I.':|: iis! i' FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON. D. D. iEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY ■■'^ '^■^ fev. ^^ (^^c-tr^^-nc^^:^ ///-7t SEP 23 1931 MEMOIR OF THE liATB REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL, D. D, RECTOR OF THE CHURCH OF THE ADVENT, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS. BY HIS FATHER. NEW YORK: D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. 1853. '•* ir' V Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1853, By H. CROSWELL, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Connecticut INVOCATION. O Almighty God, who hast knit together thine ELECT IN one COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP, IN THE MYSTI- CAL BODY OF THY SoN, ChEIST OUR LoED, GRANT US GRACE SO TO FOLLOW THY BLESSED SAINTS IN ALL VIKTUOUS AND GODLY LIVING, THAT WE MAY COME TO THOSE UNSPEAKABLE JOYS WHICH THOU HAST PREPARED FOR THOSE WHO UN- PEIGNEDLY LOTE THEE, THROUGH JeSUS ChRIST OVR LoRD. Amen. rCOLLECT FOR ALL SaINTSO EEV. ASA EATON, D. D., WHO, FOR A LONG SERIES OF TEARS, WAS THE CONFIDENTIAL FRIEND AND FAITHFUL COUNSELLOR OF MY DEAE DEPARTED SON; WHO UPHELD AND SUSTAINED HIM IN THE ARDUOUS DUTIES OF HIS MINISTRY, AND WHO ADMINISTERED TO HIM, IN HIS DYING HOUR, THE LAST CONSOLATIONS OF HIS CHURCH, ®l)ig iilemoir IS MOST RESPECTFULLY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED BY ms AFFECTIONATE FRIEND AND BROTHER m THE GOSPEL H. CROSWELL. Reotort, Xew Haven, 1853. TABLE OF CONTENTS. Introduction : — ^^°^ Materials for the Memoir, . . 9 Parentage, Family, and Boyhood, 13 Education and Collegiate Life, 14 Choice of a Profession, • 21 Study of the Law, 25 Annals : — 1826. Theological Seminary, 31 1827. Editorial Employment, 35 1828. Ordination to the Office of Deacon, 53 1829. Christ Church, Boston, 68 Ordination and Institution, 71 1830. Family Reminiscences, 79 1831. Record of the Year commences, 88 1832. « 109 1833. " 119 1834. « 134 1835. » 155 1836. « 176 1837. " 192 1838. " 211 1839. " 225 Call to St. Peter's Churcn, Auburn, 243 1840. Resignation of Christ Church, 251 Parting Testimonials, . . . . • . • 253 Arrival at Auburn, ........ 257 1841. Record of the Year commences 269 1842. " 284 1843. » 306 1844. Resignation of St. Peter's Church, 332 Removal to Boston, 335 Church of the Advent, 337 1845. Conversation with Bishop Eastburn, 353 Bishop Eastburn and the Church of the Advent, . . • 357 1846. Honorary Degree of D. D. at Trinity College, ... 387 Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, 388 1847. Removal to Green Street, 400 Correspondence with the Clergy, 402 Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, .... 403 1848. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, 412 Letter to Rev. Dr. Baury, 416 1849. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, 429 1850. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, .... 446 5 6 CONTEXTS. PAGX 1851. Last Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, .... 463 His Death, 477 Sermon for All Saints, 479 The Funeral, 480 Character of the Deceased, 481 The Commemoration, 514 The Monument, 528 Poetry : — The Two Graves, 16 Fragment of Blank Verse, 26 The Chapel Bell, 27 New Haven, 29 Sonnets, by Asaph — Watchman, 35 " " Lent — Confirmation, 36 " " To the Hepatica Triloba, found in March, . 37 " " Infant Baptism, 37 " " Washington (now Trinity) College, . . 38 " " To a Winged Figure, by Raphael, . . .38 " " Christ bearing the Cross, .... 38 " " Saint Bartholomew, . . ■. . .39 " " The Knell, ,39 " " Saint Matthew — St. Luke, . . . .40 « « The Knot, 40 " " Christmas, 41 " " Saint John the Evangelist, .... 41 « " Winter, 42 " " Valedictory, 42 " To Asaph, by H., 43 " Palinode, 43 " Africa, 44 " Ordination of Jacob Oson, 44 " Death of Jacob Oson, 45 " Deatli of Rev. Abiel Carter, 45 Hymn — Sunday School Hymn, 46 To * * * *, 47 Home — Stanzas, 48 " Drink, and away," 49 The Ordinal, 53 Spring, Sonnet, 55 Hymn, First Sunday after Easter, 55 The Missionary — Reveille, 56 Communion of the Sick, Sonnet, 57 Saint James the Apostle, Sonnet, ,57 Hymn, Eighth Sunday after Trinity, 57 South Sea Missionaries, 58 Death of Dr. Feltus, Sonnet, 59 Burial of Ashmun, Sonnet, 60 Hymn — Michaelmas, Sonnet, 61 The Seven Churches, Sonnet — Africa, 62 Crete — Sonnet, 63 Greece — Saint Thomas, 64 Christmas — Saint Stephen, 65 Saint Paul — The Dying Year, QQ Hymn for Advent, .74 Hymn, Fourth Sunday after Easter, 75 Brook Kedron, 75 Hymn, on reopening Christ Church, 82 Verses from a Poem Book, 86 CONTENTS. 7 i'AGE Hymn for Christmas Eve, 86 Old North Cock, 87 Hymn, Howard Benevolent Society, 88 On the Death of an aged Servant of God, 90 Clouds, 91 NightTIiought — Charity Hymn, 92 Saint Andrew's Day, 93 Hymn for St. Matthew's Day, 94 Last Sunday in Advent — The Epiphany, 95 Second Sunday atler the Epiphany, 96 Quinquag-esima Sunday, ' . 