JSEP24W37 ^ 
 
 BR 1703 .C87 
 
 Currier, Albert Henry, 1837 
 
 1927. 
 Nine great preachers 
 
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 7 am the Light of the Worlds X^-^o^ 
 
 — Jesus. 
 
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 «C4L8t' 
 
 NINE 
 GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 BY 
 
 ALBERT H. CURRIER, D.D. 
 
 THE PILGRIM PRESS 
 
 BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 
 
Copyright, 1912 
 By Luther H. Gary 
 
 THE RUMFORD PRESS 
 CONCORD • N • H • U . S . A 
 
 /: 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To his former pupils, students of his classes 
 in Oherlin Theological Seminary during the 
 twenty-six years of his service in that institu- 
 tion as instructor in the art of preaching, 
 whose careers he has followed with sympathetic 
 interest ever since they went forth at graduation 
 to the great work of preaching the Gospel, this 
 volume is affectionately dedicated by 
 
 The Author 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The biographical studies contained in this volume 
 have been culled from a delightful field of literature. 
 For many years the author has roamed about this 
 field with pleasure and profit. From the experience 
 thus obtained he heartily concurs in the opinion 
 of Professor Benjamin Jowett, the famous Master 
 of BaUiol College, Oxford University, that "Of 
 great men it may be truly said that it does us good 
 only to look at them. The lives of great and good 
 men are the best sermons; and the preacher may 
 do well sometimes to shield himself behind them 
 and so to speak with greater authority than his 
 own words could fairly claim." Professor Jowett's 
 volume of "Biographical Sermons" affords a good 
 illustration of the truth of his words. 
 
 If "history is philosophy teaching by example," 
 as an eminent writer has said, biography of this 
 kind is even more; it is both philosophy and Chris- 
 tianity exemplified in the most impressive object- 
 lessons. 
 
 The author cherishes the hope that the studies 
 given in this volume which relate to preachers of 
 different denominations, will convince its readers 
 that "All faiths afford the constant and the wise" — 
 a better acquaintance with whom through its pages 
 will be found stimulating and profitable. It is 
 his belief that we do well as Christians to recognize 
 
 vii 
 
PREFACE 
 
 the comprehensive character of Christianity and 
 the essential agreement of its adherents of different 
 names. Our hymnals contain, and we use in our 
 public worship with hearty enjoyment and spiritual 
 benefit, hymns composed by Catholics, Anglicans, 
 Presbyterians, Methodists, Quakers, Unitarians and 
 other religious hymn- writers. They assist the devo- 
 tions and kindle to the adoration of God and faith 
 in Christ all Christian believers. A similar effect 
 is produced by the lives and sermons of the preachers 
 of different denominations. They reveal "one faith, 
 one hope, one baptism"; they inspire and nourish 
 in us the same religious sentiments, and convey 
 to us the essential truth of the Gospel of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Whatever, then, the religious denomination one 
 may belong to, his attitude to other Christians 
 should be one of brotherly kindness and tolerance 
 instead of sectarian coldness. No good reason can 
 be given why they should not heartily unite in 
 the promotion and support of measures of approved 
 value for the social and moral welfare of mankind, 
 or for the establishment and support of whatever 
 form of worship and Christian fellowship may seem 
 best, or alone feasible, in the community where 
 they live. 
 
 "I cannot," says Richard Baxter, "be so narrow 
 in my principles of church communion as many 
 are, that are so much for a liturgy, or so much 
 against it; so much for ceremonies, or so much 
 against them, that they can hold communion with 
 no church that is not of their mind and way. I 
 
 viii 
 
PREFACE 
 
 am not for narrowing the church more than Christ 
 himself alloweth us, nor for robbing him of any of 
 bis flock." 
 
 By scorning such narrowness and cordially frater- 
 nizing with all who sincerely profess to love and 
 honor Christ we best honor his name and illustrate 
 the harmony of feeling and practice existing among 
 the Christians expressed in one of the best of our 
 Christian hymns : 
 
 "O Lord and Master of us all! 
 Whate'er our name or sign. 
 We own thy sway, we hear thy call. 
 We test our lives by thine." 
 
 Whittier. 
 
 Of the biographical studies composing this volume, 
 two, Bossuet and John Bunyan, have previously 
 appeared in the Bibliotheca Sacra, and the author 
 is indebted to the kindness of the publishers of that 
 quarterly for the permission to insert them here. 
 Of the rest, none have been published before. 
 
 Oberlin, O., January 25th, 1912. 
 
 IX 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. Introduction: The Interest and 
 
 Value of Ministerial Biographies «3 
 
 II. Chrysostom 31 
 
 III. Bernard of Clairvaux .... 71 
 
 IV. Richard Baxter 113 
 
 V. BossuET 165 
 
 VI. John Bunyan 191 
 
 VII. Frederick W. Robertson .... 233 
 
 VIII. Alexander McLaren 283 
 
 IX. Henry Ward Beecher 325 
 
 X. Phillips Brooks 361 
 
 XI 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
I 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The Interest and Value of Ministerial 
 Biographies 
 
 We desire to present to the consideration of our 
 readers some special reasons that recommend this 
 class of Hterature to them for their perusal and study. 
 Before entering, however, upon the consideration 
 of these reasons one or two objections sometimes 
 made to such studies claim brief notice. 
 
 It may be said that the writers of these biog- 
 raphies are usually partial friends or blind hero- 
 worshippers, and that they do not give a true and 
 reliable account of the men whom they pretend to 
 describe; they exaggerate their merits, and they 
 hide or extenuate their faults to such a degree that 
 the result is entirely untrustworthy and misleading. 
 Such men as they describe, it may therefore be 
 said, never really lived, and the admirable portraits 
 of them which they present are largely creations of 
 their own imaginations. So the admiration they 
 excite in us is unwarranted and not likely to prove 
 beneficial, as no good can be expected from what is 
 false. To this objection it may be replied that it 
 is easy to make all proper deductions for the possible 
 partiality and hero-worship. We do this con- 
 tinually in our estimates of those whom the 
 
 3 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 fond partiality of relatives or friends clothes with 
 unreal perfections. It is possible and easy to 
 discern the shadow of truth underneath the exag- 
 gerations. They represent, we may say, what the 
 clearer vision of love perceives — the soul of excel- 
 lence in spite of every fault. They represent, if 
 not what the persons portrayed really were as 
 judged by an uncharitable world, yet what they 
 aimed to be and often seemed to be. And it may 
 be insisted that there is profit in the contemplation 
 of this, though somewhat of hallucination is expe- 
 rienced. It is good for men to believe in the possi- 
 bility of such excellence. The hallucination, if 
 such there be, is similar to that which some cele- 
 brated piece of antique statuary like the Venus 
 di Milo, or the Hermes of Praxiteles, recovered 
 from the ruins of Olympia, exerts upon an admiring 
 art student or susceptible spectator, who though 
 he must own and regret the mutilations that mar 
 its beauty, yet in spite of them discerns the glorious 
 ideal that the artist had in mind and to a large 
 extent expressed in his work, and which still survives 
 the marring effect of its mutilation. 
 
 It may be also objected to such studies that they 
 are likely to prove more injurious than beneficial 
 by inducing a slavish imitation of the subjects of 
 them to the loss of one's independence of mind. 
 There is, perhaps, some danger of this. Phillips 
 Brooks, who highly extols the value of biographical 
 literature, candidly confesses the danger. "Here," 
 he says, "is the only danger I know in the reading 
 of biographies, lest he who reads should lose himself, 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 shall come to be not himself, but the feeble repetition 
 of some other man." The same danger, however, 
 attends our highest blessings; the blessings of 
 friendship, of social intercourse, of study of the 
 great masters of style, and of the inspiring authors 
 of remarkable works of literature. 
 
 But we do not because of this danger refuse to 
 form friendships, or decline the pleasure of inter- 
 course with attractive people, or the benefit that comes 
 from familiarity with the masters of literature. 
 We guard against the danger by trying to get from 
 these blessings their proper benefit. This, in every 
 case, is not that of servile imitation, but of inspira- 
 tion or suggestion. Instead of surrendering our 
 personal independence and "swamping" ourselves 
 or suppressing our own creative powers in the 
 endeavor to imitate them, we are incited, if we use 
 them aright, to improve ourselves and perfect our 
 work by the suggestions they give. Their effect on 
 the mind is that of a fertilizing agency, by which 
 its natural powers are not dwarfed or extinguished 
 but stimulated to answer the ends of its existence. 
 It is like the influence of Milton on Burke, or of 
 Tillotson on Dryden, by which these eminent 
 writers became not copyists of the styles of Milton 
 and Tillotson, but makers, each of them, of a better 
 style of their own. The same thing is true of the 
 ideas obtained from the study of the masterpieces 
 of literature. The mind thus becomes not only a 
 casket of pearls gathered from the writers studied, 
 but a producer of pearls itself. The pearls of 
 thought gathered are seed thoughts. Sown in the 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 mind, they make it a fruitful bed of pearls, i. e., 
 they produce harvests of similar ideas, often expressed 
 and shaped with similar felicity, but a felicity of 
 their own. 
 
 Let us now consider some reasons that commend 
 ministerial biographies to us as profitable for perusal 
 and study. 
 
 I. There is a strong presumption in favor of such 
 books, as likely to afford profitable reading, from the 
 fact that they belong to the same class of literature as 
 the Gospels and the book of Acts. The whole Bible, 
 indeed, may be described as a collection of biographies 
 rather than of religious dogmas and precepts. Its 
 method of teaching is not so much didactic as illus- 
 trative. It instructs us in the nature and obligations 
 of religion principally by examples and object-lessons 
 rather than by doctrinal statements and definitions. 
 How precious and impressive these sacred biogra- 
 phies of the Bible are, whether of the Old Testament 
 or of the New! The longest of them is not a word 
 too long; the shortest of them is so significant that 
 an ocean of meaning seems to be contained in a 
 drop of words. Take that of Enoch, for example. 
 What is said of him is compressed in a few sentences. 
 There is nothing here to satisfy vain curiosity, no 
 elaborate narrative touching things private or public, 
 but little more than is summed up in the declara- 
 tion — "And Enoch walked with God, and he was 
 not, for God took him." But how sublimely signifi- 
 cant, nevertheless, this declaration is ! It is like the 
 enbalmed heart of a king, the rest of whose body 
 has turned to indistinguishable dust. Nothing more 
 
 6 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 is needed to give us the assurance that here was one 
 of earth's great men, and that he deserved a place 
 in the roll of God's saints. 
 
 Still more may be said of the biographies of the 
 New Testament. That of Christ in the Gospels is 
 an inestimable treasure; that of the apostles an 
 unfailing inspiration. By means of these sacred 
 biographies of the Bible the knowledge of God and 
 of the effect of his saving truth has been spread 
 abroad and is kept alive in the world. Generation 
 after generation feed upon them and derive spiritual 
 life from them. By them our faith is firmly anchored 
 in the teachings of our religion. By them the 
 church of God continually renews its ideals of 
 Christian character and duty. According to the 
 study given them and the observance paid to their 
 teachings is its standard of piety and endeavor. If 
 they are neglected, its spiritual life declines; if they 
 are thoughtfully read and pondered, this life is 
 invigorated and it exerts a transforming influence 
 over the world. 
 
 The influence of ministerial biographies is in the 
 same line with the power of the sacred Scriptures. 
 The subjects of them, almost without exception, 
 fully believed in and loved the Bible. They were 
 diligent students of its pages, they embraced its 
 invitations, they relied upon its promises, they 
 obeyed its precepts. Their religious faith was 
 shaped by its instruction; from it they "fetched 
 the sacred fire that kindled their sacrifices." They 
 were, in short, Bible Christians; their ministry was 
 a Bible ministry, and whatever success they had 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 in the world they owed to this fact. It may, there- 
 fore, be truthfully said that the credit of their 
 V characters and work gives new luster and credit 
 to the Bible, inasmuch as they are embodiments of 
 its great ideas. Embodying its great ideas, they 
 exhibit its best fruit — that of an earnest vital piety. 
 And if the perusal of their biographies do nothing 
 else but quicken the piety of their readers and give 
 them a higher standard of piety, they receive from 
 them the best thing they can get and what is most 
 essential to their own welfare and the good of society. 
 V These biographies, furthermore, illustrate and 
 confirm the truth of the Scriptures; they stamp 
 it as divine. Now that the attesting power of the 
 early miracles, authenticating Christianity as from 
 God, has become somewhat enfeebled by lapse of 
 time, and the record of its mighty works in the 
 beginning has by familiarity grown less impressive, 
 and doubt and incredulity are beginning to rise in 
 men's minds with palsying effect, this truth has 
 received a fresh attestation of its divine origin and 
 authority from these examples of its indestructible 
 vitality. By reason of them the believing people 
 of God can say: "Now we know that it is no 
 transient superstition, nor cunningly devised fable, 
 as the emboldened scepticism of the age asserts. 
 In it there dwells a supernatural potency — an 
 undecaying vitality. Like the Christ, whom it 
 presents, it is "the same yesterday, today and 
 forever." Age doth not wither it, nor the growth 
 of knowledge discredit it. It is authenticated as 
 the truth of God in the nineteenth and twentieth 
 
 8 
 
' INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 centuries by mighty works quite as marvelous as 
 those which attested it in the first century. Its 
 continual operation in the world has been, and is 
 such as to create what Doctor Storrs called "a / 
 st anding _ m iracle-' ' — "the standing miracle of Chris- 
 tendom," to bear constant and indubitable witness 
 to its truth. The lives of eminent missionaries of 
 the past century to the unchristian peoples of the 
 world — of Judson, Coan, Williams, Paton, Thoburn, 
 Hume and many others too numerous to mention, 
 and the lives of humble city missionaries, such as 
 Lord Shaftsbury speaks of as his helpers in the 
 effort to evangelize and uplift the poor of London, 
 and of such devoted lay-preachers and Christian 
 toilers among the poor of New York as those 
 described in "Down in Water Street," and in Dr. J. 
 W. Chapman's "Life of S. H. Hadley": and the 
 lives of devoted ministers and evangelists, as Edward 
 Payson, C. L. Goodell, Charles G. Finney and Mr. 
 Moody, are filled with wonderful works as great and 
 marvelous as those of the apostles. Doctor Pierson 
 cannot be accused of exaggeration in calling the story 
 of their achievements "A New Acts of the Apostles. " 
 These "New Acts," equally with the Old, prove the 
 Gospel "the power of God unto salvation." It is 
 not an extinguished torch whose oil is entirely con- 
 sumed and whose wick has burned to a cinder. It 
 is on the contrary an inextinguishable torch whose 
 flame is fed from inexhaustible sources and which 
 burns without being consumed like the burning bush, 
 which the Church of Scotland has made the symbol 
 of its enduring faith and inextinguishable life. 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 II. These ministerial biographies are very enter- 
 taining. Nowhere in the whole range of literature, 
 can we spend more delightful hours, or find more 
 healthful mental recreation than among the pub- 
 lished reminiscences of clergymen, such as Charles 
 Kinglsey, F. W. Robertson and C. H. Spurgeon 
 of England; and Lyman Beecher, Charles G. Finney, 
 Henry Ward Beecher, Phillips Brooks and Edward 
 Everett Hale, of our country. A good example 
 was given the past year in The Outlook for Nov. 
 12th, in the "Reminiscences of Edward Everett 
 Hale" by George S. Merriam. It seemed to us 
 in reading it a charming and effective piece of por- 
 traiture, by which every trait of that admirable 
 man was set forth with abundant wealth of illus- 
 tration and felicity of style. He possessed a rare 
 combination of qualities, mental, moral and social 
 and he was largely endowed with each kind. His 
 inventiveness and fertility of mind were apparent 
 from the number of his writings. But numerous 
 as these were — ^flowing seemingly from an inex- 
 haustible spring — their excellence was as remarkable 
 as their quantity. Mr. Merriam says: "He had 
 wit, he had humor, and something more — a vein of 
 fancy, a happy and merry make-believe. . . . 
 His peculiar humor and fancy blossomed out in a 
 fairy-story quality which he often threw into his 
 writings. It gave sometimes a whimsical form to 
 his inveterate optimism. He turned to it for his 
 own and his friends' delectation as a child turns 
 to its play. It tinges many of his stories of serious 
 purpose like *Ten Times One is Ten.' Truth to 
 
 10 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 tell, the roseate hue sometimes is followed by a 
 touch of disheartenment in the listeners. Real 
 drunkards are not always so surely and swiftly 
 reformed; the visible Kingdom of God does not seem 
 to advance by a tenfold multiplication annually. 
 . . . But his rainbows made the tramp along 
 the dusty highway more cheerful even if you never 
 found the pot of gold." His moral and social 
 qualities made him a wise and sympathetic counsellor 
 of people of every class — of those in perplexity and 
 trouble, and those afflicted with sore bereavement. 
 His "happy and merry make-believe" made him 
 the welcome companion of children and imaginative 
 young people, and his fancy with its bias to drollery 
 mingled with wisdom wove wholesome fictions and 
 extravagances that forced smiles and approval 
 from both the fun-loving and the serious-minded. 
 His religious creed and his preaching were marked 
 by the broadest charity; and he sought to win men 
 to his religious belief not by arguments and theo- 
 logical controversy, but by "the way of life which 
 he taught and which he lived and which . . . 
 generates an atmosphere in which scepticism 
 withers." "Life — that," says Mr. Merriam, "was 
 his characteristic word, and the motto on his church 
 stationery was, 'I am come that they might have 
 life and that they might have it more abundantly.' " 
 To meet this man on the street, and receive his 
 greeting of "Good Morning," was a benediction 
 that made the whole day good. Similar is the 
 effect of perusing these "Reminiscences," in which 
 his friend has embalmed his memory. 
 
 11 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 One rises from the perusal refreshed, morally 
 invigorated and inspired with the purpose of fulfill- 
 ing Mr. Hale's parting exhortation on one occasion 
 to this friend: *'Make good society where you are." 
 Not all the reminiscences of clergymen, we admit, 
 are equally interesting with this example, but 
 generally, we repeat, ministerial biographies are 
 entertaining. Our judgment is based upon quite 
 a wide acquaintance with them; which experience, 
 candidly weighed, leads us to recognize the truth 
 of a witty remark once made in our hearing in regard 
 to the ministry by the Rev. Daniel Butler, familiarly 
 known as "Bible Butler," as representing the 
 American Bible Society in Boston and the churches 
 of New England. Witnessing their sparkling sallies 
 of wit and racy wisdom before the meeting, as they 
 gathered at the entrance of the church and upon 
 the lawn, on an occasion that brought a large number 
 of ministers together, Mr. Butler dryly said: "The 
 hilarity of my ministerial brethren at these gather- 
 ings always reminds me of the words of the Psalmist : 
 * The trees of the Lord are full of sap ! ' " 
 
 III. The biographies of eminent servants of God 
 in the work of the ministry — whether ecclesiastically 
 ordained thereto, or unordained — afford an effective 
 cure for religious discouragement and depression. 
 Sometimes in their religious works and Christian 
 activities good people are dismayed at the number 
 and greatness of the obstacles opposed to them. 
 Because of the infirmity of our human nature their 
 zeal abates and their spirits flag. It seems to them, 
 then, that their work is altogether vain; that they 
 
 12 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 accomplish little or nothing by it, that their best 
 efforts result only in weariness and disappointment. 
 "Why attempt anything further?" "Why spend 
 our strength for naught?" the discouraged heart 
 then cries. These suggestions have a paralyzing 
 effect. The strongest and most energetic and 
 courageous men, like Elijah and John the Baptist 
 and the great reformers, Luther, Knox, and the 
 most heroic missionaries, have all felt the depressing 
 spell and been almost overcome by it, so as to sink 
 down into a state of dull apathy and despair. At 
 such times a good biography — with its thrilling 
 account of noble and beneficent achievement — is a 
 wholesome spiritual tonic. It energizes and inspires 
 the tired heart and jaded spirits with fresh life and 
 renewed vigor. The subject of it encountered 
 similar obstacles and felt similar discouragement — 
 but roused by the voice and strengthened by the 
 power of God, he rose up and renewed the fight 
 and won at last. Its effect is like that of martial 
 music upon soldiers weary with long marches and 
 faint with hunger. The trumpet peal revives their 
 courage — rekindles their ardor and nerves them to 
 a conquering pitch of endeavor. It is a familiar 
 story of classic literature that Themis tocles, the 
 leader of the Greeks at Salamis, was stimulated to 
 those daring efforts which gave them the victory by 
 the remembered example of Miltiades the Greek 
 leader at Marathon. So the leaders of the Church 
 have often been incited to triumphant effort by 
 the examples of those who had wrought righteous- 
 ness in the service of God. This is one of God's 
 
 IS 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ways of inspiring man, a method of his providence. 
 The coals from off his altar, by which his chosen 
 ones have had their lips touched to eloquence and 
 their sins of indolence and cowardice purged away, 
 are the bright records of those who have laid them- 
 selves upon his altar and worked for his glory, i 
 
 IV. In the reading and study of ministerial 
 biographies, we receive interesting and valuable sug- 
 gestions as to the best methods of ministerial work, 
 and the best means of attaining the highest success in 
 the ministry. Such knowledge is particularly val- 
 uable to ministers themselves, who more than any 
 other class are likely to be readers of these biog- 
 raphies. The subjects of them were among the 
 most eminent and successful in their sacred calling. 
 But for their distinction in it, in some way or other, 
 their biographies would not have been given to 
 the world. The fact of a biography in every case 
 implies that the subject of it was believed to be 
 more than ordinary; that his life contained impor- 
 tant lessons, or was marked by extraordinary 
 achievements; or that he possessed a character of 
 such beauty and moral excellence as make it deserv- 
 ing of general admiration and worthy of emulation. 
 But his eminence and success may have been due 
 as much to the wise methods he used as to his 
 superior moral and mental qualities, or his genius. 
 In respect to the latter, he may be — probably is 
 — inimitable; in respect to the former, his example 
 can be profitably studied and to some extent copied. 
 We think it may be truly affirmed that ordinary 
 abilities trained and directed by wise methods will 
 
 14 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 often appear to better advantage and achieve more 
 usefulness than extraordinary abilities ill-directed. 
 This remark will be found true of the whole range 
 of ministerial activity. Whether we consider his 
 pulpit performances or his pastoral work, a good 
 method counts for much. Such methods are often 
 discovered or suggested in the biographies of emi- 
 nent ministers. These methods were peculiar to 
 the persons whose ministry they distinguished. 
 There is wisdom in studying them and often great 
 advantage in adopting them. By doing this, one 
 is saved from mistakes and the loss of time and 
 the toil involved in painfully and slowly groping 
 for a way to success, when a clear and practicable 
 way has been already discovered and its value well 
 tested. 
 
 We venture to particularize some valuable accom-y' 
 plishments that may^ be thus acquired: Several 
 things are involved in the art of effective preaching. 
 Foremost among these are personal piety, a familiar 
 acquaintance with the Bible, a good understanding 
 of its teaching, the ability to reason soundly, and 
 the skill to put one's thoughts logically and attract- 
 ively together. Besides these, an opulent and forcible 
 diction ready to the tongue, the power of apt illus- 
 tration, of natural and easy gesture and a good 
 voice, which the preacher knows how to manage 
 so as impressively to express the varying shades of 
 thought and feeling that occur in speaking; these 
 are usual adjuncts of pulpit power. 
 
 As illustrating the value of a good voice, 
 well managed, we quote what President Francis 
 
 15 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Wayland, of Brown University, says of the preaching 
 of Dr. Eliphalet Nott: "When settled in Albany, 
 his reputation as a preacher was unparalleled. 
 Those who heard his sermon on the death of Hamil- 
 ton declared it was the most eloquent discourse 
 they ever heard. So far as I can recall his manner, 
 after the lapse of many years, the excellency which 
 gave him so great power was in the tones of his 
 voice. I would almost say they were so perfect 
 that a man who did not understand English would, 
 from his tones alone, have been able to form an 
 idea of the train of thought he was pursuing. When 
 he uttered a sentence, the emphasis, inflections 
 and tones were so perfect that every part was 
 distinctly connected with that to which it belonged 
 and you never failed to comprehend his meaning 
 precisely. When to this were joined the tones of 
 emotion adapted to every range of human feeling, 
 you may possibly perceive what must have been 
 the effect." In the biography of Doctor Guthrie 
 we have a similar testimony as to the power and 
 charm of his voice: *'He had a powerful, clear and 
 musical voice, the intonations of which were varied 
 and appropriate, managed with an actor's skill 
 though there was not the least appearance of art." 
 This power of the voice, characteristic of almost 
 all eminent preachers and orators, is almost never 
 a natural gift. It is largely the result of elocu-- 
 tionary training. It was so with Guthrie and Nott. 
 Whitefield and Beecher, and a study of their biog- 
 raphies will reveal their methods of improving it. 
 Guthrie thus tells how it was with himself: "When a 
 
 16 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 divinity student I paid more than ordinary atten- 
 tion to the art of elocution, knowing how much of 
 the effect produced upon the audience depended 
 on the manner as well as on the matter; that in 
 point of fact the manner is to the matter as the 
 powder is to the ball. I attended elocution classes 
 winter after winter, walking across half the city and 
 more after eight o'clock at night, fair night and foul, 
 and not getting back to my lodgings until about 
 10:30 o'clock. There I learned to find out and 
 correct many acquired and more or less awkward 
 defects in gesture, to be in fact natural; to acquire 
 a command over my voice so as to suit its force and 
 emphasis to the sense, and to modulate it so as to 
 express the feelings, whether of surprise or grief 
 or indignation or pity. I had heard very indifferent 
 discourses made forcible by a vigorous delivery, 
 and able ones reduced to feebleness by a poor pith- 
 less delivery. I had read of the extraordinary 
 pains Demosthenes and Cicero took to cultivate 
 their manner of public speaking and become masters 
 of the arts of elocution, and I knew how by a mas- 
 terly and natural use of them Whitefield could sway 
 the crowds that gathered to hear him at early morn 
 on the commons of London." 
 
 Guthrie likewise possessed to an eminent degree 
 the power of apt, impressive illustration. Joined 
 to the witchery of his voice, it amounted sometimes 
 to a power of enchantment. His auditors were 
 then spellbound by it. An amusing instance is 
 presented in the conduct of a Highland cattle- 
 drover one day in Guthrie's congregation in Free 
 
 17 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS j 
 
 ■I 
 St. John's. The man stood throughout the service 3 
 in one of the crowded aisles within a few yards of i 
 the pulpit. From the first he was riveted, a pinch ! 
 of snuff every now and then evincing his satisfaction. | 
 Toward the end of the sermon and just as ?the \ 
 preacher was commencing a prolonged illustration ; 
 the stranger applied to his horn mull. Arrested, 
 however, he stood motionless, his hand raised with 
 the snuff between his fingers, his head thrown 
 back, his eyes and mouth wide open. The instant i 
 that the passage was finished and before the audi- j 
 ence had time to recover their breath, the drover \ 
 applied the snuff with gusto to his nostrils, and j 
 forgetting in his excitement alike the place and the | 
 occasion, turned his head to the crowd behind and ] 
 exclaimed, "Na, Sirs, I never heard the like of that!" 
 ' Such a power of vivid illustration is invaluable 
 to a preacher. It is characteristic of the greatest 
 preachers. Chrysostom had it, and so bound his 
 hearers as with a spell that pickpockets plied their 1 
 trade without detection among them while he was \ 
 preaching. Beecher had it to a remarkable degree, 
 as the writer remembers well from having often 
 sat spellbound when a young man under his preach- 
 ing. To be sure, natural gifts of imagination and ; 
 fancy are required, as a bird must have wings to 
 fly. But these gifts must be exercised and suitably j, 
 directed. The faculty of skilful and appropriate | 
 illustration is a product of diligent self-culture with \ 
 a basis of native endowment. This was the case 
 with Guthrie and Beecher. Both of these preachers 
 
 developed it by painstaking effort, having early 
 
 1 
 18 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 in their ministry discovered its effectiveness in 
 addresses to popular audiences. 
 
 It gives me pleasure to be able to quote the follow- 
 ing testimony of the late Dr. William M. Taylor, of ^/ 
 New York, in support of my opinions. He says: 
 "If I may speak from my own experience there is 
 no faculty which is more susceptible of development 
 by culture than that of discovering analogies. When 
 I commenced my ministry, it was a rare thing with 
 me to use an illustration. My style then was 
 particularly argumentative, and my aim was to con- 
 vince and satisfy the understanding, and then to 
 make my appeal warmly to the heart. But shortly 
 after my removal from my Scotch parsonage to 
 Liverpool, Guthrie's "Gospel in Ezekiel" was pub- 
 lished, and this was followed a few months later by 
 Mr. Beecher's "Life Thoughts." These two books 
 opened my eyes to see what was lying all around 
 me. Under the inspiration which they communi- 
 cated to me, I began to look for spiritual analogies 
 in everything. The books I read; the places I 
 visited; the incidents that passed under my obser- 
 vation; the discoveries of science with which I 
 became acquainted — all were scanned by me for 
 the purpose of finding in them, if possible, some- 
 thing that might be used in pulpit illustration. 
 And so it came that when I sat down to my desk, 
 appropriate analogies would rise to my pen, and 
 the difficulty was not how to get illustrations, but 
 which to choose out of the many that offered them- 
 selves for my purpose." (See "The Ministry of 
 the Word," page 192.) 
 
 19 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 The autobiographic testimony of Doctor Taylor 
 proves both that the illustrative faculty, when 
 naturally small, may be greatly developed and 
 improved, and that he learned the methods of its 
 culture and effective use from Guthrie and Beecher 
 to transmit them in turn to others in the ministry. 
 
 Another important and essential requisite to 
 ^effective preaching is a good style of oral address. 
 We mean by this — as distinguished from a bookish 
 or essay style — an easy, forcible, talking style, 
 that shall give fit and orderly expression to one's 
 flowing thought in the presence of a congregation 
 of listeners. Mere fluency is not enough, nor 
 imperturbable boldness of spirit, though self-pos- 
 session is necessary. It implies a careful premedi- 
 tation, so that one knows what he wants to say, 
 and a command of language and of the mental 
 faculties so complete and absolute that he can utter 
 his thought with sure and ready tongue and full 
 swing of personality, without hesitation and with 
 natural appropriate feeling. 
 
 This style of utterance more than any other thing 
 distinguishes a powerful preacher. There are various 
 methods of acquiring it according as men are made. 
 Some have acquired it by following the suggestions 
 of Dr. R. S. Storrs in his valuable "Preaching with- 
 out Notes," which is largely descriptive of his own 
 interesting experience in the ministry; others like Fox 
 and Pitt, the great English Parliamentary orators, as 
 described by Goodrich's "British Orators," by the 
 practice of translating aloud into idiomatic English 
 the great orators of antiquity, combined with the 
 
 20 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 resolute determination to speak whenever oppor- 
 tunity was given; still others, as Bunyan and 
 Spurgeon, Newman Hall and Moody, did theirs by 
 beginning early, with their hearts aflame to tell 
 men of God's love and his salvation through faith 
 in Christ, though they did it bunglingly and with 
 many grammatical errors and ludicrous mistakes 
 joined to confusion of mind and matter; but they 
 would not wait to obtain more polish "nor stand 
 shivering on the brink," but plunged boldly into 
 the stream of talk, resolved to "sink or swim, survive 
 or perish," in a brave endeavor to speak their mes- 
 sage, with the result that they made themselves 
 by persistent practice effective preachers, whose 
 style was that of earnest men talking to other men 
 of the way of salvation. 
 
 Bossuet, the greatest of the French pulpit orators, 
 acquired his remarkable style, as Alexander Ham- 
 ilton and Daniel Webster acquired theirs, by previous 
 writing upon the topic of discourse. So much did 
 Bossuet write, that he may be said to have written 
 out his sermons entirely before he went into the 
 pulpit. But "the written sermon," says his biog- 
 rapher, "was not written to be exactly repeated." 
 This effort of memory while speaking he could not 
 make; he would have lost much of his freedom and 
 force and naturalness if he had attempted it. Handi- 
 capped by this burden laid upon his mind, the fire 
 and force of his soul would have been sensibly 
 affected. The purpose of previous writing was 
 not to provide himself with the exact words needed 
 to express his thought, but to develop his thought 
 
 21 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and to familiarize his mind with the ground to be 
 gone over, that, with a clear foresight of the way and 
 the goal, he might run forward with all his speed. 
 Then he trusted to his powers of expression as 
 determined by circumstances and the inspiration 
 of the moment, and the sermon as preached was 
 usually almost identical in language with the one 
 written. The thing to be noticed is that this elo- 
 quent preacher, of such resources and gifts, took 
 so much pains to prepare himself with his pen 
 beforehand, as if he could not trust himself other- 
 wise to speak well. With a fertile imagination and 
 great readiness of speech, he left little to chance. 
 Though he might have won admiration with slight 
 toil by the mere exercise of his splendid gifts, for 
 forty years he never ceased from toiling to satisfy 
 his standard of excellence and make himself more 
 perfect. 
 
 The biographies of these different men show their 
 various methods of preparation. Wise and happy 
 is he who by study of them finds a model best suited 
 to himself for imitation and acquires a good style 
 of oral address. 
 
 Another valuable acquirement which ministers, 
 particularly those of non-liturgical denominations, 
 may obtain from the study of ministerial biographies, 
 is the ability to lead their congregations acceptably 
 and happily in public worship. To give voice, in 
 prayer, to the spiritual affections and religious 
 longings of their congregations is not the least 
 important function of such ministers. Bishop Vin- 
 cent of the Methodist Episcopal Church once told 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 the writer that he regarded it as the most difficult 
 of their public duties, and one which, he thought, 
 is seldom happily performed. When it is thus 
 performed and gives fit expression to the conscious 
 needs and aspirations of the worshippers, how 
 acceptable it is! Then the minister is a true priest 
 to his people, bringing them near to God and offering 
 in their behalf appropriate sacrifices of praise and 
 prayer in which they heartily concur. How shall 
 one qualify himself to perform this important and 
 difficult office.'^ Ministers, and also devout laymen 
 who occasionally lead the devotions of others, often 
 wish they had the secret of success. There is no 
 better way of acquiring it than by study of the biog- 
 raphies of those ministers who have been eminent 
 for it, and ascertaining through these how they won 
 their success. Such were Edward Payson and the 
 late C. L. Goodsell of St. Louis. That which was 
 most prized and distinctive in their public min- 
 istries was their pulpit prayers. These impressed 
 and edified their congregations more than their ser- 
 mons. "His prayers," says one who had the priv- 
 ilege of sitting under the ministry of Doctor Payson, 
 "always took my spirit into the immediate presence 
 of Christ amid the glories of the spiritual world. 
 It was always a letting down to open my eyes when 
 he had concluded and find myself still on the earth." 
 His biography tells us the secret of his eminence 
 in this service. In the first place, as a godly man 
 he daily exercised his spirit in private prayer. His 
 heart and his lips were habituated to it, because he 
 felt it to be a religious duty and he found sincere 
 
 23 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 delight in it. In addition to this, he made the sub- 
 ject of pubHc prayer a matter of special study and 
 much thought. He endeavored to form right 
 conceptions of it, to determine what its true purpose 
 is, what the conditions are of its right performance, 
 and he wrote out his thoughts upon the subject 
 in a valuable paper that is included in his biog- 
 raphy. Thus his soul became so conversant with 
 the theory and practice of prayer, private and public, 
 that it easily winged its flight to the throne of God 
 and delighted in communion with him, and also 
 made others sharers of its spiritual rapture, as a 
 practiced singer who delights in song lifts to heaven 
 the souls of those that hear. In this way Dr. 
 Payson made what is too often a cold and uninter- 
 esting part of the pubhc worship of the sanctuary 
 a means of grace and of spiritual joy to worshippers. 
 If the ministerial reader of his biography is encour- 
 aged in the endeavor to impart a similar interest 
 to this office of public prayer, he receives an inesti- 
 mable benefit himself and communicates it to his 
 fellow worshippers. 
 
 Methods of successful pastoral work as well as 
 of pulpit ministration may be learned from minis- 
 terial biographies. No minister of the gospel can 
 read those of Baxter, McChene, C. L. Goodsell 
 and H. C. Trumbull without being made wiser for 
 this work. They studied how to approach men 
 easily and happily with the subject of reUgion 
 until they acquired great skill and success in doing 
 it. Their methods of introducing the subject by 
 conversation, by letter, by friendly attentions of 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 various kinds, are well worth study by any who 
 wish to acquire somewhat of their skill and success. 
 
 V. By the study of these biographies one acquires 
 high ideals of character and achievement. One man 
 is superior to another, and accomplishes more in 
 the world not merely because he is endowed with 
 superior natural abilities but because he has a 
 higher ideal of excellence. This he may have 
 obtained from his parents and instructors, but more 
 probably from his reading. A good biography 
 perhaps has given it to him. Having it, how is 
 he affected by it? Recall the influence of ideals 
 in art and literature. Giotto, Fra Angelico, Ra- 
 phael, Michael Angelo — these eminent artists had 
 ideals of saintly beauty and physical perfection, 
 which possessed their minds and gave shape to 
 the work of their hands. Their ideals forbade 
 contentment with commonplace achievements. 
 They stimulated them to attempt higher and better 
 things to the last. 
 
 So with the great masters in literature. Milton, 
 for example, tells us of his studies of Plato, Xeno- 
 phon, Dante, and Petrarch, and how through their 
 influence he "was confirmed in this opinion, that 
 he who would not be frustrate of his hope to write 
 well in laudable things ought himself to be a true 
 poem, a pattern of the best and honorablest things;" 
 and how he himself indulged the hope that he 
 "might perhaps leave something so written to 
 aftertimes as they should not willingly let die. . . . 
 These thoughts possessed me. For which cause 
 . . . I applied myself ... to fix all the 
 
 25 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 industry and art I could unite to the adorning of 
 my native tongue . . . to be an interpreter 
 and relater of the best and sagest things among 
 mine own citizens throughout this island in the 
 mother dialect; that what the greatest and choicest 
 wits of Athens, Rome or Modern Italy and those 
 Hebrews of Old did for their country, I in my 
 proportion might do for mine." These confessions 
 reveal a mind that had received through its studies 
 a high ideal, which attuned his heart to its work 
 and shaped his thoughts to those forms of eloquent 
 expression that came from his hand. 
 
 We suppose that he never quite attained his ideal, 
 that his mind had glimpses of a perfection which 
 his hand never achieved, but he was led by it to 
 greater things than he otherwise would have reached. 
 So of other writers whom we admire or fondly love. 
 It was his ideal which inspired Whittier to attempt 
 his highest verse, and which, after he had done his 
 best, made him say to the friends who crowned him 
 on his seventieth birthday with the laurel of their 
 praise : 
 
 "You do but read between the written lines 
 The finer grace of unfulfilled designs." 
 
 Similar is the operation of high ideals in the work 
 of the Christian ministry or of any other honorable 
 calling. They keep the mind fixed upon a high 
 mark; they refine and exalt its perceptions of 
 duty and of excellence, until these result in a per- 
 manent moral elevation of character, and a remark- 
 able power of achievement. Such moral elevation 
 
 26 
 
INTEREST OF CLERICAL LIVES 
 
 of character and superiority in achievement shed 
 a dignity and beauty over all the actions of life. 
 What we mean is shown by Phillips Brooks in the 
 fine illustration which forms the conclusion of his 
 instructive essay upon Biography: "There are/'y' 
 he says, "some of the great old paintings in which 
 some common work of common men is going on, 
 the meeting of two friends, the fighting of a battle, 
 a marriage or a funeral, and all the background 
 of the picture is a mass of living faces, dim, misty, 
 evidently with a veil between them and the life 
 we live, yet evidently there, evidently watching 
 the sad or happy scene, and evidently creating 
 an atmosphere within which the action of the pic- 
 ture goes its way. Like such a picture is the life 
 of one who lives in a library of biographies, and 
 feels the lives which have been, always pouring in 
 their spirit and example on the lives which have 
 succeeded them upon the earth." 
 
 This elevating effect of biographies is due to the 
 spiritual converse had with those whose lives they 
 record. We know them and converse with them 
 in their best moments, for the things we read of 
 them comprise the best things they said and did. 
 We are in good society while turning over the pages 
 that report these. Our hearts thrill to their words 
 and narrated deeds as to those of some high com- 
 pany to which a rare good fortune has admitted 
 us. And they not only inspire us at the time, 
 but they linger long in our remembrance with sweet 
 and wholesome effect. They permanently influence 
 for good our characters and opinions; by familiar 
 
 27 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 converse with them we are able to catch somewhat j 
 
 of their spirit and tone. j 
 
 James Russell Lowell truly says: ! 
 
 I 
 
 "As thrills of long-hushed tone 
 
 Live in the viol, so our souls grow fine | 
 
 With keen vibrations from the touch divine \ 
 Of noble natures gone." 
 
 28 
 
II 
 
 ^ CHRYSOSTOM 
 
II 
 
 CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 A. D. 347-407 
 
 Of the highest rank among the great preachers of 
 Christianity in the past, "one of half a dozen at 
 most," Dr. R. S. Storrs says, was the illustrious John 
 of Antioch, best known by the name of Chrysostom, 
 "of the golden mouth," given him on account of his 
 great eloquence. He was born of noble parentage 
 at Antioch, in 347 A. D. His father, Secundus, was 
 an officer, Magister Militum, in the Imperial army 
 of Syria. He, dying in the infancy of his son, left 
 a young widow, Anthusa, twenty years of age, who, 
 refusing to marry again, devoted herself to the care 
 of her two little children, John and an older sister. 
 She appears, from all that we can learn, to have been 
 a remarkable woman, remarkable for her piety and 
 for the mental and moral qualities displayed in the 
 training of her children, and the management of the 
 considerable estate left by her husband. Chrysos- 
 tom himself informs us that when his teacher, the 
 celebrated Libanius, heard of the manner in which 
 she had acquitted herself of her parental task, he 
 exclaimed: "Heavens! what women these Christians 
 have!" She was to her son what Monica was to 
 Augustine; it was her influence and her molding 
 hand that had most to do with shaping his charac- 
 ter. She jealously guarded him from the pollutions 
 of the great and corrupt city of Antioch; she pro- 
 
 31 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 vided him with the best instructors; she fostered 
 and stimulated the extraordinary mental gifts and 
 aptitude for learning displayed by him in childhood; 
 and, above all, she encouraged him in pious habits 
 and an intimacy with pious companions. 
 
 Twofold Environment — Local and Imperial 
 
 Consider the impressive local environment amid 
 which he grew up and lived until near the age of 
 fifty, and the probable influence of it upon him. 
 
 Antioch was one of the most splendid cities of the 
 Roman Empire. Situated on the southern bank of 
 the Orontes within a few miles of the Mediterranean 
 Sea, both Nature and Art had made it beautiful and 
 imposing. Readers of "Ben Hur" will recall the 
 description given in that celebrated work of the 
 principal features of this great metropolis of Syria. 
 The descriptions found there represent quite faith- 
 fully and truly what Antioch was in the days of 
 its meridian splendor, which lasted to the time of 
 Chrysostom and later. It had a population of 
 200,000 people, of a heterogeneous character, con- 
 sisting of Asiatic, Syrian, Greek, Jewish and Roman 
 elements. The river Orontes was the principal gate- 
 way through which it was connected with and en- 
 riched by the commerce of the world. All lands 
 contributed of their resources to its wealth and 
 pleasure and luxury. It was a magnificent city. 
 Its streets were adorned with covered collonades of 
 marble, on either side, beneath which its inhabi- 
 tants walked protected from the scorching sun of 
 
 82 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 summer and the rains of winter. From the moun- 
 tains to the south, massive stone aqueducts, whose 
 soHd masonry remains to this day, brought copious 
 streams of water to supply its numerous baths and 
 fountains. Everywhere the cool refreshing spray 
 and the soothing sounds of flowing water delighted 
 the senses. Splendid villas in the midst of beauti- 
 ful gardens adorned its suburbs; likewise pleasure 
 groves and parks, which the people much frequented. 
 Among the latter was the celebrated Grove of 
 Daphne, described with such fullness by General 
 Wallace in his famous work of fiction. It was dedi- 
 cated to the worship of Apollo, was furnished with 
 every enticement to the senses, and so rich in its 
 enchantments that the saying arose concerning it: 
 "Better be a worm and feed on the mulberries of 
 Daphne than a King's guest." In the mixed popu- 
 lation of this great city, "the impulsive oriental tem- 
 perament was the most dominant. They abandoned 
 themselves freely to those voluptuous recreations for 
 which their city and climate afforded every facility 
 and inducement. The bath, the circus, the chariot 
 races and the theatre were their constant amuse- 
 ments, and pursued by them with the eagerness of 
 a pleasure-loving nature." 
 
 In the time of Chrysostom, 100,000, or one half 
 of the population, was nominally Christian. They 
 embraced all degrees of strictness from the severest 
 asceticism to almost pagan laxity. 
 
 Such was the local environment, outside his home, 
 amid which Chrysostom grew up and lived there in 
 Antioch. 
 
 33 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 There was still another environment outside of 
 this, which needs also to be considered if we would 
 clearly understand the character and the life of 
 Chry SOS torn. It was the environment which the 
 great Roman world afforded at that particular time. 
 In the pages of Gibbon we read what the conditions 
 of things then were. The Roman Empire was fast 
 declining under those influences that brought it to 
 its ultimate downfall. The stern virtue and dis- 
 cipline which had brought the world under its sway 
 having become relaxed, it was undergoing dissolu- 
 tion through the joint operation of internal corrup- 
 tion and external attack from the barbaric peoples 
 that lay outside its borders. There was decay of 
 every kind, decay of domestic virtue, decay of 
 patriotism, decay of faith in the old religion before 
 faith in the new Christianity was strong enough to 
 take its place, decay in the power of law, decay of 
 industry, decay of all the elements of security. We 
 get glimpses in the pages of the historian of "a large 
 mass of the population hovering midway between 
 Paganism and Christianity; we detect an oppressive 
 system of taxation; a widely spread venality in the 
 administration of public business; a general inse- 
 curity of life arising from the almost^total absence 
 of what we understand by pohce regulations; a 
 depressed agriculture; a great slave population; a 
 vast turbulent army as dangerous to the peace of 
 society as the enemies from whom it was supposed 
 to defend it; the presence of barbarians in the 
 countrj^ as servants, soldiers or colonists; the con- 
 stantly impending danger from other hordes ever 
 
 34 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 hovering on the frontier and like famished wolves 
 gazing with hungry eyes on the plentiful prey which 
 lay beyond it." 
 
 The imperial authority, dependent for its support 
 upon the favor of the army, was a perilous and pre- 
 carious possession. Those who held it enjoyed their 
 dignity at a tremendous price for themselves and 
 their families. Murder lurked for them on every 
 hand, and they often fell victims to it. In one of the 
 writings of Chrysostom, his treatise de Virgini- 
 tate, there is an impressive passage reviewing the 
 tragical events and misfortunes that overtook the 
 wearers of the imperial purple during the fifty years 
 from 330 to 380. There were nine emperors during 
 that time. Two onl}^ out of the nine, died natural 
 deaths. Of the other seven, one had been killed 
 by a usurper, two fallen in battle, one slain in a 
 sedition of his domestic guards, and one by the man 
 who had invested him with the purple ; one had died 
 in a fit of rage, and one with his retinue had perished 
 in the flames of a burning house to which the Goths 
 had set fire. Of the widows of these emperors, 
 some had perished by poison, others had died of 
 despair and broken hearts. 
 
 Against such miseries as these, how light and in- 
 significant in the balance were all the wealth and 
 power of the imperial office, and how unstable the 
 condition of things in view of them! An appre- 
 hension, or foreboding of something dreadful im- 
 pending, pervaded the more serious and thoughtful 
 portion of society and tinged with solemnity their 
 speech and writings. We discover it in the sermons 
 
 35 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of Chrysostom, and in the writings of Augustine 
 and other Christian fathers. It was a condition of 
 things, however, that stimulated the good and noble 
 qualities of the great, as well as the corrupt and reck- 
 less frivolity of the degraded. The great and the good 
 seem indeed to have reached an extraordinary stature, 
 as if society were like a rank soil fattened by cor- 
 ruption, in which good plants and worthless weeds 
 flourish alike with unusual vigor. This statement is 
 borne out by a consideration of the remarkable men 
 and women of that time. Contemporaneous with 
 Chrysostom in the Church were Athanasius, Ambrose, 
 Jerome, Augustine; in the State, Constantine the 
 Great, Valentinian, Theodosius, and his son, Theo- 
 dosius the Great; and among the distinguished 
 women, besides Anthusa and Monica, were some of 
 the most noble and saintly that the world has ever 
 known. The Christian women indeed of that age 
 surpassed the men in devotion to their religion. 
 But for their strenuous opposition the Emperor 
 Julian thought that his efforts to revive Paganism 
 would have been successful. 
 
 Chrysostom having such a mother, who lavished 
 upon him all her wealth of love, grew up, amid the 
 twofold environment described, to manhood un- 
 stained by the vice for which Antioch was then 
 notorious. As a child he was precocious; as a youth, 
 diligent and ambitious of distinction. Under the 
 instruction and training of Libanius, the rhetori- 
 cian, he enriched his mind with classical learning, 
 and with native powers of natural eloquence ac- 
 quired the art of effective speech. Following the 
 
 36 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 wish of his father's family, as is supposed, he studied 
 the profession of law and entered upon its practice 
 with the most brilliant prospects. He made some 
 pleas in the law court which received much public 
 applause and won the praise of his master, Libanius. 
 Of all Libanius' pupils he was the favorite, and to 
 his dying day the old teacher mourned that the 
 Christians had stolen John from them. For John 
 did not like the profession of the law. To his pure 
 and upright soul it seemed tarnished by chicanery 
 and rapacity, and the gain it held out to him he 
 abhorred as "the wages of the devil." 
 
 Prepares for the Ministry 
 
 The influences that led him to abandon his pro- 
 fession of the law and at length enter upon that of 
 the ministry were various. Chief among these was 
 his friendship for a schoolmate, Basil, who after- 
 wards became a bishop in the Catholic Church. 
 "He accompanied me," says Chrysostom, "at all 
 times; we engaged in the same studies and were 
 instructed by the same teachers; as w^e went to our 
 lectures or returned from them we were accustomed 
 to take counsel together on the line of life it would be 
 best to adopt." 
 
 The molding influence of school friendships! 
 Who can measure it, or how powerfully it shapes the 
 destiny of those whose hearts are knit together by 
 it? The friendship between Chrysostom and Basil, 
 there at the school of Libanius in Antioch, reminds 
 us of that between Professor Charles Hodge and 
 
 37 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Bishop John Johns in their early college days at 
 Princeton. There was the same invincible attach- 
 ment, the same mutual admiration and the same 
 molding power of each over the other, resulting in 
 the greatest benefit to both. 
 
 Basil decided upon a religious career and this 
 decision separated him for a time from Chrysostom. 
 But separation from his friend only increased Chrysos- 
 tom's attachment to him and his discontent with 
 his own profession. He began to withdraw from the 
 worldly society about him and to give more of his 
 time to the study of the Bible, which later in life, 
 he said, was "the fountain for watering the soul." 
 He sought the acquaintance of Meletius, the good 
 and wise Bishop of Antioch, whose influence drew him 
 in the same direction as Basil's friendship, and after 
 a while induced him to receive baptism and accept 
 the office of reader, then the initiatory step to the 
 Christian ministry. Entirely in accord now in their 
 thoughts and purposes, the two friends were reunited 
 and pursued with ardor the religious life agreed upon. 
 But for his mother's entreaty "not to leave her a 
 second time a widow," Chrysostom would have gone 
 with his friend into a monastery. Denied this 
 wish, he resolved, as far as possible, to live the life 
 of a religious recluse at home. He adopted an 
 ascetic diet and monastic discipline, and devoted 
 himself with his friend to a life of prayer, intense 
 study of the Scriptures and meditation. Diodorus, 
 a friend of the good bishop Meletius, and prior of 
 one of the monasteries near Antioch, directed their 
 studies. Chrysostom as a preacher owed as much, 
 
 38 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 and possibly more, to the teaching of Diodorus than 
 to that of Libanius. From Libanius he learned how 
 to speak eloquently, from Diodorus he learned how to 
 study the Bible whence he derived the substance of 
 his speech. Diodorus in fact taught him the right 
 method of exegesis, a method of literal common- 
 sense interpretation of the Scriptures, like that of 
 our English Bible scholars, in contrast to the alle- 
 gorical and mystical interpretation characteristic of 
 Origen and the Alexandrian School. He taught him 
 also to view the truth of God's word in its relation 
 to man's nature and needs, to see its practical 
 applications, and to weave the stuff it afforded into 
 garments suited to human wear in the various exe- 
 gencies of life as they arise. 
 
 Their great piety and gifts soon attracted the atten- 
 tion of the Church to Chrysostom and his friend 
 Basil, and, though so young, they were publicly 
 spoken of as fit to be made bishops. According to 
 the custom of that time they might any day be seized 
 and compelled to accept the high office. So Augus- 
 tine was dragged forcibly to the church, and ordained 
 to the bishopric in spite of his protesting entreaties 
 and tears. The two friends hearing what was in 
 the air, were filled with apprehension and alarm, 
 and agreed to act together, either to accept or evade 
 together the unwelcome honor. Chrysostom, how- 
 ever, broke his promise. When the officers of the 
 Church came to seize them, he contrived to have 
 Basil captured and made bishop while he himself 
 hid away and escaped. To the subsequent re- 
 proaches of his friend for having deceived him, he 
 
 39 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 boldly answered that it was "an excusable fraud," 
 which the good of the Church justified; and to soothe 
 and reconcile him wrote a treatise on the "Priest- 
 hood," showing its preeminent dignity, and declar- 
 ing the peculiar fitness of Basil to discharge the 
 duties of bishop. This questionable act is the only 
 blot on the early name of Chrysostom. It seems, 
 however, to have been in accord with the lax morality 
 of his age. 
 
 In a short time his mother died and he was free 
 to indulge his wish to live in religious retirement 
 from the world. Six years he thus spent in the 
 seclusion of monastery and hermit's cell in the 
 mountains to the south of Antioch. The day and 
 the greater part of the night he spent in study, fast- 
 ings and vigils. Bread and water formed his prin- 
 cipal food. His zeal for the mortification of his 
 fleshly appetite carried him to the extreme limit 
 of asceticism. In fact, he injured his health and 
 was obliged to return to the greater comfort of his 
 former home in Antioch. 
 
 About this time he was ordained a deacon by his 
 much revered bishop, Meletius, w^ho soon after died, 
 to be succeeded by Flavian, under whose direction 
 Chrysostom performed his diaconal functions. In 
 that day deacons "were essentially, as the name im- 
 plies, ministers or aids to the bishop, and were often 
 styled the bishops 'eyes,' or *ears,' or 'right hand.'" 
 Their duties consisted partly of service about the 
 sanctuary in connection with the public worship, and 
 services of relief among the sick and the poor in the 
 parish. They were required to search out and bring 
 
 40 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 to the notice of the bishop cases of distress, to dis- 
 tribute rehef under his direction and to report to 
 him moral and rehgious offenses. The office was a 
 good training school for the ministry of the Gospel. 
 During the five years that Chrysostom filled it, he 
 labored with great zeal and activity, and stored 
 his mind with a knowledge of human nature in its 
 great diversity and variety, as displayed in the man- 
 ners and practices of the people, that was of great 
 value to him afterwards in his preaching. 
 
 His Personal Qualities 
 
 He possessed a keenly observant and discrimi- 
 nating mind with a genial, kindly spirit and a power 
 of sympathetic imagination that enabled him vividly 
 to imagine with exactness and sympathy the cir- 
 cumstances and scenes amid which men moved and 
 lived. This is why he has ever been a favorite author 
 with historians like Gibbon, and great preachers like 
 Isaac Barrow and Cardinal Newman. They have 
 found in his works the richest suggestions and most 
 valuable matter suited to their purpose. He speaks 
 and "writes," says Newman, "as one who was ever 
 looking out with sharp but kindly eyes upon the 
 world of men and their history, and hence he has al- 
 ways something to produce about them, new or 
 old, to the purpose of his argument. I speak of his 
 versatile recognition of men one by one, for the sake 
 of that portion of good which has severally been 
 lodged in them; his eager contemplation of the 
 many things they do, effect, or produce; of all their 
 
 41 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 great works, as nations or as states; of the graphic 
 fidelity with which he notes them down upon the 
 tablets of his mind, and of the promptitude and pro- 
 priety with which he calls them up as arguments or 
 illustrations in the course of his teaching as the 
 occasion requires." 
 
 It was after such a long course of preparation, 
 covering fifteen years of study in the schools of 
 Libanius and Diodorus, and in the religious seclu- 
 sion of the monastery and hermit's cell, and five 
 years of practical training in the diaconate, in which 
 he exercised his powers of observation to such good 
 purpose, that he came at length upon the work of 
 the ministry, being ordained presbyter by Bishop 
 Flavian in 386, when he was in the fortieth year of 
 his age. The course of preparation seems to have 
 been long, but the work he was to do in the twenty 
 years that remained of his life was great. Those 
 twenty years were about evenly divided between 
 the offices of preacher at Antioch and of Archbishop 
 of Constantinople. Immediately after his ordination 
 he was appointed by his bishop, Flavian, to preach 
 in the principal church of the city where the bishop 
 himself officiated. Chrysostom at once rose to the 
 zenith of fame as a preacher, and for ten years his 
 pulpit labors were incessant with no abatement of 
 his popularity. 
 
 His Great Eloquence 
 
 "The people flocked to him," says Sozomen. "As 
 often as he preached he carried them away one and 
 all. They hung upon his words and could not have 
 
 42 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 enough of them. He held them spellbound to the 
 end." So close and all-absorbing was the attention 
 he commanded and so great the crowd that thronged 
 the church to hear him, that pickpockets plied their 
 trade right there in the church with great success. 
 
 Let us try to get a true and clear conception of his 
 personal appearance, manner, and qualities as a 
 preacher. Like many men of commanding genius, 
 Athanasius, John Wesley, Shleiermacher, Louis 
 XIV, Bonaparte, he was little of stature, but 
 of such dignity of bearing that he produced, as it 
 were, an illusion of greatness. When he was speak- 
 ing, especially, his witchery of speech made him 
 often seem majestic, reminding one of what Boswell 
 said of William Wilberforce: "I saw a mere shrimp 
 of a man mount the platform, but as I listened he 
 grew and grew until the shrimp became a whale." 
 Chrysostom's diminutive stature was the less notice- 
 able probabl}^ from the fact that he usually sat in 
 a raised position when preaching, while the people 
 stood, eagerly crowding as close as possible to him. 
 He had a large bald head with a broad lofty forehead, 
 deep-set piercing eyes, with a searching but benignant 
 look, and an expressive mouth. That mouth from 
 the epithet given him, "mouth of gold," was rich 
 in tone and most opulent in expression. 
 
 He possessed extraordinary fluency. A contem- 
 porary compares it to the inexhaustible flow of the 
 river Nile. And yet, as Cardinal Newman says: 
 
 "It was not by the fertility of his imagination, nor 
 the splendor of his diction that he gained the sur- 
 name of the * Mouth of Gold.'" His oratorical 
 
 43 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 power was but the instrument by which he readily, 
 gracefully, adequately expressed, expressed without 
 effort and with felicity, the keen feelings, the living 
 ideas, the earnest practical lessons which he had 
 to communicate to his hearers. He spoke because 
 his heart, his head, were brimful of things to speak 
 about. His unrivaled charm, as that of every 
 really eloquent man, lay in his singleness of purpose, 
 his fixed grasp of aim, his noble earnestness. 
 
 He combined in himself, as a study of his ser- 
 mons shows, the excellencies of several preachers. 
 He had the florid exuberance of Jeremy Taylor, the 
 fire and vehemence of Savonarola, the declamatory 
 splendor of Bossuet and the straightforward ear- 
 nestness and practical good sense of John Wesley. 
 
 He often displayed in speaking an eager and im- 
 petuous spirit like that of a soldier rushing to battle. 
 It was as if this son of a Roman soldier felt in him- 
 self the martial spirit of his father urging him on. 
 You seem to hear in his sentences the notes of the 
 bugle sounding the charge of the Roman legions. 
 A discriminating student of his life, himself a dis- 
 tinguished orator and preacher, commenting on this 
 characteristic of Chrysostom says: "There is some- 
 thing martial in all real oratory; the attack, the 
 earnest seizing of the situation, the amassing of the 
 powers, the gathering of manifold forces and hurling 
 them all with resistless strength against the foe — 
 this oftentimes constitutes the movement of the 
 real orator, and in Chrysostom's life there was this 
 martial power, not only in his tongue but also in his 
 achievements." 
 
 44 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 We here present to our readers one or two exam- 
 ples, asking them to remember while they are lis- 
 tening to or reading them, what a contemporary^ 
 says of Summerfield's eloquence, that "every at- 
 tempt thus to present the splendid effects of impas- 
 sioned eloquence is like gathering up dew drops, 
 which appear jewels and pearls on the grass, but run 
 to water in the hand; the essence and the elements 
 remain; but the grace, the sparkle, and the form are 
 gone." 
 
 Chrysostom enjoins it as a duty_upon every Chris- 
 tian to labor for the spiritual welfare of his fellow- 
 men. He insists that "Neither poverty nor human 
 station, nor business, nor family cares, nor bodily 
 infirmity can exempt one from the obligation of this 
 duty." "Say not," he says, "within thyself, I am 
 a man of the world; I have a wife and children, these 
 matters belong to the priests and the monks. The 
 Samaritan in the parable did not say 'Where are 
 the priests .f^' 'Where are the Pharisees.^' 'Where are 
 the Jewish authorities?' but seized the opportunity 
 of doing a good deed, as if it were a great advantage. 
 In like manner when you see anyone requiring 
 bodily or spiritual care, say not within thyself, ' Why 
 did not this, or that man attend to him?' But 
 deliver him from his infirmity. If you find a piece 
 of gold in your path you do not say, 'Why did not 
 some other person pick it up?' but you eagerly antici- 
 pate others by seizing it yourself. Even so in the 
 case of your fallen brethren, consider that you have 
 found a treasure in them and give the attention 
 necessary for their wants." 
 
 45 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Those who noisily crowded forward to the Lord's 
 Table he thus admonishes: "Approach with fear 
 and trembling, with fasting and prayer; not making 
 an uproar, hustling and jostling one another; con- 
 sider, O man, what kind of sacrifice thou art about 
 to handle; consider that thou, who art dust and ashes, 
 dost receive the body and blood of Christ." 
 
 To those who would fain hurry away from the 
 Eucharist before the service is done, he says : " What, 
 when Christ is present, and the angels are standing 
 by, and this awe-inspiring Table is spread before 
 you, and your brethren are still partaking of the 
 mysteries, will you hurry away?" 
 
 Though his style is exuberant, it is rarely redun- 
 dant; every word is a telling word. At times it is 
 strikingly epigrammatic. Examples: "The fire of 
 sin is great, but it is quenched by a few tears." 
 "Pain was given because of sin, yet through pain 
 sin is dissolved." "Riches are called possessions, 
 that we may possess them, not be possessed by them." 
 "You are master of much wealth; do not be a slave 
 to that whereof God has made you master." "Scrip- 
 ture relates the sins of saints, that we may fear; the 
 conversion of sinners, that we may hope." 
 
 He held a rational Scriptural theology — an im- 
 portant condition of success for the preacher. He 
 taught that "Man fell through his own indolent 
 negligence; but his nature was not thereby essen- 
 tially changed, it was only weakened." "Evil is 
 not an integral part of man, it is not an inherent 
 substantial force." "There is no constraint either 
 to holiness or to sin; neither does God compel to the 
 
 46 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 one, nor do the fleshly appetites compel to the 
 other." "It is the moral purpose that is perverted 
 when men sin. The whole burden of responsibility 
 in sin must be thrown on the moral purpose." "If 
 man's will was not unfettered, there would be no 
 merit in goodness and no blame in evil." "We do 
 not try to alter that which is by nature; sin, there- 
 fore, is not by nature, because by means of educa- 
 tion, laws and punishments we do not seek to alter 
 that. Though sin is not a part of man's nature, his 
 nature is readily inclined to evil. But this tendency 
 may be controlled by a healthy moral purpose." 
 
 While he thus insists upon the freedom of man's 
 will and his actual responsibility for his conduct, 
 Chrysostom also asserts human insuflficiency to 
 accomplish good without the divine assistance. He 
 describes the power of sin over the heart in the 
 strongest terms: "It is a heavy burden, more 
 oppressive than lead; it is more terrible than a 
 demon, it is a great demon; it is like fire. When 
 once it has got hold on the thoughts of the heart, 
 if it is not quenched, it spreads further and further, 
 and becomes increasingly difficult to subdue." 
 "Christ saw us perishing under the power of sin 
 and He took compassion on us. His redemption 
 plan embraces all, but it constrains no one. His 
 purpose is limited by man's freedom of choice. 
 God's election is not compulsory but persuasive. 
 Only they who are drawn and taught by the Father 
 can come to Christ; but away with the pretense 
 that those who are not thus drawn and taught are 
 emancipated from blame; for this very thing, the 
 
 47 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 being led and taught, depends on their own moral 
 choice." He maintains the equal divinity and 
 distinct personality of the Holy Ghost. He main- 
 tains also both the humanity and the divinity of 
 Christ. "Our nature could not have been elevated 
 to the divine, if the Savior had not really partaken 
 of it; neither could He have brought help to our race 
 if He had appeared in the unveiled glory of His 
 God-head; for man would have perished at the 
 brightness of His presence." 
 
 In regard to the divinity of Christ and his con- 
 tinued presence and activity in the world, he holds 
 the most orthodox opinions. 
 
 In his "Homilies against the Arians," he thus 
 speaks of the obstacles overcome by Christianity 
 and the proof which the wonderful successes of the 
 Church afford as to the divinity of the founder of 
 it: "In a short space of time Christianity had 
 abolished ancestral customs, plucked up deeply- 
 rooted habits, overturned altars and temples, caused 
 unclean rites and ceremonials to vanish away. The 
 customs abolished were not only venerated but pleas- 
 ant; yet these were abandoned for a religion which 
 substituted fasting for enjoyment, poverty for money 
 getting, temperance for lasciviousness, meekness 
 for wrath, benevolence for ill-will. Men, enervated 
 by luxury and accustomed to the broad way, had 
 been converted into the narrow, rugged path by 
 multitudes under the whole heaven. These mighty 
 results had been wrought by a few unlearned, obscure 
 men, without rank, without money, without elo- 
 quence. And all this in the teeth of opposition 
 
 48 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 of the most varied kind. Yet in spite of persecu- 
 tion and the disruption of social ties, the new faith 
 flourished. How contrary to the common course 
 of events, that He who was despised, weak and put 
 to an ignominious death, should now be honored 
 and adored in all regions of the earth! Emperors, 
 who have made laws and altered the constitution 
 of States, who have ruled nations by their nod, in 
 whose hands was the power of life and death, pass 
 away; their images are in time destroyed, their 
 actions forgotten, their adherents despised, their 
 very names buried in oblivion, present grandeur suc- 
 ceeded by nothingness. In the case of Jesus Christ 
 all is reversed. During his lifetime all seemed 
 failure and degredation, but a career of glory and 
 triumph succeeded his death. How could such un- 
 precedented marvels have come to pass but through 
 the divine power and in obedience to that word of 
 God which is creative of actual results? Just as 
 when he said, *Let the earth bring forth grass,' the 
 wilderness became a garden, so when the expression 
 of his purpose had gone forth, 'I will build my 
 church, ' straightway the process began, and though 
 tyrants and people, sophists and orators, custom and 
 religion had been arrayed against it, yet the word, 
 going forth like fire, consumed the thorns, and 
 scattered the good seed over the purified soil." 
 
 The most memorable occurrence that happened 
 during the ten years of Chrysostom's pastorate 
 in Antioch was the "Riot of the Statues," in 387 
 A. D. It arose in this way: In the following year 
 of 388 A. D., the emperor, Theodosius the Great, 
 
 49 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 would celebrate the tenth anniversary of his own 
 reign, and the fifth of that of Arcadius, his son, 
 whom he had associated with himself in the empire. 
 The army on such occasions claimed a donative of 
 five gold pieces to each soldier. To raise the con- 
 siderable amount thus required, Theodosius made 
 a special levy upon the great cities. The edict 
 which proclaimed the levy made upon Antioch, 
 produced there a great outcry of discontent. The 
 men openly uttered their complaints, and the women 
 loudly lamented the hardship and ruin thus imposed 
 on the city. A crowd gathered, which soon became a 
 riotous mob and committed various acts of violence. 
 The rioters rushed to the pretorium and forced their 
 way to the governor's audience room demanding an 
 abrogation or abatement of the levy. The governor 
 was not there; but they were confronted by the 
 statues of the imperial family set up there to give 
 dignity to the place. A momentary awe checked 
 and subdued them to silence, until a boy in the 
 crowd hurled a stone at one of the statues by which 
 it was shattered. The spell of reverence was thus 
 broken, and the mob was emboldened to other acts 
 of vandalism, until the different images of the Em- 
 peror and his father and the beloved Empress, who 
 had recently died, were thrown down, dragged in the 
 streets and mutilated. Soon their rage spent itself 
 and then there came a revulsion of terror and dismay. 
 Such acts of insult to the imperial family were treason 
 of the worst kind. The Emperor, though a nominal 
 Christian and man of noble qualities, possessed a 
 quick and ungovernable temper. In his paroxysms 
 
 50 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 of rage he showed no mercy. He might pardon the 
 insult done to himself, but he was not likely to for- 
 give that done to his noble father and his beloved 
 wife, Flacilla, for whose recent loss his heart was still 
 sore. A vision of direful retribution, of destruction 
 and slaughter, such as was to befall Thessalonica 
 three years later through the rage of Theodosius, 
 arose before the mental sight of the terror-stricken 
 city, and the people gave themselves up to feelings 
 of anguish and despair. In this emergency the 
 power of Christianity to soothe, control, comfort, 
 and encourage was signally displayed. The aged 
 bishop, Flavian, hastened in the depth of winter 
 to Constantinople to intercede with the wrathful 
 Emperor in behalf of the offending city, and Chrys- 
 ostom, meanwhile, day after day, addressed the 
 people who thronged to hear him speak upon the 
 requirements of the situation. It was his oppor- 
 tunity to turn them to God, and he faithfully im- 
 proved it. His eloquence sounded through the whole 
 gamut of encouragement and persuasion. His words 
 fell upon their anxious souls like the rays of the 
 sun upon the darkness of night, by which the morn- 
 ing Cometh. He urges them to a hearty repentance 
 of their sin. He wrestles to win their souls; he con- 
 vinces them of their past follies; he leads them to 
 hope in God. Thus he saves them, whatever the 
 Emperor might do. When Flavian returns at the 
 end of some weeks with the imperial forgiveness, 
 he finds the city chastened and purified, and three 
 thousand converts ready for baptism. During his 
 absence Chrysostom's preaching had infused in 
 
 51 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 them a new spirit and life. It had proved itself a 
 marvelous power to control and calm the seething 
 vortex of passion. It had accomplished more to tran- 
 quilize and correct the city than many legions of sol- 
 diers would have done. 
 
 These sermons, relating to the "Riot of the Stat- 
 ues," have been preserved for us by the shorthand 
 reporters of that time, probably revised by the 
 preacher and published subsequently by his consent. 
 We are privileged to read careful translations of 
 them. They may be found in the ninth volume of 
 *'The Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers." 
 
 In them the eloquence of Chrysostom probably 
 reached the high-water mark. We are tempted to 
 quote some passages from them, in spite of the 
 peril of excess and the certain danger of utterly 
 failing to give any true idea of the eloquence of the 
 preacher in the absence of that unreportable per- 
 sonal charm so essential to the impression. 
 
 He thus describes the change produced in Antioch 
 when the fear and dread of the Emperor's wrath 
 had smitten it with silence and solitude: "Aforetime 
 there was nothing happier than our city; now noth- 
 ing is more melancholy than it has become. As 
 bees buzzing around their hives, so before this, the 
 inhabitants flitted daily about the forum, and all 
 pronounced us happy in being so numerous. But 
 behold, that hive hath now becdme solitary; for 
 even as smoke drives away the bees, so hath fear 
 dispersed our swarms. . . . They desert it as if 
 it were a dungeon; they leap out of it as out of a fire. 
 . . . Our calamity has become an enigma — a 
 
 52 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 flight without enemies; an expulsion of inhabitants 
 without a battle. . . . We have not seen the 
 watch fires of barbarians nor beheld the face of 
 enemies; yet we suffer what those do who have so 
 been smitten. . . . There is a silence big with 
 horror. Loneliness is everywhere. That dear hum 
 of the multitude is stifled; and even as though we 
 had gone under the earth, speechlessness hath taken 
 possession of the town, while all men seem as stones. 
 . . . For he who has been insulted hath not his 
 equal in dignity upon earth. ... On this 
 account, then, let us take refuge in the King who 
 is above. Him let us call to our aid." 
 
