumes and in^ newspaper offices, while few 
 of his briefs from which he spoke in his pulpit are 
 preserved. 
 
 But the making of sermons to this extent was only 
 a small fraction of Dr. Chapm's labors. He was the 
 pride of the city, and in demand on countless occasions 
 which requhed special and sometimes extensive prepar- 
 ation. His name was sought to rally the public, and 
 his voice to add delight to the hour in which the people 
 met. Speaking to his congregation at the twenty -fifth 
 anniversary of his settlement, Dr. Armitage said : — 
 
 There was a time when it was your sole privilege to 'love 
 and honor and trust your pastor, because then he belonged 
 to you. So there was a time wlien the Kooli-i-noor diamond 
 belonged exclusively to the man who discovered and prized 
 and hoarded it. But its possession in the diadem of Great 
 Britain, for a quarter of a century or so, has made it the prop- 
 erty of the whole empire; just as the weight and worth and 
 soul-light of your pastor, for twenty-five years, have made 
 him the property of this whole metropolis. 
 
 Ever was his voice at the call of humanity, for he 
 had not the gift to say No where his heart was enlisted. 
 The tw^o words Temperance and Charity were enough 
 to rally him under any circumstances, and lead him 
 forth m heat or cold, in calm or storm, to make his 
 stirring appeals ; and it was no uncommon thing for 
 
138 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 him to hunt his way to two platforms in a single even- 
 ing, in order to serve two distinct causes. He would 
 often go to grace a festival wdth his feryor and wit, for 
 he was not averse to toiling m the interests of pleasure ; 
 but he loved better to give himself to the more serious 
 demands of society for his services. 
 
 It was his special delight to aid a weak church and 
 encourage a struggling minister, by the gift of a lecture 
 in their behalf ; and in this matter he was quite indif- 
 ferent about denominational names and lines. In nearly 
 all the temples in and around New York, and there were 
 many of them, which sought to escape the scorn and 
 shame of death by debt, through getting some money 
 by lectures, his eloquence — and he was never more 
 eloquent than on these beneficent occasions. — was 
 sooner or later heard. Full w'ell he knew the value of 
 his gift to such enterprises, and he was happy to place 
 it at the service of all who needed it. He would some- 
 times foresee the demand and volunteer his aid. In a 
 cordial letter to the presiding officer on his twenty-fifth 
 anniversary, Eev. Dr. Burchard sent the following 
 testimonial : — 
 
 Dr. Chapin and myself have stood side by side as per- 
 sonal friends, as advocates of virtue, temperance, and human 
 rights, for the past twenty-five years. During that time I 
 have received from him many tokens of personal esteem and 
 brotherly kin(hiess. When in a season of unparalleled and 
 protracted suffering, and apparently nigh unto death, he came 
 to my bedside and offered fervent prayer, and spoke words of 
 comfort and hope. Since then my heart has been in full 
 sympathy with him. When the twenty-fifth anniversary of 
 my own pastorate was near at hand, and I was desirous that 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 139 
 
 it should be celebrated over a church entirely free from an 
 ojjpressive debt, he was among the first and the freest to re- 
 spond to the call for sympathy and aid, by offering to give 
 one in a course of lectures wliich crowned the effort to 
 relieve the burden. 
 
 This, however, was only one of the many hands 
 which, inspired by his generosity, could liave sent a 
 grateful testimonial to the large and happy group gath- 
 ered around him at the close of the twenty-five years of 
 his New York ministry; and each tribute would have 
 been an indication of the labors he took upon himself 
 apart from the making of tw^o sermons a week. 
 
 But we must follow Mm into the wide lecture-field, 
 stretching from Maine to Illinois, if w^e would get a 
 fuller view of the extent of his toils. Durins half 
 of the year, for many years, he spent most of the days 
 in the cars, and of the evenings on the lectare-platforms; 
 and often a part of the night had to be taken from the 
 hours due to sleep, that he might make some distant 
 point to meet an engagement. These constant trips 
 were often attended by special hardships and expos- 
 ures : cars too cold or too hot, rides in sleighs through the 
 sharp air of mid-winter, meals at irregular hours and of 
 every possible order of badness, — from bad materials 
 to bad cooking, — and the worst of beds in the worst 
 of rooms. Amid one of these trials of body and soul 
 he was happily sketched by the facile pen of George 
 William Curtis : — 
 
 Some years ago, in the height of his prosperous lecturing 
 career, the Easy Chair met him at the Albany Eailroad station 
 in the early evening of a winter day. He M-as snatching " a 
 
140 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 bite " and a cup of coffee ; and, as the bell rang, they hurried 
 to the train, Chapiu carrying a lumbering bag and shawls, 
 and laughing and joking as they climbed into the car. He 
 had been out all the week, starting early on Monday morn- 
 ing, after preaching twice on Sunday. He had lectured every 
 evening during the week, travelling hard all day. " Up be- 
 fore light," he said gayly, "eating tons of tough steaks and 
 bushels of cold apples, whizzing on in these stifling cars, and 
 turning out just in time to swallow a cup of tea, and off to 
 the lecture." It was tremendous work, as only the fully ini- 
 tiated know. But he made it all a joke, and his swift tongue 
 flew humorously on from incident to incident, and presently 
 began to discuss the new books and the new articles in the 
 magazines with sharp and just discrimination. Suddenly the 
 train stopped, evidently not at a station. The night was cold 
 and stormy. Presently the conductor passed, and Chapin 
 asked to know the reason of the delay. The conductor re- 
 plied that there was some derangement of the locomotive, 
 and Chapin said quietly, " This is bad business for a man 
 who has to preach at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning, and 
 whose sermon is not begun." His companion remonstrated ; 
 but Chapin's eyes twinkled as he answered : " Oh, you lay- 
 men know nothing about it. Burns sang the Cotter's Satur- 
 day Night, but the Minister's Saturday Night is yet unwritten. 
 At least," he said laughing, "this one is likely to be unwritten." 
 It was past midnight when the train reached the city. "Good- 
 night," cried the hearty voice. " Go home and go to bed ; I'm 
 going to w^ork." The next time the Easy Chair met the 
 preacher, it asked about that sermon. "Oh, that was all 
 right. I went home, and there was a bright fire in my study, 
 and a brew of hot coffee, and I finished that sermon just as 
 the sun rose." And the next morning probably he was off 
 again for another week of the same kind. 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 141 
 
 Only the toughest fibre of flesh, cheered by a spirit 
 which made the best of the situations, could have en- 
 dured such wear and tear of the constitution for a score 
 of years as he seemed to ; but to this exposure we 
 must ascribe in part, no doubt, the fact that he broke 
 in health at sixty and died at sixty-six. 
 
 But in forming an adequate schedule of Dr. Chapin's 
 labors the fact must not be left out of the account 
 that he was a constant and vehement reader, when not 
 otherwise employed. He w^as a man of books and 
 of eager reading habits to an extent equalled by but few 
 in our land. For a period of twenty years, between 
 his earlier ministry when his purse was thin, and his 
 later ministry when his powers were spent, there is 
 little doubt that he averaged buying a book a day ; and 
 of these volumes, always of a high order, often exhaustive 
 treatments of the greatest themes, he gained more or 
 less knowledge by his swift mental activity. He swept 
 over their pages with an eager glance for their salient 
 points, as an eagle sweeps over the landscapes. He 
 wrestled with their great themes, not critically and 
 patiently, but with an intensity of interest and aim of 
 which but few minds are capable. And to books he 
 added, to a prodigal extent, newspapers and maga- 
 zines, whose columns he scanned with a swift glance. 
 Around him in his study these lighter issues from 
 the press swarmed in a wide-spread confusion, and 
 wherever he went were his companions. At all times 
 and in all places, where propriety did not forbid, he 
 was reading. A characteristic scene is set before us 
 in the following period from the pen of George William 
 Curtis : — 
 
142 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIX. 
 
 His old associates on the lecture platform will never for- 
 get his cordial greeting in the car, as he looked up from the 
 last new book on theology or philosophy or science or fic- 
 tion, one hand resting upon the travelling-bag distended with 
 the latest reviews and magazines, European and American, 
 while the other grasped the new-comer, and drew him to a 
 seat, and to a flood of merry, shrewd, kind, humane conver- 
 sation that followed. 
 
 To be asleep, or intensely active, was a necessity of 
 his being ; and as a lover of books, bibliolater, in fact, 
 his activity, to a large degree, took the form of reading. 
 
 As a pastor he was not given to going from house to 
 house, as most clergymen do ; but he was very faithful to 
 the sick and the sorrowing, and made no discrimination 
 between the rich and the poor in his attentions, — or if 
 any distinction, it was one in favor of the latter. Notices 
 of sickness among his people, and of funerals which oc- 
 curred in his absence from the city, were often left with 
 the sexton ; and for these he would inquire on Sunday, 
 and embrace the earliest opportunity to make his pas- 
 toral visits. But for the ordinary " call " he had little 
 aptness and less inclination. He was not a patient 
 waiter while the lady of the house lingered to dress her 
 hair and robe herself in finer attire. Having no book 
 or magazine along with him, he knew not liow to oc- 
 cupy the restless moments, but only counted them by a 
 frequent gaze at his watch, and computed their value if 
 devoted to study. The brevity of the touch-and-go in- 
 terview forbade the drawing on of any congenial rush 
 of thought or feeling, and he was not content or at ease 
 in conversation if he were not kindled. If not thus 
 made self-forgetting he was painfully self-conscious, 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YOEK. 143 
 
 silent or hesitant in speech, bothered to know what to 
 say next, awkward with his hands, ill at ease generally, 
 and wishing himself away. He did not like to meet 
 strangers when he felt there rested on him the duty of 
 making the time pass profitably. While he was a happy 
 frequenter of a few homes, he shunned the many, as 
 one who felt he could neither derive nor impart any 
 benefit from the few moments he might be able to spend 
 in them. 
 
 To the end of his days Dr. Chapin was the persistent 
 and ardent laborer, and often w^ent to his tasks when he 
 should have gone to his bed, or on some restful excur- 
 sion. Far beyond the measure of his strength were the 
 desire of his heart and the urgency of his will. " His 
 fiery soul was untamed by sickness or age," said Dr. 
 Pullman, his friend and neighbor m the ministry, " and 
 only physical infirmities checked him from the drivy 
 and push of his best days." He often preached when 
 he had to climb the pulpit stairs by the aid of the rail- 
 ing, and to lean on the desk, while speaking, in order to 
 make himself secure. In the midst of the most acute 
 pains he would rise from his sofa and go and deliver his 
 sermon or attend a funeral. As his physician, the cele- 
 brated Dr. James R "Wood, was one day prescribing for 
 him, tlie hour came for him to go to his church to speak 
 to a group of mourners who were to pause there on 
 their way to the cemetery with their cherished dust, 
 that they might have the comfort of his trustful 
 prayers and hopeful words. The Doctor said to him, 
 " Mr. Chapin, you are not able to go to the church." 
 " Well, I am able to be carried there," was the reply. 
 " But you cannot ascend the pulpit after you are there," 
 
144 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 added the physician. "Then I can stand in front of 
 it," was the response. " But you are not strong enough 
 to stand," replied tlie man who had his health in 
 charge. " Then I can sit and talk, which is the more 
 apostolic manner," was the rejoinder. " You will faint 
 away," said the Doctor, striving to set before the sick 
 man the most dubious prospect. " If I do," was the 
 reply, " somebody will come with a smelling-bottle and 
 brinfj me to, and I shall "o on." When the carriage 
 came for him he made his way to it with painful effort, 
 and went to the funeral, leaving his faithful physician 
 in his library. 
 
 He not only contended thus with pain and weak- 
 ness, but with a serious embarrassment caused by his 
 false teeth, which the best of dentists in his latest years 
 could not make secure in their place. They seriously 
 checked at length his freedom of utterance, and utterly 
 kept him back from those moments of abandon and 
 high climax in which he so much delighted and from 
 whence he sent forth his most characteristic power, for 
 he feared their fidelity to their duty. By reason of 
 their treachery he was compelled to move cautiously 
 and timidly in his discourse, and it may be on this ac- 
 count he gave up extemporizing, since he could not be 
 as self-conscious and sure of his safety as in reading. 
 He was often in the dentist's hands, and not seldom at 
 his church on Saturday to test some new workmanship, 
 that he might know how far to trust it on Sunday. But 
 he took up the cross heroically and would not lay it 
 down. Like a Spartan he fought with all of his infirm- 
 ities, but a stronger fate compelled him to yield inch 
 by inch the sharply contested ground. 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 145 
 
 In consideration of liis growing ailments and evident 
 need of assistance, the people from time to time brought 
 before him, in some graceful manner, the thought of a 
 colleague or assistant ; but the idea was not a congenial 
 one to him. He saw in it the hint of incapacity in 
 himself, which he was reluctant to contemplate. He 
 avoided the signs of decline in his own powers, as ab- 
 horrent to his heart and will ; and would be blind to 
 the "shadow feared of nlan," which began to w^alk by 
 his side in aspects plainly seen by all other eyes. " It is 
 a fearful thing," said he, while at the zenith of his 
 power, " to have my reputation as a preacher, for I must 
 at length disappoint the people and myself by failing 
 gifts ; " yet he fought against the inevitable to the end, 
 as the wounded hero persists in pressing on in the 
 thick of the battle. To the Xo-surrender order belonged 
 his mighty spirit, — or to the order which gives up only 
 when even the forlorn hope is taken away, and the case 
 is hopeless, but which may surrender then as gracefully 
 as it had contended heroically. Thus was it with Chapin. 
 When at last he was utterly spent, and the flame of 
 life flickered near the socket, and Rev. Dr. Ryder of 
 Chicago, who had been invited by the parish to be its 
 active minister — Dr. Chapin to remain as pastor emeri- 
 tus — went to consult with him about the matter, 
 tenderly introducing the subject, the spent minister 
 exclaimed in ready submission and eloquent phrase : 
 "Oh, I see; I am to vacate the quarter-deck, and you 
 take command ! " Still he never wanted to share the 
 quarter-deck with another, but he would be sole com- 
 mander so long as he could stand in the sacred place of 
 authority and power by leaning on the pulpit. He had 
 
 10 
 
146 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the persistent courage and will of John Wesley, of 
 whom Crabb Eobinson writes : " The last time I saw him 
 he stood in a wide pulpit, and on each side of him stood 
 a minister, and the two held him up, havmg their hands 
 under his armpits." While to such as these life re- 
 mains, and is inspired by its great inner impulses, labor 
 is a necessary part of their existence. They know not 
 how to 
 
 " Husband out life's taper at the close, 
 And keep the flame from wasting, by repose." 
 
 But while Dr. Chapin labored thus faithfully, in his 
 days of health and of infirmity, for the good of his 
 people, he got from them m return for so great de- 
 votion a glad and even proud recognition of his gifts 
 and labors, and a steadily increasing salary, till it 
 reached the Uberal sum of twelve thousand dollars, to 
 which were also added many generous presents. At 
 the twenty-fifth anniversary of his settlement. Dr. Bel- 
 lows said truly, addressing the society, " you could not 
 have found a better minister, and he could not have 
 found a better people." By the law of personal attrac- 
 tion, and the spirit of his ministry, he drew to hunself 
 the ardent and generous, the men and women of heart 
 and impulse, by whom his dues were not likely to be 
 left unrequited, nor any pains spared to add to his 
 happiness. Their first act in his behalf was a bene- 
 faction. Even before he came to them they established 
 their claim to his gratitude, by gathering up and dis- 
 charging his unmet obligations. Not long after his 
 settlement they placed on his life a liberal insurance, 
 with a paid-up policy, — a favor he came near losing 
 through a strange fear of the necessary medical exami- 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 147 
 
 nation. On liis approach to the physician for this pur- 
 pose his heart flew into a wild commotion, and gave so 
 many strokes in a minute as to rule him out of the 
 required exhibit of bodily soundness. The doctor sus- 
 pected his nervousness, and asked him to call again in 
 a few days. In another flurry he came to meet the 
 ordeal, and proved unequal to the test. Not long after, 
 the physician went to his house, caught him in his 
 normal condition, and found his heart behaving so 
 commendably that he at once made out the required 
 certificate of health in his favor. In his best days 
 Dr. Chapin was haunted by the fear of some lurking 
 disease, and never had the courage of a calm self-exami- 
 nation on the side of the flesh. He was more or less 
 the victim of his imagination, and needed that those 
 around him should re-assure hirn of his good condition. 
 But in this instance his timidity came near involving 
 him in the loss of a parish favor. 
 
 Later m his ministry his people were moved by 
 the generous desire to help him to a house and home. 
 They accordingly purchased for him the spacious and 
 elegant residence, No. 14 East Thirty-third Street, at a 
 cost of twenty-five thousand dollars, thirteen thousand 
 of which they paid at the time of the purchase, trusting 
 that from Ins large salary and ample income from his 
 lectures he would be able to pay the remainder ; but 
 the debt stood for years uncancelled. With tlie growth 
 of his means came an equal growth of demands. The 
 house itself, his family, his library, the long train of 
 suppliants for one cause or another, the daily dribble 
 for nameless items, and foreign trips for health and 
 pleasure, kept his income and outgo steadily balanced. 
 
148 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Meanwhile his people had gained in wealth, and had 
 lost none of their pride, gratitude, or generosity in be- 
 half of their eminent preacher ; and when the twenty- 
 fifth anniversary of his settlement came round, they 
 made up a purse of ten thousand dollars to be applied 
 toward the payment for the house. It was a free and 
 spontaneous gift, the overflow of hearts he had him- 
 self filled with reverence for God and good-will to men, 
 and with admiration for his own talents, gratitude for 
 his services, and esteem and love for his character. In 
 presenting the gift to him, before the great concourse 
 of his friends, the Rev. Dr. Pullman rightly said of it : 
 " It is ten thousand thanks to you." 
 
 The presentation occurred in the evening. The after- 
 noon had been given to addresses of reminiscence and 
 congratulation, amid wdiich Dr. Chapin was silent, but 
 deeply affected. The speakers were Rev. Moses Ballon, 
 Dr. Bellows, Dr. Armitage, Rev. J. Smith Dodge, and 
 Rev. E. C. Sweetser. Of the Doctor's silence Mr. Pull- 
 man aptly remarked in opening his presentation address : 
 " It was quite funny to think we had a meeting in this 
 church, and here w%as minister after minister getting up 
 and talking, and for the first time in the memory of man 
 Dr. Chapin was silent. I thought, now we are having a 
 good time; we have Chrysostom bound, the 'golden 
 mouthed ' gagged." But when Mr. Pullman had deliv- 
 ered to him the rich gift, it was his turn to speak, and 
 his words are at once a tribute to the generosity of his 
 people and a witness of his own gratitude : — 
 
 It has been said that I was gagged this afternoon. What 
 do you suppose I am to-night 1 I am gagged all over; 
 mouth and breath and soul, eyes and brains, are gagged with 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 149 
 
 this solid and substantial liberality, and jiobody can expect 
 me to make a speech now. I only desire to extricate myself. 
 I don't exactly know who I am or where I am. I liave been 
 beaten about the head and heart to-day with kindness until I 
 am completely stunned ; and now, to-night, I am overwhelmed 
 with this mountain load, so that I cannot struggle, as it were, 
 out of this generous and blessed encumbrance. What can I 
 do ? I think silence on my part would be more expressive 
 than any attempt at speech. I feel all that you have said 
 and all that this conveys, and this people will credit me 
 enough to know that if I don't make any speech, it is not 
 because I lack feeling, but because I am choked with the 
 sense of this kindness and this respect. I know this is in- 
 deed an honest testimony. This is no back pay ; I am not 
 in need of it. I have been paid amply and generously by 
 this people, and it comes from a treasury of hearts richer 
 than all the treasury of tlie United States, ten thousand 
 times amplified. Every dollar of it is a warm and loving 
 heart-beat, and it throbs with vital sympathy and generosity. 
 My friends, the best I can say to you is that I appreciate it 
 and feel it, and from my heart of hearts I thank you. 
 
 The small unpaid margin due on the house was finally 
 paid by his friends, making the liberal gift of twenty- 
 five thousand dollars in three instalments. But the 
 generosity of the people toward their minister found 
 other channels along which to flow. In several in- 
 stances he" was given leave of absence to make trips to 
 Europe for rest and recovery of health, and meanwhile 
 his pulpit was supplied. In more personal and private 
 ways he was constantly remembered, one hand or 
 another almost daily opening to confer on him a gift. 
 As freely as they had received from him the best of 
 blessings, so freely would they return to him the tokens 
 of their gratitude. 
 
150 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 But the time at length came when the people saw, 
 w^th sorrowful hearts, that their great and loved leader 
 along the paths of the Kmgdom was nearmg the limit 
 of his earthly ministry. AVith the opening of the year 
 18S0 his condition was critical, and there seemed to be 
 little ground on wdiich to base a hope that he would 
 make the circle of the twelvemonth. The services he 
 came to the pulpit to conduct cost him much effort and 
 exhaustion, and the heart of the people was greatly 
 saddened as well as blessed by them. It was the pain- 
 ful view of greatness in ruins, a tender and mighty 
 spirit unsupported by the body in its brave and persist- 
 ent ambition to do yet more for God and man, a gra- 
 cious and powerful friend reduced to \\eakness. " With 
 inexpressible sadness," said Henry Ward Beecher, " I 
 used to meet Chapin in the last months of his life, and 
 say to myself, * The superb machine is shattered by over- 
 use and misuse, and cannot be repaired.' " With a like 
 pity all eyes now looked upon him. But to his own peo- 
 ple, in wdiose hearts he had so large a place, the contrast 
 was most affecting as he stood before them on Sunday, 
 so weak on the throne where they had been wont to see 
 him a very monarch of power, struggling and failing 
 where great inspirations had so often and surely borne 
 him to the grandest triumphs of speech. It was 
 the pathetic view of a heroic friend striving against 
 fate. 
 
 On Palm Sunday he preached his last sermon, and 
 on the first Sunday of May he came to the church to 
 meet his people for the last time. The service in the 
 pulpit was conducted by Eev. J. Smith Dodge, but at 
 the communion table Dr. Chapin received into the 
 
MINISTEY m NEW YORK. 151 
 
 fellowship of the church two old friends, ]\Ir. and Mrs. 
 Seymour J. Strong. It was his final act in the temple, 
 and was a joy to his heart ; for nothing pleased him 
 more than to welcome souls to a visible unity with 
 Christ as the sign and seal of a spiritual oneness. We 
 may well believe he would have chosen to lay down 
 his ministry thus, in his own church and at the cele- 
 bration of the Lord's Supper. 
 
 Advised by his physician to make the trial of one 
 more trip to Europe, he sailed on the 2 2d of May. Be- 
 fore his departure he wrote to his people the following 
 brave and affectionate message; it was his last to 
 them : — 
 
 To the Congregation of the Church of the Divine Paternity. 
 
 My dear Friends and People, — It was my wish and 
 my hope to have spoken to you a few words personally be- 
 fore my departure for Europe, and to have seen you all 
 face to face ; but the condition of my voice and my physical 
 weakness forbid that privilege. Let me then in this man- 
 ner take leave of you for what, I trust, will prove but a short 
 time. Let me thank you for the great kindness, considera- 
 tion, and patience on your part, interwoven with consecrated 
 memories of many years. I exhort yon to be firm in your 
 faith and your loyalty to the church, and the great truths 
 and interests associated with it. Do not forsake these, or 
 become indifferent or discouraged. May God bless and keep 
 you each and all. May He bring us together in due sea- 
 son, to meet in the meditations and the worship of this 
 blessed house. But in luimble submission to His will, I 
 now bid you an affectionate good-bye. 
 
 Your Friend and Pastor, 
 
 E. H. CHAPIN. 
 
152 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The trip proved in vain. The ocean offered no rest, 
 the foreign air no balsam, equal to his great need ; and 
 on the 7th of August he returned to seek the grateful 
 comfort of his home and to be among his people. At 
 his summer home at Pigeon Cove, and in his home in 
 the city, he spent the few remaining months of his life. 
 Under the most watchful care and tender nursing, with 
 his family around him, he yielded patiently and pain- 
 lessly day by day to the course of his disease, which 
 the doctor called " progressive muscular atrophy," — a 
 decline through the failure to absorb nutriment. In 
 the city he lingered in his spacious and cherished study 
 most of the hours of the day, and not a little of his 
 time he spent in prayer and meditation. For one, two, 
 or even three hours at a time would he be thus en- 
 gaged ; and only by the counsel of his physician, and 
 the interference of his wife or the nurse, could he be 
 kept from thus yielding to his spirit to the injury of 
 his body. Called from prayer lie would directly return 
 to it. With the fading of memory, the repose of the 
 mental powers, and the surrender of the will, his soul 
 asserted an undue supremacy, and his altar became to 
 him the chief desire of his life. As all else vanished in 
 the shadows, God and Christ and Heaven came more 
 into view, and early and late he would be with these 
 supreme realities. Pleased to have around him his 
 wife and children and grandchildren, glad to greet the 
 friends who came to see him, ready to give ear to any 
 news of the day which was announced to him, awake 
 to the import of every inquiry made of him, he sought 
 the first moment of relief from these to give himself to 
 worship. It was a marked instance of the " ruling pas- 
 sion strong in death." 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 153 
 
 With unfailing regularity for years he had been 
 accustomed to pray three times each day with his 
 family, beginning and closing the busy hours and paus- 
 ing in their midst with reverent and grateful thoughts 
 to Him who guards the night and fills the day with 
 blessings. "On no account would he set aside his 
 prayers," says his daughter. Nor did lie neglect to 
 mingle with these prayers at the home altar the read- 
 ing of the Word of God ; and habitually he read at the 
 table on Sunday morning the One Hundred and Twen- 
 ty-first Psalm, beginning : " I will lift up mine eyes unto 
 the hills from wdience cometh my help," or the Eighty- 
 fourth, opening with the words : " How amiable are 
 thy tabernacles, Lord of Hosts!" But now in his 
 last days, with no demands of toil on him, and with 
 the shadow\s of earth's night lowering around him, he 
 gave his soul more than ever before to thoughts of God 
 and immortality. Amid the eclipse of the visible, he 
 sought the solacing vision of the invisible, and prayer 
 was the mount on which he stood. 
 
 It was his wish to die in some favored moment when 
 no one, not even himself, should take note of the pass- 
 ing change. From a farewell scene he sensitively 
 shrank. If, as the Arab proverb has it, " Death is a 
 black camel wdiich kneels at every one's gate," he 
 would have no herald to announce its arrival, but would 
 mount as in a sleep. He had made his the sentiment 
 of Mrs. Barbauld expressed in those lines which 
 Wordsworth said he wished he had written : — 
 
 " Jjife ! we 've been long together, 
 Through pleasant and through stormy weather. 
 ' Tis hard to part when friends are dear ; 
 Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear. 
 
154 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Then steal awa}', give little warning ; 
 
 Choose thine own time ; 
 Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime, 
 
 Bid me good mornmg." 
 
 This wish of the sick man's gentle heart was almost 
 completely realized. On Sunday, the 26th of Decem- 
 ber, he woke to greet the morning light and his family, 
 as he had done on a few previous days, in a painless 
 but exceedingly weak condition of body. He spent 
 most of the sacred hours in prayer or in sleep, now 
 and then entering into a brief conversation with those 
 around him, and indulging in one or two bits of pleas- 
 antry. In the evening he grew still weaker, but wished 
 the family to retire and leave him with his nurse, who 
 had come, through his tender and faithful ofhces, to be 
 regarded by him as a friend. He bade them Good- 
 night in a pleasant and hearty tone of voice; and it 
 proved to be his last word to them. The nurse aided 
 him to bed, and in a few moments discovered he was 
 unconscious. Summoning the household, they could 
 only stand by in silence and see the peaceful ending of 
 his mortal life, the closini^ of his brilliant and noble 
 career in which they had shared so largely and richly. 
 Just before midnight he drew his last breath, and the 
 great and gentle soul passed into the company of the 
 redeemed ; 
 
 "And donbtless unto him is given 
 A life that bears immortal fruit, 
 In such high offices as suit 
 The full-growni energies of heaven." 
 
 Alike were the manner and the place of his death 
 after his own choice. No man ever loved his family or 
 his library better than he, and with these around him 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 155 
 
 he spent his last days and hours. He once said : "If I 
 had but four breaths to draw, I would draw one of 
 them amid the sacred privacy of home," naming where 
 he would draw the others. Dear to him were the faces 
 which beamed upon him there, and the friendly books 
 that looked down from their places to greet him. 
 
 For forty-two years Mrs. Chapm had given to him 
 the great strength of her character, the thoughtfulness 
 of her mind, the devotion of her heart ; and he had come 
 to confide in her in very many matters as a child trusts 
 to its mother. In some important particulars she was 
 a fortunate counterpoise to his own deficiences. She 
 was of a singularly firm and even temperament, while 
 he was prone to oscillate between the extremes of ec- 
 stasy and depression, — to-day soaring to the mount of 
 transport, and to-morrow walking pensively in some 
 sombre valley ; and hence it was often her lot to raise 
 him from his moods of despondency, by imparting to 
 hun the cheer of her vision and the fortitude of her 
 will. Her ambition was greater than his, and she 
 spurred him on to achievements he otherwise would not 
 have won, but from the toils of which in some in- 
 stances, most likely, it were better that he had been 
 spared, and urged to seek rest. By her rare adminis- 
 trative talent — a talent not found in the circle of his 
 gifts — she was a constant and efficient aid to him, by 
 wise counsels, as a writer of most of the letters due from 
 his hand, and as a manager of his business affairs. To 
 her he entrusted the entire management of the household, 
 and gave himself wholly to his profession. She heartily 
 shared his interest in the church and in humanity, and 
 carried dignity, a high moral sentiment, and a steady zeal 
 
156 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 into her labors for these great causes. Thus mutually 
 blessed by their four decades of married life, they were 
 not long separated. On the 22d of July, 1881, while at 
 her home at Pigeon Cove, the messenger came unan- 
 nounced and bore her to the side of her absent com- 
 panion ; and from her home in New York her body, 
 queenly in death, was carried to share with his the long 
 repose at Greenwood. 
 
 As he loved and honored his wife, so his heart went 
 out in a strong and tender affection for his children 
 and grandchildren. As a chief pleasure of his life he 
 sat in their midst, and lived and toiled for them. His 
 home seriousness was not of the monkish order, which 
 would forbid jests and smiles, and impose thorny gir- 
 dles. He invited mirth to season the domestic life, 
 and would set the house to ringing with the laughter 
 he provoked by his wit and frolic. Among the chil- 
 dren he was often like a child m playfulness. With 
 impromptu rhymes about their trifles he delighted to 
 divert them, and often tested their skill at solving 
 conundrums, most of wdiich were original and off-hand. 
 A single query put to his daughter in her younger 
 years is characteristic of his sportive habit. She was a 
 short and plump girl, seeming smaller than she really 
 was, and a dark brunette, with a good Spanish face as 
 one would meet in ]\Iadrid ; and he addressed her with 
 the question : " Marion, why are you like a famous 
 Boston publishing house?" She gave it up. "Be- 
 cause," said he, "you are little and brown" (Little & 
 Brown). 
 
 Two sons survive him, Frederic H. Chapin and Dr. 
 Sidney H. Chapin, and one daughter, Mrs. Marion 
 
MINISTRY IN NEW YORK. 157 
 
 Chapin Davison. Of the five grandchildren to whom 
 he gave his patriarchal benediction, little Ethel Davi- 
 son — the pet and companion of his months of sickness, 
 following him through the bookstores, riding with him 
 in the parks, and even going to the Monday ministers' 
 meeting with him, a fresh tendril clinging to the falling 
 oak — has passed from earth, to find, no doubt, her strong 
 and tender earthly friends " watching and waiting at the 
 Beautiful Gate " to give her their hearty welcome, as 
 when, after a night of slumber, she came to them with 
 her fresh morning face. 
 
X. 
 
 PIGEON COVE. 
 
 Between" Massachusetts Bay and Ipswich Bay lies 
 a rocky, grovy, romantic reach of land known as Cape 
 Ann. It is mainly occupied by the three towns, 
 Gloucester, Rockport, and Annisquam. For sea views 
 and sea air it is not surpassed by any part of the New 
 England coast, and we may well believe the tradition 
 that it was a favorite haunt for the Indians, as it is now 
 the chosen summer resort of the cultivated. Even the 
 rudest eye could not miss its charms, nor the most stolid 
 flesh be insensible to the cool and refreshing breezes 
 which, during the heated term, sweep across it. 
 
 The credit of making the first survey of this land is 
 given to Captain John Smith, a romantic English ad- 
 venturer, who came here in 1614, and followed the 
 coast from Penobscot Bay to Cape Cod. Coming fresh 
 from some Oriental adventures, and bringing a grateful 
 memory of the kindness of a Turkish lady whose name 
 was Tragebigzanda, he conferred upon the Cape, though 
 a loyal subject of England", the name of his Moham- 
 medan benefactress. Whittier saw the poetry in the 
 scene and set it m verse : — 
 
 " On yonder rocky Cape which braves 
 The stormy challenge of the waves, 
 
PIGEON COVE. 159 
 
 Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood 
 The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood, 
 Planting upon the topmost crag 
 The staff of England's battle-Hag ; 
 And, while from out its heavy fold 
 St. George's crimson cross unrolled, 
 Midst roll of dmm and trumpet blare, 
 And weapons brandishing in air, 
 He gave to that lone promontory 
 The sweetest name in all his story." 
 
 But a people who cared little for a Turkish woman, 
 and whose tongues did not take readily to the burden 
 of an Oriental term, soon found reason for re-naming 
 their region after their own queen, the gentle Anne. 
 
 The northernmost point of the cape, commanding a 
 full view of Ipswich Bay and an outlook upon the 
 broadest part of Massachusetts Bay, became known as 
 Pigeon Cove, and its most prominent elevation as Pigeon 
 Hill. On their journey north, before crossing the 
 water to New Hampshire or to the coast of Maine, these 
 migratory birds were wont to assemble in great numbers 
 at this point, and to make a landing on their return 
 flight. Even now small flocks of pigeons are often 
 seen here, while they are rarely found in other parts of 
 the State. 
 
 The Cove itself is a sufficient recess in the rocky 
 bluffs to contain a small village, which, before the 
 transformations wrought in the interest of summer resi- 
 dents, was of most humble aspects. To-day the ancient 
 buildings, small and rude in form, quaintly mingle with 
 the larger and more ornamental modern structures, such 
 as boarding-houses and hotels. Nowhere are the con- 
 trasts of old and new more striking. 
 
 Outside of the Cove, stretching along the rugged 
 
160 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN. 
 
 bluffs which rise from the sea to the west, is a rambling 
 street of spacious summer homes, and among these 
 stands the picturesque cottage built by Dr. Cliapin, and 
 occupied, for a decade of summers at least, by the Chapin 
 family. It is located on a site which was a great favor- 
 ite with its builder, commanding an unobstructed sea 
 view, and having a gradually sloping ledge, six or eight 
 rods deep, from its waterside to the ocean, serving as a 
 pleasant promenade. A few rods to the west is 
 " Chapin's Gully, a great notch cut into the shore 
 of solid granite where it is highest and boldest." The 
 notch may be forty or more feet wide, and at its en- 
 trance from the land side is a broad rock, "at low tide 
 half in the water," known as Chapin's Rock. This 
 rocky enclosure seems made for a private bath, and here 
 for nearly thirty summers was Dr. Chapin accustomed 
 to go, with a chosen friend or two, to take his sjiort 
 with the salt sea- water. 
 
 Back of the sea-wall, stretching away toward the vil- 
 lages of Annisquam and Uockport, are most inviting 
 rambles by winding paths, through fresh plots of green 
 sward, and through oak and pine groves, and on to 
 rocky outlooks from which land and sea may be easily 
 scanned, and a hundred vessels counted on a favoring 
 day, with their white sails gleayiing against the dark 
 waters. But beyond Pigeon Hill or some near eminence 
 Dr. Chapin rarely w^andered, preferring to sit on his 
 veranda, with a book in hand or a friend at his side, 
 and to let nature, as land, sky, and sea, drift in on his 
 receptive soul. His heavy form and clumsy walk ruled 
 him out of the company of the liglit nnd nimble, who 
 took happily to long strolls over the rough country. 
 
PIGEON COVE. 161 
 
 And better than he loved the land he loved the sea, 
 and entered with a keen sympathy into all its shifting 
 moods. Its dreamy summer haze, m which the idle 
 vessels seemed like phantoms, soothed him to a delight- 
 ful rest. The storm, darkness, and mystery of its 
 depths, and its boundless reaches, were a perpetual sug- 
 gestion to him of the infinite ; and he could say with 
 the poet : — 
 
 "In gentle moods I love the hills, 
 Because they bound my spirit ; 
 But to the broad blue sea I fly, 
 When I would feel the destiny, 
 Immortal souls inherit." 
 
 He loved the breaking of the day over the waters, 
 and the morning newness and freshness of the ocean 
 air. The broad, white lights, under the mid-day sun, 
 pleased him. The cool eve, at the close of a burning 
 day, the gloaming, the kindling of the lighthouse lamps 
 on the rocky points, the rising of the moon and the 
 brilliant path it lit up across the watery plain, the 
 music of the darkened waves plashing against their 
 rocky wall, — he took in the full inspiration of the 
 evening scene, and went to his night's sleep as from a 
 fitting prelude, to which he would add a reverent read- 
 ing from his Bible and a trustful prayer. Nor was the 
 wild uproar of the storm out of harmony with his soul, 
 wdiich rose gladly with the tumult into the mood of 
 rapture ; and amid the double commotion he would re- 
 peat the lines of Tennyson : — 
 
 " Break, break, break, 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, Sea ! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 The thoughts that arise in me." 
 11 
 
162 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 " If I had but four breaths to draw," he remarked 
 once when speaking in Faneuil Hall, " I should wish to 
 draw one of them in tlie air of home and sacred duty, 
 one of them in the gorge of the "White Mountains, one 
 by the broad and foamiug sea, and the other in old 
 Faneuil Hall." 
 