96 Second Sunday in Lent, 97 To a Child on her Birthday, 100 The Synagogue, 110 For a Child's Album, Ill In Memory of D. W., 112 To my Namesake William Croswell Doane, on his Baptism, . 116 Ad Amicum, Sonnet on Bishop Doane's Consecration, . . .118 To J. P. Couthouy, of the Brig Heber, 125 Midnight Thought, 125 White, 126 Valentine to , . . . ; 127 For Mary's Bible — To my Sister, 128 ToG. W. D., ^129 Sonnet to a Sunday School Teacher, 130 Sonnet, Exculpatory, 130 De Profundis — Traveller's Hymn, 131 From the Antique, by the Name of Crosse-Welle, .... 132 To a Friend, (Watchcase and Thermometer.) .... 136 TomyGodson, W. C. D.— W. C. D. toW. C, . . • .137 On the Death of Dr. Montgomery, 139 Nahant, 144 Fox's Book of Martyrs, Sonnet, 145 Africa, 145 Baptismal Hymn, 146 To , a Child, 147 " Perennis et Fragrans," by G. W. D., 148 To my Mother, 150 Hymns of the Ancient Time : — Horology, or Dial of Prayer — Midnight Hymn, . . . 151 Cock Crowing — Noonday, ........ 152 Another for Noonday, . . . . . . . 153 Ninth Hour — Eventide, 154 Saint Paul's Day, 158 Valentine — Valentine for " W.," 161 To the Rev. Dr. Coit, 162 To a Lady, with a Sprig of Myrtle, 174 "The Meeting of the Tribes," 174 Picture of Palestine, 175 Christ Church, 179 Valentine, 180 To my Father, 192 Sophia, 194 In an Album, Sonnet, 195 " The Feast of Tabernacles," 198 The Missionary's Farewell, 202 Wheelock Cottage, Medfield, 206 Dedication of Hospital at Worcester, 208 CONTENTS. PAOE Albany, 209 Valentine, ... 212 Nature and Revelation, 215 The Liturgy — To Rev. W. Croswell, by J. P. C, . . . . 216 On the Leaf of an old Hebrew Bible, 222 Sonnet, written on the Andes, by J. P. C, 228 " This also shall pass away," 232 Elegiac, B. D. W., 234 Prison Hymn, by Mary, Queen of Scots, 235 Versification of Psalms — First and One Hundred and Thirty-third, 237 One Hundred and Thirty-fourth and One Hundred and Thirty- seventh, 238 One Hundred and Fiftieth, 239 Saint John Baptist's Day, 249 Bishop Hobart, his Death, 258 On his approaching Nuptials, 261 In Memory of Rev. Mr. Lucas, 262 Lake Owasco, 263 Lines written in the Chamber where Bishop Hobart died, . . 274 New Year, from the Desk of Poor Richard, Jr., . , . . 284 New Year's Musings, 287 The Robin in Churchyard, 293 Christ Church, Boston, 298 Christmas Evening Pastoral, 304 " Houses of Worship," 308 Bishop Griswold's Memorial, 322 Mary's Second Birthday, 326 Elegiac — Rev. E. G. Prescott, 334 Hymn, Massachusetts Horticultural Society, .... 344 Hymn for Infant School, Christ Church, Boston, .... 382 Sunday School Hymn,* 383 Ad Amicum, to H. E. P., 384 Convocation Poem, 419 An Apology, 439 * Inserted twice, through inadvertence ; see p. 146 MEMOIR INTRODUCTION. The reader is presented in this work with an unwonted specta- cle : a bereaved and sorrowing parent appears before the public as the biographer of a dear departed son ! At tlie age of threescore and ten, this parent, admonished by a severe visitation of sickness, devoted as much time as his pressing duties would permit to the arrangement and preparation of his own manuscripts, for the final inspection and revision of this very son. But, alas ! how have his fond anticipations been defeated ! That son, on whom he thus relied, by a mysterious providence, has been suddenly stricken down in the midst of his days and his usefulness, and numbered with the dead. And now, with trembling hand and aching heart, the parent, relying on the mercy and help of God, undertakes to gather up the materials, and prepare a record of his life. This is acknowledged to be an office of great delicacy, on ac- count of the close relationship of the parties ; but the difficulty in the case is very much diminished by the fact, that the biographer, in prosecuting his work, is not thrown upon his own resources. It is only with regard to the earlier incidents of the life, and the first developments of the mind and genius of his son, that the father is compelled to rely on the recollections fondly cherished in the family. Beyond these incipient stages of boyhood and youth, there are abundant materials among the manuscripts of the deceased, which only require to be faithfully arranged and presented, to give a fair transcript of his history. With regard to the use of these materials, however, it must be understood that no greater latitude can be allowed than may be found necessary for the full illustration of his life and character. I. His correspondence, which is very voluminous, extends back to the earliest period of his absence from home ; but it consists, in a great measure, of free and famiUar letters, designed only for the 2 (9) 10 MEMOIR OF WILLIAMS! CR0S"\^:ELL. eye of his family and friends ; and no more of this portion