 Of what gives dignity to a city he says: "Learn 
 what the dignity of a city is, and then thou wilt see 
 clearly that if the inhabitants thereof do not betray 
 it, no one else can take away its honor. Dost thou 
 wish to learn the dignity of this city.^ I will tell it 
 exactly, not that thou mayest know it merely, but 
 that thou mayest emulate it also. This it is: 'It 
 came to pass that the disciples were first called 
 Christians at Antioch.' Dost thou wish to hear 
 further of another dignity belonging to this city? A 
 grievous famine was once approaching, and the 
 inhabitants of Antioch determined, as each had the 
 means, to send relief to the saints at Jerusalem. 
 . . . They also sent Paul and Barnabas to Jeru- 
 salem, and cautioned the apostles to provide that 
 pure doctrine should be distributed over the world. 
 This is the dignity of this city. This makes it a 
 metropolis, not in the earth only, but as related to 
 the heavens. ... I have heard many saying 
 
 53 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 in the Forum: 'Alas for thee, Antioch! What hath 
 befallen thee?' When I heard, I smiled at the puerile 
 spirit, which gave vent to such words. When thou 
 seest men dancing, drunken, singing, blaspheming, 
 perjuring themselves, lying, then use such words as 
 these: *Alas for thee, O city! What hath befallen 
 thee?' But if thou seest the Forum containing 
 meek, modest, temperate persons, even though they 
 be few, then pronounce the city blessed. When 
 you wish to extol it; tell me not of the suburb of 
 Daphne, nor of the height and multitude of its cy- 
 presses, nor of its flowing fountains of waters; nor 
 of the great population which inhabits the town, 
 nor of the safety of its markets and the abundance 
 of its wares. But, if you can, speak of virtue, meek- 
 ness, almsgiving, nightly visions, prayers, sobriety, 
 true wisdom of soul, for these things commend the 
 city." 
 
 He thus commends the example of Nineveh to 
 Antioch, as worthy of its imitation. "Thus was that 
 city agitated when it heard the prophet's voice, but 
 instead of being injured, it was benefited by fear, 
 for that fear became the cause of its safety. The 
 threatening effected the deliverance from peril; the 
 sentence of overthrow put a stop to the overthrow. 
 . . . They did not flee from the city as we are 
 doing, but remaining in it they caused it to stand. 
 They fled not from their buildings, but from their 
 sins. . . . They trusted for safety not to a 
 change of habitations, but to a change of habits." 
 
 He puts into the mouth of their good bishop 
 Flavian, interceding in their behalf, this appeal to 
 
 54 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 the offended Emperor: "Were your statues thrown 
 down? You have it m your power to set up others 
 more splendid. If you remit the offenses of those 
 who have done you this injury, and take not revenge 
 on them, they will erect a statue to you, not in the 
 forum, of brass or of gold, or inlaid with gems, but 
 one arrayed in that robe, which is more precious 
 then anything material, of clemency and tender 
 mercy. Every man will thus exalt you within his 
 own soul; and you will have as many statues as there 
 are men who inhabit, or who hereafter shall inhabit, 
 the entire world." 
 
 He thus exhorts them to find in the bee a good 
 model for their imitation: "Whilst from the ant 
 thou learnest industry, take from the bee a lesson 
 at once of industry, and of mutual helpfulness. For 
 it is not more for herself than for us that the bee 
 labors and is every day weary; which is a thing 
 especially proper for a Christian, not to seek his 
 own things only, but the things of others. As, then, 
 she traverses the meadows, that she may provide 
 a banquet for another, so also do thou, O man. If 
 thou hast accumulated wealth, expend it upon 
 others. If thou hast the faculty of teaching, bury 
 not the talent, but bring it forth publicly for those 
 who need it. If thou hast any other special endow- 
 ment, become useful by it to those who need the 
 fruit of thy labor. Seest thou not that for this 
 very reason the bee is more honored than other 
 insects — not because she labors merely, but because 
 she labors for others? For the spider also labors, 
 and spreads his fine textures upon the walls, sur- 
 
 55 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS ! 
 
 passing the utmost skill of women; but he is stil: 
 without estimation, since his work is no way profit- 
 able to us. Such are they who labor and are weary, 
 but only for themselves." 
 
 He thus touches upon the folly of the passion for 
 riches: "A covetous man is one thing; a rich man is 
 quite another. A covetous man is never rich. H( 
 is in want of many things, and while he needs sc 
 many things he cannot be rich. A covetous man if 
 a keeper, not a master, of wealth; its slave, not itj 
 lord. He would sooner give one a portion of hh 
 flesh than of his hidden gold. As though he were 
 ordered and constrained by some one to touch noth 
 ing of these concealed treasures, with all diligence 
 he keeps them, abstaining from his own as if it were 
 another's. Yet, indeed, they are not his own; foi 
 what he can neither determine to bestow upon others 
 nor yet to distribute to the needy, though in con- 
 sequence he encounter punishment, how can he 
 possibly count that his own? . . . Abrahan 
 was rich, but he was not covetous. . . . This 
 man let us imitate, beloved. His lodging was rude 
 but it was more distinguished than kingly saloons 
 No king has entertained angels; but he, dwelling 
 under an oak, and having only briefly pitched his 
 tent there, was thought worthy of that honor; nol 
 receiving the honor on account of the meanness oi 
 his abode, but enjoying the benefit on accouni 
 of the magnificence of it and the riches thai 
 were therein laid up. Let us adorn our souls 
 before our houses. What doth thy house profil 
 thee, O man.^ Wilt thou take it with thee wher 
 
 56 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 thou departest? But thy soul thou shalt surely 
 carry with thee." 
 
 Speaking of the visible universe, he says: "Seest 
 thou its greatness? Seest thou its beauty? Marvel 
 at the power of Him who made it, at the wisdom 
 which adorned it. This it was which the prophet 
 signified when he said: 'The heavens declare the 
 glory of God.' How, then, tell me, do they declare 
 it? Voice they have none; mouth they possess not; 
 no tongue is theirs; how then do they declare? By 
 means of the spectacle itself. For when thou seest 
 the beauty, the breadth, the height, the position, 
 the form, the stability thereof during so long a 
 period, being instructed by the spectacle, thou 
 adorest him who created a body so fair and strange. 
 The heavens may be silent, but the sight of them 
 emits a voice that is louder than a trumpet's sound, 
 instructing us not by the ear, but through the eyes. 
 . Upon this volume the unlearned as well as 
 the wise man shall be able to look, the poor man as 
 well as the rich man, and wherever any one may 
 chance to come, there looking upwards towards the 
 heavens, he will receive a sufficient lesson from the 
 view of them." 
 
 After various admonitions of this sort, he adds: 
 "Say these things to others, and observe them 
 yourselves. I know that in this pla^e (i. e. the 
 church) we become more reverent, and lay aside 
 our evil habits (as profanity and slander). But 
 what is to be desired is this, that we depart taking 
 this reverence with us to where we especially need 
 it. For those who carry water do not seek merely 
 
 57 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to have their vessels full when they are near the 
 fountain, and then empty them when they reach 
 home; but they set them down there with particular 
 care, lest they be overturned, and their labor become 
 useless. Let us imitate this process, and when we 
 reach home let us strictly retain what has here been 
 spoken; since, if ye have here gotten full, but return 
 empty to your houses, having the vessels of your 
 understanding there destitute of what here you have 
 heard, there will be for you no advantage from your 
 present replenishment. Show me religion, not at 
 the season, but in the time of personal practice." 
 
 These quotations will suffice to show the remark- 
 able qualities of the man and his deserved eminence. 
 What powers of creative inagination and of original 
 thought! What affluence of mind in beautiful and 
 suggestive ideas pertinent to his theme and strength- 
 ening his argument! Not only was the flow of his 
 words like that of the Nile, inexhaustible, but his 
 mind like the Nile was charged with richness, which 
 it dropped in its progress all along its course, for 
 the fertilization of truth to the production of har- 
 vests of virtue. 
 
 A study of his sermons and of their effect gives the 
 impression that Chrysostom was not only a great 
 preacher for the age in which he lived, but one of the 
 greatest of all the Christian centuries. In this 
 opinion we are confirmed by the judgment of the 
 late Dr. R. S. Storrs, who says that "among the 
 great preachers of the world he held nearly, if not 
 quite, the foremost place. I have read many ser- 
 mons of Augustine and Gregory, not a few of the 
 
 58 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 great medieval preachers, from Bernard of Clair- 
 vaux to John Tanler; a goodly number from Bos- 
 suet, Massillon and other famous preachers of France, 
 with many of the English pulpit, from Taylor and 
 South to Robert Hall, Newman, Liddon and the 
 others, with our own Phillips Brooks, and I do not 
 know, for myself, where to find certainly the supe- 
 lior, in this special function, of this presbyter in 
 Antioch, fifteen hundred years ago." 
 
 A remarkable thing about the sermons of Chrysos- 
 tom is their undecayed, enduring vitality. They are 
 not dry and lifeless like the specimens of an her- 
 barium, to which old sermons are often compared, 
 and justly, for their lack of interest to a present-day 
 reader. "His words," says Dr. Storrs, "were 
 living things; they are so still. There is a marvel- 
 ous modernness in his sermons. No man can read 
 them after so many ages without feeling that he 
 who shot these shafts lived by the faith of the Son 
 of God." 
 
 The good such a ministry wrought in ten years 
 there in Antioch cannot be estimated. It was 
 simply immense, and stamped with God's manifest 
 approval. Chrysostom became more and more 
 the pride of the city as the fame of his eloquence 
 extended abroad. In 397 A. D. at the death of 
 Nectarius, the Archbishop of Constantinople, he 
 was appointed his successor. The Eunuch, Eutro- 
 pius, the prime-minister of Arcadius, had heard him 
 in Antioch some years before, and believing that he 
 would add luster to the eastern capital and be found 
 subservient to his wishes, he persuaded the emperor 
 
 59 V . 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS i 
 
 to place him in that high ecclesiastical position.; 
 The place was not of Chrysostom's seeking; indeed; 
 had it been openly offered him, he would have shrunk; 
 from the responsible charge, as in his young man-; 
 hood he had shrunk from and evaded being made ai 
 bishop. But the option now was not given him,' 
 any more than it had been given in those early 
 years to his friend Basil. Knowing that the people 
 of Antioch would not willingly give up their favorite 
 preacher, Eutropius got him away by stratagem. 
 He sent word to Asterius, the imperial governor of 
 Antioch, to invite Chrysostom to visit a martyr's 
 shrine with him just outside the city. Well pleased 
 to make the pious pilgrimage the preacher unwit- 
 tingly accepted the invitation. At the holy shrine 
 he was seized by imperial officers and in spite of his 
 remonstrances hurried off by an escort of soldiers 
 to Constantinople, and forcibly ordained to the 
 Patriarchate of the Eastern Church. ' 
 
 The dignity to which he was thus summoned 
 and in which he was installed by envious ecclesias- 
 tics was not a bed of roses. It was, in fact, a bed of 
 thorns to him. He was too little of a courtier and 
 too much of a saint to find it otherwise. The view 
 of Eutropius and of the Emperor of the nature and 
 obligations of the sacred office was much different 
 from that of Chrysostom. They looked upon it as 
 an ecclesiastical appendage to the court, and be- 
 lieved that the archbishop should be servile and 
 pliant to the behests of the court. He, on the other 
 hand, held that Christ alone was his Master; that he 
 should aim chiefly to please him; that it was in- 
 
 60 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 umbent upon him as a faithful shepherd to watch 
 ver the spiritual welfare of the flock committed to 
 is care; to rebuke sin and vice wherever found; to 
 e uncompromising in his assertion of the para- 
 lount claims and obligations of religion upon all 
 like, the high and low, rich and poor, those who 
 welt in palaces as well as those who lived in the 
 leanest hovels. 
 
 So sharply differing, it was inevitable that ere 
 )ng he should come into collision with the court 
 ad its pampered minions. At first, however, 
 ^ery thing seemed fair and lovely. The eloquence 
 lat had charmed his hearers in Antioch was greeted 
 ith admiration and applause in Constantinople, 
 ad for a short time he enjoyed the highest minis- 
 jrial success and popularity. The Emperor and the 
 tnpress performed with zeal the religious observ- 
 nces he recommended. At his suggestion a pil- 
 rimage on foot was made by night to the shrine of a 
 lartyr located a considerable distance from the city, 
 'hose who engaged in it formed a vast torch-light 
 rocession, led by the archbishop and the Empress 
 nd her court. Chrysostom was in raptures at such 
 ocile and exemplary piety, and expressed his satis- 
 iction in a laudatory discourse when they reached 
 lie shrine at dawn of day. 
 
 "Of what shall I most discourse?" he exclaimed. 
 The virtue of the martyrs, the alacrity of the city, 
 be zeal of the Empress, the concourse of the nobles, 
 tie worsting of the devils? Women more delicate 
 ban wax, leaving their comfortable homes, emulated 
 be stoutest men in the eagerness with which they 
 
 61 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 made this long pilgrimage on foot. Nobles, leaving 
 their chariots, their lictors, their attendants, mingled 
 in the common crowd. And she, who wears the 
 diadem and is arrayed in purple, has not consented 
 along the whole route to be separated from the rest. 
 The procession moved along like a stream of fire, or 
 a continuous golden chain; the moon shone down 
 upon the crowd of the faithful, and in the midst was 
 the Empress, more brilliant than the moon itself, 
 for what was the moon compared to a soul adorned 
 with such faith .f^" 
 
 Only for a little while did this mutual admiration 
 continue. As Chrysostom became accustomed to 
 his new position and more familiar with the faults 
 and sins of those to whom he ministered, and as he 
 strove to correct them by rebukes and remon- 
 strances, then coolness and estrangement, and at 
 last bitter enmity arose. He found many of the 
 clergy to be worldly, and indulging in practices that 
 dishonored religion. Attempting to reform them, 
 he incurred their hate and the hate of those who 
 wanted religious guides that would not reprove 
 them for sin. 
 
 Many Christians were passionately fond of the 
 circus and the theatre, and indulged their liking for 
 them to the neglect of religion, the loss of all 
 spirituality and the leading astray of others. On 
 Good Friday, near the end of the first year of Chrys- 
 ostom's episcopate, they forsook the church and 
 its solemn service for those places of amusement. 
 On the next Sunday, having remarked upon the 
 impiety of such conduct, he thus called to account 
 
 62 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 each guilty offender: "What defence will you be 
 able to make when you have to render an account 
 of that day's work? For thee the sun rose, the 
 moon lit up the night, choirs of stars spangled the 
 sky; for thee the winds blew and rivers ran, seeds 
 germinated, plants grew, and the whole course of 
 nature kept in proper order; but thou, when crea- 
 tion is ministering to thy needs, thou fulfillest the 
 pleasure of the devil. Say not that few have 
 wandered from the fold. Though it be only one, 
 yet it is a soul for which this visible world was created, 
 for which laws and statutes and the diverse opera- 
 tions of God have been put in motion, yea, for whose 
 sake God spared not His only Son. Therefore I 
 loudly declare that if anyone after this admonition 
 shall desert the fold for the pestilent vice of the 
 theatre, I will not administer to him the holy mys- 
 teries or allow him to touch the holy table, but will 
 expell him as shepherds drive out the diseased sheep 
 from the fold, lest they should contaminate the rest." 
 Such severity toward sin and vice and worldly 
 amusements aroused hate and opposition. He 
 added to these the dislike of the court by his own 
 austerity. His predecessor, Nectarius, used to fre- 
 quent the court, and to give grand entertainments 
 to the nobles and high officers, and indulged him- 
 self in luxurious habits of living. Chrysostom, 
 always simple and abstemious in his habits, usually 
 ate in solitude, and refused to set foot at court except 
 upon business of the Church. He would not flatter 
 the great by entertaining them, nor would he adorn 
 their feasts. Thus he gradually fell out with the 
 
 63 
 
 \y 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 great court officers, with the Empress Eudoxia, 
 and with the worldly clergy, though he warmly 
 attached to himself the common people, and the 
 saintly men and women of every class. 
 
 Eutropius, the prime minister, vexed at not 
 finding him subservient to his wishes, showed his 
 resentment by depriving St. Sophia of its ancient 
 right of asylum. But by the irony of fate, he him- 
 self was the first to need that asylum, and Chrysos- 
 tom generously asserted and obtained it for him, 
 when disgraced and thrown from power because of 
 the enmity of Eudoxia. Chrysostom, ruled by 
 the instinct of a preacher, could not refrain from 
 improving the occasion to impress an important 
 lesson. On the day following the minister's downfall, 
 which was Sunday, when the great church of St. 
 Sophia was thronged with an eager, expectant con- 
 gregation, suddenly the curtain that separated the 
 nave from the chancel, was partly drawn aside and 
 disclosed to the view of the multitude the cowering 
 form of the wretched Eutropius clinging to one of 
 the columns which supported the holy table. Then 
 Chrysostom pointing to him as a visible example of 
 fallen grandeur exclaimed: "Where now are the 
 pomp and circumstance of yonder man's office .^^ 
 Where his torch-light festivities .f^ Where the ap- 
 plause which once greeted him.f^ W^here the stir 
 that attended his approach in the streets, the 
 flattering compliments paid him in the amphi- 
 theatre? They are gone, all gone! One rude blast 
 has shattered all the leaves, and shows us the tree 
 stripped quite bare and shaken to its very roots. 
 
 64 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 These things were but as shadows which flitted away, 
 as bubbles which burst, as cobwebs which rent. 
 Therefore we chant this heavenly strain: 'Vanity 
 of vanities, all is vanity.' For these are words 
 which should be inscribed on our walls and on our 
 garments, in the market place, by the wayside, on 
 our doors, above all in the conscience and engraved 
 upon the mind of everyone." As showing the pro- 
 tecting power of the Church and illustrating the 
 wholesome truths of religion, the suppliant was an 
 ornament to the altar. The spectacle of one lately 
 at the pinnacle of power now crouching with fear 
 like a hare or a frog, chained to yonder pillar not 
 by fetters but by fright, would repress arrogance, 
 and subdue pride, and teach them the truth of the 
 Scripture: "All flesh is grass, and all the glory of 
 man as the flower of grass." 
 
 The fall of Eutropius but increased the pride of 
 Eudoxia. She ruled the weak-minded emperor, 
 and through him the affairs of state. But she could 
 not rule Chrysostom, nor make him connive at her 
 sins. If she committed an offense against morals 
 and religion, he censured her like any other offender. 
 At this she grew first cool, and then furious at the 
 preacher. She was to Chrysostom what Jezebel 
 was to Elijah, or Herodias to John the Baptist, and 
 both of these epithets he is said (but without good 
 proof) to have bestowed upon her. Through her 
 influence his path was more and more thorny. His 
 enemies, having her countenance, plotted his de- 
 struction. Theophilus, Archbishop of Alexandria, 
 took the lead, having associated with him a disrep- 
 
 65 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 utable crowd of bishops and ecclesiastics whom 
 Chrysostom had mortally offended by his rebukes 
 and discipline for their corrupt practices. They 
 gathered in a synod, in a suburb of Chalcidon, at a 
 place called "The Oak," and there this " Synod of the 
 Oak" framed charges against Chrysostom and sum- 
 moned him to appear before them and make answer 
 to the indictment. The charges were false, or ab- 
 surd, but as there was no probability of his having 
 a fair trial before such a tribunal, Chrysostom 
 refused to appear before them and was condemned 
 for contumacy. The synod decreed that he should 
 be deposed from his office and called upon the Em- 
 peror to execute the decree. He, ruled by Eudoxia, 
 performed their bidding, and Chrysostom was se- 
 cretly arrested and hurried away into exile. 
 
 When the people of the city learned of the ban- 
 ishment of their beloved preacher, great was their 
 indignation and loud their cry for his return. "Bet- 
 ter that the sun cease to shine," they said, "than 
 that our Chrysostom's mouth should be stopped." 
 And they crowded the approaches to the imperial 
 palace as they pressed their demand. Heaven 
 itself seemed to second the demand. An earth- 
 quake occurred which shook the city, and violently 
 rocked the very bed on which the Empress slept. 
 Terrified at what she thought a manifestation of 
 the wrath of heaven she added her voice to that of 
 the people for Chrysostom's recall, and even wrote 
 a letter entreating his return. "I remember the 
 baptism of my children by thy hands," she said. 
 "God whom I serve is witness of my tears." Re- 
 
 66 
 
CHRYSOSTOM 
 
 called in haste, he returned to Constantinople in 
 triumph amid the joyous acclamations of the people. 
 
 But the peace made with him by the Empress 
 proved to be only a hollow truce. In her heart 
 she hated him still, and was ready to break with him 
 at the first opportunity. As there can be no con- 
 cord betwixt Christ and Belial, it inevitably came 
 very soon. The occasion was the erection of a 
 statue of the Empress before the Church of St. 
 Sophia, inaugurated with heathenish ceremony, 
 which Chrysostom condemned. Fierce was her 
 resentment when the report of his censure was 
 brought to her, and from that time she relentlessly 
 pursued him until his death. He was exiled again 
 after a few months to Cucusus, a lonely mountain 
 town on the borders of Cilicia. Hearing that he was 
 cheered there by visits, letters, and gifts from his 
 faithful friends, the implacable Empress had him 
 removed thence b}^ brutal soldiers to Pityus on the 
 Caucasus, the most dreary spot in the empire. The 
 journey with its hardships and privations was too 
 much for his feeble body; he died on the way, 
 September 14, 407, in his sixtieth year, his last 
 words being: "Glory to God for all things," ex- 
 pressive of the sweetness of his spirit and the resig- 
 nation with which he bore his sufferings. 
 
 Thirty years after his death, the relics of Chrysos- 
 tom were brought back with great pomp to Constan- 
 tinople at the command of the then reigning Em- 
 peror, Theodosius H, the son of Eudoxia. When 
 they were deposited in the church appointed to 
 receive them, the Emperor kneeling humbly and 
 
 67 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 reverently above the reliquary, implored forgive- 
 ness for the injuries which his parents had done to 
 the saint whose ashes it held. That kneeling 
 Emperor typifies well the attitude of the Christian 
 world toward the illustrious saint. He is numbered 
 among the four great Fathers of the Christian 
 Church by both the Greek and the Roman branches 
 of it; he is extolled for the impartial purity and in- 
 corruptible integrity of his episcopal rule as well as 
 for his surpassing eloquence, and spoken of generally 
 with great respect by those held in highest honor. 
 Great historians, like Gibbon and Milman, and great 
 scholars and preachers, like Isaac Barrow, J. H. New- 
 man and R. S. Storrs have been enthusiastic students 
 of his works and admirers of his character. 
 
 There are few men in the history of the world 
 whose names are more deservedly illustrious. To 
 be forever a good example of faithfulness to duty 
 and of noble Christian character, to continue 
 through many centuries to be an instructor and 
 inspirer of mankind by one's imperishable utterances, 
 to have them the delight and nourishing food of 
 successive generations of scholars and preachers — 
 there are few achievements of men equal to this. 
 In the firmament of the past on which the names of 
 men of all degrees of greatness and glory are em- 
 blazoned, this man appears, therefore, as a star of 
 the first magnitude, whose light neither the gathering 
 mists of time nor the darkness of oblivion, which 
 soon or late hides from human gaze most of those 
 stars in the sky, can dim or quench. It remains a 
 splendid beneficent beacon light for all time. 
 
 68 
 
Ill 
 
 ^BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
Ill 
 
 BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 Among the great preachers whose names shed 
 splendor upon the Christian faith, Bernard of 
 Clair vaux holds a very high place. No name 
 stood higher in the Christian world in the age in 
 which he appeared, and since his death his fame 
 has lingered down to the present time like a beauti- 
 ful afterglow from his immense reputation and 
 influence with his contemporaries. This long 
 lingering splendor is a sure proof of his real great- 
 ness. Only the true giants among men, as well 
 as the giants among mountains, retain so long the 
 halo of glory that attracts the wondering gaze of 
 the world. In influence he ranks next to Augustine 
 in the history of Latin Christianity, whose scholars 
 and ecclesiastics affectionately speak of him as 
 "the last of the Fathers." 
 
 Born in 1091, in the last decade of the 11th 
 century, his childhood was cradled and largely 
 passed amid the intense excitement and religious 
 enthusiasm created by the first crusade, in which 
 his father, Tescelin, a noble knight and vassal of 
 the great Duke of Burgundy, was engaged, and 
 lost his life. His mother, Aletta or Ale the, a woman 
 of rare beauty of character and of deep piety, con- 
 secrated him on his birthday with passionate de- 
 
 71 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 votion to a religious life. This consecration held 
 him fast in spite of the strong allurements of arms 
 in that warlike age, or of study, to the charm of 
 which he was deeply sensible. 
 
 From both parents Bernard inherited rare quali- 
 ties. From his father, Tescelin, masculine courage, 
 energy and a martial spirit, united with a sobriety 
 of judgment and magnanimity of mind that fitted 
 him for leadership; from his mother, Aletta, — be- 
 sides elegance of person, beauty of features, a radi- 
 ant countenance and gracious manners, — a love of 
 nature that amounted to a passion, an affectionate, 
 tender, spirit and ardent religious sensibilities. 
 "To her he owed it, under God," says Dr. Storrs, 
 "that while strong with the strongest, he was im- 
 passioned and fond as the most ardent woman, and 
 it was her spirit in him which sighed and sorrowed, 
 or rose to summits of Christian triumph." (R. S. 
 Storrs, D.D., "Bernard of Clairvaux.") 
 
 He was as happy in his place of birth in the neigh- 
 borhood of Dijon, the capital city of Burgundy, as 
 in his parentage. "The skies of Burgundy," says 
 the historian, "judging from the illustrious peo- 
 ple it has produced, have for centuries ripened 
 wits as well as wines." Besides Bernard and the 
 illustrious warriors and churchmen of his own and 
 earlier times that shed their luster upon it, there 
 is a splendid galaxy of names belonging to more 
 recent epochs. Bossuet was born there, and Buffon, 
 and Madam de Sevigne and Lamartine; and there 
 originated the order of the Golden Fleece, insti- 
 tuted three centuries after Bernard for the glory 
 
 72 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 of Knighthood and of the Church, representing 
 in name at least, the wealth and the warmth of the 
 prosperous province. 
 
 In his father's Castle of Fontaines, the third son 
 in a family of six sons and a daughter, Bernard 
 grew up amid the choicest influences and the highest 
 social advantages that the times could give. While 
 he was yet a child his father was taken from him, 
 and the care and responsibility of his training 
 devolved on his mother. She deeply impressed 
 the stamp of her own spiritual character upon him. 
 "If ever a mother's wish and prayer and Christian 
 counsel determined the character and career of a 
 son," says Dr. Storrs, *' those of the mother of 
 Bernard determined his. After her death, which 
 occurred while he was still a youth, her image re- 
 mained vividly with him. He remembered her 
 words and meditated affectionately on her plans 
 for himself." For a little time, as he was just enter- 
 ing manhood, he seemed to turn away from those 
 plans and to be drawn by the example of two older 
 brothers to a martial career, upon which they had 
 entered. The martial spirit, which he had inherited 
 from his father, and the spirit of the times impelled 
 him that way. But his mother's memory brought 
 him back to the religious life to which she had dedi- 
 cated him. The story of his conversion is interesting : 
 "He was riding toward the camp of the Duke of 
 Burgundy, to join his brothers who were already 
 there, when the image of his mother, disappointed 
 and reproving, took possession of his mind. He 
 retired to a church by the roadside to pray, and 
 
 73 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 from that hour his course was determined and his 
 purpose unchangeable to lead a religious life." 
 
 In that age, a religious life meant retirement 
 from the world to the seclusion and ascetic practices, 
 the fastings, the vigils and strict regulations of a 
 monastery. To this Bernard resolved to give him- 
 self. He purposed, however, not to go alone, and 
 with sublime courage he resolved to win to the 
 same religious life he had embraced those two elder 
 brothers whose example had for a while turned his 
 heart away from it toward a military career. This 
 was not an easy thing to do. His oldest brother, 
 Guido, was already married and the father of chil- 
 dren; his next brother, Gerard, was a daring soldier, 
 with a martial spirit and soaring ambitions, and 
 already in high repute for wisdom and bravery in 
 action. But Bernard was one whom great diffi- 
 culties only stimulated to greater effort, and the 
 heavenly fire which had subdued his heart to peni- 
 tence and high resolve had touched his lips like- 
 wise with overpowering eloquence. His brothers, 
 his uncle, and more than twenty others besides, 
 were induced by his eloquence to join him in his 
 purpose to forsake the world. It is said that 
 "Mothers hid their sons, wives their husbands, 
 maidens their lovers, and companions their friends, 
 lest they should be drawn away by him." 
 
 Leading such a company of men, most of them 
 from influential families, Bernard and his com- 
 panions would have found a welcome at almost 
 any monastery in the land. He might have gone 
 to the greatest of Burgundian abbeys, the rich and 
 
 74 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 famous abbey of Clugni, where life was easy and 
 the religious rule then far from strict. But he chose 
 to go to Citeaux, the smallest, poorest and strictest 
 of them all, at that time presided over by an Eng- 
 lishman, Stephen Harding, whose sanctity all men 
 respected, but whose austere rule and discipline 
 most shrank from, so that his monastery, recently 
 founded, was very small and in a languishing con- 
 dition. The strict discipline and poverty, which 
 had repelled others, was an attraction to Bernard 
 and his companions, whom he had inspired with 
 his own enthusiasm and devotion. He rejoiced 
 to endure the hardest things for the love of Christ. 
 The greatest self -mortification delighted him. He 
 endeavored by means of it completely to subdue 
 all bodily appetities and passions, so that, delivered 
 from their clamor or control, he might easily dwell 
 in an atmosphere of religious meditation and spirit- 
 ual rapture. He took food, not to nourish life or 
 derive from it strength, but to postpone death and 
 keep himself from fainting. It was usually only 
 a bit of bread moistened with warm water with 
 no delicacy to please the palate. He regarded sleep 
 as almost an utter loss of time, during which one 
 was but as a dead man. As the delicacy and weak- 
 ness of his body forbade his undertaking heavy 
 tasks and hard labor, he compensated for that by 
 assuming the most menial offices, like that of wash- 
 ing dishes and greasing the shoes of the brethren. ' 
 The coming of Bernard and his company to 
 Citeaux resulted in such an increase of its prosperity 
 and numbers, that it could not accommodate the 
 
 75 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 crowd that flocked to it. It was obliged to do what 
 a beehive does with its swarming inhabitants — 
 send out colonies to form other hives. In less than 
 three years it sent out three colonies; Bernard 
 was chosen the leader of the third. A band 
 of twelve, representing the twelve apostles, with 
 their young abbot, then twenty -four years old, rep- 
 resenting Christ, bearing a cross and leading in 
 a solemn chant, they marched forth to establish 
 for themselves another home in the valley of Clair- 
 vaux, one hundred miles distant. It was at the 
 time a wild and desolate place which formerly had 
 borne the name of "The Valley of Wormwood." 
 The name was typical of the experiences they en- 
 countered. They suffered the bitterness of hunger, 
 of cold, of extreme privation, ere they became es- 
 tablished. More than once they became discour- 
 aged, and would have given up their enterprise 
 but for the unfaltering faith and indomitable per- 
 severance of Bernard. He was their example and 
 their inspiration. 
 
 Salt at one time failing them, he sent one of the 
 brethren to a neighboring village for a fresh supply, 
 but without money to pay for it. The monk demur- 
 ring, in the belief that if he went empty handed 
 he would return in like manner, Bernard said: 
 "Be not afraid; He who has the treasure will be 
 with thee and will supply the things for which I 
 send." When the monk returned with more than 
 he had gone for, the abbot said to him: "I tell thee, 
 my son, that nothing is so necessary to a Christian 
 man as faith. Have faith, and it will be well with 
 
 76 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 thee all the days of thy life." At another time 
 when they were brought almost to the verge of 
 despair on account of their destitution and began 
 to talk of returning to Citeaux, "where at least 
 the means of maintaining life could be commanded, 
 Bernard kneeled and prayed till he felt that a voice 
 from heaven had answered him." To their ques- 
 tion, what he had prayed for, he simply answered: 
 "Remain as you are, and you will know"; and 
 shortly relief came to them from three different 
 sources. After a period of hard struggle, filled with 
 such incidents, whose effect was to inspire them 
 with more complete confidence and reverence for 
 their leader as one peculiarly favored of heaven, 
 they overcame all obstacles and achieved a marvel- 
 ous success. 
 
 That wild and desolate valley became through 
 their labors a paradise of beauty, fertility and 
 plenty, well deserving its name of Clairvaux, or 
 "bright valley." Formed by two lines of con- 
 verging hills opening toward the east and coming 
 together at the west, where the monastery stood, 
 the valley was bright with sunshine in the morning 
 and with the glory of the sunset reflected from its 
 hills long after the monastery lay in the shadows 
 that fell upon it in the late afternoon. It was bright 
 in spring with blossoming orchards and smiling 
 gardens; and in autumn with the golden fruit and 
 the ripening harvest that the industry of the brother- 
 hood had created out of the wilderness of forest 
 and marsh land which they found there at their 
 coming. In time, the original twelve multiplied 
 
 77 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 by accessions as the parent institute of Citeaux 
 had done, so that it was obliged in turn to send 
 out colonies. A hundred and sixty of these went 
 from it in Bernard's own lifetime, one of which 
 founded the celebrated "Fountains' Abbey," in 
 England, whose beautiful ruins as seen today form 
 one of the notable objects of interest to American 
 travelers in the mother country. But wherever they 
 went and however beautiful the new homes they 
 established, these colonists reluctantly left the valley 
 of Clairvaux and the monastery where the presence 
 and rule of Bernard were a constant benediction, 
 and they incessantly longed to return thither. In 
 time it was greatly enlarged to accommodate those 
 who entreated to stay, so that it contained within 
 it at the time of his death seven hundred monks. 
 Here at Clairvaux, Bernard spent the most of his 
 life, nearly forty years, with those occasional ab- 
 sences which the service of the Church or of the 
 State required. 
 
 The Monastic System 
 
 It is proper that, at this point, we should dwell 
 awhile upon that remarkable institution of monas- 
 ticism, with which Bernard stands associated. 
 We should make a great mistake, if, misled by our 
 prejudices and Protestant training, we should pass 
 a sweeping condemnation upon it as though based 
 solely upon religious infatuation, and fraught only 
 with mischief to mankind. Dr. Storrs says truly, 
 that "No institution exists for centuries and con- 
 
 78 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 tinues to attract the reverent regard of many of 
 the best and most cultured of the time, which has 
 not a foundation in wide and wholesome human 
 tendencies or which does not minister, more or 
 less successfully, to recognized moral needs of man- 
 kind." This is true, we think, of that monastic 
 life so passionately embraced by Bernard, and which 
 as exemplified in him must be confessed to have 
 had an attractive charm, and produced a whole- 
 some effect. Its essential idea and purpose was 
 a life of retirement and seclusion from the world 
 for the sake of religious meditation, self-collection 
 and the formation and recovery of those ideals of 
 character and conduct that are most worthy and 
 fit to regulate the soul. So defined, it may be said 
 that the germs of monasticism are clearly discernible 
 in the Bible. We find them in the lives of the 
 ancient prophets, Moses and Elijah, in John the 
 Baptist, even in Christ and his Apostles. 
 
 It was under the impulse of the monastic spirit, 
 so to speak, that they occasionally withdrew from 
 the noise and bustle and excitement of this crowded, 
 bewildering worldly life, which we all know so well, 
 and of which we often become weary. The soli- 
 tude of the desert, of mountain, or of sea, was under 
 such circumstances as grateful and as restful to 
 them as is the stillness of night under the quiet 
 stars to one oppressed with "the cares that infest 
 the day"; or as is the repose of sleep, when ex- 
 hausted with the day's toil. In this view of the 
 matter we may affirm that monasticism is a prod- 
 uct of man's spiritual wants and necessities, that 
 
 79 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 it sprang up to satisfy cravings and impulses of 
 which all people of any degree of spirituality are 
 at times conscious. When the pressure of life be- 
 comes heavy and burdensome, and one feels his 
 weakness and the smallness of his own unaided re- 
 sources; when one is confronted by great and per- 
 plexing problems, for the solution of which he has 
 no light, then it is natural for him to look for relief 
 and light in retirement from the world and con- 
 verse with God. The words of Christ to his dis- 
 ciples: "Come ye apart into a desert place and 
 rest awhile" seem suited to his need, and the saying 
 of the prophet: "My people shall dwell in a peace- 
 able habitation and in sure dwellings and in quiet 
 resting places," equivalent to a divine direction, 
 obeying which he may, and thus only may, perhaps, 
 attain that righteousness "whose work," according 
 to his prophet, "shall be peace and whose effect, 
 quietness and assurance forever." Thus the 
 troubled and harrassed soul is prompted to seek and 
 often finds what the poet extols as a "gift sub- 
 lime" 
 
 ". . . that blessed mood, 
 In which the burden of the mystery, 
 In which the heavy and the weary weight 
 Of all this unintelligible world 
 Is lightened." 
 
 The needs of nature and of religion demand oc- 
 casional indulgence of this craving for retirement 
 and seclusion from the world. 
 
 It is a necessity for all deeper and most fruitful 
 souls. "Man must retire at intervals within him- 
 
 80 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 self in reflection and silence, to do the best things," 
 says one of the greatest of our American preachers. 
 The examples of Christ and of the Apostle Paul 
 intimate that such seclusion is especially needful 
 both as a preparation for successful work in the 
 ministry and as a means of spiritual invigoration 
 amid its exhausting labors. All the great preachers 
 of the past have by means of it replenished their 
 stores of thought and been girded with strength 
 for the deliverance of their messages. Chrysostom, 
 Augustine, Savonarola, Baxter, Howe and Edwards 
 thus prepared their pinions for higher flight. And 
 "in chambers of scholars, "says Dr. Storrs, "in 
 how many schools of sacred learning, where out- 
 ward things for the time at least have been ex- 
 cluded, and no echo has been heard of the furious 
 and mercenary rush of society, have men come to 
 the loftiest efforts and successes of intellectual and 
 spiritual life.^^ There philanthropies and missions 
 have been born; there sublime intuitions of truth 
 have given new import to the Scriptures; and there 
 immortality has become to the soul asserting kin- 
 ship with God, a proximate presence." 
 
 The religious system of monasticism was con- 
 trived so as to promote by its regulations and dis- 
 cipline the spiritual life of those submissive to it. 
 Life among them was occupied with worship, study, 
 and work, and for the pursuit of these objects they 
 solemnly vowed to observe in practice the virtues of 
 obedience, chastity and poverty or self-denial. The 
 Cistercian monasteries, of which Clair vaux was 
 one, represented, as we have intimated, a reform 
 
 6 81 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 in the ancient Benedictine discipline, which, as in 
 the case of the famous abbey of Clugni, had become 
 lax and corrupt through their acquisition of riches 
 and spiritual declension. The monastery of Citeaux, 
 which Bernard had originally joined and to which 
 his coming had given great prosperity, compelling 
 it to colonize, was the mother of this new order, 
 and Clairveaux was her third daughter. 
 
 At Clairveaux, therefore, monasticism was pre- 
 sented in its best form. Let us try to imagine, if 
 possible, the sort of life they lived there during the 
 days of Bernard. The daily services of religion 
 were seven in number, in accordance with the ex- 
 ample of the psalmist, Ps. 119; 164, "Seven times 
 a day do I praise thee." These were known as 
 "The Canonical Hours," and were as follows: 
 
 1. Nocturnes, two o'clock in the morning, when 
 it was believed that Christ rose from the dead; 
 
 2. Prime, or Matins, six o'clock in the morning, 
 when it was believed Christ's resurrection was an- 
 nounced to the women; 3. Tierce, nine o'clock, when 
 Christ was condemned and scourged by Pilate; 
 4. Sext, twelve (noon), when Christ was crucified 
 and darkness was over all the earth; 5. Nones, 
 three o'clock in the afternoon, the hour of public 
 prayer in the temple, and when Christ gave up the 
 ghost; 6. Vespers, six o'clock, the hour of evening 
 sacrifice in the temple, and when Christ was taken 
 down from the cross; 7. Compline, or "Even- 
 Song," solemnly sung about seven o'clock, when 
 Christ's agony began in the garden. 
 
 Thomas Fuller after giving these divisions, or 
 
 82 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 "hours," of their religious day, adds the following 
 comments. In regard to the first : "It was no fault, 
 for the greater haste, to come without shoes, or 
 with unwashen hands (provided sprinkled with 
 holy water) to this night's service. And I find no 
 expression to the contrary but that they might go 
 to bed again; but a flat prohibition after matins, 
 when to return to bed was accounted a petty apos- 
 tasy." 
 
 In regard to the last, called also the "Comple- 
 tory," it completed the duties of the day. This 
 service was concluded with that versicle of the 
 psalmist: "Set a watch, O Lord, before my mouth 
 and keep the door of my lips, " Ps. 141 ; 3. With this 
 was connected the injunction strictly observed: "Let 
 none speak a word after * completory , ' but hasten 
 to their beds." The rule was, in regard to these 
 "hours": "Let all at the signal given (the tolling 
 of a bell in England, hence called the "Ringing 
 Island") leave off their work, and repair presently 
 to prayers." "This canon was so strict," says 
 Fuller, that "writers having begun to frame and 
 flourish a text letter were not to finish it, but break 
 off in the middle thereof." 
 
 Of another rule, that "those who are absent in 
 public employment, be reputed present in prayers": 
 "There was a particular commemoration made of 
 them, and they by name were recommended to 
 divine protection." Those also were to observe the 
 same hours. "Be it by sea or land, on ship, in house 
 or field, they were to fall down on their knees, and 
 though at distance, and very briefly, yet in some 
 
 83 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 sort to keep time and tune with the convent in 
 their devotions." (See Fuller's ''Church History of 
 Britain," Book 6, Sec. 2.) 
 
 From the standard work of Dr. R. S. Storrs, 
 "Bernard of Clairvaux," we take the following brief 
 summary of the life pursued at Clairvaux in Ber- 
 nard's day: "The rule of Benedict was strictly 
 observed in it during the lifetime of Bernard, and 
 as long as his influence remained dominant there. 
 According to this, the abbot, though elected by 
 the monks, afterwards represented among them 
 the Divine Master, and to him was to be rendered 
 respect, veneration, and immediate obedience. 
 Among things insisted on, these were prominent: 
 no sensuality, no idle or jesting words, humility, 
 patience under injuries, contentment with meanest 
 goods or employments, constancy in religious serv- 
 ice, regularity in labor. For offences, chastise- 
 ment; for the incorrigible, expulsion. Of course, 
 no personal property was permitted. Each of the 
 monks served in his turn in the kitchen, or at the 
 table. Meals were to be eaten, but accompanied 
 with the reading of Scripture. ('This,' says 
 Fuller, 'was St Austin's rule. Ne solae fauces 
 sumant cihum, sed et aures percipiant Dei verhum.^) 
 A spiritual lecture was to be given each night 
 before 'compline'; after 'compline' silence resigned. 
 In summer, work was required from 'prime' till 
 ten o'clock; from ten to twelve, readings, reflection, 
 and perhaps rest; after 'nones,' labor again till 
 even-song. In the winter, the hours differed some- 
 what, and the outdoor work was limited or sus- 
 
 84 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 pended; but the succession of work, reading, and 
 prayer continued." (Lee. IV.) 
 
 It must be confessed that the system and hfe 
 thus described was adapted, one would think, to 
 promote a vital piety and good conduct in those 
 who consecrated themselves to it. And they did 
 this among the Cistercians in the time of Bernard 
 and for generations after. The statement of the 
 writer in "The Catholic Encyclopedia" concerning 
 them is undeniable: "Their abbeys during their 
 golden age (1134-1342) were so many sanctuaries 
 of the most fervent prayer, of the severest discipline 
 as well as of untiring and constant labor." 
 
 The piety thus developed and nurtured in their 
 inmates was not their only fruit. They yielded 
 other benefits to mankind of inestimable value, of 
 which none can question the reality and importance, 
 though they may deny and scout at their religious 
 and social influence. As teachers of what, for 
 those times, was scientific agriculture; as drainers of 
 fens and swamps; as clearers of forests; as makers 
 of roads; as tillers of reclaimed soil; as architects 
 of durable and even stately buildings; as exhibiting 
 a type of orderly government in a rude and chaotic 
 age; as mitigating the ferocity and cruelties of war 
 and the savage spirit it engenders; as showing the 
 superiority to warlike pursuits of peaceful employ- 
 xnents, and the refining influence of literature, art 
 and Christian charity; as students and transcribers 
 of both sacred and classical literature in their Scrip- 
 toria; as the collectors of precious libraries connected 
 with their monasteries; as the teachers and founders 
 
 85 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of schools, they have won the everlasting grati- 
 tude of mankind. 
 
 Their manifest good work attracted to them men 
 of the highest class and noblest character. "Princes 
 and kings," says Dr. Storrs, "were gladly num- 
 bered among the lay brothers. Some of them fully 
 entered the convents, and men of the highest rank 
 and repute were found serving faithfully in kitchen, 
 or mill, cutting faggots, gathering crops, or de- 
 lighting to drive the pigs to the field." 
 
 What then was the error of monasticism.^^ 
 
 The error of monasiicism was in supposing that an 
 occasional want of the soul justified a permanent sepa- 
 ration and seclusion of the best and most devout people 
 from the world and its society for the sake of religion. 
 They thus converted what should be an occasional 
 spiritual discipline and refreshment into a constant 
 self-indulgence, which so used became at length 
 unhealthful and the source of serious ills. 
 
 Let us not, in reprobating the mischief that arose 
 and brought this institution into widespread dis- 
 repute, be blind to the thing perverted. 
 
 Occasional retirement from the world for prayer, 
 reflection and quiet, undisturbed study of God's 
 truth, that one may enjoy a "Sabbath of the Soul," 
 and have a clear vision of this truth, is essential to 
 our highest spiritual welfare. It is indispensable 
 to the successful minister. In the still "retreat" 
 and solitude thus obtained one gains admission to 
 the "audience chamber of God," and acquires the 
 moral elevation, the deep convictions and conse- 
 quent moral earnestness that make him eloquent 
 
 86 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 and impressive as a preacher. "The eloquent 
 man," says Emerson, "is not merely a beautiful 
 speaker, but one who is inwardly drunk with a cer- 
 tain belief. This terrible earnestness makes good 
 the ancient superstition of the hunter that the bul- 
 let will hit its mark which is first dipped in the 
 marksman's blood." 
 
 The eloquence for which Bernard became famous 
 was the eloquence of a message that had first been 
 dipped in his own blood. It was a matter of heart 
 experience, and not merely a doctrine of his creed; 
 and it was perhaps largely due to his monastic 
 life and its large opportunity for quiet meditation 
 and uplifting of his heart in prayer to God in that 
 age of storm and distraction, that he attained at 
 length this experience. He seems to have experi- 
 enced all the benefits, and to have been preserved 
 from all the dangers connected with such a fife. 
 "From these dangers, even the subtlest," says Dr. 
 Storrs, "Bernard was preserved not only by the 
 grace of God in his sincere and ardent soul, but by 
 his assiduous study of the Scriptures, and by the 
 multitudinous activities, within the convent and 
 beyond it, which constantly engaged him. When 
 at home he preached every day, besides taking his 
 faithful part in the customary labors. He wrote 
 treatises, rich in the products of careful reflection, 
 and with passages of remarkable beauty and power 
 as well as of high spiritual thought. His letter 
 writing was constant, of vast extent and variety, 
 often concerning the gravest matters. His letters 
 were addressed to men of all classes and conditions 
 
 87 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and on all sorts of subjects, from the highest themes 
 of truth, duty, and Christian experience, to the 
 humblest particulars of familiar affairs." 
 
 He was the counselor and influential advisor of 
 kings and popes. "His utmost energy was called 
 for and was exerted in the successive crises which 
 confronted him in the Church and in the State, 
 and nothing seems to have occurred in France or 
 in other related countries during the last thirty 
 years of his life, concerning directly or indirectly 
 the honor and interest of religion, which was not 
 brought to his personal notice, on which his govern- 
 ing, practical genius was not intensely busy. " Thus, 
 though living apart from the world, he was suffi- 
 ciently concerned with its great interests to keep 
 his heart in healthy sympathy with mankind. 
 
 The chief interest, however, which he has for us 
 is not that of a representative of the monastic sys- 
 tem, or that of an ecclesiastical statesman, but that 
 of a great preacher, whose eminence was due, to 
 some extent perhaps, to his peculiar religious life 
 and environment, but due far more to the personal 
 characteristics which distinguished him. What 
 these characteristics were, and wherein his power 
 as a preacher chiefly lay we will now attempt to 
 show. 
 
 As to his personal appearance and physical quali- 
 fications: These were such that "he persuaded the 
 eye before the ear heard him." He was of about 
 the middle height, but the veneration and respect 
 he inspired made him seem taller. His figure was 
 slight and his movements were graceful. His 
 
 88 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 features, possessing a refined and saintly beauty, 
 an inheritance from his mother, were yet marked 
 with lines of strength that made his face command- 
 ing. It was lighted up with expressive eyes which 
 ordinarily looked only gentleness, tenderness and 
 benevolence, but "which glowed at times as if with 
 di vines t fires." Delicate health and physical in- 
 firmity made him seem, at first, like one near to 
 death, and gave great solemnity to his words. There 
 was, however, no impression of feebleness in his 
 speaking. His ardent spirit so energized his fragile 
 frame and physical powers that he displayed great 
 vivacity and astonishing vigor as he advanced in 
 his discourse. 
 
 He hod a remarkable voice, "which quivered like 
 a harp string or rang like a trumpet in its chang- 
 ing emotion." (Storrs.) There was a power of 
 entrancement in its clear, far-reaching tone which 
 repeatedly enthralled great multitudes, and such 
 a manifestation of spirit as made the impression that 
 he was a heaven-sent messenger. 
 
 His mental qualities were still more extraordinary; 
 among them, a rich and fertile imagination. "One 
 would hardly know," says Dr. Storrs, "where to 
 find a brighter example of the power which is im- 
 parted to the preacher by this noble, if sometimes 
 dangerous, faculty. Whatever his subject, however 
 familiar, or apparently trivial, there is always a 
 transfiguring light thrown upon it by his imagination, 
 which is like the light upon Italian hills. His sug- 
 gestive faculty was quick, active and fruitful of 
 thought. Sometimes he indulged it too much, so 
 
 89 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 much that a hearer would find it hard to discover 
 the relation between his text and the sermon which 
 followed; for *the text is often hardly more than the 
 nest, from which like the eagle he lifts himself on 
 eager wing to touch, if he may, the stars.'" 
 
 He possessed an extraordinary power of mental 
 abstraction. When meditating upon his sermons 
 in his convent cell, or in the rustic arbor with an 
 enchanting view of the lovely valley, to which he 
 often retired, he became lost in thought and in- 
 sensible to everything without. Though his love 
 of nature amounted to a passion and he was alive 
 to her every suggestion and influence, and though 
 he found in her an interpreter of revelation, so that 
 he says, "whatever he had learned of the Scrip- 
 tures and of their spiritual meaning had chiefly 
 come to him while he was meditating and praying 
 in the woods and fields," yet when occasion re- 
 quired he could exclude everything from his mind 
 and become engrossed in whatever subject claimed 
 his attention. This is an invaluable power. To 
 it Isaac Newton attributed whatever preeminence 
 over other men he had won in science. The preacher 
 needs it, to be able to elaborate his thought amid 
 the distractions of the world. 
 
 But the most important qualifications of Bernard, 
 as of every great preacher, were moral and spiritual. 
 These had their roots in and were nourished by his 
 religious faith. This faith was that in which he 
 was instructed in his youth, when the teaching of 
 the Catholic Church was, as compared with that of 
 later times, much closer to original primitive Chris- 
 
 90 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 tianity and more in harmony with the sacred 
 Scriptures. Luther extols him, as "the most God- 
 fearing and pious of monks"; and Calvin, as ** a pious 
 and holy writer, above his time, pungent and dis- 
 criminating in rebuke of its errors." "He accepted, 
 without reserve, the system of Christianity as it 
 had come to him from the past, as it seemed to 
 him set forth in the Scriptures, as it was associated 
 with the deepest and subtlest longings and attain- 
 ments of his spiritual nature. He believed it be- 
 cause he felt it. He could truly say of it: *A11 my 
 springs are in Thee.' The sphere of truth had to 
 him an atmosphere about it full of tints and sunny 
 splendors, in contemplating which his soul delighted, 
 and by which the truth seemed freshly verified. He 
 was a contemplative yet a most practical mystic." 
 (Storrs.) 
 
 The criterion of its truth, or reality, was its power 
 and tendency to bring man's spirit nearer to God. 
 That evidence of its divine authority Bernard him- 
 self had received to a remarkable degree. Neander 
 and other close students of his life and character 
 dwell much and often upon his deep and large re- 
 ligious experience. He was not content with a 
 traditional faith; he was not satisfied with anything 
 less than a personal verification of it obtained 
 through his own moral perceptions and spiritual 
 intuitions as these came to him in prayer, earnest 
 study and deep meditation upon the Scripture 
 teachings. 
 
 Having thus verified it, he was, in his preaching, 
 a witness to its truth. He spoke as one who had 
 
 91 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 himself received and heard it from God. "No 
 doubt fettered his powers. Celestial impulses were 
 felt to vibrate on his uplifting words." The con- 
 viction and certainty which belong to such a preacher, 
 resounding in his tones and looking forth from his 
 eyes, gave to his utterances a thrilling effect. 
 
 This ability to bear credible witness to the truth 
 is the supreme qualification of the preacher. It 
 stood first in the qualifications of the apostles. 
 It is first always. It is the source of other quali- 
 fications. Besides certainty and conviction, it gives 
 to the preacher earnestness, spirituality, a tender 
 Christlike love of souls, intrepid boldness, the au- 
 thority which invests a messenger from God. These 
 qualities were characteristic of Bernard. Histo- 
 rians and contemporaries say of him, that "the 
 doctrine which he taught came to men illumined, 
 and spiritually emphasized by their clear perception 
 of his profound experience of it"; that "he spoke 
 as one who had communion with heaven"; that 
 "he seemed to reverence every man and to fear 
 no man"; that his influence was so immense that 
 "he was at once the leading and governing head 
 of Christendom, more the pope than was the pontiff 
 himself," and that "his persuasive power was so 
 great that he led men captive and constrained them 
 almost against their wills to do his bidding"; that 
 "the Germans who could not understand a word 
 he said, were carried away by his preaching equally 
 with his own more excitable countrymen." 
 
 The following remarkable example of the sub- 
 duing power of his eloquence is reported by histo- 
 
 92 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 rians. It was connected with a famous dispute as 
 to the right of succession to the papacy, which oc- 
 curred in Bernard's time. Of the two claimants, 
 Anacletus 2d and Innocent 2d, Innocent at last 
 prevailed, chiefly through the influence of Bernard. 
 Opposed to him was the powerful Count of Aqui- 
 taine, who in his fierce opposition deposed those 
 bishops in his dominions who favored Innocent, and 
 filled their vacant places with creatures of his own 
 choosing. "He was a man of vast stature and of 
 gigantic strength with a peculiarly violent, sensual 
 and intractable temper." He feared not God nor 
 regarded man. 
 
 When Innocent had become established in the 
 papal chair, Bernard in company with the papal 
 legate waited upon this fierce prince to induce him 
 to give in his allegiance to the generally recognized 
 pope, and to reinstate the deposed bishops. The 
 pope he was willing to recognize, but the bishops 
 he refused to restore. "They had offended him 
 past forgivness and he had sworn never to be rec- 
 onciled to them. Argument was vain; as well argue 
 with a wild beast." Bernard broke off the useless 
 discussion, and proceeded with his companions to 
 the church to celebrate mass. The count remained 
 at the door, an unrepentant rebel to the Church. 
 When the host had been consecrated, Bernard with 
 lifted arms and flashing face advanced with it to- 
 ward him and said: "We have besought you and 
 you have spurned us. These servants of God have 
 entreated you and you have despised them. Be- 
 hold, here comes to you the Virgin's Son, the Head 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and Lord of the Church which you persecute. Your 
 judge is here, *at whose name every knee shall 
 bow, of things in heaven and things on earth, and 
 things under the earth.' Your Judge is here, into 
 whose hands your soul is to pass. Will you spurn 
 Him also? Will you despise Him as you have de- 
 spised His Servants.^" 
 
 "An awful silence," we are told, "fell on the 
 assembly and a dread expectation. The furious and 
 implacable count, pierced in spirit, fell to the ground, 
 and lay there speechless. Lifted by his knights, 
 he could not stand, and fell again foaming at the 
 mouth. Bernard bade him rise and listen to the 
 judgment of God. He presented the Bishop of 
 Poictiers, whom he had violently expelled from his 
 see, and commanded the count to give him, then 
 and there, the kiss of peace, and restore Jiim to his 
 seat. He meekly obeyed and with a kiss led the 
 bishop to his place. He who had an army at his 
 back, and who himself could, by reason of his brute 
 strength, have smitten Bernard into instant death 
 with one blow of fist or mace, yielded to the onset 
 of his overwhelming will. Nor only for the time; 
 he gave himself, from that time on, to repentance 
 for sin and the service of religion." 
 
 This incident shows a man of masterful force, 
 resolute spirit, and indomitable will, as well as of 
 intrepid courage. One might think it indicated 
 also a haughty, presumptuous spirit; but that would 
 be a mistake. Though at the impulse of duty he 
 did not hesitate, as God's minister, to rebuke or 
 expostulate with kings and popes and great nobes. 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 he was, and, notwithstanding the honors and ap- 
 plause he received, he continued to be, one of the 
 most humble and self -depreciating of men. "The 
 humility of his heart," we are told, "surpassed the 
 majesty of his fame, so that when receiving the 
 profuse honors and adulation of princes or of peoples, 
 he did not seem to himself to be Bernard, but some 
 one else substituted for him; he only recognizing 
 himself in his proper personality when he resumed 
 familiar talk with the humbler of his brethren." 
 
 Perhaps it may be truly said, that when in his 
 liigh moods of spiritual exaltation and of eloquence, 
 he was another person. Those moods were due to 
 the descent of the Spirit of God upon him, or to his 
 becoming suddenly possessed by truths and ideas 
 which under the operation of the spirit lifted him 
 above his usual self. There are instances in the 
 Bible where the spirit of God came upon men with 
 transporting power. (Examples: Samson, Elijah, 
 Elisha, Isaiah, etc.) Most of us can remember 
 seasons in our experience, when we have been Hfted 
 to such exaltation of mind and high achievements 
 by inspiring ideas and spiritual influences, that, 
 as we look back upon them from the lower plain 
 to which alas! we soon descended and on which 
 we usually move, it seems as if it was some one else 
 that felt and spoke and did thus. Our study of the 
 life of Bernard has made the impression upon us that 
 his amazing eloquence is to be explained in this way. 
 The "Spirit of God came upon him" at those times, 
 and with this unction from on High his speech pos- 
 sessed an irresistible and marvelous power. 
 
 95 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 We give two more instances, as Dr. R. S. Storrs 
 has described them in his fascinating volume: "He 
 preached once in Paris, in the schools of philosophy, 
 where men were too busy with engrossing disputa- 
 tions to give any practical heed to his words, and the 
 discourse apparently produced no effect. He went 
 home to pray, with sobs and groans, with deep 
 searchings of heart and a passion of tears. He 
 was in anguish of spirit, lest God had forsaken him. 
 The next day he preached again, with the unction 
 and energy derived from this divine communion, 
 and large numbers were converted and gave them- 
 selves to God at the hand of his servant." 
 
 The other instance is his discourse at Spires be- 
 fore the Emperor Conrad, whom he sought to enlist 
 in the second crusade, which Bernard, unhappily 
 for his fame, was chiefly instrumental in causing: 
 "At Frankfort, Bernard had had audience with the 
 emperor, but had failed to impress him w^th the 
 duty or the privilege of taking part in the crusade. 
 Subsequently, at Spires, he saw him again, but 
 without effect. The only answer he obtained from 
 him was, that he would consider the matter, con- 
 sult his advisers, and give his reply on the following 
 day. On that day, Bernard officiated at mass, the 
 Emperor being present. Suddenly, without invi- 
 tation, moved as he felt by the divine spirit, he 
 began to preach. At the end of the discourse, turn- 
 ing to Conrad in the crowded cathedral, and feeling 
 himself as much alone with him as if the earth had 
 swung out of sight and only they two remained to 
 remember it, he addressed him, not as an emperor, 
 
 96 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 but as a man. His whole soul flung itself forth from 
 his impassioned lips, and he was for the time as 
 one inspired. He pictured the coming tribunal of 
 judgment with the man then before him standing 
 there in the presence of the Christ who says to 
 him, *0 man, what ought I to have done for thee, 
 which I have not done?' He set forth the height 
 and splendor of royalty, the riches of the emperor, the 
 wise counsels he could command, his virile strength 
 of mind and body, for all which things he must 
 give account. The whole scene of the coming 
 judgment seemed palpably present to the mind of 
 the preacher, while it flamed as a vision through 
 his prophetic admonitory words. We may con- 
 ceive that the cathedral itself appeared to darken 
 in the shadows and to tremble with the echoes of 
 ethereal thunders, as 'He who cometh with clouds' 
 was foreshown. At last the Emperor, bursting into 
 tears in the midst of the discourse, exclaimed: *I 
 acknowledge the gifts of the Divine favor; nor will 
 I prove ungrateful for them. He assisting me I 
 am ready to serve Him, seeing that on His part I 
 am so admonished.' 'The Emperor took the holy 
 banner from the hand of Bernard, a multitude of 
 nobles followed eagerly his example and the second 
 crusade was launched upon its turbulent way." 
 
 Besides this remarkable unction, he possessed 
 the equally important qualification of a saintly char- 
 acter. "Remember to give to your words the voice 
 of a noble virtue," he once said to a young abbot, 
 whom he was instructing in the art of preaching. 
 He himself was an eminent example of his own 
 
 7 97 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 teaching. His eloquence well exemplified Emer- 
 son's definition of being "the best speech of the 
 best soul." His evident piety and the striking 
 fruits of it in his life caused him to be regarded as 
 a genuine saint by all classes. He was canonized 
 only twenty years after his death. Men coveted 
 his blessing as certain to bring celestial good; they 
 imputed to him heavenly wisdom; he spoke with 
 the authority of one enjoying the special favor and 
 the direction of heavenly powers. "His very char- 
 acter seemed an evangel." 
 
 One more qualification and our characterization 
 of him is finished. He was a ''gospeV' preacher 
 in the truest sense of the word. The truth with 
 which he charged his sermons and the motives to 
 which he appealed were almost wholly evangelical. 
 Man's lost condition through sin and God's redeem- 
 ing love and grace as expressed in the person and 
 work of Christ viewed as man, savior, priest, and 
 king, these doctrines were the warp and woof of 
 his sermons. These doctrines form a great maga- 
 zine of spiritual power. The motives that are 
 touched by them are the strongest and most potent 
 known to man. Appealed to, or stimulated and 
 strengthened by them, men rise to greater things 
 than otherwise would be reached by them. In 
 Bernard's case, these doctrines were both the source 
 of an irresistible eloquence and the spring of a 
 seraphic piety. 
 
 How lofty and irresistible, at times, was his elo- 
 quence, the examples given sufficiently indicate; 
 how ardent his piety is shown by his hymns. Ex- 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 amples of these hymns may be found in most of 
 our hymnals. Originally put into Latin verse, 
 good English translations of them have been made. 
 The following are the first lines of four that are now 
 generally familiar: 
 
 "O sacred Head, once wounded.'* 
 "O Jesus, King most wonderful.'* 
 "Jesus, thou Joy of loving hearts!" 
 "Jesus, the very thought of Thee." 
 (In the Manval of Praise, Oberlin.) 
 
 Where in the whole field of hymnology can one 
 find expressed more ardent love for Christ, or more 
 complete trust and devotion than in these hymns .^^ 
 They match those of Charles Wesley. They are 
 the breathings of a soul ravished with the love of 
 him whom they extol. 
 
 The most of his sermons that have come down 
 to us, in the fragmentary reports of them made 
 by some of the brethren at Clairvaux, are char- 
 acterized by the same sweetness of spirit and warmth 
 of evangelical sentiment as these hymns. "They 
 are," to quote an admiring Catholic eulogist, "at 
 once so sweet and so ardent that it is as though his 
 mouth were a fountain of honey and his heart a 
 furnace of love." 
 
 Being such a man, with such extraordinary gifts 
 and qualifications for preaching, and achieving by 
 it such marvelous results, what shall we say of his 
 eloquence? Considering its triumphs and effects, 
 it seems to have realized, in the largest measure, 
 that witchery of speech, mysterious, inexplicable, 
 
 99 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 which is so wonderful in the highest eloquence. As 
 a poet of the highest genius is born, not made, so 
 with such a preacher. His eloquence is a gift of 
 God. No art or industry could fabricate it. 
 
 And yet Bernard's example is full of instruction 
 for all preachers and students preparing for the 
 ministry. It emphasizes in particular the follow- 
 ing things: 
 
 (1) The value to the preacher of occasional seasons 
 of seclusion from the world, for close study of God^s 
 wordy for meditation and the replenishment of his 
 spiritual force by prayer and communion with God. 
 Without this the mind is in danger of becoming 
 unspiritual, professional, destitute of any fresh, 
 clear vision, or inspiring thought. Religious seclu- 
 sion for the purposes named is as needful for the 
 health of the soul, as rest and sleep for the health 
 of the body. By means of it the exhausted foun- 
 tains of life are refilled, as the fountain of an inter- 
 mittent spring is replenished by a period of seeming 
 inactivity. *'The spirit needs meditation as the 
 day needs the night" is a maxim of experience. 
 Without the night we should never see the stars; 
 without meditation, we should lose sight of spiritual 
 verities that give an ineffable grandeur to our being. 
 It is the preacher's office to explore the depths of 
 those heavens in which these verities lie hidden, 
 and direct the attention of men to them. Without 
 meditation and prayer he cannot successfully do 
 either one or the other. 
 
 (2) The life of Bernard emphasizes also the im- 
 portance to the ministry of combining with such sea- 
 
 100 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 sons of seclusion from the world a constant living 
 contact with the world and an active interest in its 
 affairs. It was this living contact with the world 
 and active interest in its affairs that preserved 
 Bernard from the common evils associated with 
 monasticism. It is with men as with water. Water 
 is purified and clarified by being occasionally with- 
 drawn from the turbid stream in which it flows. 
 Pausing in its onward rush in the still placid pools 
 that occur here and there in its course, it precipi- 
 tates the sediment which has defiled its purity, 
 and it better reflects the heavens in its tranquil 
 surface. But entirely withdrawn from the stream 
 and separated long from it, so that it does not feel 
 its quickening pulse, the water of the pool becomes 
 stagnant, and the place is converted into a malarial 
 swamp. So it is, I say, with men. Therefore the 
 minister must, with his seasons of seclusion for 
 prayer and study and meditation, join such an 
 interest in the world and such an active part with 
 mankind as will preserve his heart from corrup- 
 tion. He can do this by diligently exercising his 
 pastoral function, by performing those ministries 
 to the sick, the poor, the tempted, and by discharg- 
 ing the duties to society and the state, incumbent 
 on him as a citizen, and which the ministry is so 
 well qualified to perform. 
 
 (3) The life of Bernard emphasizes the impor- 
 tance of a genuine experience by the minister of the 
 truth he preaches. "Instructed by the Mistress Ex- 
 perience," says Bernard, "I will sing of mercy and 
 judgment. " His profound religious experience made 
 
 101 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 him an impressive and convincing witness to the 
 great doctrines of the Bible. So is it with any 
 successful minister. The true prophet will not 
 be content, unless he has such a testimony to give. 
 Others may be satisfied with a tradition; he must 
 hear the voice of the spirit for himself and verify 
 or reject the doctrine which tradition affirms. 
 
 In what has been said of Bernard we have con- 
 fined ourselves to his remarkable personal quali- 
 ties, his saintly virtues, his eminent abilities and 
 admirable achievements. Scarcely a word has 
 been given to faults of character or conduct. On 
 this account we may be accused of excessive eulogy 
 to the discredit of the truthfulness of our study of 
 the man. No doubt he had faults of character 
 and conduct. He carried his abstinence and asceti- 
 cism to an absurd extreme, to the great injury of 
 his health and the perpetuation of a false standard 
 of conduct. His resolute encouragement of the 
 second crusade was most unwise and disastrous. 
 He was chiefly responsible for its mischief. It 
 was a chimerical enterprise, doomed from the start 
 to melancholy failure, and involving the sacrifice 
 of many precious, heroic lives after incredible hard- 
 ships and sufferings. But probably the worst 
 thing that can be alleged against him is his theo- 
 logical persecution of and intolerant treatment of 
 Abelard at the famous Synod of Sens, A. D. 1140. 
 
 Abelard was one of the most celebrated men of 
 his time; like Bernard he was of noble family, of 
 the province of Brittany. Possessing an eager in- 
 quiring mind and displaying extraordinary abilities 
 
 10^ 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 as a youth, he was provided by his father with larger 
 educational advantages than usual for those times. 
 Study was an enthusiasm with him, and he grati- 
 fied his passion by attendance upon the most famous 
 schools of the kingdom. At the age of twenty, 
 he went to Paris, and studied at its schools of philos- 
 ophy and letters. Handsome, brilliant in thought 
 and speech, accomplished and engaging in manners 
 and address, he attracted attention and admira- 
 tion wherever he went. While yet a very young 
 man he himself became a teacher, and opened schools 
 at Melun, at Corbeil, and on the height of Saint 
 Genevieve, to which many pupils were attracted, 
 upon whom he made such an impression of mental 
 power, sagacity and extensive knowledge that the 
 saying became current among them, that Abelard 
 "knew whatever was knowable." At the age of 
 thirty four he became the head of that great school 
 of Paris, which developed later into its famous Uni- 
 versity. 
 
 From studies in philosophy and science, his eager 
 mind turned its attention to theology, and he aspired 
 to become equally a master in that. His effort 
 as a theologian, says Dr. Storrs, was "to present 
 a rational philosophy of the Christian religion, and, 
 without denying its transcendent truths, to so com- 
 mend them to the intelligence of men as to win for 
 them just mental assent, and to reconcile with them 
 the more searching and inquisitive thought of the 
 time." The effort seems to us to have been com- 
 mendable and deserving of the approbation of the 
 ruling authorities of the Church instead of their 
 
 103 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 condemnation. It is not improbable that tbey 
 would have given their approval had Abelard ex- 
 hibited along with his effort a persuasive and con- 
 ciliatory spirit. But he was derisive and imperious 
 towards his critics, impatient of dissent, and of the 
 hesitation of cautious and timid minds, answering 
 their objections with scorn and a haughty disdain. 
 Men are not prone to give to new ideas and novel 
 statements a ready acceptance, if those who pro- 
 pose them exhibit an unamiable temper. These 
 novelties may be supported by good reasons, but 
 their reasonableness will not be perceived under the 
 circumstances. Those opposed will refuse to be 
 convinced, if the advocate uses the lash of caustic 
 speech to overcome their resistance. Instead of 
 converts he makes them determined adversaries. 
 Cousin calls Abelard "the father of modern ra- 
 tionalism." The effect of his teaching was to un- 
 settle the faith of his disciples in the traditional 
 teachings of the Church. "The bold young man," 
 says the historian Michelet, "simplified, explained, 
 humanized, everything. He suffered scarcely any- 
 thing of the hidden and the divine to remain in the 
 most commanding mysteries. It seemed as if the 
 Church till that time had been stammering, while 
 Abelard spoke out." But in the opinion of the 
 leaders of the Church it was fit that she should 
 stammer in speaking of the mysteries of her faith. 
 In her view they were incomprehensible, and she 
 looked upon his effort to explain them as irreverent 
 and profane. Bernard thought so, and placed him- 
 self decisively among Abelard's adversaries, after 
 
 104 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 a careful examination of his published writings, 
 deeming him "a rash adventurer on a dangerous 
 path, if not a concealed enemy of the truth." He 
 abhorred him both as a teacher of damnable error 
 subversive of the faith of the Church, and as a 
 wicked, immoral man, who had seduced for the 
 gratification of his lust the beautiful and accom- 
 plished Heloise, of whom his biographer says, "her 
 century put her at the head of all women," and 
 the annals of the convent of which she afterwards 
 became abbess, "as most illustrious in learning and 
 religion. " 
 
 "The men," says Dr. Storrs, "represented col- 
 liding tendencies. Two systems, two ages, came 
 into shattering conflict in their persons. It was 
 heart against head; a fervent sanctity against the 
 critical and rationalizing temper; an adoring faith 
 in mysterious truths, believed to have been an- 
 nounced by God, against the dissolving and destruc- 
 tive analysis which would force those truths into 
 subjection to the human understanding. It was 
 the whole series of the Church Fathers, fitly and 
 signally represented by Bernard, against recent 
 thinkers who questioned everything, who refused 
 to be bound by any authority." 
 