 But not more by his love of the ocean, more loved at 
 this point, where it had grown familiar and assumed 
 friendly relations than at any other, was he annually 
 drawn to Pigeon Cove, and filled with a boy-like impa- 
 tience as the time drew near for the trip, than by tlie 
 free and happy social life he there enjoyed with his 
 friends, who, from year to year, made it their rule to 
 meet him by the sea. For at least twenty summers he 
 boarded with the Norwoods, who first kept the old 
 Pigeon Cove House and later the new, and here came 
 regularly a group of his Charlestown parishioners, Eich- 
 ard Frothingham and his family, T. T. Sawyer and his 
 family, Starr King, and others, to renew, as fellow-board- 
 ers, happy associations wnth the man they honored and 
 loved. Frothingham and Sawyer finally built their sum- 
 mer homes near the Chapin Cottage. Here he annually 
 met Rev. Henry C. Leonard, than whom he had no more 
 intimate friend, the twain shnring in common gravity, 
 levity, simplicity, and a gift for long sittings in sweet 
 converse. Often his most intimate New York friends 
 came on to visit him at the Cove, since they could rarely 
 find him, or find him unoccupied, at his city home. 
 With the l)urden of ten months of hard toil — in his study, 
 in his pulpit and parish, and on at least a hundred lect- 
 ure platforms from ]\Iaine to Iowa — lifted from his soul, 
 he revelled in his emancipation and gave his heart freely 
 
PIGEON COVE. 163 
 
 to his friends, contributing, as seemed most to their 
 choice, serious converse, or stories and Hashes of wit. 
 
 In his earlier day, at the old Pigeon Cove House, he 
 was the life of the evening in the parlor. Into the 
 games he entered with a zest that was as diverting to 
 the guests as the players themselves. His hearty laugh 
 rang through the building, and his wonted exclamation, 
 "Capital, capital!" as a good hit was made in any piece 
 of sport, was as cheering to others as it was relieving to 
 himself 
 
 If any one ventured, as one now and then did in 
 sport, to play on him some joke, he was sure to parry 
 the undertaking like a skilful fencer, and turn the 
 laugh on the person who made the assault. On one oc- 
 casion, witli mock solemnity of form and speech, a pump- 
 kin, with a face cut on one side of it, was presented to 
 him as a bust wrought by some great artist. The scheme 
 had been conceived and conducted by his friend William 
 H. Eichardson, who made the presentation. Mr. Chapin 
 promptly rose and responded, saying he had " long been 
 aware of ]\Ir. Eichardsou's friendsliip and generosity tow- 
 ard him, and they could all now see, since he could not 
 give him his own head, he had given him the next thing 
 to it." Eeturning thanks he took his seat, and Mr. Eich- 
 ardson took the hearty laugh that followed. With a no 
 less apt reply did he turn back Starr King's attempt to 
 corner him. It was at the dinner table, when all the 
 guests were listening to the banter of the two witty 
 friends, that King said : " Chapin, I have just been think- 
 ing of the difference between you and me. You have rep- 
 utation and I have character." Before the laugh had time 
 to get under way, Chapin replied : " You are right, King. 
 
164 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 I liave a good reputation and you have a bad charac- 
 ter." Mr. King well knew his challenge for a fine retort 
 would bring one, but it is probable he did not foresee the 
 response as it came. 
 
 It was his delight in the earlier years to take two or 
 three good friends, like Starr Kiug and the Eev. Henry 
 C. Leonard, and stroll away to the Chapin Gully, and, 
 after the exhilaration of a bath, to sit on the Chapin 
 Hock and tell stories and frolic with wit, or engage in 
 more serious converse. One can but wish these stony 
 walls might wliisper the wise and merry words which 
 have fallen against them from these lips now silent. 
 More interesting than romance would be the recital ; 
 better than medicine for the dyspeptic would be the 
 hearty laughter thus provoked. As a sample of the 
 feasts here served, a single pun from the lips of Chapin 
 may be repeated. In tliose long-ago days when Starr 
 King was still a Universalist minister, but was often 
 accused, by the " straitest of the sect," of preaching the 
 doctrine too "indefinitely," he and Chapin had just 
 come from a bath, when the former said : — 
 
 "Doctor, I can't hear very well; I have some water 
 in my ear." 
 
 " Well," replied Chapin, " I am glad of it ; anything 
 to make you a little more deaf in it (dcjimte)." 
 
 The sense of the pun is remote but apt, and must 
 have drawn a hearty laugh from him at whose laxity of 
 creed it was so deftly aimed. 
 
 Seated on the Chapin Eock, the brilliant King would 
 sometimes favor the select group with one of his rare 
 readings or recitations. In his most interesting volume 
 on " Pigeon Cove and Vicinity," the Rev. Henry C. 
 Leonard, one of these friendly triumvirs, says : — 
 
PIGEON COVE. 165 
 
 Who of the company that used to ramble with hini 
 (King) will ever set foot on our sliore, or hear the stir of 
 leaves and the twitter of birds in our woods, without a 
 thought of him? Sometimes the ramblers rested an hour in 
 the shade of the pines where the sleeping sea, whispering as 
 if in dreams, just made itself heard. Then he of youthful 
 but regal presence, and of marvellously musical tongue, read 
 the poetry of Wordsworth or the prose of Euskin, making 
 more vital and glowing the thoughts of either. Once, after 
 a stroll and a refreshing bath, the same audience gave ear to 
 the same orator and interpreter, in the amphitlieatre-like pit of 
 Chapin's Gully. None of the company so favored will 
 ever forget the spell of the moments while he recited the 
 stirring, musical lines, then new to all, of Tennyson's "Bugle 
 Song." 
 
 Into the serious or festive moods of the citizens of 
 the little hamlet by the sea Mr. Chapin entered with a 
 quick and unaffected sympathy. On all special occa- 
 sions of sorrow or joy he placed his eloquence at their 
 service. Thus was it when the Atlantic cable had 
 been successfully laid, linking the two lands, England 
 and the United States, in immediate contact, and the 
 people would celebrate the event with a commingling 
 of gravity and festivity. He consented to be the 
 orator of the day, and entered mto all the arrange- 
 ments with a hearty co-operation. From the Pigeon 
 Cove House, where he boarded, were suspended the 
 British and American flags, with the words, " Atlantic 
 Telegraph," made of oak leaves sewed on a white can- 
 vas, stretching between the two flag-poles. England 
 and America were personified in the procession by two 
 young ladies dressed in white; and John Bull and 
 
166 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Brother Jonathan by two men, the one short and 
 phimp, and the other tall and gaunt, and each clad m 
 character. From an old captured gun thh'teen shots 
 were fired in honor of the original States, and one each 
 for England and America. After the reading of a 
 poem by T. W. Higginson, the Poet of the Day, ]\Ir. 
 Chapin mounted the platform, and " from a humorous 
 introduction proceeded to consider the event in four 
 aspects : 1. its Utility ; 2. its Poetry ; 3. its Human- 
 ity ; and 4. its Divuiity, or Providential significance. 
 He closed with an apostrophe to the ocean and the 
 telegraphic wire." To the familiar hymn, sung to the 
 tune, " God Save the Queen," he added the following 
 stanza, which was chanted with emphatic fervor by a 
 thousand voices : — 
 
 "God keep us all in peace ; 
 Let truth and love increase 
 
 Both realms between. 
 Long may the iron band 
 Stretch forth from strand to strand ! 
 God bless our Fatherland ! 
 
 God bless the Queen ! " 
 
 At his boarding-place in the evening there w^as a 
 fine show of fireworks, and " amid the happy scene his 
 clarion voice often rung out in peals of laughter." The 
 occasion, looking to a greater fraternity of nations, had 
 been one to touch the deepest sentiments of his soul, 
 and fill him with joy. 
 
 But amid all the rest, and free and easy social life of 
 the seaside, Dr. Chapin never forgot his ]\Iaker, nor 
 neglected his daily devotions at the altar of worship. 
 No conditions were permitted to rule out his reverence, 
 or to hush his voice of prayer. He was much less a 
 
PIGEON COVE. 167 
 
 wit than he was a worshipper, and no company, how- 
 ever congenial and hilarious, could lure him from his 
 shrine. Wherever the morning and the mid-day and 
 the evening found him, there he set up his altar and 
 suspended every interest of mind and heart that he 
 might engage in prayer. The spirit and habit of the 
 man in this respect are well disclosed by an mcident 
 which transpired in another place. It is related by 
 J. S. Dennis, who was at the time of its occurrence the 
 pastor of the Warren Street Universalist Society in 
 Boston, and an intimate friend of Mr. Chapin, who was 
 still a resident of that city. 
 
 When I first knew Mr. Chapin lie held his inner self 
 aloof, and I saw little of him when out of his pulpit, except 
 his levity. But gradually, and at first almost shyly, he 
 opened the door to his deeper questionings and longings, 
 and at last talked freely of his spiritual contests and vic- 
 tories, of his purposes and aspirations. I have heard him in 
 public when most commanding and eloquent, when his moral 
 and spiritual greatness and insight seemed more than human ; 
 but I have been alone with him when he moved my wonder 
 and reverence immeasurably more. I recall one such occa- 
 sion when I had driven with him out from Boston in the 
 bitter cold, and heard him lecture to a small and, as I 
 thought, stolid audience. He evidently lacked inspiration, 
 and we went to our cheerless hotel quarters almost silent. 
 Our rooms adjoined, a door opening between them. In his 
 room was a nearly burned-out fire. We sat before it a few 
 minutes, when he took from his satchel a Testament and read 
 John's account of our Saviour's touching address to his dis- 
 ciples, beginning with " I am the true vine." His voice was 
 low and tremulous, and at last almost a whisper. Closing the 
 volume, and holding it in his hands, he knelt and prayed. 
 
168 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The prayer was not long, but it was so simple, so hurable, so 
 pathetic ; it so anxiously besought the Divine support and 
 guidance and sj^irit ; he brought his loved ones for help and 
 blessing Avith such tender solicitude ; he thanked Heaven 
 with such fervor and catholicity for the words and work of 
 all good men ; he left the race to tlie great providence of God 
 with such Cjuiet trust, and looked forward to the life beyond 
 with sucli childlike confidence and hope, that I said to my- 
 self then, and the thought has grown witli me ever since : 
 " What wonder that he so moves others when his whole brain 
 and heart and soul are so loyal, so chastened, so consecrated ! " 
 
 But this toucliing experience of Mr. Dennis was not 
 exceptional. Many have been thus surprised and im- 
 pressed by the scrupulous fidelity of Mr. Chapin to his 
 devotions, as well as by his simplicity and tenderness in 
 them. " Nothing could keep him i'rom his prayers," is 
 the testimony of his daughter. Thus at Pigeon Cove 
 he would call the merriest group to the evening worship 
 before retiring for the night ; and on Wednesday even- 
 ings, when there was a prayer-meeting at the little village 
 church, he would leave the happiest social circle and go 
 to mingle his devotions with the ten or twenty souls who 
 would assemble for song and prayer. It mattered not 
 that these were the humblest of disciples, and gathered 
 in the plainest of rooms, — he loved their spirit and was 
 helped by their sympathy, and was more than repaid by 
 Surrendering a festive hour for one of worship. The 
 Eev. Mr. Vibbert, at one time pastor of the Pigeon Cove 
 parish, says: "Dr. Chapin would come to our little con- 
 ference meeting and speak most eloquently to ten or 
 fifteen persons, and he \vould sometimes come when he 
 was so feeble that some member of the family would 
 follow him for fear he would fall by the way." 
 
PIGEON COVE. 169 
 
 On each returning summer he was accustomed to give 
 the parish a Sunday's service which became known as 
 Chapin's Sunday. On this day the people, rich and 
 poor, boarders and citizens, flocked to hear the eloquent 
 preaclier : and lie made an annual appeal, at the end of 
 his kindling service, for contributions to defray the cur- 
 rent expenses of the society, hoping to draw aid from 
 his wealthy hearers. His meeting was. often held in 
 some grove, or on some rocky bluff, to give the crowd, 
 which would be mostly shut out of the little church, a 
 chance to attend and engage in the worship. 
 
 "On one occasion, never to be forgotten," writes Miss 
 Duley, "I lieard him at Pigeon Cove when he preached an 
 out-of-door sermon to a vast multitude collected, one perfect 
 summer day, on the rocks. He seenjed to translate to his 
 rapt audience the very sound of the wind and Avaves. His 
 topic was the Love of God. ' What else,' said he, ' will sup- 
 port us when the great waves are washing to our lips and 
 eternity is pressing in upon us ! ' " 
 
 To preach by the sea was his delight, it so inspired 
 him by its fresh air and its mystery and power, and fur- 
 nished him such grand figures of speech. In his own 
 poem on " The Waters " he had sung its effect on him- 
 self:— 
 
 " It is the soul's interpreter, 
 
 That vast, in\'sterious sea, — 
 A scroll from whicli the spirit reads, 
 And knows eternity." 
 
 But aside "from the Chapin Sunday at the Cove, he 
 ordinarily occupied on the sacred day, by an appoint- 
 ment holding over from a previous year, a pulpit in 
 Boston or vicinity, to which the people would crowd to 
 enjoy an annual feast of eloquence. On the following 
 
170 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 morning, having made, it" possible, a hasty call at the 
 Universalist publishing office, and told a new story or 
 two to the assembled ministers, and visited a book-store 
 to make some purchases, he would take an early train 
 away from the dusty and stifled town and seek again the 
 grateful coolness and odor of the ocean. 
 
 Dr. Chapin was both loved and esteemed at Pigeon 
 Cove by its frank and trusty people, to whom he had 
 become a familiar presence ; and sad, indeed, were these 
 kindly hearts when it was apparent that he had come 
 there for the last time. This was in the summer of 
 1880. In the winter previous he had visited the place 
 to see his dear friend the Kev. Henry C. Leonard, who 
 was sick unto death. All tlie way from Xew York, 
 himself broken in health and haggard in look, he had 
 journeyed to meet his old comrade once more, and say 
 to him a cheerimr word, and take a final look at his 
 benignant face and a last grasp of his friendly hand. 
 Gladly the two friends met, but it was painfully evident 
 that both had wellnigh numbered their days on earth. 
 Having called at Charlestown on his way, to see the his- 
 torian Frothingham, who was sick and near unto death, 
 yet hoping for the return of health, he told Mr. Leon- 
 ard of this hopeful frame of mind, and said: "Well, 
 Henry, that is the way for sick people; if I was going 
 to die soon, I would not thank any one to tell me of it." 
 " Neither would I," said Henry. "And when Dr. Chapin 
 left, knowing my husband must soon die," writes Mrs. 
 Leonard, "it was a hand-shake and 'God bless you, 
 Henry,' and a parting no more to meet in tlie flesh." 
 
 Before returning to the place in the following Aug- 
 ust he had become a confirmed invalid, weak and 
 
PIGEON COVE. 171 
 
 almost helpless, with many signs of the coming change 
 written on face and form. Meanwhile, by advice of 
 his physician. Dr. James R Wood, he had tried in vain 
 the virtue of a trip to Europe, departing on the 22d of 
 May and returning on the 7th of August. Eesting a 
 little at his home in New York, he started for the last 
 time on the familiar trip to Pigeon Cove, not now eager 
 and hilarious as of old, but patient and silent. In sad- 
 ness his old friends saw his helplessness, and one and 
 another volunteered to roll him in his invalid chair 
 from place to place, as a sort of sacred service. So 
 many and eager were the hands waiting to take their 
 turn at the kindly act, that the man employed for 
 the task was hardly permitted to perform it. But 
 not alone by their own hearts were these friends 
 compensated for their kindness, for he was still both 
 wise and witty, and charmed them with his rare say- 
 ings, while his gratitude was manifest to all. ]\Iany 
 were the puns perpetrated from this rolling-chair, and 
 some of them are cherished as among his best, and 
 seem glorified as the happy utterances of a dying man. 
 These bright strokes of wit, amid the gathering cloud 
 of death, seem like the fabled notes of the dying swan, 
 into which she pours her most cheerful tones. 
 
 As characteristic of the man it is fitting that a 
 couple of these bright flashes amid the shadows should 
 be here perpetuated. As a friend was one day rolling 
 him, and discovered the wheel-marks of his carriage 
 made on a previous day, he remarked : " I see, Doctor, 
 you have already left your tracks here." " Yes," re- 
 sponded Chapin, " I was once a popular preacher, but 
 all I am good for now is to go about the streets leaving 
 
172 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 tracts (tracks.)" On one occasion some friends had 
 rolled liini to the residence of the Frothinghams, and 
 lifted him and his carriage up two or three steps on to 
 the veranda, that he might he one of the company there 
 gathered for a social hour. During his stay JMrs. Froth- 
 ingham rolled him about on the platform for their 
 mutual diversion, and also treated him to some lemon- 
 ade and cake. As he was about to leave he gratefully 
 returned his thanks, saying, " Mrs. Frothingham, you 
 have been very kind to me ; you have given me lem- 
 onade, some, cake, and a roll." 
 
 From the middle of July to the middle of September 
 was the ordmary period of Chapin's stay at Pigeon 
 Cove; and during this time he would read in his 
 hasty way many books and magazines, re-write an old 
 lyceum lecture which hard usage had worn out, or 
 write one on some new theme, think into form and 
 spirit a course of sermons for his pulpit during the 
 coming winter, and preoccupy his mind and heart 
 with texts of Scripture and topics for his more ordinary 
 discourses. And thus would he return to his people 
 with new sources of mental power, as well as a fresher 
 spirit and a more buoyant physical life. 
 
 " As music, when rapt voices die, 
 Vibrates in tlie memory," 
 
 SO lingered the inspirations of the sea in Chapin, and 
 for months they reappeared in the clearness and force 
 of his thoughts, the ardor of his sentiments, and the 
 sway of his eloquence. 
 
XT. 
 
 THE FUNEEAL. 
 
 It is a solemn hour when the gifted and powerful, 
 laid low by death, are borne by friendly hands to the al- 
 tar where the funeral rite is to be observed and the last 
 look taken at the honored face ; but the solemnity leaves 
 a deeper sadness when the distinguished departed has 
 lived his life out of his heart, and been a helper of souls 
 in the most sacred and tender ways. As the endear- 
 ment is thus greater, the sorrow will be the more in- 
 tense. Grief is born of love. The sad wail is a note 
 from the stricken heart. At the funeral of a mighty 
 statesman, if he has been only a maker or modifier of the 
 laws, there will be a dignified mourning, but sighs and 
 tears will not be conspicuous amid the 'Scene. But if 
 the statesman has been also a sweet and kind soul, 
 cheering the people in dark hours by his sympathy, 
 blessing them by a kindly wisdom, showing his love in 
 little wayside acts of humanity, like an Abraham Lin- 
 coln, then will there be around his bier the breaking 
 down of hearts, and sighs and tears will tell of the 
 great sorrow within. 
 
 Thus at the funeral of Dr. Chapin it was evident 
 that one specially dear to the people was mourned. 
 In every aspect of the scene it was made apparent that 
 
174 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN. 
 
 a man of heart and sacred ministries, in which many 
 had shared, had passed away, and that a grateful love 
 sought to pay him its feeling tribute. The drapuig of 
 his church for the solemn hour, the hushed throng 
 of people, women in tears and strong men bowing in 
 grief, rich but plaintive music, and tender words by 
 friendly and eloquent lips, told the story in a most 
 touching way of Chapin's hold upon the affections. 
 The scene was a testimony, not so much to the 
 brilliance of his gifts, as to the strength and 
 beauty of his character, his simple piety and broad 
 humanity, his bold stand for the just and true, and 
 his Good Samaritan readiness to pour oil on the 
 wounded heart. It was not his eloquence that held 
 sway in this sad hour, but the finer and nobler quali- 
 ties of his life. 
 
 The sombre drapery of the temple was everywhere 
 relieved, as was fitting, by some brighter color, indi- 
 cating that grief was blended with gratitude and hope. 
 The brilliant stained glass window behind the chancel 
 was shrouded in black cloth, but over this were trailing 
 festoons of smilax, with many white roses abloom on 
 the flowing green. At the centre of the window was a 
 large tablet of white flowers, and on this snowy disk 
 were wrought in violets the w^ords : " He is risen." A 
 large floral field, from which a golden sheaf had been 
 gathered, bore the device : " Our Shepherd." It was a trib- 
 ute from the pastorless flock. The empty pulpit wore a 
 black robe adorned with lilies and other fragrant white 
 flowers. Crosses, crowns, and wreaths were placed in 
 every possible situation ; and waving high m the air 
 were triumphant palms, telling of victory on earth and 
 
THE FUNERAL. 175 
 
 joy in heaven. The fronts of the galleries and the or- 
 gan were made expressive of this hopeful sorrow, by a 
 skilful blending of lights and shades ; and the ' large 
 clock, with its hands arrested at the points mdicating 
 the moment of his last breath, 11.47, near the midnight 
 hour, hung like a silent monitor wreathed with vines 
 and flowers. Esteem and love had done their best to 
 express in symbols their deep grief. 
 
 At an early hour the crowd began to gather into the 
 solemn temple, which the great preacher had glorified 
 and made a sacred shrme. As men and women took 
 their seats it was observed that many wept, and many 
 softly whispered their praises of the great and good 
 minister, and breathed theu" regrets that they should 
 never again hear his voice and feel the touch of his 
 mighty flaming spirit and cheering love. Eapidly and 
 silently the pews filled and the aisles were occupied, 
 save the reserved space ; and a crowd waited patiently 
 on the sidewalk, in the bitter December day, hoping for 
 admission, or desiring to see the coffin which contained 
 the cherished form. They must somehow do honor to 
 the dead preacher and friend of man. 
 
 As the funeral procession entered the church and 
 moved slowly up the aisle with its sacred dust, the vast 
 audience, rising to its feet, seemed overwhelmed with 
 grief, sobs were heard from all quarters, tears fell from 
 many eyes, hearts seemed breaking with their great sor- 
 row. Meanwhile, the organ was sighing the funeral 
 march by Mendelssohn. When the casket had been de- 
 posited in its place and the cortege was seated, the choir 
 sung the dirge, " Sleep thy last Sleep," in a hushed, 
 far-away tone, and the closing note was followed by a 
 
176 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAFIN. 
 
 moment of absolute silence, as if hearts were absent 
 with the departed. The impressive pause was broken 
 by the voice of President Capen of Tufts College, who 
 read from the Bible and led in a simple and fitting 
 prayer. " Oh, rest in the Lord," was sung, and the Rev. 
 Dr. Pullman, appointed to conduct the services, rose 
 and said : — 
 
 Dearly beloved brethren, — Under the sense of a heavy, 
 remediless, and, for us, unspeakable loss, we have sought to dis- 
 charge this service in some-manner which would comport with 
 the dignity and simplicity of the character of our departed 
 brother ; and we have therefore asked our friends, some of 
 those who knew him and loved him, to come here and speak 
 the words which for us, to-day, are impossible of utterance. 
 
 The speakers were Robert Collyer, Henry Ward 
 Beecher, and Rev. Dr. Armitage, all of whom had 
 come close to the heart of Chapin, and had some rem- 
 iniscence of his life to set before the people, to show 
 him in the light in which he had impressed them. So 
 far as space will permit, it is fitting that their testimo- 
 nies, in their own words, should appear on these pages. 
 Mr. Collyer said : — 
 
 I could not but feel, dear friends, when I opened my paper 
 the other day and read that line, " Dr. Chapin dead," that a 
 mist of sadness had fallen on the briglitness of our Christmas 
 time, all over this city and all over this land. Where joy 
 was, there would be a touch of deep and very painful sorrow 
 in tens of thousands of homes, because we all know together 
 how deeply and tenderly our dear brother dwelt in the heart 
 of this nation. He was not only your friend and mine, 
 he was not only a brother to the ministers who have gathered 
 here this morning about his dust, but I always used to feel 
 
THE FUNERAL. 177 
 
 that he had the widest and warmest friendship of almost any 
 man I ever knew or heard of. Long before I met him in my 
 residence, far away from this city and far from the scene 
 of his labors, in the wild western country, on the prairies 
 and h)ne places where a handful of men dwelt together, or in 
 some utterly lonesome places as I can remember as I am 
 speaking to you, where some one family dwelt, as it was my 
 lot now and then for many reasons to travel through that 
 country, the man of all men, of whom all men, as it seemed 
 to me, would speak most tenderly and lovingly, was Dr. 
 Chapin. 
 
 The wilderness and solitary places were glad for him ; the 
 desert rejoices and blossoms as the rose because he has lived 
 his life. Men would come here from far and wide to catch 
 some mighty word out of his heart, take it with them, and 
 it would become a mighty word in their hearts again. So 
 that Avord had a permanent value. Seldom can Ave pass for 
 good current coin, with the sealed mark on it and full weight, 
 through other churches and through our community. Some- 
 times, in proportion to the height to which a man attains in 
 his own denomination of Christian folks, may be tlie question- 
 mark that other denominations write against his name. I 
 have heard men of every name and denomination speak of 
 Dr. Chapin ; but I never to my recollection (and I have been 
 trying to find out if I might not be mistaken) heard a man 
 on this earth yet speak of him with a hut. It was always 
 with a loving and large loyalty, as of a man they could trust 
 utterly, a man they could love utterly. All over the land where 
 I have been travelling it has been the same ; among all the 
 people I have met it has been the same. 
 
 I wish I could allow myself the time to say the word 
 which is in my heart ; but I got up especially to say that it 
 has lain in my way to see him a good deal during the months 
 of his feebleness. We lived not far apart; and I think I was 
 
 12 
 
178 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 very selfish about it ; for whenever I wanted to get myself 
 into some sort of accord with divine faith, if I could hut 
 think the dear man would like to see me, I would try and 
 persuade myself that would be the way to do it, and I would 
 go and talk with him. I could not help him, but I wanted 
 him to help me. Saturday afternoons, when the Sabbath 
 drew on, I wanted to feel the touch of the divine spirit ; I 
 went to see him ; and it was so sweet, so lovely, to be with 
 him an hour and have him talk with me. He did not talk 
 much about those mighty matters that sometimes shake the 
 soul and sometimes lift it up into heaven. We sat down and 
 talked like two brothers of many things ; once and again he 
 would touch the old, grand days through which he had come ; 
 and 1 would try to tell him in some Avay of something he 
 liad done, something I remembered ; and it would touch him. 
 But he was too humble to make much of it ; he left all that 
 with God. But he was so bright, so cheerful. The joy of 
 the Lord was his strength. I used to think that was his 
 secret, and having struck this mighty truth to which he con- 
 secrated his life so utterly, — of the love, the eternal love, the 
 limitless love, the perfect love of Gk)d, — he might even have 
 made this the psalm of his life : " When the Lord turned 
 again the captivity of Zion, we were like them that dream. 
 Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with 
 singing." The love of God was the psalm of his life. Where 
 is the man who has sung that psalm more grandly, more ten- 
 derly, or with deeper and diviner purpose 1 It is the psalm 
 that came out of his heart which beats no longer for us on 
 the earth. 
 
 ]\Ir. Beecher came to the funeral of his long-tried and 
 genial friend, not as to a house of mourning, but to a 
 place where tlie notes of triumph and hope were to be 
 sounded. His thoughts were of a great victory won, a 
 
THE FUNERAL. 179 
 
 worthy victor crowned, and his voice refused to fall into 
 the minor key. With his keen zest of health, whose 
 laws he scrupulously observes, his sorrow had been to 
 meet Dr. Chapin in the later years as one whose body, 
 worn and wasted, was no more an adequate instrument 
 for his grand and fiery genius. He had compassion on 
 the ardent intellect and teeming heart which were set at 
 a sad diasdvantage by their alliance with a broken ma- 
 chine, which seemed to have got beyond the possibility 
 of repairs. He saw the time had arrived for his eman- 
 cipation, and that he was fitly called from bondage to 
 liberty. He said : — 
 
 I suppose that I have been asked to be present and take 
 part in these services because I knew Dr. Chapin and because 
 I loved him. I did know him; I did love him. We were 
 thrown together for a whole voyage, and we were thrown 
 together for short journeys many, many times, and we met 
 together in various Avays and divers places. And he was of 
 that nature that once having opened himself and mingled his 
 confidence with reciprocal confidence, there never could be 
 any pause or hesitation afterward. 
 
 I am not come here, my friends, to mourn, nor to help any 
 that mourn to mourn more. When the apostle declared at 
 the close of his life that he had fought a good fight, that he 
 had kept the faith, that the time of his departure was at 
 hand, that a crown was laid up for him, he did not intend 
 that to be a requiem, nor the key-note to sorrow. We do not 
 grieve when the young man steps out well equipped in life, 
 with prospects before him ; and yet that is the time for sor- 
 row, if any. When a man has fought life's battle all the way 
 through and victoriously come to the end, that is no time for 
 sorrow. Here has a great battle been fought, and a complete 
 victory has been won; and I am here to congratulate you, 
 
180 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 members of tliis Christian communion, and I am here also to 
 minister to those who are so near and so dear, as tliat their 
 very love, so twined with the charities of his love, will be 
 filled Avith the gladness that ought to attend the departure of 
 a soul so radiant as his was. I thank God that he has gone, 
 that the golden door has opened. On the other side of life no 
 sun shall go down again, and no winter shall come again to 
 him. He stands where God is the light, and where the heart 
 of God, through love, gives love and joy and every pleasant 
 thing. Shall I mourn over h.im1 I thank God for what he 
 was. Every man has the chart of what he is to be marked 
 out in him at birth. He was the son of an ancestry that 
 inherited the promises of God; and he received as his birth- 
 right the accumulated moral tendencies that belong to a New 
 England Puritan ancestry. It worked out in this, that moral 
 considerations lay at the base of every consideration through- 
 out his life. I thank God that be gave to him that moral 
 courage that has enabled him on some great questions to take 
 the right side, and, having taken it, to fight, not with bloody 
 weapons, nor with bitterness, nor with wrath, nor with ascetic 
 conscience, but with love. It was tliat spirit of sympathy 
 with mankind that allied him to the great Redeemer and to 
 the fundamental conception of the High Priest, — one that 
 could have compassion on the ignorant, and on those that 
 are out of the way. His great heart went out to those that 
 needed him. 
 
 There are two styles of instructors, both honorable ; one of 
 whom makes conscience the standpoint, and finally brings in 
 love as an argument and accompaniment of the result. The 
 other takes love for the standpoint, and brings in conscience 
 as a discriminating element, a measuring and dividing influ- 
 ence. This is seldom absolutely pure. Men that have the 
 element of benevolence also are more or less equipped with 
 conscience. Men of a stern conscience have, though you 
 
THE FUNERAL. 181 
 
 cannot find it always, a centre of sympathy and love. But 
 Dr. Chapin belonged to that number whose soul was filled 
 with love. The irrepressible personality of his disposition 
 carried him in those ways that should give the largest sweep 
 and scope to love ; and all his deeds in life were inevitably 
 influenced by that central element in his temperament, a 
 spirit of sympathy with the nnfortunate ; and it made his 
 life and that of tliose around about him blessed. 
 
 His mind travelled very widely, — not as an explorer, but as 
 one travels round and round the globe to bring home some- 
 thing of the scientific treasures that belong to the air and to 
 the sea and to every land. He kept himself in the front line 
 of what was thought and what was found out by every prin- 
 cipal man in his day and generation. Neither in his mind 
 was it a heterogeneous mass, inchoate and undigested. He 
 had a singular power of melting into his personality what- 
 ever he gathered from other persons ; when it came to him 
 afterwards it was his. I am not an ox because I eat ox ; I 
 turn it into myself, and make it work as I want it to work. 
 He was not all other men because he took from them ; he 
 took it into his own economy and his own disposition, and it 
 was his. He had the power, too, of making the greatest use 
 of things that in themselves were sometimes coarse, and cer- 
 tainly homely and of little account. As in the kaleidoscope 
 you may take a bit of glass, a button, a hundred little things 
 of no worth when alone, but once shut up in that darkened 
 glass they fall into forms of beauty, into every figure conceiv- 
 able. So it Avas in the power of Dr. Chapin's mind to throw 
 abroad his net and bring in everything, and when he came to 
 use his acquisitions, how symmetrical and kaleidoscopic they 
 finally became ! 
 
 "With all these gifts in him, he never sought himself; he 
 was not a self-praiser ; he did not walk about in an atmos- 
 phere of self-consciousness. He had the sense of humility 
 
182 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 that apparently, as it were, drew him inward to a deeper 
 consciousness. 
 
 It is a great thing to liave been permitted to live as he 
 lived, and what he did nobody knows now. He was a seed 
 sower. Don't look for him in his coffin ; I know he is not 
 here ; he has risen. Don't look for him in his church. But 
 look where you please, only God knows how great was his 
 wealth of influences, how diverse, widespread, and differing 
 in their elements. He has made himself a part of his day 
 and generation, — a monument, if there could be a monument. 
 As there can be no monument to the sea, so can there be no 
 monument to a man who has diffused his spirit throughout 
 the whole breadth of the ocean of humanity. It is a great 
 thing to have lived a healthy life, continually having that life 
 consecrated to the best end of human life, — a life of conscious 
 daily communion with God, a life of love, a life of trust. 
 Such was his life. JSTow the best part of it has begun. The 
 infirmities that clouded his later days are over forever. It 
 was as if a bath of pain were needful to appear before the 
 King. God gave him what discipline He knew to be needful 
 for him, and at last He has taken him ; and I am here to say 
 to him, " Hail ! and farewell ! " — for a little time, for a little 
 time. He walks in glory, and we go darkly on yet a few 
 days. 
 
 Between Dr. Chapin and Dr. Armitage, of the Fifth 
 Avenue Baptist Church, there had ripened through 
 thirty years of pleasant intercourse the full bloom of 
 friendship, and it was fitting that the voice of the latter 
 should be heard in this solemn hour when love and 
 memory and hope were alike busy. Speaking in high 
 terms of his friend's piety, his loyalty to Christ and 
 his love of man, he dwelt mainly on a personal inter- 
 view with him near the end of his days, when the 
 
THE FUNERAL. 183 
 
 sands of life had wellnigh run out of the mystic glass. 
 He said : — 
 
 Two weeks ago to-day, just before the setting of the sun, I 
 went from the side of a loved friend, whom I had buried, to 
 the bedside of Dr. Chapin, not supposing that a couple of 
 bnef weeks would bring us to the parting and him to the 
 dust. It is my custom in entering a sick-chamber, especially 
 the sick-room of a friend, to enter very cheerfully, trying to 
 carry a beam of sunshine if I think it is possible, and utter a 
 word of cheer. How beautifully he greeted that visit. I 
 found him in his study, lying upon a sofa. The moment I 
 entered his room, and Mrs. Chapin announced the name, he 
 tried to rise ; and, rising perhaps half-way, he said, " I am 
 delighted to see you ; come in, thou blessed of the Lord." 
 
 I saw that his mind was clear, but in half an hour's con- 
 versation there were now and then slight lapses of memory. 
 All the other faculties of heart and soul seemed to be active. 
 We entered into a very cheerful conversation about you, dear 
 brethren, as a church, about your future — much more about 
 you than himself. I said to him in a semi-playful way : 
 " Now, Dr. Chapin, you know that ministers' wives always 
 say that they have no pastor, and I am sure that we pastors 
 have none. Will you allow me to-day^ as your old-time 
 friend, to be your pastor?" 
 
 He smiled, put out his hand, and said, " Welcome, pastor, 
 welcome." 
 
 " Now," I said, " in doing pastoral duty, Doctor, let me 
 call your attention to the beautiful words of our common 
 Master, who said to his disciples : ' Go preach, and Lo ! I am 
 with you all days, even to the end of the world ' " — quoting 
 the passage from the version of 1 380. " Now, " I said, 
 " Doctor, what a wonderful opening of the Redeemer's mind 
 this promise grants, you : Lo ! I am with you all days ! In 
 days of prosperity when in the pulpit, in days of adversity 
 
184 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPEST. 
 
 when in the sick-room, in days of sunshine, in days of dark- 
 ness, in days of full power, and in days of full weakness." 
 
 He said, " How precious that is I " 
 
 I said : "Doctor, do you realize now the sweetness of the 
 promise of Christ in your broken condition ] " 
 
 He looked at me with the simplicity of a babe ; but I saw 
 a tear moisten his eye and a little tremulousness mingled with 
 his voice, as he said : " My dear brother, what should I do 
 without Christ 1 Christ is everything to me now." So he 
 spoke of the loving Eedeemer. 
 
 I said ; "Well then, may I have this consolation. Doctor, 
 of knowing that you, who have been in the ministry so long, 
 labored so hard, done so much to lift up other minds and 
 pour consolation into disconsolate hearts, — that you to-day 
 realize the same breadth and fullness and sweetness of con- 
 solation in Christ that you have ministered to others'?" 
 
 He simply made this answer : " Doctor, Christ to me is 
 all in all." 
 
 I asked him if it would be pleasant to have a word of 
 prayer. He made an effort to rise, as if he greeted the prop- 
 osition with great joy. I said : " No, Doctor, you can't rise ; 
 do nothing ; lie quietly, and I will kneel at your side with 
 my hand in yours ; let us give each other to God our Father 
 to-day." 
 
 He said, " Well, we will," I bent at his side, and with 
 such simplicity and brotherly love and confidence in God as 
 I could summon, sought the blessing of heaven upon him. 
 He joined in the prayer ; he buried his brow in one hand, 
 and held my hand with the other. He seemed to glow with 
 love. I asked the Lord to give him strength, and if possible 
 to spare him to the Church, and presented those wishes at the 
 Throne of Grace which any of your hearts would prompt un- 
 der similar circumstances. At the close of a brief prayer, as 
 I said " Lord, Lord, grant these things to thy servant for 
 
THE FUNERAL. 185 
 
 Jes*us Christ's sake," holding my hand with a firm grip, and 
 lifting up his eyes toward heaven, iu the same ringing, fer- 
 vent, strong voice that you have heard so often from his lips, 
 his whole nature said, " Amen ! " 
 
 Eeferring to what had been said of Chapin's love of 
 Christ, Dr. Pullman, m a brief closing address, added 
 these fitting words : — 
 
 "Whoever has spent a day in his house, Avhoever has 
 joined him in the simple morning service, in which he 
 acknowledged God and the mercies of the day, had there an 
 insight into the simplicity of that heart, which was as a little 
 child's in the midst of all the gifts and graces with which he 
 was endowed. Know his Saviour 1 Love his Lord Christ? 
 "Why, men and brethren, it was that that set him in this pul- 
 pit, and that kept him there, and that made the late dark 
 days of life all open and bright before him. 
 