of it can be drawn from the sacred privacy of domestic confidence, than may be made instrumental in bringing out the principal incidents of his life, and in exhibiting the prominent features of his charac- ter. There are other portions of his correspondence, however, which cannot, in justice to himself and others, be withheld from the public eye. It must be remembered that it did not please his heavenly Father to give him a cloudless life. With all his meek- ness and gentleness of spirit, and the inoffensive tenor of his walk and conversation, he had the misfortune to encounter much that was unkind and unjust, and especially from the hands of one, who, affecting to exercise only a rightful authority over him, forgot the paternal nature of his office, and disregarded the common courte- sies of pastoral oversight. In reference to the full disclosure of this portion of his history, there must be no reserve. The whole story must be told ; and, happily for the satisfaction iand consolation of his friends, he has left among his papers abundant, authentic and official evidence, to vindicate his character from aspersion, and to place his memory above the reach of ungenerous suspicion. II. From the earliest period of his professional life, he kept a regular diary. This is little more than a brief and simple record of his daily transactions, evidently designed chiefly for reference, and to aid liis own memory ; but it exhibits an immense amount of pastoral duty. It bears the marks of a strictly private journal, and is sometimes written in Latin and Greek ; yet it is interspersed with occasional reflections and explanations, which may serve to shed some light on the various passages of his life. III. Of poetry, published and unpublished, he has left a large amount. Of the quality of his poetry, the biographer will not trust himself to express an opinion. He prefers to rely on the judgment of one who for years had addressed him, and written and spoken of him as his " next friend and more than brother," the Right Rev. Dr. DoANE, Bishop of New Jersey, who, by invitation of the vestry, preached a commemorative discourse, in the Church of the Advent, Boston, soon after his decease. This is his recorded testimony : " His poetical contributions to the Episcopal Watchman were numerous, in addition to his invaluable services as editor ; and they won for him a high and honorable place among the very few to whom the name of Poet can be given. Every thing that he ever wrote in verse was strictly occasional. It was so much of his heart hfe set to music. He lived it, every hue. And it was all inspired at the hearth side or at the altar foot. It was domestic often, always sacred. He fulfilled, in every verse, that beautiful sugges- tion of the skylark to the mind of Wordsworth, — MATERIALS FOR THE MEMOIR. H ' Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam, True to the kindred points of heaven and home.' In that incomparable modesty which set off, in its mild opal light, his virtues and his graces, he thought very poorly of these admira- ble productions, and has half suggested the desire that they may remain still fugitive. But this must not be suffered. They are part and parcel of his nature and of his office. As he lived them, so he preaches in them, and will while the gospel shall be preached." It is, perhaps, to be regretted, that the wish here expressed by this warm-hearted friend cannot be fully accomplished. The restriction of which he speaks as " half suggested," with regard to the collec- tion and publication of this poetry, is more strict than he seems to imagine. Among the private papers of the deceased, this passage is found : " My poetry is strictly juvenile, and must never be col- lected. I wish it to be fugitive and transitory, as the occasions which produced it." But notwithstanding this restriction, his biog- rapher will feel at liberty to introduce and interweave with the nar- rative large portions of these poetical productions, a id especially such as are best calculated to illustrate, and give a liigher interest to the peculiar circumstances which called them forth. If any apology is deemed necessary for adopting this course, it may, per- haps, be found in one of his private letters, in which, speaking of some manuscript collections of his earlier productions, which had been placed in liis father's hands, he says : " I am glad you have the collections. There are several little pieces which have never been entered among them, and others which you may find floating about, now and then, in the lower regions of literature. You must take as you can catch them, and fasten them down like plants in a hortum siccum, or butterflies in a cabinet." And, in a subsequent letter to his father, he expresses a desire that his fugitive pieces