 It was many years, however, after their antag- 
 onism was felt and known, before these two men 
 met to join issue in open discussion before the 
 Council of Sens. Abelard, skilled in dialectics and 
 a practised debater, who had been victorous in many 
 wordy conflicts with opposers, was eager for it and 
 requested it as a privilege; Bernard went to it re- 
 
 105 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 luctantly and consented only when urged to it by 
 the earnest entreaty of friends and the authorita- 
 tive summons of the archbishop of Rheims, to call 
 this bold innovator to account for his heresies and 
 defend the faith of the Church from their mis- 
 chief. 
 
 The Council was an imposing assembly, at which 
 were present the king of France and many nobles 
 and prelates of high rank. A considerable part of 
 it consisted of the friends and followers of Abelard, 
 who expected that he would successfully defend 
 himself from the accusations with which he was 
 charged. Bernard, put forward as the champion of 
 Orthodoxy and the defender of the Church, entered 
 upon his task simply and naturally. ''He had col- 
 lected passages from the writings of Abelard, seven- 
 teen in number, which he judged heretical and con- 
 trary to the faith of the Church, and he called for 
 the reading of these, that Abelard might declare 
 whether he recognized them as his own and then 
 might either retract or defend them. A hush of 
 attention and expectancy pervaded the assembly. 
 But the clerk had hardly begun to read when Abe- 
 lard rose and interrupted him, to the astonishment 
 of all, by saying that he would not then discuss 
 the points in question, that he appealed to the 
 pope for judgment; then abruptly left the hall. 
 Bernard, amazed at his action, tried to stop him. 
 He earnestly assured Abelard that nothing of harm 
 was intended to his person, that he might answer 
 freely and in perfect security, that he would be 
 heard with patience, and would not be checked or 
 
 106 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 smitten by a premature sentence. In vain; he 
 would not be detained, and "Abelard went from 
 the council to the street on that June day a beaten 
 and broken man." Why he did so, what the cause 
 of his sudden panic and flight from this council 
 to which he had come so confident of vindication, 
 is one of the puzzles of ecclesiastical history. 
 
 After he had gone, Bernard insisted, notwith- 
 standing, that the trial proceed by the examina- 
 tion of the passages taken from his writings, and a 
 judgment upon them be given by the council. 
 Fourteen of them in regard to the Trinity and the 
 divine nature of Christ, his redemptive work, and 
 the nature of sin as rooted in the present intention 
 were condemned. At the request of the bishops, 
 the action of the council was reported by Bernard 
 to the pope, and, in turning over the case to him 
 for decision he energetically urged the prompt con- 
 demnation of the defendant; and Abelard, largely 
 through Bernard's influence, was condemned by 
 the pope with his writings, which were consigned 
 to the flames. He was furthermore enjoined to 
 keep silent thereafter, and sentenced to be im- 
 prisoned in a convent, the condemnation being de- 
 termined upon and the sentence proclaimed before 
 Abelard, who was on his way to Rome, reached the 
 holy city. Such treatment, of course, was unjust, 
 but it was according to the habit of those times, 
 and excused with the plea that Abelard's heresies 
 were very dangerous and fast spreading, and that 
 prompt action was imperative to arrest them. But 
 injustice and wrong are not excused for such reasons; 
 
 107 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 they remind us of the clamor to Pilate against 
 Jesus and his teaching as dangerous to the Jewish 
 hierarchy. 
 
 Abelard found a friend and protector in Peter 
 the Venerable, the abbot of the rich monastery 
 of Clugni, one of the noblest churchmen of his time, 
 as strictly orthodox as Bernard himself, sweet- 
 spirited and benignant, whose Christian character 
 is shown by a reported saying of his: **The rule 
 of Benedict is always subordinate to the law of 
 charity." With him at Clugni, Abelard spent the 
 remaining two years of his sad and eventful life, 
 the pathetic story of which he tells in his *' History 
 of Calamities." "It is one of the saddest books ever 
 written," says Dr. Storrs; and Remusat, Abelard's 
 biographer, says: "No better instruction can any- 
 where be given of the misery which may come with 
 the most beautiful things of the world, genius, learn- 
 ing, glory, love." 
 
 We are glad to say of him, that through the 
 mediation of the good Abbot of Clugni he became 
 reconciled before he died with Bernard, who even 
 became his friend and was so spoken of by him; 
 that he was pardoned his offenses by the pope, 
 and "permitted again to use and enjoy the sacred 
 oflSces from which for a time he had been debarred." 
 We are furthermore told that, in those last years, 
 "his manner was humble, he was diligently ob- 
 servant of the sacraments and of prayer, that he 
 was truly penitent for his past sins, and that the 
 good Abbot said in view of his good influence upon 
 them, that "a divine arrangement had sent this 
 
 108 
 
BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX 
 
 honored philosopher and servant of Christ, en- 
 riching the monastery with a gift more precious 
 than of gold and topaz." In view of all which, 
 we may acquiesce in the words of his biographer: 
 "We need not mourn too much for his sad life; 
 he lived in keen suffering and he died in humilia- 
 tion, but he had his glory, and he was beloved." 
 
 Bernard and Abelard were regarded as rivals in 
 their time, and the followers of Abelard accused 
 the former of jealousy because the eminence of their 
 master was eclipsing his fame. But a study of 
 Bernard's life and character does not allow us to 
 believe this. Anything like jealousy or envy was 
 foreign to his breast. He was lifted by his genuine 
 goodness and sanctity above such infirmities, even 
 if his great influence had not made him superior 
 to them. 
 
 The fact that Bernard was able by his influence 
 to defeat and crush Abelard was no evidence either 
 that Abelard's w^ork in life was a failure. There 
 was much that was good in his ideas and philo- 
 sophical opinions, and this good remains a permanent 
 blessing to mankind. He was the originator of 
 what is known as "the moral theory of the atone- 
 ment," that "it was needed and intended to en- 
 kindle in us such love toward God as should effec- 
 tually incline us to do His will, and make us ready 
 for suffering and service in His cause." Dr. Storrs 
 sums up correctly, we think, the truth in regard 
 to him: "As we think of him in his relations to the 
 Abbot of Clairvaux we may confidently believe that 
 while they never might have been able to see eye 
 
 109 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to eye in their contemplation of the problems of 
 
 theology, as presented in their time, they did attain | 
 
 a perfect harmony when passing beyond the mortal | 
 
 limitations. . . . And certainly we know that the j 
 special impulses represented by either, perhaps 
 
 represented extravagantly by either, have been com- : 
 
 bined ever since and will be to the end, in the his- i 
 
 toric development of the Church." I 
 
 110 
 
IV 
 RICHARD BAXTER 
 
IV 
 
 RICHARD BAXTER 
 1615-1691 
 
 Richard Baxter is the most interesting and 
 picturesque figure among the old EngHsh divines. 
 "If he had Hved in primitive times," says an eminent 
 EngHsh bishop, "he would have been one of the 
 Fathers of the Church." Born November 12, 1615, 
 of pious parents of the middle class, he received a 
 careful religious training. His first decisive religious 
 impressions were experienced in his fifteenth year. 
 To dispel remorse for a petty theft of fruit from a 
 neighbor's orchard, he took up and began to read an 
 old, torn volume which he found at home, "Bunny's 
 Resolution," by a Jesuit author. It excited in his 
 troubled soul the desire for a religious life, which 
 resulted in his conversion. His decision to enter 
 the ministry, formed in his nineteenth year, was due 
 to the serious impressions made by his mother's 
 death and his narrow escape from death which 
 occurred about the same time. He was journeying 
 on horseback in winter. At a certain place, where 
 the frozen road ran between high, steep banks, he 
 met a heavily loaded wagon. To avoid it, he urged 
 his horse up the steep side of the road. His saddle- 
 girth broke and he was thrown before the wheel of 
 
 8 113 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 the wagon. In a moment he would have been 
 crushed, had not the horses suddenly stopped, as 
 by some supernatural intervention, and he was 
 dragged away from destruction. 
 
 His early education was defective. Though one 
 of the most learned men of this time, he had no 
 University training. "My faults," he says, "are 
 no disgrace to a University, for I was of none. I 
 have little but what I had out of books and the 
 inconsiderable help of country divines." His appe- 
 tite for reading was keen and in the indulgence of it 
 he was omnivorous. There is in his autobiography 
 an oft-quoted passage, where he speaks of the wide 
 range of his reading, of which the following extract 
 is only a portion: "I have looked over . . . 
 Erasmus, Scaliger, Salmasius, Casaubon and many 
 other critical grammarians. I have read almost all 
 the physics and metaphysics I could hear of . . . 
 whole loads of historians, chronologers and anti- 
 quaries. I despise none of their learning. All 
 truth is useful; mathematics, which I have least of, 
 I find a pretty manlike sport. But if I had no other 
 kind of knowledge than these, what were my under- 
 standing worth? — I have higher thoughts of the 
 schoolmen than Erasmus had; I much value the 
 method and sobriety of Aquinas, the subtilty of 
 Scotus and Occam, the plainness of Durandus, the 
 solidity of Ariminensis, the profundity of Brad- 
 wardine, the excellent acuteness of many of their 
 followers [giving the names of more than twenty] 
 and many others. But how loath should I be to 
 take such sauce for my food and such recreations for 
 
 114 \ 
 
 \ 
 
 \ 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 my business! The jingling of too much and too 
 false philosophy among them oft drowns the noise 
 of Aaron's bells." He had, however, his favorite 
 authors, to whom he gave a more particular study, 
 among them, Richard Hooker; and a careful exami- 
 nation of Baxter's works shows that he had studied 
 deeply and learned much from the "Ecclesiastical 
 Polity." 
 
 Baxter was ordained for the ministry in his 
 twenty -third year in Worcester Cathedral. After 
 preaching here and there for two years or more 
 without any stated charge, he entered upon his 
 pastorate at Kidderminster in 1640, when he was 
 twenty -five years old. "There are some three or 
 four parishes in England," says Dean Stanley, 
 "which have been raised by their pastors to a world- 
 wide fame. Of these the most conspicuous is Kidder- 
 minster. Kidderminster without Baxter would have 
 nothing but its carpets." 
 
 A Remarkable Preacher 
 
 His preaching was characterized from the start 
 by great evangelic earnestness. He so felt the 
 importance of the soul's salvation and the adequacy 
 of the gospel for it, that he thought that "if men 
 only heard this as they ought, they could not but 
 repent. And I was so foolish as to think that I had 
 so much to say of such convincing force for the truth 
 that men could scarcely be able to withstand it." 
 
 Baxter's qualifications as a preacher were extra- 
 ordinary. He had all the fervor and intensity of 
 
 115 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Whitefield united with great reasoning power. 
 Besides this, he had what he calls "a familiar 
 moving voice," which he knew how to manage so 
 that every thought was uttered with its proper 
 intonation and in which was heard "the accent of 
 conviction." He took great pains with the prepara- 
 tion and delivery of his sermons. It is evident from 
 some passages in his writings, that he made a careful 
 study of the art of preaching and that he gave much 
 attention to both the matter and the manner of his 
 public addresses. "In the study of our sermons," 
 he says, "we are too negligent. We must study 
 how to convince and get within men, and how to 
 bring each truth to the quick, and not leave all this 
 to our extemporary promptitude. . . . How few 
 ministers preach with all their might! There is 
 nothing more unsuitable to such a business than to 
 be slight and dull. What! speak coldly for God and 
 for men's salvation! Let the people see that you are 
 in earnest; — Men will not cast away their dearest 
 pleasures upon a drowsy request. A great matter 
 lies in the very pronunciation and tone of speech. 
 The best matter will scarcely move men if it be not 
 movingly delivered. See that there be no affectation, 
 but let us speak as familiarly to our people as we 
 would do if we were talking to any of them personally. 
 We must lay siege to the souls of sinners. In 
 preaching there is intended a communion of souls and 
 a communication from ours unto theirs. I have 
 observed that God seldom blesseth any man's work 
 so much as his whose heart is set upon success." 
 From "The Reformed Pastor.") 
 
 116 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 His personal appearance in the pulpit matched 
 well with his entrancing voice, unmistakable sincerity 
 and earnestness of spirit. His countenance in 
 speaking was animated, and lighted up by large, 
 serious eyes, which looked the entreaty that his 
 tongue uttered. Delicate health, from which he 
 suffered nearly all his life and by which he was often 
 brought near to death, lent additional force to his 
 speech. His words were those of "a man that was 
 betwixt living and dead," so that, in his own phrase, 
 he "preached as a dying man to dying men." But 
 there was no suggestion of feebleness in his speaking. 
 Such was the strength of his reasoning and the grip 
 of his thought, and his ardent spirit so energized his 
 fragile frame and physical powers that he made the 
 impression of remarkable tireless vigor as he advanced 
 in his discourse. His style was that of genuine oral 
 address, a real talking style, though he usually read 
 his sermons. We have the evidence of this in his 
 published works, like the "Call to the Uncon- 
 verted," which contain the substance of sermons 
 actually preached. Many of their passages are but 
 transcripts or extracts from those sermons, preserv- 
 ing for us the style and forms of thought which 
 marked his preaching. Evidently this was marked, 
 as Archdeacon Trench says, by "a robust and mas- 
 culine eloquence." He had a strong imagination, 
 and used it with rare effect when proper; but he 
 possessed also the judgment and self-restraint not 
 to use it when there was danger from its use of 
 diverting the hearer from serious attention to the 
 truth presented. 
 
 117 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Nothing can be wiser from a rhetorical point of 
 view than some of his remarks upon the sort of style 
 required for successful preaching: 
 
 "The plainest words are the most profitable 
 oratory in the weightiest matters. Fineness is for 
 ornament and delicacy for delight, but they answer 
 not necessity. Yea, it is hard for the hearer to 
 observe the matter of ornament and delicacy, and 
 not be carried from the matter of necessity; for it 
 usually hindereth the due operation of the matter, 
 keeps it from the heart, stops it in the fancy and 
 makes it seem light as the style. . . . All our 
 teaching must be as plain and evident as we can 
 make it. If you would not teach men, what do you 
 do in the pulpit? If you would, why do you not 
 speak so as to be understood?" (From "The Re- 
 formed Pastor.") 
 
 He preached with a conviction amounting to 
 certainty of the truth of the Scriptures, due to a 
 remarkable personal religious experience which he 
 had in sickness. Having this conviction, he endeav- 
 ored to impart it to his hearers. To this end it was 
 his practice "so to study the Scripture as to find 
 passages of it capable of simple explanation and 
 appeal, which would fasten readily upon the hearer's 
 mind and would occupy his daily thoughts until 
 he was entirely possessed by the fact of the imme- 
 diate necessity and wisdom of guiding himself by it." 
 So believing the Bible, and so trying to have others 
 believe it, he proved the saying true, that "nothing 
 can withstand the force of the man who upon the 
 most awful of all subjects is absolutely sure of 
 
 118 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 what he says, and is resolved that others shall 
 be so, too." 
 
 He possessed, furthermore, as a crowning excel- 
 lence a real passion for saving souls. "It was 
 Baxter's meat and drink," says Dr. Bates, his 
 eulogist, "the life and joy of his life, to do good to 
 souls." Not Whitefield, nor Wesley, nor the most 
 ardent for evangelistic conquests in the ministry of 
 later times, surpasses Baxter in this quality. This 
 was his chief distinction as a preacher and gave 
 efficacy to all his gifts, his persuasive voice, his 
 countenance, his powers of reasoning, his rare 
 felicity of language, his rich religious experience, his 
 spirituality. 
 
 Possessing these remarkable qualifications for 
 preaching, no doubt he preached at times with great 
 eloquence. The proof of it is still perceivable in his 
 published works and sermons. They abound in 
 passages which no one can read unmoved. If 
 printed discourses, two hundred and fifty years after 
 they were uttered, contain such subtle fire, able to 
 kindle a cold reader to spiritual fervor, what must 
 have been the flame that burned upon his tongue .^^ 
 It was an eloquence that attracted and impressed all 
 classes, educated men and substantial citizens, 
 likewise the humblest and poorest. "My public 
 preaching," he says, "met with an attentive, dihgent 
 auditory. The congregation was usually full, so 
 that we were fain to build five galleries after my 
 coming, the church being the most commodious that 
 ever I was in." It produced an immediate good 
 effect upon the life of the community. "On the 
 
 119 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Lord's days there was no disorder to be seen in the ] 
 
 streets, but you might hear a hundred famihes { 
 
 singing psalms and repeating sermons as you passed i 
 
 them." I 
 
 i 
 
 Interruption of Work by the Civil War \ 
 
 The breaking out of the Civil War, in a year or two 
 after his advent to the town, interrupted the good 
 
 work so well begun in Kidderminster. Through the \ 
 
 powerful influence of certain royalist families the j 
 
 town took the side of the king; but Baxter, though ! 
 
 a zealous churchman and loyal to the royal family, ! 
 
 was suspected of sympathizing with the Puritan \ 
 
 party in the conflict because of the more obvious | 
 harmony of his religious opinions and practice with 
 
 theirs, and he was publicly denounced as a traitor, ; 
 and threatened with violence by the vicious and 
 turbulent spirits of the town whose sins he reproved. 
 
 At the entreaty of his friends he accordingly left the j 
 
 place and took refuge in the walled town of Coventry, ' 
 
 where for two years he labored diligently, preaching i 
 twice weekly to the people and the soldiers, — " taking 
 nothing from either but his diet" for his service. 
 "Like men in a dry house who hear the storms 
 abroad," he and his friends there heard the dreadful 
 
 rumors and sounds of the raging conflict. One day \ 
 
 while he was preaching he heard the cannonading of j 
 
 the battle of Naseby. At length he was induced to i 
 become the chaplain of Whalley's regiment in the 
 
 Parliamentary army and followed it fearlessly into j 
 
 many a hard battle and desperate siege, marching \ 
 
 no i 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 Bible in hand with Cromwell himself to the storming 
 of Basing House. 
 
 Baxter figured during the war in other scenes not 
 quite so heroic though showing an equal stoutness 
 of heart. The Parliamentary army abounded in 
 enthusiasts and sectaries of every stripe, who were 
 as ready for a theological tilt with opposers as for a 
 battle with cavaliers. Baxter feeling it incumbent 
 on him to defend the faith and to expose error — ^he 
 could not sit still and keep silent when what he 
 deemed dangerous heresy was being promulgated 
 — never failed to improve any opportunity offered 
 to encounter these men in argument. So whenever, 
 for the sake of making converts to their opinions, 
 they appointed a public meeting in any place, he 
 would go to it and talk them down. One instance 
 is described by him. "A cornet and troopers of 
 Pitchf ord's regiment appointed a meeting in a certain 
 church. I thought it my duty to be there also. I 
 found a crowded congregation of poor, well-meaning 
 people who came in the simplicity of their hearts to be 
 deceived. I took the reading desk, and the troopers 
 took the gallery, and I alone disputed against them 
 from morning until almost night. If I had but gone 
 out first, they would have prated what boastful words 
 they listed, and made the people believe that they 
 had got the best of it. Therefore I stayed it out 
 until they first rose and went away. The crazy 
 babblers were so discouraged that they never met 
 there again. But, oh, the abundance of nonsense 
 they uttered that day!" He did not suppose, how- 
 ever, that he had confuted them. "There is no 
 
 121 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 confuting a man tliat saith nothing," he dryly 
 remarks. "Nonsense is unanswerable, if thou hast 
 enough of it." 
 
 Opposition to Cromwell 
 
 It is said of Baxter that "he feared no man's 
 displeasure and hoped for no man's preferment." 
 His attitude toward Cromwell proves this. It was 
 an attitude of mingled respect and disapproval. 
 He respected him for his prowess and military genius 
 which were attended with such constant success, and 
 for his Christian character and devption to the 
 interests of religion, by reason of which he says: 
 "Godliness had countenance and reputation, also, 
 as well as liberty; whereas before it was the way of 
 common shame and ruin." It was this personal 
 regard for Cromwell's character and work that had 
 drawn Baxter to the Puritan camp and its service as 
 chaplain. But he remained all the time unalterably 
 opposed to Cromwell's ambition to rule, and fear- 
 lessly criticized his usurpation of political power and 
 authority. He went so far in his opposition as to 
 think seriously, at one time, of trying to get up a 
 counter movement to Cromwell's ambitious policy. 
 Fortunately for him, he was stopped in his endeavor 
 by illness. Cromwell would certainly have arrested 
 him with an iron hand, and Pitchford's troopers 
 would have been found only too willing to silence 
 with their muskets the irrepressible man that had 
 baffled their tongues. Having been given the 
 opportunity, later, to preach before Cromwell, when 
 
 122 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 Protector, Baxter preached on 1 Cor. 1:10, against 
 the divisions and distractions of the Church, and, 
 intending to rebuke him for what he beheved his 
 sin, showed "how mischievous a thing it was for 
 poHticians to maintain such divisions for their own 
 ends, that they might fish in troubled waters." 
 "My plainness," says Baxter, "I heard was dis- 
 pleasing to him and his courtiers, but they put up 
 with it." Soon after that sermon Cromwell sent for 
 Baxter, once and again, for interviews with him, 
 with the aim to vindicate himself from his charges 
 and disarm his hostility, but without apparent effect. 
 *'He began a long and tedious speech to me," says 
 Baxter, "of God's providence in the change of the 
 government and how God had owned it. . . . 
 But I told him that we took our ancient monarchy 
 to be a blessing and not an evil to the land; and 
 humbly craved his patience that I might ask him 
 how England had ever forfeited that blessing, and 
 unto whom that forfeiture was made." 
 
 "A few days after he sent for me again to hear my 
 judgment about liberty of conscience (which he 
 pretended to be most zealous for) before almost all 
 his privy council; where, after another slow tedious 
 speech of his, I told him a little of my judgment. 
 . . . I saw that what he learned must be from 
 himself, being more disposed to speak many hours 
 than to hear one, and little heeding what another 
 said when he had spoken himself." This is a shrewd 
 criticism of Cromwell's character. Baxter's con- 
 temporaries would have said, probably, that it was 
 equally true of Baxter himself. 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 He was hardly just at this time in his estimate of 
 the Protector and his policy. Cromwell understood 
 then the doctrine of religious liberty better than 
 Baxter did, and he was not actuated wholly by 
 selfish ambition as his critics affirmed, but largely 
 by a sincere regard for England's welfare. His 
 patience with Baxter showed great magnanimity. 
 "Had Baxter," says Orme, "used the same freedom 
 with the royal successors of Cromwell which he used 
 with him he would most probably have lost his head." 
 In what he said and did he displayed indeed a fearless 
 courage and he acted from conscientious motives, 
 which was admirable; but we cannot give him credit 
 for wisdom and prudence. He himself confessed 
 as much afterwards. In his "Penitent Confessions," 
 Baxter says: "I am in great doubt how far I did well 
 or ill in my opposition to Cromwell ; whether I should 
 not have been more passive and silent than I was." 
 
 His Return to His Work in Kidderminster 
 
 A sickness, by which he was brought nigh to death, 
 and his dissatisfaction with the course of things, 
 led to his severance of his connection with the Puri- 
 tan army and his return to Kidderminster, at the 
 almost unanimous entreaty of his flock, after an 
 absence of four years. Those four years, with the 
 exciting experiences that filled them, are to be looked 
 upon simply as an interesting episode in Baxter's 
 ministry there. The sad things he had witnessed, 
 the waste and ruin and tragic incidents of the war, 
 served to intensify his earnestness and spur him on 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 to greater diligence and activity in his work. His 
 preaching reflected the deeper earnestness of his 
 spirit and rose to a higher pitch of eloquence. For 
 the space of fourteen years, from 1646 to 1660, he 
 now labors there in Kidderminster as a preacher of 
 the gospel with unsurpassed zeal. "Of all the 
 admirable preachers," says Davies, his biographer, 
 " who have influenced the religious life of the English 
 people, Baxter unquestionably has the preeminence. 
 No one has so convincingly reasoned in the pulpit as 
 he, so powerfully urged, so effectively taught and 
 moved the conscience to right decision." 
 
 His Successful Method in the Cure of Souls 
 
 Baxter's ministry in Kidderminster was also 
 remarkable for the success with which he united in it 
 the pastoral work of family visitation and private 
 religious conversation with his public preaching. 
 His passion for souls did not stop with the labors of 
 the pulpit, nor did his conception of the duties of the 
 minister limit his efforts for their spiritual welfare 
 to such preaching. Both his love of souls and his 
 conception of what is due from the minister to his 
 flock, constrained him to labors outside the pulpit 
 for their benefit. He says: "We should know every 
 person that belongs to our charge; for how can we 
 *take heed to the flock of God,' if we do not know 
 them.f^ Does not a careful shepherd look after every 
 individual sheep, and a good physician attend every 
 particular patient .^^ Why then should not the 
 shepherds and the physicians of the church take heed 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to every member of their charge? Apostolic example 
 and precept urge this. Paul taught the people 
 publicly and from house to house, Varned every 
 man and taught every man that he might present 
 every man perfect in Christ Jesus'; and he charges 
 ministers of the gospel to * watch for souls as those 
 that must give an account.' " The superior effect- 
 iveness of "this private way of preaching" especially 
 recommends it, he asserts. " One word of seasonable 
 advice has done that good which many sermons have 
 failed of doing. . . . Yea, I have found that an 
 ignorant sot, who for a long time had been an 
 unprofitable hearer, has got more knowledge and 
 remorse of conscience in half an hour's close conver- 
 sation than he did by ten years' public preaching." 
 
 The reasons why this private, personal method of 
 dealing with individual souls was so effective, are by 
 him thus stated: 
 
 "We have the best opportunity to imprint religious 
 truth upon the heart when we can speak to each 
 one's particular necessity, i.e., his particular case, 
 and address him in regard to it with familiar impor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "By this means you will hear their objections, 
 and discover what it is that resists the truth, and so 
 may be the more able effectually to convince them. 
 We can here answer their objections, drive them to 
 a stand, urge them to discover their purposes for the 
 future, and to promise to use the means of reforma- 
 tion. 
 
 "In private we may speak in a much plainer man- 
 ner than we can in public. In public we cannot use 
 
 126 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 such homely expressions nor so many repetitions as 
 their dullness requires, but in private we may. 
 
 "In public our speeches are long, we quite overrun 
 their understandings and their memories, so that we 
 lose their attention, and they know not what we have 
 been saying; but in private we may take our hearers 
 with us as we go, we have them as interlocutors in 
 what is said, and easily hold their attention." 
 
 It was not until after some years that he undertook 
 this private work. "My apprehensions of it were 
 too small and of the difficulties too great. I thought 
 that the people would scorn it and that only a few 
 would submit to it. The work seemed strange to 
 me and I thought my strength would never go 
 through it." Having ventured, however, upon the 
 experiment, the success of it more than met his 
 expectations. "I find the difficulties," he says, 
 "to be nothing to what I imagined, and I experience 
 the benefits and comforts of the work to be such that 
 I would not wish to have neglected it for all the 
 riches in the world. I cannot say that one family 
 hath refused or that many persons have shifted it 
 off. I wonder at myself that I kept from so clear 
 and excellent a duty so long. We never took the 
 rightest course to demolish the Kingdom of Darkness 
 till now." His rule was to "take each person alone 
 and discourse with him privately. I find by experi- 
 ence that in general people will bear plain and close 
 dealing about their sin and their duty when you have 
 them alone better than when others are present." 
 
 His passion for saving souls prompted him to take 
 another forward step with a view to pressing the 
 
 U7 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 truth home upon every individual in his parish; he 
 invited the more devout and intelligent Christians 
 of the Church to cooperate in the effort with him, 
 saying: "The good work is likely to go on but poorly 
 if none but ministers are employed in it." In this 
 he anticipated by one hundred years the ideas and 
 opinions of John Wesley in regard to the importance 
 and value of lay activity in the Church. He antici- 
 pated Wesley also in adopting the conference and 
 prayer meeting as an evangelizing agency and a 
 means of the development of Christians through the 
 exercise of their gifts. He testifies that "many of 
 them were able to pray very laudably with others, 
 while the temper of their minds and the innocency of 
 their lives was more loud than their parts." Such 
 meetings, usually held weekly, Baxter caused to be 
 started and maintained in different parts of his 
 parish; they formed a part of the net which he spread 
 for souls in Kidderminster, whereby he sought to 
 catch as many for Christ as possible. 
 
 We have dwelt at this length upon the manner 
 in which Baxter fulfilled his pastoral function, 
 because it forms an essential part of his ministerial 
 work in Kidderminster. Without it he could not 
 have accomplished the remarkable work he wrought 
 there, a work so great that it transformed the moral 
 and religious character of the town and gave it, as 
 Stanley says, "a world-wide fame." "When I first 
 came there," he says, "there was about one family 
 in a street that worshipped God; when I came away 
 there were some streets where there was not one 
 family that did not so, and that did not by professing 
 
 128 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 serious godliness give in hopes of their sincerity. 
 In those families which were the worst — those of 
 inns and alehouses — usually some persons in each 
 house did seem to be religious. If not the elders, 
 their children; and then the elders were made more 
 kindly disposed because of the children. Many 
 children did God work upon at fourteen or fifteen 
 or sixteen years of age. This did marvelously 
 reconcile the minds of the parents to godliness, and 
 they that before talked against godliness would not 
 hear it spoken against when it was their children's 
 case." 
 
 The Reformed Pastor 
 
 Another result of his pastoral work of visitation 
 for religious conversation with individuals should 
 be mentioned. It led to the writing by him of "The 
 Reformed Pastor," in which he describes the work 
 undertaken for the spiritual benefit of his flock, its 
 method and success, that other ministers might be 
 stimulated and encouraged to undertake a similar 
 work for their people. From that book we have 
 derived our account of what he did in this particular 
 line in the "Cure of Souls." "It prevailed with 
 many ministers," he says, "to set upon that work 
 which I there exhort them to. Churches either rise 
 or fall as the ministry doth rise or fall." 
 
 This book, by reason of its "thoughts that breathe 
 and words that burn," and its great influence upon 
 subsequent generations of ministers, is one of the 
 most notable in the religious literature of the world. 
 Dr. Philip Doddridge speaks of it as "a most extra- 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ordinary performance," and asserts that "nothing 
 would have a greater tendency to awaken the spirit 
 of a minister to that zeal in his work, for want of 
 which many good men are but shadows of what by 
 the blessing of God they might be if the maxims and 
 measures laid down in this incomparable treatise 
 were strenuously pursued." It is a book of undecay- 
 ing vitality and, consequently, of perennial value. 
 In this belief, the founder of Wellesley College, 
 Mr. Henry C. Durant, in his awakened zeal for the 
 spread of religion, bought up a large number of them 
 for distribution among the ministers of Massachu- 
 setts, to the great spiritual profit, no doubt, of 
 those ministers and their congregations. 
 
 Baxter's Published Works 
 
 Boswell once asked Dr. Johnson which of Baxter's 
 works he recommended him to read. "Read any 
 of them," he replied, "they are all good." This, 
 however, was a careless answer. Baxter's works 
 are not all good, nor is any one of them equally good 
 throughout. If there were no other reason, he 
 wrote too much for uniform excellence. His pub- 
 lished works numbered more than 170 volumes. 
 Besides this, many of them, being controversial and 
 upon questions no longer living, would now be to 
 any one but a church historian dull and unprofitable 
 stuff to read. He often began a controversy in his 
 young manhood without sufficient consideration, 
 and was forced later to shift his ground, and so fell 
 into self-contradictions and glaring inconsistencies, 
 
 130 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 which his opponents pointed out to his discomfiture. 
 One of them compiled a volume composed of the 
 irreconcilable utterances discoverable in Baxter's 
 works, and entitled it "A Dialogue between Richard 
 and Baxter." Bishop Burnet truly says, he "med- 
 dled in too many things," and "was most unhappily 
 subtle and metaphysical in everything." But what- 
 ever may be the contradictions and unprofitable 
 stuff found in any work, such were the genius and 
 piety of the man that, as Dean Stanley says "there 
 run through it golden threads and solid strands which 
 redeem 'it from ignominy, and at times are woven 
 into patches and fringes of glorious splendor." 
 
 In his old age he confessed as a fault the con- 
 troversial propensity and errors displayed by him 
 in earlier years and thus explains how it happened: 
 "To tell the truth, while I busily read what other 
 men said in these controversies, my mind was so 
 prepossessed with their notions that I could not 
 possibly see the truth in its own native and naked 
 evidence; and when I entered into public disputations 
 concerning it, though I was truly willing to know the 
 truth, my mind was so forestalled with borrowed 
 notions that I chiefly studied how to make good the 
 opinions I had received, and ran farther from the 
 truth. Yea, when I read the truth in Dr. Preston's 
 and other men's writings I did not consider and 
 understand it, and when I heard it from them whom 
 I opposed in wrangling disputations, or read it in 
 books of controversy, I discerned it least of all; till 
 at last being in my sickness cast far from home, where 
 I had no book but my Bible, I set to study the truth 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 from thence and so by the blessing of God discovered 
 more in one week than I had done before in seven- 
 teen years' reading, hearing and wrangHng." 
 
 His Practical Works 
 
 Baxter's great merit as an author rests chiefly 
 upon his practical works. The most notable of these, 
 besides the "Reformed Pastor" are: 'The Saint's 
 Rest," "A Call to the Unconverted," "Reasons 
 for the Christian Religion," "The Right Method 
 for a Settled Peace of Conscience," "The Cru- 
 cifixion of the World by the Cross of Christ," 
 "Dying Thoughts," and "Reliquae Baxterianae" 
 — "Baxter's Narrative of his Life and Times." The 
 "Saint's Rest" was his first as well as most widely 
 known book. It was written in his thirty fourth 
 year, when "sentenced to death" by his physicians. 
 Its design was to be "a directory for getting and keep- 
 ing the heart in heaven by heavenly meditation," 
 and he put into it such directions as he had found 
 good for himself when expecting soon to die. Books 
 of this kind, in which are distilled the heart's real 
 experiences and which, as John Milton says, "pre- 
 serve as in a vial the purest efiicacy and extraction 
 of the living intellect that bred them," touch men 
 most deeply and live long. The "Saint's Rest" is, 
 therefore, still a live book. So likewise are his other 
 practical writings that have been mentioned. Their 
 thoughts are good for all time, and expressed in a 
 remarkable style. "There reigns in it," as Arch- 
 bishop Trench says, "a robust and masculine elo- 
 
 132 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 quence, nor does it want from time to time rare and 
 unsought felicity of language, which once heard Can 
 scarcely be forgotten." These words of Trench 
 concerning Baxter's style, "rare and unsought felicity 
 of language," express the literal truth about it. It 
 was "rare," but not, like the style of Cardinal New- 
 man and Stevenson, the result of painstaking toil 
 and long effort. Its "felicity" was "unsought"; it 
 was natural to him, the unstudied manner in which 
 his thought expressed itself. "Probably," says one 
 of his admirers, "he never consumed forty minutes 
 in as many years in the mere selection and adjust- 
 ment of words." And Baxter himself says of his 
 published writings: "I scarce ever wrote one sheet 
 twice over, nor stayed to make any blots or inter- 
 lineations, but would fain let it go as it was first con- 
 ceived." His earnest mind in its expression of the 
 good thoughts within him chose instinctively the 
 right language, such language as most aptly and 
 happily clothed what he wanted to say. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, that all his practical 
 writings have one obvious fault, that of redundancy 
 of thought, not of language. Though Isaac Barrow 
 affirms that "they were never mended," the affirma- 
 tion is not strictly true. They have been really 
 improved and made more readable by considerable 
 abridgment. It is the fault of an affluent mind that 
 from its fulness overflows to excess. But in every 
 book he wrote there are passages that are remarkable 
 for their conciseness, force and beauty. There are 
 gems of thought on almost every page, which enrich 
 the unprofitable stuff, as the diamonds the blue 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ground in the South African mines, in which they 
 lie embedded. Take the following examples : " When 
 half is unknown, the other half is not half known. ^^ 
 *' Truth is so dear a friend, and he that sent it is so 
 much more dear, that whatever I suffer I dare not stifle 
 or conceal it.'' " The melody of music is better known 
 by hearing it than by reports of it. So there is a latent 
 sense in us of the effects of the gospel in our hearts, 
 which will ever cause us to love it and to hold it fast.'' 
 
 Baxter's Work after the Restoration of the 
 Monarchy 
 
 At the Restoration, Baxter, because of his promi- 
 nence in England as a clergyman and religious 
 writer, and his great influence among the Dissenters 
 and Moderate Churchmen, was invited to take a 
 leading part in the consideration and discussion of 
 some of the questions which then engaged the atten- 
 tion of the nation, the king and his court. Holding 
 a foremost place among these questions was, whether 
 concessions should be made and pains taken to gain 
 the Dissenters or not, especially the Presbyterians, 
 to representatives of whom the king at Breda, before 
 his return to England, had promised that if restored 
 to the throne of his father he would grant "liberty 
 and consideration for tender consciences," and that 
 " no man should be molested for differences of opinion 
 in matters of religion." Lord Chancellor Hyde, the 
 Earl of Clarendon, was apparently for concession, 
 and. Bishop Burnet says, "got the king to publish 
 a declaration, soon after his restoration, concerning 
 
 134 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 ecclesiastical affairs, to which if he had stood, very 
 probably the greatest part of them might have been 
 gained. But the bishops did not approve of this, 
 . . . and instead of using methods to bring in 
 these sectaries, they resolved rather to seek the most 
 effectual ones for casting them out." 
 
 The bishops managed, by rekindling the animosi- 
 ties produced by the Civil War, and by infusing into 
 the mind of the king distrust of the loyalty of the 
 Dissenters, to bring over the king to their side. 
 Burnet says that under his compliance, however, the 
 king concealed the design of favorable legislation for 
 popery. " Nothing could make toleration for popery 
 pass (he thought) but the having great bodies of 
 men put out of the Church and put under severe 
 laws, which should force them to move for a tolera- 
 tion and should make it reasonable to grant it to 
 them. And it was resolved that whatever should 
 be granted of that sort should go in so large a manner 
 that Papists should be comprehended in it." The 
 King's "Declaration" was no doubt shaped by this 
 secret purpose and was less moderate and concilia- 
 tory than had been anticipated. "When we received 
 this copy of the Declaration," says Baxter, "we saw 
 that it would not serve to heal our differences. We 
 therefore told the Lord Chancellor that our endeavors 
 as to concord would all be frustrated if much were 
 not altered in the Declaration." Baxter was chosen 
 to put their objections to it in a petition, which he 
 wrote with his usual warmth and frankness. When 
 this was laid before his associates, "they were 
 troubled," says Baxter, "at the plainness of it. It 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 was not my unskillfulness in a more pleasing 
 language, but my reason and conscience upon fore- 
 sight of the issue which were the cause." He refused 
 to alter it, until "they told me it would not so much 
 as be received and that I must go with it myself, for 
 nobody else would." The petition, as altered, was 
 still "ungrateful" and rejected by the Lord Chan- 
 cellor. 
 
 Finally, after considerable more parleying, the 
 following course, according to Baxter's account 
 (abridged), was decided upon: "A day was appointed 
 for his majesty to peruse (in their presence) the 
 Declaration, as it was drawn up by the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, and to allow what he liked, and alter the rest 
 upon the hearing of what both sides had to say." 
 
 The following account of the interview of the 
 Nonconformists with the king is given by Baxter: 
 "The business of the day was not to dispute, but as 
 the Lord Chancellor read over the 'Declaration,' each 
 party was to speak to what it disliked, and the king 
 to determine how it should be, as he liked himself. 
 . The great matter which we stopped at was 
 the word 'consent' (where the bishop is to confirm 
 by the 'consent' of the pastor of the church). . . . 
 The King would by no means pass the word 'consent' 
 either then, or in the point of ordination, or censures ; 
 because it gave the ministers a negative voice [thus 
 limiting the bishop's power and authority] . I insisted 
 that, though 'consent' be but a little word, it was 
 necessary to a very desirable end, union, which would 
 not be attained if no consent were allowed ministers 
 in any part of the government of their flocks. 
 
 136 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 "The most of the time being spent thus in speak- 
 ing to particulars of the Declaration, as it was read, 
 when we came to the end, the Lord Chancellor drew 
 out another paper and told us that the king had been 
 petitioned also by the Independents and Anabaptists, 
 and though he knew not what to think of it himself 
 and did not very well like it, yet something he had 
 drawn up which he would read to us, and desire us 
 also to give our advice about it." Thereupon he 
 read, as an addition to the declaration, "that others 
 also be permitted to meet for religious worship, so be 
 it they do it not to the disturbance of the peace, and 
 that no justice of peace or officer disturb them!" 
 
 Had this "addition" been promptly accepted by 
 both parties and incorporated in the declaration, 
 and the whole at once enacted into the law of the 
 realm, the "union" sought would have been achieved. 
 But after the reading of it, "all were silent," says 
 Baxter. "The Presbyterians perceived, as soon as 
 they heard it, that it would secure the liberty of 
 the Papists; and Dr. WaUis whispered this in my 
 ear, but entreated me to 'say nothing,' and to let 
 the bishops speak to it. But the bishops would 
 not speak a word, nor any one of the Presbyterians. 
 . . . I knew, if we consented to it, it would be 
 charged on us that we spoke for a toleration of 
 Papists and Sectaries; and if we spoke against it, 
 all sects and parties would be set against us as the 
 causers of their sufferings. At last, seeing the silence 
 continue, I thought our very silence would be 
 charged on us as consent, if it went on, and therefore, 
 I said only this: "This reverend brother (pointing 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to Dr. Gunning, a leader of the Episcopal party) 
 even now speaking against the sects, named the 
 Papists and the Socinians; for our parts we desired 
 not favor to ourselves alone, and rigorous severity 
 we desired against none; but we distinguished the 
 tolerable parties from the intolerable. For the 
 latter, such as the two sorts named by that reverend 
 brother, for our parts, we could not make their 
 toleration our request." 
 
 It was one of the faults of Baxter that he was not 
 always self-consistent in what he said and did. We 
 have here a notable instance. Previously, in the 
 days of Cromwell's protectorate, he was on the com- 
 mittee to settle the fundamentals of religion as a 
 basis of toleration and religious liberty, and what 
 he then proposed as fundamental was objected to as 
 something " which might be subscribed by a Papist or 
 Socinian." ''So much the better,'' was Baxter's reply, 
 " and so much the fitter it is to be the matter of concord.'' 
 At the time of the conference with the king and 
 Clarendon he was probably of the same opinion still, 
 though what he now said in objection to "the 
 addition" seemed opposed to the former opinion. 
 The explanation of it is, that he volunteered at this 
 time to speak for the Presbyterian members of the con- 
 ference, rather than for himself. As we look back 
 upon it, the objection thus prompted was ill-timed 
 and most unfortunate, defeating the cause of tolera- 
 tion and religious liberty most dear to his heart. 
 If Baxter, always too forward to speak, had restrained 
 his tongue on this occasion with the rest, the religious 
 toleration, not only of the Papists, which the king 
 
 138 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 desired, but of all the Nonconformist bodies, Presby- 
 terians, Independents, Anabaptists, Quakers and 
 Socinians (tolerance of which the Episcopalians 
 opposed), would have been then and there secured. 
 Why did he not say "Yes"? Because he did not 
 now openly avow his former opinion undisturbed by 
 the disapproval which he read on the faces of those 
 about him. "I should as willingly be a martyr for 
 charity as for faith," is one of his famous sentences. 
 It is a pity that this sentiment did not fortify his 
 resolution at that moment. But the intolerant 
 atmosphere he breathed may have clouded at the 
 time his spirit, — or he may not have reached the 
 positive conviction of his later years. Why did not 
 the Presbyterians say *' Yes' ' ? Because John Knox's 
 hatred of popery was still felt by them. Why did 
 not the bishops say "Yes," and avoid the infamy they 
 incurred by the "Act of Uniformity," the "Test 
 Acts," and the cruel persecutions they relentlessly 
 waged against the Nonconformists the next twenty 
 five years .^ Because they remembered the persecu- 
 tions of the Romish Church under Mary Tudor a 
 hundred years before, and shared the horror of the 
 majority of the English people for the papacy on 
 account of them; a horror kept alive among the 
 English people by Fox's "Book of Martyrs," which 
 with his Bible John Bunyan carried with him to his 
 prison, and the reading of which made him and other 
 sufferers from Episcopal intolerance prefer to endure 
 these sufferings rather than purchase religious liberty 
 by extending it to Papists. The dread of having 
 their land come again under the dominion of the 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Romish Church haunted, and still haunts, the 
 majority of the people of Great Britain like a per- 
 sistent nightmare. 
 
 "When I went out from the meeting I went out 
 dejected," says Baxter, ** satisfied that the form of 
 government outlined in that 'Declaration' would not 
 be satisfactory, because the pastors had no govern- 
 ment of the flocks." 
 
 Before it was published, however, it was so 
 modified through the influence of two great nobles, 
 that the chief objection found in the conference over 
 it was removed. "The word 'consenf in regard to 
 confirmation and the sacrament was put in, though 
 not as to jurisdiction." Because of this concession 
 Baxter agreed to "do his best" to induce all to 
 conform according to the terms of the Declaration. 
 
 To strengthen the bond which held him but slightly 
 to the State Church, the Lord Chancellor offered him 
 the bishopric of Hereford, which he declined. 
 
 The Savoy Conference 
 
 In his "Declaration" the king had intimated that 
 the liturgy of the Church should be revised and 
 certain alterations adopted to meet the wishes of the 
 Nonconformists. In fulfillment of this promise a 
 commission was issued under the great seal empower- 
 ing chosen representatives of both sides to meet for 
 the purpose. The Archbishop of York and twelve 
 bishops represented the Episcopal side, and eleven 
 Nonconformist ministers, of whom Baxter was one, 
 the other side. The place of meeting for the con- 
 
 140 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 sideration and discussion of the alterations desired 
 was the Savoy palace, the official residence of the 
 bishop of London. In this conference, which was 
 limited to three months and recognized in English 
 history as singular and notable, Baxter was the pro- 
 tagonist of the Nonconformist party. At its open- 
 ing meeting the Bishop of London, speaking for his 
 side, said, as Baxter reports: ''it was not they but 
 we (the Nonconformists) that had been the seekers 
 of this Conference, and who had desired alterations 
 in the liturgy; and therefore they had nothing to say 
 or do till we had brought in all we had to say against 
 it in writing, and all the additional forms and altera- 
 tions which we desired." "I was wholly of his 
 mind," says Baxter, " and prevailed with my brethren 
 to consent. We accepted of the task which they 
 imposed upon us, yet so as to bring all our exceptions 
 at one time, and all our additions at another time." 
 
 In the division of this task, the companions of 
 Baxter distributed among themselves the selection 
 of exceptions to the Common Prayer Book, and he 
 took the additions or new forms to be proposed. 
 With characteristic energy and dispatch he per- 
 formed his work in a fortnight, and finding his 
 brethren still toiling over theirs, took hold and helped 
 them with a paper of such exceptions as occurred 
 to him. 
 
 When they submitted their work to the bishops, 
 they found them indisposed to accept any of the 
 changes proposed, and ready stoutly to defend 
 liturgy and prayer book, as if it were a profanation 
 to alter them in any particular, though after the 
 
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 conference, when the heat of their joint discussion 
 was over, they agreed among themselves to con- 
 siderable additions and alterations. 
 
 Bishop Burnet gives an interesting contemporary 
 view of the conference. He says: "The two men 
 that had the chief management of the debate were 
 the most unfit to heal matters, and the fittest to 
 widen them that could have been found. Baxter was 
 the opponent, and Gunning (afterwards made bishop 
 of Ely) was respondent. He was noted for a special 
 subtlety of arguing. All the arts of sophistry were 
 made use of by him on all occasions in as confident a 
 manner as if they had been sound reasoning. Baxter 
 and he spent some days in much logical arguing to 
 the diversion of the town, who thought here were a 
 couple of fencers engaged in disputes that could 
 never be brought to an end, or have any good effect." 
 
 No "good effect," or gain to religion, or to the 
 cause of truth ever resulted from such a discussion. 
 Baxter himself learned this, later, to his complete 
 satisfaction, and describes the result in most expres- 
 sive language: "7 have perceived,'' he says, ''that 
 nothing so much hinder eth the reception of the truth as 
 urging it on men with too harsh importunity, and falling 
 too heavily on their errors; for hereby you engage their 
 honor in the business, and they defend their errors as 
 themselves and stir up all their wit and ability to oppose 
 you. In a learning way men are ready to receive the 
 truth, but in a disputing way, they come armed against 
 it with prejudice and animosity.'' 
 
 And so the efforts which Baxter and his Noncon- 
 forming associates made for the religious peace and 
 
 142 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 concord of their torn and distracted land, and from 
 which they had hoped so much, ended in utter, dis- 
 astrous failure. The "Convocation" soon adopted 
 additions to the prayer book that made it still more 
 repugnant to them, and Parliament passed an Act of 
 Uniformity with new forms of subscription that were 
 far harder to bear than the old ones were. The 
 baleful mischief wrought by the Act to the civil and 
 religious welfare of England is thus candidly stated 
 by that eminent churchman, the late Professor 
 Benjamin Jowett, Master of Balliol, Cambridge; 
 *'0n August 22, the Nonconformist ministers (2000 
 of them) were finally expelled by the Act of Uniform- 
 ity. That was the greatest misfortune that has 
 ever befallen this country, a misfortune that has 
 never been retrieved. For it has made two nations 
 of us instead of one, in politics, in religion, almost in 
 our notion of right and wrong; it arrayed one class 
 of society permanently against another, and many 
 of the political difficulties of our own time have their 
 origin in the enmities caused by the rout of August 
 22, 1662, called 'Black Bartholomew's Day,' which 
 Baxter vainly strove to avert."* 
 
 Baxter, though a minister of the Established 
 Church and greatly beloved by most of the people 
 of his parish which he had so greatly blessed by his 
 ministry and exalted to a place of lasting honor 
 among the parishes of the Christian world, was 
 deprived by the ecclesiastical authorities of his 
 charge in Kidderminster. His offense was the 
 
 * Sennona, Biographical and Miscellaneous, by Benjamin Jowett — E. P. Button 
 & Co., Pub. 
 
 143 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 unpardonable one in the eyes of the restored mon- 
 archy and the ruhng churchmen, of being eminent 
 for piety and of holding the religious opinions of the 
 discredited Puritan party, that had ceased from 
 power with the death of Cromwell, and of earnestly 
 reaffirming the doctrines of their own great divines, 
 Jeremy Taylor and Chillingworth, in regard to 
 religious toleration and liberty of conscience, and of 
 having endeavored in conference with them to get 
 their consent to have these doctrines incorporated 
 in the law of the land for the sake of its peace and 
 the religious quiet of all. On this account his 
 reasonable request to be formally invested by the 
 new government with the vicarship of the town was 
 refused and he was practically deposed, after two 
 years, from the ministry. Though the most powerful 
 preacher in England, he was forbidden to preach, or 
 minister to any other flock, and thus doomed to 
 silence for nearly the remainder of his days, a period 
 of about thirty years. 
 
 For this exclusion of Baxter from his minsterial 
 work, Morley, his diocesan bishop, was chiefly 
 responsible. He had acquired for Baxter an implac- 
 able dislike, most unchristian and indefensible, from 
 which he never relented. 
 
 And because of Baxter's prominence in the religious 
 world he was ever an object of bitter persecution. 
 "When I sit in a corner," he says, "and meddle with 
 nobody and hope the world will forget that I am 
 alive, court, city and country are still filled with 
 clamors against me." No unprejudiced, fair-minded 
 man can read of the unjust treatment he received 
 
 144 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 from court and prelates, especially from Bishop 
 Morley, without hot indignation. 
 
 But God gave to him the comfort of good friends, 
 among whom was Sir Matthew Hale, and a romantic 
 consolation in the shape of a lovely wife, Margaret 
 Charleton, a young woman of beauty, refinement, and 
 of high social position, who, touched by his wrongs 
 and reverencing his saintly character, delicately 
 offered herself to him in marriage, to be the sharer 
 of his obloquy and the comforter of his heart in his 
 affliction. Her friends and acquaintances endeav- 
 ored in vain to turn her from her purpose. They 
 disparaged him as a man of ignoble birth, of "a 
 family so obscure that no one could tell whence he 
 came." "True," she replied, "but / know where he is^ 
 going and I want to go with him.'' "It was rung 
 about everywhere," says Baxter, "partly as a won- 
 der, partly as a crime, and the king's marriage was 
 scarcely more talked of than mine." The marriage 
 proved a happy one; and with the blessing of his 
 wife's society and love he found it easy to endure the 
 trials of ejectment from the ministry with its enforced 
 silence and continued persecution in addition to the 
 misery of poor health. 
 
 Though his tongue was silenced by the ban put 
 upon his preaching, his pen continued to be busy in 
 spite of his poor health. Some of his best works, 
 like "Dying Thoughts" and the "Narrative of His 
 Life," were produced in this period. "The Dying 
 Thoughts," like "The Saint's Rest," was written by 
 him primarily for his own use. He was for a long 
 time "unresolved whether anyone else should ever 
 
 10 145 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 see it." He finally gave it to a publisher in iht 
 hope that "the same thoughts may be useful to 
 others that are so for me. If those men's lives were 
 spent in serious thoughts of death who are now 
 studying to destroy each other and tear in pieces a 
 distressed land, they would prevent much dolorous 
 repentance." The "Dying Thoughts" contains just 
 such thoughts, expressed in Baxter's best style, as 
 are appropriate and helpful to one nearing death, or 
 supposes he is, because of failing health. They 
 exhibit the calm serenity of one who through the 
 power of the gospel is able to contemplate death 
 not only with composure but with a holy joy. The 
 book has given comfort to many people in the pros- 
 pect of death. It gave consolation, in particular, to 
 the celebrated Lord William Russell before his exe- 
 cution, a judicial murder in the reign of Charles II. 
 Some of the works of Baxter, written at this time 
 with the most excellent intention of promoting 
 religious harmony, failed sadly of their purpose. 
 Instead, like his endeavors at the Savoy conference, 
 they drew upon him a more bitter and determined 
 hostility and much savage criticism and abuse. 
 The cause, apparently, was his unfortunate, offensive 
 manner of approaching and attacking the position 
 of opponents. Orme, his biographer, says — in com- 
 paring his character and mode of discussion with 
 those of the celebrated Dr. Owen — "Baxter was 
 sharp and cutting, and disposed to push matters 
 further than the circumstances of the times admitted. 
 The deportment of Owen was bland and conciliating 
 compared with that of Baxter. Hence Owen fre- 
 
 146 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 quently made friends of enemies, while Baxter often 
 made enemies of friends." 
 
 A notable illustration of this is found in his famous 
 controversy with Edward Bagshaw, a former friend 
 and champion of his cause against Bishop Morley, 
 who took offense at a book published by Baxter, 
 entitled "A Cure for Church Divisions," which Bag- 
 shaw thought reflected too severely and unjustly upon 
 some Dissenters, and wrote a reply to it. This reply 
 called out from Baxter a rejoinder, which Bagshaw 
 answered with "A Defense." This, Baxter hotly 
 declared to be "full of untruths which the furious 
 and temerarious man did utter out of the rashness of 
 his mind." This drew from Baxter "A Second Ad- 
 monition" to Mr. Bagshaw, "written to call him to 
 repentance for many false doctrines and especially 
 fourscore palpable untruths in matters of fact." 
 Again Bagshaw replied with "A Review: All of Mr. 
 Baxter's Calumnies Refuted," to which Baxter fi- 
 nally rejoined with "The Church told of Mr. Ed- 
 ward Bagshaw's Scandal." Of this last rejoinder, 
 Baxter says: "About the day that it came out, Mr. 
 Bagshaw died a prisoner, which made it grevious to 
 me to think that I must seem to write against the 
 dead"; and then, as if condemning his own part in 
 the controversy as utterly futile and foolish, he adds : 
 "While we wrangle here in the dark we are dying 
 and passing to the world that will decide all our 
 controversies; and the safest passage thither is by 
 peaceable holiness." 
 
 Doubtless his feeling of the shocking impropriety 
 of this bitter controversy, in view of its sad conclusion 
 
 147 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 was heightened by the thought that Mr. Bagshaw 
 had once been his friend and former defender. 
 
 "Each spoke words of high disdain 
 And insult to his heart's best brother: 
 They parted, ne'er to meet again!" 
 
 "I cannot forgive myself," he says, later on in life, 
 "for rash words or deeds by which I have seemed less 
 tender and kind than I should have been to my near 
 and dear relations. When such are dead, every sour 
 or cross provoking word which I gave them maketh 
 me almost unreconcilable with myself, and tells me 
 how repentance brought some of old in the hurry of 
 their passion to pray to the dead whom they had 
 wronged to forgive them." 
 
 The affair with Mr. Bagshaw had no transient 
 effect on Baxter's mind. It appears to have wrought, 
 besides the compunction of heart shown by the 
 words that have been quoted, a deep and permanent 
 change in him. Whereas he had been, as Dean 
 Stanley says, "provokingly contentious, at times 
 captious beyond endurance," sharp and cutting in his 
 reproofs, and disposed (in his eagerness to refute 
 opponents in controversy), as Orme says, "to push 
 matters further than the circumstances of the times 
 admitted," he became at last tolerant and gentle 
 toward those who differed from him in their religious 
 and theological opinions, until he arrived at the 
 point of saying: "Almost all the contentions of 
 divines, — the sects, the factions, the unreconciled 
 
 148 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 feuds, the differences in religion, which have been 
 the taunt of the devil and of his emissaries in 
 the world, have come from pretended knowledge 
 and of taking uncertain for certain truths. Richard 
 Baxter, by God's blessing, on long and hard studies 
 hath learned to know that he knoweth but lit- 
 tle, and to suspend his judgment of uncertainties 
 and to take great, necessary and certain things for 
 the food of his faith and comfort, and the measure 
 of his church communion." 
 
 He made the motto of those last years of his life 
 the now familiar maxim of all tolerant Christians: 
 ''In necessary things unity, in unnecessary things 
 liberty, in all things charity,'' which he had discovered 
 in a Latin treatise of Rupertus Meldenius, an obscure 
 German writer and conciliatory theologian of the 
 seventeenth century, and "which," says Dean 
 Stanley, "has gradually entered into universal 
 literature and been deemed worthy of the great 
 Augustine, who, I fear, with all his power and piety 
 never, or hardly ever, wrote anything so good or so 
 wise as this." 
 
 The great change wrought in Baxter bore precious 
 fruit in his last uncompleted literary work, the "Nar- 
 rative of His Own Life," pubKshed after his death. 
 We refer especially to the last twenty pages or 
 thereabouts of the First Part, where he reviews the 
 changes that had occurred in his own mind, and in 
 his opinions and conclusions " since the unriper times 
 of his youth." "It stands," says Dean Stanley, 
 "in the very foremost rank of autobiographical 
 reflections; and I make bold to say that in permanent 
 
 149 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 practical instruction it as much exceeds anything 
 even in the * Confessions ' of Augustine, as in ordi- 
 nary fame it falls below them." Stanley's attention 
 was directed to it as a remarkable piece of literature 
 by Sir James Stevens. "Lose not a day in reading 
 it," Stevens said. "You will never repent of it." 
 "That very night I followed his advice," says 
 Stanley, "and I have ever since, publicly and 
 privately, advised every theological student to do 
 the same." As Stanley pronounces it "the very 
 flower of Baxter's writings" I shall be justified 
 in dwelling upon and quoting from it at some 
 length. 
 
 Contrasting what he was and thought as a young 
 man with what he had become through his enlighten- 
 ing experiences and the mental growth and studies 
 of years, he says: "I was then like a man of quick 
 understanding that was to travel a way which he 
 never went before, or to cast up an account which 
 he never labored in before. ... I am now like 
 one of a somewhat slower understanding, who is 
 traveling a way which he hath often gone, and is 
 casting up an account which he hath ready at hand, 
 so that I can very confidently say, my judgment is 
 much sounder and firmer than it was then." 
 
 In his review he touches upon a considerable num- 
 ber of subjects, all interesting, but our limited space 
 forbids our reference to but few. The quality, how- 
 ever, of "his riper thoughts," as contrasted with 
 those of "the unriper times of his youth," in which, 
 as recalled, he says: "I find the footsteps of my 
 unfurnished mind and of my emptiness and insuffi- 
 
 150 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 ciency," may be guessed by quoting what he says 
 on these few topics selected: 
 
 The Profit of Meditation on Heavenly Blessedness 
 
 "I perceive that it is the object which altereth 
 and elevateth the mind, which will resemble that 
 which it most frequently feedeth on. It is not only 
 useful to our comfort to be much in heaven in 
 believing thoughts; it must animate all our other 
 duties and fortify us against every temptation and 
 sin. The love of the end is the poise or spring which 
 setteth every wheel a-going." 
 
 Increasing Consciousness of Personal Ignorance in 
 Spite of Growing Knowledge 
 "Formerly I knew much less than now, and yet 
 was not half so much acquainted with my ignorance. 
 I had a great delight in the daily new discoveries 
 which I made, and of the hght which shined in upon 
 me, like a man that cometh into a country where he 
 never was before, but I little knew either how 
 imperfectly I understood those very points whose 
 discovery so much delighted me or how many things 
 I yet was a stranger to. I now find far greater 
 darkness in all things, and perceive how very little 
 we know in comparison of that of which we are 
 ignorant. I have, therefore, far meaner thoughts 
 of my own understanding though I know that it is 
 better furnished than it was then." 
 
 Good and Bad Men 
 
 "I now see that good men are not so good as 
 I once thought they were, . . . that nearer 
 
 151 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 approach and fuller trial do make the best appear 
 more weak and faulty than their admirers at a 
 distance think; and I find that few are so bad as 
 either malicious enemies or censorious professors do 
 imagine. In some, indeed, I find that human nature 
 is corrupted into a greater likeness to devils than I 
 once thought; but even in the wicked, usually, there 
 is more for grace to take advantage of than I once 
 believed." 
 
 Church Communion 
 
 "I am not so narrow in my principles of Church 
 communion as once I was. I am not for narrowing 
 the Church more than Christ himself alloweth us 
 nor for robbing him of any of his flock. I can now 
 distinguish between sincerity and profession, and 
 that the profession is credible that is not disproved. 
 . . . I am more sensible of the sin and mischief 
 of using men cruelly in matters of religion, and of 
 pretending men's good and the order of the Church 
 for acts of inhumanity and uncharitableness. Such 
 know not their own infirmity, nor yet the nature of 
 pastoral government, which ought to be paternal 
 and by love; nor do they know the way to win a 
 soul, or to maintain the Church's peace. I do not 
 lay so much stress upon t\e external forms of wor- 
 ship. Judgment and Charity are the cause of it. 
 I cannot be so narrow in my principles of Church 
 communion as many are, that are so much for a 
 liturgy, or so much against it; so much for ceremonies, 
 or so much against them, that they can hold com- 
 munion with no church that is not of their mind and 
 
 152 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 way. ... I cannot be of their opinion, that 
 think God will not accept him that prayeth by the 
 Common Prayer Book; and that such forms are a 
 self -invented worship, which God rejecteth; nor yet 
 can I be of their mind that say the like of extempore 
 praj^ers." 
 
 Differences and Church Divisions of Christians 
 
 "I am more afflicted by the disagreements of 
 Christians than I was; except the case of the infidel 
 world, nothing is so bad and grievous to my thoughts 
 as the case of divided churches; and, therefore, I 
 am more deeply sensible of the sinfulness of those 
 prelates and pastors of churches who are the prin- 
 cipal cause of these divisions. How is the conversion 
 of infidels hindered by them and Christ dishonored! 
 I think most divines do study differences a hundred 
 hours for one hour that ever they study the healing 
 of differences, and that is a shameful disproportion. 
 Do not bend all your wits to find what more may be 
 said against others, and to make the differences as 
 wide as you can, but study as hard to find out men's 
 agreements and to reduce the differences to as narrow 
 a compass as possible. Be as industrious for the 
 peace of the Church among others as if you smarted 
 for it yourself; seek it, and beg it, and follow it, and 
 take no nay. Be sure that you see the true con- 
 troversy, and distinguish all that is merely verbal 
 from that which is material; and that which is about 
 methods and modes and circumstances from that 
 which is about substantial truths; and that which 
 is about the inferior truths, though weighty, from 
 
 153 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS | 
 
 that which is about the essentials of Christianity. 
 Lay the unity of the Church upon nothing but what 
 is essential to the Church. Seek after as much 
 truth and purity and perfection as you can but as \ 
 not necessary to the essence of the church or any ; 
 member of it. Tolerate no error nor sin so far as not 
 to seek the healing of it; but tolerate all error and 
 sin, consistent with Christian faith and charity, so 
 far as not to unchristian and unchurch men for 
 them. . . . Acquaint yourselves with healing j 
 truths and labor to be as skillful in the work of | 
 pacifying and agreeing men as most are in the work | 
 of dividing and disagreeing. The least contested i 
 points are commonly the most weighty." j 
 
 His Zeal for Truth Limited to Fundamentals \ 
 
 "I have lost much of the zeal which I had to ' 
 propagate any truths save the mere fundamentals. 
 When I perceive people to think they know what ] 
 indeed they do not — which is too common — and to 
 dispute those things which they never thoroughly 
 studied, or to expect that I should debate the case 
 with them, as if an hour's talk would serve instead i 
 of an acute understanding and seven years' study, I | 
 have no zeal to make them of my opinion . . . and j 
 am apt to be silent and leave them to themselves." j 
 
 The Blindness to Its Evidence of Opponents to Truth 
 
 "We mistake men's diseases when we think there ; 
 needeth nothing to cure their errors but only to , 
 bring them the evidence of the truth. Alas! there I 
 are many distempers of the mind to be removed ' 
 before men are apt to receive that evidence. In i 
 
 154 j 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 controversies, fierce opposition is the bellows to 
 kindle a resisting zeal, when if they be let alone and 
 their opinions lie awhile despised they usually cool 
 and come again to themselves." 
 
 The Sin of Pride 
 
 "I am much more apprehensive than long ago of 
 the odiousness and danger of the sin of pride, especi- 
 ally in matters spiritual. I think so far as any man 
 is proud, he is king to the devil and utterly a stranger 
 to God and himself. It is a wonder that it should 
 be a possible sin to men that still carry about with 
 them in soul and body such humbling matter as we 
 all do." 
 
 Mutability of Mind 
 
 "I find a great mutability as to the apprehensions 
 and degrees of grace, and consequently find that so 
 mutable a thing as the mind of man would never 
 keep itself if God were not its keeper. When I have 
 been seriously musing upon the reasons of Chris- 
 tianity, with the concurrent evidences methodically 
 placed in their just advantages before my eyes, I 
 am so clear in my belief of the Christian verities that 
 Satan hath little room for a temptation; but some- 
 times when the foresaid evidences have been out of 
 the way, or less upon my thoughts, he hath by 
 surprises amazed me and weakened my faith in the 
 present act." 
 
 Suffering the Lot of the Church 
 
 *'I am more apprehensive that suffering must be 
 the Church's ordinary lot, and true Christians must 
 
 155 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 be self-denying cross-bearers even where there are 
 none but nominal Christians to be the cross-makers ; 
 for ordinarily, God would have vicissitudes of 
 summer and winter, day and night, that the church 
 may grow externally in the summer of prosperity, and 
 internally and radically in the winter of adversity; 
 yet, usually, their night is longer than their day, and 
 that day itself hath its storms and tempests." 
 
 His Chief Solicitude 
 
 "I am more solicitous about my duty to God, and 
 less solicitous about his dealings with me, being 
 assured that he will do all things well and that there 
 is no rest but in the will and goodness of God." 
 
 Conclusion 
 
 "This much of the alterations of my soul since 
 my younger years. . . . What I have recorded 
 hath been especially to perform my vows. I have 
 done it also to prevent the defective performance of 
 this task by overvaluing brethren who were unfitter 
 to do it than myself; and that young Christians may 
 be warned by the mistakes and failings of my unriper 
 times, to learn in patience, live in watchfulness, and 
 not be fierce and proudly confident in their first 
 conceptions; to reverence ripe, experienced age and 
 to beware of taking such for their chief guides as have 
 nothing but immature and inexperienced judgments 
 with fervent affections and free and confident 
 expressions." 
 
 Our quotations from Baxter's last work show that 
 his mind was continually progressive, growing in 
 
 156 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 spiritual insight, and freedom of thought and charity 
 of opinion to the very end. 
 
 "These counsels of moderation," as Dean Stanley 
 calls them, men are slow to hear in times of heated 
 controversy and bitter resentment like those in 
 England during the Civil War and the reigns of the 
 two last of her Stuart kings, but when the sky clears 
 and a serener atmosphere comes, then they are 
 heeded as sane and Christian. They so slowly make 
 their way, because strong prejudices and theological 
 and political rancors are slow to cool, like the lava of 
 a volcano which is warm to the touch and glows with 
 inward fire long after the eruption; but, nevertheless, 
 they prevail at last by their intrinsic reasonableness 
 and persistent power. 
 
 We have an impressive proof of this in the case of 
 Baxter, showing the increasing acceptance of his 
 liberal ideas among all classes of English people. 
 In a public place in Kidderminster, a striking statue 
 was erected and dedicated to the memory of Baxter 
 with appropriate and impressive ceremonies, July 
 28, 1875. On the pedestal of the statue is the 
 following inscription: 
 
 "Between the years 1641 and 1660 
 
 this town was the scene of the labors of 
 
 Richard Baxter 
 
 renowned equally for his Christian learning 
 
 and his pastoral fidehty. 
 
 In a stormy and divided age 
 
 he advocated unity and comprehension 
 
 pointing the way to the Everlasting Rest. 
 
 Churchmen and Non -conformists 
 
 united to raise this Memorial. A. D. 1875." 
 
 157 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Dean Stanley made on tlie occasion a notable 
 address, in which Baxter's character and work were 
 highly eulogized; of which "unity and compre- 
 hension," the things which Baxter had labored so 
 hard to promote among English Christians but 
 apparently in vain, were the key notes. This event, 
 occurring more than two hundred years after the 
 Savoy conference, shows that the character and work 
 of a good man, however much misunderstood and 
 misrepresented during his lifetime, will certainly at 
 length be recognized. Much still remains, to be 
 sure, to be accomplished before his aim will be fully 
 realized. But sooner or later it will be done. The 
 growing spirit of mutual toleration and respect 
 among all Christians presages it; the prayer of Christ 
 for his disciples, "that they all may be one that the 
 world may believe," assures us of it. 
 
 Baxter's writings and words, often and widely 
 quoted, have powerfully wrought for this end. As 
 gems of thought they have enriched our modern 
 literature, and are symbolized by one of nature's 
 wonders. Far to the north, beyond our Great 
 Lakes and the Canada line, there is a ledge of jasper 
 conglomerate, fragments of which torn off by the 
 forces of the Ice Age and carried southward by 
 glacial action are found, scattered all over Ohio, 
 Indiana, Illinois and even beyond the Ohio River, 
 in Kentucky, and the Mississippi, in Iowa. They 
 have been gathered up to adorn public parks and 
 buildings, and to enrich the geological specimens of 
 college museums, have been wrought into tombstones 
 for cemeteries, and into doorsteps to private dwell- 
 
 158 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 ings, all of them reminding the intelligent observer 
 of the distant ledge whence they originally came. 
 This ledge, with its fragments so widely scattered, 
 is typical of the writings of Baxter and his influences. 
 