 But the best tribute paid to Dr. Chapin was the as- 
 sembly itself which gathered around him. It was a 
 notable body of people, attesting the order of his merits, 
 the scope of his influence, the range of his friendships. 
 Every one had plucked some flower or fruit from his 
 tree of life, and came to cast an evergreen in his coffin. 
 Here were those graced with the richest scholarship of 
 the time, and those for whom the schools had done little. 
 Here the rich and the poor met in a common sorrow. 
 Genius came to confess its loss, and the weak in faith to 
 lament that the strong staff on which they leaned had 
 been broken. Those he had morally braced to meet the 
 temptations of life, and such as felt themselves to be 
 spiritually his children, were present to do him honor. 
 Here met the white heads and tottering forms from the 
 Chapin Home, and the fresh and sportive children and 
 
186 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 youth from the Sunday School; and from all sects 'of 
 Christians, the devout ones came to confess him a 
 brother in Christ, and to rejoice that a crown had been 
 given him in heaven. 
 
 Some months after the service Mr. Beecher said to 
 the writer of these pages : " The audience at Chapin's 
 funeral was remarkable. It came the nearest bemg a 
 representation of the Church Universal I ever saw, or 
 am likely to see in the flesh. Chapin made no sores. 
 His thoughts were sweet and noble, and everybody be- 
 lieved in him. Not another minister in New York 
 could draw such a diversity of people to his burial." 
 The city papers noted and commented on this aspect of 
 the congregation, and one of them printed the following 
 classified but partial list of clergymen in attendance : — 
 
 Rev. Dr. James M. Pullman, of the Church of Our Sav- 
 iour ; Rev. Dr. E. H. Capen, President of Tufts College ; 
 Rev. S. A. Gardiner, of the Third Church, and Rev. Almon 
 Gunnison, of All Souls' Church, Brooklyn, — all promi- 
 nent Universalist ministers ; Rev. Dr. N. F. Morgan, of St. 
 Thomas's Church ; Rev. Dr. John Cotton Smith, of the Church 
 of the Ascension ; Rev. Dr. Morgan Dix, of Trinity Church ; 
 Rev. Dr. R. S. Rowland, of the Church of the Heavenly Rest ; 
 Rev. Dr. Stephen H. Tyng, Jr., of the Church of the Holy 
 Trinity ; Rev. C. C. Tiffany, of Zion Church, Madison Avenue ; 
 Rev. Dr. F. C. Ewer, of the Church of St. Ignatius ; and Rev. 
 Edmund Guilbert, of the Church of the Holy Spirit, — all rep- 
 resentatives of the Protestant Episcopal pulpit ; Rev. Henry 
 Ward Beecher, of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn ; Rev. Dr. 
 William M. Taylor, of the Broadway Tabernacle ; Rev. Dr. 
 John Hall, of the Fifth Avenue Church ; Rev. Llewellyn D. 
 Be van, of the Brick Church ; Rev. C. S. Robinson, of the 
 Memorial Church ; Rev. Thomas S. Hastings, of the West 
 
THE FUNERAL. 187 
 
 Church, Eev. S. D. Burchard, of the Murray Hill Church ; 
 Rev. M. R. Vincent, of the Church of the Covenant ; and Eev. 
 James D. Wilson, of the United Church, — all Presbyterians ; 
 Rev. Dr. Thomas Armitage, of the Fifth Avenue Church, and 
 Rev. R. S. MacArthur, of Calvary Church, — Baptists ; Rev. 
 Dr. William Ormiston, of the Collegiate Church at Fifth 
 Avenue and Twenty-ninth Street, and Rev. E. B. Coe, of the 
 Collegiate Church at Forty-eighth Street, — both Reformed 
 Dutch ; Rev. Dr. J. P. Newman, of tlae Central Methodist 
 Church ; Rev. Robert Collyer, of the Church of the Messiah, 
 and Rev. Dr. Henry W. Bellows, of All Souls' Church, — 
 Unitarians; Rev. Father Hecker, Roman Catholic; and Rev. 
 Dr. Gottheil, of the Temple Eraanu El, Jewish. 
 
 One can but wish that from some eminence the spirit 
 of the great preacher and broad-church disciple may 
 have looked down on this scene, which was so much 
 like a consummation of his early dream and the ideal of 
 his whole life. On some higher ground, common to 
 all the sects, he desired to have Christians meet and 
 fellowship each other ; and that his own coffin should be 
 beyond precedent the visible centre of such an assem- 
 blage, must have seemed to him, had he witnessed it, 
 like a benediction on the idea he had so long cherished 
 and so earnestly advocated. It must have been a joy 
 to him to have known that he himself had preached 
 the gospel they all accepted, and lived so much 
 in its spirit that they came up from the churches of 
 every name to confess him a brother in Christ, and 
 to crown his memory with a common wreath of esteem 
 and praise. It was, indeed, a fit tribute to the breadth 
 of his religion and the scope of his humanity. He 
 loved them all, and they in return loved him, and 
 it was a scene on which heaven could smile, as these 
 
188 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 brethren, forgetting tlieir sectarian names, came in the 
 broader name of the Eedeemer to do honor to one who 
 had been his humble but devoted disciple. 
 
 When the mipressive service had ended, and the 
 throng of people had silently and thoughtfully moved 
 away, the funeral procession took up its solemn march 
 to Greenwood Cemetery, where the honored dust was 
 laid to its final rest. But the vision of that form thus 
 laid low still remains, the echo of that voice now 
 hushed in the grave is heard all over the land, and the 
 generous beat of that ardent heart, now so quiet, is yet 
 felt by a grateful multitude. 
 
XIL 
 
 THE TEIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 
 
 For immediate mastery over man there are two 
 rivals, IMusic and Eloquence ; but to which belongs the 
 crown of ascendancy it may not be easy to decide. It 
 may be held by some that Art and Letters should be 
 counted among rivals for instant impressiveness ; and 
 it is to be granted that Picture, Statue, and Book bear 
 a marked sway at the moment of their contact with 
 the soul. "The room in the Dresden Gallery where 
 stands the Sistine Madonna alone," says a thoughtful 
 traveller, " is always filled with visitors, men and 
 women, from all parts of the world. They sit en- 
 chanted before the celestial vision of purity, sweetness, 
 patience, tenderness. . . . The silence is scarcely dis- 
 turbed by a whisper, never by a loud voice. The 
 people enter and depart as if the place were a temple. 
 Many sit there by the hour, and more than once I saw 
 tears start from the gazing eyes, and roll down worn 
 faces unchecked." Wide and deep and powerful is 
 the instant sway of the great paintings, and especially 
 over those whose sensibilities are prepared to receive 
 their influence ; and to the chiselled marble, given the 
 form and only lacking the life of greatness and grace, 
 belongs a vivid impressiveness; while many are the 
 
190 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 books before which their readers are spellbound and 
 borne into rare hours of exaltation and renewal 
 When Montaigne called books a " languid pleasure," 
 he must have had in mind, not the volumes through 
 which genius pours its fine and fiery tides on us, but 
 the more common order of literature. On the contrary, 
 a book may raise a tumult in our minds, set our hearts 
 into a more rapid and hardy beat, and drive sleep 
 from our eyes through all the watches of the long 
 night. 
 
 But while we may grant to Art and Letters the credit 
 of a direct influence which is indeed great, still must 
 we accord to Music and Oratory a higher rank as agents 
 that work instant stirring effects in the mind and heart 
 of man ; and their advantage lies in this, that while 
 the artist is absent from his art and the author from 
 his book, the musician and orator, coming with the 
 same messages borne by Picture and Sculpture and 
 printed page, are on hand in their own inspired person- 
 alities to enforce their arguments and appeals. They 
 give themselves with their gifts. Thus Music and 
 Eloquence are called by Plato the " living arts ;" and as 
 they come glowing from the heat of the spirit, they 
 kindle and inflame as no other arts can. Apart from 
 life they are nothing, but when this mystic force, in 
 the degree in which it abounds in genius, is added to 
 great ideas and sentiments, we havo the very climax 
 of human power over man. 
 
 But to which of these two rivals for direct impres- 
 sion and sway we should assign the first rank, may be 
 as difficult a question to settle as that on which the 
 owl is said to be ever musing by day, — namely, whethei 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 191 
 
 the egg or the owl came first in the order of the crea- 
 tion. On one ground, at least, the claim of eloquence 
 seems to entitle it to precedence as a potency : while it 
 may be as impassioned as music, it addresses more of 
 the group of gifts which make up the greatness of 
 human nature and constitute the basis of feeling and 
 action. It touches more of the strmgs in the living 
 harp, and draws a deeper and more various music. It 
 reaches with its mighty hand the rarer keys in the 
 organ of life, and awakens the stronger chords and the 
 more passionate notes. It is the chief mission of music 
 to stir and enchant the esthetic sensil)ilities, whose 
 main end is their own gi'atifi cation. It is mostly a 
 pleasure-giving art, and as such it may surpass oratory. 
 Eut it is the office of the latter, while not leaving the 
 finer emotions untouched, to command the leason with 
 a logic wholly outside the sphere of music, to arouse 
 the conscience by appeals to which music can give no 
 clear and strong voice, and to awaken, by more explicit 
 teachings, the sentiments of reverence and humanity. It 
 is a broader and stronger art. As it engages more of 
 the powers of genius in its creation and deliverance, so 
 it pours along as a fuller and more diverse tide or tor- 
 rent of inspiration and j)0wer. 
 
 Hence the triumphs of oratory make a conspicuous 
 chapter in the annals of man ; and among those 
 triumphs there are none, perhaps, more marked m our 
 day than those attained by Dr. Chapin. In him the 
 secret of eloquence, caught by so few of the sons of 
 men, was held as a scarcely diminished inheritance 
 from the greatest masters of speech ; and it is no dis- 
 credit to the very elect of oratory to add his name to 
 
192 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the short roll. As we would place a Tennyson or Long- 
 fellow in the small group of great poets, so would we 
 rank a Chapin with the limited Land of famous speak- 
 ers, by whom audiences have been hushed into a rapt 
 silence or roused to a tumult of enthusiasm. 
 
 His eloquence took a wider range and reached a more 
 general audience than that of most of the great orators, 
 while its effect seemed not to be abridged by its breadth ; 
 and since he spake thus on universal themes in terms 
 conniion to the simple and the wise, his praises have 
 been spoken in all quarters and by every class. Many 
 a child has confessed to the sway of his words. 
 
 Eev. 0. F. Safford writes : — 
 
 I was foiu'teen years old when I first saw and heard Cha- 
 pin, and I distinctly recall my sensations under his oratory. 
 As soon as lie began to speak I Avas hfted into a trance. I 
 had tlie sense of music, and of all beautiful things. Never 
 before had I felt such a transforming power in human si^eech. 
 Something like twenty-eight years have passed away since 
 then, — so I am astonished to find, — yet I can now recall 
 that address in all its points, my memory of it remains so 
 distinct. It was spoken with the accompaniment of the rag- 
 ing storm ,• the flashes of the lightning through the AvindoAvs 
 seemed harmonious Avith the continual blaze of his spirit, and 
 the reverberating thunder seemed the proper echo to his 
 intensely emphatic Avords. It Avas Avondrous music Avith a 
 Avondrous accompaniment. In closing he painted a AA'ord- 
 picture of a sunrise in the Alps, as a symbol of the spread 
 of light and virtue among the people, — a piece of fervid elo- 
 quence absolutely overAvhelming in its dramatic vividness 
 and moral grandeur. When he had closed and taken his 
 seat, for some moments, even minutes they must have been, 
 the audience remained transfixed, breathless, spellbound. 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 193 
 
 INTo one could move or speak. Every one in the hall had 
 been seemingly magnetized by the orator. At last the chair- 
 man rose and crossed the platform to where Chapin sat. This 
 broke the spell. Some one now began to applautl ; s(ion the 
 applause became general, and increased almost to wildiicss. 
 As I went home that night I was scarcely conscious of walk- 
 ing on the earth. 
 
 This boy's rapture was much like that of young 
 Hazlitt, who walked ten miles to hear Coleridge preach, 
 and who returned to his home to make this record in 
 his diary of the poet's oratory : "His words seemed like 
 sounds from the bottom of the human heart, and I could 
 not have been more delighted if I had heard the music 
 of the spheres." ♦ 
 
 Another witness to the impression made by Chapin's 
 eloquence on childhood is found in the following pleas- 
 ant reminiscence from the pen of Eev. J. Smith Dodge. 
 It was given in the presence of Dr. Chapin, at the twen- 
 ty-fifth anniversary of his settlement in New York: — 
 
 I don't know how many years ago it was — I was a little 
 boy then, and it must have been pretty soon after the Society 
 Avent into the Murray Street Church, — that one Sunday even- 
 ing my father proposed to me to go down with him and hear 
 Mr. Chapin preach : — 
 
 " N'o, I thank yon," said I. 
 
 " Well, why not 1 " asked he. 
 
 " Why 1 Because it's no use my going to clmrcli in the 
 evening ; I always go to sleep." 
 
 "Well, but you won't go to sleep here," said my father. 
 
 " Oh yes I shall ; I have tried not to do it a great many 
 times in different churches ; but it is no use my going, I shall 
 surely go to sleep." 
 
 13 
 
194 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 " Now," said my father, " if you will go with ]ue and hear 
 him preach, and you get to sleep while he is preaching, I 
 will give you half a dollar," 
 
 Well, that was an inducement which surpassed anything 
 as yet proposed to me that afternoon, and I now consented to 
 go down to Murray Street. We lived in Bond Street. There 
 were no horsecars, and the omnibuses did not run on Sun- 
 day. I remember it was in the cold season of the year, and 
 we had a pretty brisk walk. Of course I did not expect to 
 go to sleep immediately after taking my seat, and I listened 
 through the opening service, and heard the music and what 
 else there was, until the preacher stood up to preach. And 
 now for my half dollar ! You must understand that I am a 
 good sleeper ; I have slept on steamboats, close to the machin- 
 ery. I have slept, in the aggregate, thousands of miles- in 
 railroad cars. I have slept at the Cataract House with the 
 window open and Niagara just outside. But I did not sleep 
 there. Chapiu was too much for me ; and if you will believe 
 me, through the whole course of the long sermon, that re- 
 morseless man kept my eyes wdde open and my mind on the 
 strain. 
 
 Alike did he impress and arouse the rude fisherman, 
 the rough miner, and the subtle philosopher, as we 
 may learn from the testimony of his early parishioner 
 and eminent friend, Starr King. It was a story King 
 liked to tell, how a Pigeon Cove mackerel-catcher com- 
 plimented the eloquent preacher on the mastery of his 
 speech. As he was rowing the two famous ministers 
 in his dory on an August day to the fishing-grounds, 
 Mr. King asked him if he ever went to church. " No," 
 said he, " I never goes to meetin', but I am goin' to hear 
 Old Chapin who comes round here every summer, for 
 my clmmmies say he 's a buster." This humble but not 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 195 
 
 insignificant praise was enjoyed by King in an uproar 
 of laughter, and by Cliapin in an unsuccessful attempt 
 at silence. But some years later the former wrote 
 from California, after a trip through the gold-diggings, 
 " In the mining regions, among the foot-hills of the 
 Sierras, in huts amid the rocky grandeur of the Yo- 
 semite, I have heard men speak in gratitude of sermons 
 heard, years ago in New York, from Dr. Chapin." 
 
 But while giving thus the testimony of the rude and 
 humble to the effective eloquence of his friend, in yet 
 more emphatic terms does King speak of the sway of 
 that eloquence over his own soul. He says : — 
 
 I have been moved by Dr. Chapin in recent years, as 
 many thousands have been, in the midst of great assembhes, 
 when the cloven tongue of fire sat upon his soul, and the 
 divine afflatus moved through his nature, as a gust through 
 au organ. All that his conscious thought did was to touch 
 the keys. The volume and swell and sweep of the music 
 were of tlie Holy Ghost, flowing now in a wild surge through 
 his passionate imagination, and waking the noblest chords of 
 the religious nature of his hearers to devout joy, — now in a 
 simple passage of melody from the heart, plaintive and tender, 
 that persuaded tears from the sternest eye. He seemed to 
 me, then, to be not a single nature, but the substance of a 
 hundred souls compacted in one, to be used as an inspiring 
 instrument in the service of the loftiest truths. 
 
 In a jubilant strain of compliment at a May Festival 
 of Universalists in Faneuil Hall, Starr King responded 
 to a sentiment in honor of absent friends, thus allud- 
 ing to the great orator : — , 
 
 Wliat can be said fitly, by any single speaker, when we 
 come to another name that is in all your minds'? What can 
 
196 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 be said that is adequate of E. H. Chapin, — God bless him ! 
 Call upon the band to respond with all its instruments, if 
 you would do proper honor to him, and to the feeling of this 
 assembly for him. Nay, sir, some great organ should be 
 wakened in answer to his name. Let the master draw the 
 diapason, and open the pedal of the great leviathan of music, 
 and he cannot let loose such a thrilling surge of passion as 
 has swept this hall when Chapin has poured from his breast 
 stormy denunciations of injustice, and fervid prophecies of 
 future good ; and then let him draw the sweetest flute-stop, 
 and he cannot pour out melody so pleading and pathetic as 
 the Holy Spirit breathes through the tender, sunny, and 
 melting tones in whicli Chapin portrays and illustrates the 
 infinite love. 
 
 If it "was a sign of military genius in Napoleon that 
 he quelled the French mob with cannon balls, it must 
 surely be a mark of oratorical power in Chapin that he 
 subdued with words a riotous demonstration in New 
 York. The scene may be best painted in the words of 
 Eev. Dr. Bellows, who was a witness of it. 
 
 I recall an incident which happened in the very first years 
 of his ministry in this city, and nearly thirty years ago, when 
 at a public dinner, where a military company were either guests 
 or escort or both, an uproar arose under the influence of wine, 
 which threatened the whole occasion with disgrace. Tlie 
 presiding officer and several of the public men present tried 
 in vain to still the tumult and bring tlie disorderly military, 
 already coming to blows, to their senses. The disorder in- 
 creased and seemed uncontrollable, when suddenly Dr. 
 Chapin rose, and in tones of thunder, and with now a com- 
 manding and now a pleading authority and deference of 
 manner, and a swelling eloquence, half humorous, half stern 
 rebuke, addressed the boisterous rioters. In a short time, he 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 197 
 
 actually outstormed their fuiy, amused, abashed, aud out- 
 witted their temper, interested and moved them to forget 
 their quarrel, and did not sit down until he had coaxed and 
 cowed and subdued the rioters by a tremendous disj)lay of 
 personal energy and consummate tact and an overwhelming 
 flood of eloquence and persuasion. It was the greatest 
 triumph of off-hand speech, used in the most effective way, 
 at the most useful and critically perilous moment, that I have 
 ever witnessed. It saved the occasion, and spared the com- 
 pany, what was becoming every moment more probable, the 
 necessity of breaking up and leaving the place, at the very 
 commencement of the intellectual part of the festival, in the 
 hands of a mob of half-tipsy and thoroughly self-abandoned 
 and quarrelsome persons. 
 
 In 1850 Mr. Cliapiu made his first trip to Europe as 
 the travelling companion of B. B. IMussey, Esq., of 
 Boston, by whose generous p)urse his expenses were 
 defrayed. In the sailing-vessel, the " New World," the 
 voyage was made in twenty-one days, and before Mr. 
 Chapin saw again his native land, although the journey 
 was a brief one, he had made some oratorical triumphs 
 which are still graphic memories with those who heard 
 them, and which survive in both English and American 
 records. 
 
 As fellow voyagers on this vessel the Eev. Henry 
 "Ward Beecher and Chapin met for the first time, and 
 begun a friendship which, growing with the years, proved 
 the source of much mutual delight and benefit. The 
 two men were wont to meet ever after only to have 
 their wit kindle and flash, and a current of more serious 
 thought set pouring through their minds. The eminent 
 orators fell sick on the ocean, but finally rallied as the 
 
198 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 vessel passed into an unusual calm, in which there was 
 little movement ahead, but a regular lifting up and let- 
 ting down of the craft on the recurrent waves. After 
 some days of this wearisome delay the two men met on 
 the deck in the early morning, and Mr. Beecher's salu- 
 tation was : " Well, Chapin, we are still steadfast and 
 unmovable." " Yes," was the reply, "but we are always 
 a-bounding." 
 
 But these knights of the golden tongue could not be 
 let off without some speech-making to their fellow- 
 passengers. The commander of the vessel, Captain 
 Knight, was a good man, a friend of the temperance 
 reform, something of an orator, and a great lover of 
 eloquence, and he called for two addresses on temper- 
 ance. " Chapin was well over his seasickness, and made 
 a rouser," says Mr. Beecher; "but I spoke sickishly, and 
 the Captain told me if I could not speak better than that 
 on shore, he would never come to hear me preach." 
 
 It was, however, before the Peace Congress at Frank- 
 fort-on-the-Main, to which Mr. Mussey was a delegate, 
 that Chapin made one of the most thrilling speeches of 
 his life. The theme was to him a familiar and favorite 
 one ; the occasion was one of world-wide significance ; 
 the importunity of the American delegates that he 
 should speak hatl been urgent, and he came to the plat- 
 form with all his ra're gifts at their best. 
 
 Eev. J. W. Hanson, D. D., writes, nearly twenty years 
 after the event : — 
 
 The scene passes before my mind's eye as though it 
 occurred yesterday. I had repeatedly solicited him to speak 
 as the exponent of the Liberal Church in America, repre- 
 sented in the Congress by Rev. J. T. Sargent of Boston, 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 199 
 
 Eev. Dr. Hall of Providence, Eev. W. C. George, B. B. Mus- 
 sey, myself, and possibly others, but he had declined. I 
 personally soliciteel Elihu Burritt, the Learned Blacksmith, 
 himself worthy of being named among the orators of the 
 age, to invite him, but M'as assured that the rule had been 
 adopted to announce no speaker who had not previously con- 
 sented to respond, and that Mr. Chapin had declined his 
 urgent invitation to address the Convention. Disappointed, 
 we concluded that our church must go unrepresented, for 
 who would venture to speak on such an occasion, when he 
 who should be heard was silent 1 
 
 Cobden, Liebig, Coquerel, Girardin, George Dawson, and 
 other less distinguished men had spoken eloquently. When 
 the German Baron presiding announced Herr Shahpeen, the 
 unfamiliar sound excited no interest in me till I saw the well- 
 recognized figure moving toward the tribune. 
 
 Let the reader imagine a circular room surmovmted by a 
 dome, containing three thousand people of different nation- 
 alities, — perhaps three hundred English, as many French, 
 thirty Americans, and, with the exception of a few of other 
 countries, the rest German. There was no especial expect- 
 ancy on the part of the multitude, for perhaps not more than 
 ten in the vast throng had ever heard him speak. Cobden, 
 in a vice-president's chair, was writing indifferently. The 
 orator mounted the rostrum, we fancied, with a little embar- 
 rassment. His first sentence rung like a clarion on the 
 delighted ears of the multitude. Before it was finished Cob- 
 den raised his pen and turned his head to listen, and, drop- 
 ping his pen, lifted his hand into the position for rendering 
 applause; and with the end of the sentence he gave the signal, 
 which was responded to by the English present, as only the 
 English people can respond, and was taken up by the Amer- 
 icans and prolonged by the rest, most of whom could not 
 understand a word spoken, but who knew from the tones of 
 
200 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the voice, the action of the speaker, and that indefinable 
 magnetism that goes to the soul, that the impassioned orator 
 was before them. Indeed, one little Frenchman was perfectly- 
 wild with gesticulation ; hands, feet, shoulders, body, were 
 all in motion as though he were hung on wires. Elihu Bur- 
 ritt, addressing him in French, inquired if he understood the 
 speaker. " Oui, oui," was the answer, smiting his heart with 
 vehement emphasis, where, no doubt, the orator found a re- 
 sponse, though his hearers understood not a word of English. 
 
 I kept my eyes on Cobden, who held one hand upraised 
 during each sentence, and brought it upon the other at the 
 pause, when the enthused throng, taking its cue from him, 
 went into paroxysms of enthusiasm. Women waved their 
 kerchiefs, men swung their hats. The noise of hands 
 and feet and cheers filled the air at the end of nearly every 
 sentence. We never saw such enthusiasm. All the rest of 
 the speakers produced nothing like it. . . . The language 
 and sentiments were worthy of the great occasion, I had 
 previously heard the speaker in the pulpit and on the plat- 
 form, and recognized, passage after passage, the gems of sev- 
 eral grand sermons and lectures ; but they belonged to the 
 subject and occasion as thoroughly as though then and there 
 conceived, and all were woven together in one splendid tissue, 
 as if the inspiration of the moment had created the sublime 
 thought, the magnificent diction, the divine utterance. I 
 never listened to an eff'ort apparently more extemporaneous, 
 nor one more finished and perfect ; nor did I ever see an 
 audience hang so spellbound on the lips of man. For forty 
 minutes, that seemed scarcely five, the sublimest sentiments, 
 embodied in words of golden fire, poured into all souls and 
 inspired all — as we venture to say none of them were before 
 or have been since wrought upon. For myself, I sat breath- 
 less, delighted, proud of our cause and the man who could 
 thus represent it. 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE, 201 
 
 In this Peace Congress, held in the Parliament House 
 of Germany, was an American Indian whose wild heart 
 had been tamed by the spirit of Christianity, and who 
 went as a delegate from his tribe, the Ojibways, to bear 
 their Pipe of Peace to the assembled sons of the gentle 
 liedeemer. His Indian name was Kah-ge-ga-gah-bowh, 
 but he had taken the Enghsh name, Copway, to mark 
 his conversion and set himself in easier commerce with 
 the outside world, as it was the custom with ancient 
 travellers to take a name familiar to the people they 
 were about to visit. His presence in the Congress was 
 the occasion of great curiosity and enthusiasm. A 
 correspondent of an English paper wrote : — 
 
 The ladies direct their eyes no longer to the finely bearded 
 men on the left ; the beardless Indian Chief, with the noble 
 Roman profile and the l<jng shining, black liair, takes their 
 attention. He bears in his hand a long and mystically orna- 
 mented staff which looks like a princely sceptre, and wears a 
 dark blue frock, Avitli a scarf over his shoulders, and bright 
 metallic plates on his right arm. The Frankforters are sorry 
 he wears a modern hat, instead of a cap with feathers, yet 
 this mixture of European elegance with Indian nature has a 
 striking effect, which is increased by the reflection that he 
 has come from the forests of the New World with a message 
 of Peace to the Old World. 
 
 On this aboriginal, as well as on Cobden or Girardin, 
 the great speech of Chapin fell like a whirlwind. In 
 the following simple narrative he has left his remem- 
 brance of the scene : — 
 
 I might have done something toward leaving a good im- 
 pression of the speaking powers of an aboriginal American, 
 had not a portly Yankee come forward and taken from my 
 
202 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 hand the laurels. But glad I am that it is an American who 
 has won the best expression of feeling and approbation from 
 the people. The speeches of Girardin and the matter-of-fact 
 Cobden had shaken the pillars of the immense building in 
 which the multitude were assembled, but the S2yecch was yet 
 to be delivered. The name of Chapin was called, and the 
 man who answered to that name passed by my side and went 
 up to the tribune. No sooner had he commenced speaking 
 than there was felt to be something beyond the power of 
 language, or the mere expression of ideas. Tlie audience 
 listened. Frequent applause escaped the assembly. He enu- 
 merated the reasons why \Ve should expect peace, and the 
 blessings which flow from it. In a few Avords, in vivid flashes, 
 he pictured the whole course of improvement and reform 
 which had followed the invention of the printing-press. The 
 Bible was on its way ; the sails of every land, and the 
 mighty power of steam, were urging on the period of univer- 
 sal peace ; oceans, lakes, rivers, air, electricity, all tilings 
 were in motion to spread the event which is the desire of the 
 nations. As he closed, the applause of the assembly made 
 the very building tremble. In the midst of this thundering 
 applause he again passed me, and as soon as he sat down I 
 arose, not knowing what I was doing, and said it was well 
 worth while to come four thousand miles to make such an ad- 
 dress ; and then sitting down and turning to my English 
 friends I whispered, " Beat that if you can ! " Certainly this 
 was very injudicious, inasmuch as it might have been con- 
 strued into an insult ; but I coidd not help it, for my nerves 
 had been so run away Avith that I lost all my self-command. 
 
 The English papers spoke in terms of unsparing praise 
 of this American orator. One of them declared : — 
 
 He commands admiration by the kingly majesty and 
 sublime beauty of his thought. Now he flings a page of 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 203 
 
 meaning into a single aphorism ; now he electrifies his spell- 
 bound hearers with a spontaneous burst of eloquence ; now 
 he dissolves their eyes to tears by a wizard stroke of pathos ; 
 now he controls their hearts with the sovereign power of a 
 monarch who rules the mind-realm. He infuses his soul into 
 his voice, and both into the nerves and hearts of his hearers. 
 
 On his return to Liverpool to embark for America, 
 the citizens demanded of him a speech, and he ad- 
 dressed an enthusiastic crowd in one of the Largest 
 halls in the city. Of this effort the following report 
 is from the "Liverpool JMercury": — 
 
 Rev. E. H. Chapin of New York, the gentleman whose out- 
 burst of eloquence made such an impression at the Peace 
 Congress at Frankfort, delivered an address on Temperance, 
 on Tuesday evening, at the Tuckerman Institute, the Eev. F. 
 Bishop in the chair. The room Avas crowded to excess, and 
 never was deeper impression produced at such a meeting than 
 that which followed the appeals of this eloquent orator. He 
 carried the audience completely with him, at one moment 
 rousing their consciences by enforcements of the duty of the 
 temperate to aid the movement for the sake of their perishing 
 brethren, and at the next awakening all their better sym- 
 pathies by the pathos with which he depicted the personal, 
 social, and moral evils that flow so plentifully from intemper- 
 ance. At the close of the address, a large number of persons 
 pressed forward, evidently under deep emotion, to join the 
 Temperance Society connected with the Institute. 
 
 But the oratorical triumphs and honors of this Euro- 
 pean trip were not at an end yet. On the home-hound 
 vessel, as on the ship that bore him to the Old World, 
 he gave his fellow voyagers a sense and a memory of 
 the majesty and beauty and sway of human speech 
 
204 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 that stands solitary in the scope of their experience. 
 The story is best told in the words of Mr. John E. 
 Warren, who himself made a part of the scene : — 
 
 In the year 1850 I had the good fortune to be a fellow- 
 passenger with Dr. Chapin on the return voyage from Eu- 
 rope to the United States. The trip was an unusuaUy long 
 and stormy one. Our vessel, which was one of the old Collins 
 Line, sustained considerable damage, and there were periods 
 when it seemed scarcely probable that we should ever reach 
 an earthly port. Among the passengers was a stout, burly 
 gentleman, whom nobody appeared to know, but with whom 
 we all became ac(praiuted, as people do at sea. A common 
 danger has a strange dissolving power. The ice of conven- 
 tionality melts away, and human hearts are drawn together 
 by an invisible force. The oneness of mankind is never so 
 strikingly shown as at such a time, when the skies are dark 
 and men are alone upon the broad ocean, with only a plank 
 between themselves and eternity. Our " mutual friend " 
 suffered not a little daring the passage with seasickness. 
 But he bore up under this peculiar trial with a sweetness of 
 temper that Job himself might have envied. So far from 
 entering any complaint against Providence, or cursing the day 
 he was born, as some of us similarly afflicted were tempted to 
 do, our companion, on the other hand, seemed rather to en- 
 joy the curious discomfort to which he was subjected. 
 
 He was as gay as a lark, overflowing with wit and humor, 
 while many of us were in the dumps. There was no end to 
 the pleasant tales with which he beguiled us. Anecdotes, 
 such as are wont to keep the table in a roar, flowed from his 
 lips as from an inexhaustible spring. He was never tired of 
 talking nor we of listening. And thus was the tedium of the 
 way relieved. 
 
 Charmed with our entertainer, we had no idea who he 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 205 
 
 was, nor did we take any pains to find out. He was so 
 natural, so simple, and so unaffected, that it did not occur 
 to us he might perhaps turn out to be an angel or a great 
 man in disguise. He was a most agreeable companion, and 
 that was quite enough for us. 
 
 Toward the close of the voyage it began to be whispered 
 about that our delightful comrade was a clergyman, and 
 that his name was Chapin. This report at first not only 
 caused surprise, but struck us as altogether absurd. There 
 was nothing about the man suggestive of the cloth, or calcu- 
 lated to give one an impression that he either was or thought 
 he was holier than other men. That he was a preacher of 
 any sort was a conception that had not entered our minds. 
 It was the last thing we should have imagined. The clergy, 
 as a rule, even when they try to be familiar, are in a sense 
 isolated and remote. There is a subtle something which lies 
 between them and us, and which marks them out as beings 
 of another class. In the case of Dr. Chapin, as he appeared 
 among his shipmates at this time, this mysterious and inde- 
 finable element was entirely wanting. He was not at all 
 like a saint, but like a man among men, and it was on this 
 account that he won all hearts. 
 
 If our miraculous story-teller Avas indeed a preacher, we 
 must hear him preach. Upon that point we were determined. 
 Somebody said that he had seen the name of a Mr. Chapin in 
 the "London Times," mentioned as" having made a most 
 eloquent address before the Peace Convention which had 
 recently met at Frankfort-on-the-Main. This was sufficient 
 to whet our curiosity to the highest pitch. Could this be the 
 man 1 He looked as little like an orator as a preacher. But 
 in this world it is not safe to judge men by their looks. A 
 rude garment of flesh may hide from us the beauty of the 
 soul, until the lightning of the spirit breaks through its en- 
 vironment. Sunday came, and we made up our minds that 
 
206 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 our new discovery must be tested ; our man must speak. But 
 there were difficulties in the way, and for some reason he 
 seemed indisposed to gratify us. He begged hard to be let 
 off; said his sermons were out of reach, that he did not like 
 to speak without preparation, etc. But we were inexorable. 
 Speak he must ! Seeing there was no escape, he finally said 
 that at the dinner-table he would make a few remarks. The 
 cabin was as still as death when he arose. We all felt that 
 it was a solemn occasion. We had passed safely through a 
 terrible storm, and were now nearing port. Our voyage Avas 
 nearly ended, and soon we were to be scattered, each to his 
 own, to meet on earth no more. Those who have been to 
 sea know what this feeling is. It is strong and deep, like the 
 sea itself. Is^o language of mine can give even the faintest 
 idea of the effect upon us of the words to which we that day 
 listened. The writer has heard none like them since. "Words, 
 forsooth ! They were living, burning thoughts ! The spell 
 they cast upon us was like that of some grand symphony, 
 whose divine music rings in one's ears forever. None who 
 were then present can have forgotten the wonderful scene. 
 Many of us for the first time then realized what a mighty 
 thing true eloquence is ! Every one present was moved as 
 he had never been moved before. 
 
 I cannot describe it. It is indescribable. A whirlwind 
 from some upper sphere seemed to sweep over us, and our 
 souls bent beneath its power. Strains, sweeter than those of 
 an aeolian harp, fell upon our ears and sank into the depths of 
 our hearts. It is only once in a lifetime that one can expect 
 to hear such eloquence as that. It is only once in a lifetime 
 that a great orator strikes his highest note. Even Dr. Chapin 
 never struck that note again. The Voyage of Life, — that was 
 his glorious and pathetic theme ! At such a moment, how 
 impressive, how appropriate ! There were few dry eyes when 
 the orator, in closing, alluded to the dangers which were past, 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 207 
 
 and the bitter parting that was to come, and spoke of the 
 time when we should all meet where there would be no more 
 parting and " no more sea ! " 
 
 If, in the trial of eloquence on shipboard, Mr. 
 Beecher, as he frankly confesses, though laying the 
 blame in some measure on the state of his health, 
 fell behind ]\Ir. Chapin, there transpired, in after years, 
 a still more conspicuous matching of the two men in 
 speech, in which the former owned up, in the most apt 
 way, that he was beaten. In this instance, also, he was 
 set at a disadvantage, since, by mistake, the two men had 
 been invited to speak to the same " toast," and Chapin 
 .was called on first. It was on the occasion of the Na- 
 tional Publishers and Booksellers' Dinner in the Crystal 
 Palace, Xew York. The crowd was large and full of 
 intelligence and fame, and the speakers were JMilburn, 
 the " blind preacher," Chapin, and Beecher. Mr. Wesley 
 Harper led Mr. Milburn to the platform, where he made 
 one of his gentle and tasteful speeches, an address as 
 fitting in thought as finished in phrase. He was fol- 
 lowed by Mr. Chapin, whose topic was " The Power of 
 the Press." The theme was great, and could not have 
 been more congenial to the speaker. A careful prepara- 
 tion for the effort, and a sympathetic crowd, served to 
 move in him all his powers of eloquence. It was in the 
 time of the Crimean War. Sevastopol had fallen, the 
 Eedan had been taken, the combined aripies had con- 
 quered ; and from this history of the hour he drew an 
 inspiration and a figure of speech which told on his 
 hearers like an electric shock. 
 
 " I love to hear," said he, " the rumbling of the steam-power 
 press better than the rattle and roar of artillery. It is silently 
 
208 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 attacking and vanquishing the Malakoffs of vice and the Re- 
 dans of evil, and its approaches cannot be resisted. I like 
 the click of the type in the composing-stick of the compos- 
 itor better than the click of the musket in the hand of the 
 soldier. It bears a leaden messenger of deadlier power, of 
 sublimer force, and a surer aim, which will hit its mark, 
 though it is a thousand years ahead.'' 
 
 With many strokes of thought and rhetoric equally 
 pertinent and overpowering he moved through his half- 
 hour of eloquence ; and excited men in the rear of the 
 room mounted the chairs and tables in their enthusiasm, 
 and rent the air with their wild and oft-repeated huzzas. 
 
 When Mr. Beecher was called to make his speech, he 
 came forward shaking his head and smiling a smile 
 which seemed to say in clearest terms : " I am outdone ; 
 I give it up." As reported in the " New York Evening 
 Post," his words were as follows : — 
 
 I know what my fate is on this occasion. After the pro- 
 foundly eloquent remarks of the reverend brother who has 
 just preceded me, wdiat could I say that you would care to 
 listen to 1 He has finished, but his resounding voice still fills 
 this vast building ; and in trying to say anything after him I 
 am reminded of an experiment, which I once made when a 
 boy, to ride behind two other boys astride a lean, bare-backed 
 horse. I see you anticipate the result. You are right. I 
 slid off over the crupper ! I wouldn't like to try that feat 
 again, with so many looking on as there Avould be here. 
 