may be preserved, not for publication as a volume of poetry, — for to this he always felt an aversion, — but for future reference, and for the gratification of his friends. Many of his productions, originally published under his own eye, had been extensively copied into religious and secular periodicals, sometimes with his own signature or initials attached, and frequently without any recognition of their origin. Some few of them had also been inscribed, by his own hand, in the albums of his friends, and from thence transcribed into commonplace books and collections of poetry. And in many of these cases, they were sadly marred, either by errors of the press or by slips of the pen. These circumstances alone furnish an additional reason for desiring to collect, revise, and preserve these scattered fragments. It may be proper to remark, that the reader will find among them many specimens not very accurately defined by the preceding criticism of his friend Doane. His poetry was, 12 MEMOm OF WILLLiM CROSWELL. indeed, almost without an exception, " occasional," and much of it was strictly devotional and " sacred." But among the productions of his pen, many partake largely of other qualities ; and a vein of playfulness and wit will be found running through several of the pieces which are here collected. IV. Of his manuscript sermons, the stock is large ; and having been carefully adapted to memorable days and occasions, and to the seasons of the ecclesiastical year, and methodically arranged, the publication of them, in whole or in part, might doubtless prove highly gratifying to his surviving friends, who would prize them as an invaluable legacy. But of this gratification they are deprived by his own written prohibition. The same modesty which forbade the publication of any of these sermons in his lifetime, led him to make the restriction permanent. On this point, nothing is left to future contingency, or to the discretion of his friends. Some allu- sions to, or extracts from a few of the latest of his sermons, may be necessary by way of explanation or illustration. But beyond this, no libei ty can be taken ; and every thing else must remain under the seal of his prohibition. V. There is yet another source from which the biographer will feel at liberty to draw the principal materials for the completion of his work. For testimonials of character, he is not under the neces- sity of relying on his own judgment. These are abundantly fur- nished under various forms, and by different hands, in sermons, in obituary notices, in the transactions of public and corporate bodies, and in the familiar correspondence of friends and brethren. They are all that can be desired ; and these will be employed with entire freedom. It would be little better than false delicacy, to suppress such testimonials on account of their eulogistic or lauda- tory quality ; for, after making every allowance for the partiality of friendship, and for the spontaneous overflowing of hearts recently smitten by a sudden and appalling calamity, the sentiments expressed by the several witnesses will be found to correspond so exactly with the whole tenor of the life of the deceased, that the adoption of them by the biographer cannot justly be imputed to the overween- ing influence of paternal afifection. From these materials the ensuing memoir is to be constructed. The work is begun in the fear of God, and with the humble and confiding hope that He will be graciously pleased to guide the hand, and strengthen the heart of his unworthy servant, by whom it is voluntarily undertaken, and enable him so to discharge this delicate and difiicult office as to do justice to the memory of his departed son, as well as to satisfy the claims and expectations of his numer- ous surviving friends. 1804.1 PARENTAGE AND BOYHOOD. 13 PARENTAGE AND FAMILY. That some passages and allusions, in the ensuing memoir, may- be rendered intelligible without further explanation, a brief notice of the parentage and family of the late William Croswell may be necessary. His parents were both natives of Connecticut ; his father, Harry Croswell, having been born in West Hartford, and his mother, Susan Sherman, in New Haven, They had seven children, the third of whom, William, was born in Hudson, N. Y., November 7, 1804. Neither of his parents was born or trained in the Church, having descended from Congregational ancestors ; and, owing to the restrictions of that religious system, they were not baptized in their infancy. On their removal to Albany, however, in 1809, the father, who had spent several years as the editor and publisher of a literary and political journal, carefully examined the subject of the Christian ministry ; and this examination led to his full conformity to the Episcopal Church, and he was