 In the Court of Judge Jeffries 
 
 In 1685, when seventy years of age, and enfeebled 
 by the ill health and ailments which greatly reduced 
 his strength, "so that I did but live," he says, 
 Baxter was brought to trial before the infamous 
 Lord Chief Justice Jeffries for his "Paraphrase on the 
 New Testament," recently published, which was 
 described in the indictment as "a scandalous and 
 seditious book against the government." The chief 
 charge w^as, that in certain passages indicated, he 
 had reflected on the prelates of the Church of England 
 and so was guilty of sedition. But as no bishops or 
 clergy of the Church of England were named, and the 
 author in this very book had spoken honorably of 
 the bishops of this Church, his counsel truly said 
 that they who had drawn up the information were 
 the libelers in applying to the English prelates the 
 severe things that the book contained against 
 unworthy bishops of the Church of Rome, spoken of 
 in Church history, who "were the plagues of the 
 Church and of the world." 
 
 To this Jeffries said that Baxter was "an enemy 
 to the name and thing, the office and persons of 
 bishops"; and when the prisoner ventured to speak 
 in defense of himself, the Chief Justice interrupted 
 and silenced him with unbridled ferocity and such 
 
 159 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 reviling abuse as this: "Richard, Richard, dost thou 
 think we'll hear thee poison the court? Richard, 
 thou art an old fellow, an old knave; thou hast 
 written books enough to load a cart, every one as 
 full of sedition, I might say treason, as an egg is full 
 of meat," and much more of the same sort. When 
 he ended, he told the jury "that if they believed the 
 accused meant the bishops and clergy of the Church 
 of England in the passages which the information 
 referred to — and he could mean nothing else — they 
 must find him guilty." When the judge had 
 finished his charge, Baxter said to him: "Does your 
 lordship think any jury will pretend to pass a verdict 
 against me upon such a trial?" "I'll warrant you, 
 Mr. Baxter," he replied. The jury fulfilled his 
 expectation: Baxter was sentenced to a heavy fine 
 and imprisonment until this was paid. 
 
 He went to prison and remained in it for two 
 years — when the fine was remitted by the king. 
 While in prison he was cheered by visits from friends ; 
 among whom were some of the most respectable 
 clergy of the Established Church, who deplored the 
 injustice he received. After his release, he con- 
 tinued to live in London, preaching occasionally for 
 his friend Sylvester while his strength permitted. 
 These closing years of his life were full of suffering, 
 but he continued his writing nearly to the end, the 
 productions of his pen showing that the ardor and 
 clearness of his mind were unimpaired. A friend 
 speaking of the good many had received from his 
 writings, he replied: "I was but a pen in God's 
 hands; what praise is due to a pen?" Cotton 
 
 160 
 
RICHARD BAXTER 
 
 Mather, of New England, visited him the day before 
 he died, and speaking some comforting words to 
 him, he repKed: "I have pain, there is no arguing 
 against sense, but I have peace, I have peace." 
 
 He died, December 8, 1691, in London, in the 
 reign of William and Mary, surrounded by attached 
 friends and reverenced by the better portion of the 
 religious world. When life was almost gone, he was 
 asked by one of these friends how he did. "Almost 
 well," was his significant reply, in anticipation of 
 the fulfillment of his hope, that "after the rough 
 tempestuous day we shall at last have the quiet 
 silent night — light and rest together — the quietness 
 of the night without its darkness." 
 
 11 161 
 
V 
 
 BOSSUET 
 
V 
 
 BOSSUET 
 
 1627-1705 
 
 Adorning the four sides of the imposing fountain 
 in the public square before the Church of St. Sulpice, 
 Paris, are four sitting statues of heroic size. They 
 represent four great French preachers, Bossuet, 
 Flechier, Fenelon, and Massillon, the fame of whose 
 eloquence, as it was most signally displayed in Paris, 
 the city now cherishes as an important part of her 
 civic glory. Of these interesting figures with their 
 noble faces, that of Bossuet is fittingly reckoned the 
 most striking, as he was the most distinguished of the 
 four in life for his pulpit eloquence. He was the 
 greatest, indeed, of all the illustrious preachers that 
 adorned the reign of Louis XIV. and made it the 
 Golden Age of the French pulpit. A study of his 
 life is interesting and instructive as revealing the 
 method by which a great preacher may be said to 
 have made himself. We have found a delightful 
 guide to such study in M. Eug. Gandar, the author 
 of an elaborate French work entitled "Bossuet 
 Orateur; Etudes Critiques sur les Sermons,"* a 
 work crowned with honor by the French Academy. 
 
 As shown by this interesting work, Bossuet be- 
 came the great preacher he was, not by any easy 
 
 * Paris, Errin et Cie, 1888. 
 
 165 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 development of his powers, but by a course of strenu- 
 ous toil, and studious, intelligent self -discipline. 
 Endowed by nature with a remarkable genius, 
 horn an orator if any man ever was, he combined 
 with his native genius and its rare capabilities an 
 industry quite as remarkable, so that he illustrated 
 in his person the saying, "Great genius is an infinite 
 capacity for hard work." He early revealed his 
 extraordinary gifts. In the Jesuit school of Dijon, 
 his native city, he showed especial aptitude for the 
 ancient classics, the translation of which into modern 
 speech has always proved an .excellent discipline 
 for the development of the power of ready, precise 
 and copious expression of thought. He was dedi- 
 cated by his parents to the ministry. St. Bernard 
 of Clairvaux was born in the same province, in the 
 neighborhood of Dijon, and was constantly held up 
 to him, in the conversations about the home fireside, 
 as a model of piety and eloquence. To complete 
 his preparatory course for the ministry, Bossuet 
 was sent to Paris, at the age of fifteen, to the famous 
 College of Navarre. Its headmaster at that time 
 was Nicolas Cornet, whose virtues and skill as a 
 teacher were thus gratefuly acknowledged by Bos- 
 suet in the funeral oration he pronounced in his 
 honor: "I, who found in this man, with many other 
 rare qualities, an inexhaustible treasure of sage 
 counsel, faithfulness, sincerity, and constant, un- 
 failing friendship, cannot refuse to him here some 
 tribute of a mind which in its early youth he cul- 
 tivated with a fatherly kindness." Under the stimu- 
 lating influence of this wise teacher he achieved 
 
 166 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 distinction in every line of study except mathe- 
 matics, for which he thought he had no faculty. 
 
 His brilhant achievements in the College soon 
 became noised through the city, especially his elo- 
 quent religious addresses in the College Chapel, and 
 he was invited to give proof of his eloquence for the 
 edification of the select company that assembled 
 in the salon bleu of the Marquise de Rambouillet. 
 He was brought into their presence and given a 
 subject, having only a few minutes for its considera- 
 tion, but no book. Thus tested, this youth of six- 
 teen extemporized an eloquent sermon, which was 
 prolonged until after midnight; at which one of the 
 wits present said, he "never heard one preach so 
 early and so late.'' 
 
 For a wonder these attentions and flatteries did 
 not turn his head. He remained unspoiled. M. 
 Gandar says, "The progress of years and sober 
 reflection put Bossuet on his guard against the 
 illusions of youth, even when these seemed justified 
 by the flattering eclat of the plaudits given him." 
 The admiration he received assured him that he 
 possessed the natural gifts of an orator; they did not 
 delude him into thinking that he was already a 
 consummate orator. So he labored to make him- 
 self such with unwearied assiduity. 
 
 Of what M. Gandar calls ''les illusions de la 
 jeunesse" by which he meant the conceits common 
 to bright young men, and from which Bossuet was 
 preserved by his sober judgment, or which he soon 
 outgrew with the progress of years, two may well 
 be mentioned. They are, first, that mere fluency, 
 
 167 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 or readiness of speech, such as Bossuet had exhibited 
 at the Hotel de Rambouillet, is enough to make one 
 a successful and effective preacher; and, second, that 
 the resources of an active, inventive mind, independ- 
 ent of any help derivable from intelligent and fruit- 
 ful studies, are adequate to make one a successful 
 preacher. In the progress of years, both of these 
 conceits are likely to be taken out of a man: they 
 must be, indeed, if he achieves any success. In the 
 case of some, however, the correction comes late — 
 too late to retrieve the mischief of their early 
 foolishness. 
 
 Of the first of these mistakes — the overvaluation 
 of fluency — it is so common and disastrous that 
 fluency has come to be regarded by intelligent people 
 as a "fatal gift." It is "fatal," because apt to 
 incline its possessor to trust unduly to it, to the neg- 
 lect of the careful thought and thorough study 
 indispensable to successful public speaking. It is 
 fatal to the lawyer and legislator as well as the 
 preacher. Lord Chief Justice Russell, of England, 
 in a recent address to a society of law-students in 
 London, is reported to have spoken of this faculty 
 of ready speech somewhat as follows: "It was his 
 opinion that facility of speech is liable to degenerate 
 into glibness of speech, and, judging from his own 
 experience, the man who speaks glibly does not, as 
 a rule, speak impressively or instructively. In the 
 flood of his eloquence there is usually a dearth of 
 ideas. What is wanted is not words, words, but 
 thoughts, thoughts, thoughts." Bossuet had the 
 good sense early to perceive this danger and to labor 
 
 168 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 diligently to improve his preaching in the essen- 
 tials of thoughtfulness and adaptation to the spirit- 
 ual needs of men. Four things were paramount 
 in his conception of what is demanded of the good 
 preacher, which things were more and more marked 
 in his preaching. They were right thoughts, right 
 words, right feelings — feelings in entire sympathy 
 with the truth uttered — and untrammeled freedom 
 in the delivery of this truth. The thoughts which 
 he deemed most "right" or appropriate for the 
 preacher's sermons, were the great, necessary truths 
 of religion. "Speak to me of necessary truths," 
 he said on his deathbed. These truths he loved 
 with increasing ardor, and labored to make attrac- 
 tive. "He is under the charm of the truth he 
 declares," says M. Gandar, "and he thinks it so 
 beautiful that none can tire of hearing it, as he could 
 not tire of speaking of it." This feeling sometimes, 
 in the early years of his preaching, betrayed him into 
 prolixity. 
 
 With these ideas and sentiments, more or less 
 clearly defined, Bossuet entered upon his work. At 
 Metz he began, spending six years in that provin- 
 cial city — years of hard study and the diligent per- 
 formance of the various duties of his sacred calling. 
 He spoke of them afterward as the years of his ap- 
 prenticeship, in which he laid the foundations of his 
 ministerial success. There he found that "season 
 of truce" between the educating discipline of 
 school and the exacting business of the world, in 
 which the power of thought freely develops and 
 ripens. 
 
 169 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 It is by a curious incident in French history that 
 the knowledge of those studies and ideas, by which 
 he fashioned himself, is furnished us by Bossuet. 
 When at the height of his fame, the Abbe d'Albret, 
 the nephew of Marshal Turenne, the great French 
 general, was created Cardinal de Bouillon at the 
 age of twenty -six. The event provoked consider- 
 able criticism, about the French court and in the 
 church, so that the young Cardinal felt it important, 
 if possible, to show the world that the victories of 
 his great uncle and his public profession of the Cath- 
 olic faith were not the nephew's only titles to his 
 promotion. The pulpit offered him an obvious but 
 perilous means of vindication. Diffident, however, 
 of his ability to shine in the pulpit, he sought 
 instruction from Bossuet as to "the studies indis- 
 pensable" for making a great preacher. Bossuet, 
 a devoted friend of the young Cardinal's family, 
 wrote out the instruction desired. It covers but 
 a few pages, "written without a pause of his pen," 
 and "with no time to revise them"; but these pages 
 are justly esteemed "precious" by M. Gandar. 
 Their interest is chiefly autobiographic. The direc- 
 tions they contain are recollections of the method 
 Bossuet himself had used. The essential things, he 
 says in substance, are "ample knowledge, such as 
 comes from the thoroughgoing habit of exploring 
 subjects to the bottom, that one may have plenty 
 to say; and piety." "Fullness of mind gives fer- 
 tility of mind, and fertility of mind insures a pleas- 
 ing variety." 
 
 First in importance for the replenishment of the 
 
 170 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 mind is the knowledge of the Scriptures. In study- 
 ing these, he should not spend much time over ob- 
 scure passages and difficult texts, nor in turning 
 the pages of commentaries to find out their explana- 
 tion. He must not expect to know everything in the 
 Bible, for this is a book of which one could never 
 know everything. He should ascertain what is clear 
 and most certain, SLudfill his mind with the substance 
 of the sacred books, with the primary purpose of 
 nourishing his own piety. 
 
 For the further replenishment of his mind the 
 Cardinal should study the Church Fathers. Not 
 content with giving a general direction, Bossuet 
 speaks of the Fathers individually, and of the par- 
 ticular benefits to be gained from each. St. Cyprian 
 would teach him the art of handling the Scriptures 
 so as to clothe himself with their divine authority. 
 Tertullian, in whom he himself had found a con- 
 genial spirit, "would give him many striking sen- 
 tences," Augustine would explain the doctrine of 
 Christianity: "Sa theologie est admirable; il Sieve 
 r esprit aux grandes et subtiles considerations.''' Chrys- 
 ostom would afford him "excellent models of sim- 
 ple eloquence adapted to the common people and 
 well fitted to instruct and move them." Lest the 
 amount of reading thus marked out for the indolent 
 young Cardinal should appall him, Bossuet tells him 
 it is not so long and difficult a task as might appear. 
 "It is incredible," he said, "how much may be ac- 
 complished, provided one is willing to give some time 
 to the effort^ and to follow it up a little.'' 
 
 In this brief outline of study ''pour former un 
 
 171 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 orateur'' Bossuet gave a transcript from his own 
 experience during those years of his early manhood at 
 Metz. He was a constant, dihgent student of the 
 Bible, so that Lamartine says, "in Bossuet the Bible 
 was transfused into a man." Thence he derived 
 that ''accent of authority" which characterized his 
 preaching. "We must not seek the explanation of 
 this," says M. Gandar, "in the imperious bent of 
 his mind." If he sometimes has an oracular tone, 
 it is because he presents to his hearers, as he says and 
 believes, "wne doctrine toute Chretienne, toute prise 
 des Livres Saints et des Ecritures apostolique,'' ''sim- 
 ple et naive exposition des maximes de FEvangile.'' It 
 is not himself whom he calls upon them to believe. 
 "Listen," he says, "it is the Saviour who speaks; 
 it is a question of heeding His word." 
 
 In regard to his diligent study of the Fathers of the 
 Church, evidence of it is found in his sermons and 
 funeral orations as well as in his explicit declaration, 
 that at Metz he read the most of the Fathers. The 
 fabric of his discourses is shot through, as with 
 threads of silver and gold, with the thoughts and 
 sayings of the Fathers. He relies upon their sup- 
 port, he breathes their spirit, he uses their expres- 
 sions: he imitates them, cites them, paraphrases 
 them. 
 
 The Bible and the Church Fathers thus formed, 
 so to speak, his solid diet. He had also for a lighter 
 diet the writings of Corneille, whom he admired 
 "for his force and vehemence"; the Letters of Jean 
 Balzac, who had "enriched" the French tongue with 
 "beautiful sayings and noble phrases," and from 
 
 172 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 whom he "obtained some idea of a fine and delicately 
 turned style"; and the works of Tacitus in the 
 French version of d'Ablancourt, which he liked 
 because he found there "examples of the sublime and 
 the grand," which "ought to be," he thought, "the 
 style of the pulpit." To this style, it may be said, 
 his natural bent inclined him as well as his studies and 
 the fashion of the time. Indeed, his early pulpit 
 style exhibits the faults of occasional grandiloquence 
 and pompous amplitude. He had not learned, as 
 he came to learn later, the value of self-restraint, the 
 force of condensed expression, the merit of not saying 
 too much; in short, that, in writing and speaking, 
 half oftentimes is more than the whole. 
 
 But with these faults there were associated extra- 
 ordinary gifts and abilities. He had a pleasing and 
 sonorous voice that easily filled the largest cathedral. 
 He had a heart responsive to the truth he uttered, 
 and vitalizing it with genuine emotion. He thus had 
 the ability of investing the trite themes of religion 
 with fresh interest, "infusing," as Dean Church 
 says, "a sense of serious reality into the common- 
 places of the pulpit." Lastly, he had the power 
 of unfettered freedom in the pulpit. Though he 
 wrote out his sermons at the first and continued to 
 do this for nearly twenty years, until he reached the 
 meridian of his fame as a preacher, he did not 
 attempt to commit to memory what he had written, 
 and require of himself verbal exactness in its deliv- 
 ery. Such bondage would have hampered him, he 
 said, and quenched the fire and force and freedom of 
 his utterance. He wrote beforehand for the same 
 
 173 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 reasons that Alexander Hamilton and Daniel Web- 
 ster wrote their famous pleas, to sift and clarify 
 his thoughts, to determine their arrangement for 
 the best effect, and to shape their expression with 
 suflScient definiteness to save him from uncertainty 
 and hesitation in speaking. Having done this, he 
 trusted himself to his powers of utterance under the 
 impulse of his heart, as inspired and quickened at the 
 moment by the truth. He thus secured in preaching 
 choiceness and strength of thought, felicity of lan- 
 guage, and the power of easy, sustained flight which 
 caused him later to be called "the Eagle." 
 
 With such qualifications, natural and acquired, 
 Bossuet soon gained at Metz a great reputation. 
 The people of the city thronged to hear him; strang- 
 ers passing through were told about him, and 
 attended upon his preaching as the chief attraction 
 of the town. 
 
 One of the remarkable things about the sermons of 
 those early years is that they contained striking 
 thoughts and passages like those found in the best 
 sermons of his later days. The same fact has been 
 noted in the lives of other great preachers. Dr. 
 Brown, in his recently published Yale Lectures upon 
 "Puritan Preaching in England," says of Dr. 
 Alexander Maclaren, of Manchester, that "the sur- 
 vivors of his Southampton congregation [to which 
 he ministered in his young manhood], while will- 
 ing to admit that he is more forceful and more 
 cultured in the 'nineties than in the 'fifties, still 
 contend that he has never reached higher levels 
 than he frequently did in the days when he was 
 
 174 
 
k 
 
 BOSSUET 
 
 their minister." A similar declaration is made by 
 M. Gandar concerning Bossuet's early preaching 
 at Metz. "Bossuet," he says, *'will be, some day, 
 more self-contained, more even and chastened in 
 his style, but he will never speak in a more elevated 
 and impressive fashion. There is in the best parts 
 of the Panegyric of St. Bernard [one of his dis- 
 courses at Metz], the same indescribable charm 
 which we shall find later in the sermons preached at 
 the Louvre and in the 'Funeral Orations.'" 
 
 Such examples suggest that a young preacher of 
 promise is somewhat like a young song-bird — a 
 wood thrush, for instance — which, though its song 
 has not the full strength, sustaining power, and 
 superb quality of the song of the mature bird, sings 
 nevertheless the same song essentially, though in a 
 feebler key, and affords a similar delight to those that 
 hear it. 
 
 Perhaps all preachers of promise manifest these 
 tokens of excellence in the early years of their minis- 
 try. In the first five or six years of their preaching, 
 generally, you will find clear intimations of their 
 best thought and pulpit power. But many lack 
 what Dr. Bushnell calls "the talent of growth"; 
 or, having it, they do not stimulate it. They do not 
 grow in pulpit power; they do not possess an insati- 
 able desire to do so, or put forth unwearied efforts 
 to realize this desire; they quickly reach their limit 
 of improvement, and after a short period of moderate 
 success exhibit a gradual declension of preaching 
 power. 
 
 Bossuet had "the talent of growth" to a remark- 
 
 175 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 able degree. He was also both ambitious of excel- 
 lence and willing to pay the full price for it. His 
 was a good example of what an eminent public 
 man of today calls "the strenuous life." He left 
 little to chance; he was resolute of purpose to im- 
 prove himself to the utmost; he sets before us the 
 example of "a man who could easily win admira- 
 tion by the mere exercise of his natural gifts, but 
 who for forty years never ceased toiling to satisfy 
 his high ideal of excellence and make himself more 
 perfect." 
 
 Two means of self -improvement employed by him 
 at this stage, and which had a marked influence upon 
 him, here demand our attention. They were: (1) 
 the study of the best living models of pulpit elo- 
 quence, and (2) the writings of Pascal. 
 
 After four or five years of uninterrupted labor 
 in Metz, he made a visit to Paris, and remained 
 there about a year and a half, excepting the time 
 required for a short visit to Dijon, his native city, 
 and two or three flying visits to Metz, demanded by 
 the duties of his position there. His purpose in 
 going to Paris was to hear and to be heard: to hear 
 the renowned preachers of the metropolis, that "his 
 eyes might be opened to his own defects"; that he 
 might learn to speak both "to the level of his audi- 
 ence, and to the height of his subject," and that he 
 might clear his pulpit style of dryness, tautology, 
 and all antiquated phrases and provincialisms: and 
 to be heard by "audiences accustomed to hear the 
 best preachers," that he might encounter the 
 criticism of their standard of judgment. 
 
 176 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 Among the distinguished preachers whom he 
 heard, four are specially mentioned by M. Gandar: 
 Senault, Superior of the Oratory in the Faubourg St. 
 Jacques ; Leboux, who had the honor of being selected 
 by the Queen Mother to preach two successive ser- 
 ies of sermons at the palace of the Louvre before the 
 young king and the court; Godeau, whose preaching 
 is described as marked by "seriousness," "unction," 
 and "an indescribable charm," which reminded his 
 hearers of the graces of St. Francis de Sales, or gave 
 them a foretaste of the "sweetness of Fenelon"; 
 and Claude de Lingendes, the Jesuit, "an almost 
 perfect orator, condensed, earnest, sometimes pa- 
 thetic and even terrible, whose hearers were seen to 
 rise from their seats with a pale face and downcast 
 eyes, and depart from the church without speaking 
 a word, greatly moved and thoughtful." 
 
 The hearing of these preachers produced a salutary 
 change in Bossuet's preaching. His style became 
 more studied and even, his periods more symmet- 
 rical and marked by sustained dignity of language. 
 His models were not less anxious to speak properly 
 than to think truly, and they did not separate from 
 a scrupulous attachment to the truth the fear of 
 wounding the tongue, the ear — the proprieties. In 
 imitating these models, however, he encountered 
 the same danger that his studies of Corneille and 
 Balzac and Tacitus had before exposed him to — the 
 danger of being stilted, of losing his simplicity and 
 naturalness, of becoming unreal, of filling with clouds 
 and emptiness those heights where he affected to 
 move. 
 
 12 177 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 From this danger he was saved by the influence of 
 Pascal, whose "Provincial Letters" opportunely- 
 appeared, and became the talk of the town at the 
 very time of Bossuet's visit to Paris. This famous 
 work, which marks an epoch in French literature, 
 gave a new and better model of prose to the French 
 language, as well as a new and purer standard of 
 morals to the Catholic Church. Pascal corrected 
 the false taste of the time by commending to general 
 acceptance the following sound principles of rhetoric : 
 that the repetition of a word or phrase, if necessary 
 to the clear meaning or force of a sentence, is not to 
 be condemned; that useless antitheses for the sake 
 of symmetry are, like "false windows," absurd; that 
 euphuisms, "to mask nature," or "to make great 
 what is little or little what is great," are to be avoided; 
 that a conventional eloquence is not true eloquence; 
 that a continuous eloquence soon becomes wearisome; 
 that he who expresses himself naturally is likely to 
 be listened to with less effort and more pleasure; 
 that one should do honor to the word: but only that the 
 word may do honor to the thought.'' 
 
 Bossuet, then thirty years of age, readily came 
 under the influence of this "peerless writer," as 
 Mme. Sevigne calls him. This influence is shown, 
 not in any sudden and entire alteration of his natural 
 tendency to majesty {majeste romaine, as M. Gan- 
 dar calls it), but in the fact that he afterwards 
 exhibited a more chastened taste, and had ''the 
 grand art of not saying too much,'' combined with the 
 power of coining felicitous words and phrases that 
 stuck in the memory. The influence of Pascal is 
 
 178 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 visible in the manuscripts of Bossuet, as seen in the 
 way he worked over and reshaped the thoughts and 
 passages found in the sermons of his early years which 
 he thought worthy of being used again in his later 
 sermons. While he preserves the ideas and much of 
 the old language, he prunes it without mercy, "bring- 
 ing," Dean Church says,* "what was a diffuse and 
 florid piece of amplification into the compass of a 
 few, nervous, compact sentences, where every word 
 tells." 
 
 Were these ceaseless efforts to perfect his pulpit- 
 style commendable? We think so. A good style 
 is like the feather that wings the archer's shaft. 
 The better the style that conveys the truth, the more 
 surely it is carried home to the mark. The aim of 
 the preacher is to arrest attention, to impress the 
 mind, to lodge the truth in the memory and heart, 
 so that it may, by its natural operation, purify the 
 heart and change the life. A good pulpit style, 
 including action as well as words, assists this aim. 
 To the degree that it sends the truth home, so that 
 it possesses the mind with haunting and inspiring 
 power through the action and words that drive it in, 
 will be the preacher's power. The whole past his- 
 tory of the pulpit proves this. The examples of the 
 great preachers illustrate the fact. This consum- 
 mate power imparted by a rare style to the preacher's 
 eloquence, and derived by Bossuet from his study of 
 Pascal, was revealed after his return from Paris. 
 
 His return was hastened by the arrival in Metz, 
 a fortnight before, of the Queen Mother, Anne of 
 
 *See Occasional Papers, 2 vol.; vol. i:i4. London, MacMillan & Co., 1897. 
 
 179 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Austria, with the young king and court. The Queen 
 Mother, who is represented in the annals of the time 
 as occupied with acts of charity and devotion, and as 
 eager to hear all preachers of renown, desired to 
 hear the young preacher whose eloquence was the 
 pride of the city, and had recently won applause 
 even in the capital where he had preached. At any 
 rate, a few days after his return, he preached (at her 
 request), before herself and the royal court, a 
 panegyric of St. Theresa. It marks an epoch in his 
 pulpit career because of its surpassing merits, and 
 indicates the "beginning of his maturity." "There 
 were sagacious people in the brilliant assembly that 
 heard it, who confidently predicted that such elo- 
 quence would some day produce a great noise in the 
 church." 
 
 The fame, thus foretold, came two years later, 
 when Bossuet was called to Paris to preach the Lenten 
 sermons at the Louvre. For the following ten 
 years, from 1660 to 1670, he was in constant request 
 in Paris for Lenten sermons, Advent sermons and 
 French orations. The audiences that gathered to 
 hear him were composed of all classes and conditions 
 of men. "Court and city flocked to listen; the 
 queens went from the palace, and the nuns of Port 
 Royal from their seclusion; Conde, Turenne, 
 Madame de Sevigne, and other famous contempo- 
 raries." Scholars, nobles, sages — the elite of society 
 — mingled with the crowd. Never was the fascina- 
 tion which eloquence has for all classes of mankind 
 more signally displayed; never was the indescribable 
 witchery of eloquent speech more truly exercised by 
 
 180 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 human lips. For the hour, while sitting before him, 
 those hearers sat entranced; they were almost 
 literally spellbound. 
 
 Those were the years of his meridian splendor as a 
 preacher; the years when his sermons were richest 
 in thought, in wealth of knowledge and sentiment, 
 in suggestive and picturesque language. At the 
 close of the Careme (Lenten sermons) given at the 
 Louvre in 1662, the King himself expressed his 
 enthusiasm by sending a personal message to Bos- 
 suet's father, to felicitate him for having such a son. 
 
 But in the funeral orations over Henrietta Maria, 
 Queen of England, her daughter, the Duchess of 
 Orleans, and the great Conde, Bossuet displayed 
 the most remarkable powers — powers of thought and 
 spiritual discernment, and powers of a varied, exqui- 
 site style : the power of swift, condensed narrative, 
 which places before us the substance of a long chap- 
 ter or volume in a few sentences, as in the descrip- 
 tion of Conde's victorious leadership at the battle 
 of Rocroi; and the power of epigrammatic as well as 
 pathetic expression, which enabled him, by the use 
 of a few simple words, to thrill and lift his hearers 
 to sublimest heights of feeling, or to move them to 
 irrepressible tears, as they hung upon his lips. 
 
 Take, for example, his account of the birth, child- 
 hood, and development to a beautiful womanhood, 
 and of the sudden death of Henrietta, the Duchess 
 of Orleans, daughter of Charles L, King of England. 
 
 "This princess, born near a throne, had a mind and heart 
 superior to her birth. The misfortunes of her family could not 
 crush her in her early youth, and from that time on she exhibited 
 
 181 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 a grandeur which owed nothing to fortune. We say with joy- 
 that heaven plucked her from the hands of the enemies of her 
 royal father, to give her to France. Precious, inestimable gift — 
 if only it had been made more lasting ! . . . Alas ! we can- 
 not dwell a moment upon the glory of this princess without hav- 
 ing death come straightway to darken everything with his 
 shadow ! O death, withdraw from our thought, and suffer us to be 
 beguiled, for a little while, of our grief by the remembrance of 
 our joy! Recall now, sirs, the admiration this English princess 
 inspired in all the court. Your memory will portray her better, 
 with all her traits and incomparable loveliness, than my words 
 could ever do. She grew up amid the benedictions of all classes, 
 and the years ceased not to bring to her new graces. . . . 
 
 "Nevertheless, neither the esteem she inspired nor all her 
 great advantages affected her modesty. . . . Men spoke 
 with rapture of the goodness of this princess who, in spite of 
 the cliques and parties common to courts, won all hearts. 
 She exhibited incredible tact in treating the most delicate 
 matters, in removing hidden suspicions, in terminating all 
 difficulties in such a manner as to conciliate the most opposite 
 interests." 
 
 "Irremediable sorrow! that the subject of such just admira- 
 tion should become the subject of boundless regret! . . . O 
 woeful night, in which, on a sudden, resounded, like a clap of 
 thunder, that astonishing news, 'Madame is dying! Madame is 
 dead!' . . . And there, in spite of that great heart, is this 
 princess, so admired and so beloved, — there as death has made 
 her for us!" 
 
 It is only a faint conception of the beauty and 
 pathos of the original that our poor translation can 
 give. Of the original only is the remark of Guizot 
 true, "Bossuet alone could speak like that." If we 
 have conveyed, however, a hint of the style of this 
 matchless orator, or, by what we have said of it, may 
 lead some of our readers to seek out the original, 
 and peruse it for themselves, it will be enough. 
 
 182 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 This masterpiece of commemorative eloquence, 
 given in August, 1670, marks the culminating point 
 in Bossuet's career as a preacher. For more than 
 thirty years subsequently he continued to exercise 
 his great gifts and attainments in the pulpit. He 
 was the leader of the Church of France in his time — 
 more potent in its affairs than the Pope himself. 
 To the end of his life he continued to be a student 
 and a learner, taking up the study of Hebrew in his 
 later years, and achieving a laudable scholarship 
 in it, that he might be a better interpreter of the 
 Bible. His vigor and vitality seemed to be unfailing; 
 so that when, at length, he died, men were aston- 
 ished, it is said, at "this mortal's mortality." 
 
 Our purpose has been, not to give a panSgyrique 
 upon Bossuet, but an etude — a study of him as a 
 pulpit orator, and of the methods by which he made 
 himself such. His character was by no means 
 faultless, nor his life blameless. His treatment of 
 Mme. Guyon was harsh; of Fenelon, ungenerous. 
 In his discussions with Protestants he was not quite 
 fair, and so his polemic triumphs were delusive. The 
 truth cannot be determined by fallacious arguments 
 nor settled by the plaudits of admirers. Nothing 
 is settled until it is settled aright. The questions in 
 controversy will recur until the demands of truth 
 and justice are met. Bossuet also rests under the 
 stigma of having approved the Revocation of the 
 Edict of Nantes, and for that cruel act, by which 
 Louis XIV. dispeopled his kingdom of his choicest 
 subjects, and drove fifteen hundred thousands of 
 them into exile, despair, or falsehood, Bossuet lauded 
 
 188 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 him for "piety," and placed Louis "among the peers 
 of Const antine and Theodosius." These are great 
 blemishes upon Bossuet's good name; but they are 
 faults to which good men are liable in an intolerant 
 age. Luther, whom Bossuet resembled in several 
 respects, was dishonored by them. Guizot, a 
 staunch Protestant, characterizes Bossuet, however, 
 as, for his time, "moderate and prudent in conduct 
 as well as opinions," though his moderation "did 
 not keep out injustice." On the whole our study 
 of Bossuet has led us to accept as just the estimate 
 of M. Gandar. He says: "In trying to account 
 for the admiration of his genius, I have learned to 
 honor Bossuet's character. While not daring to 
 say that Fenelon thought of him, when he defined 
 an orator as one *gm ne se sert de la "parole que pour 
 la pensee et de la pensee que pour la verite et la vertu,' 
 assuredly Bossuet fulfilled this idea in his best 
 preaching, as in his Car erne du Louvre." 
 
 In conclusion : An interesting question of supreme 
 importance is here pressed upon our attention as 
 worthy of consideration. How did it happen that the 
 "Golden Age of the French Pulpit," in which Bos- 
 suet, Fenelon, Bourdaloue, and Massillon preached 
 with such remarkable eloquence, remained, in spite 
 of their preaching, notoriously wicked, dissolute 
 and godless? Why were there no spiritual or moral 
 results worthy of such pulpit fame.^ Those great 
 preachers ought to have wrought, one naturally 
 thinks, a great reformation in morals, and a great 
 improvement in the religious tone and character 
 of French society. But this natural expectation 
 
 184 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 was not realized. Compared with the preaching 
 of Baxter and other Puritan divines, or with the 
 preaching of Whitefield and the Wesleys, the preach- 
 ing of Bossuet and his illustrious contemporaries 
 of the French pulpit was barren and fruitless. Its 
 unfruitfulness does not seem to us entirely due, or 
 mainly due, to the difference in doctrine, or because 
 the doctrine of the French preachers was Catholic 
 and that of the English preachers, Protestant, 
 though this probably would be taken into account 
 by some. We believe that in spite of the errors, 
 from a Protestant standpoint, of the French Roman 
 Catholicism of that day, it contained Christian truth 
 enough if heeded, to convert men from their sin 
 and develop in them genuine piety and beautiful 
 Christian characters. The holy lives and the 
 Christian characters of Fenelon, De Saci, Arnauld, 
 "Mother" Angelica, and other famous Post Royal- 
 ists prove this. 
 
 The reason why the preaching of those great 
 pulpit orators was so barren of good fruit was due, 
 we think, to the artificial and frivolous character 
 of their age joined to the corrupting influence of 
 the French king and his court. Affectation and 
 vain display, insincerity and religious hypocrisy were 
 found everywhere, in the court, in the army, in the 
 salons, and even in the assemblies of public worship. 
 Life was like a theatrical performance. It lacked 
 the ring of sincerity and reality; it was not taken 
 seriously. Genuineness of action or speech was rare. 
 This characteristic of the times made the French 
 people, in Paris especially, and in the social atmos- 
 
 185 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 phere of the court at Versailles and elsewhere, not 
 ashamed to amuse themselves with sacred things, 
 ready to entertain themselves with the preaching 
 of a precocious youth in the salons of the fashionable 
 quarter, and with the eloquent sermons of the great 
 preachers in the chapels of the palaces, and in the 
 churches and cathedrals of the city. The preachers 
 could not but feel the demoralizing influence of 
 this wide-spread atmosphere of insincerity. Aware 
 of the seductive influence of flattery, and of the ad- 
 miration and applause of the great, they really 
 tried to resist it, but in spite of all they could do, 
 it dulled the edge and diminished the power of their 
 preaching. Their earnest and sincere endeavors 
 were thus frustrated. 
 
 The preaching of the pulpit surely reflects the 
 character and sentiments of the auditory. If the 
 hearers habitually regard it as a fictitious per- 
 formance, they make it so and it degenerates into 
 rhetorical cant. There is a great difference between 
 speaking to an audience, like a prophet with a divine 
 message, and speaking before an audience like an 
 actor for their entertainment. In the one case, the 
 speaking is a genuine message that commands atten- 
 tion, convicts and persuades, and results in appro- 
 priate action; in the other, a make-believe utterance 
 that produces no deep or permanent moral effect. 
 
 The king, Louis XIV, was chiefly to blame for all 
 this. Vain, imperious, worldly-minded, selfish mon- 
 arch that he was, fond of adulation and bent upon the 
 gratification of his lust of power and of sensual 
 pleasure, there was no sincere desire in his heart to 
 
 186 
 
BOSSUET 
 
 hear God's truth or to obey it. His seeming piety 
 was a sham, his apparent interest in the preaching 
 of the gospel by the great preachers of his age only 
 the interest of a playgoer in consummate acting. 
 As with the king, so with his courtiers and the fash- 
 ionable people who thronged the royal chapels and 
 the churches. They too regarded the sermons of 
 the preachers as something like a theatrical per- 
 formance, only a pleasant entertainment. Their 
 eloquent appeals and exhortations might generally 
 be admired for their rhetorical splendor, but few 
 took them seriously to heart. The preachers knew 
 that this would be the case, and they were disheart- 
 ened in their endeavors to have it otherwise. They 
 could not, they finally did not, expect the spiritual 
 results that would have been looked for under differ- 
 ent psychological conditions. Their preaching lacked 
 the notes of earnestness and sincerity that marked 
 the preaching of Bernard of Clairvaux, Luther, and 
 Baxter. It was artificial to a degree that is trace- 
 able in their published sermons, but of which quality 
 there is no trace in these preachers. "I would as 
 soon doubt the gospel's verity," says Coleridge, "as 
 the sincerity of Baxter." Sincerity, the downright 
 sincerity of an earnest soul that speaks from a heart 
 throbbing with emotion its message of salvation, 
 which has been tested in its own experience and been 
 found blessedly true, this must characterize the 
 preacher w^hose ministry of the Gospel is attended 
 with great reformations of religion and morals. 
 It marked the ministries of those great preachers 
 whose characters and careers we have previously 
 
 187 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 sketched; it might have marked that of Bossuet 
 could he have resolutely risen by the assured help 
 and grace of God above the general insincerity of 
 his nation at that time. Failing to do this, succumb- 
 ing weakly to its demoralizing influence, he failed 
 of the highest result, though inferior to none of 
 those preachers in natural gifts and rare accomplish- 
 ments, and the purity of his original aims. 
 
 188 
 
¥1 
 
 JOHN BUNYAN 
 
VI 
 JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 1628-1688 
 
 Among the old English divines of the Anglican 
 Church, there were men of great genius, eloquence, 
 and learning. Such were Richard Hooker, Joseph 
 Hall, Thomas Fuller, and Jeremy Taylor; but Dr. 
 Thomas Arnold says: 'T hold John Bunyan to have 
 been a man of incomparably greater genius than any 
 of them, and to have given a far truer and more 
 edifying picture of Christianity." 
 
 This man of extraordinary genius, however, was 
 born in the humblest class of society and had but 
 few educational advantages. *T never went to 
 school," he says, "to Aristotle and Plato, but was 
 brought up in my father's house in a very mean 
 condition among a company of poor countrymen." 
 Born November 30, 1628, at Elstow, Bedfordshire, 
 into the family of a tinker, "of that rank that is 
 meanest and most despised of all the families in the 
 land," as he says, and brought up by his father to the 
 same calling, the whole extent of his acquisitions 
 from the poor instruction and brief school days given 
 him, was "to read and write according to the rate 
 of other poor men's children." But God plants a 
 great mind where he will, and gives the highest 
 
 191 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 powers of intellectual and moral achievement to 
 people dwelling in the most unequal and diverse 
 conditions. Rome had two illustrious moralists, of 
 about equal eminence, who stood high above all 
 others; one was the slave Epictetus, and the other 
 the Emperor Marcus Aurelius. God made the 
 slave the teacher and peer of the emperor in genius 
 and virtue, to show men that in the bestowal of his 
 highest and best gifts he is no respecter of persons. 
 Bunyan's genius was developed and trained in the 
 school of Providence. It came slowly to maturity, 
 and to the glorious fruitage it finally yielded only 
 by the hard and various discipline of sin and remorse, 
 of a wonderful experience of God's grace, and the 
 vicissitudes of family affliction, a soldier's life, 
 poverty, religious persecution and long imprison- 
 ment for conscience sake, where celestial visions 
 brightened his dreary captivity as with the glory of 
 heaven, and qualified him to write his immortal 
 allegory, "The Pilgrim's Progress," which Thomas 
 Arnold extols for its "edifying picture of Christian- 
 ity," "with none of the rubbish of the theologians 
 mixed up with it." 
 
 Among his lesser writings is an autobiography, 
 which he entitled "Grace Abounding," that is similar 
 in character and the nature of its interest to Augus- 
 tine's "Confessions." This small book, which one 
 could read in three or four hours, might be called, 
 "The history of a benighted soul in its struggles to 
 find the light." The struggles it describes are mainly 
 those of the spirit with sin and doubts and fears. 
 All else that happened in the course of his life he 
 
 192 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 seems to have reckoned of little account. It was 
 the age of Cromwell and the great civil war. He 
 scarcely refers, however, to the stirring events of 
 his age, of which he was a spectator, or in which he 
 was an actor, or a listener to the talk about him. 
 He gives no dates, he mentions only a few localities, 
 he alludes to but few of the exciting things then 
 occurring in the world. He confines his narrative 
 almost entirely to things that had some close relation 
 to his spiritual development. *'Time and place, 
 outward circumstances and passing incidents, were 
 nothing to him, about whom fell alternately the 
 shadows of hell and the splendors of heaven." The 
 estimate of Bunyan, in this personal review of his 
 life, as to what was most important and valuable in 
 his experience, has come to be accepted by the 
 world as its own. The supreme interest of his life 
 is found in the vehement spiritual struggles he has 
 here graphically depicted, and it is particularly 
 instructive as revealing the manner in which the 
 Christian faith lifted him, and may lift any miserable 
 sinful man, out of a wretched condition, and exalt 
 him to a place of honor and happiness. 
 
 Taking up some of the most notable things in this 
 sketch of his past life, it is pleasing to observe that 
 while confessing his humble birth, he speaks respect- 
 fully of his parents and of their willingness to do for 
 his welfare all they could. He is not ashamed of 
 them, or of the social condition he inherited from 
 them. "Though I have naught to boast," he says, 
 "of noble blood, or of a high-born state, according 
 to the flesh, all things considered, I magnify the 
 
 13 193 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 heavenly Majesty that by this door he brought me 
 into this world." 
 
 According to his own account of himself as a boy, 
 youth, and young man, he was a rough, reckless, and 
 most unpromising young fellow: — 
 
 "I had but few equals for cursing, swearing, lying, and blas- 
 pheming the holy name of God." 
 
 "So settled and rooted was I in these things, that they became 
 as a second nature to me. . . ." 
 
 ". . . so that until I came to the state of marriage, I was 
 the very ringleader of all the youth that kept me company, in all 
 manner of vice and ungodliness." 
 
 Naturally his influence upon his companions was 
 very pernicious. "I was one of the great sin- 
 breeders," he says, "the neighbors counted me so, 
 my own practice proved me so." He tells how one 
 day as he 
 
 "was standing at a neighbor's shop-window, and there cursing 
 and swearing and playing the madman, after my wonted manner, 
 there sat within the woman of the house and heard me; who, 
 though she was a very loose and ungodly wretch, yet protested 
 that I cursed and swore at that most fearfid rate that she was 
 made to tremble to hear me; and told me further, that I was the 
 ungodliest fellow for swearing that she ever heard in all her life, 
 and that I by thus doing was able to spoil all the youth in the 
 whole town, if they came but in my company." 
 
 From these passages and others found in his 
 writings in regard to the sins of his youth and early 
 manhood, it might be supposed that he was guilty of 
 nearly all the sins forbidden in the decalogue. But 
 this would be a mistake. When those who wished to 
 discredit him as a preacher and religious writer 
 accused him of unchastity, he replied: — 
 
 194 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 "My foes have missed their mark in this; I am not the man. 
 . . . If all the fornicators and adulterers in England were 
 hanged by the neck till they were dead, John Bunyan, the object 
 of their envy, would be still alive and well." 
 
 Macaulay, Froude and some other writers have 
 expressed the opinion that the sins for which Bunyan 
 so severely condemned himself, were, excepting his 
 shocking profanity, but trivial offenses, like playing 
 ball or "cat" on Sunday, and ringing the church 
 bell on festive occasions, which his morbid conscience 
 magnified into great proofs of wickedness; but 
 faults graver than these seem implied in the words: 
 "Had not a miracle of precious grace prevented, I 
 had not only perished by the stroke of Eternal 
 Justice, but had also laid myself open even to the 
 stroke of those laws which bring some to disgrace 
 and open shame before the face of the world." If 
 sorrow could have sobered and subdued him, its 
 discipline was not lacking. In his sixteenth year, 
 his mother died, and a favorite sister, a month 
 later. Shortly after, he joined the Parliamentary 
 Army, "a finishing school to the hardened sin- 
 ner," he says. He was at the siege of Leicester 
 and probably in the desperately fought battle of 
 Naseby. 
 
 "WTien I was a soldier [he says], I, with others, was dra\\Ti to 
 go to such a place to besiege it; but when I was just ready to 
 go, one of the company desired to go in my room; to which, 
 when I consented, he took my place; and coming to the siege, 
 as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the head with a musket ball, 
 and died. 
 
 "Here were judgments and mercy; but neither of them did 
 awaken my soul to righteousness." 
 
 195 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Going home from the war, he married. The 
 young couple were so poor that they did "not have 
 so much household stuff as a dish or spoon between 
 us both." But his wife brought him, notwithstand- 
 ing, a precious dowry — the memory of a godly father 
 and pious home, and two religious books, *'The Plain 
 Man's Pathway to Heaven" and "The Practice of 
 Piety," which had a wide circulation in those days. 
 These books he read with his wife, and they made a 
 deep impression on his mind. Their influence, 
 joined to that of his wife, produced in him a notable 
 outward reformation, and a show of piety and 
 religious zeal that led him 
 
 "to go to church twice a day, . . . and there very devoutly 
 both say and sing, as others did. ... I adored . . . 
 all things belonging to the church, the high place, priest, clerk, 
 vestment, service and what else." 
 
 ". . . . Then I thought I pleased God as well as any 
 man in England. My neighbors were amazed at this my 
 great conversion, from prodigious profanity, to something like 
 a moral life; and, truly, so they well might be, for this, my con- 
 version, was as great as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober 
 man." 
 
 Nevertheless he says, — 
 
 ". . . as yet I was nothing but a painted hypocrite. 
 . . . I did all I did, either to be seen of, or to be well 
 spoken of by men. . . ." 
 
 ". . . I was all this while ignorant of Jesus Christ; and 
 going about to establish my own righteousness; and had perished 
 therein, had not God in mercy showed me more of my state by 
 nature. " 
 
 Finding in the Scriptures that the Israelites were 
 accounted God's chosen people, he thought: "If I 
 
 196 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 were one of this race, my soul must needs be happy"; 
 and he tried to make out that he was of Hebrew 
 descent, but his father, who had no desire to be 
 thought a Jew, gave such an emphatic negative to 
 his aspirations and inquiries in this direction that 
 he was forced to give them up. 
 
 "But God [he says], the great, the rich, the infinitely merciful 
 God did not take advantage of my so ill to cast me away, but 
 followed me still, and won my heart by giving me some under- 
 standing, not only of my miserable state, w^hich I was very sensi- 
 ble of, but also that there might be hopes of mercy; taking away 
 my love to lust and placing in the room thereof a holy love of 
 religion. Thus the Lord won my heart to some desire to hear 
 the word, to grow a stranger to my old companions, and to ac- 
 company the people of God, giving me many sweet encourage- 
 ments from several promises in the Scriptures." 
 
 Of Bunyan it may be truly said that he was, to a 
 rare degree, a Providential man, *'a chosen vessel," 
 like the apostle Paul, shaped by God for a great 
 work. It is not possible to understand his remark- 
 able character and career, or his vast influence for 
 good as a preacher and writer, except we have this 
 conception of him. This alone can explain the 
 various agencies used by Providence to bring him 
 "out of darkness into his marvelous light," to train 
 and fit him for his appointed mission of teacher of 
 practical Christianity to the world, especially to 
 common people. 
 
 Three of these agencies may be particularized as 
 most prominent and worthy of mention. They were 
 a group of poor women of Bedford, the Bible, and 
 the religious persecution of the Anglican Church in 
 that day, by which he was shut up in prison. 
 
 197 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Of his introduction to those poor women and the 
 good he received from them, Bunyan himself thus 
 tells us: — 
 
 "Upon a day, the good providence of God called me to Bed- 
 ford, to work on my calling; and in one of the streets of that 
 town, I came where there were three or four poor women sitting 
 at a door, in the sun, talking about the things of God; and being 
 now willing to hear their discourse, I drew near to hear what 
 they said, for I was now a brisk talker in the matters of religion; 
 but I may say, / heard, hut understood not; for they were far 
 above, out of my reach. . . . 
 
 "Methought they spake as if joy did make them speak; they 
 spake with such pleasantness of Scripture language, and with 
 such appearance of grace in all they said, that they w^ere to me, 
 as if they had found a new world; as if they v/ere 'people that 
 dwelt alone, and were not to he reckoned among their neighhors.'' 
 
 "When I had heard and considered what they said I left them, 
 and went about my employment again, but their talk and dis- 
 course icent ivith me, . . . for I was greatly affected with 
 their words, both because by them I was convinced that I wanted 
 the true tokens of a truly godly man, and also because by them 
 I was convinced of the happy and blessed condition of him that 
 was such a one. 
 
 "Therefore I would often make it my business to be going 
 again and again into the company of these poor people; for I 
 could not stay away ; and the more I went among them the more 
 I did question my condition: and . . . presently I found 
 two things within me, at which I did sometimes marvel. . . . 
 The one was a very great softness and tenderness of heart, which 
 caused me to fall under the conviction of what by Scripture they 
 asserted; and the other was a great bending in my mind, to a 
 continual meditating upon it, and on all other good things which 
 at any time I heard or read of." 
 
 "About this time the state and happiness of these poor people 
 at Bedford was thus, in a kind of vision, presented to me. I 
 saw as if they were on the sunny side of some high mountain, 
 
 198 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 there refreshing themselves with tlie pleasant beams of the sun, 
 while I was shivering and shrinking in the cold, afflicted with 
 frost, snow, and dark clouds; methought also, betwixt me and 
 them I saw a wall that did compass about this mountain. Now 
 through this wall mj^ soul did greatly desire to pass; concluding 
 that if I could I would even go into the very midst of them, and 
 there also comfort myself with the heat of their sun. 
 
 "About this wall I bethought myself to go again and again, 
 still praying as I went, to see if I could find some way or passage 
 by which I might enter therein; at the last, I saw, as it were, a 
 narrow gap, like a little doorway in the wall, through which I 
 attempted to pass. . . . With great striving, methought I 
 at first did get in my head, and after that by a sidelong striving, 
 my shoulders and my whole body : then I was exceeding glad, 
 went and sat down in the midst of them, and so was comforted 
 with the light and heat of their sun. 
 
 "Now this mountain, and wall, etc., was thus made out to me: 
 The mountain signified the church of the living God; the sun 
 that shone thereon, the comfortable shining of his merciful face 
 on them that were therein; the wall I thought was the world, 
 that did make separation betwixt the Christians and the world, 
 and the gap which was in the wall, I thought, was Jesus Christ, 
 who is the way to God the Father. But forasmuch as the pass- 
 sage was wonderful narrow, even so narrow that I could not but 
 with great difficulty enter in thereat, it shov/ed that none could 
 enter into life but those that were in downright earnest, and 
 unless also they left that wicked world behind them; for here 
 was only room for body and soul, but not for body and soul and 
 sin." 
 
 This passage from the story of his rehgious experi- 
 ence, in '''Grace Abounding," is interesting for several 
 things. It is interesting in itself for the truth it 
 contains; for its illustration of the benefit that a 
 seeker after God may receive from the conversation 
 and society of pious people, no matter how poor and 
 humble; and for the disclosure it makes of Bunyan's 
 
 199 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 native bias and imaginative faculty of translating 
 his religious experiences, of various sorts, into clear 
 and picturesque allegories, attractive and illuminat- 
 ing to the mind and convincing to the heart. We 
 shall have other interesting examples of this. They 
 all go to show by what steps, by what spiritual con- 
 flicts and agony of soul, and by what Providential 
 teaching and discipline the immortal dreamer be- 
 came qualified to write 'The Pilgrim's Progress." 
 In "Grace Abounding" we have the preliminary 
 rehearsal that prepared the way for it. It was 
 based in actual fact, and distressful as are the facts 
 of real life. It was no such stuff as ordinary dreams 
 are made of — the fictions of fancy. Its production 
 was by conditions and processes analogous to those 
 by which a diamond or some other precious gem is 
 produced through the intense heat of internal fires, 
 and the tremendous pressure of the weight of moun- 
 tains. "Those poor people in Bedford, to whom 
 I began to break my mind," he says, told Mr. Gif- 
 ford, their pastor, a dissenting minister, about him, 
 who "took all occasion to talk with me," and "whose 
 doctrine, by God's grace, was much for my stability." 
 Mr. Gifford himself, after leading a wild, wicked, and 
 stormy life, as soldier, gambler, and criminal, had 
 experienced a remarkable conversion, which, com- 
 bined with unusual gifts of mind, gave him skill in 
 the treatment of souls. 
 
 "This man [says Bunyan] made it much his business to deliver 
 the people of God from all those hard and unsound tests that 
 by nature we are prone to. He would bid us take special heed 
 that we took not up any truth upon trust; as from this, or that, 
 
 200 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 or any other man or men, but cry mightily to God that he would 
 convince us of the reaHty thereof, and set us down by his own 
 Spirit in the Holy Word; 'for (said he) if you do otherwise, 
 when temptation comes (if strongly) upon you, you not having 
 received them (the truths of religion) with evidence from heaven, 
 will find you want that help and strength now to resist that once 
 you thought you had.' 
 
 "This [says Bunyan] was as seasonable to my soul as the for- 
 mer and latter rains in their season; for I had found, and that 
 by sad experience, the truth of his words. . . . Wherefore 
 I found my soul, through grace, very apt to drink in this doc- 
 trine, and to incline to praj^ to God, that in nothing that per- 
 tained to God's glory and my own eternal happiness, he would 
 suffer me to be without the confirmation thereof from heaven; 
 for now I saw clearly, there was an exceeding difference betwixt 
 the notion of the flesh and blood, and the revelation of God in 
 heaven; also a great difference betwixt that faith that is feigned, 
 and according to man's wisdom, and that which comes by a 
 man's being born thereto of God. 
 
 "But, oh! now, how was my soul led from truth to truth by 
 God!" 
 
 This leading of his soul "from truth to truth by 
 God," over which he thus exclaims, and which is 
 graphically described by him in "Grace Abounding," 
 has great interest and value for the illustration it 
 gives concerning the help afforded by the Sacred 
 Scriptures, when accepted and firmly believed in as 
 the revelation of God and an infallible authority as 
 to religious truth, in the guidance and confirmation 
 of the soul seeking to know this truth. Led by the 
 influence of "those poor Bedford women" to new 
 diligence in its study, "I began to look into the Bible 
 with new eyes," he says, "and read as I never did 
 before; especially the Epistles of the Apostle Paul 
 were sweet and pleasant to me; and, indeed, then 
 
 201 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 I was never out of the Bible, either by reading or 
 meditation; still crying out to God that I might 
 know the truth and the way to heaven and glory." 
 It is interesting to observe, from his case, how the 
 Bible so studied may light up the way, step by step, 
 of an earnest inquirer until he arrives at a state of 
 peace and settled joy from the happy assurance of 
 God's forgiveness and unchangeable love. 
 
 We give the following two examples, selected from 
 many : — 
 
 "One day as I was walking in the country, I was much in the 
 thoughts of this question, 'But how if the day of grace is past?' 
 And to aggravate my trouble, the tempter presented to my mind 
 those good people of Bedford and suggested to me: that these 
 being converted already they were all that God would save in 
 these parts, and that I came too late. Now I was in great dis- 
 tress thinldng this might well be so; wherefore I went up and 
 down bemoaning my sad condition . . . crying out, 'Oh 
 that I had turned sooner!' When I had been long vexed with 
 this, these words broke in upon my mind, 'Compel them to come 
 in, that my house may be filled; and yet there is room.' 
 
 "Those words, especially these, 'And yet there is room,' were 
 sweet words to me, for I thought bj^ them I saw there was place 
 enough in heaven for me, and, moreover, that when the Lord 
 Jesus did speak these words, he then did think of me; and that 
 he knowing that the time would come that I should be afflicted 
 with fear that there was no place left for me in his bosom, did 
 before speak this word and leave it upon record that I might 
 find help thereby against this temptation." 
 
 Another question that greatly troubled him was, 
 "How can you tell that you are elected?" 
 
 "It may be that you are not, said the tempter; it may be so 
 indeed, thought I. Why then, said Satan, you had as good 
 leave off, and strive no farther. ... By these things I was 
 
 202 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 driven to my wits end, not knowing what to say, or how to an- 
 swer these temptations." 
 
 He obtained relief from his distress, chiefly, from 
 John vi. 37: "And him that cometh to me I will in 
 no wise cast out." 
 
 "This scripture [he says] did most sweetly visit my soul. Oh! 
 the comfort that I had from this word, *in no wise!' As who 
 should say, 'By no means, for nothing whatever he hath done.' 
 But Satan would greatly labor to pull this promise from me, 
 telling me, 'That Christ did not mean me and such as I, but sin- 
 ners of a lower rank that had not done as I had done.' But I 
 would answer him, 'Satan, there is in these words no such excep- 
 tion; but him that comes, him, any him.' If ever Satan and I 
 did strive for any word of God in all my life, it was for this good 
 word of Christ; he at one end, and I at the other. Oh! what 
 work we made! It was for this in John, I say, that we did so 
 tug and strive; he pulled and I pulled; but God be praised! I 
 overcame him! I got sweetness from it." 
 
 Time and space forbid our citing other instances 
 from this interesting chronicle of Bunyan's various 
 experiences. It contains passages of sublime reli- 
 gious sentiment and pathos, and sheds by its vivid 
 pictures of alternating religious despondency and 
 exaltation, of fear and hope, of remorse and ecstatic 
 joy, considerable light upon a subject that is attract- 
 ing much attention in our day — the subject of Psy- 
 chotherapy. It has a psychological as well as 
 religious interest, and, carefully studied, will afford 
 the Christian minister and the physician alite val- 
 uable suggestions as to right methods of dealing 
 with troubled souls. 
 
 Most of Bunyan's prolonged darkness of mind and 
 spiritual distress arose, we think, from his morbid 
 
 203 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 self -consciousness, due in great part to the habit of 
 introspection (practised by religious people to excess 
 in those times), which led him to fix his thoughts on 
 himself and the feelings of his heart for the evidence 
 of acceptance with God, instead of fixing them on 
 Christ and the true evidences of God's grace given in 
 the Scriptures. He had a profound sense of sin and 
 of the estrangement of the heart from God, and he 
 intensified this feeling of sin, and added unnecessary 
 weight to its natural burden of remorse, by reckon- 
 ing as mortal sins the various idle thoughts and 
 strange fancies that flitted through his mind. For 
 instance, Satan suggested to him, he says, — 
 
 "after the Lord had set me down so sweetly in the faith of his 
 holy gospel, and had given me such strong consolation and blessed 
 evidence from heaven touching my interest in his love through 
 Christ, . . . 'to sell and part with this most blessed 
 Christ.' . . . 
 
 "This temptation did put me in such scares, lest I should at 
 some time consent thereto and be overcome therewith,- that by 
 the very force of my mind, in laboring to gainsay and resist this 
 wickedness, my very body would be put into action or motion, 
 by way of pushing or thrusting with my hands or elbows ; still an- 
 swering, as fast as the destroyer said, ' Sell him,' ' I will not, I will 
 not, I wUl not; no, not for thousands, thousands, thousands of 
 worlds'; thus reckoning lest I should, in the midst of these as- 
 saults, set too low a value on him; even until I scarce well knew 
 where I was, or how to be composed again. . . . 
 
 "To be brief: one morning as I did lie in my bed, I was, as at 
 other times, most fiercely assaulted with this temptation, to sell 
 and part with Christ; the wicked suggestion still running in my 
 mind, 'Sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him,' as fast as a man 
 could speak; against which also in my mind, as at other times, I 
 answered, 'No, no, not for thousands, thousands, thousands,' at 
 least twenty times together; but at last, after much striving, 
 
 204 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 even until I was almost out of breath, I felt this thought pass 
 through my heart, 'Let him go, if he will'; and I thought also 
 that I felt my heart freely consent thereto. Oh! the diligence 
 of Satan ! . . . 
 
 ". . . Down fell I, as a bird that is shot from the top of a 
 tree, into great guilt and fearful despair!" 
 
 The "guilt" was a delusion, but his "despair" 
 was real. This passage and others like it suggest 
 that his mind at times was near to insanity. His 
 persistent fear that he had committed the unpardon- 
 able sin, and his imaginary struggles with Satan 
 attempting to mislead his soul and oppose his 
 spiritual good when he tried to pray were like the 
 hallucinations of a crazy man. But he was pre- 
 served from total madness by the soothing influence 
 of God's Word. Its pervading tone of love and its 
 divine wisdom proved an effective antidote. Though 
 he reeled and tottered on the brink, he did not fall 
 over. The outstretched hand of Christ that rescued 
 Peter when sinking beneath the waves was stretched 
 out to him also and upheld him. His dialogues 
 with Satan amuse us, but him they terrified. 
 
 "The tempter [he says] hath come upon me with such dis- 
 couragements as these: 'You are very hot for mercy, but I will 
 cool you; this frame shall not last always; many have been as 
 hot as you for a spirit [of prayer], but I have quenched their zeal' 
 . . . but thought I, I am glad this has come into my mind; 
 well, I will watch, and take what care I can. 'Though you do 
 [said Satan], I shall be too hard for you; I Vvill cool you insensi- 
 bly, by degrees, by Httle and little. What care I, though I be 
 seven years in chilling your heart, if I can do it at last? Con- 
 tinual rocking will lull a crying child asleep; I will ply it close, 
 but I will have my end accomplished. Though you be burning 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 hot at present, I can pull you from this fire; I shall have you 
 cold before it be long. 
 
 These fancied dialogues and struggles with Satan 
 were similar to those of Martin Luther in like cir- 
 cumstances. They were consonant also with the 
 theological ideas of those times and the doctrine of 
 the Reformers in the century preceding. "His 
 [Bunyan's] doctrine," says Froude, "was the doctrine 
 of the best and strongest minds in Europe. It had 
 been believed by Luther, it had been believed by 
 Knox. It was believed at that moment by Oliver 
 Cromwell as by Bunyan." Bunyan may be said 
 to have sat at the feet of Luther, as he himself in 
 effect confessed. Like John Wesley, a century after 
 him, he fell in with Luther's "Commentary on 
 Galatians," and received from it similar spiritual 
 enlightenment and relief. 
 
 "When I had but a little way perused it [he says] I found my 
 condition in his experience so largely and profoundly handled, as 
 if his book had been written out of my heart. He doth most 
 gravely also in that book debate of the rise of these temptations, 
 namely, blasphemy, desperation, and the like, showing that the 
 law of Moses, as well as the devil, . . . hath a very great 
 hand therein; the which, at first, was very strange to me, but 
 considering and watching I found it so indeed. But of particu- 
 lars here I intend nothing, only this methinks I must let fall be- 
 fore all men; I do prefer this book of Martin Luther upon Gala- 
 tians (excepting the holy Bible) before all the books that ever I 
 have seen as most fit for a wounded conscience." 
 
 But thanks to the advice of his pastor, Mr. Gifford 
 (already quoted), his chief reliance was upon the 
 teaching of the Bible. 
 
 206 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 "It would be too long here to stay [he says] to tell in particular 
 how God did set me down in all the things of Christ, and how he 
 did, that he might do so, lead me into his words; yea, and also 
 how he did open them unto me, and make them shine before me, 
 and cause them to dicell with me, talk with me, and comfort me, over 
 and over, both of his own being and the being of his Son, and 
 Spirit, and Word, and Gospel." 
 
 The method, so to speak, of his use of Scripture 
 is thus set forth by him: — 
 
 "I would in these days, often in my greatest agonies, even 
 flounce toicard the promise, as the horses do towards sound ground 
 that yet stick in the mire, concluding, though as one almost bereft 
 of his wits through fear, 'On this will I rest and stay, and leave 
 the fulfilling of it to the God of heaven that made it.' . . . 
 
 "Often when I have been making to the promise, I have seen 
 as if the Lord would refuse my soul for ever: I was often as if I 
 had run upon the pikes, and as if the Lord had thrust at me, to 
 keep me from him as with a flaming sword. Then would I think 
 of Esther, who went to petition the king contrary to the law. 
 . . . The woman of Canaan also, that would not be daunted 
 though called dog by Christ, and the man that went to borrow 
 bread at midnight, were also great encouragements to me. 
 
 "I never saw those heights and depths in grace, and love, and 
 mercy, as I saw after this. Great sins do draw out great grace, 
 and where guilt is most terrible and fierce, there the mercy of 
 God in Christ, when showed to the soul, appears most high, and 
 mighty." 
 
 What the old theologians called the "law work" 
 in religious experience, and which they deemed a 
 necessary and essential precedent to the ''work of 
 grace" in the heart (without which indeed there 
 could be no relief for it from its burden of sin), had 
 the most thorough and complete operation upon 
 Bunyan's soul. Bunyan believed that by reason of 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 this experience he was given not only a wholesome 
 fear of sin that kept him from backsliding, but a 
 power and skill in dealing with troubled souls which 
 greatly enhanced his usefulness as a preacher and 
 pastor. "It was for this reason," he says, "I lay 
 so long at Sinai, to see the fire, and the cloud, and 
 the darkness, that I might fear the Lord all the days 
 of my life upon earth, and tell of all his wondrous 
 works to my children" (in the faith). 
 
 He was ordained to the ministry when he was 
 twenty seven years old. Gradually and with much 
 diffidence he entered upon the work, encouraged 
 thereto by 
 
 "the most able for judgment and holiness of life [who] did per- 
 ceive that God had counted me worthy to understand something 
 of his will in his holy and blessed word, and had given me utter- 
 ance in some measure to express what I saw to others for edifi- 
 cation." "Wherefore, though of myself of all the Saints the 
 most unworthy, yet I, but with great fear and trembling at the 
 sight of my own weakness, did set upon the work"; — "which 
 when the country understood, they came in to hear the word by 
 hundreds, and that from all parts." 
 
 His development as a preacher was rapid and most 
 extraordinary. Of his great eloquence and ability 
 in preaching we have the fullest proof. "No such 
 preacher to the uneducated English masses^," says 
 Froude, the historian, "was to be found within the 
 four seas." "With the thing which these people 
 meant by inspiration he was abundantly supplied." 
 His fame as a preacher was not confined to the 
 limits of Bedfordshire, where most of his ministry 
 was spent: it extended to London, and in London, 
 
 208 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 where he occasionally preached, the attraction of 
 his eloquence drew great crowds to hear him. Mr. 
 Doe, a warm contemporary admirer and citizen of 
 the metropolis, says: "When Mr. Bunyan preached 
 in London, if there w^ere but one day's notice given 
 there would be more people come together to hear 
 him preach than the meetinghouse could hold. I 
 have seen to hear him preach by my computation 
 about 1200 at a morning sermon by 7 o'clock on a 
 working day in the dark winter time. I also com- 
 puted about 3000 that came to hear him one Lord's 
 day in London at a town's end meetinghouse, so 
 that half were fain to go away again for want of 
 room, and then himself was fain at a back door to be 
 pulled almost over people to get up stairs to his 
 pulpit." 
 
 And not only "to the uneducated English masses" 
 was he an acceptable preacher, but to the noble, the 
 learned, the rich, and those of high social station. 
 The learned Dr. John Owen was one of his frequent 
 hearers, embracing eagerly every opportunity to 
 hear him and inviting him to preach to his own select 
 congregation in Moorefields; saying to King Charles 
 11. , who asked him, "how he could go to hear that 
 tinker preach?" that he "would willingly exchange 
 his learning for the ability to preach as well as the 
 tinker." 
 
 It is interesting to know what were the particular 
 personal qualities of Bunyan which gave him this 
 eminence as a preacher, since, were it not for the 
 fact that his fame as an allegorical writer eclipsed 
 his fame as a preacher, he might fairly be regarded 
 
 14 209 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 as one of the most eminent lights of the pulpit in 
 his time. This judgment is warranted not only by 
 his contemporary reputation, but by his published 
 sermons that have come down to us. 
 
 Among the personal qualities that distinguished 
 him as a preacher were the following: — 
 
 1. He had a deep, unwavering conviction of the 
 truth and importance of his message. The "accent of 
 conviction" was never lacking in it. He had thor- 
 oughly tested that truth by his own experience. 
 "I preached what I saw and felt," he says. He 
 could sincerely say, therefore, with the first preachers 
 of the gospel, we "speak the things which we have 
 seen and heard." He was an actual witness to their 
 verity, not merely a repeater of things reported by 
 others. He believed with all his heart that men 
 needed an almighty saviour from sin and that in 
 Christ Jesus only they could find him. As a result 
 of this conviction he manifested an enthusiasm and 
 earnestness in his preaching which seemed like a 
 heavenly inspiration. 
 
 "I have been in my preaching [he says], especially when I have 
 been engaged in the doctrine of life by Christ without works, as 
 if an angel of God had stood at my back to encourage me. Oh, 
 it hath been with such power and heavenly evidence upon my 
 soul, while I have been laboring to unfold it, to demonstrate it, 
 and to fasten it upon the consciences of others, that I could not 
 be contented with saying, I believe and am sure; methought I 
 was more than sure, if it be lawful so to express myself, that 
 those things which I then asserted were true." 
 
 2. He was direct and unflinching in his preaching 
 of what he believed to be the truth. "I did labor so to 
 
 210 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 speak the word," he says, "as that thereby, if it 
 were possible, the sin and the person guilty might 
 be particularized by it." Though by his plain 
 preaching he condemned himself, he was not to be 
 deterred by that fact. 
 
 "When, as sometimes, I have been about to preach upon some 
 smart and searching portion of the word, I have found the 
 tempter suggest, 'This condemns yourself; of this your own soul 
 is guilty. Wherefore preach not of it at all; or if you do, yet so 
 mince it as to make way for your own escape, lest instead of 
 awakening others, you lay that guilt upon your own soul as you 
 will never get from under.' 
 
 "But I thank the Lord [he says] I have been kept from 
 consenting to these horrid suggestions, and have rather, as 
 Samson, bowed myself with all my might, to condemn sin and 
 transgression wherever I found it, though therein I did bring 
 guilt upon my own conscience. Let me die, thought I, with 
 the Philistines, rather than deal corruptly with the blessed word 
 of God." 
 
 3. He combined with the earnestness and direct- 
 ness of address that we have spoken of a marvelously 
 clear, picturesque, and simple style. Bunyan's style 
 is the wonder of all students of rhetoric, and writers 
 upon the subject. Macaulay says of it: "The 
 vocabulary is the vocabulary of the common people. 
 Yet no WTiter (or speaker as well) has said more 
 exactly what he meant to say. For magnificence, 
 for pathos, for vehement exhortation, for every 
 purpose of the poet, the orator and the divine, this 
 homely dialect — the dialect of plain working men, is 
 sufficient." A. C. Benson compares his style to 
 that of Cardinal Newman and says: *Tt was not so 
 much the expression of a thought as the thought 
 
 211 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 itself taking shape in a perfectly pure medium of 
 language." 
 
 Besides its simplicity and lucid plainness, the 
 style of Bunyan had a persuasive warmth that 
 touched men's hearts. "Let him write on what 
 subject he may," says Dr. John Brown, his biog- 
 rapher, "he writes not long before he melts with 
 tenderness, or glows with fire." His published 
 sermons, "The Jerusalem Sinner Saved," "The 
 Barren Fig Tree," "Come and Welcome to Jesus," 
 and "The Greatness of the Soul," though enlarged 
 considerably beyond the limits within which they 
 were confined when preached, preserve the talking, 
 animated style with which they were orally delivered, 
 and are indeed full of tenderness and fire. The act 
 of committing them to writing did not essentially 
 change their mode of expression, but embalmed it. 
 
 Take the following example from a discussion on 
 "Christ our Advocate": — 
 
 "This consideration will help thee to put by that visor {i. e. 
 mask) wherewith Christ by Satan is misrepresented to thee to 
 the affrighting thee. There is nothing more common among 
 Saints than thus to be wronged by Satan : for he will labor so to 
 present Him to us with so dreadful and direful a countenance 
 that a man in temptation and under guilt shall hardly be able to 
 lift up his face to God. But to think really that He is my advo- 
 cate, this heals all. Put a visor on the face of a father and it may 
 perhaps for a while fright the child, but let the father speak, let 
 him speak in his own fatherly dialect to the child, and the visor 
 is gone, if not from the father's face, yet from the child's mind: 
 yea, the child, notwithstanding that visor, will adventure to creep 
 into the father's bosom. Thus it is with the Saints when Satan 
 deludes and abuses them by disfiguring the countenance of Christ 
 to their view; let them but hear their Lord speak in his own 
 
 212 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 natural dialect — and he doth so when we hear him speak as an 
 advocate — and their minds are calmed — their thoughts settled, 
 their guilt vanished, and their faith revived." 
 