 Rejoicing in the victory of his friend, with a generous 
 good-nature, he took his seat ; and he afterward said of 
 Chapin's speech : " It was magnificent, like corusca- 
 tions of fireworks." But when Mr. Beecher came to 
 speak at the funeral of his friendly and genial rival, 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 209 
 
 whose rapt lips were silent now forever, he paid him a 
 yet wider compliment : — 
 
 I have now been for more than forty years a speaker and 
 conversant with all speakers, and I have never met or heard 
 a man who, in his height and glow of eloquence, surpassed 
 or equalled him in many qualities. It was a trance to sit 
 under him in his ripest and most inspired hours ; it was a 
 vision of beauty ; the world seemed almost dark and cold for 
 an hour afterward. 
 
 Without peers in the American pulpit, and almost 
 every Sunday put in comparison and contrast by many 
 people, Chapin and Beecher knew no waning of friend- 
 ship, and were mutually glad in each other's victories. 
 
 The speaker was to be pitied whose lot it was to be 
 called to the platform after Dr. Chapin had spoken, for 
 in him the eloquence of the occasion was sure to cul- 
 minate, and any further words would be but as the sigh- 
 ing of the breeze after the roar of the gale. As Rev. 
 Dr. I. ]\I. Atwood has truly said : "After all the ora- 
 torical princes had competed for the crown, and Chapin 
 was summoned, there never was any dispute as to who 
 was king. In uplifting, thrilling, overpowering, unre- 
 portable eloquence, he left all contemporaries far behind 
 him." Many a one, blessed with a rarely gifted tongue, 
 has refused to come after him. On one occasion the 
 eloquent Starr Kmg, with a voice as golden and musical 
 as that ascribed to a Chrysostom, and a thought and 
 fancy which ever charmed the people, refused to speak 
 except he could precede Chapin. It was at one of the 
 series of May festivals held by the Universalists in 
 Faneuil Hall. The president of the day was Professor 
 B. F. Tweed, who had assured King that his request to 
 
 14 
 
210 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 come first should be granted. An intimate friend of 
 both the favorite orators, the Professor kn'ew full well 
 that this was the true order of succession. But by 
 some blunder of the toast-master Chapin's " senti- 
 ment " was read first, and, amid a tumult of applause, 
 he rose and spoke for twenty minutes or more, hurling 
 wit and wisdom and emotion into a wild torrent of elo- 
 quence. Meanwhile, King had retreated to a corner of 
 the hall, and sealed with a vow his purpose not to 
 speak. After Achilles what hope for Patroclus ? 
 
 The president summoned the Eev. Thomas Whitte- 
 more, a hero and a genuine wit, to lead the forlorn 
 hope, thinking thus to atone the mishap of the pro- 
 gramme in reference to King, and to give him time to 
 rally his fallen courage. But, when at length he called 
 upon the graceful and fascinating speaker, he got but a 
 shake of the head in response. After a little delay, for 
 the cheering to pass, he said : " The audience will toler- 
 ate a king, but not a kingdom {King dumb). We all 
 know, he is aching (a King) to speak. He seems just 
 now to be a 'thinking {thin King)." This run of puns 
 had the desired effect, and not in vain after the tempest 
 did he wave his magic wand over the people. 
 
 On the lecture platforms Chapin made some of his 
 great triumphs, and a good-sized book would not contain 
 the adjectives put in the superlative degree by the news- 
 papers, m twenty years, as descriptive of his eloquence. 
 The current epithets were : " unequalled," "matchless," 
 " simply magnificent," " never such thrilling outbursts 
 of oratory heard before." Eeporters were often over- 
 powered, and dropped their pencils in the midst of his 
 stormy passages, and awoke at the close of his lecture, 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 211 
 
 as from an opium dream, to find they liad nothing to 
 bear away for the space set apart for their reports. They 
 often begged of him the loan of his manuscript to make 
 up afterwards what they were unable to accomplish as 
 he proceeded, and would leave it at his hotel during the 
 night, or meet him at the train in the morning and give 
 him his manuscript and their hearty thanks at the same 
 time, and steal the privilege of an interview. He was 
 often set in comparison with the contemporary favorites 
 of the lyceum audiences, and given the first rank. An 
 instance of this measuring in his favor is happily told 
 by Harper's " Easy Chair " : — 
 
 During the days of his lyceum lecturing no man was more 
 popular upon the platform ; indeed, probably no one was so 
 universally popular as he. Jones, who used to lecture in the 
 same courses, said that he was proceeding one evening to ful- 
 fil an appointment, and as he sat, dismal and homesick, in the 
 cold car, he heard two men upon the seat before him talking, 
 as they approached the city, of the lectures and the lecturers. 
 
 " Have you ever heard Chapin 1 " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Well, there 's nothing like it ; he 's the king of them 
 aU." 
 
 " Who lectures to-night ? " 
 
 " Jones." 
 
 "Oh, Jones. Ever heard Jones ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How is he ? " 
 
 "Good speaker, but tedious — tedious." 
 
 Jones said that his head sank upon his bosom ; but that 
 when he afterward told the story to Chapin, the generous 
 king of them all shook and shouted Avith glee, and cried : 
 " Pshaw ! he knew ye, Hal, he knew ye, and meant to have 
 his joke." 
 
212 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 It is one of the tests of eloquence, that it is equal to 
 the conquest of prejudice and the capture of the mind 
 and heart in spite of their stuhborn resistance. When 
 the tongue proves stronger than the defiant will, then it 
 has won the credit of oratory. Philip of Macedon, on 
 hearing the report of one of Demosthenes' Philippics, 
 or orations against himself, paid the orator the compli- 
 ment of saying : " Had I been there, he would have 
 persuaded me to take up arms against myself." Of 
 Burke's eloquent impeachment of Warren Hastings, the 
 latter said : " As I listened to the orator I felt for 
 more than half an hour as if I were the most culpable 
 being on earth." Thus in the " Arabian Nights " the tri- 
 umphant story-teller, Scheherezade, compelled the cruel 
 Sultan to spare her life in spite of his fixed purpose to 
 take it. And with a similar sway, on one occasion. Dr. 
 Chapin straightened out a bigot, who had curled himself 
 up in sectarian defiance. He was one of the old-time dea- 
 cons who held Universalist ministers in holy contempt, 
 but who, out of respect to his office in the temperance 
 order, had come on the platform with others where the 
 eloquent Chapin was to speak. With a frowning glance 
 at the orator whom he had never seen before, he bent his 
 head near to his knees and fixed his eyes rigidly on the 
 floor. In a few moments after the discourse got under 
 way, and the telling climaxes began to recur, it was ob- 
 served that the deacon's head began to lift a little. 
 Soon his face became visible to the audience. By de- 
 grees he assumed an upright posture in his chair, with 
 his face actually aglow with interest, and his mouth 
 open in wonder. No one had ever seen the deacon look 
 so upright and tall before ; and it was solely the rare 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 213 
 
 power of Dr. Chapin's eloquence that overcame his 
 sectarian curvature. 
 
 It was a significant witness of Dr. Chapin's triumph- 
 ant eloquence, that those who were wont to hear him 
 generally regarded his last effort as his greatest. Their 
 latest tumult of emotion made it quite impossible for 
 them to exercise a rational remembrance. " I had a 
 dear old friend," says Eev. Dr. T. J. Sawyer, " to whom 
 I had preached fifteen years, — and who ought by that 
 time, I thought, to know something about poor preach- 
 ing, — who subsequently became a constant hearer of Dr. 
 Chapin, and used to come every Monday to the office of 
 the ' Christian Ambassador,' which I was then editing, 
 to tell me about the preceding Sunday's sermons ; and 
 his report, besides some account of the subject and 
 mode of treatment, which he was quite competent to 
 give, was always summed up by the remark, that ' yes- 
 terday Dr. Chapin exceeded himself ! ' " And this was 
 indeed the impression which the great mass of his hear- 
 ers carried away with them from almost every service. 
 The Rev. Thomas "Whittemore rarely heard him speak 
 that he did not report in the " Trumpet," of which he 
 was editor, that " the orator went beyond himself," " he 
 never spoke with such power before," " he surpassed 
 his own high standard of eloquence," or a similar state- 
 ment of transcendency. It was the illusion of a present 
 great emotion in contrast with one of equal greatness, it 
 may be, from which memory, " the fading sense," had 
 permitted something of vividness to escape. 
 
 In a series of " Pulpit Portraits," John Ross Dix 
 drew one of Dr. Chapin as he stood pouring his tide of 
 eloquence over an evening audience which filled the 
 
214 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 pews and aisles and pressed up the pulpit stairs of the 
 Broadway Church. Studying the sermon and watching 
 its effect he says : " Some of the most nervously sensi- 
 tive of his audience will not sleep very soundly to-night, 
 nor get to sleep very early ; it is an opium dream, an 
 enchantment, a fairyland through which he has led 
 them." Eef erring to the effect of Chapin's sermons on 
 him, Mr. E. B. Fellows, an old parishioner, thus ex- 
 presses himself : "I knew I had heard what I ought to 
 have heard, and what I wanted to hear ; and yet so 
 carried away was I, I could not recall what had been 
 said. I was lost in feeling. I seemed in a rapture. It 
 was heaven." Even so cool a head as that of Eichard 
 Frothingham, the historian, was intoxicated by the 
 magical stimulus of Chapin's preaching, and he con- 
 fessed to walking home from church repeatedly as one 
 who seemed not to be in the flesh and walking on the 
 ground. He had been lifted into a holy ecstasy. After 
 the manner of one of whom Paul speaks, " he was 
 caught up into Paradise," but he could not tell what he 
 had heard, nor could he set forth his emotions. He 
 had been a lotus-eater while sitting in his pew, had 
 breathed ravishing odors from celestial fields, and went 
 away in a rapt and sweet bewilderment. The eminent 
 United States Senator, Henry Wilson, himself a Con- 
 gregationalist, was accustomed to hear Dr. Chapin 
 whenever he spent a Sunday in New York ; and on one 
 occasion, having been so moved in his heart as to ex- 
 press himself by audible sobs and the tears of a holy 
 gladness, he remarked to a regular attendant at the 
 church, " You know not what a sacred privilege you 
 have who can hear this great preacher every Sunday ! " 
 
THE TRIUMPHS OF ELOQUENCE. 215 
 
 " He rules my emotions with the power of a monarch," 
 wrote some one in the " New York Metropolitan ; " and 
 the Hon. William H. Seward said, " No preacher ever 
 so impressed me." " In a state of religious indifference, 
 but for old acquaintance' sake," says Mr. 0. Hutchinson, 
 " I went to hear Chapm in Murray Street, and he shook 
 my lethargy all out of me." In him the Eev. L. C. 
 Browne found his dream of the orator and minister 
 fulfilled: — 
 
 In early time I had a loved ideal 
 Of Leaven-tuned eloquence from human tongue, 
 
 And sought in vain to find the vision real 
 
 In the long-perished years when life was young. 
 
 At length I saw and recognized the being 
 
 Born of young fancy while the heart was warm, 
 
 And I was satisfied and charmed in seeing 
 My early dream fulfilled in living form. 
 
 No man could blend so much of force and beauty, 
 Such radiant imagery with tones so grand. 
 
 Such strong persuasion to the way of duty, 
 Such skill to move, to soften, and command. 
 
XIII. 
 
 OEATOEICAL EESOITRCES. 
 
 It is a legend of Plato that, when an infant, his 
 father, Aristo, took him and his mother and went to 
 Hymettus to sacrifice to the Muses, and while they were 
 engaged in the divine rites the bees of that flower-land 
 came and distilled honey on the lips of the child. 
 Hence the sweetness of his words and the charms of 
 his voice. The pleasing story is a hint of the fact that 
 all rare gifts are derived from nature, that the great artist 
 is in league with Apollo, the great poet is born and not 
 made, and the great orator comes with a conferred outfit. 
 
 In this view of the case there is a large degree of 
 truth; and hence in any just analysis of the eloquence 
 of Dr. Chapin there must be a prompt recognition of 
 his inherited good fortune. To the end of effective 
 speech his body was a facile and powerful agent. It 
 engaged the eye at a glance by its largeness and evident 
 animation, its every step being firm and energetic, and 
 its sitting posture full of positiveness and life, as if 
 mighty inner forces were only held in temporary check 
 by the power of will ; and thus he aroused expectancy, 
 which is ever a prime advantage with oratory, by sim- 
 ply coming before an assembly and taking his seat. 
 For when the eye beheld him, the ear would hear him. 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 217 
 
 What the corporeally less favored speaker has to do 
 by a studied exordium he accomplished by his mere 
 presence, and could omit that difficult part of the art of 
 oratory, which has to do with the fostering of a prone- 
 ness to listen. And in his case this proneness was of 
 the best type, because his apparent personality, divested 
 of all suggestion of the trivial, struck the deeper life of 
 the observer and set the soul on the alert. He came 
 before the eye as the vivid embodiment of higher forces, 
 and with the air of one bent on the most serious busi- 
 ness. His was no classic and ideal form which art 
 would seek to copy ; in movement he was rather awk- 
 ward than graceful; on his face were no soft and fluent 
 lines or fresh tints ; and his raiment was never a happy 
 fit. Not at all to graces of this kuid was his personal 
 sway due, for then had it been less j)owerful ; but 
 rather to the gi^aphic manifestation of character — the 
 thoughts that breathe, the emotions that thrill, and 
 energies that move with the might of nature's forces ; 
 and hence the best that was in man rose to greet him 
 as he moved with a sort of roll, like a ship toiling in a 
 heavy sea, to his pulpit or platform, and eagerly the 
 ear waited to listen. 
 
 But if his bodily presence was thus a power in itself, 
 — a speech in silence, a sufficient exordium, — it indeed 
 grew to a startlmg and awe-inspiring figure under the 
 magnetism of his soul, as he moved through the scen- 
 ery of his discourse. In the life of Dr. Chapin there 
 is nothing more remarkable than the fact that, while he 
 was physically disinclined to exercise, — seeking a seat 
 as his first choice, hazardmg health rather than compel 
 himself to take a walk, ordering a carriage to convey 
 
218 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 him a couple of hundred rods sooner than go on foot, — 
 still was his body a swift and facile and willing servant 
 of his soul, and it was equal to the largest demand laid 
 upon it by his rapt emotions, as the great organ in the 
 Boston Music Hall is equal to the rendering of the vast 
 and stormy harmonies of Bach. At the first wave of 
 the wand of sentiment, he threw off his bodily inertia, 
 and rose, like a giant from sleep, to an overwhelming 
 energy. As a tree sways and vibrates in a gale, so 
 would his massive form toil and strive as some strong 
 gust of feeling swept down on it; and his audience 
 would fairly lose its breath for a time amid the wild 
 rush of emotion he would thus summon to their hearts. 
 In the lofty passages of oratory it is doubtful if any 
 speaker ever addressed the eye more overpoweringly ; 
 for in the show of passion a Demosthenes could not 
 have surpassed him, — nor a Peter the Hermit in vehe- 
 mence, nor a Luther in hot energy, nor a Eowland Hill 
 in the rush and force of climaxes, nor a Patrick Henry 
 in the majesty of declamation. When his inner gifts 
 were in full play he was a most thrilling embodiment 
 of eloquence ; and so unstudied and real were his out- 
 bursts that the eye scarcely needed the aid of the ear to 
 interpret them, and to bear to the soul their full force. 
 
 But his voice was another of his rare physical advan- 
 tages as an orator. Only once in a very long time does 
 nature endow a public speaker with such a voice. Its 
 great volume was fully equalled by its fine qualities. 
 It w\as at once strong, flexible, and rich in its tones. 
 " Oh, hear that voice ! " has been the exclamation of mul- 
 titudes who have chanced to catch its notes on the side- 
 walk or in the car. 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 219 
 
 " I recall distinctly the first time I ever saw Dr. Chapin," 
 writes Miss Sarah G. Daley. " It must have been, I think, in 
 the earlier years of his being at Pigeon Cove, for I Avas quite 
 a little girl. I was at the waterside with my grandfather, 
 who was busy about his boat, when two gentlemen drove vip, 
 and asked my grandfather if he could set them across 'Squam 
 River to Coffin's Beach, He could and did. I remember 
 distinctly with what pleasure I listened to every word uttered 
 by the voice that sounded to my childish ears like some rare 
 instrument. I had never heard such a voice, I thought. It 
 "was some days later that I learned that the gentleman with 
 the wonderful voice was E. H. Chapin." 
 
 And it was a rare instrument she heard, — a finely 
 strung vocal organ, whose power and mellowness struck 
 the ear as alike remarkable. It was so grand and vari- 
 ant and musical, that to have heard only its tones, apart 
 from the aid of words, would have enchanted the ear. 
 
 It was not the dry, thin, hard voice of the intellect, 
 heard so often from the professor's chair, and not infre- 
 quently from the pulpit, but a voice rounded and 
 enriched by emotion. 
 
 "He never had to j^ut the pebbles of Demosthenes into his 
 mouth," said Dr. Bellows, "to conquer any natural obstacles 
 to clear utterance. Theodore Parker said of Samuel J. May 
 that ^Nature made his voice to say the Beatitudes with. God 
 made our friend Cliapin's voice to ring through vast croAvds 
 of humanity, — to startle the indifferent, to fasten the attention 
 of the careless, and to rivet the ears of listening thousands. 
 Clear as a clarion, and loud as a park of artillerj% it has been 
 the apt vehicle for thoughts that breathe and Avords that burn. 
 For his tuneful throat has been only the passage for a current 
 of impassioned feeling and vigorous thinking ; and eloquence 
 in him has been the volcano's flame, fed from a fiery heart of 
 
220 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 inexhaustible earnestness, and ever-active brooding on life's 
 great problems. Nature made him for an orator, and Divine 
 Grace adopted him as one of her most potent mouthpieces." 
 
 There was no idea so grand, no sentiment so lofty or 
 beautiful or ardent, that his voice did not seem to glo- 
 rify as it gave it utterance. The hearer was often 
 startled at the fresh sense he would read into, or out of, 
 the most familiar words. The old became new as he 
 enunciated it, and the weak strong, and the strong sov- 
 ereign. Saadi tells us of "a man with a feeble and 
 harsh voice who was reading the Koran, when a holy 
 man passing by asked him what was his monthly sti- 
 pend. He answered, ' Nothing at all.' The man in- 
 quired, ' Why, then, do you take so much trouble?' He 
 replied, ' I read for the sake of God.' The other rejoined, 
 ' For the sake of God do not read ; for, if you read the 
 Koran in this manner, you will destroy the splendor of 
 Islamism.' " But no splendor of Christianity ever suf- 
 fered through being rendered by the soul-touched voice 
 of Dr. Chapin. 
 
 But a supple and powerful body and a facile and 
 ample voice do not make an orator, but are only the 
 needful agents or instruments of the oratorical genius, 
 which is a higher gift. What the superb organ is to 
 the gifted musician and his music, such are the bodily 
 powers to the eloquent soul. They are not the basis of 
 oratory, but only its aids. Back of action and voice 
 lies the secret of speech that charms and overpowers. 
 In all ages the wise ones have heaped satire on the 
 rant and noise, born of the abundant flesh, which affect 
 to be eloquence. The Scotch proverb says : " The great- 
 est bummer is never the best bee;" and Shakespeare w\as 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 221 
 
 deeply incensed at the speaker who substituted sound 
 for sense : " Oh, it offends me to the soul to hear a ro- 
 bustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, 
 to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who, 
 for the most part, are capable of nothing but inexpli- 
 cable dumb-shows and noise. I would have such a fel- 
 low whipped for o'erdoing Termagant ; it out-Herods 
 Herod. Pray you, avoid it." In a like spirit of impa- 
 tience does the great London preacher, Spurgeon, rebuke 
 this corporeal excess in oratory : " It is an infliction, 
 not to be endured twice, to hear a brother, who mistakes 
 perspiration for inspiration, tear along like a wild horse 
 with a hornet in its ear, till he has no more wind and 
 must needs pause to pump his lungs full again." 
 
 In his earlier life Chapin may have been sometimes 
 betrayed by the exuberance of his physical powers into 
 this fault so exposed to satire. The subtle mind of 
 Starr King, his youthful parishioner, detected at a 
 glance, as his eloquent young pastor entered the pulpit, 
 the order of oratory which was about to be displayed. 
 If Chapin came with poor outfit for the service he dashed 
 into the pulpit with a sort of frenzy (as King noticed), 
 rushed from seat to desk and desk to seat, worked his 
 body into a fever and sweat, gave his arms to a wildness 
 of gesture, and pressed his voice to an uproar. Chapin 
 confessed to having lost the favor of the Boston Mer- 
 cantile Library Association by the boisterousness of his 
 first lecture before it. His ordinary preaching, in that 
 heyday of his life, when his inner resources scarcely 
 balanced his outer energies, was, no doubt, as largely 
 mixed with physical forces as the laws of a sound criti- 
 cism would allow. It was, however, a coveted and not 
 
222 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 injurious magnetism to tlie people, who flocked to have 
 the fiery currents sweep through them, and a sure sign 
 of a riper greatness of no ordinary type, since it is the 
 law of eloquence, with the advancing years, to draw 
 less of its sway from the body and more from the 
 soul. 
 
 Passing to a study of the higher sources of Chapin's 
 oratory, we shall find the chief merit must be accorded 
 to his rare spiritual ardor or enthusiasm, which seems 
 to be the prime quality of all effective genius, the secret 
 of greatness in art, music, and poetry, as in speech. 
 Without its aid great talents will lie dormant, but by 
 it they will be set at their best and made mighty in 
 power. Every one knows what advantage lies in being 
 kindled ; for he who could say nothing before, can say 
 anything now, and with rare logic, imagination, and 
 force ; sterility becomes suddenly fertile, as if the sandy 
 desert were to bloom and bear fruit in abundance ; cow- 
 ardice gives place to courage, or we have exchanged our 
 fawn for a lion. Is man the same being to-day he was 
 yesterday, — 71010 so aerial and lithe, full of rapt visions, 
 eager for better communions, having down his rare 
 books for rare occasions, or fleeing to gaze again and 
 worthily at some fine landscape or work of art, but then 
 only a mole without eyes in some dark corner, or a 
 foolish bat flying blind in the open day ? The same and 
 not the same ; the same 2^lus a heat that has set free the 
 frozen and pent-up currents, or a quickened sensibility 
 that gives him to himself, installs him in full command 
 of his powers, and befriends him at whatever task he 
 attempts, as a crisp air gives quickness and vigor to our 
 whole being. In this gift of emotion, thus effective. 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 223 
 
 Chapin took rank with the most ardent souls known in 
 the history of man. 
 
 It is not enough to say that he warmed toward his 
 theme ; he indeed flamed as he mused on it and spoke of 
 it. In the years of his prime he only needed to engage 
 his thoughts and rise to his feet to have the inner fire.s 
 set to burning like a furnace. " His capacity of glow," 
 said Dr. Bellows, " never failed in any public address 
 to make that which only smokes under the heat of 
 other orators to flame from his lips." Or, to turn from 
 fire to water for a type of his enthusiasm, we find it set 
 forth by Mr. Beecher : " His eloquence was not a canal 
 but a rushing river." 
 
 But Mr. Chapin did not violate the true law of 
 oratory by a mondtony of enthusiasm and energy. He 
 was the master of climaxes, and was studied by a For- 
 rest, a Davenport, a Lawrence Barrett, that they might 
 catch his art of hurling his whole being tumultuously, 
 and seemingly at his pleasure, into a single period or a 
 paragrapli, making it startling like the flash of light- 
 nmg and the crash of thunder, and then instantly as- 
 suming a calmer mood. The swiftness and sweep of 
 his alternations were surprises even to the masters of 
 passion. Said Forrest, " Chapin beats the tragic stage 
 for explosive effects." Indeed so great and perfect 
 was his command of his muscles and vocal powers and 
 passions that, if he saw fit, he could make a thrilling 
 climax of a platitude, electrify and awe his hearers with 
 a commonplace, make a molehill play the part of a 
 mountain with its crags and caverns and clouds ; and 
 the reader of one of his printed sermons would hardly 
 be al)le to tell where, in the preaching of it, if it were 
 
224 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 preached in liis raid-years, he swept his audience into 
 breathless moods of wonder and rapture. In fact, he 
 did it very much at his pleasure ; or rather, he yielded 
 his swift and strong feelings and mighty powers of ex- 
 pression to the touch of a kindling phrase, of which the 
 ordinary reader would take no note. There are not 
 wanting many telling climaxes on his printed pages, for 
 to such the ardent writer is ever borne, but he felt and 
 made more than others would detect. 
 
 In this rare heat and glow, diffused in all his being as 
 he spoke, now a serene fire and now a wild tiame, and 
 ever increasing as lie moved through his discourse, we 
 have the prime secret of his eloquence. He was earnest, 
 ardent, enthusiastic, and therefore he was eloquent. 
 The art of his oratory was primarily in the heart of it. 
 Because he had more sentiment and passion than others 
 was he more mighty in speech. 
 
 The remaining sources of his eloquence are to be 
 found in those intellectual and moral conditions which 
 are tributary to enthusiasm, making it a greater cer- 
 tainty, raising it to a higher level, giving it more com- 
 manding forms, and rendering it more nobly effective. 
 Whatever else there may be, without heat there is no 
 eloquence; and Dr. Chapin looked well to the supply 
 of fuel with which to kindle and inflame the heart. To 
 this end he sought great themes for his sermons, since 
 these would greatly stir his soul and arouse his senti- 
 ments. Not only had he the gift of looking his subjects 
 into their broadest proportions, but he sought broad 
 subjects, before which he would naturally kindle, as 
 before a "reat work of art or a towering mountain. The 
 deeps of the inner life are not likely to be broken up 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 225 
 
 and agitated at the cor.templation of a trifle, an empty 
 whim, a theme so trivial and remote from the life of 
 man as a moral and religious being that its discussion 
 were a matter of indifference. The s6ul is rational, and 
 rises before its topic in proportion to its greatness and 
 value. A penny print cannot affect it like a great fresco, 
 nor a petty conceit like a solemn question of faith and 
 ethics. Hence Dr. Chapin chose such ^'ital and in- 
 spiring subjects as would arouse him as he mused on 
 them. A list of his themes, filling the space of a chap- 
 ter, would be excellent reading for clergyman and lay- 
 man, as showing the shrines at which his soul was set 
 aglow in its contemplations, and before which every 
 one would be likely to offer an earnest worship. Turn- 
 ing from the thin and useless topics too often discussed 
 in the pulpit, the mere bric-a-brac of theology, the meta- 
 physical puzzles of the creeds or the temporary caprices 
 of the hour, about which the soul has no concern, how 
 great and stirring do his subjects appear : " The Divine 
 Providence," "The Principle of the Divme Kingdom," 
 " Faith and its Aspirations," " Life in Christ," " Ideals of 
 Life," " The Inward Springs," " Longing for Ptighteous- 
 ness," " Overcoming the World," " The Spiritual Pesur- 
 rection," " The Heavenly State." Solemn appeals are 
 these to the heart in every age and place, and in the 
 study of them it will find its noblest sentiments stirred, 
 as well as its richest joys enhanced. 
 
 Wliile Dr. Chapin avoided trivial topics, and those 
 which address the intellect chiefly, - — the dogmas around 
 which debate raises its din and dust, while the soul 
 turns away its gaze and waits to hear a better word, — he 
 also left untouched, because they are uninspiring, all 
 
 15 
 
226 LTFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 subjects on which his mind was not made up and his 
 heart full of confidence. He avoided the chill of doubt 
 in making his messages for the people. He felt the 
 incompatibility of slcepticism and enthusiasm, of a dis- 
 tracted mental state and an earnest frame of spirit, of 
 a suspended faith and an effective eloquence, and se- 
 lected his' subjects from the circle of his convictions. 
 He was not open to the criticism of the celebrated Row- 
 land Hill, that " some ministers choose dubious themes, 
 which they treat hesitatingly, as a donkey mumbles this- 
 tles." He dealt in great affirmations, and hurled his 
 whole being unimpeded along the channel of his 
 thought. He would be on the best of terms with 
 his subject, — a full believer in it, an ardent lover of 
 it, — and then glow before it in his study, as he unfolded 
 it, and in his pulpit, as he bore it to the waiting people, 
 that it might affect them as it affected him. 
 
 Another fire at which he warmed and Idndled his 
 soul, and enhanced his eloquence, is the mystic but 
 mighty flame of beauty. In the words of Plato: 
 "Beauty is a kind of tyranny to which man gives 
 himself in a ready captivity." In the classic picture 
 Beauty rides on a Lion, to signify its majesty and sway; 
 or, in Mr. Emerson's phrase, " Beauty is the form under 
 which the intellect prefers to study the world." It is 
 one of the secrets of the universe which is most inspir- 
 ing of love, enthusiasm, activity, and power. He who 
 is its creator, and adorns his work as he executes it, will 
 not tire at his task, but will realize a growing ardor and 
 power in its performance. Thus the orator is touched 
 by the music of his own voice, kindled by the felicity 
 of liis rhetoric, aroused by his happy tropes and similes, 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 227 
 
 braced by his lucky conden,sations, and cheered by the 
 skill of his arguments ; and Dr. Chapin's eloquence M'as 
 under a heavy debt to these helps to emotion. He 
 asked Beauty to come and sit by him as he made his 
 sermon or meditated his speech, that she might breathe 
 her inspiring breath on his soul. 
 
 liarely has a preacher equalled him in the art of orna- 
 mentation, and thousands upon thousands of entranced 
 listeners have exclaimed : " How beautiful ! how grand ! " 
 as his glowing imagery passed before them, not aware 
 that that imagery had reacted on the soul of the speaker 
 and the deeper sentiments of their own being, making a 
 divine enthusiasm the ally of the aesthetic delight. 
 " The orator must be, to a certain extent, a poet," says 
 Mr. Emerson. " We are such imaginative creatures, 
 that nothimr so works on the human mind, barbarous 
 or civil, as a trope. Condense some daily experience 
 into a glowing symbol, and an audience is electrified." 
 But speaker and hearer are alike susceptible to the magic 
 of beauty, and awaken at the touch of the imagination, 
 as Memnon's statue awoke at the streaming in of the 
 morning sunlight. A commonplace period is a poppy, 
 and invites sleep in the one who makes it and in the 
 one who listens to it. A platitude is a sponge dipped 
 in morphine. A common thought in a common 
 dress is uninteresting and tiresome to everybody, 
 and a continuous procession of such will set all 
 parties to yawning. But periods that are fresh and 
 strong and decorated, and paragraphs in which the im- 
 agination plays its part, will set thought and sentiment 
 at a vast advantage ; and to this source we must trace 
 one of the secrets of Dr. Chapin's eloquence. His man- 
 
228 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 uscript was illuminated, and he was the first to glow 
 before the magical radiance. He created around him a 
 pictorial realm, and was inspired by the scenery. He 
 found a happy incitement in a terse phrase, and his soul 
 rushed into a graphic figure of speech. He could com- 
 pel force mto a platitude, but a strong and poetic state- 
 ment aroused all the powers within him. 
 
 Nor must we overlook his humane spirit in our at- 
 tempt to account for his enthusiasm in the pulpit and 
 on the platform. A loving heart makes eloquent lips. 
 For those we love we can speak with a fervor to which 
 indifference, or a cold art, can make no approach. It is 
 a standard demand in the books on oratory, from Quin- 
 tilian to the latest writer, that the speaker must be in 
 full sympathy with his hearers, that he may success- 
 fully engage himself and them. " Love is the sap of 
 the gospel, the secret of lively and effectual preaching, 
 the magic power of eloquence," said the great French 
 preacher, Abbe Mullois. " The true evangehcal fervor 
 comes with affectionate interest iu souls," says Dr. 
 Storrs ; and Phillips Brooks, in his Yale Lectures, de- 
 clares that " no man preaches well who has not a strong 
 and deep appreciation of humanity." But Chapin had 
 a great and tender heart toward every class of his 
 hearers, — a keen sympathy with the poor and the sor- 
 rowing, a swift pity for the sinful, a sincere regard for 
 those struggling to conquer temptation, a ready and 
 hearty interest in those striving to realize a true ideal 
 of life, a ready compassion for the honest skeptic, es- 
 teem for the pure and good, and an abounding gladness 
 in all joy ; and in this humanity of his heart his themes 
 rose before him as beneficent opportunities, and his 
 
ORATORICAL EESOUECES. 229 
 
 words became touching and powerful as he wrote and 
 S}3oke for the good of souls. 
 
 Another source of his eloquence was his deep and 
 fervent piety. In all ages the most inspired lips have 
 been touched by the Divinity. From Isaiah to Dr. 
 Channing, faith in God, and a keeping of the soul in 
 unity with the Holy Spirit, have quickened the genius 
 of the great preachers and made their words welcome 
 and efiective. In the light of immortality the preach- 
 er's office is magnified ; under a divine government, sin 
 and holiness assume gravest aspects ; and he who goes 
 to his pulpit with the strongest conviction and sense of 
 these facts vnll go most in the spirit of his service. He 
 will not stand there as an idler, nor a time-server, nor 
 a seeker of his own glory, but as one who has a most 
 serious business on his hands, to which he would com- 
 mit every gift of his being. In Dr. Chapin's implicit 
 and ardent faith in God we must see one source of his 
 fervid eloquence. On this pomt the Eev. C. R. Moor 
 truly remarks : — 
 
 The reHgious resource of his oratory must ever rank as the 
 most special and the highest ; this entered largely into and 
 determined very much the quality of whatever was noblest 
 and best in all he did and said. They who heard him only 
 on the lecture platform, or when he was considering subjects 
 that did not legitimately require and to which he could not 
 thus bring the full force of his religious powers, never fairly 
 heard him' at all. More than all things else, he was a relig- 
 ious genius ; in every best sense he was pre-eminently a 
 Christian preacher, whose eloquence had large root in the re- 
 ligiousness of his natural constitution and large flowers and 
 fruitage in the atmosphere of the Kingdom of Heaven. His 
 
230 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIK. 
 
 Christian zeal, enthusiasm, and passion, tiiat might have swept 
 him into fanaticism but for their balancing and hence conser- 
 vative forces, were thus turned into currents of deepest, 
 truest life, and breathed through congregations as mighty 
 ■winds of the spirit. His volumes of sermons, — Crown of 
 Thorns, Hours of Commuiuon, Lord's Prayer, and The Beati- 
 tudes, — preached for the most part during the earlier years 
 of his ministry, are illustrations of his reverence for and faith 
 in the simplest and highest truths of religion, as themes by 
 which sacred eloquence, the highest of all eloquence, could 
 most effectually educate and bless mankind. It was a direct 
 consideration of the pure Gospel — some scene in the life of 
 Christ or his apostles, some special principle or influence of 
 Christianity — that always most inspired the mind and heart 
 and tongue of this master of oratory, and by which he most 
 thrilled and helped his hearers. He was so much of a relig- 
 ious genius, and he had so large Christian culture, that he saw 
 symbols, suggestions, and lessons of moral and spiritual life 
 everywhere. They filled nature and human history and ex- 
 perience — the M'hole world — so full to his vision, that it 
 seemed very easy for him to shower these upon the souls of 
 his fellow-men in richest abundance. But the Cross of Jesus 
 was the sign of it all ; around that centred his greatest and 
 holiest thoughts and feelings, there glowed his most lofty, 
 tender and impressive speech. 
 
 Amoncc liis oratorical resources must also be noted 
 the mood of engagedness and emotion into which he 
 was wont to bring himself on the eve of speaking, by 
 secluded musing and prayer. He sacrificed all else to 
 the generation of enthusiasm in his own heart. He 
 made sure of his emotion before coming to the public 
 to address it, not willing to risk even his quick and 
 strong sensibilities to the fortune of the hour. He was 
 
ORATORICAL RESOURCES. 231 
 
 self-exacting as an anchorite, who spends an arduous 
 preliminary season in making ready for his matin or 
 vesper service. It might be said of him as it was of 
 Whitefield : " He was the prince of preachers without 
 the veil, because he was a Jacob within the veil. His 
 face shone when he came down from the Mount, be- 
 cause he had been so long alone with God on the 
 Mount." As an athlete dare not come to the arena un- 
 less he has set every nerve and muscle at its best by a 
 fittmg excitation, so Chapin feared to undertake his 
 sacred task, not merely in sluggish or frivolous frame of 
 mind, but unless he had made sure of being in the 
 spirit and power of his service. To this end he devoted a 
 preliminary hour, or, it may be, the entire Sunday 
 morning. He sought solitude and its high officer. He 
 mused that he might set the fires burning. Amid the 
 currents of spiritual influence, which never sweep over 
 the soul except to freshen and inspire it, he sought to 
 place himself. With his theme he wrestled in advance. 
 By a sense of the needs of the people he would awaken 
 his heart. 
 
 "I have seen Dr. Chapin," says Rev. C. E. Moor, "when 
 he was soon to speak on ahiiost every variety of occasion and 
 theme, and generally under circumstances that rendered his 
 being alone, or having complete possession of himself, the 
 most difficult ; but I recall no such time that he did not find 
 a vacant room or office, or, if this seemed impossible, retire 
 into himself quite as surely, while his body remained with 
 friends, and sometimes with the multitude. "When I was 
 pastor in Portland, for several years in succession he gave one 
 of the hottest of the summer Sundays to my people, always 
 preaching three sermons, and probably never preaching better. 
 
232 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 He usually made Lis home, while in the city, with his es- 
 teemed friends, James L. Farmer and family ; but I remem- 
 ber, as clearly as if it were yesterday, one day he gave to me 
 and mine, and nothing of that home visit do I recall more 
 distinctly than the fact that at least an hour before each 
 service he began to walk his room Avith a quick, firm step, 
 peculiarly his own at such times, which was continued, with 
 seemingly increasing rapidity and solidity, until the churcli 
 bells struck their last call. I hear those footsteps of twenty- 
 five years ago at this moment as certainly as I heard 'a voice ' 
 that day which ' is still,' or possess now any of the life deeply 
 quickened then in the congregation as it came from one who 
 gave because he had received, and who knew the meaning of 
 every kind of true preparation more thoroughly than most 
 successful men far less gifted by nature." 
 
XIV. 
 
 SEEMONS AND LECTURES. 
 