baptized in St. Peter's Church, Albany, on Sunday, July 19, 1812. The mother and children were also baptized, on the 13th of June, 1813. The father soon became a candidate for holy orders, and was ordained to the office of deacon, by Bishop Hobart, in St. John's Church, New York, May 8, 1814. After spending a few months in charge of Christ Church, Hudson, he was called to the rectorship of Trin- ity Church, New Haven, and entered upon his duties in that parish January 1, 1815. He was subsequently admitted to the priesthood by Bishop Griswold, acting as provisional Bishop of Connecticut. It was here that William passed HIS BOYHOOD. On this period of his life it is not intended to dwell at large ; and it is the less necessary, because his early traits of character were fully developed in his Jater and more mature years. In all these respects, it will be found that " the boy was father of the man." The same guileless simplicity — the same filial and dutiful affection — the same conscientious regard for the truth — the same benevolent disposition and amiable temper — the same admiration of the beautiful, in nature and art — the same fertile imagination and vivid train of thought — the same habit of indulging in pleasing anticipations — and, above all, the same devout spirit — which were seen budding in his childhood, burst into full bloom in his manhood, and constituted the abiding traits of his character in all his subse- quent life. An incident is related in the commemorative sermon, alluded to in the Introduction, which is sufficient of itself to illus- trate the peculiar transparency of his inmost thoughts : When a 14 MEMOm OF \\^LLIAM CROSAVELL. [1816. child at school, he was called up by his master, and sharply re- proved for talking. " No, sir," his answer was ; " I was not talk- ing, but I was just going to." Books afforded him his favorite amusement ; but in the selection of these books, he generally gave a preference to lyric and pastoral poetJ-y, and to the rudiments of natural history. The Bible, how- ever, was his choicest study ; and having a retentive memory, the historical parts of the Old Testament, and the great leading princi- ples of the New, became familiar to him in his earliest years. Whatever he read was never forgotten ; and his aptness to learn proved a great advantage to him in HIS EDUCATION. He was never a hard student, but always a good scholar. He acquired knowledge, and mastered his lessons, with so much facility, that it seemed to cost him but little trouble ; and it was often a matter of surprise to his fellow-students, that he was so ready in his recitations, without any appearance of laborious application. When the point was settled, that his elder brother Sherman and himself should prepare for entering Yale College, it was thought expedient to remove them, for a time, from the influence and con- tagion of the city ; and hence a private family school was chosen, kept by the Rev. Elijah G. Plumb, in a little hamlet situated in the centre of the town of East Haven, about four miles from the city. To this lonely place Sherman went a few months in advance of his brother ; and the letters which he sent home he dated, at the suggestion of his preceptor, " Harmony Hall." This name was alone sufficient to awaken all William's poetic fancies. It struck his ear with a most melodious sound. Harmony Hall ! his imagi- nation painted to him a rural paradise, surrounded with bowers and arbors, with trees, and shrubbery, and flowers ! He was impatient to join his brother in this lovely place. At length, a certain Mon- day was fixed upon as the time when his father would accompany him thither. But his ardent spirit would brook no delay. He obtained permission to go on Saturday, and accordingly set off" on foot and alone, cheerfully taking in his hand his httle bundle of clothing. It was a solitary road, and he probably met few or none of whom to inquire the way. But coming to an elevated point, he descried before him some of the marks of a Connecticut village — the meeting house, the tavern, and the store. He passed by the church, a plain and humble structure of very small dimensions, and having nothing but its round-topped windows to denote its ecclesi- astical character. He inquired of a young lad for the residence of Mr. Plumb, and the house was readily pointed out to him. But, in the bitterness of his disappointment, he doubtless suspected that 1818.1 mS EDUCATION. 