 4. The passage just quoted suggests that a rare 
 gift of imagination was another qualification that 
 gave Bunyan his eminence as a preacher. "Similes 
 were ever coming to his mind like ripples over a 
 stream," says Dr. Brown. These were of every 
 kind and variety, so that all classes of hearers found 
 pleasure in them. There were homely figures for 
 the common people and exquisite ones for those of 
 more refined taste. 
 
 The following are examples of both kinds: — 
 
 "Sins go not alone, but follow one another as do the links of a 
 chain." 
 
 "The sinner, when his conscience is fallen asleep and grown 
 hard, will he like the smith's dog at the foot of the anvil, though 
 the fire sparks fly in his face." 
 
 "Strike a steel against a flint and the fire flies about you; strike 
 the law against a carnal heart, and sin appears, sin multiplies, 
 sin rageth, sin is strengthened." 
 
 "Truths are often delivered to us like wheat in full ears, to 
 the end we should rub them out before we eat them, and take 
 pains about them before we have the comfort of them." 
 
 "Prayer is as the pitcher that fetcheth the water from the 
 brook, therewith to water the herbs: break the pitcher and it 
 will fetch no water, and for want of water the garden withers." 
 
 "He that comes to Christ cannot always get on as fast as he 
 would. Poor coming soul, thou art like the man that would 
 ride full gallop, whose horse will hardly trot. Now the desire 
 of his mind is not to be judged by the slow pace of the dull jade 
 he rides on, but by the hitching, and kicking, and spurring as he 
 sits on his back. Thefleshislike this dull jade; it will not gallop 
 after Christ, it will be backward, though thy soul and heaven be 
 at stake." 
 
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NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 By the two following beautiful illustrations he 
 shows the advantages and mutual benefits resulting 
 from the united labors and fellowship of Christians 
 in a well-ordered church: — 
 
 "When Christians stand every one in their places and do the 
 work of their relations, then they are like the flowers in the gar- 
 den that stand and grow where the gardener hath planted them, 
 and then they shall both honor the garden in which they are 
 planted, and the gardener that hath so disposed them. From 
 the hyssop on the wall to the cedar in Lebanon, their fruit is 
 their glory." 
 
 "Christians are like the several flowers in a garden, that have 
 upon each of them the dew of heaven, which being shaken by 
 the wind they let fall their dew at each other's roots, whereby 
 they are jointly nourished and become nourishers of each other." 
 
 The imperfection of our purest and holiest desires, 
 arising from the imperfection of human nature, never 
 was more aptly expressed than in the following : — 
 
 "This is the cause of the coolness, of the weakness, of the flat- 
 ness, and of the many extravagances that attend some of our 
 desires ; they come warm from the Spirit and grace of God in us, 
 but as hot water running through cold pipes, or as clear water 
 running through dirty conveyances, so our desires gather soil." 
 
 5. Another quality in him which made Bunyan 
 eminent as a preacher was the remarkable productive- 
 ness of his mind in regard to religious subjects. His 
 mind in itself was a mine of wealth while he worked 
 on that particular vein. And its opulence was not 
 due to any enrichment it had received from wide 
 reading. Henry Ward Beecher, whose productive- 
 ness excited the wonder and admiring comment of 
 Abraham Lincoln ("the most productive mind of 
 ancient or modern times," he said), was a diligent 
 
 214 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 reader of all kinds of books, fertilizing his mind with 
 their various elements of quickening power; but Bun- 
 van's reading was chiefly confined to one book — 
 the Bible. His thoughts were his own, or such as 
 were suggested to his mind by his own experience, 
 the outward world of nature, which he attentively 
 observed, and the Bible. "I have not fished," he 
 says, "in other men's waters: my Bible and Con- 
 cordance are my only library." But few men ever 
 studied the Bible as he did. As in his early religious 
 experience, soon after meeting "those poor Bedford 
 people," he said: "I never was out of the Bible, 
 either by reading or meditation," so always. He 
 saturated his mind and heart with it. It was his 
 constant support in weakness, his daily food, the 
 never-failing tonic of his spiritual life. Through 
 all his changing moods, it w^as fitted to his various 
 needs. Placing such dependence upon it, he ex- 
 tracted from it all its enriching, stimulating power. 
 When dragged to prison for preaching the gospel, 
 this affliction was mitigated by the fact that his 
 insight into the Scriptures was enhanced thereby. 
 "I never had in all my life," he says, "so great an 
 inlet into the word of God as now. I could pray for 
 greater trouble, for the greater comfort's sake." 
 
 We can easily believe that the Bible thus con- 
 stantly studied and fed upon and made an elixir of 
 life to his soul stimulated to extraordinary produc- 
 tiveness Bunyan's mind. It yields to such a student 
 of its pages an equivalent to the best books in the 
 world's literature. Buny^n found it so. It wonder- 
 fully quickened, strengthened, and purified all his 
 
 215 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 mental faculties: it gave them for their use an 
 inexhaustible treasure of thought and suggestion, 
 and it gave him also his power of expression, the 
 remarkable style of which we have spoken, in which 
 the language of prophets, psalmists, evangelists, 
 and apostles, as given in the Authorized Version of 
 the Scriptures, is heard in its great range of thought 
 and feeling. 
 
 6. One other thing which contributed greatly to 
 Bunyan's success and eminence as a preacher was 
 his homiletic skill. His sermons are worthy of any 
 preacher's study for their valuable hints in this 
 respect. The art of preaching finds in him some of 
 its most important principles admirably exemplified. 
 While we do not by any means regard him as a model 
 preacher in all respects, and readily admit that he 
 had great faults, as those of prolixity, frequent 
 digression, excessive division, rambling, and others, 
 we still maintain that he had great excellencies, 
 which went far towards redeeming those faults, and 
 which make him, because of them, always worth a 
 preacher's time to observe and in some measure to 
 imitate. We mention these four: (1) a picturesque 
 and lively manner of addressing his hearers or readers 
 by reason of which he is never dull, however prolix 
 or rambling; (2) such a full and complete explanation 
 of the text and different points touched upon, that 
 there is no possibility of anyone mistaking, or of 
 not getting a clear understanding of his meaning; 
 (3) a remarkable and very successful use of the dia- 
 logue for the sake of answering objections or sup- 
 porting and clinching a point by a short, telling argu- 
 
 216 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 ment; and (4) an earnestness to convince and win 
 those addressed, which leaves no available means of 
 persuasion untried, and which rises continually into 
 expressions of tender appeal and passages of natural, 
 unaffected eloquence. 
 
 Of these four excellencies, the third {the use of the 
 dialogue) is perhaps the most unique and notable. 
 As used by Bunyan it is very effective. No modern 
 preacher that we can recall surpasses him in this 
 respect. The only one that we can think of who 
 approaches, and perhaps equals, him in the skilful 
 use of this rhetorical weapon is the late Professor 
 Edwards A. Park of Andover.* It is a dangerous 
 weapon to use. One may easily wound himself 
 rather than overcome his imaginary antagonist with 
 it. But having the ability and skill to use it, as it 
 was used by Bunyan and Professor Park, one may 
 achieve wonders with it. 
 
 The story of Bunyan's imprisonment for the mere 
 offense of preaching the gospel to a small company 
 of religious people, dissenters from the established 
 church, is too familiar to be dwelt on long by us. 
 For the period of twelve years and upwards, his 
 incarceration was prolonged, most of it, excepting 
 occasional absences, spent in the larger jail of the 
 county located in Bedford; to which was added, 
 later, another short term in the small municipal 
 jail placed midway on the bridge that spanned the 
 river Ouse dividing the town. At the present time 
 ^ not a relic remains of either one of those prisons. 
 
 ♦See, for example, the sermon "The Prominence of the Atonement," in his 
 Discourses (Andover: Warren F. Draper). 
 
 217 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 In the smaller jail tradition reports that the first 
 part of "The Pilgrim's Progress" was written. To 
 those two jails in Bedford was given the great honor 
 of being each the place where a great book originated. 
 In the jail on the bridge, Bunyan conceived and 
 composed the first part of his immortal allegory: 
 in the county jail, in the next century, John Howard, 
 then the sheriff of Bedfordshire, whose official duty 
 it was to inspect the prison of his county, and whose 
 heart was profoundly stirred by what he found there 
 of abuses and a wTetched condition from which 
 Bunyan had suffered, was started on his philan- 
 thropic career as a prison reformer, and incited to 
 write his famous book on "The State of Prisons in 
 England." 
 
 Bunyan took to his prison for his solace two books 
 —the Bible and Fox's "Book of Martyrs." He 
 needed all the support they could give him. 
 
 The following extracts from "Grace Abounding" 
 describe his mental and spiritual distress over his 
 situation : — 
 
 "Notwithstanding these helps, I found myself a man encom- 
 passed with infirmities. The parting with my wife and poor 
 children hath often been to me, in this place, as the pulling of 
 the flesh from the bones . . . because I would have often 
 brought to my mind the many hardships, miseries, and want 
 that my poor family was like to meet with, should 1 be taken 
 from them; especially my poor blind child [his daughter Mary], 
 who lay nearer my heart than all I had beside. Oh, the thoughts 
 of the hardship my blind one might undergo would break my 
 heart in pieces! ... In this condition I was as a man who 
 was pulling down his house upon the heads of his wife and chil- 
 dren; yet, thought I, I must do it, I must do it." 
 
 218 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 "Being but a young prisoner, and not acquainted with the 
 laws, I had this laid much upon my spirit, that my imprison- 
 ment might end at the gallows for aught that I could tell. . . . 
 Therefore Satan laid hard at me to beat me out of heart by sug- 
 gesting thus unto me: 'But how, if, when you come indeed to 
 die, you should be in this condition; that is, not to savour the 
 things of God, nor to have any evidence upon your soul for a 
 better state hereafter?' ... I thought, if I should make a 
 scrambling shift to clamber up the ladder, yet I should either 
 with quaking or other symptoms of fainting give occasion to the 
 enemy to reproach the way of God and his people for their timor- 
 ousness. This lay with great trouble upon me, for methought 
 I was ashamed to die with a pale face and tottering knees for 
 such a cause as this. . . . Thus I was tossed for many weeks, 
 and knew not what to do. At last this consideration fell with 
 weight upon me, that it was for the Word and way of God that 
 I was in this condition, wherefore I was engaged not to flinch a 
 hair's breadth from it. Wherefore, thought I, I am for going on 
 and venturing my eternal state with Christ, whether I have com- 
 fort here or not. If God doth not come in, I will leap off the ladder 
 even blindfold into eternity. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, 
 do; if not, I will venture for thy name!" "Now was my heart 
 full of comfort. I would not have been without this trial for 
 much; . . . and I hope I shall bless God forever for the 
 teaching I have had by it." 
 
 Bunyan's long imprisonment, and that of the 
 Quakers, George Fox and Whitehead, and others in 
 that age of intolerance, with the physical sufferings 
 and mental anguish that accompanied it, was a 
 part of the great price paid for the liberty to worship 
 God according to the dictates of the individual con- 
 science, which is our precious inheritance. Incal- 
 culable is the debt of gratitude we owe them on 
 account of it. 
 
 Froude defends the English government and the 
 
 219 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 magistrates of that time from the charge of cruelty, 
 as if he had received a special retainer to do it. He 
 declares, in substance, that Bunyan had only him- 
 self to blame; that his preaching was in violation 
 of law; that the magistrates repeatedly told him 
 and his wife that if he would promise not to preach, 
 he should go free; but that to all their expostulations 
 and warnings he opposed a stubborn and lawless 
 attitude. "If you let me out today," he said, "I 
 will preach again tomorrow"; and his wife, "He 
 dare not leave preaching as long as he can speak." 
 At this, one of the judges exclaimed: "Why should 
 we talk any more about such a fellow.f^ Must he 
 do what he lists?" To which the poor woman 
 might truthfully have answered: "Yes, my lord, 
 God bids him do so. Take heed, what ye intend to 
 do as touching this man, lest haply ye be found even 
 to fight against God." This is the conclusion to 
 which the world has now come. 
 
 The labored defense of Froude is no vindication 
 of the magistrates or government. It was in clear 
 violation of the promise of the king (Charles II.) 
 at Breda, before his return to England, that if 
 restored to the throne of his father, he would grant 
 "liberty and consideration for tender consciences"; 
 and that "no man should be molested for differences 
 in opinion in matters of religion." 
 
 While in prison Bunyan busied himself in various 
 ways: in the making of tagged laces, by which he 
 earned something for the maintenance of his family; 
 in preaching and ministering to his fellow-prisoners; 
 and in writing works for publication. 
 
 220 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 One who heard him preach in prison says: "In 
 the midst of the confusion (of the prison) I have 
 heard Mr. Bunyan both preach and pray with 
 that mighty spirit of faith and plerophory [i. e. 
 assurance] of Divine assistance that has made me 
 stand and wonder." 
 
 The most of the works written and published 
 during his imprisonment were ampHfications of 
 sermons he had preached. Among these were 
 the dehghtful treatises on "Christian Behavior" 
 and the "Holy City," which bear clear marks 
 of the genius that culminated in "The Pilgrim's 
 Progress." 
 
 The "Holy City," the New Jerusalem, as he 
 interpreted it, is not the abode of the Church of God 
 in the life to come; it rather symbolizes the Church 
 itself, that great community of redeemed men which 
 shall eventually bring heaven's glory and happiness 
 to the earth. Enraptured by the vision, he thus 
 expresses his longing for the time of its fulfillment: 
 "Never was fair weather after foul, nor warm weather 
 after cold, nor sweet and beautiful spring after a 
 heavy and nipping and terrible winter, so comforta- 
 ble, sweet, desirable, and welcome to the poor birds 
 and beasts of the field as this day will be to the 
 Church of God." The wonderful suggestiveness 
 and fertility of his mind in ideas is well exhibited in 
 the interpretation he gives to the several features 
 of the Holy City. Its twelve gates, three to each 
 point of the compass, indicate that "God hath a 
 people in every quarter of the world, and that from 
 what quarter of the world soever men come for life, 
 
 221 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 for those men there are the gates of life right 
 before their doors." 
 
 Its foundations with the names of the twelve 
 apostles on them indicate "that neither Christ nor 
 any of his benefits can be profitable unto thee unless 
 thou receive him alone upon the terms that they do 
 offer him to sinners in their word and doctrine." 
 
 Its twelve gates of twelve pearls — "every several 
 gate one pearl" — indicate "that as none can enter 
 in but by Christ, so none can enter in but by a 
 whole Christ: . . . thou must enter in by 
 every whit of Christ, or by never a whit of him." 
 
 Its one "street of pure gold, as it were transparent 
 glass," indicates that "at last the saints shall walk 
 in one way. It is Anti-Christ that hath brought 
 in all these crossings, by-lanes, and odd nooks that 
 to this day many an honest heart doth greatly lose 
 itself in. Men must have pure hearts for that 
 golden street, — golden hearts with graces that are 
 much more precious than gold." 
 
 That "the city was pure gold" indicates "how 
 invincible a spirit the people of God are possessed 
 of. Gold is a metal so invincible that no fire can 
 consume it." Fire may melt it, and consume its 
 dross, but instead of destroying it the fire refines it. 
 "The church in the fire of persecution is like Esther 
 in the perfuming chamber, but making fit for the 
 presence of the king." 
 
 Holding a conspicuous place among these prison 
 writings was "Grace Abounding," written for the 
 spiritual good of those to whom he formerly min- 
 istered, "whom God hath counted him worthy to 
 
 222 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 beget to faith by his ministry." "The remembrance 
 of my great sins, of my great temptations, and of my 
 great fears of perishing forever bring afresh to my 
 mind the remembrance of my great help from heaven. 
 He would therefore incite them to '^search also for 
 the hid treasure of their first and second experience 
 of the grace of God." 
 
 Of the style in which he wrote it, which is essen- 
 tially the style of all his works, adopted for the 
 reason here given, he says : "I could have stepped into 
 a style much higher than this in which I have dis- 
 coursed, but I dare not." God did not play in 
 dealing with him, he said, neither did he himself 
 play when he sank as into a bottomless pit and the 
 pangs of hell caught hold of him. Therefore he may 
 not play in telling the story, but "be plain and simple 
 and lay down the thing as it was. He that likes 
 it may receive it, he that does not, let him 
 produce a better." 
 
 No better rule for the formation of a good style 
 could be given than that thus adopted by Bunyan 
 and contained in the words ''be plain and simple, 
 and lay down the thing as it was.'' So Lincoln ac- 
 quired his wonderful style. It was the result of 
 his honest endeavor to tell the exact truth — to 
 express and "lay down the thing as it was." 
 
 This rule does not exclude proper use of the imagi- 
 nation. It indeed requires this sometimes. Many 
 times it is not possible "to lay down the thing as 
 it was" without the aid of apt illustration. Subjects 
 that are obscure to the common intelligence, like 
 those of religion and its ideals, and the abstruse 
 
 223 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 themes of philosophy, require the illumination given 
 by the imagination. As visitors to Mammoth Cave 
 would get no adequate conception of the magnitude 
 and wondrous beauty of its jeweled chambers, 
 except by the illuminating light of their torches, so 
 explorers of all dark subjects would have no clear 
 ideas in regard to them, no perception of their full 
 meaning and real charm, but for the imagination's 
 help. The writings of Bunyan are good examples 
 of this truth. The attractive charm possessed by 
 them is largely due to the imaginative light thrown 
 upon them. 
 
 The most famous of his writings, "The Pilgrim's 
 Progress," was conceived and largely composed in 
 the last year of his imprisonment. Like all his works, 
 its thought, lessons, and inspiration were derived 
 from the Bible. Comparing it with Dante's great 
 work. Dr. John Brown truly says: " 'The Pilgrim's 
 Progress' is an English flower, as the *Divina Com- 
 media' is a Tuscan flower, grown on Jewish soil." 
 One is as much a work of genius as the other. Their 
 immortality, their unfading popularity with all 
 classes of people, place them in the same rank. It 
 is interesting to know how it originated and was 
 composed. 
 
 The idea of it came to him while engaged with 
 another work. It came to him as an inspiration, 
 like Mozart's Requiem. It took possession of his 
 mind, captivated, and engrossed it completely 
 until it was finished. 
 
 He wrote it to please himself, without any thought, 
 at first, of its publication or of the fame it was to 
 
 224 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 bring him. Indeed he tells us in his homely "apol- 
 ogy" for it, that when finished he hesitated to give 
 it to the world and in his doubt consulted his friends 
 about it. 
 
 "Some said, John, print it; others said. Not so. 
 Some said, it might do good; others said, No. 
 Now I was in a strait, and did not see 
 WTiich was the best thing to be done by me; 
 At last I thought, since you are thus divided, 
 I print it will; and so the case decided." 
 
 It cost him no painful effort to produce it. It 
 sprang from his fertile mind like a spring flower 
 from its native soil w^hen quickened by the sunshine. 
 In the doing of it there was no conscious elaboration. 
 His thick-coming thoughts and fancies were, he 
 says, "like sparks from coals of fire," spontaneous, 
 unforced, and eager to find expression. 
 
 "Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
 And quickly had my thoughts in black and white." 
 
 Concerning its characteristics little need be said, 
 because they are so w^ell known. Few there are of 
 English stock but have read and appreciated its 
 i'p.aginative picturesqueness, its graphic descrip- 
 tions, its genial humor, and childlike naturalness. 
 It charmed and instructed us in childhood and still 
 retains its spell over us in our adult years even to the 
 end of life. Dean Stanley has truly said of it: "The 
 pilgrimage Bunyan described is the pilgrimage of 
 every one of us, and the combination of neighbors, 
 friends and enemies whom he saw in his dream 
 are the same as we see in our actual lives." 
 
 No other book depicts so vividly our varied 
 
 15 225 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 religious experiences, our spiritual needs, our fears, 
 and our hopes, and the exaltation of mind granted 
 to us in our better moments. In short, it has the 
 elements of universality and stability characteristic 
 of the highest works of genius, which make it agree- 
 able to all classes and creeds, "a religious bond to 
 the whole of English Christendom," and acceptable 
 to the people of all time. Though the peculiar 
 theology of Bunyan's day has become obsolete in 
 most churches, and been supplanted by another 
 whose doctrinal statements differ widely from it, 
 strange to say, this change has hardly touched the 
 truth and power of "The Pilgrim's Progress." It 
 is vital still with the essential truth of Christianity. 
 This has remained and will remain as invulnerable 
 to attack from such changes as the teaching of the 
 New Testament. With the good in them it accords; 
 the error like a touchstone it reveals. Written 
 after that remarkable "inlet into the word of God," 
 which came to him in prison, in consequence of 
 which he said: ''The Scriptures that I saw nothing in 
 before are made in this place to shine upon me. Here 
 I have seen Jesus Christ , and felt Him indeed,'' the 
 Christian truth with which his mind was thus im- 
 bued, and which he endeavored to embody in his 
 story, was well-nigh free — purged as by fire — from 
 error, so that Dean Stanley's words at the unveiling 
 of Bunyan's statue in Bedford, in 1874, are forever 
 true of the situations and experiences described in 
 the transparent, Hfelike allegory: "All of us need 
 to be cheered by the help of Greatheart and Stead- 
 fast and Valiant for the Truth, and good old Honest. 
 
 226 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 Some of us have been in Doubting Castle, some in 
 the Slough of Despond, some have experienced the 
 temptations of Vanity Fair: all of us have to climb 
 the Hill Difficulty, all of us need to be instructed 
 by the Interpreter in the House Beautiful; all of 
 us bear the same burden; all of us need the same 
 armor in our fight with Apollyon; all of us have to 
 pass through the dark river; and for all of us (if 
 God so will) there wait the Shining Ones at the 
 gates of the Celestial City, which when we see, we 
 wish ourselves among them." 
 
 The first part of this immortal work w^as published 
 in imperfect form in 1678. Three editions were 
 called for and published within a year (the last, only, 
 having the completed form), showing that it leaped 
 at once into the popularity which it has ever since 
 enjoyed. Nathaniel Ponder at the sign of the 
 Peacock was its publisher. "A modern artist," 
 says Dr. Brown, "has painted a picture to indicate 
 the instant popularity of it. A scholar is coming 
 out from under the sign of the Peacock, and a peas- 
 ant, whip in one hand and money in the other, going 
 in, while near the shop-door are a gay gallant and a 
 fair lady, schoolboys and grave men, all intently 
 reading that story of the 'Pilgrim' they have pur- 
 chased over the counter within. The picture is 
 true of the time then, and true to the time now." 
 
 The second part, with the story of the pilgrimage 
 of Christiana and her children with their companions, 
 was given to the world early in 1685. The spelling 
 of the book was the spelling of an uneducated man, 
 calling for correction, but the style of it was Bunyan's 
 
 227 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 own style, incapable of much amendment. An 
 English clergyman, Joshua Gilpin, Vicar of Wrock- 
 wardine, in 1811, published "a new and corrected 
 edition, in which the phraseology of the author is 
 somewhat improved," but the alleged improve- 
 ment was not accepted by the public as such. The 
 vicar, though a highly educated man and with the 
 best intentions in the world, was not a good judge 
 of style and "the phraseology" best suited to the 
 work. 
 
 Bunyan survived the completion of his great work 
 about three years and a half, dying in London, 
 August 31, 1688, having journeyed thither to place 
 the MS. of a new book, "The Acceptable Sacrifice," 
 with his publisher. His death was owing to a fever 
 contracted from exposure to a drenching rain en- 
 countered on the way from Reading to London. 
 He had visited Reading, which lay considerably 
 out of his way, on an errend of mercy — happily 
 successful. It was to bring about the reconciliation 
 of an angry father with his wayward son. Before 
 his fever had developed he was able to preach, of a 
 Sunday, near White Chapel. The concluding words 
 of his sermon, and the last words heard from his 
 lips from the pulpit, were: "Consider that the holy 
 God is your father, and let this oblige you to live 
 like the children of God, that you may look your 
 father in the face with comfort another day." 
 
 He was buried in the heart of London, in Bunhill 
 Fields, "the Campo Santo of Dissenters," as it has 
 been called, where the bodies of John Owen, George 
 Fox, Isaac Watts, Daniel Defoe, Susannah Wesley, 
 
JOHN BUNYAN 
 
 and many other notable persons have been buried. 
 Such was the reverence felt for his piety that many 
 of his contemporaries desired with their dying breath 
 that their bodies might be buried near his in the 
 expectation of being associated with him in the 
 Resurrection Day. Such respect for a man's good- 
 ness and sanctity b;^ his contemporaries is not always 
 enduring. Time and research into the hidden things 
 of his life often discover flaws in his character which 
 change contemporary renown into later disrepute. 
 Not so with Bunyan. Lapse of time and the survey 
 of his work and character, unbiased by religious 
 prejudice, have only added luster and new respect 
 to his name. An interesting proof of it is seen in 
 a recent item of news that has come to us from Eng- 
 land. It is this, that a movement has lately been 
 started there to place in Westminster Abbey a me- 
 morial window to John Bunyan, which has been 
 heartily favored by the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 and other dignitaries of the Anglican Church as 
 well as by distinguished men of various dissenting 
 religious bodies; and a committee has been appointed 
 to raise the required sum of five thousand pounds 
 for the fulfillment of the plan. 
 
 Such a memorial, in that place, inaugurated with 
 appropriate religious ceremony, will be a beatifica- 
 tion of John Bunyan by the Anglican Church and 
 other Protestant bodies as worthy to be reckoned, 
 despite the persecution and scorn heaped upon him 
 when living, among the saints and heroes of the 
 Christian faith, and among the noblest exemplars 
 of its sanctifying power. 
 
 2^9 
 
VII 
 FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
vn 
 
 FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 Born in London, February 3, 1816: Died in 
 Brighton, August 15, 1853. 
 
 Robertson, all things considered, we regard as the 
 most remarkable English preacher of the nineteenth 
 century. He died at the early age of thirty seven, 
 and his active ministry covered a period of only 
 thirteen years ; but in this brief period he did a work 
 and fulfilled a ministry that, for depth and extent 
 of its ultimate influence, was scarcely equaled by 
 any contemporary in the labors of twice this length 
 of time. Notablejs^e fact that this great influence 
 was mainly jr'posthum^us influence, scarcely recog- 
 nized vvhile hewas living^'^^ then only by a Ifmited 
 portion of the English religious public, but wrought 
 by his published sermons and by the publication of 
 his "Life and Letters," prepared by Rev. Stopford 
 Brooke, and given to the world twelve years after 
 Robertson's death. * Those sermons, widely read 
 by ministers of all denominations and Christian 
 laymen throughout the English-speaking world, ex- 
 cited the profoundest and most lively interest by 
 their freshness and originality of thought, their 
 novel statement of Christian truth and their impres- 
 sive style. As the writer recalls the impression 
 
 233 
 

 NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 which those sermons made on his own mind when 
 a Seminary student reading them as they first ap- 
 peared, it seems to him now that they made upon 
 him a deeper impression than the pubHshed sermons 
 of any preacher he ever read. They awakened a 
 sustained interest by their suggestiveness and origi- 
 nahty , so that one did not soon tire of reading them ; 
 they stirred and purified the heart by their noble 
 sentiments; they fructified the mind with seed 
 thoughts which yielded an abundant harvest. They 
 were the work of a man endowed with a rare genius 
 perfected by careful training and self-culture, and 
 refined by piety and suffering. 
 
 His Family and Early Home Environment 
 
 He belonged to a military family. His grand- 
 father, Colonel Robertson, in whose house in London^ 
 he was born, was a distinguished officer in the Eng- 
 lish army, and wounded in the service. His father 
 was a captain in the Royal Artillery. Of his three , 
 brothers, two, Charles and Harry, won frequent / 
 honorable mention in the Kaffir war, and Struan / 
 was a captain in the Royal South Lincoln militia./ 
 The first five years of his life were passed at Lerth 
 Fort, near Edinburgh, where his father was stationed^ 
 and where he says "he was rocked and cradled to the 
 roar of artillery." The conversation of home was 
 of war and its exploits. Thus he was fed and nur- 
 tured from infancy through childhood and youth 
 upon the anecdotes and associations of a soldier's 
 life. Heredity and early environment contributed 
 
 ^34 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSp^^ ^' ^ 
 
 to produce in him a martial spipitrjJid--DX^e him 
 eager foTja^oldier's career .•gTms martial spirit 
 /^g^e a ton«o his ministry*1and was one of the ele- , 
 \ ments of po^fcr in his pulpit eloquence as in that of 
 
 Chryso»toin 
 
 mother were pious devout people 
 of the evangBftal type. The atmosphere of his 
 early home wa^lnade sweet and wholesome by the 
 best influences of religion. They were also people 
 of culture and refinement and moved in a social 
 circle of the best class. 
 
 II. Education and Mental Development 
 
 i 
 
 I The father was his children's earliest teacher, and \ 
 I he superintended their instruction for several years ] 
 \ after he had ceased personally to give them lessonsV 
 A± sixteen, after having become well grounded in 
 the classics and French languages, Frederick entered 
 the New Academy, Edinburgh, where he at once 
 took a high place in his class. He possessed the 
 qualities of a superior scholar, extraordinary power 
 of attention, quickness to learn, and a retentive 
 memory, which enabled him in later years to "recall 
 page after page of books which he had not read 
 since his boyhood." He was also an intense worker 
 and early formed the habit, which remained with 
 him, of mastering fully whatever he studied.! Besides 
 studying at the Academy, he attended cla^s at the 
 University and gave himself eagerly to studies in 
 natural science, especially chemistry and physics. 
 Returning home he wished to enter the army, but 
 
 ^35 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHER^ 
 
 his father, beheving that this promising son was 
 better fitted by nature for the Church than for the 
 army, proposed to him that he should study for the 
 ministry. He answered, "Anythingbut that; I 
 am not fit for rfT He^was^accordingly pfeced uT 
 a soHcitor's office and stayed there a year until his 
 health became impaired by his sedentary work, and 
 the galling influence of his secret disappointment. 
 His father then consented that he should follow the 
 bent of his mind, and an application was made for 
 a commission in the army. There was then no 
 vacancy, but his name was placed on the list for a 
 cavalry regiment in India. >Two years he waited, 
 giving himself enthusiastically, meantime, to pur- 
 suits that would fit him for his anticipated career^ 
 He became an expert rider, a good shot, and an 
 excellent draughtsman. He omitted nothing likely 
 to make him a good cavalry officer. His father, 
 believing from the long delay that his application 
 had been forgotten and would never be successful, 
 again proposed to this son to enter the Church, and 
 was met again with the same decisive refusal ;'l!mtil 
 other friends and a chain of circumstances, united 
 to strengthen the father's persuasions, a^*^his son 
 at length yielded. ^Jn one of his sermons in after 
 years, to illustrate^^ow God's providence shapes our 
 course in life, he says: "If I had not met a certain 
 person, I should not have changed my profession; 
 if I had not known a certain lady I should not prob- 
 ably have met this person; if that lady had not had 
 a delicate daughter who was disturbed by the bark- 
 ing of my dog; if my dog had not barked that night, 
 
 236 
 
 \ 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 I should now have been in the dragoons or fertihzing 
 the soil of India." The decision made, he promptly 
 acted upon it and entered Brasenose College, Oxford 
 University, being matriculated May-^tTTS^T! FTve^ 
 days afterwards, the long-expected letter came from 
 the military secretary of the English government, 
 offering him a cavalry commission in the Second 
 Dragoons with the option of exchange in the third 
 just embarking for India. Had the letter arrived 
 three weeks sooner, he had never entered the Church. 
 He was then twenty-one years old. — ^ 
 
 Though with characteristic submission of spirit 
 he resigned himself to what he believed to be God's 
 will^ the disappointment nevertheless saddened his 
 whole life. He never ceased to think of what might 
 have been had his wish for a soldier's career been 
 gratified, and he indulged a secret, but sometimes 
 expressed regret that he had not been permitted to 
 reahze it. "All his life long,'s his biographer says, 
 "he was a soldier at heart. J^ In the height of his 
 popularity as a preacher, he said: "I would rather I 
 have led a forlorn hope than mount the pulpit / -^ 
 stairs." ^-^ < 
 
 The time covered by his life as a student at Oxford, 
 1837-1840, was one of great interest. Among his ^ 
 
 contemporaries were Arthur Stanley and Ruskin; 
 among his teachers were Buckland, the geologist, 
 and Thomas Arnold, illustrious both as the great '] 
 
 teacher of Rugby School and as lecturer upon history j 
 
 in Oxford. He speaks of Arnold as "every inch a j 
 
 man"; and has given us a picture of his appearance 
 at his opening lecture on Modern History when, after 
 
 237 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 years of obloquy, he was received then with great 
 honor. **He walked up to the rostrum with a quiet 
 step and manly dignity." Few, however, exercised 
 much influence over Robertson; he was rather the 
 magnet that drew others to himself. 
 
 The Tractarian movement was nearing its cul- 
 
 ^mination. He shared the excitement produced by 
 ^''the writings of Newman, Pusey and Keble. He 
 ' heard J. H. Newman preach some of his most famous 
 sermons and was deeply impressed by his preach- 
 ing. But he never adopted the distinctive opinions 
 and ideas of the Tractarians. On the contrary, he 
 resisted and actively combatted them. He read 
 carefully the literature bearing upon the subject 
 and formed from these studies a conviction from 
 which he never swerved, that the Tractarian lead- 
 ers were in error as to the principal things they 
 contended for. 
 
 His biographer, speaking several years later of 
 his attitude of mind toward the views of the High- 
 Church piety, says: *Tt may be well here to set 
 that question at rest. He had no sympathy with 
 their views; but he had a great deal of sympathy 
 with the men who held them, with their self-devotion, 
 and with their writings. He reverenced the self- 
 sacrificing work they were performing among poor 
 and neglected parishes. He said that, as a body, 
 they had reasserted the doctrine of a spiritual 
 resurrection, which had been almost put out of 
 sight by the 'Evangelical' party. He read New- 
 man's sermons with profit and delight till the day 
 of his death. There was no book which he studied 
 
 238 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 more careiully or held in higher honor than the 
 'Christian Year' (of Keble). It seemed to him that 
 some of 'ts poems were httle short of inspired. He 
 saw in ne importance which the Tractarians gave 
 to fprA s a valuable element which he never lost 
 sight o in his teaching. Only, while they seemed to 
 say that forms could produce life, he said that forms 
 were necessary only to support life; but for that 
 they were necessary. To use his own illustration: 
 *Bread will not create life, but life cannot be kept , 
 up without bread.' On the subject of baptism he 
 felt no sympathy with the Evangelical view, which 
 left it doubtful whether the baptized child was a 
 child of God or not; but because the Tractarian 
 view declared that all baptized persons were children 
 of God, he could so far sympathize with it. But 
 on all other points, starting as he did from the basis 
 that baptism declared, and did not create the fact 
 of sonship, his difference was radical." 
 
 In his endeavor to get at the Scriptural teaching 
 upon the questions discussed he studied the Bible ^ 
 most diligently and thoroughly. "It was his habit 
 when dressing in the morning to commit to memory 
 daily a certain number of verses of the New Testa- 
 ment. In this way, before leaving the University, 
 he had gone tw^ice over the English version and 
 once and a half through the Greek. With his 
 extraordinary power of arrangement, he mentally y^ 
 combined and recombined all the prominent texts 
 under fixed heads of subjects. Owing to this prac- 
 tice, as he declared afterwards, no sooner was any 
 Christian doctrine or duty mentioned or suggested 
 
 239 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to him by what he was writing than ah the pas- 
 sages bearing on the point seemed to arr.iy them- 
 selves in order before him." 
 
 / This incidental benefit, due largely to th Trac- 
 tarian agitation, was of priceless benefit . him. 
 * ^ There was another result, however, which he ghtly 
 or wrongly, much deplored. It. was that of desul- 
 tory discoursive reading. Instead of "reading for 
 honors" i.e. — confining his attention to the few 
 books and topics recommended in the college curric- 
 ulum, and by thorough mastery of them according 
 to a definite plan seeking to win class honors, he 
 was led by the excitement of the controversy, ques- 
 tions of the day, "gleams and flashings of new paths 
 of learning," to desert the prescribed course and 
 follow whithersoever they might draw him, having 
 no plan to guide him. Ten or twelve years after 
 he left the University he says: "I now feel that I 
 was utterly, mournfully, irreparably wrong. I 
 would now give £200 a year to have read on a bad 
 plan, chosen for me, but steadily." 
 
 But though his reading was thus somewhat mis- 
 cellaneous, he did not fall into the fault of that 
 "careless, multifarious reading," which, he says, 
 "is an excuse for the mind to lie dormant whilst 
 thought is poured in and runs through a clear stream, 
 over unproductive gravel on which not even mosses 
 grow," and which he reprobates as "the idlest of all 
 idlenesses, and leaves more of impotency than any 
 other." "I know what reading is," he said, when 
 shattered health forbade close reading, "for I could 
 read once and did. I read hard (at the University), 
 
 240 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 or not at all, never skimming, and Plato, Aristotle, 
 Butler, Thucydides, Jonathan Edwards passed like 
 the iron atoms of the blood into my mental con- 
 stitution." Besides these writers he read much and 
 attentively Coleridge, Shelley, Shakespeare and 
 Wordsworth. Though not a writer of poetry him- 
 self he had a poet's sensitiveness to the attractions 
 of nature, and the appeal of human life in its differ- 
 ent phases of heroic sublimity, romance, and touch- 
 ing pathos. He did not make many friends at 
 Oxford and was not widely known, his dispositon 
 inclining him to seclusion and solitariness. He 
 was by nature shy and diffident. Except to his 
 intimate friends he was reserved and taciturn, at 
 the same time preserving a proud independence of 
 spirit, which made him pursue his own course rather 
 than be a follower of others. 
 
 III. His Ministry 
 
 The thirteen years and a few weeks of his min- 
 isterial life were passed in four places: Winchester, 
 two years; Cheltenham, five years; Oxford, three 
 months; Brighton, six years. 
 
 At Winchester, he began his work at twenty -four 
 years of age, being ordained deacon July 12, 1840: 
 he served as curate, or assistant, of Mr. Nicholson, 
 rector of a large parish located among a very poor 
 population, where there was much infidelity and 
 immorality. His rector was an earnest, devoted 
 man, in whom he found "a faithful friend whose 
 sympathy cheered, and whose experience guided 
 
 16 241 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 him." The work was hard and beset with difficul- 
 ties, but "the difficulties of his position were his 
 stimulus." They appealed to the soldier spirit in 
 him. He labored with all his heart among the poor, 
 and the working men, and was "so earnest, courteous 
 and eager to serve that in a great measure he over- 
 came their prejudices." His way of life, as described 
 by one of his Winchester friends, was regular and 
 simple: "Study all the morning, getting up early 
 and eating almost no breakfast in order to be able 
 to apply himself to work; in the afternoon, hard 
 fagging at visitation of the poor in the dirtiest streets 
 of Winchester; evenings, spent sometimes alone, 
 but often with his rector." "He devoted much of 
 his time to the Sunday school and made the teaching 
 system attractive and useful by training the teachers 
 himself." "A vein of melancholy ran through 
 his character." Not much society was offered to 
 him and he did not wish for it. "He was disposed 
 to regard general society as a waste of time." He 
 found devotional reading profitable and inspiring, 
 especially the lives of eminently holy persons whose 
 tone was one of communion with God. "It made 
 his sense of the reality of religious feeling more 
 acute when he found it embodied in the actions of 
 men who expressed it." "Brainerd's Life," written 
 by Edwards, he greatly valued. "To my taste," 
 he said, "it stands alone as a specimen of biography." 
 He gave much time to prayer and this gave tone to 
 his preaching. "His sermons touched men to the 
 quick. They were delivered with great ease and 
 self-command, with vivid action, and an impassioned 
 
 242 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 earnest manner that made every word tell." Though 
 his biographer says: "The sermons preached at 
 Winchester do not exhibit much power, are start- 
 lingly inferior to those delivered at Brighton, and 
 do not, to the reader, even foretell his future excel- 
 lence"; one of his constant hearers says: "His ser- 
 mons did prophesy his future excellence. I am dis- 
 posed to say that they were never at any time more 
 impressive." * 
 
 This difference of opinion can be reconciled, 
 we think. The sermons of Winchester were of the 
 common evangelical type; their doctrine, that of 
 the traditional theology of the Evangelical School 
 in which he had grown up. They sound a familiar 
 note, which the widely diffused literature of that 
 school has made trite and almost commonplace. 
 Those of Brighton, how^ever, w^ere the product of a 
 mind that had, through study and personal con- 
 viction, so changed and modified his earlier opinions 
 of the Evangelical School, that a new and startling 
 note is heard in them and a note of stronger personal 
 passion and conviction, because the preacher knew 
 that his teaching was likely to encounter prejudice 
 and an opposition such as new statements or modi- 
 fications of religious truth and departures from the 
 beaten paths of theological statements and belief 
 are certain to create. 
 
 Robertson's health broke down under the system 
 of austere regimen, hard study, and unrelaxing toil 
 which he had adopted. Toward the end of the first 
 year a distressing pain in the side and an alarming 
 cough developed. His spirits sank, he became 
 
 243 
 
 ^ 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 despondent and his physicians ordered him to leave 
 his work and go to Switzerland. Before his depar- 
 ture, he passed the examination for priest's orders, 
 at which he presented so remarkable a paper upon 
 the duties and work of the diaconate, in connection 
 with the personal narrative of his own experience 
 in the office, that the bishop "retained it and gave it 
 to future candidates to read as a noble example of 
 the spirit and mode in which the diaconate should 
 be fulfilled." And yet, such was Robertson's mor- 
 bid spirit and disposition to depreciate his work, 
 that he looked back upon it with shame and a sense 
 of failure. 
 
 Proceeding to the continent he traveled on foot 
 up the Rhine, through portions of Germany on to 
 Switzerland. Through the excitement of healthy 
 exercise and change of scene his sadness gradually 
 passed away and his health was partially restored. 
 He keenly appreciated the beautiful and sublime 
 in nature and the interesting traditions of the Rhine 
 Valley, so that every step of the storied way was a 
 delight to him. 
 
 Arrived in Geneva, having introductions to some 
 of its people of social eminence, he soon formed a 
 circle of valuable acquaintance. He entered eagerly 
 into the discussions, social and religious, which then 
 agitated the city. His brilliant powers of conversa- 
 tion, his intelligence and enthusiasm charmed all 
 whom he m^et. Under the quickening influence 
 of his improved health, he became much altered for 
 the better, as if actually transformed. 
 
 He met there in Geneva the illustrious Cesar 
 
 244 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 Malan, and had more than one eager discussion 
 with him over reKgious and theological questions, 
 in regard to which they differed. Malan, saga- 
 ciously discerning in these conversations the excit- 
 able and despondent nature of the young man, said 
 to him: *'My dear Brother, you will have a sad life, 
 a sad ministry." He met there also, in Geneva, 
 his future wife, Helen Denys, the daughter of an 
 English Baronet, and after a short acquaintance 
 married her, and soon returned to England. But 
 owing to still lingering traces of ill health, he was 
 forbidden to take a ministerial charge for several 
 months . At length, he was given a curacy in Chelten- 
 ham, and he entered upon its duties in the summer of 
 1842 at the age of twenty-six. Here, as at Win- 
 chester, he was happy and fortunate in being asso- 
 ciated with a rector. Rev. Archibald Boyd, whom he 
 greatly respected and admired. Mr Robertson 
 usually preached in the afternoon, and "he soon 
 began to exercise upon his congregation his peculiar 
 power of fascination." It was the fascination, not 
 merely of an entrancing voice and pleasing delivery, 
 but of a powerful, inspiring mind, rich in thought 
 and animated by deep spiritual cravings and moral 
 earnestness to do good. One who heard him at the 
 beginning of his ministry in Cheltenham says: "I 
 was not merely struck, I was startled by the sermon. 
 The high order of thought, the large and clear con- 
 ception, the breadth of view, the passion held in 
 leash, the tremulously earnest tone, the utter forget- 
 fulness of self in his subject, and the abundance of 
 the heart out of which the mouth spake, made me feel 
 
 245 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 that here, indeed, was one whom it would be well 
 to miss- no opportunity of hearing." "From the 
 first," says this informant, "he largely swayed those 
 minds which had any point of contact with his own. 
 In spite of what he says of Cheltenham, he had very 
 many hearers there, who knew how to rate him at 
 his proper value, before a larger public had indorsed 
 it. Nor was it among the laymen and women of 
 Cheltenham alone that he made his influence felt. 
 At the clerical meetings he attended, he would for 
 the most part remain silent, but sometimes when 
 many of his brethren were in difficulty about the 
 meaning of a text he would startle them by saying 
 a few simple words, which shed a flood of new light 
 upon the passage. He never put himself forward, 
 but his talents were none the less recognized and 
 held in honor by the foremost of his brother clergy- 
 men." 
 
 He exercised his peculiar fascination not only in 
 the pulpit and upon gatherings of clergymen, but 
 by his conversation in social circles. "He was a 
 marvelously bright and eloquent talker," his biog- 
 rapher says, and "he was cordially welcome every- 
 where." "Perhaps his influence on society was more 
 powerful, as more insensible, than his influence in 
 the pulpit." Society on the other hand greatly 
 stimulated and influenced him. "Some of his 
 highest and best thoughts were kindled by sparks 
 which fell from the minds of his friends. His inter- 
 course even with inferiors in intelligence and culture 
 was always fruitful. He took their ideas and, 
 putting the stamp of his own mind upon them, 
 
 246 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 used them to serve his purpose. '*It was not that 
 he unfairly appropriated what belonged to others, 
 but that he made it his own by the same tenure as 
 property is first held, by the worth he gave to it." 
 To such a man society is helpful and necessary 
 that he may do his best. 
 
 Three things contributed greatly to the develop- 
 ment and enrichment of his mind in Cheltenham: 
 friends, the social atmosphere of the town, and the 
 books he read. Prominent among his friends was 
 Mr. Boyd, his rector. "The influence of this friend- 
 ship," says his biographer, "was clearly marked. 
 It bore fruit in his sermons. Under the impulse 
 given by those of Mr. Boyd, they became entirely 
 changed in character. Instead of writing them in 
 one morning, without preparation, as at Winchester 
 [which method is essentially that of mere improvisa- 
 tion, in which what is written is superficial, coming 
 from the top of the mind, instead of from its richer 
 depths], he studied for them on Thursday and Friday, 
 
 and wrote them carefully on Saturday 
 
 Their tone was more intellectual, without being 
 less earnest; their generalizations more daring and 
 their practical teaching wider. Through the ideal 
 which this friendship created, much of his peculiar 
 intellectual power in preaching was drawn to the 
 
 light." 
 
 Another friendship was formed with a gentleman 
 well-read in metaphysics and acquainted with the 
 results of recent theological and philosophical dis- 
 cussions in Germany. Their conversations were 
 frequent and interesting and actuated by love of 
 
 247 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 the truth; and "it was partially, at least, due to this 
 friendship that Mr. Robertson escaped from the 
 trammels which had confined his intellect and spirit." 
 The social atmosphere of Cheltenham was that of 
 a fashionable watering place, or health resort like 
 Saratoga. It was frequented, like Saratoga, by 
 religious people, especially of the Evangelical sort. 
 At that time it was a "hotbed of religious excite- 
 ment." The controversy of the "Tracts for the 
 Times" was at its height. There were the usual 
 tests of orthodoxy applied to every new clergyman, 
 and the usual ban placed on those who could not. 
 repeat the accepted Shibboleth. To hold certain 
 doctrines and to speak certain phrases and to feel 
 certain feelings was counted equivalent to a Chris- 
 tian life by many in the congregations. There was 
 in all this talk much sham and religious pretense 
 which voiced itself in hollow cant. At first, with 
 unquestioning charity he believed that all who 
 spoke of Christ were Christlike. "His truthful 
 character, his earnestness, at first unconsciously 
 and afterwards consciously, recoiled from all the 
 unreality about him. So disgusted was he by the 
 expression of religious emotion which fell from those 
 who were living a merely fashionable life," that he 
 gave up reading devotional books (which he after- 
 wards confessed was a mistake), lest he should 
 fall into the same habit. Jle was also shocked by 
 the intolerance and harsh criticisms indulged in by 
 the orthodox people and the religious papers of the 
 Evangelical School, like the Record and the 
 Guardian, which denounced suspected men with- 
 
 248 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 out any regard to the truth of their charges. "They 
 tell lies in the name of God," he said, and their 
 dishonesty and bigotry shook his faith in the Evan- 
 gelical system. The misrepresentations and imperti- 
 nences of what he called "his muslin Episcooate" 
 (the coterie of gossiping women who tried to shape 
 his opinions and curb the freedom and honesty of 
 his speech) added to his estrangement from the 
 Evangelical party, until, in his strong reprobation 
 of the faults of that party and reaction from their 
 offensive dogmatism, he found himself gradually 
 parting from the school in which he had been reared 
 and with which he had so far worked. He unfairly 
 charged upon the Evangelical system of doctrine 
 the faults of its adherents and advocates. He forgot 
 that the truth may have false adherents and faulty 
 people that advocate it, as well as error. In his 
 loss of confidence in a portion of the Evangelical 
 School he was disposed to repudiate entirely their 
 theology, notwithstanding the fact that it was held 
 by his father and mother, and had been held by 
 some of the most saintly people in the past, like 
 Simeon, Wilberforce, Scott, Newton and Venn. 
 "It must be said," admits his biographer, "that 
 he himself showed but scant justice to the Evangel- 
 ical party. He seems to have imputed to all its 
 adherents the views of the Record newspaper. 
 He sometimes forces conclusions upon them which 
 the great body of them would repudiate. He uncon- 
 sciously overstates, in his letters, some of their 
 opinions." He went too far, no doubt, so far as to 
 be unjust to the system he thus forsook. The 
 
 249 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 influence of the social atmosphere of Cheltenham 
 on Robertson's mind was, therefore, to a great 
 extent baneiul. It developed in him an antagonism 
 and bitterness of spirit; a bewilderment of mind 
 whose effect for a time was to make him severe 
 and uncharitable in his judgments; an uncertainty 
 in regard to the truth until emancipated from a 
 narrow traditionalism by accession of new light and 
 broadened and strengthened in other ways. "When 
 he escaped from it," his biographer says, "he sprang 
 from a dwarf into a giant." 
 
 But the break with the evangelical faith in which 
 
 he had been reared, and which he held in the earlier 
 
 years of his ministry at Cheltenham, did not come 
 
 ^y-^ " suddenly. It was gradual, and not complete for 
 
 \ some time; not until he had ended his work in 
 
 Cheltenham. During the process his mind was 
 
 V clouded, and he groped blindly for the truth. It 
 
 was apparent in his preaching, so that his intimate 
 
 friends perceived it by the uncertainty of his tone 
 
 and the obscurity of his utterances — something 
 
 unusual with him. "One of these," we are told, 
 
 "who was with him at the English Lakes, said to 
 
 him one day with some sharpness, pointing to the 
 
 summit of Skiddaw, which was unseen the while 
 
 \ for mist, — 'I would not have my head like the peak 
 
 of that mountain, involved, as we see it now, in 
 
 \ cloud, for all that you would offer me.' 'I would,' 
 
 \ rejoined Robertson, 'for by and by the cloud and 
 
 I mist will roll away, and the sun will come down upon 
 
 it in all his glory.' " 
 
 His faith was justified. To another friend, later 
 
 250 
 
 / 
 
n/ 
 
 FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 /-/ 
 on, he wrote: "A man ought to burn his own smoke / 
 
 if he cannot convert it into clear flame. I am quite | 
 
 wilHng to struggle on in tw^ilight until the light 
 
 comes. Manly struggle cannot fail. Only a man 
 
 must struggle alone. His own view of truth, or j 
 
 rather his own way of viewing it and that alone, 
 
 will give him rest." 
 
 It is not strange that, while his mind was in this 
 state, and his pulpit utterances so affected by it, 
 he was misunderstood, misrepresented, and criticised \ 
 by some of his hearers. This was galling to his 
 sensitive nature, and made him think that his work 
 was an entire failure. "Through the mist which 
 his ow^n sensitiveness (and doubts) created he saw 
 the misconceptions of a few magnified into a phantom 
 of failure." But he struggled on to the end of his 
 work in Cheltenham, doing faithfully what his 
 pastoral office required. He was especially pains- 
 taking, here, as in every parish he served, in the 
 preparation of his class of young persons for confirma- 
 tion. "The labor which every year he bestowed 
 upon this work," says his biographer, "was great. 
 He personally interested himself in all the candidates. 
 The heavier the clay, the more pains in his tillage." 
 
 The influence of his reading and studies was to 
 expand and enrich his mind. He read widely and 
 thoughtfully. Carlyle, Niebuhr, Guizot, works on 
 natural science, Tennyson and Dante, he thoroughly 
 studied and appreciated. Dante, he read daily 
 and committed the whole of the "Inferno" to 
 memory. Tennyson's poems were devoured as they 
 appeared. Of Tennyson's "In Memoriam," he said: 
 
 251 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 "To me it has been the richest treasure I have had. 
 It is the most precious work published this century." 
 
 "He had a useful habit of reading on the questions 
 of the day. Owing to it he was always ready with 
 a well-considered view of all the subjects which 
 agitated the country durmg^ his career;.^/ Most 
 Ihlpbr Lailt*^l^"9fl7"te read constantly and critically 
 the Bible, the Old Testament and the New. He 
 studied the Gospel until he made the mind of Christ 
 his own and the personality of Christ as real as that 
 of his most intimate friend.^ He read not only for 
 the joy which knowledge gives, butto^^guicken hj^^^ 
 mind to creative power. rTTo^ friend he gave this 
 couhseT, basingSws-ad^ice, no doubt, upon his own I 
 practice: "Receive, imbibe and then your mind | 
 will create. Poets are creators because recipients, i 
 They open their hearts to Nature instead of going ! 
 to her with views of her already made and second- : 
 hand: they come from her and give out what they 
 \ /have felt and what she said to them. So with Scrip- | 
 ture; patient, quiet, long-revering listening to it; 
 then, suggestions." : 
 
 He made one great mistake, that of neglecting | 
 to take regular outdoor exercise. In deference to 
 what was thougEt' suitable to a clergyman, "he , 
 allowed himself none of the healthful exercises which | 
 he loved except an occasional walk and ride into 
 the country." To a person of his morbid, sensitive \ 
 nature, smarting under criticism and given to brood- ' 
 ing over and magnifying the import of what he heard | 
 said of himself, Nature's influence was especially | 
 needed as an antidote to his vexed and distempered ! 
 
 252 
 
•I 
 
 j 
 
 FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 soul. He needed the tranquil effect of her magnifi- 
 cence and calm, and when tired and exhausted with ; 
 study, he needed the restorative invigorating effect ; 
 of pure air and exercise amid her diverting scenes \ 
 and beautiful objects. Happy would it have been { 
 for him had he acted upon the advice of his favorite | 
 poet, Wordsworth: — 
 
 ''Come forth into the light of things, i 
 
 Let Nature be your teacher. 
 
 ***** , 
 
 *'She has a world of ready wealth, j 
 
 Our minds and hearts to bless, — 1 
 
 Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health, i 
 
 Truth breathed by cheerfulness, 
 
 i 
 
 "One impulse from a vernal wood 
 May teach you more of man. 
 
 Of moral evil and of good, j 
 
 Than all the sages can. ! 
 
 "Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; i 
 
 Our meddling intellect | 
 
 Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things, | 
 
 We murder to dissect. 
 
 i 
 
 "Enough of Science and of Art! ' 
 
 Close up those barren leaves; 
 
 Come forth, and bring with you a heart I 
 
 That watches and receives." ' 
 
 Wordsworth's The Tables Turned. J 
 
 Near the end of five years his position in Chel- | 
 
 tenham became intolerable and he resolved that he j 
 
 must sunder his connection with the church he was 1 
 
 serving and the Evangelical School with which 
 
 253 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 he had been identified. "Within its pale, for him, 
 there was henceforth neither hfe, peace, nor reaUty." | 
 Acting upon this conviction he started for the 
 ^ continent in September, 1846, in the middle of the 
 V"^ thirty-first year of his age, going directly to the v 
 Tyrol by way of Munich, and to the vicinity of i 
 Innsbruck; thence, later, on to Switzerland and i 
 then to Heidelberg, where, for six or eight Sundays ] 
 in the absence of the chaplain of the English con- j 
 gregation, he occupied the pulpit to the great delight i 
 of the people. 
 
 In the six or eight weeks spent in the Tyrol and 
 \\ Switzerland he passed through the great spiritual >- 
 crisis of his life. The sublime scenery of the Alpine ^ 
 region and the healthful exercise he took in exploring i 
 it afforded the medicine he needed. There he ' 
 wrestled with his doubts and fears, and conquered. 
 The stages of the conflict are veiled in mystery. 
 His biographer does not describe them, nor does 
 Robertson himself do more than hint at them. He 
 kept no diary that has ever been found, by whose 
 records we can trace them. The following passage, 
 however, in a lecture to the workingmen of Brighton ; 
 refers to this crisis in his religious faith: "It is an i 
 awful moment when the soul begins to feel the noth- ■ 
 ingness of many of the traditional opinions which ' 
 have been received with implicit confidence, and 
 in that horrible insecurity begins also to doubt 
 whether there be anything to believe at all. In that 
 fearful loneliness of spirit, when those who should { 
 have been his friends and counselors bid him stifle 
 his doubts, to extinguish as a glare from hell that i 
 
 254 ^ 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 which for aught he knows may be hght from heaven, 
 and everything seemed wrapped in hideous uncer- 
 tainty, I know of but one way in which a man may 
 come forth from his agony scathless; it is by holding 
 fast to those things that are certain still — the grand 
 simple landmarks of morality. If there be no God 
 and no future state, yet even then it is better to be 
 generous than selfish, better to be chaste than licen- 
 tious, better to be true than false, brave than a 
 coward. Blessed beyond all earthly blessedness is 
 the man who in the tempestuous darkness of the 
 soul has dared to hold fast to those venerable land- 
 marks. Thrice blessed, because his night shall pass 
 into clear bright day, with a faith and hope and 
 trust no longer traditional, but his own." Dr. 
 Brastow's statement seems to be a good summary 
 of the truth: "All such changes are likely to come 
 gradually and the process is likely to be obscure. 
 Without doubt in his case the transformation was 
 more gradual and inward and silent than appears 
 at the surface of his life, although the culmination 
 was rapid, and seems to have been limited to the 
 course of a few months, after which he emerged into 
 a new and singularly sudden consciousness of power, 
 and his growth thence onward is marvelous." 
 ("Representative Preachers.") 
 
 After an absence of only three months he returned 
 to Cheltenham, but to no more service there in the 
 ministry, having resigned his curacy while at Heidel- 
 berg. 
 
 While waiting for another charge he said: "If I 
 take work, it must be single-handed. I can no 
 
 255 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 longer brook to walk in leading strings (as curate to 
 a rector)." 
 
 He wrote to Wilberforce, then bishop of Oxford, 
 and asked for emplo^^ment. The bishop offered 
 him the charge of St. Ebbe's, Oxford, a church in 
 one of the worst parts of the town. He accepted 
 the charge, and immediately his preaching there 
 attracted attention. "The undergraduates, a sensi- 
 tive touchstone of a man's worth, dropped in one by 
 one at first, and then rushed to hear him in crowds." 
 Here for the first time he was entirely free, able to 
 say, without opposition from without, without a 
 shadow of inward restraint, the thing in his own 
 heart. Here, too, for the first time, perhaps, he 
 rested firmly on principles which he had secured at 
 the price of a terrible spiritual contest. He became 
 more peaceful. The dark shadow of failure began 
 to pass away." 
 
 Of the light into which he had come, and the 
 resulting assurance henceforth enjoyed by him he 
 thus speaks in his later letters: "I would not ex- 
 change the light I have for the twilight I have left 
 for all that the earth can give. Clearer, brighter 
 light every day and more assurance of what truth 
 is and whom I serve. I walk not in doubt but in 
 the light of noonday certainty." Of his pulpit 
 teaching thenceforward he says: "I could not tell 
 you too strongly my own deep and deepening con- 
 viction that the truths which I teach are true. 
 Every year they shed fresh light on one another and 
 seem to stretch into immensity. They explain to 
 me life, God, and the Bible; and I am certain that 
 
 256 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 what fresh Kght I shall receive will be an expansion 
 and not a contradiction of what I have. The prin- 
 ciples are rooted in human nature, God and the 
 being of things, and I find them at the root of every 
 page of Scripture." 
 
 The chief "principles" on which he taught were: 
 
 1. The establishment of ^positive truth instead 
 of the negative 4i^truction of error. ~ ^- 
 
 2. Spiritual truth is^d^_scerned by the spirit in- 
 stead of intellectually in propositions; and there- 
 fore truth should be taught suggestively not dog- 
 matically. 
 
 3. That belief in the human character of Christ's 
 humanity must be antecedent to belief in his divine 
 origin. 
 
 4. That Christianity, as its teachers should, works 
 from the inward to the outward, and not vice versa. 
 
 5. That truth is made up of two opposite proposi- 
 tions, and not found in a via media between the two. 
 
 6. The soul of goodness in things evil. 
 
 Mr. Robertson had been in charge of St. Ebbe's, 
 Oxford, only two months, when the rectorship of 
 Trinity Chapel, Brighton, was offered him. He 
 promptly declined it with its more ample salary and 
 larger prospect of influence, believing himself bound 
 in honor to stay where he was. He was induced, 
 however, by the trustees of Trinity to submit the 
 matter to his bishop, and the bishop advised him to 
 go. He accordingly entered upon his labors in 
 Brighton, August 15, 1847, in his thirty-second year. 
 
 Brighton is the great watering place of England. 
 If Cheltenham is like Saratoga, Brighton is like 
 
 17 257 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS ! 
 
 Atlantic City. It had the attractions and difficul- 
 ties of such a place. Some of the trials that had ' 
 afflicted him at Cheltenham vexed him still at i 
 Brighton. People of all religious schools frequented | 
 it, and the new rector of Trinity quickly attracted | 
 their attention. The conservative, critical hearers : 
 of the Evangelical School detected a new strange \ 
 % note in his preaching. His views of religious truth, j 
 his modes of stating Christian doctrines, his inter- j 
 pretation of the Scriptures, seemed to them not ; 
 only novel but at variance with the traditional belief j 
 of the Evangelical School, and they shook their 
 heads in disapproval. Soon after his coming, early 
 in the year of 1848, he began a course of lectures , 
 on the first book of Samuel. It will be remembered 
 that those were exciting times in England, and the 
 Continent of Europe was heaving with the throes 
 of political and social excitement and of incipient 
 revolution. In the exposition of that sacred book, j 
 and commenting upon the events recorded there, he j 
 had to treat of topics that were then engrossing ' 
 much thought, and eagerly discussed in England; \ 
 such topics as, the rights of rulers, the rights of i 
 property, the rights of labor, the brotherhood of \ 
 man, etc. Says his biographer; *Tt was not his | 
 fault that these lectures, running side by side with 
 the national convulsions and social excitements of \ 
 Europe and England, had a double interest, an | 
 ancient and modern one." A cry was raised against j 
 him. He was spoken of as a revolutionist and a ; 
 democrat. An anonymous letter was sent to the i 
 bishop accusing him of preaching on political sub- 
 
 258 I 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 jects in a manner calculated to disturb still more the 
 feelings of the workingmen of Brighton. He an- 
 swered, that "if the principles revealed in the in- 
 spired history of Israelitish society happened to be 
 universal, and to fit current events, it only proved 
 the deep inspiration and universal character of the 
 Bible, and he was not to be blamed." 
 
 He was charged with being a Radical in politics 
 and in religion. To this charge he thus replies in 
 a letter to a friend: "When I first heard the charge 
 of radicalism, I was astounded. I had tried to feel 
 the meaning of Christ's words and to make my heart 
 beat with His; and so I became what they call a 
 Radical. Nevertheless the Radicals and the Chart- 
 ists refuse to own me as a brother, and call me a 
 rabid Tory. However, of one thing I have become 
 distinctly conscious, that my motto for life, my 
 whole heart's expression, is, 'None but Christ'; 
 not in the (so-called) evangelical sense, which I 
 take to be the sickliest cant that has appeared since 
 the Pharisees bare record to the gracious words 
 that he spake, and then tried to cast him headlong 
 from the hill of Nazareth; but in a deeper real sense, 
 the mind of Christ; to feel as he felt; to judge the 
 world and to estimate the w^orld's maxims as he 
 judged and estimated. That is to feel 'none but 
 Christ.' But then in proportion as a man does 
 that, he is stripping himself of garment after garment, 
 till his soul becomes naked of that which once seemed 
 part of himself; he is not only giving up prejudice 
 after prejudice, but also renouncing sympathy after 
 sympathy with friends whose smile and approbation 
 
 259 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 was once his life, till he begins to suspect that he 
 will be very soon alone with Christ." 
 
 Through his preaching and because of his friendly 
 and sympathetic interest in the working classes, in 
 common with Kingsley and Maurice, he was charged 
 with Socialism, and heresy and general unsoundness. 
 The Record newspaper, the organ of Evangeli- 
 calism, which had expressed suspicions about him 
 when in Cheltenham, resumed its attacks. Refer- 
 ring to them in a letter to a friend he said: "God 
 forbid they should ever praise me. One number 
 alone contained four unscrupulous lies about me on 
 no better evidence than that some one had told 
 them, who had been told by some one else. They 
 shall have no disclaimer from me. If the Record 
 can put a man down, the sooner he is put down the 
 better. The only time I have ever said anything 
 about socialism in the pulpit has been to preach 
 against it. An evangelical clergyman admitted 
 some proofs I had given of the Record's dishonesty, 
 but said: 'Well, in spite of that, I like it, because 
 it upholds the truth, and is a great witness for reli- 
 gion.' Said I, Ts that the creed of Evangelicalism? 
 A man may be a liar and slanderous, and still uphold 
 the truth!' He felt an ineffable scorn for such a 
 Christianity as that, and denied with indignation 
 this claim that the Record, as the accredited organ 
 of the Evangelical party, having been admitted 
 by the confession of its own followers and supporters 
 to be convicted of flagrant falsehood and dishonesty, 
 could be said to "uphold the truth and be a great 
 witness for religion." He insisted, and rightly, 
 
 260 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 that it was untrue to Christ and false to its own 
 past history, and hence said, rather harshly perhaps, 
 "The evangehcaHsm (so-called) of the Record 
 is an emasculated cur, snarling at what is better 
 than itself." 
 
 If, in answer to his indignant inquiry, "Is that 
 the creed of evangelicalism?" the supporters of that 
 School assented, he did not hesitate to repudiate 
 it. He was justified in doing so, as much as Luther 
 and the Protestant Reformers were justified in 
 seceding from the corrupt Catholic Church of their 
 day. Dr. J. H. Jowett, in an admirable article 
 {The Congregationalist, June 10, 1912) on "Trust- 
 ing One's Instincts," rightly says, that in view of 
 Christ's standard of judgment, "By their fruits ye 
 shall know them": "We are not to be concerned 
 with the label but with the fruit. Men are to be 
 judged not by their professions, but by their charac- 
 ter, not by their theology, but by their life." We lay 
 the emphasis on the wrong thing, therefore, when we 
 rate what has been reckoned a sound theology above 
 a sound morality. Robertson, who had learned, 
 as we have seen, the mind of Christ, by studying 
 his teachings as few men of his time studied them, 
 laid the emphasis where Christ laid it, and the 
 religious world now reverences his memory for 
 doing so. 
 
 It is distasteful to us to revive the memories of 
 theological controversy with its bitter rancor and 
 resentments after the period of more than sixty 
 years, and when the participants in it have passed 
 "to the world that will decide," as Baxter says, 
 
 261 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 "all our controversies, and the safest passage thither 
 is by peaceable holiness"; but we are justified, we 
 think in doing so, since thus only can Robertson's 
 violent break with "Evangelicalism" be excused, 
 and the heated atmosphere of his environment at 
 Cheltenham and Brighton be understood. His 
 biographer speaks of "the intense sensitiveness 
 which pervaded his whole nature" and says it was 
 "the root of all that was peculiar in Robertson's 
 character and correspondence." "His senses, his 
 passions, his imagination, his conscience, his spirit, 
 were so delicately wrought that they thrilled and 
 vibrated to the slightest touch." Made morbid 
 by disease, it was unquestionably an infirmity which 
 sometimes betrayed itself especially in his letters to 
 intimate friends. He tried, however, conscientiously 
 to curb it, and he so schooled himself to patience 
 and self-control that he rarely, in public, said or 
 did anything unseemly. He held on to himself, that 
 as a Christian, he might show "the meekness and 
 gentleness of Christ." 
 
 But close observers discerned the truth. "His 
 very calm," Lady Byron said, "was a hurricane." 
 Rev. J. H. Jowett, D.D., calls this quality, however, 
 a weakness that was like St. Paul's thorn in the 
 flesh, which by God's grace turned to his advantage. 
 "Robertson of Brighton," he says, "was extremely 
 sensitive. He was easily jarred. His whole being 
 was as full of feeling as the eye. He prayed for 
 the removal of the infirmity, and the thorn remained. 
 But his prayer was answered. His very Weakness 
 was made the vehicle of strength. His sensitiveness 
 
 262 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 gave him his sense of awe and triumph in the pres- 
 ence of nature. It gave him his almost instinctive 
 sense of the characters of men. It gave him his 
 superlatively fine apprehension of the secrets of the 
 Most High. God gave him a sufiiciency of grace, 
 and through his apparent infirmity God's power was 
 made perfect." Falsehood and hypocrisy, cruelty 
 and oppression, the sin of the strong against the 
 weak, kindled his wrath, and his flaming indignation 
 expressed itself in stirring eloquence. But we 
 believe it was Christlike indignation, and that the 
 eloquence it inspired was wholesome for men to 
 hear. The people of Brighton soon realized it. 
 
 All classes were drawn to Trinity and it was 
 crowded to the doors. Henry Crabbe Robinson, Lady 
 Byron and other representatives of the literary class 
 and of the aristocracy were there, and servants and 
 w^orkingmen. Thoughtful and eager-minded men 
 came in from all parts of Brighton attracted not only 
 by his eloquence but by his original thought, clear 
 reasoning, and the ajffluence of his mind in illustra- 
 tions of the truth. "His mind was crowded with 
 images which he had received and arranged in a 
 harmonious order. With these he lit up the sub- 
 jects of his speech, flashing upon obstruse points the 
 ray of an illustration, and that with a fullness of 
 apt words, and with, at the same time, a reticence 
 which kept the point clear. He united in a rare 
 combination imaginative with dialectic power. He 
 felt a truth before he proved it; but this felt, then 
 his lo;^;ical power came into play. He disentangled 
 it from the crowd of images and thoughts that 
 
 263 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 clustered round it. He exercised a serene choice 
 over this crowd, and rejected what was supera- 
 bundant. There was no confusion in his mind. 
 Step by step he led his hearers, till at last he placed 
 them on the summit whence they could see all the 
 landscape of his subject in harmonious and con- 
 nected order. He clothed in fresh brightness the 
 truths which, because their garments were worn 
 out, men had ignorantly imagined to be exhausted. 
 He drew out the living inspiration of the Bible." 
 
 To his bishop he gave the following account of 
 his mode of preparing his sermons: "The word 
 extempore does not exactly describe the way I preach. 
 I first make copious notes; then draw out a form 
 (rough plan); afterwards write copiously, some- 
 times twice or thrice, the thoughts, to disentangle 
 them and arrange them into a connected whole; 
 then make a syllabus, and, lastly, a skeleton which 
 I take into the pulpit." 
 