 Persistence of habit must be regarded as one of the 
 marked traits in Dr. Chapin's hfe. That which he had 
 become accustomed to do seemed to assume a sacred 
 aspect before his eyes, he put such zest into the per- 
 formance ; or it impressed him as a necessity, by reason 
 of the awkwardness which he often experienced in strik- 
 ing out and following some new order or method. Thus 
 having in early life made Pigeon Cove his summer resort, 
 he kept on doing so to the end of his days, spending 
 more or less of the heated terms at this place for thirty- 
 one years. Year after year he had his pocket diary of 
 one size and style, and, if it might be so, of one man's 
 make ; and, says his bookseller, " it was often a heavy 
 job to fill his little order for a diary." In the fashion 
 of his manuscripts this adherence to habit stands out in 
 a conspicuous degree. At least sixteen hundred of his 
 eighteen hundred and twenty-five written sermons are 
 as like in form as they could possibly be under the 
 changes which have taken place in the paper-making 
 art. The small-size " note paper " was the measure of 
 his page, and the area of the writing, as well as its 
 style, appears in the printed fac-similes. For more than 
 thirty years he held to this precise form, which every 
 
234 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 minister but one in a thousand would declare to be the 
 worst form possible, generating a cramped penmanship, 
 imposing a hardship, on the eyes, and giving steady em- 
 ployment to one hand to turn the leaves and hold the 
 small, perverse manuscript from closing. All who were 
 wont to hear Dr. Chapin will recall the tax levied on 
 his attention by this form of his sermon. While it was 
 true of him, as of the old Scotch woman's minister, 
 "The gude man ha' a pith wi' his paper," it is quite 
 likely that pith was at times less pungent than it would 
 have been had his page been more open and his chi- 
 rography bolder. In Dean Swift's advice to a clergy- 
 man even Dr. Chapin might have found a useful hint : 
 " Let me entreat you to add one half-crown a year to 
 the article of paper, to transcribe your sermons in as 
 large and plain a manner as you can, and either make 
 no interlineation, or change the whole leaf; for we, 
 your hearers, would rather you should be less correct 
 than given to stammering, which I take to be one of 
 the worst solecisms in rhetoric. " 
 
 But, while Dr. Chapin had full command of the size 
 of his manuscript and could thus gratify his haljit of 
 persistence, there is one diversity in the aspect of his 
 written sermons over which he had no control. How- 
 ever it may have given pain to his eye, time wrought 
 its inevitable contrasts. Between the deep buff of his 
 earlier manuscripts, bathed for a generation in New 
 York smoke and dust, and the fresh whiteness of his 
 recent ones, there is a wide breach in color, and a couple 
 of fac-similes of this non-uniformity would be at least 
 amusing. In many instances the great preacher brought 
 about an amalgamation of the two colors, setting them 
 
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SERMONS AND LECTURES. 235 
 
 in the same manuscript, like the marrying of an octo- 
 roon and a blonde, or the blooming of a tea rose and a 
 white rose from the same stem. He often sewed an 
 ancient and modern manuscript together; in a few 
 instances three sermons of different ages were tangled 
 into one. He knew the art of clerical economy, and 
 eked out a new discourse by stealing from an old one, 
 or gave to an old one a modern finish, as an old house 
 is sometimes given a new story and a fresh style. His 
 more frequent transit, however, was from the white to 
 the yellow, as if in the treatment of his theme it came 
 over him that among his hundreds of manuscripts he 
 had one or more in which he had made the points he 
 now had in mind, and hastened to avail liunself of the 
 labor-saving suggestion. 
 
 His manuscripts reveal yet another stroke of econo- 
 my in toil to which he often resorted. From his writ- 
 ten themes he frequently extemporized at a later date, 
 and made his briefs or notes on the pages opposite 
 the written ones. Thus the same manuscript carries the 
 sermon in two forms, and has done a double service. 
 Here are the etching and the full painting ranged side 
 by side, but the moving pictures flashed on the vision 
 of the people must have been much the same. On 
 some of his sermons appear two or more dates, indica- 
 ting their repetition, and generally at not very wide inter- 
 vals apart, as if the themes were still haunting his soul 
 and appealing for a second or a third deliverance ; and 
 occasionally the word Repeated appears on the front 
 page. But it is a comfort to know that this hard- 
 worked minister was thus not wholly blind or averse to 
 some arts of easing his tasks. 
 
236 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 But the most remarkable feature of Dr, Chapin's 
 manuscripts is their uniform incompleteness. It is very- 
 doubtful if in sermon or lecture he has left a com- 
 pleted composition. In no habit was he more persist- 
 ent that in that of begmning to write with evident 
 care and fulness, and ending with illegible phrases and 
 words ; and it is easy to trace, as he advances, his lapse 
 into fragmentary paragraphs and periods and degener- 
 ated chirography. This tendency appears in the printed 
 fac-similes, which are an earlier and a later page of the 
 same discourse. In a few pages from the start his 
 manuscript shows signs of haste in his hand, and soon 
 becomes sketchy and unreadable ; but, as he wrote, 
 the real sermon rose and rushed toward an ideal 
 completeness. The worse the manuscript the better 
 the sermon. A compelled haste may now and then 
 have been responsible for this method of work ; but 
 it was no doubt mainly due to psychological con- 
 ditions, the laws and processes of his inner life. No 
 sooner would he get fairly to musing on his theme and 
 opening it out on paper than his mind would so kindle 
 and his impulses so acquire impetus that his pen was 
 utterly powerless to make record of his swift visions 
 and rapt feelings, and did little more than indicate by 
 meagre scrawls the grand unfolding of his discourse as 
 a mental and spiritual achievement. As a hurrying 
 traveller through a forest cannot delay to make a road, 
 but only blazes a tree here and there to keep him on 
 his path if ever he passes that way again, so Dr. Chapin, 
 swept forward by a whirlwind of tliought and feeling, 
 could not pause to write out with plainness and fulness 
 his sermons, but dashed on, only leaving such hasty 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 237 
 
 traces of his course as would enable liim in his pulpit 
 to find again the lofty path he had traversed in his 
 study. It may also have been in part a policy with 
 him to leave these unwritten gaps and conclusions, 
 since he knew his rare gift of off-hand speech, by w^hich 
 lie could fill the voids with thrilling clunaxes. Tor the 
 fullest deliverance of himself, and the best effects on 
 his hearers, he may have sought moments of entire 
 abandon to the rush of thought and feeling. He could 
 wisely trust his emotions to a spontaneous utterance, 
 since they were of that intensity and elevation that 
 hurled them into forms of beauty and power, as crystals 
 burst under great heat into charming shapes. 
 
 But passing to a deeper view of Dr. Chapin's sermons 
 we fail to find in them some traits for which those but 
 partially acquainted with his character would naturally 
 look. An exuberant wit, still are his sermons uni- 
 formly serious. A hearty lover of fun, having an eye 
 to detect puns in almost every combination of words, 
 freely seasoning his conversation with the spice of wit, 
 it was yet a rare occurrence in his preaching that he 
 drew a smile from his hearers. It would be difficult to 
 find a jest in his dozen or more volumes of published 
 discourses. They are cheerful but never witty ; full of 
 sunny thoughts and sentiments, but free from all face- 
 tiae. He now and then approached satire, but rarely 
 surrounded it with an air of levity, as did the witty 
 Sydney Smith. If his thrusts were sharp, they were 
 still more serious than humorous. It is not probable 
 that he had a theory on this matter to which he con- 
 formed his practice, but that liis gravity was the real 
 and free mood of his spirit. Intellectually he would 
 
238 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 agree witli Cowper, that "'tis pitiful to court a grin, 
 when you should woo a soul, to break a jest when 
 pity would inspire pathetic exhortation, and to address 
 the skittish fancy with facetious tales when sent with 
 God's commission to the heart;" but he would also 
 accord wisdom to the statement of Milton, that " even 
 this vein of laughing, as I could produce out of grave 
 authors, hath oft-times a strong and sinewy force in 
 teaching and confuting." It was no doubt due to his 
 temperament that he was kept thus from blending 
 gravity and levity. His native ardor bore him exclu- 
 sively into one mood or another, so that when devoted 
 to sacred things his wit was as if it were not ; and when, 
 on the other hand, he gave himself to frolic, it was with 
 an equally undivided surrender to the passing mood. 
 His current feeling was so marked and strong it pre- 
 cluded the intrusion of a counter-feelmg. He was too 
 intense to be versatile. 
 
 To this trait of his character we must also ascribe, 
 no doubt, the absence of literary allusions and quota- 
 tions from his sermons. A constant reader of the 
 choicest books, a student of the poets and dramatists, 
 versed in the legendary and folk-lore of many lands, an 
 eager reader of the best works on art, familiar with the 
 authors who treat of social and moral philosophy, and 
 conversant with all the Broad-church writers from Tauler 
 to Martineau, — a very devotee, in short, of high and 
 quotable literature, — still he rarely made a reference, and 
 more rarely a quotation, which indicated the range of his 
 reading. In his earlier years he was much more given 
 to reflecting .his wealth of literary treasures than later 
 in life. His first and last book reveal a marked con- 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 239 
 
 trast in this respect, not that the former is at all pedan- 
 tic, but that the latter is strangely exempt from all echoes 
 and glimpses of the great authors. Mainly as an uncon- 
 scious influence, a wisdom and beauty and energy as- 
 similated and made personal, does literature at length 
 reappear on his written and printed pages. No more 
 in name and phrase, or but rarely, do we find Homer 
 and Milton, Eaphael and Euskin, Fenelon and Chan- 
 ning, pressing into his composition ; but there can be no 
 doubt that, as the fragrance of the flowers fills the air 
 unseen, the fine spmt of these sons of genius pervades 
 his mspiied and glowing periods. It was not in vain 
 that he had communed with them , and perhaps we get 
 the more of them in spirit, as we get less in formal 
 allusion. It was said by the eloquent Dr. Alexander, 
 in his later ministry : " I am less and less in favor of 
 quotation in sermons. My tendency used to be very 
 much that way; but as my manner becomes warmer 
 and more practical, I let these brilliant patches alone." 
 So did Dr. Chapm sacrifice literary embellishment to his 
 fervor and hnpetus in the hour of composition or of 
 extemporaneous discourse. He rose above the frame of 
 mind which is discursive and can freely range the field 
 of literature, and pause to recall and set in form a 
 happy quotation or to consult and quote from the orig- 
 inal text. In his ardor he freely created the phraseology 
 which would best serve his purpose, and cared not to 
 look about for less glowing and graphic terms. A high 
 inspiration is self-sufficing, and hindered, rather than 
 helped, by any attempt to borrow assistance. 
 
 Nor do Chapin's sermons, in manuscript or in print, 
 disclose to the reader many of the looked-for passages 
 
240 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 by which he wrought overwhehnmg effects m delivery. 
 The majority of his climaxes may have been extempo- 
 raneous, outbursts from his soul in the moments of 
 its rapture ; but they were not all thus independent of 
 the written page. He often seized upon the periods his 
 pen had cast and rendered them startling to the hearer. 
 He would turn a paragraph into a battery by which he 
 would electrify and thrill his audience. Into a phrase 
 he would hurl a tempest of passion. But this he did 
 very much at his pleasure, or in response to the instan- 
 taneous concentration of the fire in his soul. Hence 
 his manuscripts were especially dependent on his mar- 
 vellous personality. It required his kindled heart and 
 magnetic voice to break their steady energy into a most 
 impressive diversity of effects. They were supple instru- 
 ments in his hands, and made to work wonders beyond 
 anything that the reader would suspect. While they 
 are full of beauty and strength which cannot be hidden 
 from the eye, he made them tenfold more grand and 
 impressive to the ear. 
 
 In like manner will the reader look in vain to Cha- 
 pin's sermons for references to himself. He rarely in- 
 dulged in a word of autobiography, but treated his 
 themes on the most impersonal grounds. In this he 
 may have been modest beyond what is wise ; for, while 
 there is a vanity in many a preacher which makes him 
 tedious in his garrulity about his own experiences and 
 deeds, there is a use to be made of personal history, of 
 inner and outer events, which, while imparting a human 
 interest, may serve to unfold and enforce divine truth. 
 A bit of autobiography is often a source of pleasure and 
 instruction, and to a biographer it is a desideratum ; but 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 241 
 
 Dr. Cliapin modestly avoided to speak of what was per- 
 sonal to himself. With a master's hand he painted the 
 portrait of his Saviour, but never sketched his own face 
 as a side picture. He shrunk from being an official 
 figure-head in the Church. " Men have," said he, " a 
 great deal of respect for the clergyman on account of 
 his office. I do not want any such officious respect. I 
 do not want any of that feeling for the parson as a sort 
 of embodiment of cold ecclesiastical formalities, — for 
 instance, that kind of respect for the clergyman that 
 will check a man from swearing in his presence ; ' Ah, 
 I beg pardon ; T see there is a minister present.' iSTever 
 beg my pardon for swearing ; if you don't care about 
 offending God, you need not trouble yourself about 
 offending me." As a star is lost in the effulgence of the 
 sun, so in his pulpit would he be lost m the greater light 
 of the Divinity, — lost to his own self -consciousness and 
 to the consciousness of his audience. He preached not 
 himself, but the Gospel. 
 
 The traits in Dr. Chapin's sermons which most com- 
 mend them are their broad and lofty themes, and the 
 sincere and poetic earnestness with which they are 
 treated. Xo man ever shared a keener or stronger sym- 
 pathy with human life, for in him life was abound- 
 ing riches, a charged and surcharged battery, a majestic 
 and swift tide, a thrilling pilgrimage, a stirring drama, 
 a grand warfare. That which is indifferent to the low 
 and sluggish nature was all-absorbing to his living soul. 
 In his more placid hours he might say with Emerson : 
 " Life is sweet as nitrous oxide ; " but he was oftener in 
 a mood of more intense delight, and could exclaim with 
 Schiller : " Oh God ! how lovely still is life ! " But a 
 
 16 
 
242 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 stronger adjective would better serve his frequent ex- 
 perience, and with the Persian Dabistan he could cry 
 out : " Oh Life ! thou art the Flame of flames ! " Open 
 to almost any page of his printed sermons and this fa- 
 vorite word will greet you, standing alone like the even- 
 ing star, or in groups Hke the shining clusters of the 
 later night. It is the theme of many of his sermons ; 
 and of his twenty-two courses of sermons which remain 
 in manuscript, in full or broken sets, the following gen- 
 eral titles are characteristic : Discourses on Life, 
 Elements of Modern Life, Conditions of Personal and 
 Social Life, Phases of Life, Pieligion in Every-day Life, 
 Spheres of Life and Conduct, Spheres of Life and Duty, 
 Life Lessons from the Book of Proverbs ; and to these 
 may be added the title of one of his published volumes, 
 — Moral Aspects of City Life. The little word was so 
 great with meaning as he shaped it out of his experi- 
 ence that it fairly haunted him, and he returned again 
 and again to the theme. He was so much a man of the 
 heart and the imagination that he cared not to contem- 
 plate principles and sentiments in the abstract, but 
 grew enthusiastic over them as they took the forms of 
 life and experience. Hence his love of history, legend, 
 folk-lore, and anecdote. It was when the universal be- 
 came personal and passed into living aspects, taking to 
 itself love, hope, virtue, heroism, filling public and pri- 
 vate spheres, toiling and striving, traversing the arenas 
 of tragedy, comedy, romance, saintship, that his interest 
 was enlisted and his genius fired with passion to 
 paint the scenes and aid the actors in the midst of 
 them. " The crowd in the city," said he, " affords 
 comparatively little interest, when we contemplate it 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 243 
 
 merely as a crowd. But when we resolve it into its in- 
 dividual particles, and consider each of these as endued 
 with the attributes and involved in the conditions of 
 humanity, our deepest sympathies are touched. Every 
 drop of that great stream is a conscious personality. In 
 some shape the Universe is reflected in it. In some 
 way it takes hold of the reality of life ; and the living 
 organism of which it is composed both acts and suffers, 
 receives from the world around it and contributes to 
 it." Thus in personality, and the play of the invisible 
 principles of the universe in daily deeds and feelings, he 
 found a favorite topic of discourse. 
 
 And it was for this reason that Christ was so often 
 the theme of his preaching. In him he saw religion 
 taken out of its abstract form, and brought home to the 
 heart and set before the imagination. He felt it a 
 privilege to turn from the creeds, so cold and barren, and 
 fix his gaze on a living Christianity in the Son of God. 
 He shared a devotion to his Master that any Saint of 
 the Eomish Church might have envied. To him he 
 gave his love; him he glorified with his reverent and 
 poetic genius ; and to him he most desired to lead his 
 fellow-beings, that like Mary they might sit at his feet 
 and be helped. In a sermon of his early life, preached 
 at the ordination of Eev. C. H. Fay, he defined the 
 office- of the pulpit m the following words : — 
 
 It should exhibit Christ to the world. Not the Christian- 
 ity of the Church, not the Christianity of the Creed, — but 
 Christ as he hved, Christ as he taught, Christ as he appeared 
 in all his moral power and loveHness, apart from the systems 
 and tenets of men, Christ as he spoke at Olivet, Christ as 
 he prayed in Gethsemane, Christ as he wept at the grave of 
 
244 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 LazaruS; Christ as he died upon the cross, Christ as he 
 arose from the sepulchre. Here is enough to move the heart, 
 to start the penitential tear, to call forth from the welling 
 fountains of the spirit gushings of love and tenderness. Oh ! 
 there is a boundless theme opened for the preacher in the 
 character of Jesus. Here are topics for his discourses, ex- 
 amples for his imitation, and the noblest motives that can be 
 brought to bear upon the universal mind. 
 
 To this early conception of the office of the Christian 
 pulpit he remained steadfast to the end of his days ; for 
 it was a conception alilvc congenial to the native bias of 
 his heart and imagination, which demanded that the 
 universal should become personal,— and kindling to 
 his gifts of eloquence, by its appeals to love, grati- 
 tude, veneration, and a soldierly devotion to a great and 
 worthy leader. 
 
 Of God and man, duty and destiny, law and compen- 
 sation, he often treated in his sermons ; but always 
 strove to set tliese themes in concrete and living forms. 
 He brought them on the arena of life, and invested 
 them with a human interest. He treated them picto- 
 rially and graphically, as a great artist or poet bodies 
 forth the unseen. 
 
 His references to nature are as poetic and reverent as 
 they are frequent. He approached it as if it were a 
 shrine, and his soul gladly confessed its deeper signifi- 
 cance, the light within the light, the beauty which is 
 the soul of the beautiful, the love that glows in all its 
 forms and outgoings. 
 
 " It is a great thing," said he, " to see the spiritual truth 
 that all nature symbolizes. Take that familiar and grand fact 
 I saw on the verge of Niagara. There were the crystal battle- 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 245 
 
 ments ; there was the raiubow round about the throne ; there, 
 ascending and descending, were outlines of spirit-forms, Avith 
 their sweeping, glorious garments of white ; there, in perpet- 
 ual acclamation, with the voice of many waters and with the 
 voice of mighty thunderings, went up the ascription, ' Allelu- 
 jah ! for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ! ' " 
 
 As an expression of a more quiet sympathy with 
 nature, a conscious rest of the soul under her mystic 
 sway, a silent reading of her far-off tokens of love, a 
 drawing of hope and trust from her calm immensities, 
 the quotation given below can but soothe and bless the 
 reader : — 
 
 In calm, fine nights of the latter summer, when the woods 
 are clothed Avith the luxuriance of maturity and the corn 
 stands fully ripe, — in the clear midnight, when all else is 
 still, — there comes a manifestation as of the conscious earth 
 communing with the conscious universe. There rises a low, 
 deep murmur of the sea upon its shores, and the leaves shiver 
 with a sudden ecstasy, and a light of answering gladness rip- 
 ples along the firmament and sparkles to the edge of the 
 remotest constellations. It is as if nature herself knew the 
 counsel that embosoms all things, and for a moment confessed 
 the glorious purpose. This may be fancy, but surely it sym- 
 bolizes a consoling fact. As in space, so in the immensity of 
 God's plan and among the ministering infiuences of his Prov- 
 idence, our world is carried onward, — with the graves of the 
 saints and the martyrs on her breast, and the crescent good 
 slowly spreading over her ; and the seeds of truth and right- 
 eousness, planted with great pains and buried often in seem- 
 ing defeat, are swelling with life and bursting into victory. 
 
 As it was said of Mrs. Siddons that she was tragic in 
 all things, — even stabbing the potato she took from the 
 
246 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 dish to her plate, and asking for her fan with a his- 
 trionic air, — so it may be said of Chapin's genius : pre- 
 eminently spiritual and moral, it never began to act but 
 it fell into the making of a sermon. His earliest poems 
 were sermons. His speeches in the Van Buren cam- 
 paign, when he was a law-student, could not have been 
 anything but sermons. The many speeches he made 
 during the years of his popularity as a speaker, how^ever 
 they may have started off amid an effervescence of wit, 
 directly passed into a serious temper and treated some 
 grave problem of life ; and usually the division between 
 the sport, which was for an instant, and the ardent 
 preaching which followed, was as marked as that be- 
 tween the glittering froth and the deep-hued wine below 
 it, or between the gay crest of some oriental bird and 
 the sober plumage which covers its body. His editori- 
 als, with rare exceptions, were sermonical in theme and 
 spirit, and the great majority of them had been preached 
 in his pulpit as parts of his sermons. His lectures, what- 
 ever their titles may have been, and their drapery of 
 history and reference to current events and anecdote, 
 were essentially sermons. On the platform he was the 
 preacher still, seeking to enlighten and inspire souls by 
 a discussion of moral truths and principles. Every one 
 of his sixteen published works was first preached in his 
 pulpit. Even as a necessity is laid upon the acorn, in 
 case it passes into germ and shrub and tree, to become 
 an oak, so he seemed compelled by some deeper ,sway of 
 his genius to bear every topic into a higher than tem- 
 poral light, and to discuss it with reference to " building 
 and being." On this ground Mr. Emerson, who says 
 that " necessity does everytlimg well," would account 
 
SERMONS AND LECTUEES. 247 
 
 for their power as sermons. "A fortunate necessity is 
 superior to art," says ^schylus ; and no one can doubt 
 the good fortune of Dr. Chapin as a preacher, in this com- 
 manding proneness to think and feel in the direction of 
 the true, the beautiful, and the good, and to plead ever 
 for more saintly living. 
 
 A list of his published volumes will be read with 
 interest as an index of his character and work. It 
 bespeaks the practical mind, as well as the devotional 
 heart. If the creed is absent from it, the spirit and 
 worth of religion as a presence in daily life are made 
 manifest. 
 
 Duties of Young Men, exhibited in Six Lectures ; with an 
 Anniversary Address, delivered before the Eichmond Lyceum, 
 184:0. Abel Tompkins, Boston, publisher. 
 
 Discourses on Various Subjects, 1841. Abel Tomkpins, 
 publisher. 
 
 The Philosophy of Eeform ; a Lecture delivered before the 
 Berean Institute, in the Broadway Tabernacle, New York, 
 January 20, 1843 ; with Four Discourses upon the same gen- 
 eral topic, delivered in New York and Brooklyn, 1843. C. 
 L. Stickney, New York, publisher. 
 
 Hours of Communion, 1844. Abel Tompkins, publisher. 
 
 The Crown of Thorns, a Token for the Sorrowing, 1847. 
 Abel Tompkins, publisher. 
 
 Duties of Young Women, 1848. Geo. W. Briggs, Boston, 
 pubhsber. 
 
 Discourses on the Lord's Prayer, 1850, Abel Tompkins, 
 publisher. 
 
 Characters in the Gospels, illustrating phases of character at 
 the present day, 1852. J. S. Eedfield, New York, publisher. 
 
 Moral Aspects of City Life, 1853. Henry Lyon, New 
 York, publisher. 
 
248 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Humanity in the City, 1854. De Witt & Davenport, 
 New York, publishers, 
 
 Christianity the Perfection of True Manliness, ISS-l. 
 Henry Lyon, publisher. 
 
 Select Sermons, 1859- Henry Lyon, publisher. 
 
 Discourses on the Beatitudes, 1853. Abel Tompkins, 
 publisher. 
 
 Extemporaneous Discourses, 1860. 0. Hutchinson, New 
 York, publisher. 
 
 Lessons of Faith and Life, 1877. James Miller, New 
 York, publisher. 
 
 Church of the Living God, 1881. James Miller, pub- 
 lisher. 
 
 "Select Sermons" was republished in 1869, by 
 Williamson & Cantwell, of Cincinnati, with the title, 
 " Providence and Life." This issue has a brief but appre- 
 ciative biographical introduction by Kev. A. D. Mayo. 
 " Extemporaneous Discourses " was republished in 
 1881, a few months after the author's death, by 
 James Miller of New York, with the title, "God's 
 Eequirements, and other Sermons." 
 
 In 1846 "The Fountain, a Temperance Gift" was 
 edited by Rev. John G. Adams and Rev. E. H. Cha- 
 pin, and published by George W. Briggs of Boston. 
 Three of the articles in this volume were from the pen 
 of Mr. Chapin The Temperance Movement, An Appeal 
 to the Influential Classes, and the Young Drunkard, 
 In the preface the editors jointly "invoke Heaven's 
 blessings on our Fountain. May its \vnng waters 
 gush out and flow forth in gladness to many a soul" 
 During the same year these genial coworkers compiled, 
 and Abel Tompkins published, Hymns for Christian 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 249 
 
 Devotion, especially adapted to the Universalist Denom- 
 ination. This hymn book was compiled with true spir- 
 itual and poetical insight, and is found in many of the 
 churches of the order at the present time. 
 
 In 1860 Eev. Orren Perkins collected many of the 
 gems from Chapin's printed works, and these were pub- 
 lished in a large and handsome volume by Abel Tomp- 
 kins, under the general headmg, ''Living Words." On 
 the titlepage Mr. Perkins set the ambitious motto : — 
 
 "Jewels five words long, 
 That on the stretched forefinger of all time 
 Sparkle forever ; " 
 
 while Ptev. Thomas Starr King, in an introductory letter 
 sent from San Francisco, ventured to claim much in 
 behalf of Chapin's gift of condensing broad areas of 
 light into brilliant flashes. A paragraph from his letter 
 will be read with interest : — 
 
 Each new volume by Dr. Chapin has borne testimony to 
 advancing and ripening power. This one, doubtless, will 
 show, more potently than any other which the public has seen, 
 the breadth and vigor of the intellectual gifts which lie has 
 so faithfully dedicated. Books of this character are pecu- 
 liarly adapted to our American hurry and impatience of elab- 
 orate and artistic address. Very often the best thing in a 
 sermon or speech — the only original paragraph or passage — 
 is an illustration or an aphorism, or a sudden gleam of imag- 
 ination which condenses the meaning of the discourse, or sets 
 an old truth at an angle where it glows like a gem. "Whoever 
 masters this one passage holds the value of the whole effort. 
 The richest minds of the pulpit are those which sprinkle their 
 pages most freely with these seed-thoughts, or from whose 
 extempore utterance can be caught the most of the sentences 
 
250 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 which are lenses for the rays of Christian truth. Diffuseness 
 is especially the vice of pulpit speech. The formula which 
 Carlyle stated as to books is peculiarly true of sermons: 
 " Given a cubic inch of respectable Castile soap, to lather it 
 up in water so as to fill one puncheon, Avine-measure." Vol- 
 umes like Mr Beecher's "Life Thoughts" save for us the solid 
 matter, and give us what is vital in the preacher, disengaged 
 from what is mechanical. There are comparatively few who 
 can bear this test of husking off the accessories, and selecting 
 only the original germ -passages which are quickened by the 
 preacher's own insight and experience. The poverty of many 
 a fair looking discourse is patent when this process is tried 
 upon it. The volume of selections from Dr. Chapin's ser- 
 muns and writings will show, I am sure, that his mind is one 
 of the richest, as well as that his heart is one of the most fer- 
 vent and simplest, that is now in communion, as a preacher, 
 with our American life. 
 
 Before the lyceums of tlie country Dr. Chapin gave 
 the following lectures : — Orders of Nobility ; Social 
 Forces; Modern Chivalry ; Building and Being; The Old 
 and the New ; The Eoll of Honor ; Man and his Work ; 
 Woman and her Work ; The People ; The Age of Iron ; 
 Europe and America ; John Hampden, or the Progress 
 of Popular Liberty ; Columbus ; Franklin. 
 
 In these lectures there is more of the head and less 
 of the heart than in his sermons, and for this reason 
 they were less favorable to an overwhelming eloquence. 
 In them his genius did not come into its freest and full- 
 est play, since there is less of the divine in them at 
 which he so readily kindled. They surpass his sermons 
 in rhetoric, but fall below them in feeling. They are 
 more studied and less inspired, more didactic and less 
 poetic, more logical and less lyrical, more fitted to 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 251 
 
 awaken admiration and less to subdue the soul to won- 
 der and awe, and sweep it into a holy rapture. Their 
 scenery is less mountainous and romantic, and their at- 
 mosphere not so morning-like and refreshing. They are 
 more removed from the high region of First Causes and 
 the arenas on which the heavenly lights descend, and 
 hence were not so likely to engage the oratorical powers 
 of the speaker, which were mainly tenants of his soul. 
 At a long range their arguments suggest the forum and 
 their dramatic passages the stage, while the pulpit, 
 which was Chapin's real throne, is not made to appear 
 in fullest view. Only as the musical theme plays 
 through the variation does the sermon linger and bear 
 rule in the lecture ; and by as much as it fails to be the 
 sole geuius of the composition, by so much are the fer- 
 vor and sway of the orator diminished; and yet for 
 twenty-five years he was an acknowledged prince on the 
 lyceum platform. 
 
 The lecture on the Orders of Nobility is one of his 
 earliest and best, and seems to have been a favorite with 
 its author as well as the public. It remains in two 
 well-worn manuscripts. To secure a bolder and plainer 
 handwriting all of his lectures are copied mto blank- 
 books of letter-paper size, and for durability they are 
 bound in flexible leather covers. The more used lectures 
 are in duplicates of this form, the one worn and soiled, 
 the other fresher and brighter ; and the dates of re-writ- 
 ing indicate that he usually made this a vacation task. 
 On the older copy of Orders of ISTobility is the record of 
 ninety places in which he delivered it ; and in the later 
 copy, which is a revision and improvement, he made 
 note of two hundred and forty-seven deliveries. The 
 
252 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 prices which this lecture brought range from twenty- 
 five to two hundred and fifty dollars. When some one 
 asked him what he lectured for, he replied : " For f-a- 
 m-e, fifty and my expenses." . But this was in the 
 long-ago, when lecturing was a more serious but less 
 paying service than it has been in more recent years. 
 If we take, however, the low figures indicated by the 
 witticism of the author, as the average price for each 
 delivery, we shall find the income from this lecture 
 reaching the liberal sum of sixteen thousand eight hun- 
 dred and fifty dollars. It is probable that twenty thous- 
 and dollars would be a closer estimate. But this 
 was only one of several lecture mines from which 
 he quarried. Modern Chivalry must have been de- 
 livered nearly as many times. His most worn man- 
 uscript contains this lecture, but in it is no record of 
 places or prices. It is probable, however, that it must 
 have served on nearly three hundred platforms. A 
 later copy gives information of seventy deliveries. Even 
 his much, more recent lecture, on Building and Being, 
 was given one hundred and thirty times, and in one 
 season, 1874-5, it brought him the handsome reward of 
 three thousand and thirty dollars. His John' Hamp- 
 den appears with three titles — "John Hampden and 
 his Times," " John Hampden and his Times, or the Pro- 
 gress of Popular Liberty," "John Hampden, or the 
 Progress of Popular Liberty " — and in five manuscripts, 
 which do not indicate any great degree of service. On 
 one is the record of thirty-two deliveries, with prices 
 ranging from one hundred to one hundred and twenty- 
 five dollars. 
 
 But while Dr. Chapin thus turned genius and toil 
 
SERMONS AND LECTURES. 253 
 
 into money, a fair and legitimate exchange, he carried a 
 great blessing to the public through his lectures. He 
 gave better than he received. In thought his messages 
 from the platforms were progressive, in spirit they were 
 chaste and noble, in rhetoric they were surpassingly bril- 
 liant, and in the eloquence of their delivery they were the 
 sources of an enthusiastic delight. In some degree they 
 were witty and satirical, and sent ripples and waves of 
 laughter through his audiences ; but in the mam they 
 were glowing discussions of great and useful themes, 
 and made the world better and happier. 
 
XV. 
 
 HIS UNIVERSALISM. 
 
 A Schoolmate of Dr. Chapin, the Eev. J. A. White, 
 D. D., of Michigan, in a letter to the " New York 
 Evangelist," written soon after the death of the elo- 
 quent preacher, said : — 
 
 The remarkable thing about Chapin is his getting into a 
 Universalist pulpit, for his education Avas after a strictly Or- 
 thodox pattern But he carried to that pulpit a 
 
 goodly youthful training and a knowledge of the Scriptures. 
 And though I have not heard him preach, I have many times 
 heard from his preaching ; for people at the West who visit 
 New York, are apt to hear celebrated preachers of any de- 
 nomination. The testimony of such was, when they heard 
 him, that " there was nothing in his sermons of Universalism, 
 or that in any Avay marked his denominational connection." 
 I have heard, too, that this has been a subject of complaint 
 with Universalists. 
 
 Wliile the sense of his loss was fresh in the public 
 heart, Mr. Beecher said in the " Christian Union :" — 
 
 Probably a stranger might have attended his ministry for 
 many successive Sundays, and surmised his denominational 
 relations only by his uniformly tender and sympathetic por- 
 traitures of God. 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 255 
 
 The editor of "Harper's Weekly," near the same 
 date, wrote : — 
 
 Chapin was the reverse of dogmatic in his spirit, and he 
 seldom referred to the distinctive doctrines of Universalism. 
 Only once did the writer of this notice liear such a reference ; 
 at the funeral of Horace Greeley he spoke briefly but point- 
 edly of Mr. Greeley's firm adherence to the faith of the 
 Universalist Church. 
 
 In terms similar to the above has Chapin often been 
 referred to by editor and correspondent, and in private 
 conversation ; and not seldom has a statement been 
 pressed, through ignorance or a questionable motive, to 
 the extent of a denial of his faith in the final salvation 
 of all souls. But to all who may give to this chapter a 
 careful reading, it will be evident that such a statement 
 rests either on a partial view of facts, or on a wish 
 which is " father of the thought." That both of these 
 errors should have transpired has been quite natural. 
 On the one hand, his Universalism, having been re- 
 vealed more in the spirit of his preaching than verbally, 
 might easily be missed by such as heard him only to a 
 limited extent, and were watching for an open assault 
 on Calvinism and the eternity of punishment, and 
 trimming their ears to hear a formal declaration of the 
 creed of universal redemption ; and on the other hand, 
 it has been exceedingly human and pleasant on the part 
 of those not of the Universalist sect, to claim one so 
 full of piety and so popular, as being of their per- 
 suasion. 
 
 From the start, as a youthful editor in Utica, to the 
 end of his ministry, he maintained a uniform habit of 
 makmg but an occasional statement of his faith in the 
 
256 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 final triumph of good over all evil. It is probable this 
 wcs never the main point of any sermon he wrote or 
 preached. It was never his uppermost thought. Not 
 in the form of a proposition to defend, but rather as an 
 inference from premises already defended, did it come 
 into his discourses. It was the veiled statue always 
 standing at his side in the pulpit, whose drapery he 
 lifted now and then, as with an impromptu but ardent 
 hand, — and none could mistake the figure. The 
 graphic form was distinctive Universalism. Its identity 
 with that which stood constantly derobed by the side 
 of a Ballou and a Streeter is unmistakable. 
 
 Whoever chanced to make one of Chapin's audience 
 when he thus unveiled the statue needsd no voice to 
 tell him he was in a Universalist church. We may 
 listen to a single witness, as the representative of many. 
 A member of the English Parliament, William Edward 
 Baxter, came to visit our country, and on his return 
 wrote a book entitled : " America and the Americans," 
 in which, among other eminent clergymen, he speaks of 
 Chapin. He thus reports his sermon : — 
 
 He preached from Lnke, 19th chapter, 41st verse, — Jesus 
 weeping over Jerusalem. It was in some respects the great- 
 est rhetorical effort at which it has been my good fortune to 
 be present, either on this or the other side of the ocean. For 
 brilliancy of description and splendor of imagery I do not 
 think it could well be excelled. I can almost fancy that I 
 hear him yet apostrophizing the Holy City, as looking down 
 from Olivet he pointed out its temple and palaces, and re- 
 called the associations connected with it in the minds of both 
 Jew and Gentile, the Christian and the Mussulman, the 
 American who dwells in a new country far away over the sea, 
 
HIS UNIVERSAUSM. 257 
 
 and the Arab who feeds his camels by the vuins of Tadmor 
 in the wilderness. I thought of the well-known passage in 
 " Tancred," descriptive of Jerusalem by moonlight ; but Cha- 
 pin attempted and succeeded in a higher flight than was ven- 
 tured on by the genius of Disraeli. The speaker proceeded 
 to say that his text illustrated, in the first place, " the intense 
 humanity of the Saviour," under which head he declared that 
 the majority of Christians at the present day remove him 
 from their sympathies in a vain attempt to do him honor. 
 This part of .his discourse was distinguished for its touching 
 and stirring appeals and its undisguised Socinianism. In 
 the second place he remarked, the text showed " the philati- 
 thropy of Christ," of whom he spoke as a manifestation of 
 the Divine love. Then followed a wonderfully eloquent 
 peroration on the love of God to men, which he declared was 
 the one and the only moral influence fitted to regenerate the 
 world ; and he called upon the congregation to look forward 
 to that happy time when the influence of God's love shall be 
 felt by all who need it, and when universal humanity shall 
 respond " Hosanna in the highest." 
 
 In a discourse written and preached during his min- 
 istry in Eichmond, entitled — " Universalisni : What it 
 Is, and What it is Not," and which is now one of the 
 most popular of the tracts issued by the Universalists, 
 he made the following point: — 
 
 In regard to the extent and duration of punishment, there 
 is a diff"erence of opinion among us, as there is on other points 
 among other sects, who yet maintain the same general views. 
 Some hold that sin and its consequences extend not beyond 
 the resurrection state ; others, that the effects of sin, at least, 
 are felt in another existence, and that, therefore, misery is 
 produced to those upon whom they operate. The last is the 
 opinion of your speaker. But it is sufficient for the present 
 
 17 
 
258 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 occasion to say that all Universalists believe in complete pun- 
 ishment for sin, and therefore Universalism is not a doctrine 
 which, teaches that men may do evil with impunity ; but it is 
 fl doctrine which teaches that all mankind will finally be 
 saved from sin and consequent misery. This is an important 
 point in our discussion, for it is a position of which our oppo- 
 nents seem not generally aware. Be it remembered that we 
 do not enter the arena of discussion to argue against punish- 
 ment — future punishment — but against the endless duration 
 of sin and misery. We do not believe that evil is ultimate 
 in the government of God. We believe there will be a period 
 when the last enemy shall be destroyed, — when man shall 
 bow in moral subjection to his Maker, and worship him in 
 the beauty of holiness. 
 