15 the boy had been playing off a cruel joke. It was an ancient, dilapidated farm house, with a huge stack of stone chimneys in the centre, while either end drooped far below the level. Could this be Harmony Hall 1 How did his fond anticipations vanish, as he approached the door ! But he had little time for reflection before he was surrounded by the resident boys, who, one and all, with a sly, significant leer, welcomed him to " Harmony Hall." In this retired place, the two brothers, with some eight or ten other lads of their age, pursued the study of Latin and Greek. But their preceptor, however faithful he may have been in this branch of his instruction, did not confine himself entirely to tlie classics. He was an exemplary Christian, an intelligent and zealous Churchman, and a rigid disciplinarian ; and he took every favorable opportunity for teaching his pupils the prominent lessons of the church to which they belonged. On returning home, the two brothers were placed in a select school, kept by Mr. Joel Jones, a graduate of Yale College, who, while pursuing his professional studies, employed himself in teach- ing. He was a young gentleman of superior scholarsliip and pleasing manners, and enjoyed the confidence and esteem of his pupils.* Under his tuition, Sherman and William were well pre- pared for their college course ; and at the commencement of 1818, they were both admitted to the freshman class of Yale College — Sherman being a few months under sixteen, and William as much short of fourteen. It was by a singular oversight that William was admitted at this time, as the rules of the college forbade the admission of any student under the age of fourteen. But his older brother, being smaller in stature, and being first questioned, having satisfied his examiners that he was of competent age, no ques- tion was asked with regard to the younger, and he was admitted upon the very natural supposition that he was the elder of the * Of this gentleman, it is gratifying to find the following pleasant reminis- cence ill one of his pupil's letters, written after a lapse of some twenty years. In 1836, WiLLL\M, having passed through his collegiate education and his the- ological course, and having held the rectorsliip of Chiist Chvirch, Boston, for several years, thus %vrites to his father : " I see, by the English papers, that the old veteran divine and scholar, Valpy, is dead. I feel as if I had lost a friend. I have been reviewing, of late, his Greek Grammar. It gave me a sort of home- sick feeling — it recalled so vi\ddly those golden days of my childhood, when I was first thoroughly initiated into its mysteries, by a most faithful and excellent instructor, Joel Jones, Esq. My pleasantest recollections are associated with those early days. IVIr. Jones has smce risen to great professional distinction in Pennsylvania ; and when Sherman and I meet again, I intend to talk with him about sending some token that he stUl lives in our grateful remembrance." The professional distinction to which Mr. Jones had then risen led to liis fm-- ther elevation. He was advanced to the bench in one of the higher courts, and, for a time, held the office of mayor of the city of Philadelphia. Subse- quently, he was elected to the presidency of (jhard College, an office for which his superior hterary attainments well qualified him. 16 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1820, two. On the same mistaken ground, the name of William has always preceded that of Sherman on the printed catalogues of the college. While in college, they had the privilege, in common with all residents in the city, of boarding and lodging at home. This afforded them many comforts and advantages, though it often sub- jected them to serious inconvenience, from the length of the walk and the frequent inclemency of the weather. The morning prayer bell, during the shortest days of winter, preceded the dawn of day ; but they were seldom or never tardy, either at prayers or recitation, and, in every respect, passed through their college life without reproach or censure. They sought but few acquaintances; but they formed some very intimate friendships, and these were warmly cherished, in every instance, until dissolved by death. In the latter part of their college life, the family suffered a very severe double affliction. George, an elder brother, aged nineteen, who had been residing for several years with his uncle. Dr. Thomas O'Hara Croswell, at Catskill, was brought home in declining health, and, after a few months, died of pulmonary consumption ; and his little sister, Jane, then about six years of age, in three months followed him to the grave. These heavy bereavements called forth, at a subsequent period, one of the most touching productions of Wil- liam's pen, which was first printed in the Episcopal Watchman, in 1827, under the title of THE TWO GRAVES. There is a struggle and a strife Within me, as I bid adieu To all my household friends in life, And may not say the same to you, But leave once more, dear kindred dead ! Your lowly tombs unvisited. To leave unmarked the heaving waves Of that still burial ground, Where four long years, above your graves, The thickened turf has bound ; And think that that rank-bladed sod May ne'er again by me be trod. But oftener shall my bosom yearn Toward your calm bed of ease. And thither tliought and feeling turn In their sad reveries ; And never shall that cherished spot Be in my stricken heart forgot. 