 The sermons thus carefully premeditated and 
 prepared for delivery are, in the words of an intelli- 
 gent judge: "The bloom and wonder of modern 
 pulpit eloquence. They are charged so abundantly 
 with arrows of lightning to flash home conviction 
 on the conscience; they indicate such intense pro- 
 phetic earnestness; they contain such fearless 
 denunciations of evil, in high places and in low; they 
 manifest such sympathy on the part of their author 
 with the lowly, the hard working, the suffering and 
 the poor; they display such a mastery of the latest 
 European thought, so profound an acquaintance 
 with both the letter and the spirit of the Scriptures, 
 
 264 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 as of the innermost secrets of the life which is *hid 
 in God,' — its sorrows, its battling with doubts, its 
 triumph through clinging to the cross of Christ; 
 they disclose a creative ability to turn truisms into 
 living truths, or to convert the dry bones of orthodox 
 assertions into vital influences for the daily life, such 
 a grasp of great spiritual and historical principles, 
 such a power to sever the essential from the acci- 
 dental in the discussion of questions of Christian 
 casuistry, such wisdom and liberality in the treat- 
 ment of subjects like that of the Sabbath, that 
 Robertson must be pronounced, of all later Christian 
 public speakers, facile princeps.''^ 
 
 A wonderful thing about Robertson's sermons, 
 as we have remarked of those of some others, is 
 that they have not lost their interest and charm 
 because preached more than half a century ago. 
 They are not stale and juiceless; they are inspiring 
 and spiritually profitable still as the sermons of only 
 the greatest preachers are, like those of Chrysostom, 
 Cardinal Newman, Beecher and Brooks, and they 
 form a rich part of our literature. 
 
 His pulpit ministrations and his preaching are 
 thus described by persons who heard him: "I have 
 never heard the liturgy read as Mr. Robertson read 
 it. He carried its own spirit with him, and those 
 prayers, so often degraded by careless reading into 
 mere forms, were, from his voice, felt to be instinct 
 with a divine light and spirit. The grave earnest- 
 ness and well-weighed emphasis with which he read 
 the Gospel of the day were absolutely an exposition 
 of its meaning." 
 
 265 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 In preaching, "so entirely was his heart in his 
 words that he lost sight of everything but his subject. 
 He not only possessed, but was possessed by his 
 idea; and when all was over and the reaction came, 
 he had forgotten, like a dream, words, illustrations, 
 almost everything. <^ But though he was carried 
 away by his subject^ he was sufficiently lord over his 
 own excitement to prevent any loud or unseemly 
 demonstration of it. His gesture was subdued. 
 His voice, a musical, low, clear, penetrative voice, 
 seldom rose; and when it did, it was in a deep 
 volume of sound which was not loud, but toned 
 like a great bell. It thrilled, but not so much 
 from feeling as from the repression of feeling, and 
 his face glowed as alabaster glows when lit up by 
 an inward fire.^ And, indeed, brain and heart were 
 on fire. He was being self -consumed. Every ser- 
 mon in those latter days burnt up a portion of his 
 vital power." 
 
 His congregation was often enthralled, as by a 
 spell, by his preaching. One of his constant hearers 
 says: "I cannot describe in words the strange sensa- 
 tion, during his sermon, of union with him and 
 communion with one another which filled us as he 
 spoke. I used to feel as if every one in the con- 
 gregation must be thrilling with my emotion, and 
 that his suppressed excitement was partly due to his 
 consciousness of our excitement. Nor can I describe 
 the sense we had of a higher Presence with us as he 
 spoke, the sacred awe which filled our hearts, the 
 hushed stillness in which the smallest sound was 
 startling, the calmed eagerness of men who listened 
 
 266 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 as if waiting for a word of revelation to resolve the 
 doubt or to heal the sorrow of a life, the unexpected 
 light which came upon the faces of some when an ex- 
 pression struck home and made them feel, in a 
 moment of high relief from pain or doubt, 'this man 
 speaks to me and his words are inspired by God,' and 
 w^hen the close came and silence almost awful fell 
 upon the church, even after a sigh of relief from 
 strained attention had ceased to come from all the 
 congregation, I have often seen men so rapt that 
 they could not move till the sound of the organ 
 aroused them to the certainty that the preacher had 
 ceased to speak." 
 
 Such witchery of speech, with its entrancing 
 power, is a mark of the highest pulpit eloquence. 
 
 It is evident from these testimonies and a study of 
 his sermons, that Robertson possessed to a remark- 
 able degree the personal qualities of intensity of 
 feeling, sensitiveness to the power of truth, and a 
 receptive soul, responsive not only to truth's appeal 
 but to the events and questions of the time. "His 
 heart," says his biographer, "throbbed in response 
 to the music of the march of the world, always to 
 him a martial music. He spoke and thought best 
 when great events encompassed him." 
 
 At the same time he was not hurried away by a 
 hasty impulse; he was self -res trained and cautious. 
 "Before he gave a public opinion on any subject, he 
 studied it with care. He did not argue blindly on 
 the outside, but sought to attain the central point 
 of a question. But having come in this way to his 
 opinion, he was bold to avow it. He was loyal to 
 
 267 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 God and his truth, though he might suffer reproach 
 and ostracism because of it." 
 
 The conditions under which his ministry was 
 exercised were pecuHar and need to be considered, if 
 we would clearly understand and appreciate this 
 man's career and character. 
 
 (a) The External Contemporary Conditions 
 OF THE Times 
 
 1. It was a time of transition in theology. Through 
 the influence of German philosophy and Bible 
 criticism, translated into English and interpreted 
 by Coleridge and Carlyle and the Oxford scholars, 
 the old doctrinal statements and theories were 
 being questioned and discredited, and new theories 
 and statements sought for and attempted. At 
 such times there is usually much disquietude and 
 alarm, and the religious world is divided between 
 the liberals, who welcome inquiry and encourage 
 discussion of the various points at issue in the belief 
 that truth will be the gainer, and the conservatives, 
 who would stifle inquiry and repress discussion, for 
 fear that the truth will be the loser through decay 
 of faith consequent upon the shock that is given to 
 the popular mind concerning fundamental doctrines 
 whose interpretation is changed and credibility 
 thus shaken. Robertson, having passed through 
 the crisis involved in this transition during the 
 latter part of his stay at Cheltenham and the time 
 of his visit to the Tyrol and the weeks of sojourn 
 spent afterwards in Heidelberg just before going to 
 
 268 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 Brighton, and believing then that his own feet were 
 planted on solid ground, which it would be in the 
 interest of Christian truth and human happiness to 
 disclose, he with characteristic courage straightway 
 proclaimed his new views. *'Thus," we are told 
 *' within the short space of six months he put himself 
 into opposition with the whole accredited theological 
 world of Brighton on the questions of the Sabbath, 
 the Atonement, Inspiration and Baptism. He was 
 not one who held what are called liberal opinions 
 in the study, but would not bring them into the 
 pulpit. He w^ould not waver between truth to 
 himself and success in the world. He was offered 
 advancement in the Church, if he would abate the 
 strength of his expressions with regard to the Sab- 
 bath. He refused the proffer. Far beyond all other 
 perils which beset the Church, was, he thought, this 
 peril, that men, who were set apart to speak the 
 truth and to live above the world, should substitute 
 conventional opinions for eternal truths. He re- 
 spected his own conscience, believed in his own 
 native force and in the divine fire within him. He 
 endeavored to receive, without the intervention of 
 commentators, immediate impressions from ' the 
 Bible. To these impressions he added the indi- 
 vidual life of his own heart and his knowledge of 
 the life of the great world." 
 
 2. // was a time of transition in politics. It was 
 the time of the volcanic outburst of February, 1848, 
 in Paris, when Lamartine proclaimed a republic in 
 France, and the cry of "Liberty," ""Equality," and 
 "Fraternity" reached across the English Channel, 
 
 269 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and the demands involved in this outcry were being 
 eagerly discussed in England; the time of the Chart- 
 ist Movement and Kingsley's "Alton Lock" and 
 "Yeast"; the time of Cobden's agitation for the 
 abolishment of the oppressive Corn Laws, and the 
 establishment of the principle of Free Trade. Rob- 
 ertson's spirit shared the hopes of the English com- 
 mon people. He rejoiced, we are told, in the 
 prospective "downfall of old oppressions," and in 
 the "young cries of Freedom" thought he discerned 
 the sound of the Chariot of the Son of Man coming 
 to vindicate the cause of the poor." 
 
 He was, however, by birth and education an 
 aristocrat, like Wendell Phillips, and, therefore, 
 conservative in his tastes and feelings; but also, 
 like Phillips, he was by conviction and principle a 
 democrat, and, notwithstanding his aristocratic 
 leanings, advocated with all his powers of eloquence 
 the cause of the poor and oppressed, and devoted 
 himself to their welfare. By so doing he was de- 
 nounced as a revolutionist. He foresaw that this 
 would be the case. He says: "It brings no pleasure 
 to a minister of Christ. It makes him personal 
 enemies. It is ruin to his worldly interests and, 
 worse than all to a sensitive heart, it makes coldness 
 where there should be cordiality. Yet through life 
 I am ready to bear this." CHc "was not, however, 
 swept away into the allurmg current of socialism. 
 He systematically opposed socialism, on economical 
 and Christian grounds, as dangerous to the state 
 and destructive to the liberty it professed to confer.^ 
 His aristocratic tastes made it impossible he should 
 
 270 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 be a radical. The result was that, speaking at one 
 time like a Liberal, and at another like a Conserva- 
 tive he was misunderstood, and reckoned an enemy 
 by the extreme spirits of both parties." Conscious 
 of this discord in himself, he thought it marred his 
 usefulness. We think it caused him much unhappi- 
 ness, but made him to a considerable extent the 
 reconciler of ^parties. This belief is justified and 
 witnessed to by the inscription on the monument 
 erected to his memory in Brighton: "He awakened 
 the holiest feelings in poor and rich, in ignorant and 
 learned; therefore is he lamented as their guide 
 and comforter by many who in the band of brother- 
 hood have erected this monument." 
 
 3. It was a time of transition in the style of preax^h-^ 
 ing. He marks a new epoch in the methods of the , 
 . pulpit and in Homiletic literature. It is th e epoch_ "^ 
 \of textual analysis and interpretation. PlHTssermons 
 are worthy oTspecial study^because of the superior 
 method of construction used in them. He may be 
 said to have revived the old Scotch manner of preach- 
 ing; he introduced into England and carried to a 
 great degree of excellence, the textual and expository 
 methods used by Maclaren and carried by him 
 almost to perfection. We cannot help thinking 
 that Maclaren was a careful student of Robertson's 
 sermons, and adopted them as the models upon 
 which he fashioned his own pulpit work. Robert- 
 son's preaching was textual preaching of the best 
 sort. In it he adhered closely to the historic sense 
 of the sacred writers; aimed to know precisely, and 
 to convey to his hearers, their point of view and their 
 
 271 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 intention; and to set forth the full significance of 
 their teaching. 
 
 Never was there a preacher who conveyed to his 
 hearers a better or truer idea of the wealth of mean- 
 ing contained in the Scriptures. He had what a 
 German theologian calls "exegetical divination" 
 and what Dr. Brastow thinks may more approp- 
 riately be called "homiletic divination," a power of 
 insight into the ethical and spiritual suggestions of 
 the Scriptures. This natural power of spiritual 
 insight was aided and strengthened by his careful, 
 accurate scholarship, and the rich stores of informa- 
 tion garnered in his general reading. Everything 
 in him, his imagination, his vigorous reasoning 
 faculties, his opulant scholarship, his vivid appre- 
 hension of Christ, his personal experience of Christian 
 truth, which vitalized his whole being, contributed 
 
 to the Biblical suggestiveness of his sermons. 
 
 « 
 
 (b) Personal Conditions 
 
 1. Broken health. He performed his remarkable 
 work in Brighton handicapped by poor health. 
 His health was incurably shattered by his hard work 
 at Cheltenham, by his neglect of needed exercise, 
 and by the mental and spiritual distress caused by 
 his loss of faith in, and his breaking away from, the 
 traditional school of theology. He thus speaks of 
 himself just before entering on his work at Brighton: 
 "I have been very unwell, thoroughly done up, 
 mentally and bodily." Though he could say that, 
 by reason of the mountain air and hard exercise 
 
 272 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 found in the Tyrol, he had "got back something 
 Hke calmness and health again," he never really 
 recovered. He remained to the end of his days, 
 through all those six years in Brighton, a sorely 
 shattered man. He had been there scarcely six 
 months when he wrote to a friend: *Tn outward suc- 
 cess all looks well; consequently I work in good 
 spirits. But Sunday night, Monday, and all Tues- 
 day are days of wretched exhaustion, actual nervous 
 pain." "The excitement is killing. I begin to fear 
 I shall never keep it up." "Brighton air is wonderful, 
 but even that fails." In vain he tried to allay and 
 subdue this killing excitability by giving more 
 attention to exercise, and by placing himself under 
 the healing influence of Nature, by walking along 
 the edge of the cliffs by the sea and sitting down 
 where he could command a full view of sea and sky, 
 to soothe and cure the fever of his heart. He could 
 not get rid of it. It grew worse and worse. The 
 reaction from preaching left him sleepless, despond- 
 ent, wretched. 
 
 2. A Chronic Morbid Condition of Mind. The 
 wonder is that his mind was not paralyzed or other- 
 wise made incapable of work by his excitability. 
 But it seemed to give him a preternatural power of 
 thought and mental achievement. Some of his 
 finest sermons w^ere thought out when distress, it 
 might be supposed, "only gave him leave to feel." 
 He could concentrate his mind, however, upon his 
 work in the wildest hours of nervous excitement, 
 and the pain which racked his body and sensitive 
 soul like a spur to his genius made him most crea- 
 
 18 273 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 live. In these states of excitement he was most 
 brilliant and his most startling eloquence was pro- 
 duced. 
 
 He might, perhaps, have recovered, had he been 
 willing to favor himself; had he demanded, when he 
 found himself breaking down, a long release from 
 his work; or if, while continuing in the harness, he 
 had worked with moderation. But his vacations 
 were short, either from imagined necessity, or choice. 
 He never took more than a few weeks, when, as he 
 himself confessed, he was not fit for ministerial w^ork 
 and needed a protracted release from it. "I want 
 years and years to calm me," he said, "My heart is 
 too feverish — quivers and throbs as flesh recently 
 cut by the surgeon's knife." 
 
 In this invalid state of shattered nerves, tortured 
 body, and mental feverishness, he ought to have 
 avoided every unnecessary draft upon his energies, 
 and resolutely declined those extra burdens which 
 regard for thoughtless friendship or the desire to do 
 good prompted him to undertake. Had his friends 
 and admirers understood his case, how much he 
 needed rest, and how fatal every added task would 
 prove, they would never have wished him to per- 
 form for them those acts of service which ultimately 
 cost him and them so dear. But they did not 
 understand, and he would not tell them, and so in 
 the very time he was suffering from those dreadful 
 reactions from preaching, he performed tasks that 
 were destroying his chance to live and hurrying 
 him to his grave. He wrote long letters to explain 
 to inquirers the religious subjects he had discussed, 
 
 274 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 but had not made quite clear in his sermons; he 
 prepared Hterary lectures for the instruction or 
 financial profit of the Working Men's Institute; he 
 served on committees charged with framing the 
 policy of the Institute, and he was their adviser 
 when critical questions arose for their consideration. 
 He projected courses of expository lectures upon 
 different books of the Scriptures, which required 
 much special study in preparation, gave extra time 
 and labor in preparing a special Training Class of 
 the Church for Confirmation and Church Member- 
 ship; and, strangest of all, on Sunday evening, when 
 spent and weary with the day's preaching, he wrote 
 out for a friend from memory the sermons of Sunday 
 morning. "It was peculiarly irksome to him," his 
 biographer says, "but he did it freely and gladly 
 because impelled by friendship. He forgot the 
 toil, but the toil did not forget to produce its fruit 
 of exhaustion." 
 
 The world has profited by that sacrifice of friend- 
 ship. Those sermons thus reported, are most of v^ 
 them published as he wrote them, in the volumes \ 
 that were given to the world after his death, and 
 which created for him the world-wide fame as a 
 preacher he had not till then attained; but the pos- 
 session of this treasure, secured at such cost, is 
 associated in us with a feeling of pain at the thought 
 of the cruelty involved in lashing that jaded over- 
 worked spirit to the task. Not even our gratitude, 
 nor the fam^e which thus accrued to him, can make 
 that sacrifice seem right or an adequate compensa- 
 tion for the misery it cost him. 
 
 275 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 There is another thing he ought to have done. He 
 should have lived more in the society of friends and 
 his fellow men, instead of secluding himself from 
 them. But he yielded to the isolating influences 
 which one feels who is greatly misunderstood, mis- 
 represented, disapproved of, and censured for deviat- 
 ing from the beaten track of opinion, and for advo- 
 cating opinions that are new and supposed to be 
 dangerous. His sensitive soul smarted under the 
 harsh judgments pronounced against him as a 
 teacher of error and a friend of socialists, and he 
 withdrew more and more from society. This made 
 him suspicious and lonely and a sufferer of the ills 
 that visit a life of solitude. Instead of the strength 
 and inspiration of Christian fellowship, he experi- 
 enced the weakness and the depression of mind 
 consequent upon the feeling of being deserted. The 
 wonder is that this morbid conditon did not more 
 infect his sermons with gloom. In them there is 
 not much trace of it; his genuine piety preserved 
 them from it, but in his letters it breathes a sadness 
 and gloom which are painful. It is no wonder that 
 his body and mind could not endure long the oppres- 
 sion of it; that he died prematurely in the middle 
 of his thirty-eighth year, his death being preceded 
 by symptoms of distress and breakdown most 
 pathetic. "Somehow," he says in the last year of 
 his life, 'T cannot originate thoughts and subjects 
 now, as I used." "I shall not be able to go on much 
 longer if this continues; whole tracts of brain seem 
 to be losing their faculty and becoming quite torpid 
 and impotent; memory and grasp are both going, 
 
 276 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 and with an incessant call for fresh thought, this 
 feeling is a more than ordinarily painful one." These 
 and other tokens of mental failure that might be 
 gathered from his letters remind us of Luther's 
 remark concerning his mind when it had begun 
 through the long wear of theological conflict and 
 ceaseless toil to lose its power: "It is like an old 
 knife, the steel edge of which has been all worn 
 away from much and constant whetting." 
 
 More pathetic even than these signs of creeping 
 mental paralysis was his discouragement and depres- 
 sion of heart under the impression that his ministry 
 was a failure. For this he himself was partly, if not 
 entirely, to blame, on account of his manifested 
 repugnance to hearing, or receiving any commenda- 
 tion of his preaching, through which he might have 
 learned how much it helped and benefited his 
 hearers. "If," says his biographer, "he hated one 
 thing more than another it was the reputation of 
 being a popular preacher." So he coldly repelled 
 the grateful thanks of his hearers for the benefit 
 they had received, as if they were empty compli- 
 ments, fulsome flattery, which, as imputing to 
 him a childish vanity, no self-respecting preacher 
 can bear to listen to. Such applg^use galled and 
 stung him into galling words, and few cared to 
 provoke such an answer a second time. Thus 
 repelling and hushing the voices of praise with which 
 his friends and hearers longed to express their gratifi- 
 cation and gratitude for his sermons, he was wil- 
 fully blind to the unmistakable good they had 
 wrought. We wish that the sadness which oppressed 
 
 277 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 his heart could have been brightened by some pro- 
 phetic foresight of the marvelous appreciation and 
 world-wide enthusiasm those sermons were to pro- 
 duce when published after his death and the world 
 enjoyed the benefit of his ministry. Dr. Brastow 
 truly says: "He did not know how well he wrought. 
 He did not know the full import, reach, or measure 
 of his prophetic utterance. H6 did not know how 
 deeply he spoke into the lives of men. Never was 
 man more unconscious of what he was doing for 
 others, for the Church, for the world. It was in 
 much a sad history, but most precious for the multi- 
 tudes of needy men whom he has helped. More 
 fully than any other English preacher of his century 
 has he spoken the true prophetic word for hungry 
 and disquieted human hearts." (Brastow's "Modern 
 Representative preachers.") 
 
 It ought further to be said that like all preachers 
 who "have spoken the true prophetic word," Robert- 
 son was more than an eloquent preacher. He was 
 a seer; he possessed the spiritual insight and the 
 religious feeling which qualified him to be a pioneer 
 in a new advanced age of theological teaching. Like 
 Horace Bushnell and the two Beechers, besides the 
 admirable sermons he and they gave to us, he is to 
 be credited' with the wholesome "modernism" that 
 has characterized the Protestantism of this age as 
 well as the Roman Catholicism, and which signifies 
 the change in the religious ideas and spiritual appre- 
 hension of Christianity and its interpretation due 
 to the fresh and more scholarly study of the Scrip- 
 tures and the new light shed upon them by the 
 
 278 
 
FREDERICK W. ROBERTSON 
 
 development of modern science and the new psy- 
 chology of today. The Christianity of our times is 
 more practical than speculative; it emphasizes the 
 ethical side of the religious life, and the importance 
 of the ethical precepts of the New Testament, and 
 of the example and spirit of Christ as matters of 
 far more concern to Christians than the definitions 
 and dogmas of theology which in times past have so 
 much exercised the mind and interest of the Church. 
 This shifting of emphasis, unmistakable in the 
 thought of these times, and wholesome as most 
 men think, is largely due to Robertson and other 
 preachers of "the true prophetic word." As the 
 Old Testament prophets, Isaiah, Amos, Hosea and 
 others, saved ancient Judaism from the growing 
 narrowness and false interpretations of the Scribes 
 and Pharisees which were tending to falsify it as 
 the truth of God, so Robertson and his successors 
 in the same line have saved Christianity from errors 
 of doctrine and practice that were tending to stifle 
 its spiritual life and discredit it in the eyes of the 
 world. 
 
 279 
 
VIII 
 ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
vin 
 
 ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 1826-1001 " lO 
 
 Dr. McLaren is one of the greatest and most 
 interesting preachers of the last century. The re- 
 cent biography by his sister-in-law, published by 
 Hodder and Stoughton, gives us an interesting and 
 seemingly just account of his life and personal char- 
 acter, which is both trustworthy and complete. "In 
 this book," the author says in the preface, "Dr. 
 McLaren's name is spelt as he signed it, not Maclaren 
 as in his published works." 
 
 From the materials furnished by this biography 
 we derive the particulars in regard to the subject 
 of our sketch. He was born in Glasgow, Febru- 
 ary 11, 1826. He was the son of David and Mary 
 McLaren, and the youngest child in their family 
 of six. His parents were Christian people of the 
 Puritan type. His father, David McLaren, was a 
 business man but "eagerly devoted his leisure hours 
 to Christian work" — especially to preaching the 
 gospel. "He had many business anxieties," his 
 son says, "but his children remember to have heard 
 him say that when he began his preparation for 
 Sabbath on the Saturday afternoon, all his troubles 
 passed from his mind, and left him undisturbed 
 till Monday morning, when the fight was renewed." 
 
 283 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 "His ministry," his son adds, "was marked by much 
 intellectual vigor and clearness. It was richly script- 
 ural, expository, and withal, earnestly evangelistic. 
 Its key-note was: 'That which we have seen with 
 our eyes — and our hands have handled of the 
 word of life — we declare unto you.' His children 
 set on his tombstone the two words * steadfast, 
 unmoveable. 
 
 The father, like his son, was a Baptist, and Alex- 
 ander inherited from him, besides this denomina- 
 tional bias, mental and spiritual traits. 
 
 The mother, Mary Wingate, was a person, "whose 
 patient fortitude, calm wisdom and changeless love 
 were her husband's treasure for many years of 
 mingled sunshine and storm," and left a memory 
 "fragrant to her children." 
 
 Alexander went through the course of the High 
 school of Glasgow, and entered its University in 
 his fifteenth year, but he continued there only a 
 year because of the removal of his family to London. 
 In that one year, however, he distinguished him- 
 self by his superior scholarship, so that at its close 
 he received several prizes. "He remembered all 
 his life," we are told, "that prize giving. He was 
 seated far back, and the first time his name was 
 called he had to be waited for, so the Master re- 
 marked to the Lord Provost who presided, 'This 
 young gentleman has to appear so often that he 
 had better be accommodated with a seat nearer the 
 table.'" 
 
 Cambridge and Oxford in those days were not 
 open to Non-conformists, so after examination, he 
 
 284 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 entered, in 1842, the Baptist College at Stepney, 
 now transplanted to Regent Park, London. The 
 committee before whom he appeared were struck 
 with his boyish appearance and also with the ex- 
 cellence of his examination papers. 
 
 The principal of Stepney College at that time 
 was Dr. Benjamin Davis. To him Alexander 
 McLaren "owed his lifelong habit of patient, minute 
 study of the original, not only in the preparation of 
 sermons, but in his daily reading of Scriptures for 
 his own spiritual life." 
 
 It is proper that here we should speak of the 
 conscious beginning and development of his relig- 
 ious life. Of course, being the child of such Chris- 
 tian parents, he was the subject of early religious 
 impressions, but these did not crystallize into defi- 
 nite shape until, in those years of his boyhood, he 
 joined a Bible class taught by the Rev. David 
 Russell, a Congregational minister and afterward 
 his brother-in-law. In connection with this Bible 
 class Mr. Russell held some revival meetings which 
 he attended with the result that, "to him, under 
 God," Dr. McLaren said in his old age, "I owe the 
 quickening of early religious impressions into loving 
 faith and surrender, and to him I owe also much 
 wise and affectionate counsel in my boyish years." 
 He joined the Hope St. Baptist Church, Glasgow, 
 when fourteen years of age, and when, two or three 
 years later, he entered the Baptist College at Stepney 
 with its theological course of study, it was with 
 the purpose of preparing himself for the ministry. 
 Shortly before his death, he said: "I cannot recall 
 
 285 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ever having had any hesitation as to being a minister; 
 it seems to me it must have been simply taken for 
 granted by my father and mother and myself; it 
 just had to be." 
 
 Before he had completed his twentieth year, he 
 was sent by the authorities of Stepney College 
 to preach one Sunday, November 16, 1845, at 
 Portland Chapel, Southampton. His preaching 
 gave such satisfaction that he was invited to 
 preach there three months. The trial resulted in 
 a call by the church to be its pastor. The place 
 was not very inviting — the congregation was small 
 and the salary meagre, and the chapel had a 
 past history that was clouded with failure. But 
 he accepted the call notwithstanding, saying: "If 
 the worse comes to the worst, I shall at all 
 events not have to reflect that I have killed a 
 flourishing plant, but only assisted at the funeral 
 of a withered one." He began his pastorate there, 
 June 28, 1846, when he was but little more than 
 twenty years of age, and he remained in it twelve 
 years. For ten of those years he remained single, 
 working strenuously to build up his "poor little 
 congregation," which gradually but steadily grew 
 in numbers and influence. Later in life, when he 
 had become a famous preacher he said that he was 
 "thankful that the early part of his ministry had 
 been spent with such a church in a quiet corner 
 of England where he had leisure to grow and time 
 to think." "The trouble with most of you young 
 fellows," he said to a company of young ministers, 
 "is that you are pitchforked at once into prominent 
 
 286 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 positions and have to spend your time in attending 
 meetings, anniversaries, and even breakfasts, when 
 you ought to be at home studying your Bible." 
 
 His conception of the Christian ministry was that 
 it was preeminently a ministry of Christian truth, 
 and he applied himself diligently to the study of 
 the Christian Scriptures. He studied them not 
 only as presented in the best English versions, but 
 in the original Hebrew and Greek. This was evi- 
 dent from his manner of reading the Scriptures 
 in public worship, from the emphasis given to the 
 significant words, from the clear insight into their 
 real meaning revealed and the sympathetic inter- 
 pretation he gave of it because of his previous care- 
 ful study. *' Every day," we are told, "he read 
 a chapter in the Hebrew Old Testament and one 
 in the Greek New Testament." He was a careful 
 exigete of the Bible and on his careful exegesis 
 he based his illuminating expositions of its truth. 
 "The best lesson," says Dr. Parkhurst, "which 
 McLaren teaches the preachers of today is the neces- 
 sity of direct and absorbing work upon the Bible, 
 in order to be able to speak with interest and power; 
 and that the Bible only needs hard, faithful study 
 to yield that which will be most fresh, vivid and 
 interesting and helpful to our congregations." 
 
 Those years of his young manhood with that 
 small Southampton church were formative years, 
 years determinative of his destiny, as the first years 
 of a man's ministry usually are. In them his habits 
 of study and his methods of work were formed and 
 perfected; in them his conceptions and ideals of 
 
 287 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ministerial achievement were shaped and tested, 
 and in them his powers of thought and communi- 
 cation were developed to a very high degree of 
 excellence. He always endeavored to do his best. 
 He lavished upon that small congregation of humble 
 people the best efforts of a rarely gifted mind and 
 earnest soul. His development and progress were 
 therefore constant, rapid, remarkable. The people 
 of that early Southampton congregation watched 
 his growth w^ith interest, and keenly enjoyed the 
 benefit of it. Appreciating his worth, they fore- 
 cast the eminence that awaited him in the ministry, 
 and when he had reached the meridian of his power 
 and fame thought his preaching did not surpass 
 that of the days when he was their minister. His 
 preaching then, like Beecher's early preaching in 
 Indianapolis, had notes of eloquence that distin- 
 guished it in the glorious maturity of his later 
 years. 
 
 From the beginning, his constant aim, persever- 
 ingly adhered to and strenuously labored for, was 
 to perfect himself in the preacher's art, so as to 
 make himself a successful preacher of the gospel. 
 
 In his ministry, he magnified the preacher's 
 office and in his practice exalted it above the pastoral 
 office and its duties. Not that he underrated and 
 disparaged pastoral work; he commended and 
 honored it, indeed, in those who were specially 
 fitted for it; but he believed, that for himself preach- 
 ing was his special vocation and he endeavored 
 to fulfill it to the utmost of his ability. 
 
 In the fulfillment of it he adopted the following 
 
 288 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 method and principles of action, in preparation 
 for the pulpit: 
 
 "I began my ministry," he says, "with the reso- 
 lution that I would not wTite my sermons, but 
 would think and feel them, and I have stuck to it 
 ever since. It costs quite as much time in prepa- 
 ration as wTiting, and a far greater expenditure 
 of nervous energy in delivery, but I am sure that 
 it is best for me, and equally sure that everybody 
 has to find out his own way." He *'so saturated his 
 mind with his subject that facing his congregation, 
 looking into their eyes, his thoughts clothed them- 
 selves in suitable words." 
 
 But, as he further explains, though he resolved 
 not to write his sermons, he did not entirely dis- 
 card the help of the pen. "I write my sermons 
 in part," he says. "The amount of written matter 
 varies. When I can, I like to write a couple of 
 sentences or so of introduction, in order to get a 
 fair start, and for the rest I content myself with 
 jottings, fragmentary hints of a word or two each, 
 interspersed here and there w4th a fully written 
 sentence. Illustrations and metaphors I never 
 WTite; a word suffices for them. If I have heads, I 
 word these carefully and I like to write the closing 
 sentences. I do not adhere to w^hat is written, 
 as there is very little of it that is sufficiently con- 
 secutive. I make no attemp)t to reproduce more 
 than the general course of thought and constantly 
 find that the best bits of my sermon make them- 
 selves in preaching. I do adhere to my introductory 
 sentences, which serve to shove me off into deep 
 
 19 289 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 water; beyond that I let the moment shape the thing. 
 Expressions I do not prepare; if I can get the fire 
 ahght, that is what I care for most." "This is 
 my ideal," he says of the method thus sketched. 
 "A sufficiently scrappy one you will think, but I 
 am frequently obliged to preach with much less 
 preparation. The amount written varies from about 
 six or seven pages of ordinary note-paper to the 
 barest skeleton that would go in half a page." 
 
 If we had only this sketch to judge by, we might 
 fairly think him a careless workman. It seems to 
 indicate that he left much to chance and the hope 
 of a happy inspiration at the time of preaching, 
 instead of guarding by the most careful preparation 
 against the possibility of failure. But we should 
 make a great mistake if we should form such an 
 opinion of him or of his work. His seeming care- 
 lessness is that of conscious mastery of the condi- 
 tions of success. As a matter of fact, he left little 
 to chance; his preparation for preaching was so 
 thorough and painstaking that there was only the 
 smallest possibility of failure. Though he did not 
 write out his sermons, though his preparation seemed 
 limited to the making of a meagre outline, his pre- 
 vision of their contents was usually clear and cer- 
 tain. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, 
 though the precise language in which he was to 
 express his thought was not previously settled upon 
 and fixed in writing. He secured this unerring 
 certainty of thought and expression by the unwearied 
 patience and unstinted labor given to the previous 
 study and meditation of his themes. He thus ac- 
 
 290 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 quired an opulent mind, which never lacked good 
 things to say, nor words, tJie right words, to express 
 them. 
 
 In his preparation for the pulpit he observed 
 the following principles, which are gathered from 
 the interesting and instructive address, entitled 
 **An Old Preacher on Preaching" delivered in 1901 
 at the City Temple in London at a joint meeting 
 of the Baptist and Congregational Unions. The 
 principles enumerated shaped his preaching through 
 all his ministry. 
 
 (1) Deference to the teaching of God's word and 
 submission of mind to it as containing the truth which 
 the Christian minister is summoned to proclaim. 
 "This teaching of God is found in the Bible," and 
 makes its study supremely important . "A preacher, ' ' 
 he says, "who has steeped himself in the Bible 
 will have a clearness of out-look which will illu- 
 minate many dark things, and a firmness of touch 
 which will breed confidence in him among his hearers. 
 He will have the secret of perpetual freshness, for 
 he cannot exhaust the Bible." "Our sufficiency is 
 of God, and God's sufficiency will be ours in the 
 measure in which w^e steadfastly follow out the pur- 
 pose of making our preaching truly Biblical." 
 
 At his Ministerial Jubilee he said of his own en- 
 deavor: "I have tried to make my ministry a Minis- 
 try of Exposition of Scripture. I know that it has 
 failed in many respects, but I will say that I have 
 endeavored from the beginning to the end to make 
 that the characteristic of all my public work. I 
 have tried to preach Jesus Christ, and the Jesus 
 
 291 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Christ not of the Gospels only, but the Christ of 
 the Gospels and Epistles; He is the same Christ." 
 
 (2) Every 'preacher by independent study of the 
 Bible should ascertain for himself the truth of God 
 to be found in it. Dr. McLaren condemns those 
 
 4- who *'get their opinions" of Christian truth from 
 others instead of forming them for themselves. 
 "These opinions do not grow, are not shaped by 
 patient labor, but are imported into the new owner's 
 mind, ready-made in Germany or elsewhere, but 
 not in his own workshop." "We have need to 
 remember," he says, "the woes pronounced on two 
 classes of prophets; 'those who stole the word, 
 every man from his neighbor, and those who proph- 
 esied out of their own hearts, having seen nothing 
 and heard no voice from on high.' We have to 
 be sure that we stand on our own feet and see with 
 our own eyes; and on the other hand we have to 
 see that the Word, which is in that sense our own, 
 is in a deeper sense not our own but God's. We 
 have to deal at first hand with Him and to suppress 
 self that He may speak." 
 
 (3) The habit of brooding over a text or passage of 
 Scripture in a devout spirit to ascertain its teaching is 
 illuminating and profitable. "This is sometimes 
 
 ^ called the 'incubation of a text' and often results 
 in rich and surprising disclosures of meaning. As 
 one reads or listens, he says, 'Yes, that was all in 
 the text. Why had no one discovered it before.'^' 
 We need for the prophet's office much secluded fel- 
 lowship with God, who 'wakens' his servant's ear 
 morning by morning and gives him ' the tongue of 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 them that are taught.' No man will ever be the 
 Lord's prophet, however eloquent or learned he may 
 be, unless he knows what it is to sit silent before 
 God and in the silence to hear the still, small, most 
 mighty voice that penetrates the soul, and to the 
 hearing ear is sweet as harpers harping with their 
 harps and louder than the noise of many waters." 
 
 His power of productive thinking became at 
 length spontaneous. The subject definitely fixed 
 upon, whether of sermon or address, " it goes simmer- 
 ing through my head wherever I am." 
 
 At the request of his friend. Prof. T. H. Pattison, 
 Professor of Homiletics in the Rochester Theo- 
 logical Seminary, he wrote to the students there 
 this word of counsel: "I sometimes think that 
 a verse in one of the Psalms carries the whole pith 
 of homiletics — 'While I was musing the fire burned, 
 then spake I with my tongue.' Patient medita- 
 tion, resulting in kindled emotion and the flashing 
 up of truth into w^armth and light CI must give 
 it red-hot,' he said) and then, and not till then, 
 the rush of speech 'moved by the Holy Ghost' — 
 these are the processes which will make sermons 
 live things with hands and feet, as Luther's words 
 were said to be. May I add another text, which 
 contains as complete a description of the contents 
 as the psalm does of its genesis? 'Whom we preach' 
 there is the evangelistic element, which is founda- 
 tion of all, and is proclamatioti with the loud voice, 
 the curt force, the plain speech of a herald; and there 
 is, too, the theme, namely, the Person, not a set of 
 doctrines, but a Person whom we can know only 
 
 293 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 by doctrines, and whom, if we know, we shall surely 
 have some doctrine concerning. * Warning every 
 man' — there is the ethical side of preaching; and 
 * teaching every man' — there is the educational 
 aspect of the Christian ministry. These three 
 must never be separated, and he is the best minister 
 of Jesus Christ, who keeps the proportion of them 
 most clearly in mind and braids all the strands 
 together in his ministry into a ' three-fold cord, not 
 quickly broken.' 
 
 (4) The minister needs to bring the truth thus found 
 to the test of his own experience. This was not only 
 a fine theory with him, it was confirmed and acted 
 upon continually by him in his practice. His 
 preaching was that of a spiritually-minded witness 
 to the truth he proclaimed. *' I have always found, " 
 he says, "that my own comfort and efficiency in 
 preaching have been in direct proportion to the 
 frequency and depth of my daily communion with 
 God. 'I have tried to preach Christ' as if I be- 
 lieved in him. The root of all is that we ourselves 
 should feed on the truth we preach to others. The 
 preacher has need of the personal element in his 
 message; he has to speak as one who has felt the 
 rapture of the joyful news which he proclaims." 
 
 This principle, we have repeatedly said, is essential 
 to the preacher's greatest success. It cannot be 
 too often or too strongly insisted upon. "Some 
 preachers fail in the pulpit," says a thoughtful and 
 sagacious observer, "because the truths uttered 
 are not first vitalized in the seed-plot of a living 
 experience. Such preachers are dry and unim- 
 
 294 
 
r 
 ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 pressive. What they have to teach is truth per- 
 haps, but truth second-hand, with no stamp of 
 individuality, or certification of its genuineness 
 derived from the preacher's own verification of it. 
 On the other hand, the simplest truth drawn fresh 
 from the well-head of a living experience carries 
 with it an unmistakable stamp of personal attesta- 
 tion and genuineness. It has a strange power of 
 attraction and impression. Even the most cap- 
 tious cease to cavil when they hear it, silenced and 
 awed by the demonstration of the spirit thus given 
 it. 
 
 A sermon from a preacher of this sort is what 
 Alexander Knox says every sermon should be, 
 "a cordial communication of vitalized truth." The 
 sermons of McLaren were of this kind. We have 
 the proof of it in his conception of the work of the 
 ministry and the qualifications he demanded of the 
 preacher. Besides declaring, as just quoted, that 
 '*the preacher has need of the personal element 
 in his message," he says, *'The preacher is spoken 
 of in the New Testament as a 'herald'; this title 
 implies that his proclamation be plain, clear, assured. 
 He is not to speak timidly, as if diverse winds of 
 doctrine had blown back his voice into his trumpet. 
 He needs to deliver his good new^s with urgency, 
 as if it was of some moment that people should 
 know and accept it. Is that note of urgency audi- 
 ble, as it should be, in our preaching? 
 
 '*The evangelist has also need of tenderness. *We 
 entreat as though God did beseech by us.' What 
 outgush of sympathetic yearning can be too great 
 
 295 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 fitly to bear on its current the message of a love 
 which died to save? Are we not too little accuse- 
 tomed to preach with our hearts?" 
 
 (5) He took scrupulous care in his preaching to 
 convey to his hearers the exact truth of God which he 
 had learned. *'The preacher is not to bring an 
 ambiguous message in cloudy words," is one of 
 his pithy sayings. He therefore aimed to be just 
 to the sense of his text. Dr. John Brown says 
 that in his earlier ministry Dr. McLaren's fastidi- 
 ousness in the choice of words led him sometimes, 
 when preaching, to pause until he found fitting 
 expression for his thought, refusing to accept any 
 but the best language in which to clothe his ideas. 
 Practice after a while gave him readiness and skill 
 in the use of that choice, flexible, clear English 
 style, which distinguishes to a remarkable degree 
 his published sermons, none of which he permitted 
 to be published until he had reached his full maturity. 
 
 (6) He bestowed much labor and pains upon the 
 plans of his sermons. The basis of his sermon plan 
 is usually a careful textual analysis with a large 
 element of exposition. His introductions are gen- 
 erally models of careful, skillful exposition. His 
 topics and divisions , are solidly based upon the re- 
 sults of his analysis and careful exegesis. In his 
 handling of the text, "you may be sure that the 
 meaning he gives is, so far as he can find it, honestly 
 derived from the Scripture passage used and not 
 unfairly forced upon it." There is often great 
 felicity in his interpretation and statements of 
 the teaching of his texts. Examples: sermons 1, 
 
 296 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 19, 21 of the first series of "Sermons preached in 
 Manchester." 
 
 The partitioning of his discourse on the Knes made 
 by his textual analysis is the work of a master- 
 workman. It is at once evident that we have no 
 careless bungler here. On this account when he 
 had attained the maturity of his powers and per- 
 fection of his skill, because of the value of his work 
 as affording the best models of homiletic skill and 
 achievement, McLaren was called" the Preachers' 
 Preacher," i.e., a preacher such as they especially 
 appreciate, and whom they find it profitable to study 
 for the superiority of his method and the inspiring 
 excellence of his work. 
 
 Preparing himself for his pulpit by this method 
 and in accordance with these working principles 
 he became, even while in Southampton, a marked 
 man in the Baptist religious body; so that when 
 the important church in the Union Chapel, Man- 
 chester, was left without a pastor, in 1858, he was 
 called to its service, and ministered to it until 1903, 
 a period of forty-five years. Entering upon his pas- 
 torate there at the age of thirty-two and continu- 
 ing in it to the age of seventy-seven, his long 
 ministry to that church and congregation had, of 
 course, its different stages: its stage of early increas- 
 ing splendor, of meridian glory, and of slowly waning 
 brightness like that of the late afternoon; but from 
 first to last it was a great and most successful min- 
 istry. "Perhaps no preacher," said Sir William 
 Robertson Nicoll concerning him when near the end 
 of it, "has ever ploughed so straight and sharp 
 
 297 
 
 r- 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 a furrow across the field of life, never looking aside, 
 never turning back, maintaining his power and his 
 freshness through all the long years that stretch 
 between his early beginning and the present day." 
 Other testimonies as to his greatness as a sermon- 
 maker and preacher might be quoted by the score. 
 At his Ministerial Jubilee it was the general opin- 
 ion expressed by the letters received and the ad- 
 dresses heard, that Dr. McLaren had "enriched 
 the pulpit literature of our times with treasures 
 which the Christian Church will not willingly let 
 perish." 
 
 Especially striking and specific is the testimony 
 of an eminent American preacher, Dr. Parkhurst 
 of New York. He sa^^s: "Roaming about a theo- 
 logical library, a volume of 'Sermons preached in 
 Manchester' caught my eye. We opened by chance 
 and began to read. The sermon was upon Heb. 
 12: 1. (19th sermon, first series of the "Sermons 
 in Manchester"). Surely it was a find to us! It 
 brought just the message which we had long needed 
 and been unconsciously seeking. That sermon 
 wrought a revolution in our apprehension of Christi- 
 anity, and in our preaching. When we planned 
 to cross the Atlantic, we said, ' We will see and hear 
 McLaren,' and we did it, going two hundred miles 
 for the purpose. 'The Union Chapel' was a brick 
 building seating fifteen hundred people. Two thous- 
 and were packed into it that day, the people crowd- 
 ing in chairs close up to and back of the pulpit. 
 The preacher then was in his sixty-first year. In 
 personal appearance he was thin, tall, spare, with an 
 
 298 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 attractive face. When young he must have been 
 a handsome man. He did not look clerical. He 
 wore no pulpit gown, not even the ministerial white 
 cravat. In preaching he had no manuscript or 
 notes before him. In the introduction he clearly 
 announced his subject, and told his hearers how, 
 i. e., in what order, he proposed to present it. Soon 
 his subject possesses him and he takes fire. His 
 thought transforms him. His voice becomes reso- 
 nant, tender, impressive. It seems as if God was 
 speaking to you. Every person in the house is 
 held in solemn and impressive awe of the truth. 
 *That is preaching,' I said, 'and we have not 
 heard the like in Europe.' " 
 
 Further evidence of his greatness is found in his 
 skillful application of the gospel to men. He wrought 
 out for himself, and for the use of the ministry, 
 in his published sermons, the best explication we 
 know of the plan of salvation disclosed in the New 
 Testament. "It is here," says Dr. John Brown, 
 "that Dr. McLaren's distinctive excellence as a 
 preacher shows itself. Through a long public life 
 he has been a continuous, profound, accurate and 
 prayerful student of God's revelation, and at the 
 same time a close observer of the actual facts of 
 religious experience as found in the living men and 
 women of the church of God. In this way he has 
 attained to something like a clear and coherent 
 science of that spiritual life which is derived from 
 Christ and maintained by the spirit of God; and 
 as we might expect from the character of the man 
 this science underlies all his teaching. " (See "Puri- 
 
 299 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 tan Preachers and Preaching," Yale Lectures by- 
 John Brown D.D.) 
 
 Examples of Dr. McLaren's doctrinal teaching 
 are found in sermons 8, 9, 10, 11 and 20 of the third 
 series of "Sermons preached in Manchester." In 
 these sermons, and others, we are shown how "the law 
 of the spirit of life in Jesus Christ sets us free from 
 the law of sin and death"; and how "the word of 
 Gods' grace is able to build men up and to give 
 them an inheritance amongst all them that are 
 sanctified." For a clear and succinct statement 
 of this "Science of Spiritual Life," as formulated 
 by Dr. McLaren, we refer to Dr. Brown's instruc- 
 tive study of him. Though possibly called "ob- 
 solete theology" by some, it is, to many others, 
 nevertheless as vital and enduring as the teaching 
 of the New Testament and of human experience. 
 
 What were the personal qualities which have 
 made Dr. McLaren so great a preacher? We find 
 the following spoken of or clearly indicated by his 
 published sermons: 
 
 (1) An impressive personal presence and delivery 
 in the pulpit. "He has a face," says Professor 
 Pattison, "which, in its profile, at times suggests 
 that of Dante; eyes of wonderful luster and depth; 
 a tall lithe figure; appropriate and effective gesture; 
 and a varied voice, which, while retaining enough 
 of the Scottish accent to make it pathetic, is more 
 remarkable for its power to give a sharp and crisp 
 accentuation to certain words." 
 
 An Australian journalist, describing his preaching, 
 when Dr. McLaren visited that continent, says: 
 
 300 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 "A wondrously pathetic little bit in the sermon 
 about Abraham and Isaac going up Moriah will 
 not soon be forgotten. Here the voice changed, 
 softened and seemed to linger over the words: 
 'Where is the lamb?' While the answer, 'My son, 
 God will provide himself a lamb,' was like the wail 
 of a breaking heart." 
 
 Such power of managing the voice, so as to give 
 to striking situations and utterances a deep, lasting 
 impression and a haunting lodgment in the memory, 
 is rare in public speakers and of great value. 
 
 (2) Sanity of mind. By reason of this, his views 
 of Christian truth and its application to human 
 needs and diverse situations were always marked 
 by justness and sobriety. The truth has received 
 no distortion, or refraction, or false coloring, in its 
 passage through his mind because of any morbid 
 tendency or eccentricity. His estimates and state- 
 ments are fair and trustworthy, and his hearers 
 are inspired with confidence in him because of his 
 obvious candor and justness. They do not think 
 it necessary to discount and modify what he says, 
 to obtain the real truth. 
 
 (3) Penetration, whereby he discerned the hidden 
 treasures of truth and its manifold implications. His 
 natural power of penetration was doubtless increased 
 and quickened by his constant study of the Bible, 
 and his much thinking upon its truth. "The en- 
 trance of God's word giveth light," and "in His 
 light w^e see light." 
 
 (4) Keen religious sensibility. This gave warmth 
 and intensity to his religious feelings and his utter- 
 
 301 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 ances of Christian truth, caused him to kindle easily 
 in the presence of a congregation for whom he had, 
 as he thought, an important divine message, and 
 made his sermons aflame with energy and persuasive 
 appeal. This sensibility to truth and eagerness 
 to impart it to men and persuade them to heed 
 it, is the orator's distinctive gift, and Professor 
 Pattison says of McLaren: "He has what is rare 
 in the preacher, the scholar's mind coupled with 
 the orator's heart." It is a quality, however, that 
 distinguishes all great preachers. 
 
 (5) Another quality, which he possessed in com- 
 mon with other great and popular preachers, was 
 a lively and fruitful imagination, with which to il- 
 lustrate and glorify the Christian truth he presented. 
 "In freshness and fertility of illustration," says 
 Professor Pattison, "he is unexcelled by any con- 
 temporaneous preacher." We find ample proof 
 of this in his published sermons. Metaphors and 
 similes of a striking and beautiful kind abound 
 in them. You can scarcely find a sermon, in which 
 there is not found, pictured in full, or suggested, 
 some impressive image that adorns and makes 
 memorable the truth set forth. Read over the 
 8th, 9th, 20th, and 21st sermons of the first series 
 of the "Sermons Preached in Manchester"; or 
 the 1st, 2d, and 20th of the third series, for ex- 
 amples. Note the variety and the originality of 
 his illustrations and the different fields from which 
 he derives them. He makes nature, art, history, 
 and the scenes of man's common toil, all tributary 
 to his purpose to explain and exalt the truth. We 
 
 302 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 here give a few specimens: "You and I write our^ 
 lives as if on one of those 'manifold' writers which 
 you use. A thin filmy sheet here, a bit of black 
 paper below it; hut the writing goes through wpon the 
 next page, and when the blackness that divides two 
 worlds is swept away, there, the history of each 
 life remains legible in eternity." 
 
 "The only question worth asking in regard to ^ 
 the externals of our life is, 'how far does each thing 
 help me to be a good man.^' And to care whether 
 a thing is painful or pleasant, is as absurd as to care 
 whether the brick layer's trowel is knocking the 
 sharp corner off a brick, or plastering mortar on 
 the one below it before he lays it carefully on its 
 course. 'Is the building getting on?' That is the 
 one question that is worth thinking about." 
 
 "If we have once got hold of the principle thab/ 
 all which is, summer and winter, storm and sun- 
 shine, possession and loss, memory and hope, work 
 and rest, and all the other antitheses of life, is 
 equally the product of His (God's) will, equally 
 His means for our discipline; then we have the 
 amulet and talisman which will preserve us from 
 the fever of desire and the shivering fits of anxiety 
 as to things that perish. As they tell us of a Chris- 
 tian Father (Bernard of Clairvaux), who, travel- ^ 
 ing by one of the great lakes of Switzerland all 
 day long on his journey to the church council that 
 w^as absorbing his thoughts, said toward evening 
 to the deacon who was pacing by him, 'Where is 
 the Lake.^' So you and I, journeying along the 
 margin of this great flood of things when wild 
 
 303 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 storm sweeps across it or when the sunbeams ghnt 
 upon its waters and *' birds of peace sit brooding 
 on the charmed wave," shall be careless of the 
 changeful sea, if the eye looks beyond the visible 
 and beholds the unseen, the unchanging real pres- 
 ences that make glory in the darkest lives and 
 * sunshine in the shady places.' " "^ 
 
 The greatest value of such imaginative power 
 in the preacher combined with his religious sensi- 
 bility and emotion to intensify it, is that hy it he 
 is able to invest familiar and commonplace truths 
 with fresh charm and potency, and thus renew or 
 keep perpetually alive their practical influence 
 over the heart. Most religious truth after a while 
 becomes trite and commonplace ; on this account men 
 are in danger of neglecting it, But if men neglect 
 it, before they have acted upon it and wrought 
 its saving and sanctifying virtue into their hearts 
 and lives, they do so at their peril. Happy and 
 most useful, therefore, is the preacher who has the 
 power of rescuing men from that peril by preserv- 
 ing through his imaginative charm the practical 
 influence of the truth. Example; 2d sermon, third 
 series of "Sermons Preached in Manchester"; "The 
 Bitterness and Blessedness of Brevity of Life." 
 
 (6) He possessed a thoughtful and suggestive mind. 
 Dr. Joseph Parker, speaking of him, says: ''He 
 always says something to his people, something that 
 sticks. In this respect he is much superior to Spur- 
 geon. He thinks more and better." He is not 
 merely a preacher, occasionally, of great sermons, 
 like Professor Park and Robert Hall; but an in- 
 
 304 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 exhaustively productive preacher of good sermons; 
 sermons which as a rule made a powerful impres- 
 sion, and made it for the truth he preached and 
 not chiefly for the preacher. His native capacity 
 for strong, rich thoughts was strengthened by his 
 habits of brooding over his truth and of careful 
 elaboration of it in preparation for preaching. 
 Schooling himself, as he did, to "use, as his first 
 and chief organ of expression of thought, not the 
 pen but the tongue," the wonder is that he was 
 able in the premeditation of his sermons to exact 
 from his mind so much genuine, prolonged, con- 
 secutive thinking. It implied great native mental 
 ability perfected by the discipline of education and 
 held to its work by the most determined will. As 
 examples of clear, admirable and just thinking, 
 study the 13th and 23d sermons, of the third series 
 of the "Manchester Sermons." Because of this qual- 
 ity we do not know of any sermons that better de- 
 serve, or would better repay careful study than Dr. 
 McLaren's. They are valuable for their wealth 
 of Biblical truth adorned with great learning and 
 a chastened imagination; for their exemplification 
 of the highest homiletic skill, and for the convincing 
 proof they afford to any intelligent, fair-minded 
 reader, that a sermon, ideally considered, instead 
 of being a dull, vapid talk, or a heavy essay, as 
 is commonly supposed, may be, and often is a de- 
 lightful, uplifting, profitable discourse well worth 
 a man's thoughtful attention. 
 
 (7) He "possessed an invincible faith in the perma- 
 nent value and importance of the preacher s office. 
 
 20 305 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 As God had appointed that men should be saved 
 by the preaching of the gospel, Dr. McLaren could 
 not be made to think that this office would ever 
 become useless and the pulpit effete. "The teaching 
 office of the preacher is depreciated," he said, "as 
 being superseded by the hundred- voiced press. 
 But granting the influence of the press, if this 
 supersedes the pulpit, it is the fault of the occupant 
 thereof. A certain minister once told a shrewd old 
 Scotch lady that he was engaged to deliver an 
 address on the power of the pulpit, and asked what 
 her views on the subject were. She answered: *The 
 power of the pulpit! That depends on wha's in 
 it, ' which is a truth to be laid to heart by all preach- 
 ers. No man is superseded but through his own 
 deficiencies. There must be weakness in the wall 
 which the storm blows down. The living voice has 
 all its old power today, when it is a voice and not 
 an echo, or a mumble. If a man has anything 
 to say, and will say it with all his heart, and with 
 all his soul, and with all his strength, he will not lack 
 auditors. Books have their province, and preachers 
 have theirs, and neither can efface the other, or 
 supply the place of the other." 
 
 In this confidence he worked on with unflagging 
 zeal. His wife, who was his cousin, Marion 
 McLaren, contributed much to his success. They 
 were married March 27, 1856, while he was yet in 
 Southampton. She gave to the last two years of 
 his ministry there its crowning grace, and in Man- 
 chester for more than a quarter of a century she 
 greatly helped him. 
 
 306 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 Writing in his old age to Sir William Robertson 
 Nicoll in regard to a sketch of his career in the Brit- 
 ish Monthly, he said of his wife: "I would fain that ^ 
 in any notices of what I am, or have been able to 
 do, it should be told that the best part of it all 
 came and comes from her. We read and thought 
 together, and her clear, bright intellect illumined 
 obscurities and 'rejoiced in the truth.' We worked 
 and bore together, and her courage and deftness 
 made toil easy and charmed away difficulties. She 
 lived a life of nobleness, of strenuous effort, of as- 
 piration, of sympathy, self-forgetfulness and love. 
 She was my guide, my inspirer, my corrector, my 
 reward. Of all human formative influences on my 
 character and life hers is the strongest and best. 
 To WTite of me and not to name her is to present 
 a fragment." 
 
 Their union was ideal. When she was taken from 
 him December 21, 1884, he was stunned at his loss, 
 and life seemed robbed of its chief charm. In the 
 words of Browning: "The soul of his soul had been 
 taken from his side. " 
 
 The first of the three stages of McLaren's Man- 1| 
 Chester ministry was from 1858 to 1875, when he 
 was chosen president of the Baptist Union, the 
 highest dignity that a Baptist minister can attain 
 in England. He was then but forty-nine — younger 
 than anyone ever previously chosen. The office 
 was never given to anyone but a man of first rank. 
 What had been the achievements which won for 
 him this honor .^ Besides the good work done in 
 Southampton that had attracted the attention 
 
 307 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of Union Chapel, Manchester, the following things 
 in Manchester: In the first place he soon gained 
 there a great increase of reputation as a preacher. 
 Before long it became noised abroad through the 
 city that a remarkable preacher had come to them. 
 "Very soon," says his biographer, "the congrega- 
 tion ceased to be drawn from the immediate neigh- 
 borhood. Listeners came from all parts of the city 
 and beyond it. Some came in carriages, very many 
 came on foot. There were no tram cars or bicycles 
 in those days, but many a young clerk or student 
 who worked hard through the week found his way 
 by 10.30 a. m. to Union Chapel, and left it 
 refreshed in spirit and resolved to come again." 
 
 The church grew in numbers and vitality. On 
 account of the increase of numbers the chapel which 
 he found there became much too strait for them and 
 a new chapel of much larger capacity and superior 
 equipment for their flourishing work was built after 
 he had been with them eleven years. His people 
 felt the pressing need of it long before its erection, 
 — but he rather discouraged the undertaking. He 
 feared that the new chapel "would be half -empty." 
 The chapel was opened, however, for worship in 
 November, 1869, and from the first it was crowded. 
 "The congregations," we are told, "were as remark- 
 able for their composition as for their size. They 
 contained men of all classes and creeds, rich and 
 prosperous merchants, men distinguished in pro- 
 fessional life, and others working their way toward 
 success. Young men from the offices and warehouses 
 of the city sat side by side with artisans. Strangers 
 
 308 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 were attracted in large numbers, among them 
 clergymen and dignitaries of the Established Church, 
 Non-conformist ministers, literary men, artists and 
 students from the theological colleges." 
 
 As a result of the growth and "vitality" of his 
 church, missions sprang up in the neighborhood 
 like offshoots around a flourishing tree. These 
 were "chiefly staffed and supported by the Union 
 Chapel congregation." His influence was so great 
 and inspiring that volunteers for the work in every 
 case and ample funds to sustain it were easily 
 raised. He only needed to point out a good chance 
 for Christian service to have it embraced by those 
 he deemed fit to undertake it and able to support it. 
 Besides having a kind of oversight of these off- 
 shoots from his church he showed such an interest 
 in the small and feeble churches in his vicinity that 
 they began to flourish under the stimulating con- 
 sciousness of his regard for them. "Gradually with- 
 out his even thinking of it," says his biographer, 
 "he did very much the work of a 'bishop,' and his 
 diocese was not a small one." He became first of 
 "the three mighties" of his ministerial association. 
 "No one was so frequently elected to preach the asso- 
 ciation sermon, to write the circular letter or to take 
 a prominent part in the meetings as Dr. McLaren. 
 Ministerial recognition services were considered 
 sadly incomplete if he could not be present, and the 
 joy of the opening or re-opening of a chapel was 
 sensibly diminished when he could not preach one 
 of the sermons." He was in demand for special 
 occasions there in Manchester, and in London. 
 
 309 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 In the great Free Trade Hall of Manchester he 
 first spoke at the annual meeting of the City Mis- 
 sion in 1860 at the same time that Joseph Parker 
 made his debut there. The two men, we are told, 
 were striking contrasts to one another in appear- 
 ance and in what they said, but both arrested at- 
 tention from the very first and retained it. It 
 was not long before he became an object of enthusi- 
 astic love and admiration for the whole city — its 
 pride, as giving distinction to Manchester. "He 
 never, perhaps, took part in a meeting in the Free 
 Trade Hall when the large building was not filled to 
 its utmost capacity, and for years before the close 
 of his career almost invariably the immense audi- 
 ence rose to receive him and cheer enthusiastically." 
 
 He was in\ated to preach before the London 
 Missionary Society, at its annual meeting held 
 in old Surrey Chapel, the scene of many noted 
 gatherings. The sermon given had for its subject 
 "The Secret of Power." Though it was more than 
 fifty years ago, there are some still living who were 
 present on the occasion and remember "the awed 
 attention of the great congregation." x\mong those 
 who came into the vestry to greet him after the 
 service was Dr. Binney, who, when McLaren was 
 a young minister at Southampton had visited and 
 preached for him, and given him such an insight 
 into the art of preaching by his talk and the ex- 
 ample of his sermon, that he said many years after- 
 wards, "it was Binney taught me to preach." 
 McLaren, noticing his entrance, came forward to 
 meet him, and they silently clasped each other's 
 
 310 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREX 
 
 hands, both faces eloquent with emotion. The 
 pupil had surpassed his master; for Binney felt, 
 as he afterwards told a friend, that he himself "had 
 fallen so far short of the ideal that had been placed 
 before him, he had never even seen it as an ideal." 
 The sermon gives the title to one of McLaren's 
 published sermons. It is a remarkable sermon. 
 Few Christians can read it T^-ithout being thrilled 
 by its thought and spiritual "power," though such 
 was his humility that he never would have thought 
 of himself as an example of it. 
 
 By the end of the first stage in his Manchester 
 ministry, McLaren's manner and style of preaching 
 had become formed. We may therefore now pict- 
 ure him to ourselves as a preacher having the quali- 
 ties ascribed to him in full action and about to enter 
 upon its second stage, extending from 187o-lS90, 
 when J. Edward Roberts became his assistant. 
 Everything involved in and contributing to the 
 power of his preaching — "that wondrous preach- 
 ing, that made one's heart vibrate with infinitude," 
 as an intelligent hearer said of it, is important. 
 Sabbath morning he desired "to be in\'isible from 
 the time he left his study till he was in his pulpit. " 
 His bearing in the pulpit was that of one so engrossed 
 with the subject of his message that thought of 
 himself did not disturb him. This made him the 
 more impressive. The reading of the Scripture 
 and the prayer "helped" him, he said, and really 
 prepared the way for the sermon. His reading 
 interpreted the sense, and in the prayer "I try to 
 remember," he said, "that I am speaking to God 
 
 311 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 for others and for myself and that He is listening. " 
 The tone of his voice as he prayed unmistakably 
 indicated that he did remember God was listening. 
 
 When he rose to deliver his sermon he appeared 
 as one whose soul was full of the message he brought. 
 His colleague and successor, Mr. Roberts, says of 
 him with indubitable truth: "The power that holds 
 the congregation spellbound is not only the power 
 of a splendid intellect and of a skilled orator, though 
 these are there; it is the power of one who has 
 come straight from the presence of God into his 
 pulpit and who speaks as he is moved by the Holy 
 Ghost." Another of his hearers says of him: "His 
 two most striking peculiarities are his utter simpli- 
 city and his intense earnestness; he literally quivers 
 with the intensity of his feeling and his desire to 
 give it expression. He looks at you, and you see 
 and hear a soul gripping yours and holding it. 
 There is no opportunity for criticism. This man 
 is a prophet and you must either listen and swallow 
 or flee." 
 
 In accord with the two foregoing testimonies 
 is that of a plain farmer's wife. Nine years after 
 she had heard him preach, she said: "I can hear 
 him now; and the strange thing was I never at the 
 time thought about its being Dr. McLaren that 
 we all knew and liked; it just seemed listening to 
 a message from God." A message from God! This 
 reminds us of the apostle's words, "As though God 
 did beseech you by us, we pray you in Christ's 
 stead." That was the impression he endeavored 
 to make. Sometimes his entreaty had an individu- 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 alizing personal note, and a profound stillness 
 pervaded the assembly as each hearer felt the grip 
 of the preacher's soul laid upon and holding him. 
 His radiant look assisted his appeal. "The ad- 
 dress created an atmosphere," another listener 
 said. *'The preacher this morning lifted us into 
 the region of the spiritual, into the presence of 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 We can scarcely realize what this preaching of 
 McLaren meant to him; what an expenditure of 
 all the forces of his being — body, mind and spirit. 
 Early in his ministry he spoke of each Sunday 
 service as a " woe. " "This feeling continued through 
 his life," his biographer says, "and only those who 
 were with him when he was anticipating, not only 
 special services, but his weekly preparation for his 
 own pulpit, can know the tear and wear of spirit 
 which that preparation involved. " "In retrospect, " 
 she says, "it seems little short of a miracle that 
 his life of strenuous preparation for each sermon 
 preached was continued for nearly sixty years." 
 
 Notice the words, "for each sermon preached," 
 for he could not relieve the "tear and wear" of 
 this weekly preparation by occasionally preaching 
 an old sermon. "He had to revivify it to his own 
 mind by hours of thought and prayer. A sermon 
 to him needs to be not what he had prepared weeks, 
 months or years before, but what filled his mind 
 now, as he faced his congregation." 
 
 Though "he had singular nerve power which 
 quickened and intensified his thoughts and set 
 fire to his words," the wonder is that this "nerve 
 
 313 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 power" freely and constantly drawn upon in the 
 preparation for the Sabbath and in the two serv- 
 ices preached on that day was not completely ex- 
 hausted long before its failure. The secret of its 
 unfailing recuperation and remarkable conserva- 
 tion through all those years lay in his command of 
 sleep — "tired nature's sweet restorer." Like John 
 Wesley he could successfully invoke sleep when 
 needed. For its interest as a physiological fact 
 and for the benefit of other preachers, we quote 
 the entire paragraph in which his biographer speaks 
 of it: *'0n Sundays, and indeed week days, too, 
 he always rested for an hour or more in the afternoon. 
 The whole time was spent in sleep. He had a most 
 remarkable power of being able to sleep at will, 
 a power without which he could scarcely have con- 
 tinued the strenuous life he led for so many years. 
 He could say that, notwithstanding life-long per- 
 turbation before each sermon and public engage- 
 ment of any kind, he had never lost a night's sleep 
 either before or after even those he dreaded most. 
 During the last year of his life he said: *' Very early 
 in my career as a minister I resolved that when my 
 head reached the pillow and *I will both lay me 
 down to sleep,' or its equivalent had been said, 
 I would try to make my mind a blank, and I thank 
 God I have been able very successfully to do so 
 through my long life." 
 
 The popularity and success of a preacher depends 
 much upon the personal impression he makes upon 
 the community in which he lives and upon men 
 generally. If he is conceited and "puts on airs,". 
 
 314 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 he repels men, no matter how great his gifts; if, on 
 the other hand, he is a modest, friendly, approach- 
 able man, shows a kindly heart, and withal is pos- 
 sessed of a genial humor, so that he can tell a good 
 story and is ready to laugh appreciatively at the 
 stories of other men, he is liked by all and his bril- 
 liant pulpit gifts will win the more admiration. Dr. 
 McLaren was a man of the latter kind. There was 
 nothing stiff, austere, or clerical about him. His 
 dress and manner were those of an unpretentious, 
 ordinary gentleman. He usually wore what the 
 Scotchmen call a soft hat and the light-colored suit 
 of the business man and he had the rapid, springy 
 walk of a "lay "-man. His biographer tells two 
 anecdotes in regard to his appearance to strangers 
 who saw and met him on his vacations. An old 
 woman, when informed that the gentleman to whom 
 she had been "tellin' the road" was a minister, said 
 firmly, "I dinna think it, he's ower light in his 
 walk and he loupit ower the burn like onything. " 
 
 A copy of his photograph placed in the photog- 
 rapher's window was recognized by tourists from 
 Manchester and Liverpool. Many copies of it were 
 called for by would-be purchasers. The artist, 
 finding that the negative had not been preserved, 
 sulkily remarked: "That man micht hae tellt 
 me he was famous, and I would hae keepit him — 
 he didna look like it." 
 
 In 1877 the University of Edinburgh conferred 
 upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity, an honor 
 which, though accepted with hesitation because of 
 his modesty, he ultimately appreciated and enjoyed. 
 
 315 
 
/ 
 
 NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 *' After the ceremony was over Professor Blackie 
 said to a friend, 'Commend me, among all the 
 faces there, to McLaren, with his clear-cut features 
 and eagle eyes.'" 
 
 Towards the end of 1880, after he had been in 
 Manchester twenty-two years he showed signs of 
 impaired health. Work was difficult and preaching 
 impossible. He became depressed and thought of 
 sending in his resignation. His church responded 
 with promptness to what was clearly demanded, 
 that he should be released from work as long as 
 necessary for his recovery. No time was fixed but 
 he took a year for rest and recuperation. Toward 
 the end of 1881 he resumed his work — "but with 
 a difference. Up to this time he had had no as- 
 sistant, but now the Rev. J. G. Raws was chosen 
 for that office. And after this time Dr. McLaren 
 only preached once each Sunday, while Mr. Raws 
 supplied that which was lacking on his part and 
 greatly added to his peace of mind." His inter- 
 rupted work, taken up again, was carried on with 
 renewed vigor and sustained energy until his wife 
 died in December, 1884. What her loss meant to 
 him and his children cannot be described. "For 
 a time he could not face meeting friends, however 
 sympathetic, " and he hid himself from them. But he 
 felt that he still had his work to do and he was only 
 three Sundays away from his pulpit. The shadow of 
 his great affiiction, however, remained, "seen in the 
 lines of his face, heard in the pathetic ring of his 
 voice, and, above all, felt in the chastened, tender, 
 but always manly tone of his mature teaching." 
 
 316 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 His fame as a preacher had reached to the antipo- 
 des, and in 1888 he was earnestly invited to come 
 to Australia and New Zealand as the representa- 
 tive of the English Baptish Union, and on Septem- 
 ber 21, he and his two unmarried daughters sailed 
 from London. His reception and entertainment 
 in Adelaide, Melbourne and Dunedin, N. Z., were 
 enthusiastic and the tour through the islands was 
 one of repeated ovations — a triumphal progress. 
 "Everywhere," he wrote, "we have met with the 
 truest kindness. I have felt the unflagging attention 
 of the great audiences (3,000 they tell me) most 
 inspiring and I feel thankful that good has been 
 done. . . . The butter has been laid on with a 
 spade, but the heat has melted it and it has mostly 
 run off." "I have never spoken to more sym- 
 pathetic and more responsive audiences. They 
 have helped me greatly." The stimulus of such 
 interest and enthusiasm led him to overdo. "I 
 feel as if I had come to an end," he said before the 
 end of a month, and a pause was necessary. 
 
 On his way back to England he doubted being 
 able to begin work again and he thought of res- 
 ignation. During his absence his assistant, Mr. 
 Raws, had received a call to a pastorate elsewhere 
 and was only awaiting Mr. McLaren's return to 
 leave. This gave him anxiety. After several months, 
 in January, 1890, Mr. J. Edwards Roberts, still 
 in college, was chosen for his assistant and "so 
 began the long connection (of thirteen years) honor- 
 able to both." 
 
 We come now to the third (and last) stage of Dr. 
 
 317 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 McLaren's ministry in Manchester, from 1890- 
 1903. It was a stage of declining physical strength, 
 but of little less mental vigor. 
 
 In 1896 he completed the fiftieth year of his 
 ministry, and interest in the event was widely felt 
 and signally manifested. "An address handsomely 
 bound" signed by three hundred and fifty fellow 
 ministers was presented to him. On the occasion 
 of its presentation, "he most truly received an ova- 
 tion" from the large audience assembled. With 
 evident emotion he said, "I can only render from 
 my heart of hearts thanks, largely mingled with 
 wonder, at the place which you allow me to feel 
 that I hold in your regard." 
 
 "In Manchester the desire to commemorate Dr. 
 McLaren's Jubilee finally took the form of asking 
 him to sit for his portrait, which was to be pre- 
 sented to the city and placed in the art gallery." 
 The formal presentation of the portrait was accom- 
 panied by speeches from the Lord Mayor, Bishop 
 Morehouse, and Dr. McLaren's friend. Sir William 
 Crossley, who was in the chair. 
 