 In a sermon on "The Heavenly State," he substan- 
 tially repeats the doctruie set forth by the previous 
 selection. 
 
 I am willing to say, and deem it proper that I should, 
 that I do not hold that death destroys the effects of sin. 
 The argument from identity that I have employed above, it 
 seems to me, naturally leads to this conclusion. If we look 
 upon the soul as the seat of thought and motion, I can con- 
 ceive that, even tabernacled in a body that is not liable to 
 physical death, the soul can suffer the consequences of its 
 guilt. It seems to me that in the future life there may be a 
 distinction of good and bad. I have not, then, been stating 
 the glories of heaven as the immediate possession of all at the 
 end of this life. I have represented it as the true Christian's 
 home, to which, in every storm and every peril, he may look 
 with faith's clear vision, and be comforted and strengthened. 
 But were I to pause here, I should lay myself open to mis- 
 understanding on the other hand. It is at the position of 
 endless punishment that I halt. Between endless and limited 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 259 
 
 retribution in the future world there is an infinite difference. 
 The arguments which support the one cannot be pressed into 
 the service of the other. I would ask, then, those who hold 
 the doctrine of endless punishment : Can you reconcile it 
 with your best ideas of heaven and immortality 1 
 
 A firm disciple of the doctrine of free-will, and of the 
 fact that God will never subject the will to compulsory 
 pressure, he still felt no misgiving, as do the Uncertain- 
 arians, as to the issue of that freedom under the moral 
 government of God. In full accord with its personal 
 liberty, he felt that every soul will at length be saved 
 and join in the great song of redemption. In the eter- 
 nal perversity of the finite will against infinite wisdom 
 and love, which is the ground on which eternal punish- 
 ment is now predicated, he no more believed than he 
 believed in the power of man's puny arm to resist the 
 sweep of Niagara. In the day of Divine power the 
 soul, he felt, will be a willing captive. On the vast 
 arena of moral conflict and discipline, — with God and the 
 angels and all loving and holy powers on the one side, 
 and the sinner on tliQ other, he foresaw, as in a vision 
 of implicit faith, the banner of a universal victory raised 
 at last on the divine side. 
 
 " Believing as I do," he observes in his sermon on " The 
 Joy of the Angels," "that the upshot and result must be final 
 good for all, I cannot hold to that upshot of final good as 
 coming by any desecration of man's personality. If I could 
 believe that, with all these influences brought to bear upon 
 him, — the greater loves of the nobler spheres, — man could 
 still hold on to perverse, selfish sin, then I could believe in 
 endless sin. I believe God poised man upon free action, and 
 that all the good that comes to him must come, not from 
 
260 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 external pressure, but from his own choice, influenced, 
 perhaps, by that j^ressure. Therefore I say there is no 
 barrier on the side of Heaven. Here stands man, untouched 
 in his freedom and personaHty, moving onward to a wise 
 and holy result, in perfect consistency with that freedom 
 and personality." 
 
 In God he saw a wise and beneficent Creator, and a 
 Euler equal to all the demands of the universe, and 
 hence he declared : "I cannot think that evil is ulti- 
 mate in the designs of God, or that his designs will 
 not be accomplished." In these words we have an echo 
 of Dr. Johnson's celebrated statement: "We know 
 that God is infinite in wisdom, in power, and in good- 
 ness ; that therefore he designs the happiness of all his 
 creatures ; that he cannot but know the proper means 
 by which this end may be obtained ; and that, in the 
 use of those means, as he cannot be mistaken, because 
 he is omniscient, so he cannot be defeated, because he is 
 almighty." Dr. Chapin, like Dr. Johnson, believed in 
 the undisputed supremacy of the divine sceptre, when 
 the great battle shall be fought to its end. The contest 
 is an unequal one and the victory assured. Already 
 the tendency of the strife indicates its issue. Good 
 slowly gains upon evil ; errors have fallen on many a 
 field m the great conflict with truth ; cruelty has felt 
 the sway of love ; and the kingdom of darkness recedes 
 from the kingdom of light. With the process of the 
 suns, measured by a wide sweep, we may see the ripen- 
 ing of the divine purpose, and hope flies on from the 
 pages of history to read the final account of a triumphant 
 God. " Limited as is our sight," observes Dr. Chapin 
 in a sermon on Humility and Hope, " seeing through 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 261 
 
 a glass darkly, still we see enough of the working of 
 this stupendous mechanism of things to look for the 
 victory of Goodness over all forms of evil — for uni- 
 versal light and peace." 
 
 As a child confides in its father and mother, so he 
 trusted in Providence, and his heart was steadily 
 cheered. To him the "bow in the cloud" was no un- 
 meaning symbol, but on it he read the prophecy of the 
 rolling away of all the darkness and storm of the uni- 
 verse, and the coming of the clear and peaceful day. 
 Under God all will be well in the end. " Every atom 
 of that dishevelled water [at Niagara] is held in the 
 curve of nature," said he, " and descends by law, and 
 combines and sweeps onward to the broad lake. So 
 with human events : they are governed ; they accom- 
 plish a majestic course ; and over theii' maddest plung- 
 ing, their most terrible anarchy, there arches the 
 superintending Providence." Hence the passages in the 
 Psalms and the New Testament which breathe the 
 spirit of a boundless trust were the ones he of tenest read. 
 His favorite hymns were those that were full of confi- 
 dence and love in the direction of the Everlasting 
 Father. In Bryant's over-watched " Water Fowl," he 
 saw the symbol of himself, and quoted to his own heart 
 the closing stanza : — • 
 
 " He wlio, from zone to zone, 
 Guides through the boundless sty thy certain flight, 
 In the long way that I must tread alone, 
 "Will lead my steps aright." 
 
 But the love he saw around his own path, hedging all 
 fatal digressions, persuading to the goal of all good, he 
 saw bending over every child of the Infinite Father, and 
 
262 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 bringing it at last out of the Wilderness into tlie Land 
 of Promise. Discoursing of Humanity in the City, 
 he said : — 
 
 All the belts of civilization intersect along its avenues. It 
 contains the product of every moral zone. It is cosmopolitan, 
 not only in its national, but in its spiritual sense. Here you 
 may find not only the finest Saxon culture, but the grossest 
 barbaric degradation. There you pass a form of Caucasian 
 development, — the fine-cut features, the imperial forehead, the 
 intelligent eye, the confident tread, the true port and stature 
 of a man. But who is this that follows in his track, under 
 the same national sky, surrounded by the same institutions, — 
 that stunted form, that villanous look. Is it Papuan, Bush- 
 man, or Carib 1 . . . There sits the beggar, sick and pinched 
 with cold ; and there goes a man of no better flesh and blood, 
 and no more authentic charter of soul, wrapped in comfort, 
 and actually bloated with luxury. There issues the whine of 
 distress, beside the glittering carriage-wheels. There, amidst 
 the rush of gayety, the selfish, busy whirl, half-naked, shiver- 
 ing, with her bare feet on the icy pavement, stands the little 
 girl, with the shadow of an experience on her that has made her 
 preternaturally old, and, it may be, driven the angel from her 
 face. Still, we cannot believe that above that wintry heaven 
 which stretches over her, there is less regard for the poor, 
 neglected child than for that rosy belt of infant happiness 
 which girdles and gladdens ten thousand hearths. And here, 
 too, through the brilliant street and the broad light of day, 
 walks purity enshrined in the loveliest form of womanhood. 
 And along that same street by night, attended by fitting shad- 
 ows, strolls womanhood discrowned, clothed with painted 
 shame, — yet, even in the springs of that guilty heart not 
 wholly quenched. 
 
 But as over himself, as over the whitest saint that 
 has ever graced our planet, so over all this confused 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 263 
 
 mass of human life, he saw the bending arch of a Di- 
 vine Providence, and read on it the promise of universal 
 salvation. Not as Dante saw the many groups of sin- 
 ners passing into the world of doom through a gateway 
 over which was written : " Whoso enters here, let him 
 leave hope behind," did Dr. Chapin see any souls mov- 
 ing in hopeless paths. "The Infinite Fatherhood encir- 
 cles all," said he ; and m the face of the seeming chaos 
 through which humanity is groping on its way, he 
 quoted the trustful stanzas of the poet : — 
 
 " Eacli, where his tasks or pleasures roll, 
 They pass, and heed each other not. 
 There is, who heeds, who holds them all, 
 In His large love and boundless thought. 
 >, 
 These struggling tides of life, that seem 
 
 In wayward, aimless course to tend, 
 Ai'e eddies of the mighty stream 
 That rolls to its appointed end. " 
 
 In his reading of Scripture, Dr. Chapin drew his Uni- 
 versalism more from the spirit than from the letter of 
 the Sacred Book. "By a single text," said he, "you 
 may prove transubstantiation ; you may prove the trin- 
 ity or the unity, or total depravity. Taking simply the 
 textual letter alone, you may prove eternal damnation 
 or universal salvation ; you may prove anythmg by a 
 single text." Approached in this superficial manner, 
 with an eye to verbal forms merely, the Bible, he felt, is 
 a book " where each his dogma seeks, and each his dog- 
 ma finds ; " but he who reads it with a broader view is 
 the one who will read it aright. And in his sermon last 
 quoted from he tells us how one of these narrow inter- 
 preters, blind to the broad and loving and soul-seeking 
 spirit of the New Testament, — 
 
264 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Sees the phrase " everlasting puuishment," and without re- 
 gard to the great fact that the Avord eternal is to be inter- 
 preted by the subject with which it is connected (if it is the 
 "eternal hills," they cannot be as enduring as the "eternal 
 God," if it is the " eternal priesthood of Aaron," it cannot 
 mean as much as the "eternal kingdom of Christ"), he takes 
 a text, alone, by itself, and crowds it to its extreme literal 
 meaning, and upon that builds the dark, crushing, and terri- 
 ble dogma of eternal damnation. For that stands simply 
 upon the strict interpretation of Avords ; the human heart re- 
 jects it, the human reason rejects it ; but the sharp textualist 
 thrusts forward the phrase " everlasting punishment," and 
 upon that builds his dogma. 
 
 When some one asked Chapin if he thought Univer- 
 salism was running down, he replied: "Yes, I think it 
 is running doivrt and out into every sect in Christendom ; " 
 and, as one sees with delight the dark cloud receding 
 from the shining of the sun, so with pleasure did he 
 witness the yielding of the old faiths, created in a 
 sterner era, to this version of Christianity, which is at 
 once old and new. " The modern doctrine of endless 
 punishment, set forth by Joseph Cook," he exultantly 
 remarked, "resembles the old as the domestic cat resem- 
 bles the Bengal tiger." Addressing the graduating class 
 of Tufts Divinity School, on the 9th of June, 1878, he 
 referred more at length, but with no less evident satis- 
 faction, to the drift of theological thought away from 
 the Calvinistic standard, toward the creed of universal 
 redemption, with which, as it will be seen, he variously 
 identified his own conviction. In his language to these 
 young men, candidates for the Universalist ministry, we 
 find at once a note of triumph and a confession of denom- 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 265 
 
 inational relations. The passage is indeed significant, as 
 standing among his final words to the public, and given 
 on an occasion which rendered them conspicuous: — 
 
 Although as UuiversaKsts we have made no change of lati- 
 tude, there is decidedly a change of climate, and we may be in 
 danger of being too popular. I need not dilate upon the ex- 
 traordinary transformation that has passed over the theolog- 
 ical world. With a few verbal qualifications, thinking men 
 in all the sects have come to the conclusion that while there 
 may possibly be an endless something that is evil, it is not 
 endless misery. At least, the entire substance and sting of 
 the doctrine of endless punishment have been extracted and 
 cast aside. The bars have been loosened and the coals have 
 dropped out. Nothing is left but a mere formal grating of 
 abstract propositions. We have been lifted from the blaze of 
 vindictive fire into the thin ether of metaphysics, and left to 
 vindicate our faith in view of some inconceivable perversity 
 of the human will. And let us not neglect the illustration 
 furnished by our fathers in the faith. Without any great 
 learning or critical apparatus, guided by clear reason and the 
 deep instincts of the human heart in simple loyalty to con- 
 victions, they affirmed this so-called heresy, until now we see 
 this apparent element of discord dissolving into an element of 
 unity. But this view of the divine government is to be val- 
 ued not chiefly as a dogma, but as an influence, a transform- 
 ing power — the power not of mere logical assurance, but of 
 the infinite love of God in the soul of man. With this con- 
 viction of the evangelical efficacy of the truth you hold, go 
 forth to your chosen field of labor. 
 
 While the occasional listener to Dr. Chapin's pulpit 
 efforts, and casual reader of his published sermons, might 
 miss such passages as have now been quoted, which set 
 his faith in Universalis m beyond a question, to his reg- 
 
266 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 ular hearers, and those who read him widely, they are as 
 conspicuous as mountain peaks rising from broad plains, 
 and as certifying as if they recurred on every passing 
 Sunday. To them the veiled statue, ever standing by 
 him, was no uncertain figure; for once, and again and 
 again, had they seen the drapery removed and the fair 
 form standing in full view. As they who have heard 
 the Vox Humana in some great organ know full well, 
 when the master at the instrument leaves the pleasing 
 pipe silent, that it is there holding its music in reserve, 
 so they who were wont to hear Chapin preach knew 
 that back of his grand and inspiring terms, m which he 
 set forth the universally accepted truths, this special 
 word was ever waiting to be spoken. 
 
 Dr. Chapin was not a debater, not given to affirming 
 or denying the disputed points of theology. He was 
 no text-explainer, manifested no exegetical talent, cared 
 not to divide the mind of his audience by any discus- 
 sion, but preferred to draw its heart into a saving sym- 
 pathy with some great moral principle or humane 
 sentiment. He sought to awaken in his congregation, 
 not a strife of thought, but a unity of spirit. " I 
 would like to have such a sermon," says one who is 
 a disciple of the broad faith, but who loves the spirit- 
 ual things of religion still better, "that if a stranger 
 were present he would not know he was in a Univer- 
 salist church, except perhaps by the great love and 
 hope that might pervade the discourse." Such were 
 the sermons, for the most part, which Dr. Chapin 
 preached. They did not reveal his creed, but they 
 filled the temple with a sacred light, disclosed visions 
 of truth and life which every eye was blest in behold- 
 
HIS UNIVERSALISM. 267 
 
 ing, melted all hearts into a common sentiment of love, 
 hope, worship, aspiration, gratitude, or consolation. In 
 the words of a writer : — 
 
 His converting power was immense, only that he converted 
 men to a love of the good and beautiful, rather than to any 
 creed or special form of faith. He converted men from par- 
 tial, embittering creeds, and from all sectarianism, to a larger 
 and nobler appreciation of the great Christian truths — the 
 paternity of God and the brotherhood of man. One half, we 
 doubt not, of his vast audiences — for vast they were, crowd- 
 ing even upon the steps to his pulpit, where they sat and 
 drank in the words of hope and promise that fell from his 
 tongiie, even as the bees of Hymettus clustered around the 
 lips of Plato — was composed of persons who were not pro- 
 fessors of, and very likely not sympathizers with, his creed, — 
 persons who might hear him preach for months, nor learn 
 nor think nor care what his formal creed was. For this rea- 
 son it is that he exerted such a wide spread and potent 
 influence. His eloquence brought the most diverse creed-men 
 together, and then sanctified to them the great spiritual and 
 practical truths taught by the gospel and by nature. 
 
 His supreme interest was not in a creed, but in Christ 
 and in the Christian spirit among men, making life 
 sweet and beautiful and strong. With a monk's de- 
 votion to the personal Saviour, and a poet's gift to set 
 him forth in all the glory of his spirit and power, he 
 would make religion chiefly a love and aspiration 
 toward this great soul. Hence he said : — 
 
 If ever there arises — as I verily believe there will — a 
 church as broad as the earth, ample as the free spirit 
 of God Almighty, and glorious as the truth that came from 
 heaven, a church of devout men and free minds, a church 
 
268 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 that shall not be hedged in by intellectual limitations, but 
 bound only by one great cord of unity, that cord will be 
 union with Christ Jesus. Then meeting with him, taking 
 hold of him, touching him, we shall come together. Oh, 
 these crooked roads of diversity through which the sects liave 
 wandered, these briers and thorns of controversy, these 
 weary speculations ! Come out of them ; come to the centre 
 from which you have diverged, and you shall meet Jesus 
 Christ, — Catholic, Protestant, Presbyterian, Universalist. 
 We may not agree in a statement about Him, but believing 
 in Him, and touching Him, we shall all be one. 
 
 But more and more, with the passing by of the years, 
 did he come to think a more formal statement of Uni- 
 versalism essential ; and he expressed a regret to Pv,ev. 
 Dr. Pullman, who, moved by the wide interest taken 
 in the Canon Farrar discussion of " everlasting punish- 
 ment," was in the midst of a course of doctrinal ser- 
 mons, that he could not join him in such a work. " I 
 can 't do it," was his expression. He felt himself to be 
 comparatively powerless in a discussion, and that it 
 was his mission to bless and save souls by drawing 
 their attention to undisputed themes. From the Gen- 
 eral Convention of Universalists he was rarely absent, 
 and in the educational institutions of the order he was 
 deeply interested. Among the later acts of his life, 
 when too weak to preach, was a visit to some of his 
 wealthy parishioners, in company with President Capen 
 of Tufts College, to urge on them the claims of that 
 school. Under the banner of the Universalist Church 
 he early enlisted, and to the end, by word and act, he 
 stood true to his colors. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE CHAPIN HOME. 
 
 Among the fruits of Dr. Chapin's ministry, which 
 may be regarded as a wide and various harvest of char- 
 acter, comfort, and good deeds, none is more character- 
 istic than the Chapin Home for the Aged and Infirm. 
 Begotten and fostered by liis life and teachings, regu- 
 lated in its methods according to his broad and generous 
 views, it stands before the public as a fitting tribute to 
 his humanity, and rightly bears his honored name. 
 From the first annual report, made in 1874, the follow- 
 ing quotation will be read with interest and approval : — 
 
 Two thoughts seem to have been in the minds of those 
 who conceived the project : first, that the best monument to 
 him who has nobly served his brother man is that which will 
 best iUustrate the spirit of his life ; and second, that our city 
 needed an institution whose charities should be as broad and 
 beneficent as the genius of freedom is divine and luiiversal. 
 The Chapin Home was the outgrowth of these sentiments. It 
 is at once a memorial to Rev, E. H. Chapin, D. D., whose 
 name it bears, — being erected by his friends in the city which 
 has been blessed with his ministry for over a quarter of a 
 century, — and a home where the aged and infirm may find 
 that loving care so much to be desired in the decline of life. 
 And that it may fitly commemorate the beloved and honored 
 
270 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 preacher, and harmonize entirely with the Christian thoughts 
 that gave it birth, they who ask its shelter are not required to 
 state their articles of faith. The question is not, " What is your 
 creed? " but " what is your need, my brother or my sister?" 
 
 The Act of Incorporation, applied for by Mrs. Edwin 
 H. Chapin and twenty other women, passed May 1, 
 1869 ; and it is stated in the Act, that " The general 
 business and object of said corporation shall be to pro- 
 vide a home and support for aged and infirm persons." 
 To the conditions " aged and infirm," the constitution 
 adds "worthy," since it was the purpose to gather into 
 the Home a group of the needy ones in the afternoon of 
 life, who could spend their remaining time on earth hap- 
 pily together, amid scenes more suggestive of home and 
 social mtercourse than of charity ; and all the appoint- 
 ments of the institution are tenderly and delicately 
 ordered to this end. " The rooms are all furnished hand- 
 somely, but not alike," as one of the reports affirms, 
 " the desire of the managers being to have them har- 
 moniovis in. color and comfort, but to avoid the pain- 
 ful uniformity that usually characterizes philanthropic 
 institutions." The beautiful pictures on the walls have 
 been mostly transferred from the parlors of the wealthy 
 and benevolent. Into the ample library have been 
 gathered not a few of the choicest of books, better even 
 than are found m the average home. In the style of 
 their raiment the members of the Home are permitted 
 to gratify their personal tastes, which gives a pleasing 
 variety. As at a generous fireside, their friends are 
 made welcome ; and the lady managers mingle in the 
 venerable company much like kindly neighbors and 
 friends, or even as younger sisters and daughters. In 
 
THE CHAPIN HOME. 271 
 
 sickness an affectionate care is bestowed ; and for no 
 part of his flock did Dr. Cliapin share a more personal 
 and tender concern. He went often to see them, some- 
 times climbmg the many steps leading to their rooms or 
 their assembly parlor with painful effort ; and many 
 were the kindly and cheering words he spoke to them, 
 the filial pleasantries by which he entertained them, the 
 comforting prayers he offered with them, and the beau- 
 tiful and touching tributes he paid them as they fell 
 asleep in the hope of an eternal youth, " where the in- 
 habitants never say, we are sick " or old. Indeed, a 
 charity so homelike and ideal is rarely to be met with. 
 At the first anniversary after the death of Dr. Chapin, 
 Dr. Howard Crosby said truly : " The Chapin Home is 
 not like most charitable institutions, which are little 
 better than prisons, but a true home in the full sense of 
 that sweet word." 
 
 By the terms of admission only those can become 
 members of the Home who are " not under sixty-five 
 years of age." But the larger portion of the venerable 
 group must have moved on to the eightieth milestone 
 on the journey of life, and are here waiting in comfort 
 and peace, as on the highest height of time, for their de- 
 parture to the heavenly city. Eescued from the cold 
 and harsh waves which beat against the aged poor, here 
 they find shelter and rest as in a sunny haven ; and 
 whoever pays them a visit will bless the great preacher 
 who inspired this unspeakable favor for their last days ! 
 Cheered thus at the evening of life, soothed in their 
 sickness, made tranquil in death, and buried with affec- 
 tionate regard, — the spirit of Dr. Chapin must be seen 
 ever standing amid these mercies and urging them on. 
 
272 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The death Hst of the Home for the year in which 
 he also went to join the absent ones, suggests with pa- 
 thetic force his usefulness in time and his honors in 
 eternity. " From among the most aged of our house- 
 hold," says the report, "five have gone to their final 
 rest : Mr. Samuel Pryor died January 22, aged eighty- 
 seven years ; he had been an inmate two years. Mrs. 
 Elanor Williamson died January 23, aged one hundred 
 and four years ; she had been an mmate two years. Mrs. 
 Emeline Hubbard died April 8, aged seventy-three 
 years ; she had been an inmate eight years. Mrs. Eliza- 
 beth Eomaine died April 8, aged eighty-three years ; she 
 had been an inmate five years ; and Mr. Brewster Jar- 
 vis died April 11, aged eighty-one years; he had been 
 an inmate eight years." It must have been a scene to 
 enhance the joy of the angels, as this venerable group, 
 in the Better Land, gathered around their benefactor 
 and friend to bear hun their greetings ! 
 
 While " only ladies of the Universalist Denomination 
 of Christians shall be eligible to election as Trustees of 
 the Institution," the administration of the charity is 
 carried on in the most unsectarian form and spirit. 
 Only on this ground would Dr. Chapin consent to its 
 being founded in his name. Hence the Sunday services 
 at the Home, which are held regularly, are conducted 
 by preachers of every denomination except the Roman 
 Catholic. The second annual report, m 1875, says : 
 "The number of inmates is thirty-five. Six of these 
 are Presbyterians, nine Episcopalians, three Baptists, ten 
 Universalists, two Unitarians, four Methodists, and one 
 Moravian." The fourth report says : "There are at pres- 
 ent thirty-five inmates, representing nearly every denom- 
 
THE CHAPIN HOME. 273 
 
 ination of religious faith." The eighth report says: 
 "There are forty-seven inmates," but makes no reference 
 to sectarian names, a silence that would be most conge- 
 nial to Dr. Chapin. The Christian love he felt, and 
 mused on and enjoined, was broad as humanity and 
 impartial as the sunshine. And the Trustees of the 
 Home, referring to the loss of their great leader, well 
 say: "Let us look to it that the standard raised by our 
 departed friend is not lowered, that the principles he 
 inculcated are exemplified, that the lessons of love he 
 taught are the rule and governance of our conduct. So 
 shall this Institution be a witness to our fidelity and 
 love, a monument sacred to his name and memory." 
 
 The Chapin Home is located on Sixty-sixth Street, 
 New York. It is a handsome brick building with 
 brown stone facings, and has a frontage of one hundred 
 feet. It is five stories high, exclusive of turret. It 
 contains sixty-seven rooms, besides closets, pantries, and 
 bath-rooms on each floor. It is heated by steam and 
 lighted by gas, each room having a heater and burner, 
 and each floor hot and cold water. The annual cost of its 
 support is about ten thousand dollars, which is furnished 
 by contributions from its friends, — mostly by members 
 of the Church of the Divine Paternity, of which Dr. 
 Chapin was the beloved pastor. From its foundation in 
 1869, to the time of her death in 1881, Mrs. Dr. Chapin 
 was its active and honored president. If earthly good 
 accomplished rises as a memorial to our credit in heaven, 
 then will the Chapin Home be regarded among the glo- 
 rified as an honor to these two souls that gave to it so 
 much of influence and active service. 
 
 18 
 
XVII. 
 
 AN ODD-FELLOW. 
 
 In the Order of Odd-Fellows Chapin became eminent 
 as an ofecer, editor, and orator. As lie was rising tow- 
 ard the zenith of his power and fame, some of his best 
 hours and days were given to the defence and advance- 
 ment of this organization. By its practical benevolence, 
 its aim to render into life the beautiful sentiment of 
 love, he was drawn to it as the needle is drawn to the 
 magnet. Its terms Brotherhood and Belief, — so often 
 recuning in its literature, its formulas, addresses, 
 and poems, — touched and enticed his broad and gen- 
 erous heart. Its keynote was in full accord with that 
 which was sounding in his own soul and in his pulpit 
 eloquence; and, while he grandly chanted this noble 
 strain outside, he hastened to join the fraternal chorus 
 within. 
 
 Nor was he indifferent to the social hours he found 
 among these banded brethren. He took to the friendly 
 interchange of ideas and encounters of wit for which 
 the Lodge furnished an opportunity. With heart and 
 voice he could join in singing the Odd-Fellow's favorite 
 stanza : — 
 
 ' ' Where Friendship, Love, and Truth abound, 
 Among a band of brothers, 
 The cup of joy goes gaily round, 
 Each shares the bliss of others." 
 
AN ODD-FELLOW. 275 
 
 But no sooner had he taken his place in this 
 Order, than his gifts were drawn into the most active 
 service. 
 
 Of the " Symbol, and Odd-Fellow's Magazine," pub- 
 lished monthly in Boston, and having a wide circulation 
 and mfluence m New England, he was made sole editor. 
 To great acceptance for two years he filled this import- 
 ant position, and finally retired only out of regard to 
 his failing health and need of rest. In his first edito- 
 rial he paid the Order the following compliment : — 
 
 We believe it is calculated to soften those asj^erities that are 
 induced by our isolated and selfish individuality, that it is 
 calculated to awakeu sympathy by those bonds of intimate 
 acquaintanceship which it creates, that it bauishes those 
 prejudices which are the results of ignorance, and wliich a 
 knowledge of our brotlier man is apt to dispel, that it excites 
 emotions of kindness and generosity, and is eminently cal- 
 culated to make the stranger a friend, and the adversary a 
 brother. If these are its tendencies, and we think they are, 
 then is ours a charitable institution, an association pecu- 
 liarly devoted to the spirit of love, — to the kindly emotions, 
 the generous deeds, the voluntary sacrifices, the beautiful 
 amenities that spring from that great principle, and bless 
 those with Avhom they come in contact. 
 
 In a later editorial he afl&rmed : — 
 
 "We place Odd-Fellowship upon this single ground, — that 
 it is an agent in relieving the distress that is in this world, 
 and cherishing and diffusing the great sentiment of human 
 brotherhood. On this ground its claims can be defended, 
 and it will stand ; and we can show that it possesses a pecu- 
 liar efficacy for the accomplishment of these results. 
 
276 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 While giving his editorial pen mainly to the promo- 
 tion of brotherly love and relief, he sometimes placed 
 it at the service of other interests that enter into the 
 well-being of man. He enjoined all the virtues on the 
 brotherhood with a signal emphasis, while he pleaded for 
 temperance with a zeal only second to that with which 
 be advocated humanity. Occasionally he burst into 
 some poetic inspiration, and painted before his many 
 patrons some pleasing scene, as if he would enchant 
 their leisure hours. One of these dainty pictures he 
 wrought out as " Thoughts for the Summer-time," put- 
 ting the interest and skill of some great landscape 
 painter — a Turner or a Bierstadt — into the scope and 
 detail of his sketch. Eead amid the snows of Decem- 
 ber this prose idyl restores to the very feelings the air 
 and aspects of June. 
 
 " It has kept for after treats, 
 The essences of summer sweets." 
 
 But how liable is one's finest hope to be dashed with 
 disappointment ! Thus the mother who decorates her 
 baby for a show finds the whole effect spoiled by the 
 perverse behavior of the little one. An exquisite statue 
 is broken by being carelessly lifted to its place, and the 
 poor artist's heart is more marred than his marble. And 
 thus Chapin's delicately finished editorial, sent from his 
 hand as a gem to please by its lustre, was sadly damaged 
 in printing. In the next issue of the "Symbol" he 
 indulged in the following pleasant wail : — 
 
 Dear Reader, — We are not one of the best of penmen. 
 We write after the most approved fly-tracks that Ave know of, 
 but the printer cannot always decipher us, though he gen- 
 erally does better than we expect. In our leading article in 
 
AN ODD-FELLOW. 277 
 
 the last number, however, we are called upon to pay a pen- 
 alty for our cramped penmanship, that we are not willing 
 to suffer without explaining to you. If you did us the honor 
 to read our " Thoughts for the Summer-time," in about the 
 seventh line of that article your eye caught these words, by 
 which we intended to carry out the simile of nature as a 
 temple: "Its "psaltery '\% the flushed and kindling clouds." 
 If you noticed this, no doubt you were somewhat puzzled 
 to know what kind of cloud music this might be. But we 
 did not so Avrite. For the word psaltery substitute the word 
 upholstery, and we flatter ourselves that our idea will seem 
 clearer. In the thirteenth line, too, instead of " wave of the 
 dewy grass," we Avrote odor or fragrance ; we confess we do 
 not exactly know which, but it was something of the kind. 
 A little further along we spoke of the ocean that " unrolls 
 its mottled splendor before us." Alas ! it was printed wreathed 
 splendor. And in the very same line, when we were endeavor- 
 ing to describe as well as we could the Summer heaven, by 
 speaking of its " serene and starry aspects," our picture was 
 overclouded by the printer, who made it "serene and stormy 
 aspects." On the next page, the fourth line from the top, we 
 wrote that every sinew of nature " is strained and busy ; " but 
 the whole anatomy of the figure has been changed, and it reads 
 " strained and hony^^ and goes on to speak of " every ele- 
 ment in the sprigs of the mountain," when we meant the fly- 
 tracks to say sjyrings. In the fifteenth line from the top, for 
 preferable read palpable, and we shall be better suited. 
 So shall we be if, in the eighth line from the bottom of that 
 page, for the word divinity you substitute the word which we 
 wrote, charity ; we certainly have a right to ask for charity 
 here. We will not decipher further now. 
 
 If there is any truth in tlie oft-repeated conceit that 
 a bad penmanship and genius go together, the former 
 
278 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 being the sign of the latter, then is Chapili's title to a 
 high rank among the gifted well established. Simply- 
 fearful was the responsibility of a proof-reader who, as 
 in the above case, ventured to take his " most approved 
 fly-tracks " and carry them without help of their 
 author to the printed page. In 1842, two years prior 
 to the date of " Thoughts on the Summer-time," he 
 gave an oration before the Odd-Fellows of New York, 
 in the Broadway Tabernacle. The electrified brother- 
 hood, as with one voice, pleaded for it in print. The re- 
 sult was a pamphlet " entered according to the Act of 
 Congress;" but on the margins of the pages of a copy 
 sent by Chapin to an editorial friend, he entered thirty- 
 eight publisher's mistakes, ranging all the way from the 
 very serious to the extremely amusing. In a moment of 
 sport he remarked to a brother Odd-Fellow that the 
 Order had poured over him its applause and slung at 
 him its types. He was keenly sensitive to a misprint, 
 and yet no one was oftener the victim of maltreatment 
 in this particular. 
 
 The hour in which he delivered this Tabernacle Ora- 
 tion was one of the great hours of his life, both in the 
 inspiration and eloquence that filled it, and in its sequel. 
 Drawing to him the attention and admiration of leading 
 ■men in that eloquence-loving city, and especially among 
 the Universalists, it at once set New York into a sharp 
 rivalry with Charlestown, and later with Boston, for 
 the privilege of listening every Sunday to the might 
 and magic of his pulpit oratory. 
 
 " By the way he said Brethren, as he came before 
 the vast assemblage of strangers," observes one who 
 heard him, " he captured every heart, and the storm of 
 
AN ODD-FELLOW. 279 
 
 applause burst before lie went any further." The en- 
 tire introduction is as fine in spirit as felicitous in rhet- 
 oric, and will be ever read with a pleasure second only 
 to that produced by Hstening to it. 
 
 Brethren, — I am happy to greet you upon this anniver- 
 sary, happy to meet you surrounded by your insignia of 
 Friendship, Love, and Truth — emblems of great and beau- 
 tiful ideas that hover in the van of the race, ideas that live in 
 the proudest chiselHngs of the sculptor and breathe in the 
 deepest thoughts of the poet, and yet find a home by every 
 fireside, a shrine in every beating heart. You have come up 
 here to-night, and sweet music wafts its melody around you. 
 But it has no martial strength, it bears no stormy memo- 
 ries of conflict. It speaks of kind words and gentle offices, 
 and thrills us with a loftier sentiment. From yon rustling 
 banner-folds great truths shed down their light upon us ; 
 but they reveal no dogmas of sect, no hackneyed maxims of 
 party ; they are watchwords of humanity, written on the 
 brow of every man. Here is assembled a vast, dense multi- 
 tude, like those throngs that of old waited upon some mighty 
 spectacle or purple victory. But no motive like this has 
 summoned us. In all this array and circumstance we answer 
 not to the Past, but to the Idea of this Present Age. There- 
 fore, again do I greet you. And this allusion to the Idea of 
 the Present Age may lead to some considerations that will be 
 found appropriate for us at this time. 
 
 He discussed the topic, the Present Age an Age of 
 Amelioration, and drew vivid and hopeful pictures of 
 Love moving abroad among men on her mission of re- 
 form and comfort. In art, in literature, in the laws, in 
 asylums, in fraternal organizations for social and chari- 
 table ends, he saw this queen of a better age gaining place 
 
280 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 and power, and hailed her coming as one who had given 
 her his whole heart. In his notice of this discourse 
 Eev. Thomas Wliittemore said : " It is full of printers' 
 blunders, but every sentence sparkles with gems." 
 
 Not less signal was Chapin's oratorical triumph 
 among the Odd-Fellows in Boston. On the 19th of 
 June, 1845, the Order from all the regions round came 
 up to the ancient city to hold a high festival in 
 commemoration of the revival of the Order in Massa- 
 chusetts. The morning hours of the memorable day 
 were given to exercises in Faneuil Hall, the most 
 notable part of which was a lengthy and able oration 
 by James L. Eidgely, Corresponding Secretary of the 
 Grand Lodge of the United States. About noon, eight 
 thousand men, wearing the insignia of the Order, fell 
 into the procession, which marched through prominent 
 streets to the music, made in fitting alternation, by 
 twenty-four brass bands, — the line of march ending at 
 the grand pavilion erected for their accommodation. 
 Plates were set for seven thousand men. At the close 
 of the banquet Chapin spoke eloquently to the senti- 
 ment : " The Grand Lodge of Massachusetts — behold 
 her resurrection ! " But the climax of his oratory was 
 reserved for the evening gathering in Faneuil Hall, 
 where were assembled many of the patriarchs and offi- 
 cers of the order, with a brilliant and happy concourse 
 of men and women. The best portrayal of the scene 
 is in the words of one who saw it, and is here 
 given : — 
 
 Old Faneuil Hall in flowers ! The dingy pillars were 
 wreathed with garlands of roses and evergreen, and its lieavy 
 Doric capitals bore on their plain mossy brows unwonted 
 
AN ODD-FELLOW. 281 
 
 clusters of Flora's loveliest gifts. The beautiful parasites 
 clung in fragrant arches about the ancient windows, and de- 
 pended in graceful festoons from the time-stained walls. How 
 brilliant the lights ! how inspiring the music ! . The banners 
 of the Order glistened as they waved from the front galleries, 
 or hung in beautiful relief against a back-ground of green 
 leaves and tinted flowers. How delicious the atmosphere, as 
 if the clear west wind had brought its fragrant burthen into 
 the midst of our close and sultry habitations ! . . . And 
 eloquence had found its inspiration. Chapin, ever fervid and 
 felicitous, moved every soul, prepared as all were to respond 
 with deep feeling to his impassioned appeals. Skilfully, as 
 a true master of oratory, did he use the many and varied 
 influences which the place and the occasion afi'orded, invok- 
 ing the spirits of the mighty dead to quicken the afliections of 
 the living. Patriotism and philanthropy were the great 
 themes of which he spoke, and in their advocacy he en- 
 tranced his hearers Avith the glowing spirit and graceful 
 charms of his oratory. 
 
 Before the Odd-Fellows of Maryland, assembled at 
 Baltimore, he gave one of his best orations, on the Prac- 
 tical Eecognition of Human Brotherhood the Great Want 
 of Society. It was his old and favorite theme, and 
 never did he throw into it more compactness of thought, 
 more of the fire of deep feeling, the rich fertility of 
 imagination, or the overpowering vehemence of delivery. 
 But of this effort Chapin was always pleased to say ; 
 " I failed to keep my level, commencing on a lofty plane 
 and concluding on a lowly." The discourse was pro- 
 nounced in Howard's Grove, near the city, a very ele- 
 vated platform having been provided for the orator and 
 the officers. In front of the platform, but in immediate 
 contact with it, a reading-desk had been mounted on 
 
282 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 separate standards to bear up the speaker's manuscript. 
 " After Mr. Chapin had become pretty well warmed np 
 with his subject," writes Eev. James Shriglej, then a 
 resident of Baltimore, " the front part of the platform 
 gave way and left the orator clinging to his desk, his 
 feet dangling in the air. On being relieved from this 
 unpleasant predicament, he mounted a box some 
 three feet high and proceeded with his discourse, with 
 manuscript in hand. But seeing the people resting 
 their eyes on the high desk, which looked much like a 
 gallows, he cried out in his ringing voice : ' Mind not 
 high things, but condescend to men of low estate ! ' " 
 His happy turn of the calamity was taken as a pleasant 
 part of the occasion, and holds a place in memory with 
 his eloquent plea for a more practical recognition of 
 human brotherhood. 
 