 The testimonies of the bishop and of the chairman 
 in regard to the eminence and power of Dr. McLaren 
 as a preacher are so impressive as to justify quota- 
 tion. Said Bishop Morehouse: "Thirty years ago 
 I was studying with great profit the published ser- 
 mons of the gentleman we honor today; and I will 
 say this, that in an age which had been charmed 
 and inspired by the sermons of Newman and Robert- 
 son of Brighton, there are no published discourses 
 which for profundity of thought, logical arrange- 
 
 318 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 ment, eloquence of appeal and power over the human 
 heart, exceed in merit those of Dr. McLaren." 
 
 Sir William Crossley said: **Dr. McLaren's writ- 
 ings are well known and have made him friends 
 all over the world. Those who have heard him preach 
 know him better still, and those who have known 
 and loved him for many years and have enjoyed 
 his friendship know him best of all. But all are 
 are deeply indebted to him not only for his high 
 scholarship, but for the marvelous power he has of 
 getting round men's hearts, elevating their desires 
 and making them think more and more about spirit- 
 ual things." 
 
 Another notable occasion during the period we 
 are now considering was the joint meeting of the 
 Baptist and Congregational Unions held in the City 
 Temple, London, April, 1901, when Dr. McLaren 
 gave his famous address (above referred to), *'An 
 Old Preacher on Preaching." The Temple was 
 densely crowded and many could not get in. Con- 
 trary to his custom he had ^Titten out the address 
 fully and read it. But notwithstanding the restraint 
 it was heard throughout with rapt attention. Sir 
 W. R. Nicoll said of it, "Considering its design and 
 its speaker and its audience, it was simply perfect 
 and will never be forgotten by those who heard it. " 
 But strange to say, w^e learn from his biographer 
 that Dr. McLaren's own verdict was, *'A failure 
 because I read it. Again and again I was tempted 
 to fling the paper from me and let myself go.'' 
 
 In October of 1901 still another notable occasion 
 was the autumn meeting of the Baptist Union in 
 
 319 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Edinburgh, at which he again occupied the chair, 
 and as president gave the usual address. The sub- 
 ject of his address was "EvangeHcal Mysticism," 
 w^hich, he said, "though theoretically recognized 
 by all does not enter in its due proportion into either 
 the creed or the experience of most of us, to the 
 great detriment, as I believe, of both experience 
 and creed." A passage toward the end, "when," 
 we are told, "his radiant look told even more than 
 his words" gives us probably a just idea of his sub- 
 ject and his own conception of it. "Consider how 
 the consciousness of the higher life in Christ brings 
 with it an absolute incapacity of believing that 
 what men call death can effect it. Christ in us is 
 'the hope of Glory.' The true evidence for immor- 
 tality lies in the deep experience of the Christian 
 spirit. It is when a man can say 'Thou art the 
 strength of my heart,' that the conviction springs 
 up inevitable and triumphant that such a union 
 can no more be severed by the physical accident 
 of death than a spirit can be wounded by a sword, 
 and that, therefore, he has the right to say further, 
 'and my portion forever.' 
 
 On the last Sunday in June, 1903, at the comple- 
 tion of the forty-fifth year of his Manchester ministry 
 he ended his pastoral labors with Union Chapel, 
 having previously informed his congregation that 
 the time had come when he had no longer the "physi- 
 cal strength for the continuous discharge of the 
 joyous duties" thereof. 
 
 But though he scarcely preached again, there 
 or elsewhere, he does not wish to resign himself 
 
 320 
 
ALEXANDER McLAREN 
 
 to entire idleness. Years before this he quotes with 
 approval Whittier's "My Psalm" and its lines, 
 
 "I break my pilgrim staff, I lay 
 Aside the toiling oar," 
 
 as appropriate to the anticipated close of his pastoral 
 work. He now has got beyond that feeling and has 
 John Wesley's desire *'to cease at once to work and 
 live," and says that "to enjoy a well earned rest is a 
 delusion. " The habit of creative work and the habit 
 of doing it constrains him to exercise his faculties as 
 his diminished strength may permit for the remaining 
 seven years of his life. It was very good work too, 
 such as his Expositions of the American Sunday- 
 school lessons in the Sunday-School Times, and 
 "The Expositions of Holy Scripture," though at 
 times he would ask, "Is it not foolish for an old 
 man to imagine he can do good work?" 
 
 But best of all, those last years were years of 
 growing fitness for heaven. Writing to a friend he 
 said, "You will get patience increased if you 'prac- 
 tice the Presence of God.' I feel for myself that 
 that is what I need most. Call the attitude by any 
 name you like, it is the life of all our religion. Christ's 
 name for it is the best, * Abide in Me.' " 
 
 Writing to another friend, he says, "You ask 
 me about my thoughts when they are free. I think 
 I can say that they do often, and with a kind of 
 instinct, turn Godward. Many times they glide 
 thither, perhaps because age diminishes wish to work 
 and indolence as much as devotion determines the 
 set of the current. I do not wish you to think that 
 
 21 321 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 my thoughts invariably turn Godward. It is often 
 difficult to keep them fixed on God or Christ, but 
 I am quite sure the more we make the effort to pene- 
 trate all our life with conscious contemplation of 
 the Divine Presence and Love, the more peaceful 
 we shall be and the better able to accept His will 
 and to find it right." 
 
 His attending physician asks "Who could be for 
 any time in his company without feeling that his pre- 
 sence and his words were at once an inspiration and 
 a benediction?" Talking with him concerning the 
 future, he said: "I cannot perhaps always, but 
 sometimes I can say (with Richard Baxter) 
 
 "But 'tis enough that Christ knows all 
 And I shall be with Him." 
 
 "On the afternoon of May 5, 1910, very quietly 
 the end came." His ashes were laid beside those 
 of his wife, where years before a stone cross had 
 been erected with the words, In Christo, in Pace, 
 in Spe. The trustful words express his state of 
 mind as he approached that grave in the beautiful 
 sunset of his life, when we fancy Tennyson's lines 
 may have often recurred to him: 
 
 "Sunset and evening star. 
 
 And one clear call for me! 
 And may there be no moaning of the bar. 
 
 When I put out to sea. 
 
 ***** 
 
 "For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 
 The flood may bear me far, 
 I hope to see my Pilot face to face 
 When I have crossed the bar." 
 
 322 
 
IX 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
IX 
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 1813-1887 
 
 This man may be regarded as the greatest of 
 American preachers. This is the opinion of many 
 judges of the highest eminence. Let the estimates 
 of two of these stand for the substance of the ex- 
 pressed opinions of a score. "That is true of him 
 as a pulpit orator," Professor G. B. Willcox says, 
 "which never has been true before of any other 
 preacher in this country and will never be true again ; 
 if in any company of intelligent persons you should 
 speak of the foremost preacher on this continent 
 without mentioning his name, nine persons in every 
 ten w^ould know whom you meant." 
 
 The second judge is Dr. Armitage, a distinguished 
 Baptist preacher of New York, who says of him: 
 "His sermons exhibit a larger reading of human 
 nature, a broader use of philosophical inquiry, a 
 fresher application of Gospel truths, a clearer induc- 
 tion of common sense, and a more independent 
 rectitude than can be found in any other modern 
 preacher." 
 
 In our inquiry as to the influences contributing 
 to make him great, we find that heredity is to be 
 reckoned among the chief. His father and mother 
 were both superior persons. His father, Lyman 
 
 S25 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Beecher, was one of the greatest preachers of his 
 generation. Dr. J. H. Barrows, who denominates 
 him "the King of the New England Pulpit" at the 
 time, describes him as *'a man of magnetic eloquence, 
 restless energy, and great evangelical fervor!" 
 His name is associated with important reforms, as 
 that against dueling, in regard to which he preached 
 a notable, widely-read sermon called out b^^ the 
 death of Alexander Hamilton through his duel 
 with Aaron Burr; and especially the Temper- 
 ance reform, in regard to which he preached a series 
 of powerful sermons that did much to check the 
 flood of intemperance which then was desolating 
 the land. 
 
 Lyman Beecher was a man of indomitable spirit, 
 whom no difficulties could daunt, and a tireless 
 worker for the promotion of good. His illustrious 
 son said of him: "My father always had the angel 
 of hope looking over his shoulder when he wrote." 
 He was an earnest believer in and advocate of the 
 "New Theology," as it was then called, as contrasted 
 with the old, fatalistic hyper-Calvinistic theology, 
 which denied free agency and the sinner's ability to 
 repent and embrace the salvation of Christ revealed 
 in the Gospel. He was a sanguine, self-reliant 
 man. i He believed that if he could have talked with 
 the poet Byron, he could have so clearly explained 
 to him the truth of the Gospel that all his mental 
 diflSculties would have been removed, and he would 
 have been converted from his misanthropy and 
 become a joyful Christian. He was withal a frolic- 
 some man with his children; he used to dance with 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 t,hem in his stocking feet to the music of his own 
 violin and the great damage of his stockings. He 
 famiharized them with the questions of the day, set 
 his boys to arguing with him concerning them, and 
 *'thus," says Dr. Abbott, "developed their mental 
 muscle,^ught them to do their own thinking and 
 to stand by their convictions and defend them, i He 
 had a delightfully naive, childlike egotism, quite 
 free from self-conceit, yet inspiring him with a kind 
 of self-assurance which is often the precursor of 
 victory." He became through his oratorical ability 
 the champion of Orthodoxy. "He was by nature 
 a warrior and delighted in battle," and in Boston, 
 whither he was called in 1826 to be the pastor of the 
 Hanover Street Congregational Church, where he 
 remained six years and a half, he achieved great 
 distinction by his successful defense and vindica- 
 tion of evangelical Christianity from the attacks of 
 Unitarianism, through which the tide of unbelief 
 was stayed and large gains were made by revivals 
 of great power to the ranks of the orthodox faith. 
 Wendell Phillips was one of his converts. "I was 
 made for action," he said, "the Lord drove me on; 
 but I was ready. I have always been going full 
 speed." Having such a father, Henry Ward Beecher 
 inherited from him zeal for God's truth and right- 
 eousness, independence of mind and a gift of convinc- 
 ing speech. 
 
 His mother, Roxana Foote Beecher, was no less 
 remarkable as a woman than her husband among 
 men. The testimonies of her children, Catherine, 
 Harriet and Henry Ward, have wreathed her char- 
 
 327 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 acter with a crown of womanly virtues that make it 
 saintly. She was an ardent lover of nature and good 
 literature," of painting and music. "There was a 
 moral force about her," says Mrs. Stowe, "a dignity 
 of demeanor and an air of elegance which produced 
 a constant atmosphere of unconscious awe in the 
 minds of little children." She had also "one of 
 those strong, restful and yet widely sympathetic 
 natures in whom all around seemed to find 
 comfort and repose." "She possessed," says Abbott, 
 "that peculiar strength which comes from close and 
 intimate communion with God," and "her piety 
 of spirit and her placidity of temperament combined 
 to give her an equipoise which made her the trusted 
 counselor of her husband, on whose judgment he 
 depended, and in whose calm his own turbulent 
 spirit found rest." Henry Ward Beecher inherited 
 from his mother those qualities which were most 
 characteristic of her and which constituted his 
 social charm. She died when he was but little more 
 than three years old, but she remained all his life a 
 potent influence. "No devout Catholic," he said, 
 "ever saw so much in the Virgin Mary as I have 
 seen in my mother, who has been a presence to me 
 ever since I can remember." 
 
 (^ Having such parents, to whom he was born in 
 Litchfield, Conn., June 24, 1813, and brought up in 
 the companionship of sisters and brothers richly 
 endowed with native genius, he derived from home 
 and family the best and most inspiring impulses. , 
 And yet there was nothing precocious, or intel- 
 lectually remarkable in him, as a child or boy. On 
 
 328 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 the contrary, he was rather dull and backward in his 
 studies, and chiefly remarkable for his love of fun 
 and good-natured mischief, his abounding animal 
 health and spirits. This w^as true of him in Litch- 
 field and in Boston, to which city his father removed 
 when Henry was thirteen years old.; He was sent 
 toi^Boston's famous Latin School, the educational 
 nursery of so many distinguished men; he entered 
 it soon after Charles Sumner had left it, and while 
 Wendell Phillips was still in it; but its classic atmos- 
 phere and splendid traditions did not kindle in him 
 any ambition or fondness for study. It *'w^as to 
 him a Sinaitic desert." "He became moody, rest- 
 less and irritable." In this condition of mind he 
 was set by his wise father to reading biographies of 
 great sailors and naval heroes. From his reading, 
 the desire to go to sea was kindled in him. His 
 father did not object, but advised him first to qualify 
 himself by further study to be something more 
 than a common sailor. Henry confessed that he 
 aspired to be a captain or a commodore, and that it 
 would be well for him to study mathematics and 
 navigation. So he consented to go to Mt. Pleasant 
 School, near Amherst, where boys fitted for college, 
 and his shrewd father still hoped in this way that 
 his son w^ould finally enter the ministry. 
 
 At this school he found two teachers that had 
 the faculty of stimulating him to good work in study 
 by showing him how to study and what benefit he 
 might gain from application to it. They were John 
 E. Lovell, who taught him elocution, of whom he 
 afterwards said: "A better teacher in his department 
 
 329 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 was never made," and W. P. Fitzgerald, the teacher 
 of mathematics, who taught him to conquer in study- 
 ing, and to be sure of his ground by making him 
 defend and prove the correctness of his solutions. 
 While at Mt. Pleasant a revival occurred and he 
 was numbered among the converts and united with 
 his father's church in Boston. The awakening of 
 his mind to study and the quickening of his religious 
 life wrought by the revival, led him to give up the 
 idea of a sailor's life and to turn(his thoughts toward 
 the ministry?^ 
 
 In 1830, his eighteenth year, he entered Amherst 
 College. "To college," says Dr. Abbott, "he carried 
 with him a nature of strange contradictions. A mas- 
 culine robustness of nature mated to a feminity of 
 spirit — a habit of hard work (formed at Mt. Pleas- 
 ant), but a habit of working according to his own 
 mood, mot according to rules prescribed to him by 
 others." This disposition, as might be supposed, 
 prevented him from winning a high grade in his class. 
 His college standing is indicated by his later remark, 
 that he once "stood next to the head of his class, 
 but it was when the class was arranged in a circle." 
 But though he gave no more attention to the allotted 
 studies than was necessary to enable him to pass, he 
 wasj a diligent reader of books and an investigator of 
 subjects that interested him, and he gained among 
 his fellow-students a reputation for uncommon ability 
 as a writer, a debater and public speaker. Among 
 the subjects debated was the question of the African 
 colonization of American negroes. He was given 
 the negative, and fifty years after he said: "In pre- 
 
 330 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 paring that speech, I prepared for my whole Hfe." 
 Through his growing fondness for pubHc speaking 
 and the reputation he thus acquired, he was repeat - 
 edlyi invited during his course to conduct prayer- 
 meetings, to preach, to lecture on temperance and 
 phrenology and other topics, by which he earned 
 some money and in which he acquitted himself with 
 growing distinction. In the winter vacations he 
 taught school in various places to assist in his college 
 support, and in every place was he forward to speak 
 on subjects of moral reform and religious duty. 
 v^^During his college course at Amherst his father 
 was called to the Presidency of Lane Theological 
 Seminary, Cincinnati, where Henry entered in 1834, j 
 at twenty-one, immediately after his graduation 
 from college. His Seminary course was similar to 
 his college course in its miscellaneous reading and 
 the studies given to topics outside the prescribed 
 curriculum. From only one part of the regular 
 seminary work did he get much benefit by devoting 
 himself to its study; that was in the Bible studies^ 
 taken under Professor Calvin E. Stowe, who later 
 married his sister Harriet. *'By him he was led 
 into a thorough study and analysis of the Bible as a 
 body of truth, instinct with God, warm with all 
 divine and human sympathies, clothed with language 
 adapted to their best expression and to be understood 
 as similar language used for similar ends in everyday 
 life." 
 
 These studies, especially those relating to the 
 Gospels and the Epistles of St. Paul, were fruitful 
 studies, which in later years gave to his preaching, 
 
 331 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to a remarkable degree, a rare insight into the mind 
 of Christ and a comprehensive and sure grasp of the 
 essentials of Christian truth J To systematic, tech- 
 nical theology he paid but little attention, and he 
 never showed much interest in or knowledge of it. 
 In fact he was lamentably and discreditably lacking 
 in his acquaintance with its definitions, conflicting 
 theories, and discussions. But his repugnance was 
 not without some justification. He had grown up 
 in an atmosphere of theological discussion and con- 
 troversy, and Lane Seminary then was a veritable 
 storm center of theological controversy, between the 
 old-school and the new-school theologies. His 
 father, who warmly championed the teachings of 
 the new school, was fiercely assailed, — so fiercely 
 that he was compelled to leave his wife's death bed 
 to defend himself before Presbytery and Synod from 
 the charge of heresy. Thus "Henry Ward Beecher 
 learned," says Dr. Barrows, "that however earnest, 
 unselfish and consecrated the life of a Christian 
 minister, like his father, might be, he was not safe 
 from persecution and deposition from the ministry, 
 unless he assented and conformed to the literal 
 teachings of what he deemed an irrational, mislead- 
 ing and obsolescent theology." The spectacle 
 filled him with perplexity and disgust. He had, 
 therefore, no taste for theological study and inquiry. 
 He was not idle, however. He "taught a Bible 
 class of young ladies, making the most careful prep- 
 aration for his work"; for a time he acted as editor 
 of the Cincinnati Journal; he lectured on temperance; 
 he preached as he found opportunity. But the 
 
 332 
 
HENRY WAHD BEECHER 
 
 bewilderment of mind produced by the theological 
 controversies of that time naturally resulted in a 
 feeling of uncertainty and mental doubt. The 
 future looked dark and his prospects dubious. Could 
 he ever get a license to preach, or a church willing 
 to hear him.^^ "I must preach the gospel as it is 
 revealed to me," he said, but he had no clear reve- 
 lation for a while upon which he could plant his feet 
 with any degree of assurance. But at length such 
 a revelation came. The^ccount of it is given in the 
 first chapter of Dr. Lyman Abbott's "Henry Ward 
 Beecher," a remarkably interesting book; also in 
 the seventh chapter of Dr. John Henry Barrows' 
 valuable biography. A portion of the account of 
 Dr. Abbott we here give, for the bearing it has upon 
 a proper understanding of Henry Ward Beecher 's 
 ministry: "\ , ^^^"""^^ 
 
 "I was a child," he says "of teaching and prayer: 
 I was reared in the household of faith: I knew the 
 catechism as it was taught: I was instructed in the 
 Scriptures as they were expounded from the pulpit 
 and read by men, and yet, till after I was twenty- 
 one years old, I groped without the knowledge of 
 God in Christ Jesus. I know not what the tablets 
 of Eternity have written down, but I think that when 
 I stand in Zion and before God the brightest thing 
 I shall look back upon will be that blessed May 
 morning when it pleased God to reveal to my won- 
 dering soul the idea that it was His nature to love 
 a man in his sins for the sake of helping him out of 
 them; that He did not do it out of compliment to 
 Christ, or to a law, or a plan of salvation, but from 
 
 333 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 the fulness of His great heart; that He was a being 
 not made mad by sin, but sorry; that He was not 
 furious with wrath toward the sinner, but pitied 
 him : In short, that He felt toward me as my mother 
 felt toward me, to whose eyes my wrongdoing brought 
 tears and who would fain with her yearning love 
 lift me out of my trouble. . . . And when I 
 found that Jesus Christ had such a disposition and 
 that when his disciples did wrong he drew them closer 
 to Him than He did before, and when pride and jeal- 
 ousy and rivalry and all vulgar and worldly feelings 
 rankled in their bosoms. He opened His heart unto 
 them as a medicine to heal these infirmities, I felt 
 that I had found a God. . . . Time went 
 on and next came the disclosure of a Christ ever 
 present with me, a Christ that was never far from 
 me, but was always near me, as a companion and 
 friend, to uphold and sustain me. This was the 
 last and the best revelation of God's spirit to my 
 soul. It is what I consider to be the culminating 
 work of God's grace in a man; and no man is a Chris- 
 tian until he has experienced it. I do not mean 
 that a man cannot be a good man until then, but he 
 has not got to Jerusalem till he has seen the King 
 sitting in his glory, with love to him individually." 
 This vision colored and shaped his whole after-life 
 and ministry. He regarded it as an epitome of 
 the gospel, as the sum and substance of Christianity, 
 and he was eager to proclaim it to the world. Its 
 effect upon him was like that wrought upon Luther 
 by the heavenly voice: "The just shall live by faith"; 
 or that produced in John Wesley, when his burden 
 
 334 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 of sin rolled off as he listened to the interpretation 
 of Paul's letter to the Romans given by a devout 
 Moravian at an Alder sgate Street meeting in London. 
 He felt that he now had a message, a real gospel 
 message for mankind, and his heart burned to tell it. 
 
 The opportunity came in 1837, when, at his grad- ; 
 uation from the seminary, he received a call to a 
 small Presbyterian church in Lawrenceburg, Indi- 
 ana, at a nominal salary of $400, including what , 
 he received from the Home Missionary Society. 
 The church was composed of twenty members, 
 nineteen women and one (poor stick of a) man. 
 He served it two years, performing the duties of 
 both preacher and sexton. He says: "I swept the 
 church and lighted my own fire. I took care of 
 everything connected with the building." Upon 
 this meager salary he ventured to marry. The 
 young man and his wife began housekeeping in two 
 rooms over a stable, furnished with borrowed fur- 
 niture. Surely no minister ever made a humbler 
 beginning! He entered upon his work with some 
 definite ideas as to the conditions of success. In his 
 journal these entries are found: "Remember you 
 can gain men easily if you get round their prejudices 
 and put truth in their minds; but never if you attack 
 prejudices." "My people must be alert to make 
 the church agreeable, to give seats and wait on 
 strangers.'' ''Secure a large congregation; let this be 
 the first thing." 
 
 The young minister made a favorable impression 
 at the very start by his genial sociability and friend- 
 liness and his good sermons, so that the "large 
 
 335 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 congregation" — as large as the little church could 
 hold — which he had deemed as of first importance, 
 was soon secured. 
 
 Of his preaching he says: "I preached some theo- 
 logy; as a man chops straw and mixes it with Indian 
 meal in order to distend the stomach of the ox that 
 eats it, so I chopped a little of the regular orthodox 
 theology [picked up while in the seminary and in 
 the discussions at home with his father] that I 
 might sprinkle it with the meal of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ. But my horizon grew larger and larger 
 in that one idea of Christ." 
 
 As his horizon of truth enlarged his field of influ- 
 ence widened. In 1839 he was called to the Second 
 Presbyterian Church, Indianapolis, at a salary of 
 $600; which call, after twice declining it, he at 
 length accepted at the request of the synod. Indi- 
 anapolis then had a population of only 4000, and 
 its distinguishing features, Dr. Barrows says, were 
 "mud and malaria." It possessed all the crudeness 
 and ugliness of ai new Western town. Hogs and pigs 
 ran at will in its streets, or wallowed in the muddy 
 pools. "With the exception of two or three streets," 
 he says, "there were no ways along which could not 
 be seen the original stumps of the forests. I bumped 
 against them too often in a buggy not to be sure of 
 the fact." 
 
 Here, as at Lawrenceburg, a large congregation 
 equal to the utmost capacity of the new church 
 erected for it, was soon gathered. His originality, 
 his freshness of presentation of gospel truth and his 
 personal magnetism charmed all who heard him. 
 
 336 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 Dr. Abbott says: *'From the first his church was a 
 church of strangers. The members of the legisla- 
 ture attended it almost in a body. His presentation 
 of God as a Father of infinite compassion, whose 
 character is revealed in the earthly life of Jesus 
 Christ, was, in that time and place, extraordinarily 
 novel. Men knew not what to make of it and curi- 
 osity commingled with higher motives to attract 
 audiences eager to hear this strange gospel." "Here 
 I preached my first real sermon," he says. He 
 means that not till then did he have a true idea of 
 the aim and purpose of a sermon, or did he know how 
 to adopt his gospel, "the Gospel of Christ as he had 
 learned it from a careful study of the Evangelists 
 and as it had been burned into his soul by the heat 
 of a great experience," to the various needs of men. 
 The true idea of a sermon he saw was this: It is a 
 means to an end, and everything in it — text, exposi- 
 tion, argument, illustrations — all are to bear upon 
 this definite end. "How to adapt his truth to his 
 hearers was a discovery made by a careful study of 
 the teaching and practice of the Apostles, and 
 especially the Apostle Paul. He learned, as John 
 Knox and Jonathan Edwards had done before him, 
 that they laid "a foundation first of historical truth 
 common to them and their auditors; that this mass 
 of familiar truth was then concentrated upon the 
 hearers in, the form of an intense application and 
 appeal; that the language was not philosophical 
 and scholastic, but the language of common life." 
 He tried this method and it met with immediate 
 success, which filled him with joy. "I owe more to 
 
 22 337 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 the Book of Acts and the writings of the Apostle 
 Paul than to all other books put together," he said. 
 These principles which he speaks of are axiomatic 
 in Homiletics. We see them exemplified in the 
 preaching of Jonathan Edwards, Robertson and 
 McLaren, as well as in that of Beecher. From the 
 application made of them, great success attended 
 his ministry in Indianapolis. His preaching in 
 those eight years was especially evangelistic in char- 
 acter, and large revivals resulted from it, his church 
 increasing eightfold. With great joy and wonder 
 he witnessed the work. "He stands upon the shore 
 to see the tide come in. It is the move of the infinite 
 ethereal tide. It is from the other world." 
 
 He took particular interest in young men and they 
 responded to his interest. His church was full of 
 them, and for their sakes he prepared a series of 
 "Lectures to Young Men," which became famous 
 and were republished in England. The pictures of 
 vice and sin, which he portrayed in these lectures^ 
 are most graphic, not to say realistic. The denun- 
 ciations poured out upon the sins depicted were 
 scathing and terrible, so terrible that once a man, 
 who thought that he was particularly aimed at, 
 met him on the street with pistol in hand and said: 
 "Take it back right here or I will shoot you on the 
 spot." "Shoot away," Beecher replied and coolly 
 walked on, to the bully's discomfiture. 
 
 He steadily grew in preaching power. His style 
 in those days was pictorial, concrete, more florid 
 than in later years. But his illustrations, which 
 were profuse, were original and ever fresh. He 
 
 338 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 never repeated one. His store was inexhaustible, 
 gathered from all fields, nature, science, history, 
 literature and the occupations of men, and his appli- 
 cation of them was most apt and striking. His 
 reputation for eloquence spread throughout the 
 land, and calls were extended to him from the Park 
 Street Church, Boston, and the newly organized 
 ^Plymouth Church, Brooklyn. The latter, after 
 some considerable hesitation, he accepted for the 
 sake of his invalid wife, whose health the malarial 
 atmosphere of Indianapolis had greatly shattered. J 
 
 On the journey east, Mr. Beecher, then thirty- 
 six years of age, but appearing younger, was very 
 attentive to his wan and sad-faced wife. An old 
 lady, whose compassion was touched by her miser- 
 able countenance, said to her, encouragingly, while 
 he was gone to procure something for her refresh- 
 ment and comfort at a halting place, "Cheer up, 
 my dear madam. Whatever may be your trial, 
 you have cause for great thankfulness to God, who 
 has given you such a kind and attentive son." 
 
 The change happily restored her to health, and 
 she survived him several years. His ministry to 
 Plymouth Church, Brooklyn (October 10, 1847 to 
 March 8, 1887) covered a period of nearly forty 
 years. An infant enterprise of twenty-one members 
 when he came to it, it became under his ministry, 
 the largest and the most notable church in the land, 
 conspicuous not only for its size, but for its splendid 
 munificence in charity and great achievements in 
 every form of Christian enterprise. It is numbered 
 among those few historical churches in our country 
 
 339 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 that have gained a world-wide reputation, due 
 chiefly to the eclat and success of the work of their 
 ministers. 
 
 The ministry may be thought of as a kind of busi- 
 ness, great in its aims and difficult of accomplish- 
 ment. What were Mr. Beecher's personal equipment 
 and spiritual capital for the important business 
 now entered upon in which he was to achieve such 
 splendid success .^^ 
 
 (1) A magnificent ^physique with ^perfect health. 
 Dr. Barrows speaks of his "enormous physical 
 vitality." Fowler, the phrenologist, called him *'a 
 splendid animal," and Dr. Abbott says, "vigor of 
 health was characteristic of him all his life. He 
 had a good digestion and an excellent nervous sys- 
 tem." He inherited this fine strong physique from 
 his paternal ancestors, two of whom had been black- 
 smiths strong enough to pick up a barrel of cider 
 and drink from its bunghole. Having such an inher- 
 itance he took good care of it. He was temperate in 
 diet and studied to take such food as was suited to 
 his particular needs. He took daily outdoor exercise 
 and was always a sound sleeper, and had the faculty 
 of "throwing off cares and anxieties, whether they 
 belonged to him or others, when he believed that 
 further carrying them would do no good." 
 
 (2) He had had a unique preparation or appren- 
 ticeship for his business. In this apprenticeship 
 were included not only the ten years spent in Law- 
 renceburg and Indianapolis, with their varied expe- 
 riences of life as then existing in those new Western 
 towns, in editing horticultural and floricultural 
 
 340 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 journals, and in lecturing, but the years of his 
 seminary and college life, with their miscellaneous 
 reading and atmosphere of theological discussion 
 and doubts and perplexities, ending in the extra- 
 ordinary spiritual visions of God and of Christ which 
 had filled him with eagerness to tell men what he 
 had seen and proved. In that varied experience and 
 strenuous life his mental and spiritual powers had 
 been wonderfully developed, and he had learned how 
 to use and profit by them. 
 
 (3) Extraordinary "power of expression. Whatever 
 aids expression — imagination, feeling, oratorical abil- 
 ity — w^as his in largest measure. Charles Kingsley, 
 hearing him some years later when in the maturity 
 of his strength and preaching power, said: "Mr. 
 Beecher has said the very things I have been trying 
 to say ever since I entered the Christian pulpit." 
 No thought, however profound, delicate, elusive, 
 grand or beautiful surpassed his power of expression. 
 It was equal to the clear and impressive utterance 
 of whatever might come into his mind or stir his 
 heart. "It is his transcendent gifts of expression, 
 his diction," says Dr. Brastow, "that has won for him 
 the title, 'The Shakespeare of the Modern Pulpit.' 
 His nimbleness and fertility of mind, vividness of 
 imagination and passionate intensity of feeling were 
 all tributary to this linguistic faculty. He was an 
 artist in speech. His diction is a distinct gift and he 
 cultivated it with ceaseless assiduity. It is notable 
 for its ease and affluence, its wealth and variety. 
 It combines all the qualities of an effective pulpit 
 style." 
 
 341 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 (4)^ voice of remarkable compass and melody,^ 
 "His voice," says Dr. Cuyler, "was as sweet as a 
 lute and as loud as a trumpet. In its tenderest 
 pathos, that witching voice touched the fount of 
 tears. When he rose into impassioned sublimity 
 'they that heard him said that it thundered.'" 
 This remarkable voice was not natural; it was the 
 result of careful culture and training, which dated 
 as far back as the Mt. Pleasant School of his boyhood, 
 when he came under the instruction of Professor 
 John Lovell, whose praise he never ceased to speak. 
 When he was a child he had a serious defect in his 
 speech, which made it almost unintelligible, so that 
 his Aunt Esther said: "When Henry is sent to me 
 with a message, I always have to make him say it 
 three times. The first time, I have no manner of 
 an idea, any more than if he spoke Choctaw; the 
 second I catch now and then a word, and the third 
 time I begin to understand." 
 
 Dr. Lovell's training enabled him to get the 
 better of this defect, and he studied continuously to 
 perfect his voice and his mastery of it. 
 
 (5) An extraordinary and peculiar genius to which 
 he gave free play. He belonged to a peculiar family. 
 Though himself the most richly endowed and dis- 
 tinguished of them all, all of his father's children 
 were persons of mark because of their rare natural 
 gifts and ability. Another such family, so richly 
 endowed and so eminent, each and all, can hardly 
 be found in our American history. There was in 
 him a peculiar personal strain, inherited partly 
 from his father and mother, and partly original with 
 
 342 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 himself, which gave him the preeminence among 
 his brethren as a preacher and made him eventually 
 the prince of the American pulpit. It was a kind 
 of prophetic capacity for inspiration and rare spir- 
 itual exaltation. "I am what I am by the grace of 
 God through my father and mother," he said. 
 "I have my own peculiar temperament; I have my 
 own method of preaching, I am intense at times on 
 subjects that deeply move me. I feel as though all 
 the oceans were not strong enough to be the power 
 behind my words. There are times when it is not 
 I that is talking, when I am caught up and carried 
 away so that I know not whether I am in the body 
 or out of the body, when I think things in the pulpit 
 that I never could think of in my study, and when 
 I have feelings that are so different from any that 
 belong to the normal condition, that I can neither 
 regulate nor understand them." 
 
 It was through this peculiar religious genius that 
 he sometimes spoke as if really inspired. "He 
 seemed," Hon. Andrew D. White says, *'to have a 
 deep insight into the great truths of religion and to 
 be able to present them to others, opening up at 
 times great new vistas of truth by a single flash." 
 At such times he exhibited a combination of pulpit 
 power and charm scarcely equaled by any other 
 preacher of his day. 
 
 (6) 'Extraordinary fertility of mind. His mind 
 was in itself a mine of wealth. Its opulence, apart 
 from any enrichment it received from his studies 
 and much reading, w^as marvelous. Upon any 
 subject that he touched he had much of great value 
 
 343 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 to say. Mr. Lincoln spoke of him as "the most 
 productive mind of ancient or modern times," and 
 Dr. Joseph Parker in his eulogy of him said: "My 
 sober impression is that Mr. Beecher could preach 
 every Sunday in the year from the first verse in 
 Genesis without giving any sign of intellectual 
 exhaustion or any failure of imaginative force." 
 Surely, this was an important item in his capital in 
 view of the long ministry that lay before him in 
 Brooklyn. It never failed him. To the very end 
 he maintained the interest of his church and of the 
 Christian public in his preaching. 
 
 (7) A natural style in preaching. His ordinary 
 preaching was in the conversational style. "In a 
 sense," says Dr. Abbott, "every sermon was a 
 conversation with his audience. In the phrasing of 
 it, always, in the figures employed, often in the 
 structure of it, sometimes the audience took an uncon- 
 scious part." His sermons were unwritten, except 
 a few introductory sentences, which served "the 
 purpose of shoving him off into deep water," as 
 McLaren says of a similar practice of his own. His 
 preaching was topical rather than textual. "A 
 text," he says, "is like a gate; some ministers swing 
 back and forth upon it. I push it open and go in." 
 His topics, such as "The Hidden Christ," "What 
 Christ is to Me," "The Crime of Degrading Men," 
 were topics adapted to his peculiar temperament. 
 He followed a carefully prepared outline, usually 
 rapidly sketched Sabbath morning. But those 
 few Sabbath hours by no means represented all the 
 work he put upon his sermons. They, with the 
 
 344 
 
.HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 time occupied in delivering his sermon, represented 
 only what may be called his creative work. He was 
 a constant student in his own way. Scores of his 
 notebooks, filled with thoughts and points for ser- 
 mons, prove this. The sermons themselves, with 
 their evidences of careful study and extensive survey 
 of the fields of thought treated, prove it. The fact 
 is, that before the Sabbath his mind was carefully 
 stored with the materials for his sermons, and these 
 he was able, through his remarkable powers of con- 
 centration and productive effort, quickly to crys- 
 tallize into a suitable form, or plan, and vitalize for 
 effective delivery. He was unique in his method 
 as well as his genius, and is not a safe example for 
 any other man except in the general spirit of his 
 work. It was "a singular feature of his productive 
 power," we are told, "that it seldom lasted more 
 than two or three hours." But in those two or 
 three hours, on Sabbath morning, before and during 
 the public service, which stimulated and exalted his 
 powers to the utmost, he performed wonders. 
 
 Such a style in preaching, unfettered, conversa- 
 tional, free from artificial monotonous declamation, 
 brings the preacher close to his hearers, keeps them 
 wide-awake and makes the preacher vividly dramatic 
 as well as more genuine and lifelike in his speech. 
 It is the style of the best preachers. In the case of 
 Mr. Beecher with his fine flexible voice, his imagi- 
 native power, and natural ease upon the platform, 
 it was carried almost to perfection. As he warmed 
 to his work and his soul was kindled to a blaze by 
 his theme, he became transfigured. 
 
 345 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 (8) Joyousness of spirit. ) Mr. Beecher in his 
 minist^ felt himself to be a messenger of good tid- 
 ings. It was a natural consequence of that 
 wonderful vision in which God was revealed to him 
 as a loving father and Christ as a potential daily 
 friend. God was to him a perpetual presence; he 
 lived in the sunshine of his countenance; he walked 
 in the companionship of Jesus Christ, and he believed 
 and taught that the same privilege was offered to his 
 hearers. Therefore his preaching was a message of 
 hope to the despondent, and of good cheer to the 
 sad-hearted. Similar was the effect of his public 
 prayers. These were as remarkable as his sermons. 
 In them he voiced the spiritual aspirations, the 
 adoration and the conscious needs of his hearers as 
 few preachers ever did or could do. He carried 
 them into the felt presence of God, and their souls 
 were purified and strengthened by the visions they 
 had of his grace and glory. For years those public 
 prayers were reported by an excellent stenographer 
 and published with his sermons in the Christian 
 Union, Subsequently a selection of them was 
 published in book form. Dr. Abbott says: "If there 
 is any collection of prayers which surpasses these 
 prayers of Mr. Beecher in spiritual eloquence, in 
 the self-revelation of childlikeness of heart and fa- 
 miliarity of fellowship with the Everlasting Father, 
 and in understanding and interpretation of the wants, 
 simple and complex, superficial and profound, of 
 the human heart, I have not seen it." From such 
 sermons and prayers, his hearers went forth from 
 the service radiant with hope and trust. A gifted 
 
 346 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 lady of his congregation says of the mood in which 
 she usually left Plymouth Church: "The sun was 
 always shining for me whatever the weather.'' 
 
 (9) An evangelical passion for bringing men to God 
 through faith in Christ. Under the stimulous of 
 this passion he was unwearied and tireless in his 
 labors. At one time in his ministry, in Indiana- 
 polis, "he preached seventy nights in succession." 
 Through the incitement of it, his first years as pastor 
 of Plymouth Church were full of religious activity, 
 and the joy of ingathering was great for both pastor 
 and people. 
 
 (10) The last item I speak of in my summary of 
 Mr. Beecher's equipment for the great business of 
 ministering to Plymouth Church, upon which he. 
 entered at his coming to Brooklyn, was^^good sense. 
 His genius was not marred or crippled by the pro- 
 verbial eccentricities of genius. Though one of the 
 most brilliant of men, he was sane, temperate and 
 judicious in his utterances. He had the mark of a 
 wise man, which the homely conundrum, that asks 
 "why such a man is like a pin?" gives in its answer 
 to the question. "Because his head keeps him 
 from going too far." It kept him from going too 
 far in the heated discussion that arose in the anti- 
 slavery agitation preceding the Civil War, in the 
 general anxiety and perplexity over the policy of 
 government during the war and in the debate over 
 the settlement of the question of the Reconstruction 
 period. In those discussions his opinions and 
 utterances were those of a wise and calm statesman. 
 Such likewise were his opinions and counsels upon 
 
 347 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 the various civic and ethical questions which con- 
 cern society and individuals. 
 
 His good sense was manifest also in his not ven- 
 turing to rely too much upon his inventive genius 
 and ready eloquence and such happy productive 
 moods as might come to him in preaching. "No 
 man can preach well," he said, "except out of an 
 abundance of well- wrought material." And so, as 
 Dr. Barrows says, "he was always industriously 
 filling in or getting his accumulations into shape, 
 vitalizing them with conscious and unconscious 
 thought." 
 
 Having such an equipment for his work, we now 
 are to think of him entering upon this great work at 
 thirty -four years of age. Though his stock of sys- 
 tematic theology was small, for reasons that have 
 been given, he knew by heart what was most essen- 
 tial in the theology of a preacher and he knew well 
 how to use it. He believed that "no man lives who 
 does not need to repent of sin and turn from it"; 
 "that turning from sin is a work so deep and diffi- 
 cult that no man will ever change except by the help 
 of God"; that "the Gospel is the power of God unto 
 salvation"; that "in the person and work of Christ 
 this power is centered," and that "success in preach- 
 ing depends on the power of the preacher to put 
 before men the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 "The new preacher," Dr. Abbott says, "at first 
 drew but moderate congregations. Not until after 
 six months did the church building begin to fill so as 
 to be crowded, but from that time on it was unable 
 to accommodate the congregations." People came 
 
 348 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 to hear him from all parts of Brooklyn, from New 
 York on the other side of East River, and from all 
 parts of the land. For more than a quarter of a 
 century it was common for people coming to New 
 York for business or pleasure and spending the Sab- 
 bath in the city, to cross the ferries to Brooklyn to 
 hear Beecher, and if, on stepping off from the ferry- 
 boat, these strangers asked a policeman the way to 
 Plymouth Church, the answer usually received was: 
 "Follow the crowd." 
 
 It was the writer's great privilege as a young man 
 often to hear him in Plymouth Church and to share 
 the feelings and impressions there made upon the 
 great throng by this remarkable preacher then in 
 the zenith of his power and fame. I wish I could 
 give my readers some just conception of his elo- 
 quence. But no description can convey it. Even 
 his sermons, as reported by the best of stenographers 
 can give but a most inadequate idea of it. "The j 
 difference between the sermon as he preaches it," 
 Dr. Storrs once truthfully said, "and the sermon as 1 
 it is printed and published to be read afterward, is / 
 like that of fireworks as they appear at night in all \ 
 their brilliance and glory and the blackened smoking 
 framework which the boys stare at the next morn- 
 ing." In the last chapter of Dr. Abbott's interesting 
 book, "Henry Ward Beecher" there is an interesting 
 and instructive comparison of Beecher's pulpit and 
 oratorical power with that of other great preachers 
 and pulpit orators. Dr. Abbott says: "In particular 
 elements of charm or power he was surpassed by 
 some; in combination of charm and power by none. 
 
 349 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 If the test of the oration (or sermon) is its perfection, 
 whether of structure or of expression, other orators 
 have surpassed Mr. Beecher; if the test is the power 
 of the speaker to impart to his audience his life, to 
 impress on them his conviction, animate them with 
 his purpose, and direct their action to the accom- 
 pHshment of his end, then Mr. Beecher was the 
 greatest orator I ever heard; and, in my judgment, 
 whether measured by the immediate or the perma- 
 nent effects of his addresses, takes his place in the 
 rank of the great orators of the world." 
 
 The Plymouth Church pastorate of Mr. Beecher 
 ..may be conveniently divided into three periods : 
 llihe ante-bellum period with its intense excitements 
 growing out of the agitation of the subject of slavery, 
 in which Mr. Beecher took a prominent part as 
 preacher, platform speaker, and editor; the period 
 of the Civil War, when his fame as a preacher and 
 orator was at its maximum; and the period covered 
 by and following the Tilton scandal with its dire 
 effects upon his reputation and influence. 
 
 Eloquence is dependent upon the man, the occa- 
 sion and the theme of speech. It is not enough for 
 its highest exhibition that a man have all the gifts 
 and accomplishments of the orator to the highest 
 degree. There must be worthy occasions and topics 
 to stimulate the man to the utmost. Slavery and 
 its aggressions and wrongs furnished Mr. Beecher 
 these occasions and topics. From the time he went 
 to Brooklyn to the outbreak of the Civil War, the 
 atmosphere of our country was heated and stifling 
 and reverberant with the signs of the gathering 
 
 350 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 tempest. Beecher's whole soul with all his magnifi- 
 cent powers of conscience and love of righteousness, 
 hatred of wTong, imaginative sympathy and generous 
 sensibilities, were stirred and enlisted in the conflict 
 of opinion. He was irresistible in his advocacy of 
 the cause of the slave and in his plea for his eman- 
 cipation. Even those who supported slavery and 
 were strongly biased by its commercial interests 
 were subdued to better sentiments when they came 
 under the spell of his eloquence. Dr. Abbott gives 
 this striking instance: *'It is 1858. A Southern 
 slaveholder is at my side. The preacher has declared, 
 as he often did, that he has no will to interfere with 
 slavery in the States. No wish to stir up insurrec- 
 tion and discontent in the slave. But he will not 
 obey the Fugitive Slave Law. Thereupon he pic- 
 tures the discontented slave escaping, portrays him 
 stealthily creeping out from his log cabin at night; 
 seeking a shelter in the swamp, feeding on its roots 
 and berries, pursued by baying bloodhounds; 
 making his way toward liberty, the north star his 
 only guide; reaching the banks of the Ohio river; 
 crossing it to find the Fugitive Slave Law spread 
 like a net to catch him. And I see the fugitive, and 
 hear the hounds and my own heart beats with his 
 hopes and fears; and then the preacher cries: *Has 
 he a right to flee.^ If he were my son and did not 
 seek liberty I would write across his name * Dis- 
 owned,' " and he writes it with his finger as he 
 speaks, and I see the letters of flaming fire; and the 
 slaveholder at my side catches his breath while he 
 nods an involuntary assent; and as we walk out 
 
 351 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 together he says: "I could not agree with all he said, 
 but it was great, and he is a good man." 
 
 The second period in Mr. Beecher's Brooklyn 
 pastorate, that of the Civil War, was marked by two 
 extraordinary efforts : He first endeavored by tongue 
 and pen to bring public opinion up to the point of 
 demanding the abolishment of slavery, which was 
 done by President Lincoln's Emancipation Procla- 
 mation of January, 1863. To us at this distance, it 
 does not seem possible that this could have required 
 any extraordinary effort. Had not slavery caused 
 the war with all its cost of blood and treasure? Was 
 it anything other than a just retribution upon the 
 Confederate States in rebellion, to destroy the hate- 
 ful institution that had wrought such mischief.'^ 
 Furthermore, it was demanded as a wise war meas- 
 ure. As long as the President stayed his hand from 
 signing the proclamation that set the slaves free, 
 those slaves were made the unwilling but valuable 
 helpers of the rebellion. They tilled the fields and 
 raised the crops that supported its armies in the 
 field. They were their body servants and teamsters 
 and the custodians of their homes, while their masters 
 were battling at the front to resist and destroy the 
 United States government. Strike off their fetters 
 and proclaim their freedom and they would become 
 the government's helpers, reinforce its armies and 
 otherwise render it invaluable service. 
 
 But these considerations, so obvious to us now, 
 were strangely inoperative then. The Union states- 
 men and the President himself were slow to perceive 
 their force and act accordingly. It required an 
 
 352 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 immense volum^e of argument and a flood of eloquent 
 exhortation from those who appreciated the situa- 
 tion to bring about the decree of liberty to the slave. 
 And Beecher was foremost among those whose 
 voices pleaded for it, and at length prevailed. 
 
 The second extraordinary effort was put forth by 
 Mr. Beecher while visiting England for needed rest 
 in the fall of 1863, in the endeavor to create there a 
 sentiment favorable to the North, to counteract the 
 influence of Confederate emissaries and the English 
 aristocracy in behalf of the South. This influence 
 had become so powerful that the English government 
 was more than half inclined to join Louis Napoleon, 
 the French Emperor, in an act of forcible interven- 
 tion for the recognition of the Confederate States. 
 It wavered, because the English common people as 
 distinguished from the higher classes, sympathized 
 with the North. But the sufferings of the common 
 people, produced by our great war through the sus- 
 pension or stagnation of the great industries by 
 which they earned their support, were chillingly 
 discouraging these sympathies as year after year 
 went by without ending the war and bringing them 
 relief. When Beecher arrived there, on his way 
 home after some weeks of recuperation and rest on 
 the continent, the American cause was wavering in 
 the balance; the critical moment, in fact, had come, 
 and he was importuned by the friends of our country 
 to speak on the issues of the war. Their entreaties 
 prevailed, though he had thrice before refused, in 
 the belief that any effort he might make would 
 prove vain, and arrangements were made for a series 
 
 23 353 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of speeches at Manchester, Glasgow, Edinburgh, 
 Liverpool and London. 
 
 No sooner was the announcement made than the 
 Rebel sympathizers planned to thwart his purpose 
 and prevent his being heard by vociferous interrup- 
 tions and noise, by capturing, in short, the meetings 
 advertized and turning them to their own advantage. 
 "So long as physical violence is not resorted to," says 
 Abbott, "this sort of tactics seems to be treated in 
 England as a legitimate part of the game." Blood- 
 red placards were posted in the streets of the cities 
 where he was to speak. They called upon the mob 
 to prevent his speaking by misreporting his past 
 utterances and by gross libels of his character and 
 purpose. No wonder that he was in an agony of 
 depression before he entered upon his task and spent 
 most of the morning on his knees. Like Jacob he 
 wrestled with God, and like him he prevailed, so 
 that before going to the meeting in Manchester "a 
 great sense of repose" was given him. We will not 
 undertake to describe each meeting nor is it neces- 
 sary. He encountered a similar experience in them 
 all. "It was like talking to a storm at sea," he 
 says of his address at Manchester; and of his address 
 at Liverpool, where the uproar was greatest and 
 most prolonged, where for an hour and a half he 
 fought the mob before he got control, "I sometimes 
 felt," he says, "like a shipmaster attempting to 
 preach on board of a ship through a speaking 
 trumpet, with a tornado on the sea and a mutiny 
 among the men." 
 
 Not to prolong our account, suflfice it to say that 
 
 354 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 in every one of those five places he gained the mas- 
 tery over his audience by his wit, his good-natured 
 patience, his artful and subduing eloquence, and 
 compelled them to hear him. The addresses were 
 fully reported and widely published by the English 
 press. Such unity pervaded them that they seemed 
 like one connected speech and they presented and 
 vindicated the cause of the North so well that the 
 thought of intervention was abandoned. "Prob- 
 ably," says Mark Hopkins, "the world has seen no 
 grander instance of the ascendency of eloquence and 
 of the personal power of a single man, and he a 
 foreigner, in the face of prejudiced and excited 
 mobs." 
 
 When Mr. Beecher returned to America, he re- 
 ceived such an ovation as few American citizens 
 ever received from their grateful countrymen. Well 
 had it been for his happiness and perhaps for his 
 fame if then he had died in the fifty-first year of his 
 age. But for his purification he must needs pass 
 through a fiery furnace, in the heat and anguish of 
 which he wished for death a thousand times before 
 that boon was granted him. This brings us to the 
 third notable epoch of his Brooklyn pastorate, — 
 that covered by the Tilton scandal and its dire effects 
 for a time upon his good name. We do not propose 
 to enter upon a rehearsal of this strange and mys- 
 terious affair. It remains still an unsolved mystery, 
 and perhaps always wull remain so. If any one is 
 curious to learn all that is now known about it, he 
 can turn to the twelfth chapter of Abbott's book, 
 or the fuller account given by Dr. Barrows' volume 
 
 S55 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 (chapters 37-40). The writer's opinion is that there 
 was no truth in the charges made against him. He 
 holds this opinion because of the published state- 
 ment of Mr. Wm. A. Beach, Tilton's counsel: "I 
 had not been four days on the trial before I was con- 
 fident that he was innocent" ; because Judge Neilson, 
 who presided at this trial, was of this opinion; 
 because of all the writer saw and heard as a member 
 of the celebrated Plymouth Church council sum- 
 moned to review the case after it had been passed 
 upon by the courts, and which, after the fullest 
 investigation, unanimously pronounced him still 
 worthy of confidence as a Christian minister; and 
 because his own church, the great Plymouth Church, 
 whose charities and honorable men are widely 
 known, remained steadfast in its confidence, solidly 
 and unitedly so, to the end of his life. This could 
 not have been so, and never is the case, where there 
 is any good ground of suspicion that the minister, 
 who is accused of this particular sin alleged against 
 him, is guilty. For these reasons, and for the psy- 
 chological reason that the writer repeatedly attended 
 Plymouth Church during that period, and heard 
 Mr. Beecher's public prayers, and could not believe 
 it possible for a man to pray as he did if that man 
 were an immoral man, or a hypocrite — he, therefore, 
 agrees with Dr. Lyman Abbott in saying: "Person- 
 ally I believe that future history will attach as little 
 emphasis to this episode in the life of Beecher as 
 history now attaches to analogous imputations, with 
 far more to give them color, brought against John 
 Wesley in his lifetime." 
 
 356 
 
HENRY WARD BEECHER 
 
 What now, in conclusion, shall we say of him? 
 Not that he was a perfect man; he had unquestion- 
 ably his faults — trivial faults, however — faults which 
 he himself confessed and deplored more than did his 
 friends; but they were the faults of a great mariy 
 whose greatness so impresses us that we are in- 
 clined to forget or condone these faults. He was also 
 a large-hearted, broad-minded, good man, whose 
 goodness remains unimpeachable in spite of the dark 
 cloud which for a while cast its shadow upon him. 
 It is safe to say that people of candor generally 
 believe this. Striking evidence of it is to be seen 
 there in Brooklyn, where he lived for nearly forty 
 years and was best known. As the people filed past 
 his coffin in Plymouth Church, "the suggestion was 
 made," says Dr. Abbott, "that a statue should be 
 erected by citizens of Brooklyn to his memory. In 
 less than two weeks after his death, a meeting of 
 citizens was held to forward this movement, and it 
 was so largely attended that many were unable to 
 gain admittance to the room. The money for the 
 purpose was easily obtained, rather it should be 
 said, was spontaneously offered, and in June, 1891, 
 the statue, designed by J. Q. A. Ward, was erected 
 in City Hall Square, facing the building where he 
 had been put on trial as for his life, and remaining 
 there a perpetual witness to the judgment of the 
 citizens of Brooklyn between him and his accusers." 
 
 It presents a good likeness of the man, as he ap- 
 peared in his later years. It seems appropriate that 
 it should stand in that crowded city square sur- 
 rounded by all sorts and conditions of men, for whom 
 
 357 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 his great heart beat in sympathy. He was a man 
 of the people and Hved for them. One may easily 
 imagine those lips of bronze softening to flexible 
 flesh and speaking once more in the tones of that 
 "witching voice," which entranced men so often 
 for their good. The memories of his compassion for 
 the poor and oppressed, and of his terrific scorn for 
 all unrighteous, conscienceless scoundrels, whom no 
 appeal of weakness or misery can move to pity or 
 compunction, it is good for men to have revived. 
 They make this place a place for repentance and the 
 beginning of a new life to some; to others a place of 
 gratitude for God's gift of good men to this sin- 
 stricken earth. Dr. Barrows says rightly, that 
 Lowell's characterization of Lincoln "was equally 
 true of Mr. Beecher." 
 
 "His was no lonely mountain peak of mind, 
 
 Broad prairie rather, genial, level-lined, 
 Fruitful and friendly to all human kind, 
 Yet also nigh to heaven, and loved of loftiest stars." 
 
 358 
 
X 
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
X 
 
 PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 1835-1893 
 
 In an interesting comparison of Henry Ward 
 Beecher and Phillips Brooks as preachers, Dr. 
 Lyman Abbott says: "I should describe Phillips 
 Brooks as the greater preacher, but Mr. Beecher 
 as the greater orator"; the distinctive function of 
 the preacher being, in his opinion, "the unveiling 
 of the invisible world, looking himself and enabling 
 others also to look upon the things which are unseen 
 and eternal." This was the exclusive mission of 
 Phillips Brooks and in the fulfillment of this he is 
 unsurpassed. Dr. Abbott thinks, by any American 
 preacher. In this opinion we agree with him after 
 a careful study of Brooks' life and ministry. 
 
 He was the second son, in a family of six boys, of 
 William Gray Brooks and Mary Ann Phillips. He 
 owed much to his parents, both of whom belonged 
 to the best and most distinguished of the old New 
 England families. *'The consummate flower of nine 
 generations of cultured Puritan stock," Dr. Brastow 
 says. ("Representative Modern Preachers.") We 
 can recall no public man of the last century who 
 outranks him in this respect of ancestral worth. 
 A long line of ancestors, eminent for piety, culture, 
 learning, wealth and high social position, he was 
 
 361 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 able to look back upon from both sides of his parental 
 house. It is an interesting genealogical history which 
 is presented to us in the first chapter of his "Life" 
 by Professor Allen, his biographer — one replete with 
 profitable suggestions and numerous anecdotes. 
 
 Phillips Brooks united in his own person and 
 character the most remarkable traits and qualities 
 of both parents. It was indeed a rich inheritance 
 which he derived from them. 
 
 A friend of Phillips Brooks has given us the fol- 
 lowing account of them and of what they each be- 
 queathed to their gifted son. "Mr. Brooks (the 
 father) always gave me the notion of a typical 
 Boston merchant, solid, upright, unimaginative, 
 unemotional. Mrs. Brooks gave me the notion of a 
 woman of an intense emotional nature; the very 
 tones of her voice vibratory with feeling and deep 
 spiritual life — the temperament of genius and the 
 saintly character. I felt that Phillips Brooks owed 
 to his father very much — the businesslike and or- 
 derly habit; the administrative faculty which worked 
 so easily; the clear logical understanding (combined 
 with powers of clear conception and statement) 
 that framed so well the skeletons of those sermons, 
 which the intuitive reason, the active imagination, 
 the literary sense, the spiritual fire (qualities derived 
 from his mother) so richly filled out and inspired 
 afterwards; 9.nd the strong common sense that no 
 fervor of feeling, no passionate outburst of soul, 
 could ever sweep from its anchorage. But I never 
 had a question that what made Phillips Brooks a 
 prophet, a leader, a power among men, was from 
 
 362 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 the Phillips (the mother's) side of the family. The 
 stalwart form, the big heart, the shapely head, the 
 changeful countenance, the voice that so easily grew 
 tremulous with feeling, the eager look and gesture, 
 the magnetism, the genius seemed to me, and I be- 
 lieve seemed to him, his mother's. The father saw 
 things as they were; she saw things in vision, ideally 
 as they should be. So Phillips Brooks knew the 
 facts of life, seeing with his father's eyes, and all the 
 hopes and possibilities of life through the eyes of 
 his mother." 
 
 His biographer, commenting upon this fusion of 
 the qualities of both parents in his personality, 
 adds: "Had he received by transmission only the 
 outlook of his father, without the inspired heroism 
 of his mother, he would not have risen to greatness. 
 But, on the other hand, had he inherited from his 
 mother alone, he might have been known as an 
 ardent reformer, not unlike his kinsman Wendell 
 Phillips, but the wonderful fascination of his power 
 for men of every class and degree, the universal 
 appeal to a common humanity, would have been 
 wanting." 
 
 Phillips Brooks was almost as fortunate in his 
 birthplace as in his parentage. Boston at that time 
 was, more than now, the highest seat of culture and 
 refinement in our country. Its atmosphere was 
 magnetic and stimulating from the social and public 
 influences generated by its historic memories, its 
 eminent citizens, its civic privileges, its constellation 
 of brilliant authors, its enterprising publishing 
 houses, its superior schools, libraries and educational 
 
 363 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 advantages, its distinguished preachers and flourish- 
 ing churches. All these advantages to the highest 
 degree were enjoyed by Phillips Brooks through the 
 high social position of his parents. Possessed of 
 ample means they lavished upon their sons every 
 educational advantage that could contribute to their 
 welfare, besides devoting themselves at home to their 
 happiness and culture. He was educated at Boston's 
 famous Latin School and at Harvard College, receiv- 
 ing from the former excellent instruction and train- 
 ing in the principles of English Composition and 
 the Ancient Classics, and at college having a taste 
 for literature developed which he gratified by wide 
 and diligent reading. He read with extraordinary 
 speed. He was endowed, like Macaulay, with a 
 marvelous gift of very rapidly taking in a printed 
 page. "His record as a student," his biographer 
 says, "shows that he possessed the capacity for 
 exact scholarship, but also that he had no ambition 
 to maintain a high rank in his class. He stood 
 thirteenth in a class of sixty-six. He took his college 
 course easily. He gave the impression of one who 
 was not obliged to drudge in order to master his 
 studies." His thorough training, his quick insight, 
 his capacity for mental concentration enabled him to 
 perform with ease and speed the required task, 
 leaving him abundant leisure for discursive reading, 
 the mastery of books, and the observation of life." 
 "He gave no sign of being an orator. When he 
 became known in after years as a pulpit orator, 
 those who remembered him in his college days were 
 surprised." But he disclosed in those college days 
 
 364 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 uncommon ability as a writer. "In the occasional 
 papers (presented to 'The Hasty Pudding' and the 
 A. A. 4>. college societies of which he was a member), 
 where he chose his own subject and was in sympathy 
 with his audience, free to give full expression to 
 his thought, his wit, or humor, he was unsurpassed." 
 Having thus sketched his mental development, 
 it remains to speak of his spiritual and religious devel- ' 
 opment. His mother w^as his first and most impor- 
 tant religious teacher. "Phillips Brooks' mother," 
 says Dr. W. N. Clarke, "was one of the most reli- 
 gious of the religious, intense, conscientious, self- 
 sacrificing, rapturous. Few men have ever known 
 such mother-love as embraced this son so long as 
 his mother lived." She was a woman of extraordi- 
 nary piety. She possessed all the fervor of a primi- 
 tive Methodist, united with the intelligence and 
 keen spiritual perception of the descendant of a 
 long line of the most learned of the New England 
 divines. "She had a deep interior life of the soul 
 whose phases were more real and vital than the 
 phenomena of the passing world. Religion to her 
 was a life in Christ, and her love for Christ and his 
 truth was a passion. She was a diligent student 
 of the Bible and its teaching, that she might better 
 teach her children. In this task of teaching her 
 children religion she was diligent and indefatigable, 
 laboring with a concentrated purpose in season 
 and out of season, never for a moment forgetful of 
 her mission, quick to seize the passing moment 
 which seemed fertile for opportunity, but withal 
 gentle and alluring and making religion attractive." 
 
 365 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 She showed remarkable wisdom in her religious 
 teaching and effort to win her sons one by one to 
 a personal self-commitment to the Christian life. 
 **She studied her opportunities of approach to the 
 soul," Professor Allen says. She knew when to 
 speak and when to keep silent, careful not to press 
 them, in her zeal, to the point of disgust and repul- 
 sion of the subject which she was so earnest to have 
 them consider. To an anxious mother she once said, 
 "There is an age when it is not well to follow or 
 question your boy too closely. Up to that time 
 you may carefully instruct and direct him; as you 
 are his best friend. He is never happy unless the 
 story of the day has been told ; you must hear about 
 his friends, his school; all that interests him must 
 be your interest. Suddenly these confidences cease; 
 the affectionate son becomes reserved and silent; 
 he seeks the intimate friendship of other lads; he 
 goes out; he is averse to telling where he is going or 
 how long he will be gone. He comes in and goes 
 silently to his room. All this is a startling change 
 to the mother; but it is also her opportunity to 
 practice wisdom by loving and praying for and 
 absolutely trusting her son. The faithful instruc- 
 tion and careful training during his early years the 
 son can never forget. Therefore trust not only your 
 heavenly Father, but your son. The period of 
 which I speak appears to me to be one in which the 
 boy dies and the man is born; his individuality 
 rises up before him, and he is dazed and almost 
 overwhelmed by his first consciousness of himself. 
 I have always believed that it was then that the 
 
 366 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 Creator was speaking with my sons, and that it 
 was good for their souls to be left alone with him, 
 while I, their mother, stood trembling, praying and 
 waiting, knowing that when the man was developed 
 from the boy I should have my sons again and there 
 would be a deeper sympathy than ever between us." 
 
 Happily her efforts were w^armly assisted by her 
 husband and her pastor, Dr. A. H. Vinton, the 
 minister of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Boston, 
 which they made their religious home when Phillips 
 was four years old, they having previously attended 
 the First Church (Unitarian). 
 
 Upon his graduation from Harvard, Phillips 
 Brooks, then not twenty years old, obtained the 
 appointment of usher, or subordinate teacher, in 
 the Boston Latin School. He had not made any 
 public profession of religion then and had no inclina- 
 tion to become a preacher of the gospel. His plan 
 was, after gaining some experience in teaching in 
 the Latin School, to go abroad for further study and 
 fit himself for a college professorship. But "though 
 man proposes God disposes": never was there a 
 more striking example of this truth. His experi- 
 ment in teaching proved an utter and most humiliat- 
 ing failure, and he resigned his position in a few 
 months. The cause of his failure was his inability 
 to maintain good order among the unruly, rowdyish 
 set of boys placed under him. He was made of too 
 gentle stuff to cope successfully with those turbulent 
 spirits. 
 
 After a season of uncertainty and bewilderment 
 he turned his thoughts to the Christian ministry, 
 
 367 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and entered the Episcopal Theological School in 
 Alexandria, Va., not yet having received confirma- 
 tion, by which in the Episcopal Church its adherents 
 publicly profess their faith. This act was delayed 
 until the close of his first year in the seminary, in- 
 dicating how abruptly he had entered upon his 
 studies for the ministry. He apparently fled (se- 
 cretly) to the seminary to hide his shame. But 
 though he had made no public profession of faith, 
 we have a signal proof that he was not without 
 faith, in the words preserved for us by Professor 
 Allen, "with which he closed the record of his 
 thoughts on the eve of his departure for Virginia": 
 
 '^As we pass from some experience to some experi- 
 ment, from a tried to an untried life, it is as when we 
 turn to a new page in a book we have never read before, 
 but whose author we know and love and trust to give 
 us on every page words of counsel and purity and 
 strengthening virtue.'^ 
 
 He did not find the Theological School pleasant 
 or satisfactory. It was a poor, ill-furnished, meagerly 
 equipped institution. Writing to his father soon 
 after his arrival he said: 'Tt is the most shiftless, 
 slipshod place I ever saw. The instruction here is 
 very poor. All that we get in the lecture and recita- 
 tion-rooms I consider worth just nothing." There 
 was on the Faculty only one man of mark and ability 
 in teaching. Dr. Sparrow, and he "so out of health 
 that we seldom see him and when we do he is too 
 unwell to exert himself at all." The library he 
 describes as "worth just nothing at all, pretty much 
 like all the rest of the seminary, which seems poorer 
 
 368 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 and poorer to me every day." Finally he says near 
 the end of the first year: "I have serious doubts 
 whether it will be worth while for me to come back 
 here for two more years, whether it won't be better 
 to study at home, if this is really the best seminary 
 in the country." He would have found Andover a 
 far better seminary, where was a staff of very able 
 theological instructors and a kind of teaching vastly 
 superior; and near the end of the year he writes 
 to his father: "I am thinking strongly of Andover, 
 please let me know what you think of it." For some 
 inexplicable reason he did not go to Andover, which, 
 in addition to its strong Faculty, on which were 
 Professors Park, Phelps, and Shedd, then in their 
 meridian glory, and a well-furnished library and other 
 inviting conveniences, possessed the additional rec- 
 ommendation of having been established and en- 
 dowed by his maternal ancestors. 
 
 The scheme was not favored it seems by his pastor, 
 Dr. Vinton, or his father, and probably it was quite 
 as well for him to stay in Alexandria. The defects 
 in his seminary curriculum and teaching, says his 
 biographer, "forced him to work for himself, to take 
 his theological education in a measure into his own 
 hand," and this self -education proved better in his 
 case probably than the best teaching he could have 
 received from the ablest theological faculty. It 
 begot in him independence of mind and habits of 
 solitary thought and study, of free investigation 
 and diligent reading that were of the greatest value. 
 
 The students of the seminary also, in the lack of 
 competent teachers, gave to themselves a teaching 
 
 24 369 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 and drill in their clubs and societies that was in some 
 respects superior to anything they could have found 
 in the classroom or private instruction of the best 
 professor. They criticized one another with a 
 freedom and justice and wholesome severity which 
 would have been called harsh and cruel in him. 
 Two examples are given in Professor Allen's life of 
 Brooks: There was among the students a young 
 man of sonorous voice and showy physique, but 
 meagre attainments, who met with small success 
 in his essays at preaching. He asked, "why, with 
 his fine presence and striking elocution, he made no 
 better impression as a preacher .f^" "Why," an- 
 swered a classmate, "you don't know enough. You 
 don't study enough. You are too noisy. Perhaps 
 if you'd take more load on your cart, it would not 
 rattle so." 
 
 Another example is one where a sermon of Brooks 
 himself was the subject of criticism. It was his 
 first sermon, on the text, "The simplicity that is in 
 Christ," 2 Cor. 11:3. "A cruel classmate's criti- 
 cism," he says, "was that there was very little sim- 
 plicity in the sermon and no Christ." He adds, "The 
 sermon was never preached again. It was an at- 
 tempt to define doctrine instead of to show a man, 
 a God, a Savior." 
 
 By his professors and fellow students Mr. Brooks 
 was quickly recognized as a star of first magnitude. 
 "As a classical scholar," .says a classmate, "none 
 matched him. The Greek of the New Testament 
 Epistles, as he dealt with it, 'rejoiced like Enoch in 
 being translated.' " His rare gifts as a writer were 
 
 370 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 manifest in his earliest essays. The style ha 
 grace of the after-sermons, a nameless quality i ij^^ 
 made some of us feel that we must begin over agi^g- 
 The same with the thought. It never seemed like 
 yours or what might come in time to be yours. 
 The only cheering thing about it was that it sur- 
 prised the professors. There was some comfort in 
 hearing Dr. Sparrow say: "Mr. Brooks is very 
 remarkable"; and "that he recognized in him a 
 pupil who needed none of his instruction." The 
 late Dr. W. N. Clarke thus briefly sums up the work 
 done by Phillips Brooks at the theological seminary 
 in Alexandria: "In the three years that he spent 
 there his first conscious and well-directed work was 
 done. The seminary was so little absorbing that 
 he took his own way and it was the way of reading. 
 His reading was enormous in amount and very wide 
 in range. He sought to lay hold upon the best 
 that the human mind had done, and to make it his 
 own."* 
 
 One practice observed by him in the seminary 
 preserves the record of his reading and its wide 
 range, that contributed greatly to his development 
 of mind. He never was without a note-book, to 
 record the books he read, to preserve extracts from 
 them that he deemed especially notable and worth 
 preserving, and the thoughts of his own suggested 
 by them. These thoughts are upon every variety 
 of subject, and possess an originality, a depth, wis- 
 dom and value that are most remarkable. Many of 
 them are equal to the ideas and reflections of his 
 
 * See Art. Huxley and Phillips Brooks. Bib. Sac, Jan. 1902, Vol. 59. 
 
 371 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 lys. As an exercise, it was of inestimable 
 in developing his powers of independent 
 /Qght, and training him to the clear and easy 
 c'xpression of his thought. "One of the most impor- 
 tant features of the note-books," Professor A Hen 
 points out, "is the intimations they contain of a 
 profound conception of the scheme of things, 
 wrought out by an isolated student in much inward 
 perturbation with no assistance from his teachers. 
 When Phillips Brooks left home for the theological 
 seminary, he provided himself in advance with these 
 books, in anticipation of the service they would 
 render. When he reached his new abode, and found 
 himself among strangers, in an inconvenient room, 
 with a bed too short for him, with no *arm chair' 
 or any of the comforts and conveniences of life, 
 with only the light afforded by a tallow candle, 
 he sat down at the earliest moment to his self-imposed 
 task and continued the work of registering his 
 thoughts. He divided his note-book in two equal 
 parts, the first for holding remarks of others worth 
 copying, hints and suggestions from his reading, 
 stray bits of information, all the items in short for 
 a miscellaneous commonplace-book. In the second 
 half he wrote down the thoughts which were his 
 own. It is worth mentioning that he filled out the 
 second half of the book long before the first, and 
 went back to fill the empty pages with the ideas 
 that were coming thick and fast." 
 
 "The first thing which impresses one in turning 
 over these note-books is the capacity shown for 
 high scholarship. Greek and Latin were no longer 
 
 372 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 dead languages, but were at his disposal. . . . 
 Thus in the first few months after he reached the 
 seminary, we find him reading Herodotus and Aes- 
 chylus, and among Latin writers, Plautus, Lucretius, 
 and Lucan; of ecclesiastical writers, Augustine, 
 Tertullian and the venerable Bede. Tertullian 
 attracted with him a singular charm, as though he 
 found in that vehement, passionate soul something 
 akin to his own moods. From all these writers 
 he was making extracts, sometimes in the original, 
 or translating as an exercise for the mastery of the 
 language. Schiller's 'Wallenstein' also attracted 
 him and he kept up his French by reading Saint 
 Pierre's 'Etudes de la Nature.' He had special 
 qualifications for such work in his gift for languages. 
 
 "Next to the study of the classics and early eccle- 
 siastical writers comes his devotion to English litera- 
 ture. He was reading so many books during his 
 first year in the seminary that one marvels how he 
 found time for the required tasks of daily recitations." 
 Professor Allen names thirty-four English authors 
 ''into whom he is dipping at will, from whom also he 
 is making extracts in his note -books. The quota- 
 tions he copies reveal the character of his mind; 
 and there is disclosed here a veritable hunger to 
 know the best thought of the world." 
 
 "The note-books indicate that in his reading he 
 kept his eye upon one incidental object, the accumu- 
 lation of ideas, of pithy phrases, or epigrammatic 
 statements, and above all of similes and comparisons. 
 These he puts down in condensed form as so much 
 material for future use. There are many hundreds 
 
 373 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of similes collected here, which afterwards reappeared 
 in his preaching." 
 
 His biographer states that in all his reading and 
 thinking he had one particular aim of supreme 
 importance. It was "to trace the connection between 
 ideas and principles of conduct, between theological 
 dogmas and the actual life of the soul, to show how 
 they ministered to the growth of a man in righteous- 
 ness of character. Confronted as he was with 
 doctrines and dogmas, whose acceptance was re- 
 garded as important, he asked for their nexus with 
 the human will, or with the reason and the feeling 
 that led as motives to the action of the will." If 
 he found no connection he called them "theological 
 dry rot." "There was another thought," says 
 Professor Allen, "much in his mind and finding 
 frequent expression, which was to become one of 
 his ruling ideas — that truth had many aspects, that 
 what failed to bring one man strength or consolation 
 might to another be the source of joy and peace. 
 To condemn another man's belief or to sneer at it 
 was madness": "Poor feeble creatures in a feeble 
 world, we each must catch what is most comfort 
 to his feebleness. Believe in mine for me, I will 
 believe in yours for you. Surely we each have 
 quite enough to do to hold our own, without this 
 cruel folly of saying to another, 'Your comfort is a 
 cheat, your hope a heresy, the earnest life you are 
 living a lie.' " 
 
 "Now and then," says Dr. Allen, "but rarely, he 
 jots down in his note-book some item gained from 
 his teachers. Whatever help by way of suggestion 
 
 374 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 and inspiration was afforded by Dr. Sparrow, yet 
 the ultimate solution of theological problems was 
 made by Phillips Brooks himself in his own 
 distinctive manner." 
 
 Examples from his note-books of the first year 
 in the seminary (he was then only twenty-one) are: 
 "We must learn the infinite capacity of truth to ^ 
 speak to every human mind, and of every human 
 mind to hear, and more or less completely understand 
 the truth that speaks. . . . Let us then rever- 
 ence our neighbor's way of finding truth. If by 
 his life and faith we can clearly see that he is finding / 
 it indeed, let us not turn away because he hears it /^ 
 in another tongue than ours. The speaker is the 
 same. If he can read in a stormy sky, or a sunny 
 landscape, lessons for which we must go to books 
 and sermons so much the better for him." 
 
 "A noble principle or thought, like the widow's 
 barrel and cruse is never dry. We draw on it for 
 our daily life, we drink of its power in our weakness, 
 and taste its power in our despair; but God's bless- 
 ing is on it and the fulness of his truth is filling it, and 
 so it never fails. We come back to it in our next 
 weakness or our next despondency, and find it 
 thoughtful and hopeful as ever, till the famine is 
 over, and, kept alive and nurtured by its strength, 
 we come forth to gather new harvests of great 
 thoughts." 
 
 Like almost all successful preachers, he began to 
 preach while a student in the seminary. In his 
 senior year he and another member of his class took 
 charge of a small mission at Sharon, three miles 
 
 375 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 j 
 
 distant. This is the best way to learn to preach. ; 
 Thus only can the powers that are used in preaching, ^ 
 especially extempore preaching, be developed. He is \ 
 said to have made a total failure on his first attempt, I 
 receiving as his only encouragement the advice to \ 
 "try again." This he did, and with such promising i 
 success, that he soon after wrote to his brother, 
 "Though no orator as Brutus is, it goes pretty glib." | 
 Better evidence than this is found in the fact that '• 
 two strangers toward the end of the year were seen 
 in his congregation, who after the sermon sought 
 an interview with him, and so favorably impressed 
 had they been with his sermon, invited him in the . 
 name of their church, whose committee they were, 
 to become the pastor of the Church of the Advent, 
 Philadelphia. He accepted the call and entered j 
 upon his work on Sunday, July 10, 1859, at the | 
 age of twenty-three and one-half years. j 
 
 Ten years he labored in Philadelphia, two and j 
 one-half years as minister of the Church of the ] 
 Advent, seven and one-half as minister of the Church 
 of the Holy Trinity. Twenty-two years he la- j 
 bored in Boston as minister of Trinity Church, and I 
 for a year and a half he served his Church as the \ 
 Bishop of Massachusetts. \ 
 
 His development in pulpit power as a preacher ; 
 of the gospel was rapid, almost astonishing, and his ! 
 reputation as a remarkable preacher soon became ; 
 established and wide-spread. Of course he did not ; 
 at once attain the acme of his power. This had its ^ 
 stages of growth, like that of lesser men, and it did 
 not reach its culmination until he went to Boston ; 
 
 376 I 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 and was midway in his ministry there, but the 
 chief quahties that characterized his preaching in 
 the fulness and maturity of his glorious manhood, 
 were developed and manifested in those years of his 
 early ministry spent in Philadelphia. "Later years," 
 says Dr. Brastow, "may have witnessed in many 
 respects more important service for the church and 
 the world, but none were marked by greater intel- 
 lectual brilliancy or more popular effectiveness 
 than those years of the Philadelphia ministry." 
 
 What then were the chief characteristics^fj;iis 
 IDireaching.'^ What qualities distinguished this great 
 man, who for a full generation, upward of thirty- 
 three years, was to stand before the American people 
 in two of their chief cities and proclaim to them with 
 most convincing and impressive powers the everlast- 
 ing gospel of Christ.'* 
 
 (1) He was a magnificent specimen of physical 
 manhood. Tall of stature — six feet four inches — 
 of stalwart, symmetrical form, which was surmounted 
 by a large, shapely head with dark, kindly eyes and 
 noble features, expressive mouth and chin, uncon- 
 cealed by any beard, the very appearance of the 
 man drew attention. 
 
 (2) An agreeable voice, which Dr. Brastow de- 
 scribes (in "Representative Modern Preachers") as 
 "a full, strong voice, not well-managed, but full of 
 feeling and force." It was "not well-managed," 
 because, unlike Beecher, he never tried to improve 
 it by judicious elocutionary training; he "despised 
 elocution as begetting self -consciousness, at war with 
 naturalness and simplicity." In his case, his agree- 
 
 377 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 able sympathetic voice with its unspoiled natural- 
 ness joined to his unconscious earnestness was 
 probably an advantage, in spite of the torrent-like 
 rapidity of his utterance. 
 
 (3) He was a very thoughtful preacher. In the 
 natural opulence and productiveness of his mind 
 he resembled Beecher. But he greatly surpassed 
 Beecher as a scholar and in the extent of his reading 
 and literary culture. He laid under tribute nearly 
 the whole realm of good literature. And so there 
 was in his sermons, as Professor Allen says, "an 
 indescribable flavor of the world's richest literature." 
 They possess also a greater literary value than 
 Beecher's as sermon literature, because of the supe- 
 rior training in English received by him in the Latin 
 School and at Harvard, and his constant practice 
 of careful writing in his note-books as well as of his 
 sermons. He inherited from his father a talent for 
 clear, exact expression, with which there was united 
 an imaginative charm which arrested attention and 
 held it spellbound. 
 
 (4) He possessed an extraordinary capacity for 
 feeling and especially religious feeling. "It was this 
 element," says Professor Allen, "that formed one 
 large constituent in the secret of his strength. His 
 cajJcity for deep feeling was like the ocean in its 
 majesty; ideas, experiences, the forces of life that 
 appealed to him, roused him as a whirlwind, in 
 waves of inevitable power, and feeling became a 
 torrent until it had found expression. But this 
 feeling found its freest expression in the pulpit, 
 going forth to the great congregation." In this 
 
 378 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 capacity for deep, overwhelming feeling, Brooks 
 and Beecher were alike, and both derived the en- 
 dowment from their mothers. It is characteristic 
 of all the great preachers and is the chief element of 
 impressive, enthralling eloquence. 
 
 (5) He was possessed of a rich and fertile imagina- 
 tion, which gave color to all his preaching. He 
 habitually looked at truth through the revealing or 
 transfiguring light of imagination. "This habit of 
 looking at truth through the imagination, which. 
 Dr. Brastow thinks, was in part at least the result 
 of his study of Alexandrian philosophy and the 
 Church Fathers, Tertullian, Cyprian and Augustine, 
 was prominent in his preaching throughout his ca- 
 reer" ("Representative Preachers"). His mind was 
 /analogical and was quick to discover resemblances. 
 It found in outward things attractive and instructive 
 images of divine truth. His sermon, "The Candle 
 of the Lord," is an interesting example. How 
 skilfully he uses the candle and its relation to the 
 fire that kindles it into a blaze and makes it sub- 
 servient to its uses, as an analogue of man's spirit 
 and its relation to God! 
 
 Through his imagination, Phillips Brooks was an 
 able and most interesting interpreter of truth. 
 By it also he glorified truth and so commended it 
 to men, that they suddenly found it attractive who 
 previously had discovered no beauty or compelling 
 charm in it. 
 
 (6.) His vision of things unseen and eternal was 
 most clear, constant and real. "That vision of 
 soul, that sense of the invisible and eternal," says 
 
 379 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Dr. Brastow, "was one of his choicest gifts and it 
 was nourished by all the choicest sources of his 
 culture and all the great experiences of his life." He 
 inherited this also from his mother. It grew and 
 expanded his horizon with the advancing years. 
 He lived habitually in two worlds, this mundane 
 world and the heavenly world. "In the realm that 
 to Huxley was non-existent for want of evidence," 
 says Dr. W. N. Clarke, "Brooks lived and moved 
 and had his being. Hear the voice of one who finds 
 it most real, and dwells at home in its spiritual 
 atmosphere. Quotation is the quickest way to 
 show what Phillips Brooks found there: *I knew 
 all about God before you told me,' said little blind, 
 deaf, dumb Helen Keller to me one day, *only I did 
 not know His name.' It was a perfect expression 
 of the innateness of the divine idea in the human 
 mind, of the belonging of the human soul to God." 
 In a more personal strain, he says again: "Less 
 and less, I think, grows the consciousness of seeking 
 God. Greater and greater grows the certainty that 
 he is seeking us and giving himself to us to the com- 
 plete measure of our present capacity. 'That is 
 love, not that we loved him, but that he loved us.' 
 There is such a thing as putting ourselves in the way 
 of God's overflowing love and letting it break upon 
 us till the response of love comes, not by struggle, 
 not even by deliberation, but by necessity, as the 
 echo comes when the sound strikes the rock." What 
 language is this, for affirmation of infinite but tangi- 
 ble realities discovered in that world which Huxley 
 found blank and bare! In this region moved year 
 
 380 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 after year the thought and utterance of the man, 
 and the action of his Hfe. There he found a splendid 
 freedom, and his ample powers struck out in generous 
 activity. He did not look into religion and into 
 God as a bird may look from its nest into the open 
 sky. He rose into religion and into God, and was 
 there sustained. 
 
 A beautiful illustration of the truth of Dr. Clarke's 
 representation here of the operation of the religious 
 faculty, in the case of Phillips Brooks and of all 
 whom he inspired with like faith, has been given the 
 writer of this "study," while at work upon it. On 
 the piazza of our summer cottage, some little wrens 
 have built their nest and reared their young. The 
 time having come for their young to leave their 
 nest and launch themselves upon the air in flight, it 
 seemed marvelous, that with no experience in flying, 
 they boldly flung themselves upon the air, as their 
 instinct prompted, and found themselves equipped 
 with the needful wings that carried them safely in 
 it; and that, in a little while, these wings being 
 strengthened and developed by exercise, they found 
 flying a joy and the air their natural element. So 
 let a human soul commit itself to the religious 
 life as taught by Christ, and its faith will be 
 justified that this life is the life for which it was 
 intended. 
 
 "To Phillips Brooks," says Dr. Clarke, "God was 
 the greatest and most certain of realities. Christ 
 has revealed God, and shown what manner of God 
 he is, and to this man Christ stood for God: Christ 
 in the infinite beauty and power of his character 
 
 381 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 meant the meaning of God to him. God meant 
 Christ, and Christ meant God; and under either 
 name he had before him the reahty which he felt to 
 be the glory of this world and of all worlds. / Accord- 
 ingly his keywords were such as God, Christ, the 
 soul, personality, love, life. The keyword of his 
 later ministry was life. In those glorious years of 
 spiritual power he used to say that he had only one 
 text and one sermon, and the one text was, I am 
 come that they might have life, and have it more 
 abundantly. The soul's experience of inexhaust- 
 ible, overflowing life in fellowship with the living 
 God, this was his own theme, and this experience he 
 helped multitudes to make their own."* He might 
 have truly said, with the apostle: "My citizenship 
 is in heaven. I have directed my mind to things 
 above where Christ sitteth on the right hand of 
 God." He walked with God; he conversed with 
 Christ as his most intimate friend. He loved his 
 earthly friends and fondly sought and lingered in 
 their society, but for none of them had he such 
 attachment as for Christ. Him he knew better and 
 from him received an influence more potent, real 
 and palpable than from any other. His mother's 
 exhortations: "Keep close to your Savior, Philly," 
 "Preach Christ faithfully," he carefully observed. 
 
 (7) He possessed an independent mind. Though 
 he studied the works of the great men of the past 
 and of his own time, and appreciated them, the works 
 of the Christian Fathers, of Bacon, Robertson, 
 Bossuet, Goethe, yet he owned none of them as 
 
 * Article, Huxley and Phillips Brooks. Bib. Sac, Vol. LIX, pp. 14-15. 
 
 382 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 master. He weighed the thoughts and opinions of 
 each in the balance of his own mind and accepted 
 what in his judgment was true. He did not give 
 an unquestioning, bhnd assent even to the greatest. 
 Furthermore, he w^as not wilhng to accept another's 
 opinion of a book or author; he wanted to read him 
 for himself. The practice of review reading as a^ 
 substitute for one's personal examination of books, 
 he condemned as unprofitable. "To read merely 
 w^hat some one has said about a book," he says 
 (see "Essays and Addresses," Courage) "is probably 
 as unstimulating, as unfertilizing a process as the 
 human mind can submit to. Read books them- 
 selves. To read a book is to make a friend; if it 
 is worth your reading you meet a man; if there is 
 anything in you, he will quicken it." __^ 
 
 (8) He magnified Christ out of a rich and ever ^ 
 deepening ^personal experience of his grace. His 
 preaching, like that of the apostles, w^as largely a 
 personal testimony, a speaking of things which he 
 has seen and heard. Quite as much as Beecher,. 
 he aimed to hold up and commend Christ to his 
 great congregation, rather than discourse to them 
 upon abstract theological dogmas and abstruse 
 themes. Among his published sermons, there are 
 four or five upon the single text, John 8:12: "I 
 am the Light of the World, he that follow^eth me, 
 etc." We recommend to our readers to read the 
 particular one which furnishes the title to the fifth 
 series of his sermons, "The Light of the World." 
 ' In it, he represents Christ as doing for the individual 
 soul and the world of humanity, what the sun does 
 
 383 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS | 
 
 for the physical world; as waking it up from its ' 
 
 previous darkness, torpidity and sterile state to a ■ 
 
 state of transforming light and life, beauty and 
 fruitfulness. Christ and the soul were meant for ] 
 
 each other as the sun and the earth. And as the ! 
 
 quickening sun in the morning and in the spring- 
 time, calls to the drowsy and frost-blighted earth, 
 to awake and array itself in its beautiful garments, \ 
 
 and in doing this to come on to its true self, so the | 
 
 Christ in like manner calls to man to put off his ] 
 
 sin and misery and enter upon his true life and ful- | 
 
 fill his high destiny. It is a message that appeals 
 to the best that is in man and encourages him to ; 
 
 attempt for himself what is best. It is a gospel ! 
 
 of redemption from sin and death. j 
 
 (9) He possessed a power of imiversal sympathy, ! 
 
 the power of entering into the lives of people of j 
 
 every class, and inspiring them "to the elevation of i 
 
 high strung feeling and purposes." "Marvelously," 
 says a distinguished Methodist preacher,* "did he 
 bring out of that wonderful gospel teachings which 
 appeal to the profound and the learned, and plain ] 
 lessons which also help the unlettered." The ; 
 
 scholar said, "He is of us," and the unlettered, i 
 
 "He is of us." The poor said, "He is of us," and ; 
 
 the rich said, "He is of us." To the young he 
 was full of buoyancy; to the troubled he was a 
 man deeply acquainted with grief. All men, of all 
 classes and conditions claimed him because in his 
 magnificent heart and sympathy he seemed to enter ; 
 
 into their trials, disappointments and successes, j 
 
 * Vol. 2, p. 812 of Professor Allen's LL^e. . 
 
 384 I 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 and had power to heal the soreness of heart which 
 was common to them all. 
 
 (10) He was unmistakably a great man in every 
 respect, phj^sically, mentally, morally and in heart. 
 "I have known," says Dr. Weir Mitchell, "a number 
 of the men we call great — poets, statesmen, soldiers — 
 but Phillips Brooks was the only one I ever knew who 
 seemed to me entirely great." His was that genuine 
 greatness which made itself quickly felt in spite of 
 every obstacle. Personal prejudices, theological 
 differences and antagonisms, sectarian bitterness 
 and worldly-mindedness, pride of intellect — each 
 and all were swept away; men were made captives 
 to his will, and glad to have it so. 
 
 Whatever he did was greatly done. There was 
 the stamp of his great heart and soul upon it. A 
 remarkable example: W^hen still a young man of 
 only twenty-nine, scarcely known outside of Phila- 
 delphia, he was given the signal honor of making 
 the prayer at the commemorative service of Harvard 
 in honor of its soldier dead, who had fallen in the 
 war. "Why should such a part have been given to 
 so young a man on such an important occasion .f'" 
 many asked, and in asking they implied their dis- 
 pleasure and disposition not to be satisfied with 
 any service he might render in performing the difli- 
 cult function. But with the first sentence their 
 attention was caught and they listened breathless. 
 When the prayer was over the people turned and 
 looked at one another and said: "W^hat a prayer!" 
 "It was the most impressive utterance," says Presi- 
 dent Eliot, "of a proud and happy day. Even 
 
 25 385 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Lowell's * Commemoration Ode' did not at the 
 moment so touch the hearts of his hearers." 
 
 His eloquence was unique, entirely unlike that of 
 any other preacher. It owed little or nothing, as 
 we have said, to his elocution or grace of delivery. 
 It was an eloquence entirely of thought and feeling, 
 "a stream of liquid fire, hurrying on in a careless 
 monotone so swiftly as to tease and half baffle the 
 most watchful ear, until the great throng in painful, 
 eager silence became entranced and ecstatic under 
 its influence." This was true of his written sermons 
 closely read, as he stood impassive, almost statu- 
 esque before his audience. He possessed, however, 
 another kind of eloquence, that of the extempore 
 speaker, which was even more wonderful. "As 
 an extempore speaker he was simply matchless," 
 Dr. Weir Mitchell says. This mode of speaking 
 he practiced from the beginning. In Philadelphia 
 he had regularly a Wednesday evening service, at 
 which he usually spoke in this way, and as Dr. Weir 
 Mitchell thought, the most impressively. "There 
 and thus, you got all the impressible sympathy his 
 noble sturdiness (of person) gave to the torrent of 
 speech, which at first had some hesitancy, and then 
 rolled on, easy, fluent and strong." He prepared 
 himself for preaching with the greatest care. His 
 method of preparation is fully described in the 
 fourth chapter of the second volume of Professor 
 Allen's "Life." It is well worth careful study for 
 its homiletic value. It offers the best example of 
 the art of sermon-making we know of. 
 
 The first step was to jot down in his "note-book" 
 
 386 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 (some kind of note-book was his inseparable com- 
 panion) the idea of his sermon, as it occurred to 
 him in his thinking or Bible study. Carrying con- 
 stantly in mind the thought of his ministry, he 
 was always on the lookout for sermon topics, and 
 was quick to catch any hint that might give him a 
 sermon and made haste to write it down with the 
 related suggestions that might come with it. 
 
 Here are two examples: 
 
 John 1:46 "Come and see." 
 
 "The proper appeal that may be made to a sceptic 
 to come and test Christianity. (1) The truth of 
 the Bible. (2) The phenomenon of Christ. (3) 
 The Christian History. (4) The religious experi- 
 ence, by putting himself into the power of what he 
 did hold." 
 
 Acts 3: 3 "Silver and gold have I none, but such 
 as I have give I thee." 
 
 "There is something better for us to have than 
 money. So there must be something better to 
 give. The greatest benefactors have not given 
 money — Christ. So of those who have helped you 
 most. Do not make anything I say an excuse for 
 not giving money. What we can give besides; 
 ideas, inspiration, comfort, and above all access to 
 God for what He alone can give — forgiveness and 
 grace. A man must really possess, himself, before 
 he can really give." 
 
 A multitude of germinal ideas and emxbryo sketches 
 of this kind are found in his note-books. He thus 
 never lacked subjects to preach upon. 
 
 Usually he had settled upon his text by Monday 
 
 387 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 noon for the next Sunday morning, and he gave 
 Mondays and Tuesdays to the collection of materials 
 for it, "bringing together in his note-book or on 
 scraps of paper the thoughts which were cognate 
 to his leading thought, or necessary for its illustra- 
 tion and expansion." Wednesday forenoon he de- 
 voted entirely to writing out the plan he would 
 follow. The hardest part of his work was then 
 believed to be done. Thursday forenoon and Fri- 
 day forenoon were devoted to writing the sermon. 
 "He wrote with rapidity and ease, rarely making a 
 correction, and in a large, legible handwriting." 
 
 In a similar way he prepared his plans for his 
 extempore sermons. He never trusted to the time 
 of preaching to give him what he wanted to say. 
 He previously fixed upon his topic and outlined his 
 course of thought. 
 
 In reading Dr. Allen's description of his plan- 
 making, you get the impression that there was 
 something mechanical about this work, and wonder 
 how he could make those dry bones live, or clothe 
 these skeletons with such strength and beauty. 
 But that was the work of his genius, quickened by 
 his religious faith and supported by his unflagging 
 labor in thinking, reading, and observation of life, 
 through which abundant materials were supplied. 
 
 "He first opened his soul to the influence of the 
 truth which was to constitute his message, devising 
 the most forcible method in order to make it appeal 
 to his own heart, and then under the influence of his 
 own conviction he wrote and preached his sermon. 
 This process kept him natural, sincere and unaffected, 
 
 388 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 preserving his personality in all and free from the 
 clangers of conventionalism and artificiality." Two 
 impressions were paramount in his preaching, as 
 especiall}^ characteristic of his eloquence: They 
 w^ere its inexhaustible affluence of thought and 
 feeling, and its genuine life. Professor A. B. Bruce, 
 of Glasgow, after hearing him three times with 
 growing admiration said: "Our great preachers (of 
 England and Scotland) take into the pulpit a bucket 
 full, or half full, of the word of God and then by the 
 force of personal mechanism they attempt to convey 
 it to the congregation. But this man is just a great 
 water-main attached to the everlasting reservoir of 
 God's truth and grace and love, and streams of 
 life pour through him to refresh every weary soul." 
 ''Life,'' says Professor Allen, "was a word running 
 through all his sermons. This ever recurring word 
 is expressive of the man." 
 
 Whenever he rose to address the great congrega- 
 tions that w^ere attracted to his preaching, his heart 
 kindled at the sight, and he was eager to communi- 
 cate the truth which he believed to be divinely 
 adapted to human need. It was a living message 
 that came from his lips. 
 
 At the outbreak of the Civil War in 1861, the 
 second year of his Philadelphia ministry, he threw 
 himself with patriotic fervor into the various ques- 
 tions of emancipation and reconstruction, and his 
 eloquence, like Beecher's, was raised to its highest 
 pitch by their influence. It was a time of mighty 
 inspirations, and he was touched and deeply moved 
 by them. *Tt awakened and evoked the greatness 
 
 389 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 of Phillips Brooks." His patriotic sermons and 
 platform addresses then mightily stirred men. He 
 was reckoned among the foremost of the advocates 
 of moral and political reform. 
 
 The Episcopal Church, prior to the war, and even 
 after its beginning, was very conservative and 
 silent upon the subject of slavery, and disposed to 
 frown upon any utterance condemnatory of it, as 
 "political preaching" unsuitable to her pulpits and 
 unbecoming her ministers; but through Brooks' 
 influence this reactionary attitude of his Church was 
 changed, and she was brought into full sympathy 
 with the government in its struggle with the rebel- 
 lious states trying to maintain that great iniquity. 
 
 When the assassin Booth, inspired by its spirit, 
 killed Lincoln, Brooks' voice was among the most 
 eloquent to deplore his death and eulogize his great 
 virtues and service. Among his published addresses 
 this eulogy holds a notable place. Its appreciation 
 of Lincoln is a measure of his own greatness as well 
 as of Lincoln's. Only a great soul can so worthily 
 estimate, and so eloquently speak the praises of 
 another great soul. 
 
 Another influence, second only in importance to 
 that of the Civil War, which contributed to his devel- 
 opment in Philadelphia was that of his friendships. 
 He was a sociable man, whose heart craved the so- 
 ciety of congenial friends, and whose mind expanded 
 and appeared at its best under the stimulus of their 
 presence and conversation. Included in the circle 
 were his brother ministers, W. W. Newton and 
 C. A. Richards, and some eminent laymen. 
 
 390 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 I have spoken of Dr. Weir Miteheirs estimate of 
 his greatness and eloquence. He became the pastor 
 of Dr. Mitchell in Holy Trinity and formed with 
 him and his invalid sister, Elizabeth, a most inti- 
 mate friendship. "Always once, and usually twice 
 a week, he dined with us," says Dr. Mitchell, "and 
 five evenings out of seven he was in the habit of 
 dropping in about ten o'clock for a talk before the 
 fire in my library. The friendship thus formed 
 matured with years. How dear it was to me I like 
 to think. . . . With my sister it was as close 
 a tie. She was by nature fond of books and her 
 reading was wide and various. In many directions 
 she became singularly learned, especially in all 
 biblical literature and the history of the Church. 
 Witty, quick of tongue, picturesque and often quaint 
 in statement, her talk was full of pleasant surprises. 
 He said to me once, that no one had so influenced 
 his opinions as this remarkable woman." 
 
 We speak of his friendship with her and her gifted 
 brother, to indicate that he was no recluse, either in 
 Philadelphia or in Boston, though he never married. 
 As a matter of fact he was one of the most genial 
 and companionable of men and he had in full develop- 
 ment all the social virtues. This is one secret of 
 his large-hearted, universal sympathy with men and 
 of the attraction he exercised over them. He was 
 entirely unspoiled by his great success and wide- 
 spread fame. He never put on airs, or exhibited 
 anything like personal vanity or arrogance: modest 
 and seemingly unconscious of his indisputable claims 
 to consideration, he was courteous and friendly to 
 
 391 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 all, manifesting the meekness and gentleness of 
 Christ, with whom he lived in spirit. 
 
 There never was a pastor who enjoyed more of the 
 love and confidence of his people. When he entered 
 upon his ministry in Boston, as pastor of Trinity 
 Church, October 31, 1869, he was not quite thirty- 
 four years old. In his service of twenty-two years 
 with this church, it steadily grew in strength and 
 influence, until it became, through the attractiveness 
 of Mr. Brooks' preaching, one of the most notable 
 churches in the land. His congregations were 
 variously composed of strangers from abroad, the 
 elite of the city, large numbers of young men and 
 women, and the poor; and it attests the largeness 
 and kindness of his heart, that the humblest class 
 received as much of his notice as the highest, and 
 as keenly enjoyed his message. His sermons in- 
 creased in spirituality and heart-power, and sounded 
 an ever-deepening note with the advancing years; 
 and their unfailing, un waning interest for the great 
 throng which hung upon his lips, year after year, 
 proved that he had unmistakably "the true genius 
 of the preacher, which consists in the power of so 
 uttering spiritual truth that it shall be effective in 
 influencing the hearts of men." 
 
 During his lifetime, he published five volumes of 
 sermons, which had a very large sale; thirty thous- 
 and, twenty-five thousand, twenty thousand; and 
 since his death the number of volumes has grown to 
 twelve. They are among the choicest in homiletic 
 literature. In those first volumes only five of his 
 Philadelphia sermons were published. As compared 
 
 392 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 with his later sermons, "they are," Professor Allen 
 thinks, "more poetic and imaginative, with a higher 
 literary finish. The traces of work are more manifest 
 in them." Example: The seventh sermon of the 
 First Series, "All Saints Day," "perhaps the most 
 beautiful of all," Professor Allen says. "In his 
 later preaching the contagion of a great conviction, 
 into which with growing clearness he had come, was 
 manifest." On the power of this the preacher most 
 relies for the propagation of the truth. 
 
 In Boston his fame became not only national but 
 international. He now had the honor of preaching 
 repeatedly in Westminster Abbey and before the 
 Queen of England; and his preaching across the 
 sea made as profound impression as in his own coun- 
 try. Sermons preached in Westminster Abbey: 
 "Symbol and Reality," sixteenth of First Series: 
 "The Candle of the Lord," first of Second Series. 
 With both of these Dean Stanley was greatly 
 pleased. Sermon before the Queen, "A Pillar in 
 God's Temple," fourth in Second Series. 
 
 Three notable things during his Boston ministry 
 are especially worth attention for their relation to 
 his expanding influence and ministerial powers: 
 
 His preaching in Huntington Hall. 
 
 His "Lectures on Preaching" before the Yale 
 Divinity School. 
 
 His ministry to the students of Harvard College. 
 
 He preached for four years in Huntington Hall 
 because of the destruction of his own church in the 
 great Boston fire, in November, 1872. Those four 
 years mark a distinct epoch in his ministry. The 
 
 393 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 location of the Hall, on Boylston Street, was more 
 convenient, its accommodations more ample, and 
 its novelty as a place of worship especially attractive 
 to many, though its secular character and associa- 
 tions, made it objectionable to many churchgoing 
 people. Immediately the great Hall became a 
 center of interest and attraction. It was soon filled, 
 thronged beyond its utmost capacity, morning and 
 afternoon. "No courses of lectures on literature, 
 art, or science with which the Hall was associated 
 ever witnessed a greater audience. This was the 
 case Sunday after Sunday, till people became accus- 
 tomed to it as to the gifts of God and hardly won- 
 dered at the munificence of the feast." There, 
 Principal Tulloch, of the University of Aberdeen, 
 Scotland, heard him, in the spring of '74, preach the 
 sermon entitled "The Opening of the Eyes," (pub- 
 lished in the Fifth Series) and sitting down to write 
 home to his wife, he said, "I never heard preaching 
 like it. So much thought and so much life combined ; 
 such a reach of mind and such a depth and insight 
 of soul. I was electrified. I could have got up and 
 shouted." 
 
 His lectures to the students of the Yale Divinity 
 School were given in 1877 upon the Lyman Beecher 
 lectureship, and form the most precious volume in 
 the whole series. We recommend to all divinity 
 students to procure the book, "Lectures on Preach- 
 ing," and to read it once a year for five years, until 
 their minds are fully possessed of and enriched by 
 its ideas upon the subject discussed. A more stim- 
 ulating and instructive volume upon the general 
 
 394 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 subject of the Christian ministry we never have met. 
 "It abounded in sentences which linger in the mind.'' 
 Brooks was then forty-two years old, and in those 
 lectures he gave to the theological students and the 
 younger clergy the ripe results of twenty years 
 experience and thought. "They constitute the 
 autobiography of Phillips Brooks, the confessions 
 of a great preacher." Besides their literary charm 
 and personal flavor, they have the additional merit 
 of presenting to the ministry the noblest and most 
 inspiring ideal of the preacher's work and character. 
 We reckon it the most precious of his writings. It 
 has had a mighty influence in moulding the char- 
 acters and shaping the work of the ministry in the 
 last generation. It was republished in English 
 and translated into the French and read by ministers 
 of every denomination. The good it has done can 
 not be estimated. 
 
 His ministry to the students of Harvard College 
 may be said to have begun almost with his coming 
 from Philadelphia to Boston. His voice was often 
 heard, in sermon and address, in Appleton Chapel 
 and in the Episcopal Theological School of Cam- 
 bridge. They thronged to hear him whenever he 
 was advertised to speak, and they went over to 
 Boston in large numbers to hear him Sunday after- 
 noon. When the college adopted the plan of having 
 a body of temporary Chaplains, who should severally 
 serve a number of Sabbaths, as preacher and pastor, 
 in place of one college preacher to minister to the 
 students, he was foremost among those selected, and 
 he was repeatedly chosen to serve the college in this 
 
 395 
 
^ NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 way. Of all the preachers whora the students heard, 
 he was the most enthusiastically admired and loved. 
 It was fitting, in view of this love and the great 
 influence that he had exerted over them, that when 
 he died his body should be borne to and from Trinity 
 Church, where the funeral services were held, on 
 the shoulders of Harvard students. He had been 
 their best counsellor and friend. He, more than 
 any other man, had delivered the college from its 
 former reproach of being a godless place, and made 
 its atmosphere religious and wholesome, so that the 
 last time he preached in Appleton Chapel at the 
 beginning of the college year he could truly say, 
 "If there is any man of whom this place makes a 
 sceptic or a profligate, what can we sadly say but 
 this: *He was not worthy of the place to which he 
 came, he was not up to Harvard College.' The man 
 with true soul cannot be ruined here. Coming 
 here humbly, bravely, he shall meet his Christ. 
 Here he shall come into the fuller presence of the 
 Christ whom he had known and loved in the dear 
 Christian home, and know and love Him more than 
 ever." 
 
 No higher or harder test of a preacher's character 
 and power can be found than to win the respect and 
 love of such a body of young men. He who does 
 it must be pure gold. They are keen to detect any 
 counterfeit, and merciless in their contempt for it. 
 
 He died in the early morning of Monday, January 
 23, 1893, in the fifty-seventh year of his age. He had 
 preached on Tuesday evening of the preceding week 
 his last sermon at the Visitation service given as 
 
 396 
 
PHILLIPS BROOKS 
 
 bishop of the diocese to the Church of the Good 
 Shepherd in Boston. The subject of his sermon 
 was, Christ Feeding the Multitude in the Desert, a 
 subject that lay close to his heart and which may be 
 said to have embodied the principal theme of his 
 ministry. The announcement of his death, unher- 
 alded by any previous notice of his illness, produced 
 a great shock of surprise and of wide-spread sorrow. 
 By his death Boston felt that it had lost its greatest 
 citizen. The popular sentiment demanded that a 
 bronze statue, to perpetuate his imposing form and 
 noble face, should be erected to his memory. The 
 eminent sculptor, St. Gaudens, executed it among 
 his last works, and it now stands in front of Trinity 
 Church. It gives a good idea of the superb manhood 
 of its subject. 
 
 Among the substantial tributes given to his mem- 
 ory is *'The Phillips Brooks House" at Harvard 
 College, a noble building erected for religious pur- 
 poses to perpetuate in the college the Christian 
 atmosphere which he did so much to create there. 
 The fund for it was started by the class of 1855, his 
 own class, and it was swollen by large contributions 
 made by English friends and admirers. On the 
 tablet in the central hall is this inscription: 
 
 "A preacher of righteousness and hope, majestic 
 in stature, impetuous in utterances, rejoicing in the 
 truth, unhampered by bonds of church or station, 
 he brought by his life and doctrine fresh faith to a 
 people, fresh meaning to ancient creeds; to this 
 University he gave constant love, large service, high 
 example." 
 
 397 
 
NINE GREAT PREACHERS 
 
 Thank God for such a character, for such a minis- 
 try, for such a life, in which the aspiration expressed 
 in his own words was fulfilled: 
 
 " — a life that men shall love to know 
 Has once been lived on this degenerate earth, 
 And sing it like some tale of long ago 
 In ballad-sweetness round their household hearth." 
 
 398 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 The Interest and Value of Ministerial Biography as illustrated in: 
 
 The History of Christian Preaching. By Prof. T. H. Pattison. Ameri- 
 can Baptist Publication Society. Philadelphia, 1903. 
 
 The Outlook. November 12, 1910. Reminiscences of Edward Everett 
 Hale. 
 
 Autobiography of Lyman Beecher. Edited by his son. 2 vols. Harper 
 & Brothers, 1871. 
 
 Life and Times of Saint John Chrysostom. By W. R. W. Stephens. 
 London. John Murray, 1883. 
 
 Historical Sketches. By John Henry Newman of The Oratory. 2 
 vols. London. Basil Montague Pickering, 1876. 
 
 John of Antioch in Orations and Addresses. By R. S. Storrs, D. D. 
 Boston. Pilgrim Press. 
 
 Ben Hur. By Gen. Lew Wallace. New York. Harper's, 1880. 
 
 Bernard of Clairveaux. The Times, the Man, and His Work. By 
 Richard S. Storrs. New York. Chas. Scribner's Sons, 1892. 
 
 Church History of Britain. By Thomas Fuller. Encyclopedia Brit- 
 tanica. Article, "Monarchism." 
 
 Life of John Bunyan. By Rev. John Brown. Bunyan's Grace Abound- 
 ing. Pilgrim's Progress. Bunyan's Sermons: Come and Wel- 
 come to Jesus Christ. Bunyan's The Barren Fig-Tree. The 
 Jerusalem Sinner Saved. Life of Dean A. P. Stanley. Inaugura- 
 tion of Bunyan's Statue at Bedford. Bunyan's Sermon: The Heav- 
 enly Footman. 
 
 Life and Times of Richard Baxter. 2 vols. By William Orme, Bishop 
 Gilbert Burnet's History of His own Times. Baxter's Saints' Rest, 
 and The Reformed Pastor. Reliquiae Baxterianae: or, Baxter's 
 History of his own Life and Times. 
 
 Address at the Inauguration of the Statue of Richard Baxter in Kidder- 
 minster. By Dean A. P. Stanley. Littell's Living Age, vol. 127. 
 
 Bossuet: Orator Etudes Critiques surles Sermons. Par Eugene Gandar. 
 Paris. Errin et Cie, 1888. 
 
 Occasional Papers. By Dean R. W. Church. Vol. 1 : No. 14. Bossuet's 
 Oraison Funebres. Paris. Gamier Freres. 
 
 399 
 
BIBLIOGRAPHY 
 
 Life and Letters of Frederick W. Robertson. By Stopford A. Brooke. 
 
 New York. Harper & Brothers, 1878. 
 The Sermons of F. W. Robertson. Complete in One volume. New York. 
 
 Harper's, 1878. 
 Representative Modern Preachers. By L. O. Brastow, D. D. New 
 
 York. The MacMillan Co., 1904. 
 The Life of Alexander McLaren. By Miss E. T. McLaren. Hodder & 
 
 Stoughton. London. 
 Sermons Preached in Manchester. 3 vols, MacMillan & Co. 
 The Secret of Power. MacMillan & Co. 
 Life of Henry Ward Beecher, the Shakespeare of the Pulpit. By John 
 
 Henry Barrows, D. D. 
 Henry Ward Beecher. By Lyman Abbott. 
 Autobiography and Correspondence of Lyman Beecher, D. D. Edited 
 
 by his son. 
 Six Sermons upon Intemperance. By L. Beecher. 
 Sermon against Duelling. By L. Beecher. 
 Life of Phillips Brooks. By Prof. Alexander V. G. Allen. 2 vols. 
 
 New York. E. P. Button & Co., 1900. 
 Bibliotheca Sacra, for January, 1902. Vol. 59. Article, Huxley and 
 
 Phillips Brooks. By Dr. W. N. Clarke. 
 Sermons, 1st, 2d, and 3d Series. 
 Yale Lectures on Preaching. By Phillips Brooks, E. P. Dutton, New 
 
 York, 1877. 
 Yale Lectures on Pmitan Preachers and Preaching, By Dr John 
 
 Brown, D. D. 
 
 400 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abbi d'Albert, 170. 
 
 Abbott, Lyman, 328, 344, 346, 348, 349, 351, 361. 
 
 Abelard, 102-110. 
 
 Allen, Prof. Alexander, V.G., 366, 370, 372, 374, 378, 384, 388, 389. 
 
 Antioch, 32, 53, 54. 
 
 Anthusa, 31. 
 
 Arcadius, Emperor, 50, 59. 
 
 Armitage, Rev. Thos., 325. 
 
 Arnold, Dr. Thomas, 191, 192, 237. 
 
 Aurelius, Marcus, 192. 
 
 Augustine, 171. 
 
 Bagshaw, Edward, a friend of Baxter, made an opponent 147, 148. 
 
 Barrow, Dr. Isaac, his remark concerning Baxter's writings, 133. 
 
 Barrows, Dr. John Henry, 326, 332, 333, 336, 340, 348, 358. 
 
 Basil, friend of Chrysostom, 37-40. 
 
 Baxter, Richard, birth, parentage, early life and education 113-115; 
 ordained for the ministry, begins work in Kidderminster, makes it a 
 famous parish, 115; shows extraordinary qualifications as a preacher, 
 cultivates the art of preaching, and displayed great eloquence with much 
 success, 115-119; at the outbreak of the Civil War takes refuge in Coven- 
 try, there labors among soldiers of the garrison, induced to become 
 a chaplain in Parliamentary army, followed it fearlessly into battle, 
 120; encounters sectaries, 121; opposed Cromwell with boldness 122- 
 123; returns to Kidderminster after absence of four years, stimulated to 
 greater earnestness by army experiences 124-125; joins to his preach- 
 ing family visitation and private conversation with great results, 125- 
 127; enlists laymen to work with him and starts weekly prayer meetings, 
 127-128; anticipates John Wesley in his ideas and methods by 100 years 
 and transforms the moral and religious tone of the town, 128-129; it 
 led him to write the "Reformed Pastor," notable in religious literature, 
 129-130; estimate of it by Philip Doddridge and Henry C. Duvant, 129; 
 Dr. Johnson's praise of Baxter's writings, 130; his Practical Writings 
 of great value — "Saints Rest" his first and best known book — still a 
 live book with "a style of robust eloquence, from time to time of rare 
 felicity of language which once heard can scarcely be forgotten" (Dean 
 Trench), 132-134. He had a prominent part after the Restoration in 
 
 26 401 
 
INDEX 
 
 vain attempts made over King's Declaration to reconcile religious differ- 
 ences 134-140; declined the bishopric of Hereford, 140; attends the Savoy 
 Conference, 140-142; deprived of his charge in Kidderminster; his offense; 
 therefore ever an object of bitter persecution by Bishop Morley and 
 others, 143-145; his marriage and devoted wife, 145. His pen busy in 
 spite of poor health, "Dying Thoughts," "Narrative of His Life," 145- 
 146. His unfortunate, offensive manner of attacking opponents; the 
 comparison his biographer, Orme, makes between his manner and that 
 of Dr. Owen, 146-147; controversey with Edward Bagshaw, its sad ending 
 and his regret over it, 147-148. Notable change wrought in his last years 
 from contentiousness to tolerance, his motto for toleration, 148-149. 
 His own record of changes in his own mind and opinion, "since the 
 unriper times of his youth," — Dean Stanley's estimate of its value, 150. 
 "Counsels of Moderation," 151-157; monument to his memory dedicated 
 July 28, 1875, — significance of it, 157-158. In Judge Jeffries Court — 
 imprisonment — closing years and death, 159-161. 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher, parentage, early home environment, 325-328; 
 boyhood in Boston — attends Latin School — desires to go to sea — diverted 
 from this by father's wisdom, 329; Mt. Pleasant School, good teachers 
 and revival turn his thoughts toward the ministry, 329, 330; enters 
 Amherst College, habits of study, college standing, 330; at Lane Semi- 
 nary, 331; profitable study of New Testament under Prof. C. E. Stowe, 
 but neglects Systematic Theology — never had much knowledge of it, 
 331-332; the Seminary then a storm center of theological controversy, 
 from which his father suffered to the disgust and perplexity of Henry 
 Ward, 332; has a remarkable revelation of God's truth, 333-334; effect 
 of this upon him, 335; call to Lawrenceburg, marriage and early house- 
 keeping, 335; ideas as to conditions of success, favorable impression soon 
 made by his sermons, large congregations, the theology in his preaching, 
 335-336; his widening influence, call to Indianapolis, crudeness of the 
 place of that time, 336; impression made by his preaching there; where 
 he got his ideas of the aim and right method of preaching; his indebted- 
 ness to the Book of Acts and writings of St. Paul; his preaching evangelis- 
 tic and productive of revivals, lectures to "Young Men," 337-338; 
 pictorial style of preaching, illustrations fresh, original and profuse, 338- 
 339; extended reputation, call to Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, N. Y., 
 ill health of his wife, Plymouth Church's growth under his ministry, 339; 
 his equipment and capital for the business of the ministry, 340-347; 
 his remarkable voice, not natural but result of careful culture and train- 
 ing, 342; his pulpit prayers, remark of a gifted lady, 346-347; his good 
 sense, 347; summary of his theology, 348; after 6 months, Plymouth 
 Church crowded, 348; poUceman's direction to strangers; "Follow the 
 
 402^ 
 
 l^' 
 
INDEX 
 
 crowd," 349; Dr. Storr's and Dr. Abbott's estimates of Beecher's oratorical 
 power, 349. The three divisions in his Plymouth Church pastorate, 350. 
 Irresistible in his plea for the slave, striking example, 351; two efforts 
 during Civil War, 352; the five speeches in England, 353; his encounters 
 with hostile audiences, 354; Dr. Mark Hopkins concerning the victory 
 achieved; the ovation given him on his return to the United States, 355; 
 the mystery of the Tilton scandal, 355; charges made against him similar 
 to those against John Wesley, 356; a good man of unimpeachable morality 
 357; the statue to his memory in the City Hall Square, Brooklyn, 357; 
 suggestions made by it to a candid beholder, 358. 
 
 Beecher, Lyman, father of Henry Ward Beecher; his fame as a preacher 
 326; playfulness in his family, 326; trains his children to independence of 
 mind, 327; his call to Hanover St. Church, Boston, 327; a defender of 
 Evangehcal Christianity, 327; the revival produced by his ministry there, 
 Wendell Phillips among the converts, 327 — call to Lane Seminary, — a 
 bed of thorns, 332. 
 
 "Ben Hut," by Gen. Lew Wallace, 32, 33. 
 
 Bernard of Clairvaux, birth, parentage and early life, 71-73; inherited 
 traits from father and mother, 72; attracted to a martial career, 73; 
 dra\sTi by memory of his mother to a religious life, story of his conversion, 
 73; what was meant in that age by a religious life, 74; turns by his elo- 
 quence his brothers, uncle and twenty others to it, 74. Their choice of 
 Citeaux rather than Clugni, 75; their accession to Citeaux necessitates 
 colonization, 76; Bernard and twelve others establish themselves at 
 Clairvaux, 76; Bernard's faith and inspiring example, 77; the institution 
 of Monasticism, 78; its original purpose and Scriptural warrant, 79; 
 the cravings it satisfies, 80; Cistercian monks like those of Clairvaux, 
 reformed Benedictines, 81; the "Canonical Hours," 82; comments of 
 Thomas Fuller upon them, 83; Dr. Storr's summary of the life at Clair- 
 vaux, 84 ; statement of the Catholic Encyclopedia, 85 ; incidental benefits 
 to mankind from monastaries, 85; many superior men drawTi to them, 
 86; the error of monasticism, 8; effect on Bernard, and his preservation 
 from its dangers, 87; his labors and immense influence, 87-88; personal 
 characteristics, 88-90; opinions of Luther and Calvin in regard to him, 
 91; Dr. Storrs on his religious belief, 91; Neander on his deep religious 
 experience, 91; this the source of other qualities? 92; examples of his 
 remarkable eloquence, 93-97; his saintly character, 97; canonized 
 twenty years after death, 98; a gospel preacher of doctrines of great spirit- 
 ual power, 98; his hymns, 99; his eloquence a divine gift, 100; his life 
 emphasizes value of three things, 100, 101 ; Bernard's faults of character 
 and conduct, 102; Abelard, his enthusiasm in study and brilliancy of 
 mind, 102-103; Dr. Storrs' statement of his aim as a theologian, 103; 
 
 40S 
 
INDEX 
 
 his contempt of critics and opponents, 104; the father of modern rational- 
 ism, 104; Bernard's opinion of him, 104-105; the two men represented 
 "colhding tendencies," 105; they join issue at Coimcil of Sens, 105; 
 Abelard's conduct there inexplicable — a puzzle of history, 107; Bernard's 
 insistence that the Council condemn him unjust, 707; alleged danger of 
 his teaching not a good reason, 107; Abelard jBnds a refuge at Clugni, 
 108; character of Peter the Venerable, its abbot, 108; Abelard's "History 
 of Calamities," 108; his reconciliation with Bernard and peaceful end; 
 his life not a failure, 109; Dr. Storrs' summary, 110. 
 
 Bible biographies, 6, 7. 
 
 Binney, Dr. Thomas, 310. 
 
 Biographies, Ministerial, spuitually beneficial, 6; entertaining, 10; 
 inspiring to the discouraged, 12; suggestive of good method, 14; give 
 ideals, 25. 
 
 Bossuet, most celebrated preacher in reign of Louis XIV, 165; M. 
 Gandar's careful study of Bossuet, 165; dedicated by pious parents to the 
 Catholic priesthood, 166; educated for it in Dijon, his native city, and at 
 College of Navarre, Paris, 166; youthful precocity exhibited in Salon of 
 Marquise de Rambouillet, 167: tribute to Nicolas Cornet, 166; unspoiled 
 by early admiration, 167; the "fatal gift" of fluency. Lord Russell quoted, 
 168; from things required of a good preacher, 169; Bossuet's six years in 
 Metz, 169; incident in French history about Cardinal de Bouillon, 170; 
 the things emphasized by Bossuet reveal his own method, 170; the two 
 most essential things, 170; primary purpose of study of the Scriptures, 
 171; value of Church Fathers; much accomplished by little regular 
 persevering study, 171; remark of Lamartine, 172; accent of authority 
 derived from Scripture, 172; his lighter diet, 172; a grand style natural to 
 him; things learned later, 173; two remarkable powers, 173; unfettered 
 freedom, 173; benefit of pre^^ous writing, 174; reputation in Metz, 174; 
 Dr. John Brown quoted, 174; Mr. Gandar; Dr. Horace Bushnell on the 
 "talent of growth," 175; two means of self-improvement used, 176; 
 benefits from a year in Paris, 177; influence of Pascal, 178; Dean Church 
 quoted, 179; these efforts commendable, 179; preaches before Anne of 
 Austria, Queen Mother, 180; invited to preach Lenten Sermons of the 
 Louvre, 180; in constant request from 1660 to 1670; his audiences, 180; 
 funeral orations, 181-182; remark of Guisot, 182; culmination of career, 
 183; always a learner, 183; not of blameless life or flawless character, 
 183; approved of Revocation of Edict of Nantes, 183; absurd laudation 
 of Louis XIV, 184; Guizot's opinion of Bossuet, and the estimate of Mr. 
 Gandar, 184: "Golden Age of the French Pulpit," fruitless, 184; its preach- 
 ing compared with that of Baxter and the Wesleys, 185; reasons for its 
 ineffectiveness. 
 
 404 
 
INDEX 
 
 Bos well, James, biographer of Samuel Johnson, 130. 
 
 Boyd, Rev. Archibald, 245. 
 
 Brainard, David, 242. 
 
 Brastow, Prof. L. O., quoted, 255, 272, 278, 361, 377, 379. 380. 
 
 Breda, 134 
 
 Brooks, Phillips, his parents and birthplace, 361-363; education at 
 Latin School and Harvard College, 364, 365; spiritual and religious de- 
 velopment, his mother's wisdom in it, 365-367; Dr. W. N. Clarke quoted, 
 365; not successful as a teacher, 367; theological school in Alexandria, 
 Va., 368-371; notebooks, 371-375; first attempts at preaching, 375-376; 
 called to Church of the Advent, Philadelphia, 376; ministry in Phila- 
 delphia, 376-377; personal qualities, 377-385; Dr. Weir Mitchell quoted, 
 385, 386, 391; Commemoration Day at Harvard, 385; President EUot's 
 remark, 385-386; Brooks' eloquence, 386; made of preparation for preach- 
 ing, 386-388; affluence of thought and feeling, — Professor A. B. Bruce 
 quoted, 389; influence of the outbreak of the Civil War, 389-390; Eulogy 
 of Lincoln, 390; his friends, 390-391; ministry in Boston, 392; pubUshed 
 sermons, 392-393: preaches in W^estminster Abbey and before the Queen, 
 393; preaching in Huntington Hall, testimony of Principal TuUoch, 394; 
 "Lectures on Preaching," 394; ministry to students of Harvard College, 
 395-396; his death, body borne to and from Trinity Church by students, 
 396; his last sermon on the main theme of his ministry, 397; his statue 
 by St. Gaudens, 397; the Phillip's Brooks House at Harvard, 397; the 
 Inscription in Central Hall, 397; his aspiration fulfilled, 398. 
 
 Brooks, William Gray, father of Phillips, 361-363. 
 
 Brown, Dr. John, quoted, 174, 212, 213, 224, 227, 296, 299, 300. 
 
 Bruce, Prof. A. B. Bruce, 389. 
 
 Bunny's Resolution, 113. 
 
 Bunyan, John, Dr. Thomas Arnold's estimate of him, 191; birth and 
 parentage, 191,193, a great genius trained in the school of Providence, 
 192; Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius, 192; "Grace Abounding," 192; 
 liA-ing in the Age of Cromwell and the Civil War he scarcely refers to its 
 events, 193; account of himself as boy and young man, 194, 195; opinions 
 of Macaulay and Froude, 195; a soldier, 195; his marriage, wife's dowry 
 and good influence, 196; three providential agencies that shaped him, 
 197; the poor Bedford women, 198; Mr. Gifford their pastor, 200, 206; 
 began to read the Bible as never before, 201, 215; examples of enlighten- 
 ment from the Bible, 202-203; the harm from introspection, 204; tempta- 
 tions of Satan, 204, 205; preserved from madness by soothing influence 
 of the Bible, 205; his dialogues with Satan Uke Luther's, 206; Bunyan's 
 beUefs and doctrine those of the Reformer, 206; relief given by Luther's 
 Commentary on Galatians, 206; Bunyan's use of Scriptures, 207; the 
 
 405 
 
INDEX 
 
 "law work" upon Bunyan's soul, 207; benefit resulting from it, 208; 
 ordained for the ministry at twenty seven, 208; Froude's estimate of him 
 as a preacher, 208; his fame reached to London, 209; Dr. John Owen's 
 remark to the king about his preaching, 209; qualities that distinguished 
 him as a preacher, 210; his remarkable style, 211, 223; on "Christ as 
 our Advocate," 212; Dr. John BroviTi quoted, 212, 213, 224; examples of 
 use of his imagination, 213; productiveness of his mind in religious sub- 
 jects, 214; the value of the Bible as a fertiUzer of the mind, 215; his ser- 
 mons as examples of homiletic skill, 216; use of the dialogue, 217; the use 
 of it by Prof. E. A. Park, 217; imprisonment for preaching, 217-218; 
 the two jails of Bedford, 218; John Howard's name and work associated 
 with them, 218; imprisonment of Bunyan and Quakers cost of liberty, 
 219; P'roude's lame defense of the government, 220; Bunyan's wife to 
 the judges, 220; his employment in prison, 220; his treatises, "Grace 
 Abounding," "Christian Behavior," "The Holy City" and "Pilgrim's 
 Progress" composed m prison, 218, 221, 222; his style, 223; Dean Stanley 
 upon the "Pilgrim's Progress," 225-226; his last words from the pulpit, 
 and death in London, 228; "Bunhill Fields" his burial place, 228: his 
 Memorial Window in Westminster Abbey, 229. 
 
 Burke, Edmund, 5. 
 
 Burnet, Bishop Gilbert, 134, 142. 
 
 Bushnell, Dr. Horace, 175. 
 
 Butler, Rev. Daniel, 12. 
 
 Calvin, John, the Reformer, 91 
 
 Charleton, Margaret, wife of Richard Baxter, 145, 
 
 Chapman, Dr. J. W. 9. 
 
 Chrysostom, John of Antioch, — Dr. R. S. Storrs' estimate of him as a 
 preacher, 21, 58; birth, parents, 31; Antioch in the Fourth Century, 
 A.D., 32; twofold environment, local and imperial, 32-35; "Ben Hur" 
 story of Lew Wallace, 32-33; the decaying Roman empire, 34; the peril 
 attending Imperial dignity, 35; instability of the government. 35; general 
 apprehension of ruin, 35; the remarkable men and women of this time, 
 36; precocity of Chrysostom, his teacher Libanius, 36; enters on the prac- 
 tice of law, — but soon abandons it to study for the ministry, 37; his 
 friendship for Basil, 37-38; influence of Meletius, bishop of Antioch, 38; 
 of Diodorus, the teacher of Bible, 39; the two friends shun episcopal dig- 
 nity, 39; the broken promise, 39; Chrysostom's justification of himself, 
 40; his mother's death permits the longed for retirement to monastery 
 and hermit's cell, 40; ordained deacon by Meletius, and served under 
 Flavian, 40; duties of this office, 40-41; Chrysostom's personal qualities, 
 41; Cardinal Newman's estimate, 41-42; ordained presbyter by Flavian 
 in his fortieth year, 42; his preparatory training of fifteen years needed 
 
 406 
 
INDEX 
 
 for his work, 42; at once rose to the zenith of fame as preacher in Antioch; 
 his eloquence, personal appearance, and oratorical ability, 42-46; has a 
 rational theology, 46-49; "Riot of the Statues," 49-50; Treasonable Acts 
 of the Mob — revulsion of terror, 50; the Emperor's vengeance feared, 
 51; advantage taken of the situation by Chrysostom, and calming effect 
 of his preaching, 51; Bishop Flavian's winter journey to Constantinople, 
 51; wonders -^Tought by Chrysostom in his absence, 52; extracts from his 
 reported sermons, 52-58; their enduring vitality and interest, 59; elo- 
 quence of Chrysostom attracts the notice of Eutropius, who desires to 
 make him Archbishop of Constantinople, an honor which he shuns, 
 59-60; strategem used to kidnap him and carry him off, 60; the dignity 
 not a bed of roses, 60; differing ideas of Eutropius and Chrysostom in 
 regard to its obligations, 60; at first everything seemed fair through 
 popularity of Chrysostum's preaching, 61; torch-light pilgrimage to 
 martyr's shrine, and natural admiration of preacher and empress, 61-62; 
 a change to hostility, 62; rebuke of the sins of the great, 62-63; his aus- 
 terity distasteful to the great, 63; downfall of Eutropius, 64; asylum of 
 St. Sophia given him; Empress Eudoxia offended and furious, 65; plots 
 for Chrysostum's destruction, 65; condemned and deposed by the 
 "S>Tiod of the Oak," 66; exiled and recalled, 66; exiled a second time, 66; 
 his death and last words, 67; his relics brought back to Constantinople 
 by Eudoxia's son, who kneeling above them implored forgiveness for 
 the sins of his parents, 68; but few in the history of the world more 
 deserving of honor, 68. 
 
 Church, Dean R. W. 173, 179. 
 
 Clarke, Dr. W. N. quoted, 365, 371, 380-382. 
 
 Coan, Rev. Titus, Missionary, 9. 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 187; verse quoted, 148. 
 
 Conde, Louis, the "Great Conde," 181. 
 
 .Comet, Nicolas, teacher of Bossuet, 166. 
 
 Cuyler, Dr. Theodore L., 342. 
 
 Cyprian, Church Father, 171. 
 
 Dante, 25, 251. 
 
 Daphne, Grove of, in Antioch, 33. 
 
 Davis, Rev. Benjamin, 285. 
 
 Denys, Helen, 245. 
 
 Diodorus, teacher of Chrysostom, 38. 
 
 Doddridge, Dr. Philip, 129. 
 
 Doyden, John, poet and prose writer, 5. 
 
 Eliot, Dr. C. W., former President of Harvard College, 385. 
 
 Epictetus, 192. 
 
 Eudoxia, Empress, 62, 65-66. 
 
 407 
 
INDEX 
 
 Eutropius, 59-60, 64-65. 
 
 Finney, Rev. Charles, G., 9. 
 
 Flavian, 40, 42, 51. 
 
 Fox, Charles J., distinguished British Orator, 20. 
 
 Fox's "Book of Martyrs," 139. 
 
 Gandar, M. Eug., 165, 175, 177, 184. 
 
 Gibbon, Edward, historian, 41. 
 
 Goodell, Dr. C. L., 23, 24. 
 
 Guisot, French historian, 182, 18*. 
 
 Guthrie, Dr. Thomas, Scotch preacher, 16-18. 
 
 Hadley, S. H., 9. 
 
 Hale, Dr. Edward Everett, 10. 
 
 Hale, Sir Matthew, English Judge, 145. 
 
 Hall, Dr. Newman, 21. 
 
 Hall, Robert, 59. 
 
 Hamilton, Alexander, 174. 
 
 Henrietta, duchess of Orleans, 181. 
 
 Hodge, Dr. Charles, 37. 
 
 Hooker, Richard, 115. 
 
 Hyde, Chancellor, Earl of Clarendon, 134, 136, 138. 
 
 Jeffries, the infamous English Judge, 159. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 130. 
 
 Jowett, Professor Benjamin, Oxford University, VII, 143. 
 
 Jowett, Dr. J. H., Clergyman, quoted 261, 262. 
 
 Judson, Dr. Adoniram, Missionary, 9. 
 
 Keble, John, author of the "Christian Year," 239. 
 
 Knox, Alexander, 295, 
 
 Knox, John, Scottish Reformer, 13, 139. 
 
 Lamartine, 172. 
 
 Lenten Sermons of Bossuet, in 1662, 181. 
 
 Libanius, teacher of Chrysostom, 36-37, Liddon, 59. 
 
 Louis XIV, King of France, 181, 186-187. 
 
 Lowell, James Russell, 28. 
 
 Luther, the Reformer, 13, 277. 
 
 Mather, Cotton, 161. 
 
 McChene, 24. 
 
 McLaren, Alexander: his name 283; birthplace and parents, 283-284; 
 a scholar in Glasgow High School and University, 284; enters Baptist 
 College at Stepney, Rev. Benjamin Davis, Principal, 285; religious de- 
 velopment, influence of Rev. David Ruseli, 285; "had to be" a minister, 
 286; called to preach at Portland Chapel, Southampton, at age of twenty, 
 286; benefits of his early ministry there of twelve years, 286; conception 
 
 408 
 
INDEX 
 
 of the Christian ministry, 287; study of the Scriptures evident from man- 
 ner of reading them in public; a careful exigete of the Bible; Dr. C. H. 
 Parkhurst's tribute to hi& example, 287; the formative years — the first 
 years, 287; always endeavors to do his best, rapid progress in preaching 
 power, appreciation of his work by Southampton people, magnified 
 preacher's oflSce above pastoral, 288; his method and principles of work: 
 resolves not to write his sermons, but to think and feel them; so saturating 
 his mind with his subject that facing his congregation — looking into 
 their eyes — his thoughts clothed themselves in suitable words, 289; did 
 not entirely discard his pen, — wrote two or three introductory sentences — 
 heads of divisions — jottings and closing sentences, 289; not a careless 
 workman, 290; studies gave him an opulent mind, 291; address to min- 
 isters at City Temple, London, 291, 319; principles that shaped his min- 
 istry, 291-297; test of personal experience, 292, 291; a sermon "a cordial 
 communication of \'italized truth," 295; the preacher "a herald of God," 
 295; just to the sense of his text, 296; labors upon his sermon plans, 296; 
 McLaren's call to Union Chapel, Manchester, 297; his ministry of 45 
 years there — a successful ministry from first to last. Sir Wm. R. Michol's 
 testimony, 297; "Sermons preached in Manchester," 298, 300; 302, 303; 
 his local influence and reputation in Manchester, 308-309; world-wide 
 influence upon the ministry of his time, 319; impression of his sermon and 
 preaching upon Dr. Parkhurst, 298; ministerial Jubliee, 291; power of 
 productive thinking, 293; "Word of Counsel" to Theological Students, 
 293; his marriage, tribute to his wife, 306-307; chosen President of Bap- 
 tist Union in 1875, 307; demands of special occasions, 309; at Free Trade 
 Hall, Manchester, in London, "Secret of Power," Dr. Thomas Binney, 
 310; his pulpit prayers, 311-312; maimer of preaching, 311-312; each 
 Sunday service "a woe," 313; old sermons, if used, must be revivified, 
 313; dependence on sleep to recuperate nerve power, and his ability to 
 command it, 314; a modest, approachable man, story of his photograph, 
 315; receives from Edinburgh University degree of D.D., 315; impaired 
 health, a year's vacation, given an assistant, J. G. Raws, 316; from 1881 
 to close of minority, one sermon a Sunday, 316; visits Australia and New 
 Zealand; interest produced by his preaching in antipodes, 317; Rev. J. 
 Edward Roberts made his assistant and colleague, 317; meeting of the 
 Baptist Union in Edinburgh in 1901, 319; address on "Evangelical 
 Mysticism," 320; resigns his pastorate, 320; but not to be idle, 321; his 
 last years, years of increasing holiness, 321; the direction of his thoughts 
 when free, 321; testimony of his physician, 322; death, words carved on 
 his tombstone, 322. 
 
 McLaren, David, father of Alexander, 283-284. 
 
 McLarin, Marian, wife of Alexander, 306-307; her death, 316. 
 
 409 
 
INDEX 
 
 McLaren, Mary Wingate, mother of Alexander, 284. 
 
 Meletius, bishop of Antioch, 38. 
 
 Meldenius, Rupertus, author of Baxter's rule of toleration, 149. 
 
 Merriam, Rev. George, 10, 11. 
 
 Milton, John, English author, 5, 25, 132. 
 
 Miltiades, 13. 
 
 Mitchell, Miss EUsabeth, 391. 
 
 Mitchell, Dr. Weir, 391. 
 
 Moody, D. L., 9, 21. 
 
 Narrative of his own Life (Reliquae Baxterianae), 149. 
 
 Nectarius, 59, 63. 
 
 "New Acts," 9. 
 
 Newton, Rev. W. W., 390. 
 
 Newman, J. H. Cardinal, 41, 238. 
 
 Nott, Dr. Eliphalet, 16. 
 
 Orme, William, author of Life of Richard Baxter, 146, 148. 
 
 Owen, Dr. John, 146. 
 
 Park, Dr. Edwards A., 217. 
 
 Parker, Dr. Joseph, 304, 310, 344. 
 
 Parkhurst, Dr. Charles H., 287, 298-299. 
 
 Pascal, 178. 
 
 Paton, Rev. John G., Missionary, 9. 
 
 Pattison, Prof. T. H., 293. 
 
 Payson, Dr. Edward, 23, 24. 
 
 Petrarch, 25. 
 
 Pierson, Rev. A. T., 9. 
 
 Pitt, William, 20. 
 
 Phillips, Mary Ann, mother of Phillips Brooks, 361-363, 365. 
 
 Plato, 25. 
 
 Pusey, Dr. E. B., 238. 
 
 Raws, Rev. J. G., 316. 
 
 Roberts, Rev. J. Edwards, 317. 
 
 Robertson, Frederick W. Most remarkable English preacher of his 
 century; reputation and influence posthumous; "Life and Letters" by 
 Rev. Stopford Brooke, 233; his remarkable sermons, 234; family and early 
 environment, 234; education and mental development, a student in 
 New Academy, Edinburgh, 235; wish to enter the army, 236; aversion to 
 the ministry; the mysterious ruling of providence, 236-237; disappoint- 
 ment; remains ever a soldier at heart, 237; student life at Oxford, 237; 
 contemporaries and teachers, 237; the "Tractarian Movement" and 
 Newman's Sermons, 238; appreciation of Keble's "Christian Year," 
 239; dissent from Tractarian doctrine, 239; his study of the Bible, 239; 
 
 410 
 
INDEX 
 
 harm of desultory reading; the mischief of "careless multifarious" 
 reading, 240; — his reading of Classic and standard English writers, 241; 
 his ministry in four places, 241; in Winchester, as curate — his rector, 
 Mr. Nicholson, 241; life and work at Winchester, Brainard's Life; his 
 sermons, 243; ordered to Switzerland for his health; health improved by 
 change; valuable acquaintances in Geneva; Cesar Malan and Helen 
 Denys, whom he marries, 245; given a curacy in Cheltenham; happy in his 
 rector, Rev. Archibald Boyd, 245; his inspiring preaching in Cheltenham, 
 brilliancy as a talker, 245-246; three things greatly affected him there: 
 friends, the social atmosphere, and books, 247; influence of the social 
 atmosphere baneful, other two good; Cheltenham, a fashionable watering 
 place, frequented by intolerant religious people, 248; Robertson estranged 
 from the Evangelical School by the harsh, untruthful utterances of the 
 Record and Guardian; hasty and unjust in his judgment of this School, 
 249; The break with them gradual, 250; his reading of Tennyson's 
 "In Memoriam," Carlyle, Guizot, Nicbuhr, Dante expanded and enriched 
 his mind, 251; other pi ofi table reading; neglect of exercise,252; Words- 
 worth quoted, 253; dettirmines to sever connection with Evangelical 
 School, 253; goes to Tyrol and Innsbruck, 254; Spiritual Crisis, 254; 
 Professor Brastow quoted, 255; given charge of St. Ebbe's Oxford, by 
 Bishop Wilberforce, 256; the attraction of his preaching because of new 
 light received, 256; the principles of his teaching henceforth, 257; Trinity 
 Chapel, Brighton, offered him; enters upon his labors there in his 32nd 
 year, 257; Brighton as a fashionable watering-place, 257-258; expository 
 lectures on 1st Samuel, 258; accused of political preaching, 259; charged 
 with Socialism, 260; the Record attacks him, 260; his reply, 261; Dr. J. H. 
 Jewett quoted, 261, 262; Robertson's intense sensitiveness; his preaching 
 in Trinity Chapel, 263-267; mode of preparing sermons, 264; their en- 
 during interest, 265; contemporary conditions: a time of transition in 
 theolog>% 268; of transition in politics, 269; of transition in style of 
 preaching, 271; shattered health, 272-273; chronic morbidness of mind, 
 273-274 ; laid upon himself unnecessary crushing burdens, ex : writing out 
 his sermons after delivery, 275; the world's profit from this sacrifice of 
 friendship and the fame thus won scarcely a compensation for the misery 
 it cost him, 275; symptoms of distress and breakdown, 276; premature 
 death in middle of 38th year, 276; Luther's remark, 277; Robertson's 
 repugnance to hearing commendation of his sermons, 277; a seer as well 
 as an eloquent preacher, 278; his wholesome modernism, 278; the shifting 
 of emphasis from theological dogmas to ethical precepts of the New 
 Testament and the example and spirit of Christ largely due to him, 279. 
 
 Richards, Rev. C. A., 390. 
 
 Russell, R«v. David, 285. 
 
 411 
 
INDEX 
 
 Russell alliam, 146. 
 
 Sevagn. l- 21 de, 178, 
 
 South, ' . )ert, 59. 
 
 Sozorr ' , 
 
 Stank A. P., 148, 158, 226, 393. 
 
 Steve - ' imes, 150. 
 
 Storrs, x^. . ;.. S., quoted, 31, 58, 59, 78, 84, 91, 103, 110, 349. 
 
 Synod of the Oak, 66. 
 
 Taylor, Jeremy, 59. 
 
 Taylor, Dr. Wm. M., 19. 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred, 251. 
 
 TertuUian, 171. 
 
 Theodosius, the Great, 36, 49-50. 
 
 Theophilus, Archbishop of Alexandria, o5. 
 
 Themistocles, 13. 
 
 Thoburn, Bishop, J. M., 9. 
 
 Tillotson, 5. 
 
 Tractarian Movement, 238-239. 
 
 Trumbull, Rev. H. C, 24. 
 
 Turenne, Marshal, 170. 
 
 Tyrol, 254. 
 
 Venus de Milo, 4. 
 
 Vincent, Dr. J. H. (bishop of M. E. Church), 22. 
 
 Vinton, Dr. A. H., 367, 369. 
 
 Wayland, Dr. Francis, 16. 
 
 Webster, Daniel, 21, 174. 
 
 VyTiite, Andrew, D., 343. 
 
 Whitefield, Rev. George, 17. 
 
 WTiittier, J. G., 26. 
 
 Williams, John, Missionary, 9. 
 
 Wordsworth, quoted, 253. y-' 
 
 412 
 
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