 A more formal statement of the history of Chapin's 
 connection with the Odd-Fellows, and of the esteem in 
 which he was held by them, will be found in the follow- 
 ing quotation from the Proceedings of the Grand Lodge 
 of Massachusetts for the year 1881 : — 
 
 From the records of Friendship Lodge, No. 10, of the city 
 of Richmond, we learn that E. H. Chapin was admitted a 
 member of that lodge December 31, 1838. His card of clear- 
 ance from Friendship Lodge bears the date of January 4, 1842. 
 This he deposited in Bunker Hill Lodge, No. 14, Charlestown, 
 Mass., and was admitted a member. In August, 1843, he 
 was elected Grand ^Master of the Grand Lodge of the State of 
 Massachusetts, a position which he filled with credit to himself 
 and honor to the Fraternity. In August, 1844, he was elected 
 Grand Representative to the Grand Lodge of the United 
 States for that year. In this position he gave evidence of his 
 
AN ODD-FELLOW. 283 
 
 wonderful gifts and accomplishments, which he did not hes- 
 itate to use for the advancement of Odd-Fellowship. He Avas 
 appointed chairman of the committee to revise the work of 
 the Order, and much of the beautiful language contained in 
 the several degrees, before the last revision, is attributed to his 
 gifted pen. 
 
 "The Eemombrance Degree," another writes, "was made 
 up partly of the old matter, and the manuscripts submitted 
 by Chapin, the eloquent opening lecture of tlie Noble Grand 
 being his production. Then taking up the Scarlet Degree, 
 recourse was again had to the beautiful conceptions of moral 
 duty embodied in the manuscripts of Chapin, from which 
 were selected the opening charge of the Vice-Grand, and also 
 the first paragraph of the lecture of the Noble Grand." 
 
 The great field of labor which now opened before him in 
 other directions evidently demanded all his time and attention, 
 for we do not again find him actively engaged in the work of 
 the Order. But we recall with pride and gratitude that, in 
 the early days of the revival of Odd-Fellowship, he was able 
 to give to our beloved institution the weight of his great name 
 and character, the aid of his unequalled eloquence, the support 
 of his clear judgment and eminent learning. 
 
 The entire Order was stimulated by his enthusiasm, and 
 became instructed in its principles and teaets as by his voice 
 and pen they were displayed and elucidated. His words and 
 wisdom will continue to greet the accession of every new 
 brother, and will fall with never-tiring repetition upon the ear 
 of the whole Fraternity. 
 
 We join with all our hearts, and with a fraternal satisfac- 
 tion, in the praises widely bestowed upon our departed brother. 
 While we rejoice that for a time, in no limited measure, his 
 great gifts were lent to us, we do not fail to recognize that his 
 commanding spirit found in many ways fullest employment 
 in the service of God and humanity. As a Christian min- 
 
284 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 ister he was so high in position, so eloquent in discourse, so 
 catholic in method, that lie seemed lifted above all denom- 
 inational limitation. As a platform instructor, always engaged 
 upon lofty themes, he so tasked his energies to respond to 
 continual demand, that it might almost be said that the whole 
 country had at some time been his auditor. 
 
 Desiring to place on record our appreciation of his worth 
 and character, we would offer the following resolutions : — 
 
 Resolved, That as members of this E. W. Grand Lodge, as 
 citizens of this Commonwealth and of our common country, 
 we realize the great loss sustained in the death of Edwin H. 
 Chapin, P. G. Master. 
 
 A feeling of sadness pervades us when we contemplate that 
 we are no more to be instructed and uplifted by the magnetic 
 power of his living Avords ; that the sympathetic heart, which 
 for upwards of threescore years was continually pulsating, 
 and by voice and pen exerting a powerful influence for every 
 true reform, has ceased to beat. But in the abundant fruits 
 of his labor we find the results of his having carried into 
 practice the noble principles which in his earlier days he had 
 done so much to engraft upon the flourishing tree of Amer- 
 ican Odd-Fellowship. 
 
XVIII. 
 
 A EEFORMER. 
 
 Dk. Chapin might be hot or cold, but he could not 
 be lukewarm, and when at length he came from the Con- 
 servative South to the Eadical North, and was touched 
 by the genius and aim of a more progressive type of 
 society, he at once took the side of the reforms : and, 
 blending a rare zeal and an overwhelming eloquence, 
 he was hailed far and wide as the master of the plat- 
 forms. Dignified as a Father Mathew, loving the 
 right with all the zest of a Garrison or Parker, — if 
 not hating the wrong so severely, — holding in com- 
 mand the wit and pathos of a Gough, he also shared, 
 what these did not, the most intense ardor, and the 
 golden tongue of the great orator. No one of all the 
 reform speakers could so successfully conquer apathy, 
 and sweep his audiences into a tumult of enthusiasm 
 as soldiers in the army of reform. Garrison and Parker 
 may have been more convincing, but they were less 
 moving, and often they set enmity into a defiant tem- 
 per by their asperity, while he conquered hatred by 
 love. He seldom drew from the vocabulary of invec- 
 tive, and ever spoke more in sorrow than anger of 
 wrong-doers. If he was less dramatic than Gough, he 
 was greatly his superior as a master of the conscience 
 
286 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 and heart. John Pierpont was more poetic and caustic, 
 but not so broad in spirit nor so mighty in word. 
 Horace Mann was his peer in kindness and catholicity, 
 but took no rank with him as an orator. 
 
 It is not difficult to trace the sources of Chapin's 
 devotion to the reforms. He was a man of large heart, 
 and felt a keen sympathy with every condition of man- 
 kind. He also shared no ordinary vision of good and 
 evil, virtue and vice, holiness and sin, and of the expe- 
 riences of such as are living in one or the other of these 
 states, since his was the graphic and strong vision of the 
 moral genius. As Angelo saw no ordinary scenes invit- 
 ing his brush and chisel, because he looked out from no 
 common depth and power of feeling, as Milton saw 
 " with larger, other eyes than ours," because of his vast 
 poetic sensibilities, so the fervid soul of Chapin beheld 
 the varied lot of man in the strongest lights, and he was 
 greatly moved by his conceptions. His were no half- 
 views of the conditions of society, such as the sluggish 
 nature shares, but he saw the living scenes in all their 
 vividness. He missed none of the lights and shades 
 which rest on the landscape of life. With a glad eye 
 he noted the fine-cut features, the open brow, the manly 
 bearing, the look of honesty, sobriety, and peace ; and 
 with the most acute pain he beheld, to quote his own 
 words, " dark minds from which God is obscured ; de- 
 luded souls, whose fetish is the dice-box or the bottle ; 
 apathetic spirits, steex^ed in sensual abomination, un- 
 moved by a moral ripple, soaking in the slums of animal 
 vitality." And seeing thus, with no dull eye, the beauty 
 of the true life, and the darkness and deformity of sin, 
 he was moved by the intensity of his vision to be an 
 ardent reformer. 
 
A REFORMER. 287 
 
 He was also cheered in this work by his faith in hu- 
 man nature. In man's lowest estate he saw something 
 hopeful, — a spark of divinity there covered but not 
 quenched, an image of God, marred and defaced but 
 not wholly obliterated, and capable of being restored to 
 its primal beauty, or even of being exalted into the 
 more positive aspects of the divine, as the restored por- 
 trait of some ideal saint may still be improved by a finer 
 art. The undying germ, in man, of the true life, escaped 
 not his searching and sympathetic eye. " The human 
 soul is a great deep," he affirmed, " and we must take 
 into view the nebulous possibilities that are brooding 
 and waiting there, and notice the films of light that 
 reveal themselves even in the darkest spaces. . . . That 
 son of infamy is still a man, though his manhood is 
 crushed and disfigured; he is still the offspring of G-od, 
 not unwatched by him, not outside the circle of his 
 help. Why, then, should you and I cast him off and 
 stand aloof? . . . Who says any man is hopeless, utterly 
 degraded, fit only to be destroyed ? He falters from the 
 confidence of Christ. . . . The mystery of this soul en- 
 shrined in flesh, even though it be sinful flesh, is that 
 there is in it that which enables it to claim kinship with 
 God." He discovered a moral sense in the most de- 
 praved, a capacity of hope and aspiration in every child 
 of God, a power to rise in those who have sunk the 
 lowest ; and, holding such a view of human nature, he 
 approached it with reverence and confidence, and pleaded 
 with it tenderly and earnestly to turn from sinful paths 
 and walk in the ways of honor and gladness. 
 
 His zeal as a reformer was, moreover, a natural out- 
 growth from his creed, as the oak from the acorn, or 
 
288 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the eagle from the royal egg. Between his head and 
 his heart there was the most intimate friendship, and 
 his ideas passed by a short and rapid current into 
 speech and act. Hence his doctrines of the universal 
 fatherhood of God, the common brotherhood of man, 
 and a common salvation for all through renunciation of 
 sin and turning to righteousness, inspired him with the 
 broadest sympathies and a holy enthusiasm to aid in 
 working out the great issue. Of these convictions he 
 felt the full force, and could not rest from the toils they 
 imposed. Fraternity was his great watchword, and 
 fellow-helpfulness the strong impulse of his heart ; and 
 for years, while in full health and strength, it was his 
 meat and drink to do service for erring and sinful man, 
 — in pointing out to him the better way, painting before 
 him the beauty and gladness of virtue, and inciting him 
 to rise, like the Prodigal in the parable, and turn from 
 the dreary wilderness to the Paradise whose gates are 
 ever open to the penitent. 
 
 It was on the basis of this all-inclusive premise of 
 reform found in his creed, that the scope and diversity 
 of his words and toils on behalf of his kind may be 
 accounted for. He confessed his kinship with the 
 race of man, and fell into no narrow channel of sym- 
 pathy and work. He did not love a drunkard and 
 hate a bigot, nor strive to save man from the hardships 
 of his lot and leave woman to be the victim of injustice 
 and cruelty. Prom his lips fell the most impassioned 
 arguments in favor of peace among the nations of the 
 earth, liberty for every citizen of the state, temperance 
 in every life, equality of rights in man and woman, 
 toleration of every form of faith and doubt, and broth- 
 
A REFORMER. 289 
 
 erhood in all the walks of society, instead of caste and 
 hostility. For justice toward all and malice toward 
 none, for right against might, for the suppression of 
 every wrong and the triumph of every form of good, 
 he pleaded with all the fervor and force he was able to 
 put into words ; and among the possibilities of literature 
 is a compendium of arguments for all the reforms 
 drawn from his sermons and speeches. 
 
 But he saw no redemption for man save in the name 
 and spirit of Christianity. In superficial reformatory 
 devices and fanatical panaceas he had no faith, but in 
 the simple motives and sanctions which Christ awakens 
 he believed with all his heart. He placed great re- 
 liance on spiritual covenants, but not so much on formal 
 ones ; and hence he was no disciple of Fourier, no 
 advocate of the phalanx or community as a means of 
 redeeming man. He agreed with Emerson, who, criticis- 
 ing the defect of the Brook Farm scheme, said : " Spoons 
 and skimmers you can lay undistinguishably together, 
 but vases and statues require each a pedestal for itself." 
 Into a personal relation with God and Christ and virtue 
 he would bring the soul, as its true condition and the 
 secret of its strength and safety. While he worked 
 with some of the more general reform organizations, he 
 still made organization subordinate to moral and re- 
 ligious appeals. " It is too late," he said, " for reform- 
 ers to sneer at Christianity ; it is foolishness for them 
 to reject it. In it is enshrined our faith in human pro- 
 gress, our confidence in reform. ... If any one 
 maintains reform as a substitute for Christianity, he 
 attributes to the stream the virtues of the fountain ; he 
 ascribes to the arteries the central function of the heart. 
 
 19 
 
290 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 For from Christianity beats the great pulse of the 
 world's hope. ... A man that has the spirit of 
 Christ in him has the sprmg and energy of all positive 
 power. . . . That life of Christ ! It has achieved 
 unspeakable victories — victories which mailed hand 
 and armed host never could have accomplished. It 
 overturned the marble gods of Greece ; it plucked do- 
 minion from the throne of the Csesars ; it tamed the rude 
 barbarian as he stood exulting amid the ruins of an- 
 cient civilization ; it carried its meliorating power into 
 the very heart of the Middle Ages ; it spoke in the grand 
 doctrines of the Eeformation ; it came with the Pil- 
 grims through the stormy ocean of December ; it is in 
 the van, far in the van, of the noblest efforts and the 
 best hopes of the present age. . . . Eeligious prin- 
 ciple operating through individual hearts — this is the 
 great want of the age." 
 
 He was in the fullest sense of the term a Christian 
 reformer, with one hand clinging to God and Christ, 
 and with the other reaching forth to rescue the sin- 
 tossed from the wild and fatal waters. Standing on 
 the firm shore of the divine, he sought to draw thither 
 the morally w^recked and drowning ones for safety and 
 peace. In kindling the sacred instincts and aspirations 
 he placed his main trust. As the best means of saving 
 the erring he sought to make them see and feel their 
 rank and privilege as children of God and heirs of im- 
 mortality, and to look ever up to the perfect ideals. 
 
 In the temperance reform he had a deeper and more 
 active interest than in any other ; but while he was the 
 orator of the organizations he was not a member of 
 them. He advocated the pledge as a help to the weak. 
 
A REFORMER. 291 
 
 " For multitudes," lie said, " the simple fact of signature, 
 the tremulous writing of a name, the making of a mark, 
 has had a binding sanction, that no silent resolution 
 and no verbal declaration could have secured." He also 
 looked with favor on the law as a possible help in this 
 work of reform. It might be made to check the sale of 
 intoxicants, and thus limit temptations along the path 
 of the weak. Like many others he had a hope in pro- 
 hibition, which has not yet been realized in experience. 
 He often repeated a little story, at one period of his life, 
 to illustrate the power of the law. There was a wager 
 between two New Orleans men that one of them could 
 not stand for ten minutes the bites of the mosquitoes 
 on his naked shoulders. When the long and trying 
 moments were nearly at their end and the bet likely to 
 be won, some one behind the foolish hero touched his 
 exposed flesh with the lighted end of a cigar, which 
 sent him away with a leap and the exclamation : " I 
 can stand the mosquitoes, but a gallinipper is too much 
 for me 1 " The gallinipper being a larger mosquito, 
 with a much sharper bite, was too pungent an opposer 
 for his purpose to withstand ; and thus did the great 
 orator seek to show the advantage the law might have 
 over moral suasion in breaking down the persistence of 
 the liquor-dealer. Withstanding the assault of words, 
 he might quail before the sheriff's warrant. 
 
 But far above pledge and law did Chapin place moral 
 appeals and Christian sympathies as the best aids in 
 bringing man to a true character and an ideal behavior. 
 Ever inspired and guided by principle himself, he felt it 
 was the basis of all right life. To it he looked in hope, 
 and with it he wrought in faith. 
 
XIX. 
 
 WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 
 
 That Dr. Chapin had a broad and strong love of man 
 must be evident to all who have read of him as an Odd- 
 Eellow and a Keformer. We saw him borne into those 
 relations by the humane impulse of his heart ; and if in 
 later years he ceased to be the former, and was the lat- 
 ter only in a degree, it was not that love had become a 
 faded and withered plant in his heart, but solely on the 
 ground that his energies were taxed to their utmost, 
 even bsyond the limit of safety, in other offices of love. 
 His position as a preacher had assumed a signal pres- 
 tige, and he keenly felt the privilege and responsibility 
 of his sermons as avenues of blessing to his fellow- 
 beings ; and along them he poured, in ample volume, 
 the warm stream of his sympathy in the various forms 
 of instruction, reproof, incitement, spiritual quickening, 
 and solace. In his weekly congregations, gathered from 
 all parts of the land and from all lands, and crowding 
 pews and aisles and pulpit stairs, his heart found a rare 
 province for toil. In noticing a volume of his sermons, 
 the editor of the " Christian Register " said : " If we were 
 to describe the distinctive peculiarities of Mr. Chapin's 
 preaching, we should say it is affectionate and humane. 
 It breathes throughout a generous, hopeful, and frater- 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 293 
 
 nal spirit." Wlienever his theme led him, as it often 
 did, to speak of the common brotherhood of man, his 
 hearers were sure to be stirred by his most impassioned 
 eloquence. 
 
 " I am a man," said the Roman poet, " and nothing 
 pertaining to humanity is foreign to me ; " and such 
 was the breadth of Chapin's sympathy, as seen in ser- 
 mon and prayer and lecture and essay. 
 
 His genuine kindhness is betrayed in the fact that 
 he saw the good and not the evil in man, as a rule. He 
 was no cynic. He never looked through a blue glass at 
 the people. He never sneered like a Voltaire, nor 
 scorned like a Byron, nor chafed with contempt like a 
 Carlyle, nor even fell into a momentary fit of suspicion 
 like Mr. Emerson, who said the reformers are seeking 
 to save those who are not worth saving. On the con- 
 trary, he was always in a good humor toward the race. 
 In man he saw something great, and he honored and 
 loved him as a child of God, and threw over him the 
 rosy arch of hope. " The old cynic took a light to find 
 a man ; but we find men everywhere," said Chapin, " in 
 the poorest home and in the darkest lane. Beneath the 
 coarsest vestment there throbs a human heart, upon 
 the most degraded brow a mother's hand of love has 
 been laid, and through the dimmest eyes there shines a 
 quenchless soul." No bitter word ever slipped from 
 his rapid pen, or fell from his swift tongue. " For thirty 
 years I have heard him preach," says Mr. Fellows, " but 
 I never heard him say a word against anybody. He 
 criticised institutions and reproved sins, but was gener- 
 ous toward men." It is the testimony of one of his 
 most intimate friends, Charles A. Ropes, that " he never 
 
, 294 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 spoke ill of any one." It is douLtfiil if lie were capable 
 of entertaining unkind thoughts of any one in his sin- 
 gularly tolerant and generous mind. 
 
 While referring the reader who would study the 
 wider scope of Chapin's humanity to other chapters of 
 this book, it is proposed here to call attention to some 
 of the tender trifles to which this strong man stooped, 
 and in which, as the sky is mirrored in a drop of dew, 
 the greatness of his heart is reflected. He needs no 
 rosary, the thread of whose life is thus strung with the 
 small beads of love, as he moves along in the obscure 
 walks. In this more private record may be reflected the 
 prime credit of the soul. Here is best seen, it may be, 
 the actual spirit of the man. As the blazing meteor 
 passes into a cold and dark stone as it leaves its con- 
 spicuous place in the sky and falls on the earth, so many 
 a luminous spirit before the public darkens and chills 
 as it enters the private walks. Only when lifted up 
 should they be looked at. But it is not so with Dr. 
 Chapin ; but, rather, there is a finer spirit and beauty 
 of love to be seen in this man's life as we follow him 
 in the hidden byways of his pilgrimage. 
 
 In the -early days of his ministry he chanced to 
 meet with a worthy young man in whose soul was 
 sounding a call to the ministry, and learning that 
 his means were sadly unequal to his ambition and 
 promise of usefulness, he took him to his home and 
 gave him bed and board and encouragement and in- 
 struction for some months as a gratuity. At every 
 suggestion of payment he closed the young man's 
 moutli, and bade him share in peace of mind the prof- 
 fered hospitality and help. He had once been poor 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 295 
 
 himself, and knew what it was to stand gazmg up the 
 mountain of education without money to purchase an 
 ascent, and had hastened to his profession without much 
 help from tlie schools, as a necessity of his lot in life. 
 And hence his heart was made happy by thus aiding 
 Eev. J. H. Farnsworth over an interposing barrier into 
 the ministry he has honored for many years, and still 
 loves and serves. 
 
 Carefully folded and preserved m his pocket, he car- 
 ried for several years a little flower which a child had 
 sent him. To his fond eye the withered leaf was beau- 
 tiful and the folded bloom was precious. He who 
 yearned toward the waiting crowd, and bore humanity 
 up in his daily prayers for God's blessing, paused m his 
 grand career to throw his arms around a little child and 
 cherish a rose it had plucked for him. 
 
 Another keepsake of his was so humble a piece of 
 mechanism as a bootjack, over which a poor mechanic 
 had spent affectionate and grateful hours to serve and 
 please his pastor. At length its maker was brought to 
 the Chapin Home in poverty, to spend the rest of his 
 days amid the aged ones there cared for. " In his final 
 sickness," writes Mrs. Wallace, then matron of the in- 
 stitution, " Chapin often visited him, and, coming a 
 day or two before he died, read to him from the Bible 
 and prayed with him ; and, on bidding him good-by, 
 said : ' Brother Inglee, I have something to remind me 
 of you, — a bootjack you made for me many years ago, 
 which I shall prize more highly than ever when you 
 are absent from us.' ' Have you got that yet ? ' said the 
 old gentleman with a glad expression in his eyes. That 
 night I watched with him, and many times did he speak 
 
296 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 of it, — so many times, I at last asked him to tell me all 
 about it. ' Well,' said the old man, ' I got just as nice 
 a piece of mahogany as I could find and made that 
 thing, and put two rows of brass nails on the edge. It 
 was handsome. I took it to him one New Year's day. 
 He seemed pleased, but did not say much. I have often 
 wondered if he used it. But he has; and to think that 
 he should speak of it now ! ' Afterward I spoke to Dr. 
 Chapin about it, saying : ' Your prayer and visit were a 
 great comfort to Brother Inglee, but the mentioning of 
 that bootjack did him more good than either.' " 
 
 Another touching little picture Mrs. Wallace has 
 painted in which the warm tint of love is conspic- 
 uous. " There was at the Chapin Home," she writes, 
 " an aged and poor Scotch lady, a member of the 
 Doctor's church, and made comfortable by it during 
 her last days. Mrs. Chapin and I had watched with 
 her, and, seeing the end was near, Mrs. Chapin said : 
 ' I will go home and notify the Doctor before he leaves 
 on his lecturing tour, for I do not thhik she will last 
 during the day.' He came, prayed with her, and, bid- 
 ding her good-by, said comforting words to her, mean- 
 while laying his hand gently on her head. Almost 
 her last words were these : ' His voice was sae sweet, 
 his prayer sae comforting, but aye, that hand on my 
 head ! ' The daughter of this old lady, a school-teacher, 
 and the mainstay of her mother, had died a year pre- 
 vious. She was sick a long time. Dr. Chapin was very 
 attentive to her. She often spoke of his visits and of 
 his kindness to her. I well remember his offering my 
 husband money to supply her wants, and asking him to 
 get her a rocking-chair, as she was sitting up in a hard. 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 297 
 
 low-backed chair." " It was to the poor, the sick, and 
 the dying," Mrs. Wallace adds, "that ]\Ir. Chapin showed 
 a tenderness and sympathy of the rarest type." Jt is 
 also the testimony of Mrs. Jameson, one of his most 
 intimate friends, at whose home it was his custom to 
 take his Monday lunch, that " the kindness of his heart 
 was seen in the time of trouble and sorrow, and for that 
 sympathy every one loved him. I never knew him to 
 neglect to visit any one when in trouble, and especially 
 the poor." 
 
 While making a brief European trip in 1872, one of 
 the members of his Sunday-school, Elsie M. Odell, had 
 fallen sick and died. Her funeral was attended by Eev. 
 Charles Fluhrer of the Universalist Church in Harlem. 
 On his return ]\Ir. Chapin, having learned before sailing 
 from the other shore of the Atlantic, or directly on land- 
 mg in New York, of the sorrow which had befallen one 
 of his families, ordered his carriage to be driven to the 
 home of the afflicted before permitting himself to be 
 taken to his own residence. It may well be doubted if 
 one preacher in many thousands would have been 
 thus overruled by his sympathy with sorrow, and been 
 borne from the welcome waiting him at his own door, 
 to mingle his prayers and tears with the sad ones in 
 whose house was a vacant chair. " It sho\AS the large, 
 tender-heartedness of the man," as Mr. Eluhrer truly 
 observes, "and that love was his only directing impulse 
 for the time being." 
 
 The sight of a stranger in humble circumstances and 
 in evident need was sure to arrest his attention and 
 enlist his sympathy, and he was often a prompt volun- 
 teer in the noble army of helpers. There appeared in 
 
298 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 the "New York Tribune," soon after his kind heart had 
 ceased to beat, the following letter, which is an inter- 
 esting part of the general eulogy then pronounced on 
 him : — 
 
 To THE Editor of the Tribune : — 
 
 Sir, — I would like to lay a fragrant little flower upon the 
 grave of the great and good man who has gone out of the 
 Church of the Divine Paternity into the Church of the 
 Saints above. Men are known, not from their public utter- 
 ances, or their professional work of whatever kind, but from 
 their unstudied acts among those to whom they can never 
 look for favors, either of applause or advancement ; and it is 
 from a side view into the simpledieartedness of the man, un- 
 der circumstances Avhich left no doubt of utter spontaneity, 
 that I have been able for a long time to place an estimate 
 upon Dr. Chapin's character, which I could not otherwise 
 have obtained. I happened, some ten years ago, to be on a 
 Hudson River railroad train going to Albany. In ray car, a 
 few seats ahead of me, sat Dr. Chapin, buried in books and 
 newspapers, and apparently so absorbed as to be impervious to 
 ordinary sights and sounds. On the opposite side of the 
 car were two untravelled countrymen, who seemed, from their 
 fitful conversation, to be at a loss as to the station they should 
 stop at, and the means of reaching their destination. Their 
 remarks were not obtrusive, and they seemed to have a deli- 
 cacy about troubling any one with inquiries, and yet it was 
 easy to see that they were in a serious quandary. The ordi- 
 nary traveller, who prides himself on attending to his own 
 business and letting other people do the same, would find 
 this a good opportunity to put his maxim in practice. Not 
 so Dr. Chapin. He laid his books and papers quietly aside, 
 crossed the aisle and pleasantly accosted the countrymen. 
 After getting at their difficulty he explained to them in the 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 299 
 
 most clear and painstaking waj the course to pursue, leaving 
 notliing whatever to be inferred. He then went back to his 
 seat, and in a moment was buried in his reading, evidently 
 thinking nothing of what he had done, but feeling that sort 
 of relief wliich comes from knowing that some one else is 
 relieved. Had he but glanced at the faces of the men he 
 Avould have been amply repaid for his trouble, but this would 
 have been too much like exacting some return for a service 
 he could not help but render. Little did the countrymen 
 know who had so kindly served them, but I did, and it was 
 to me the best sermon I ever enjoyed from the great preacher 
 and greater man. 
 
 Amid another scene we witness his interest in the 
 lowly and the obscure. At the close of one of liis 
 lyceum lectures he met his old friend the Rev, Mr, 
 Grosh, in whose home and editorial office, many years 
 before, he spent happy days at Utica. " So eager was 
 he," writes Mr. Grosh, "to learn of his office-companions, 
 that he seemed quite indifferent to the distinguished 
 people around him, who were waiting for an introduc- 
 tion. His heart was lost in the recollection of the 
 humble friends of his early life." 
 
 As thi'ough a keyhole we can see the distant moun- 
 tain looming in its massive glory, so through a tender 
 word, a little favorite story, we may discover the great- 
 ness of a human heart. Unspeakable may be the credit 
 that lies behind a smile, or that is revealed in so trivial 
 an act as relating an incident. The glory of Abraham 
 Lincoln, made conspicuous in that high hour when he 
 enjoined love toward all and malice toward none, was 
 seen in a more distant view, but in no diminished lustre, 
 as he retold for the twentieth time some little anec- 
 
300 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 dote in which a tender sentiment made the turning- 
 point, tlie golden hinge, to his loving eye. And thus 
 was the kindness of Chapin's heart seen in favorite 
 stories as in a mirror. Of these a single one, reported 
 by Mrs. Jameson as having been often repeated at her 
 lunch-table, will serve as a sample. A rich man and 
 his son met a poor German and his dog. The rich 
 man's son took a fancy to the poor man's dog, and 
 asked his father to buy it for him. The father's reply, 
 that it was only a cur and not worth the having, did 
 not check the lad's importunity ; and the man turned 
 , to the poor German and asked him for what money he 
 would sell his dog, and got the touching reply : " It is, 
 sir, only one cheap dog, worth no money, but you could 
 not buy it ; for the wag of that dog's tail when I come 
 home I would not sell for all your money." The ten- 
 derness of the little story made it very pleasing to the 
 heart of Mr. Chapin, and by each repetition of it he 
 revealed his sympathy with the poor man in his love 
 for his homely cur. 
 
 With all this love in his soul, running broadly lilce a 
 river in his regular work, and rippling like musical 
 brooks in his private hours, he still wore the seeming of 
 coldness sometimes toward those he met, — holding his 
 lips sealed when words were looked for, moving bruskly 
 away when it was expected he would linger, and va- 
 riously running counter to the usages which an ideal 
 courtesy demands. At times his social habit seemed to 
 do violence to the law of his life as it appeared in his 
 general thought and spirit, and in countless little ex- 
 hibitions of the chief grace. It was much as if the 
 sun should at times move before us like a darkened orb. 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 301 
 
 It is the testimony of one who knew and loved him 
 well, the Eev. Dr. Atwood of the Canton Theological 
 School, that "he was not a particularly approachable 
 man. He had his friends and favorites with whom he 
 was as cordial and companionable as a boy; but he 
 was not easy in general society, nor did he appear to 
 care to meet strangers or to make new acquaintances. 
 Many who admired and loved him from afar were baf- 
 fled in any attempt to cultivate familiarity." 
 
 How shall we account for his appearance thus in two 
 roles, — in one of which the heart gave the chief inspi- 
 ration, and in the other of which it failed to move him ? 
 How could he be at one hour so luminous with the light 
 of love, and at another hour so seemingly destitute of this 
 finer radiance ? Here is indeed a problem to be solved, 
 a paradox to be explained. It was said in the chapter 
 on Chapin at Charlestown, that a "tendency began 
 to make its appearance which proved at once a good 
 and an evil, a source of applause and of reproach, and 
 which, no doubt, led to the first break in his health. 
 It w-as a tendency to an undue absorption or engross- 
 ment in the theme that occupied him." Both temper- 
 ament and the demands laid upon him conspired to 
 draw him thus into moods of self-exaltation and almost 
 of morbid frenzy, in which the outside world fell from 
 his view, and he met friends and strangers, as if he 
 met them not, or, at least, gave them but a cold and 
 compelled notice. He had no ill-will toward them, but 
 was simply oblivious in their presence. He was in his 
 own world of thought and feeling, and was held there 
 by a law of engrossment, of whose sway the ordinary 
 temperament knows but little, and the man of few and 
 
302 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 liglit tasks almost nothing. In these rapt hours he 
 seemed to lack the capacity to flee from himself, even 
 to heed so imperious a demand as that of social cour- 
 tesy, and friends and strangers alike shared the apparent 
 neglect. Says Professor Tweed, one of his best friends : 
 " I never suspected Chapin of losing his heart for me, but 
 I have met him many times when he made no show of 
 it." He was the victim of abstraction, the slave of his 
 reigning idea and impulse. " His head was so full of 
 what he was thinking about, that all else was crowded 
 out," is the statement of Mr. ]\Iarshall, for thirty years 
 one of his parishioners. On Sunday mornings the social 
 instinct and the gift of conversation seemed to forsake 
 him, and whoever met him before he ascended his pul- 
 pit was likely to have an interview which, though it 
 might not disturb one who knew him well, could 
 hardly fail to astonish and trouble a stranger. And 
 even after the service was closed by his benediction the 
 enchaining spell often rested on him, and he was not 
 easily got at for anything more than a shake of the 
 hand. Strangers often wondered at the impetuous haste 
 with which he left them as they lingered to greet him 
 and say some words of grateful praise ; even those who 
 had some claim to notice might not fare any better than 
 others in their efforts to gain it. He was still m the 
 midst of his mental and emotional maelstrom, and, if 
 not entirely oblivious of the laws of etiquette, his was 
 not that calm frame of mind that would permit him to 
 properly regard them. He was still swept on by an 
 unspent ardor that made an easy and deliberate conver- 
 sation quite impossible. 
 
 But on another ground we may account, in part, for 
 
WAYSIDE HUMANITIES. 303 
 
 Chapin's seeming recoil from friends and strangers, thus 
 disappointing their desire and expectation. What he 
 could not do with a heat and enthusiasm, he could not 
 do well or with pleasure, and shrunk from attempting 
 to do ; hence he was not himself and not happy in ordi- 
 nary conversation, and was indeed almost incapable of 
 it. It was hammering at cold iron, and he was consti- 
 tuted for w^orking metal only when it was raised to a 
 white heat. The process was too slow, the results too 
 trivial. Since he had not the patience for it, it was to 
 him i sort of martyrdom, and so he fled from it as the 
 warm-blooded animal flies from the chill of the northern 
 air. He was a poor conversationist, in the ordinary 
 sense of that word, and felt embarrassed when subjected 
 to the necessity of a commonplace colloquy ; and, with- 
 out meaning any disrespect to others, but unconsciously 
 following the bias of his spirit, he would often make an 
 ungraceful retreat from a desired interview. " Even in 
 our ministers' meetings," says Eev, Dr. Pullman, "we 
 had to start Chapin by some special impulse in order to 
 have his voice heard." "He needed one like himself to 
 converse with," says one who knew hmi well. By a 
 high theme or a happy story he could always be kindled 
 and drawn out, and rendered a marvel of brilliance and 
 gladness ; but for a chat about such trifles as make the 
 staple of ordinary conversation he was disqualified. He 
 seemed under some inborn necessity of being great and 
 conspicuous, or of being nothing and standing apart 
 from the gaze of watching eyes. 
 
 He was also smitten by the ancient and recent in- 
 firmity of bashfulness. There was a shyness in his 
 blood that led him to a desire to escape from the eyes 
 
304 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 which were too closely fixed upon him. " Bashf ulness," 
 said Aristotle, " is an ornament in youth, and a reproach 
 in old age;" but if this latter charge be true — which 
 may well be doubted — it is a reproach they cannot 
 escape whose ancestors have forced on them the shrink- 
 ing fibre. Nature is steadily perverse and refuses to 
 yield her whims even ; and so they who are born in 
 bashfulness will die in bashfulness. They can never 
 lay off the sensitive mantle in which fate has robed 
 them. And in Dr. Chapin we have only another in- 
 stance of genius loving best its own hidden sphere, or 
 its chosen work, with a familiar friend or two. 
 
 It is to be further said of his seeming lack of affabil- 
 ity toward strangers, that it may have grown into a 
 sort of habit in his later years, when his fame drew 
 toward him, in addition to the persons who miglit fitly 
 seek his presence, an army of curiosity-mongers, venti- 
 lators of vapid schemes, hunters of autographs, and 
 social imbeciles. "A tedious person," said Ben Jonson, 
 " is one a man would leap a steeple from ; " and not a 
 few of this sort turned their feet to Dr. Chapin's door, 
 or confronted him on the streets, and he was obliged to 
 practise a degree of social fencmg in justice to himself 
 and his great worlc. 
 
 But after the view we have had of Chapin's humanity, 
 — in its scope like the arch of the sky, and in its details 
 like the sweet flowers that spring up by hidden paths, — it 
 is hardly needful that we detain the reader with an ex- 
 planation of a seeming discrepancy in his life in this 
 particular. His general spirit and work of love — broad 
 as his life, at once the heart of his eloquence and the 
 inspiration of his toil, — is his sufficient defence, and the 
 brightest jewel in the crown of his fame. 
 
XX. 
 
 HIS POETEY. 
 
 " Sad is his lot who, once at least in his life, has not 
 been a poet," says Lamartine ; and we must believe 
 there are few of the better order of minds that pass the 
 romantic age between childhood and maturity without 
 at some moment dallying with the muse. Many of 
 these only write clandestinely, and timidly and fondly 
 read the rhymes to which a mystic warmth in the 
 heart has given shape. It is likely that an equal num- 
 ber for once or twice aspire to that extent of publicity 
 afforded by a newspaper corner. With a small group 
 of the poetic band the sweet flame is less ephemeral ; 
 the eye continues longer "in a fine frenzy rolling," 
 and more ambitious flights are ventured. But or- 
 dinarily the short-lived bloom of the tree in spring, 
 wdiich soon gives place to the soberer tasks of growing 
 leaves and fruit, is the symbol of the poetic outburst of 
 early life. But we may well rejoice, as Lamartine sug- 
 gests, that even for a day or an hour only the soul falls 
 in love with the Muse and essays the divine art of 
 poetry ; for never after will the fine sensibilities then 
 felt, the romantic tints then discovered in earth and 
 sky, the radiant hopes in mortal progress and immortal 
 glory then cherished, the sense of the divine then ex- 
 
 20 
 
306 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 perienced, fade wholly away and leave life quite as 
 prosy as it would otherwise have been. If 
 
 " 'Tis better to have loved and lost, 
 Than never to have loved at all," 
 
 — the experience remaining as an enchanting memory 
 and an unspent tenderness, — so there is a real blessing to 
 all after years, when toils and cares press on the hands 
 and the heart, from these youthful poetic visions and 
 raptures. 
 
 In the large group of those who have given some 
 hours in the morning of life to the making of poetry 
 stood Dr. Chapin ; and his success so far transcends the 
 ordinary achievements in this province that it merits a 
 passing consideration in this record of his life. 
 
 The celerity of his mind — seeing at a glance the rhym- 
 ing possibilities of the language, the words which mate 
 in a vocal harmony — and the musical sense of his ear 
 made him in early life a constant rhymster. He may 
 indeed have j)rattled in rhyme. At twelve years of age 
 he made rhythmic jingles for his amusement as a broker's 
 errand-boy, and read them to a comrade to divide with 
 him their charm of melody, which must have been 
 about their only charm ; and at fifteen he was poet to 
 the Siddonian Club. In his academy days higher 
 poetic gifts opened out, and for a few years he wrote 
 lyrics in which he gave signs of promise as a poet. 
 
 For the beautiful in nature and life he had a poet's 
 love. With a true poetical temperament he touched 
 the divme, and lingered fondly on the confines of 
 mystery. " If," as Goethe says, " it does not injure 
 the poet to be superstitious," he shared also a degree of 
 that merit. Like a poet he was tender, pathetic, un- 
 
HIS POETRY. 307 
 
 passioned, and so blessed with ideality, fancy, imagina- 
 tion, the creative instincts, that he could glorify the 
 common, and turn every scene into romantic aspects. 
 
 But his defeat as a great poet, had he pursued the 
 high calling, would most likely have been brought 
 about by the ardor and haste of his impulses, which 
 would have refused to wait for a constructive or 
 Miltonic imagination, had he shared it, to work out its 
 vast and sublime pictures. He probably lacked the 
 patience and repose of the great poet, of whom Mr. 
 Emerson says : — 
 
 " God, who gave to liim the lyre, 
 Of all mortals the desire, 
 For all breathing men's behoof, 
 Straightly charged him, Sit aloof." 
 
 But Chapin could hardly have obeyed this divine com- 
 mand, to which all the great poets — from Plato in his 
 grove. Homer in his unknown nook, IMilton in his 
 blindness, Tennyson and Whittier and Longfellow in 
 tVieir solitudes — have been obedient. He was a life rush- 
 ing into passion and expression, and his vehemence 
 would have caused him to overleap that long interval 
 of brooding over his theme and the dawning of remoter 
 lights and grander visions, in which all great and en- 
 dearing poetry has been written. His genius was too 
 eager to permit him to be a master-builder with the im- 
 agination, and his pictures are flashes rather than 
 labored and overpowering creations of the poetic art. 
 Even a sustained allegory or colloquy in composition 
 would have been beyond his power, by reason of its 
 slowness of process. Hence his poetry, which is rich in 
 fancy, charming in iljs lyrical and musical qualities. 
 
308 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 ideal in tenderness and pathos, pure and noble in. senti- 
 ment, — flies the deeper depths in which the famous 
 poets have found their power and from which they 
 command the mind and heart of the ages. 
 
 Chapin was a lover of a musical refrain or cadence 
 at the end of a stanza, and wrote several poems in this 
 style. Of this we have a sample in the following quo- 
 tation from a pleasing little poem given as a valedictory 
 at the close of his academic life at Bennmgton, which 
 was also at the close of a school term : — 
 
 Things of earth should ne'er enslave us, — 
 
 Earthly things are all but dross ; 
 But like Him who died to save us, 
 
 May we humbly bear the cross ; 
 Dear companions, 
 
 May we humbly bear the cross. 
 
 Then resisting each temptation, 
 
 Onward for the heavenly prize ! 
 Oh ! secure the gi"eat salvation, 
 
 Seek a home beyond the skies ; 
 Dear companions, 
 
 Seek a home beyond the skies. 
 
 An obscure scene of suffering or sorrow, glorified by 
 some touch of beauty, by some triumph of love, or by 
 some great light of faith shining through it, was to him 
 a favorite theme around which to place a poetic wreath. 
 In his own experience he may have felt the truthfulness 
 of the wise saying of Donne : " He tames grief that 
 fetters it in verse ; " or with Tennyson he may have 
 found that 
 
 *' For the unquiet heart and brain 
 
 A use in measured language lies, — 
 The sad mechanic exercise 
 Like dull narcotics numbing pain." 
 
HIS POETRY. 309 
 
 As by instinct he allied pathos with poetry ; and many 
 of his songs begin in the minor key, but sing themselves 
 into a major strain before they reach their close, the 
 muse seeming to serve him as a comforter. Of this 
 order is his poem entitled — 
 
 THE ITALIAN GIRL. 
 
 She lay by tli' open window. Calmly fell 
 
 The liist, faint shadow of the coming death 
 
 Upon her pallid countenance ; and passed, 
 
 Slowly and sadly, from her full, dark eye 
 
 The light of life and beauty. It was not 
 
 An unexpected messenger wdio breathed 
 
 A chill and blighting o'er her throbbing heart, 
 
 And called her spirit from commune with earth 
 
 To its far home of glory. She had known 
 
 Of its approach, and watched — nay, wished — the time 
 
 That brought its solemn coming ; and she bowed 
 
 In silent and in sweet humility, 
 
 When the strange thrill that shot across her frame 
 
 Told her that shadowy messenger was there. 
 
 Yes, she was ready. There was but one tie 
 That held her soul to earth, and that was twined 
 In the fond, bursting heart of one who stood 
 In agony beside her dying couch. 
 Shedding thick-falling tears upon her brow. 
 It was her mother ; but e'en this dear tie 
 Faith taught her how to sever, and blest Hope ; 
 Told her would reunite in j'onder heaven. 
 
 Her story was a simple one. She was 
 A flower of Italy, the soft, bright land 
 Of sunlight and of music. She had grown 
 In humble beauty 'neath a mother's care — 
 For years the sole light of that mother's home. 
 Retired, she lived thus, till she saw and loved 
 And wed a stranger from our western clime. 
 
310 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 With him and that loved mother then she left 
 The scenes and shrines of childhood, for the land 
 Of him who won her love. A gale arose 
 Upon their voyage. The ship survived its j)ower ; 
 But ten, whose forms had glided o'er its deck, 
 Slept in an ocean sepulchre. And he 
 ■ Among them ! He, her hope, her very heart, 
 Was swept beneath the billow and the storm ! 
 They came here. With the little they had saved 
 From once-sufficient wealth, they bought a home — 
 A pleasant cottage home. There she, of whom 
 We tell this gentle story, day by day, 
 Was wasting with no visible disease, 
 But with a growing sickness of the heart ; 
 And though, at first, they fondly hoped again 
 To tread their birth-land, and to look upon 
 Its vineyards and its beauty, and that she 
 Might pass to rest beside tlie hallowed graves 
 Where slept her kindred — yet that happy dream 
 Soon faded, and she bowed herself to die 
 Calmly, as we have seen, with a blest faith 
 Bright'ning with every moment, and a hope 
 Fledging new pinions for her struggling soul. 
 
 And thus she lay till, startled by the tears 
 That on her forehead fell so fi-equently, 
 She raised her eyes with a sweet, patient smile, 
 And to her mother breathed these gentle strains : 
 
 " I am dying, dearest mother ; I am going to that land 
 Where our loved that went before me dwell, a blest and glorious 
 
 band. 
 Weep not, dear mother, but let faith still make thy spirit strong, 
 For in that clime of happiness we '11 meet again ere long. 
 
 " I know you'll want me, mother — your hearth will be so dim 
 When you see no more my cherished form — and you '11 miss my 
 
 evening hymn ; 
 And my voice no more will blend in prayer, nor breathe above my 
 
 lute ; 
 To you 'twill seem all pleasant tones of joy and hope are mute. 
 
HIS POETRY. 311 
 
 " And oh ! I've yearned to look once more upon bright Italy, 
 Where the golden sunlight ever rests and the soft winds float so free ; 
 'Twould have been so grateful to have died among my native bowers, 
 And passed down gently to my grave, mid the music and the flowers. 
 
 " But I'm going to a brighter clime, a home that beams for me 
 With a light so pure that mortal eye may never hope to see, — 
 Where radiant streams roll fresh along, * fast by the throne of God,' 
 Mid harps and songs, an angel laud, by blessed spirits trod. 
 
 " Oh ! earth was dark and hopes were crushed, and my spirit's depths 
 
 were sad. 
 Till God lifted up his countenance, and all was light and glad ; 
 Then be thy heart not desolate ; on thy vision, pure and free. 
 His light, who lighteth all, will shine, — in Him thy trust shall be. 
 
 " Weep not, weep not, for time and death, they cannot long divide ; 
 Soon, dearest mother, thou wilt rest in the green grave by my side. 
 Let these parting words be sweet to thee as some bright seraph's 
 
 song : 
 Thou wilt follow me, dear mother — we shall meet again ere long ! " 
 
 It was at 
 The gorgeous time of sunset, and the hues 
 Of many glories lingered in the skies, 
 And filled the earth with beauty and with smiles. 
 Through the small lattice of a cottage-room, 
 The solemn sunbeams rested. Solemn ? Ay — 
 It was the room of death. There knelt and bowed 
 That mother by her dead Italian girl ! 
 
 Go, search the scroll of history ; go, read 
 
 The cenotaphs that laud the mighty dead ; 
 
 Bring record of all proud triumphant deaths : 
 
 The warrior in the red fight cloven down, 
 
 'Mid helms and glaives and banners, and with smiles 
 
 Grasping his wreath of glory, — or the sage, 
 
 Unshrinking, cold, and passionless, enwrapt 
 
 Within his mantle, " sitting down to die " — • 
 
 Bring all of these and others' dying hours, 
 
 And show one trait so calm, so beautiful 
 
 With heaven's own beauty, as the Christian's death. 
 
312 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 His poem on the Battle of Bennington, which he re- 
 cited with great effect, while yet in his youth, at a 
 celebration of that important event by citizens of the 
 region, is entitled to a high place as a battle-song. Its 
 spirit is truly patriotic, its movement lofty and heroic, 
 its historical references apt, and its grateful tribute to 
 the men who fought for the cause of liberty is as full of 
 feeling as it is of dignity. The following stanzas well 
 describe the humble aspects but heroic temper of the 
 ranks as they marched to the field, and the spirit of 
 their brave commander, and fairly represent the entire 
 composition: — 
 
 Theirs was no gorgeous panoply, 
 
 No sheen of silk or gold ^ 
 No wrought device of battle blazed 
 
 Upon their standard-fold ; 
 But the free banner of their hills 
 
 Waved proudly through the sfonn, 
 And the soiled garb of husbandry 
 
 Was round each warrior-form. 
 
 They came nf>, at the battle sound, 
 
 To old Walloomsac'S height : 
 Behind them were their iields of toil, 
 
 With harvest-promise white , — 
 Before them, those who sought to wrest 
 
 Their hallowed birthright dear ; 
 While through their ranks went fearlessly 
 
 Their leader's words of cheer. 
 
 "My men ! — there stand our freedom's foes, 
 
 And shall they stand, or fall ? 
 Ye have your weapons in your hands, 
 
 Ye know your duty, all. 
 For me, this day we triumph o'er 
 
 Yon minions of the Crown, 
 Or Molly Stark a widow is 
 
 Ere yonder sun goes down ! " 
 
HIS POETRY. 313 
 
 One thought of heaven, one thought of home, 
 
 One thouglit of hearth and shrine ; 
 Then, roek-like, stood they in their might 
 
 Before the glittering line. 
 A moment, and each keen eye paused, 
 
 The coming foe to mark, — 
 Then downward to its barrel glanced, 
 
 And strife was wild and dark. 
 
 But let the reader turn from this stately and solemn 
 war-song, to another which celebrates the final reign of 
 peace, and note the fitting jubilancy that enters into its 
 measure and spirit. Chapin's fine sensibility guided 
 him to a true poetic art. This poem is based on the 
 words of Isaiah : " And they shall beat their swords 
 into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks ; 
 nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither 
 shall they learn war any more ; " and one may almost 
 fancy that the great prophet himself would gladly have 
 heard this echo of his utterance ! 
 
 There sweeps a rush of armies past with banners proud and high, 
 And clarions waft their thrilling strains triumphant to the sky : 
 No dread munition in their ranks, no fearful steel, they bear ; 
 No " warrior-garments rolled in blood," no panoply they wear ; 
 But on each brow the olive-wreath is twining fresh and gi-een, 
 And in each lifted eye the light of peace and joy is seen. 
 
 Gay barks, with music on their decks and pennons to the breeze, 
 And silks and gold and spices rare are out on foamy seas : 
 Safely their bright prows cleave the waves ; there is no foe to fear ; 
 No murderous sliot, no rude attack, no vengeful crew is near. 
 "Where battle strode o'er ruined heaps, and carnage shook its brand. 
 And red blood gushed, the purple grapes and clustering harvest stand ; 
 And dews from bending branches drip and quiver in the flowers, 
 And merry groujis are rushing out from cots and shady bovvers : 
 " There is no sword our hearths to stain, no flame our roofs to spoil ; 
 Tiiere are no robber-hordes to seize the treasures of our toil : 
 
314 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 Ho ! sing ye, then, the harvest-song, and twist the viny leaves, 
 And let your shining sickles laugh among the plumy sheaves ; — 
 The falchions we '11 to ploughshares turn, the days of strife are o'er ; 
 The spears we '11 heat to pruning-hooks, there shall he war no more ! " 
 
 Nation with nation strives no more : the golden chain of love. 
 
 Through the wide earth, links soul to soul, descending from above ; 
 
 The Indian by his hundred streams, the Tartar in his snows, 
 
 The Ethiop 'neath the burning sun, its gentle impulse knows. 
 
 From every tribe, in kneeling ranks, upon the silent air. 
 
 Up to the Throne of Thrones, go forth the sacred words of prayer : 
 
 "All praise to Him whose hand alone, whose own right hand hath 
 
 done 
 This blessed work, and made the hearts of all his children one ! " 
 Then, like the strains Ephratah heard hymned by the angel choir, 
 From every lip a song breaks forth and sweeps o'er every lyre. 
 The peopled mart, the temple-arch sends out the jubilee ; 
 It echoes from the forest-shrines and green isles of the sea : 
 " Our falchions we '11 to ploughshares turn, — -the days of strife are o'er ; 
 Our spears we '11 beat to iJruning-hooks, — there shall be war no 
 
 more ! " 
 
 Dr. Chapin's muse did not desert liim even in the 
 earliest years of his ministry, and he wrote a few hymns 
 which will be likely to hold a permanent place among 
 the favorites for special occasions in Church work. It 
 was said by Wordsworth that " Poetry is most just to 
 its divine origin when it administers the comforts and 
 breathes the thoughts of religion," and it was Chapin's 
 special gift to make it the oracle of the soul. In spiri- 
 tual lyrics or hymnology he would have found his true 
 vein as a poet, and we may justly regret that he did not 
 add more hymns to the number he has left for the use 
 of the Church. In their elevation of tone and spirit, as 
 well as in their free and musical flow and their felicity 
 of rhymes, his hymns remind us of Moore, Bowring, 
 and Pierpont. 
 
HIS POETRY. 315 
 
 ORDINATION". 
 
 Father ! at this altar bending, 
 
 Set our hearts from world-thoughts free ; 
 Prayer and praise their incense blending, 
 
 May our rites accepted be : 
 Father hear us, 
 
 Gently draw our souls to Thee. 
 
 Deign to smile upon this union 
 
 Of a pastor and a Hock ; 
 Sweet and blest be their communion : 
 
 May he sacred truths unlock, — 
 And this people 
 
 Plant their feet on Christ the Rock. 
 
 Be his life a living sermon, 
 
 Be his thoughts one ceaseless prayer 
 Like the dews that fell on Hermon, 
 
 Making gi-een the foliage there, 
 May his teachings 
 
 Drop on souls beneath his care. 
 
 Here may sin repent its straying, 
 Here may grief forget to weep ; 
 
 Here may hope, its light displajang, 
 And blest faith — their vigils keep, 
 
 And the dj'ing 
 Pass from hence in Christ to sleep. 
 
 When Ms heart shall cease its motion. 
 All its toils and conflicts o'er ; 
 
 When tliey for an unseen ocean, 
 
 One by one, shall leave the shore, — 
 
 Pastor, people, there, in heaven, 
 ISIay they meet to part no more. 
 
316 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 FOR A CHAEITY MEETING. 
 
 When long the soul had slept in chains, 
 
 And man to man was stern and cold ; 
 "When love and worship were but strains 
 
 That swept the gifted chords of old, — 
 By shady mount and peaceful lake, 
 
 A meek and lowly stranger came ; 
 The weary drank the words he spake, 
 
 The poor and feeble blessed his name. 
 
 No shrine he reared in porch or grove, 
 No vested priests around him stood ; 
 
 He went about to teach, and prove 
 The lofty work of doing good. 
 
 Said he to those who with him trod : 
 " Would ye be my disciples ? Then 
 
 Evince your ardent love for God 
 By the kind deeds ye do for men." 
 
 He went where frenzy held its rule. 
 
 Where sickness breathed its spell of pain, ■ 
 By famed Bethesda's mystic pool, 
 
 And by the daikened gate of Nain. 
 He soothed the mourner's troubled breast. 
 
 He raised the contrite sinner's head ; 
 And on the loved one's lowly rest 
 
 The light of better life he shed. 
 
 Father, the spirit Jesus knew, 
 
 We humbly ask of thee to-night. 
 That we may be disciples too 
 
 Of him whose way was love and light. 
 Bright be the places where we ti'ead 
 
 Amid earth's suffering and its poor, 
 Till we shall come where tears are shed 
 
 And broken sighs are heard no more. 
 
HIS POETRY. 317 
 
 CHRISTMAS. 
 
 Hark ! hark ! with harps of gold, 
 
 What anthem do they sing — 
 The radiant clouds have backward rolled, 
 
 And angels smite the string. 
 " Glory to God ! " — bright wings 
 
 Spread glistening and afar, 
 And on the hallowed rapture rings 
 
 From circling star to star. 
 
 " Glory to God ! " repeat 
 
 The glad earth and the sea ; 
 And every wind and billow fleet 
 Bears on the jubilee. 
 Where Hebrew bard hath sung. 
 Or Hebrew seer hath trod. 
 Each holy spot has fouud a tongue : 
 "Let glory be to God." 
 
 Soft swells the music now 
 
 Along that shining choir. 
 And every seraph bends his brow 
 
 And breathes above his lyre 
 
 What words of heavenly birth 
 
 Thrill deep our hearts again. 
 And fall like dewdrops to the earth ? 
 " Peace and good- will to men ! " 
 
 Soft ! — yet the soul is bound 
 
 With rapture, like a chain ; 
 Earth, vocal, whispers them around. 
 
 And heaven repeats the strain. 
 
 Sound, harps, and hail the morn 
 
 With every golden string, 
 For unto us this day is born 
 
 A Saviour and a King ! 
 
318 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 DUKING OR AFTER A STORM. 
 
 Amid surrounding gloom and waste, 
 
 From Nature's face we flee ; 
 And in our fear and wonder haste, 
 
 Nature's Life, to thee ! 
 Thy ways are in the mighty deep, 
 
 Thy tempests as they blow. 
 In floods that o'er our treasures sweep. 
 
 The lightning, and the snow. 
 
 Though earth upon its axis reels. 
 
 And heaven is veiled in wrath. 
 Not one of Nature's million wheels 
 
 Breaks its appointed path. 
 Fixed in thy grasp, the sources meet 
 
 Of beauty and of awe ; 
 In storm or calm all pulses beat 
 
 True to the central law. 
 
 Thou art that law, whose will — thus done 
 
 In seeming wreck and blight — 
 Sends the calm planet round the sun, 
 
 And j)ours the moon's soft light. 
 We ti'ust thy love ; thou best dost know 
 
 The universal peace, — 
 How long the stormy force should blow, 
 
 And when the flood should cease. 
 
 And though around our path some form 
 
 Of mystery ever lies, 
 And life is like the calm and storm 
 
 That checker earth and skies. 
 Through all its mingling joy and dread, 
 
 Permit us, Holy One, 
 By faith to see the golden thread 
 
 Of thy great purpose run. 
 
HIS POETRY. 319 
 
 It is a current tradition that Dr. Chapin wrote this last 
 hymn during a thunder-storm. It has also been said 
 that he wrote it at sea, at the close of a tempest which 
 all on shipboard despaired of outriding. These render- 
 ings of history are impressive, but they are as untrue 
 as they are romantic. The real fact in the case is given 
 by Eev. John G. Adams : — 
 
 The hymu was written in my study at Maiden, where 
 most of the work of compiling our hymu book was done by 
 us. It was in July, in the afternoon of a very hot day. We 
 were Bearing the end of the afternoon's work, and were 
 about closing up our package of copy for the printer, when 
 in searching for a hymn to be placed in the miscellaneous 
 department, suitable to be sung during or after a destructive 
 storm, we could find none, in the many other books we had 
 used, which satisfied us. As I had written one hymn myself 
 expressly for the book, I now solicited Mr. Chapin to furnish 
 one in this emergency. I was not surprised that he objected, 
 considering the oppressive heat and his weariness ; but my 
 plea — and his willingness to do the best under the circum- 
 stances — prevailed ; and applying himself to the task, he soon 
 wrought out that admirable hymn. 
 
XXL 
 
 HIS WIT. 
 
 A Chapter on Dr. Chapin's Wit revealed itself as a 
 necessity to his biography, but as a terror to his biog- 
 rapher. Like dropping a note from the musical scale 
 would be the omission from his life of this conspicuous 
 trait ; but wit is one of the dishes which must be 
 served hot or not at all, except at the risk of spoiling 
 the feast. As a note of the musical scale may be en- 
 chanting in the musical combination amid which the 
 composer has placed it, which would be quite ineffect- 
 ive as a separate tone, so wit must share the aid of 
 its accessories, or it will prove witless ; but the acces- 
 sories are often so subtle and evanescent, so impossible 
 of reproduction, that when the wit has been once 
 spoken it will thenceforth remain stale and insipid, like 
 champagne when the cork has been withdrawn. " Wit 
 is the god of the moment, but Wisdom is the god of 
 the ages," says Bruy^re. For its best effects it must 
 share the happy conditions of its origin ; but who is 
 able to reanimate with all its mercurial life a dead 
 scene? The age of miracles is past. 
 
 It has beeji the aim of the writer of these pages to per- 
 mit Dr. Chapin's pleasantries to fall into the composition 
 as they came to claim a place, hoping thus to secure 
 
HIS WIT. 321 
 
 them a more fitting surrounding and to render less 
 needful a special attention to them, witli an attempt to 
 supply the accessories. It may be that enough has al- 
 ready been contributed from the store of his wit to in- 
 dicate its type, and to give it its due prominence ; for 
 this trait in his life, conspicuous as it was, was still but 
 incidental as compared with the more serious attributes 
 which have been treated. It was only as the blossom 
 on the tree, the ripple on the broad, deep river, the 
 meteor in the wide expanse of the sky. 
 
 In Dr. Chapin the distinction between wit and humor 
 is brought into full view. If humor is like the steady 
 twinkle of the star, and wit like the sudden flash of 
 the lightning, then Chapin was no humorist, but he was 
 a wit. He was ordinarily in a grave and thoughtful 
 mood, with at least the distant shadow of a cloud on 
 his face, but he was occasionally — and especially when 
 touched by the mercurial wand of a Starr King, a 
 Beecher, or a Barnum — raised to the highest pitch of 
 frolic ; and then, to quote Mr. Beecher's words, " his 
 wit flashed like the spokes of a wheel in the sun." 
 
 The primal law of his life — that whatever he did he 
 must do with all his might, and conspicuously — reap- 
 pears in his gift of jocularity, rendering quite impossible 
 a quiet humor stealing along amid the mental activities, 
 like a king's jester in a royal procession, but making 
 it signal for rare triumphs. By his intense tempera- 
 ment he was denied the privilege of blending the serious 
 and the sportive as do the less fervid ; but in this loss of 
 versatility there was the gain of point and power, wliich 
 is always the reward of concentration, or doing one thing 
 
 at a time. 
 
 21 
 
322 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 The essence of every piece of wit is surprise, a light 
 not looked for, the disclosure of a lurking sense or un- 
 expected association, the showing of odd resemblances 
 in things unlike, or strange contrasts in things similar ; 
 and nothing of this sort, when Dr. Chapin was in a 
 merry mood, was missed by his swift eye. Since wit is 
 of the nature of a surprise, a flash, the instant arrest of 
 the mind from its foreseen path and diversion to an 
 unlooked for and eccentric association of ideas, the 
 celerity of his mental processes made him master of the 
 amusing art. Quick as lightning was his detection and 
 delivery of a piece of wit. Thus in the midst of an 
 outdoor speech at College Hill, as the cars on the Lowell 
 Railroad went thundering by only a few rods from him, 
 and confused alike speaker and hearer, he instantly ob- 
 served : " It is difficult to conduct a train of cars and a 
 train of remarks at the same time. It is a train of cir- 
 cumstances unfavorable to a train of thought." 
 
 As he was one day limping along by the aid of a 
 cane, and suffering a twinge at every step from a rheu- 
 matic foot, he was met by one who sought to engage 
 him in a religious conversation, and led off by asking 
 him if Universalists did not believe that people got 
 their punishment as they went along. " Yes, that's my 
 case exactly," • said he, and hobbled aw\ay, leaving the 
 inquirer to ponder on the wisdom of the reply. 
 
 At a Sunday-school meeting, in which Eev. Dr. Pull- 
 man gave an account of a new enterprise among his 
 teachers, — namely, the sending of a committee to visit 
 the " flats " in the neighborhood and invite the children 
 not going to any other school to attend theirs, — Dr. Cha- 
 pin rose and said : " I like the new enterprise very 
 
HIS WIT. 323 
 
 much ; but I wish that Brother Pulhnan and his teachers 
 would now choose a committee to visit the sharjjs in 
 their vicinity and get them to come to church." 
 
 Some urgent matter connected with his church led 
 the trustees to hold a meeting on Sunday, just before 
 the evening service. Their session held them beyond 
 the proper time, and they crept slily into their pews 
 as the congregation was standing and singing the hymn 
 after the prayer just preceding tlie sermon. At the 
 close of the service one of the number observed to him 
 that his trustees came m after prayers. " Well," said 
 he, " I don't know who needs to come in o/^cr prayers 
 more than my trustees." 
 
 As he was one day intently reading a poster announ- 
 cing that a famous opera company would perform Ros- 
 sini's celebrated oratorio Stabat Mater, the Rev. Dr. 
 Emerson accosted him with a salutation, and was in- 
 stantly greeted in return with this conundrum : " In 
 what respect were Rossini and Bishop Berkeley alike ? " 
 Mr. Emerson did not see the point and surrendered. 
 " Because," said Chapin, " they both made a stah at 
 matter." Berkeley was an idealist, and ruled matter 
 out of existence. 
 
 As he and a party of friends were one day riding up 
 the Catskill Mountains in an old and overloaded car- 
 riage, some one observed that one of the wheels creaked. 
 •' Oh," said Chapin, " it complains because it's tired." 
 
 He lectured one evening before the New Haven 
 Lyceum, and, desiring to take the nine o'clock train to 
 New York, found he must close his lecture a little early 
 and hasten with all despatch to the station. To save a 
 bit of hindrance he requested the audience to remain 
 
324 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CIIAPIN. 
 
 seated till lie had passed out. Closing with a grand 
 climax, he seized his manuscript and strode down the 
 aisle, but had left his hat behind. Meanwhile the 
 crowd had pressed into the pathways of exit, and ren- 
 dered the prospects of securing both his hat and the train 
 quite dubious. A friend in the hall, aware of his fix, 
 lent him his broad-briramed slouch. The next day 
 Mr. Chapin sent it back, and said in a note of gratitude 
 to his friend : " Your kindness and your hat overcame 
 me very much; both were/c//." 
 
 When he and Mr. P. T. Barnum crossed each other's 
 paths it was like the meeting of Greek and Greek, and 
 instantly the tug of war began between the famous 
 punsters. A single pass at arms must be taken as the 
 type of their many contests. Mr. Barnum held a 
 Poultry Show in the old Museum Building. After 
 three or foiu- days of exhibition, Mr. Chapin visited it, 
 but found the air around these many fowls was not as 
 salubrious as it is among the mountains in June. 
 Meeting the great showman he said to him : " I thought 
 you were going to charge more than twenty-five cents 
 for admission ; but I find you only take twenty-four." 
 " That is n't so," said Barnum, " I take twenty-five." 
 " Yes," replied Chapin, " but you give every one back 
 a scent. " 
 
 Sitting down one day on Rev. Dr. Emerson's stove- 
 pipe hat, he instantly rose and passed the crumpled 
 thing to its owner, saying : " You ought to thank me 
 for that, for your hat was only silk, but now it is 
 sat-in." 
 
 While these pieces of wit — to which many others 
 might be added — seem trivial as compared with the 
 
HIS WIT. 325 
 
 sober greatness and nobility of the man's life, and there 
 is almost a disposition to apologize for their presence 
 here, yet it must be remembered that they were a part 
 of his experience, and supply a color which is essential 
 to a complete portrait of him. His wit was fellow to 
 his wisdom, piety, humanity, imagination, enthusiasm, 
 eloquence, and must have its place in the conspicuous 
 groitp. And it is to be said to his honor, that he ever 
 carried the gift in kindness. He never turned it into 
 a sting. It was said of Ben Jonson — let us thmk, 
 wrongly — that " he would sooner lose a friend than a 
 jest ; " but no one ever had an occasion even to suspect 
 this of Dr. Chapin. Only for the pleasure of others and 
 himself did he permit his tongue to utter a witty word. 
 Nor can we fail to rejoice that the hard-working man, 
 given overmuch to solemnity and earnestness, found 
 these reliefs, and possibly a longer, as well as a happier 
 life, by reason of this play of his wit. 
 
XXII. 
 
 HIS LIBRAEY. 
 
 Few private libraries in this country have been col- 
 lected with so much of enthusiasm and liberality of 
 expenditure as was that of Dr. Chapin. He was a rare 
 patron of the booksellers ; but they loved him far less 
 for his interest in their latest bulletins and his free pur- 
 chases, than for the ready wit, the keen intelligence, 
 the fine social qualities, and the true friendship he 
 brought to their stores to enrich their deeper life. Bet- 
 ter was the good cheer he brought with him, the strong 
 thought, the swift and brilliant repartee, than the full 
 purse : and many are the pleasant reminiscences the 
 booksellers have to relate of their genial customer. 
 Around him would gather a choice group of listeners as 
 he talked of books, or discussed the questions of the 
 hour, or told the latest stories. 
 
 Dr. Chapin was not only a reader of books, but to 
 some extent a worshipper of them, and liked to have 
 around him even such as he never read. It was not 
 altogether the contents of a book that charmed him, but 
 vhe age of a volume, its history, or its scarcity, had for 
 him a pleasing effect. 
 
 He gathered a library of nearly ten thousand volumes, 
 the printed catalogue of which makes a book of two 
 
HIS LIBRARY. 327 
 
 hundred and sixty-eight pages ; but a study of this 
 catalogue gives no clue by which to trace even the life- 
 calling of Dr. Chapin. It was a miscellaneous collec- 
 tion of rare and valuable works which he made, with 
 less completeness in the department of theology than 
 in several other lines of reading. Aside from his devo- 
 tion to books for some special charm they might share, 
 he was ruled in his purchases by his supreme interest 
 in human life. Hence he gathered almost everything 
 which fell under his notice in the form of folk-lore, 
 legends, anecdotes, ballads, biography, history, social 
 philosophy, practical Christianity, and poetry. A book 
 that touched any one of the great questions of civiliza- 
 tion, and dealt with the vital interests of humanity, was 
 quite sure to find a place in his library. He sought 
 everything in the line of progressive thought. He was 
 a lover of the Broad-church literature, as an inspiration 
 to his soul and an aid to his preaching. He had the 
 power of easily melting into his own personality the 
 thoughts and philosophy of the advanced theologians of 
 the day. They spoke for him a native language. His 
 tendency in this direction is indicated by the fact that 
 he had gathered to his shelves twenty-two works by 
 Maurice, twelve by Kingsley, ten by Martineau, eight 
 by Stopford Brooke, and thirteen by Dean Stanley. He 
 had little interest in what is called systematic theology, 
 or in Biblical criticism, but sought to make himself 
 familiar with the philosophy and spirit of religion, that 
 he might enjoy himself the deeper and diviner things 
 of the kingdom, and make a better sermon for his pul- 
 pit. He read books as a preacher. The practical part 
 of his library bears upon the themes he would discuss 
 
328 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 on Sunday ; and when a parisliioner suggested to him 
 once that he might be extravagant in the matter of 
 book-buying, he replied, "You are the last one who 
 should complain, because you will be the first who will 
 get the benefit of my purchases." 
 
 He felt, what every preacher may well feel, that the 
 English classics are especially helpful to the clergyman ; 
 and there is scarcely a work in that department of lit- 
 erature that did not stand upon his shelves. He sought 
 the most costly editions of the British dramatists, essay- 
 ists, poets, orators, sermon-makers, and historians, and 
 these were among his most read volumes. He found in 
 them strength and beauty, the deepest insights into 
 human life, a rare suggestiveness, a kindling influence, 
 and a better — because a more natural — religion than 
 he found in the formal books of theology. 
 
 For old books he had a tender regard, and delighted 
 to bring new accessions to his list of venerable volumes ; 
 and it was an enchantment to listen as he told the story 
 of their origin and history. He cherished them as a 
 memorial of bygone eras, a sort of mental ancestry that 
 survives the natural term of book-life. " We were 
 amused," says Rev. Almon Gunnison, " at seeing a touch 
 of this book-lover's infirmity in the Doctor. Guiding 
 us through a dry and dusty stratum of old works, his 
 keen eye detected the absence of some musty copy of a 
 priceless first edition." He remembered that he had 
 loaned it, and it had not been returned. It was easy to 
 see that he was annoyed and disappointed. He pro- 
 tested that he would not lose the book for a hundred 
 dollars." He had fourteen volumes printed before the 
 year sixteen hundred, sixty-five volumes printed be- 
 
HIS LIBRARY. 329 
 
 tween the years sixteen hundred and seventeen hun- 
 dred, and four hundred and forty-seven volumes which 
 came from the press during the century preceding the 
 present. Many of these old books were clumsy speci- 
 mens of the printer's art, but to his eye, which had 
 acquired a strong antiquarian bias, they were as idols 
 to be revered. 
 
 At least three quarters of his library was made up of 
 English prints, and with a scrupulous fidelity he sought 
 the first editions, which are so precious to the lovers of 
 books. Of a work or an edition of which a limited 
 number only was printed, he spared no pains or cost to 
 secure a copy. If the press gave to the world but a 
 hundred copies, he set the booksellers of New York 
 and London on the search to make him the happy pos- 
 sessor of one copy. Illustrated works were great temp- 
 tations to him, and in spite of their cost he gathered 
 several hundreds of them into his library. Of Dore's 
 illustrations he had the Legend of the Wandering Jew, 
 Dante's L'Inferno and Le Purgatoire et Le Paradis, Les 
 Contes de Parrault, Don Quichotte de la Manche by 
 Cervantes, La Sainte Bible selon la Vulgate, Fables de 
 La Fontaine, Tennyson's Elaine, Gruinevere, and Vivien, 
 Hood's Poems, London : a Pilgrimage, (Euvres de Eabe- 
 lais, L'Espagne par le Baron Ch. Davillier, the Kime of 
 the Ancient Mariner, Milton's Paradise Lost, Fairy 
 Ptealm, Le Capitaine Fracasse, and eleven fine plates 
 from L' Album de Gustave Dore. He had a copy of 
 Dickens, illustrated with proof impressions from de- 
 signs by Darley, Gilbert, Cruikshank, Phiz, and others 
 Of this edition but a hundred copies were printed, and 
 his copy brought, at the auction sale of his books, two 
 
330 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 hundred and eighteen dollars. He had in his library 
 twenty-five different works by John Kuskin, ten of 
 which were illustrated. His copy of Ruskin's Modern 
 Painters, in five volumes royal octavo, sold for one 
 hundred and ninety dollars ; the Stones of Venice, in 
 three volumes, for one hundred and twenty-three dol- 
 lars. His Dibdiu's Decameron, with numerous fine 
 illustrations on copper and wood, was bought at one 
 hundred and fourteen dollars. His Bryan's liiograjjlii- 
 cal and Critical Dictionary of Painters and Engravers, 
 in three volumes, with about six hundred extra illus- 
 trations, comprising portraits, rare plates, etchings, 
 including original engravings by Albert Diirer, Eem- 
 brandt, Hollar, and others, sold for two hundred and 
 two dollars ; and his copy of Peter Cunningham's Story 
 of Nell Gwynn and the Sayings of Charles the Second, 
 inlaid to large folio size, and extra illustrated by the 
 insertion of one hundred and forty-nine rare and fine 
 portraits and plates, was bid off at two hundred and 
 ten dollars. At the sale of his library, quite a number 
 of his illustrated volumes brought between one and two 
 hundred dollars, and many works not illustrated, but 
 rare and curious and tempting to book-worshippers, sold 
 at prices nearly as high. The entire library brought at 
 public sale the handsome sum of twenty-three thousand 
 dollars, which is probably less than half its original 
 
 cost. ^ 
 
 w 
 
 In the department of ballads his library was, no 
 doubt, most complete. His collection of these tales of 
 the people set in verse is quite noteworthy. " I know a 
 very wise man," said the poet Fletcher, " that believed 
 that if a man were permitted to make all the ballads, 
 
HIS LIBRARY. 331 
 
 he need not care who should make the laws of a 
 nation." Dr. Chapin seemed to coincide with this 
 estimate of their influence and value, and sought their 
 pathos and power for his own soul, and to render him a 
 greater master of the sentiments. He felt their sway- 
 over the heart, and found in them happy illustrations 
 of the simplicity of a tender and touching rhetoric. 
 They were studies in the art of sermon-making. Hence 
 we are not surprised that he had brought to his library 
 thirty-eight different collections of ballads. 
 
 Dr. Chapin's reading habits, like all his habits, were 
 characterized by enthusiasm and persistence. He read 
 books with great haste, sweeping over a page to catch 
 its salient points, as the eye of a painter glances at a 
 landscape. He was like Gladstone, who, it is said, 
 could master a book in fifteen minutes. He went 
 through a volume as Sydney Smith went through an 
 art gallery, taking in the general impression but not the 
 detail of the scene. He was content in many cases to 
 study merely the index and three or four chapters of a 
 book, for he thus made himself the possessor of its sub- 
 stance and value. In this way he obtained a vast gen- 
 eral knowledge of books and an extensive culture, with- 
 out being critical in any department of learning; and 
 not without honor to themselves did Harvard College 
 confer on him the degrees of A. M. and D. D., and 
 Tufts College the degree of LL. D. His genius, in- 
 dustry, and attainments, and the worthy use he made of 
 learning, entitled hun to such a recognition m the world 
 of letters. He was no more devoted as a patron of 
 books, than he was faithful as a friend of humanity, in 
 
332 LIFE OF EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
 
 transmuting his wisdom into beneficent offices. "When 
 his star sunk in the west a great and useful L'ght dis- 
 appeared from among men ; but many are the hearts 
 which will delight to catch its lingering radiance in the 
 words he spoke and in the life he lived. 
 
 University Press : John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 
 
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