1820.] COLLEGIATE LIFE. 17 The chain of grief, tirne-drawn to length, That binds me there to both, Alas ! it strengthens with my strength, It groweth with my growth ; And, even now, my spirit sinks To drag its still increasing links. When thou wast called away, — the first In burial as in birth, — I thought thy parents' souls would burst At thy return to earth. And prayed to bear the grief alone, Nor add their anguish to my own. It was too much to feel my heart So unprepared, my brother ! With thee in this vain world to part, Or meet thee in another. O, may my peace, like thine, be made Ere my cold corse is near thee laid, While yet we struggled to sustain The drear, soul-sinking weight. The fatal shaft was bent again At us disconsolate, And thou wast summoned next — the best, The youngest, and the loveliest. The seeds of visible decay Were in thee from that hour, And thenceforth thou didst pine away. And wither like a flower. O God ! it was a grievous thing To see thy bitter suffering. Then came the poignancy of woe, The acme of distress, The pang which parents only know When they are daughterless ; But still they struggled on, and still Submitted to their Maker's will. . Now all that of thy form survives Is at thy brother's side. For ye were lovely in your lives, And death did not divide ; 3 18 MEMOIR OF ^\^LLIAM CROSWELL. 1820.] And all that memory brings of thee Is to my bosom agony. The relics of thy golden hair, Thy books and dresses gay, Which it was joy to see thee wear Upon a holiday — These things, alas ! now thou art gone, It wrings my heart to look upon. Sometimes thy silvery voice I hear Where children are at play, But dare not lift my eye for fear The spell will melt away ; Too well I know the grave denies Thy image to my waking eyes. Still it has been to me a dear. Though desperate, delight, To meet thee in my dreams, and hear Thee bless my sleeping sight ; And waking from those visions vain, I've wept to dream them o'er again. And yet, so pure, why should I weep Thy early death, sweet child ? How might we hope on earth to keep Thy spirit undefiled ? What but thy prompt departure hence Could save thy angel innocence ? " Yes, when I see, beloved child ! The evil ways of men. My soul is more than reconciled To thy departure then ; " * And blessings flow to Him that died That sinners might be sanctified. * These four lines are distinguished by quotation marks, because they are cited, as will be perceived by the subjoined extract, not verbatim but in sub- stance, and probably from memory, fi-om a beautiful little poem, by Caroline Bowles, addressed " To a Dying Infant : " — " I look around, and see The evil ways of men ; And, O beloved child ! I'm more than reconciled To thy departiu'e then." 1821.] COLLEGIATE LIFE. Now thou art in the Spirit land, Witli the lioly and the blest, Where the wicked cease to trouble, and The weary are at rest ; And I am happy since I know That thou wilt be forever so. In carrying out the plan, already suggested, of permitting the subject of this Memoir to tell his own story, and, as far as practi- cable, in his own language, this may be deemed a suitable time for the introduction of some of the earlier specimens of his letter writing. During a short college vacation in May, 1821, he made, with his brother Sherman, a visit to an uncle and other family relatives in West Hartford. Their return home is thus noted in their father's diary, under date of May 14, 1821 : " Sherman and William re- turned just at evening from West Hartford, having, during their absence, visited my sister at New Hartford, and formed an acquaint- ance with their cousins in both places. They w^alked home from Newington, to which place their cousin had brought them. The distance is over twenty-seven miles ; and being unaccustomed to so long a walk, and having pushed on at the regular rate of three miles an hour, they were excessively fotigued. During the past week, I had received a joint letter from them, written at West Hartford on the Sunday evening previous. It gave me a flattering opinion of their talents for epistolary composition ; and being the first which they had ever had an opportunity to write, I shall preserve it on my files." This letter gives an account of their journey to Hartford by stage, and their walk, for the want of a better conveyance, to the residence of their uncle in West Hartford, a distance of five miles. They were encumbered with cloaks and budgets, and had some difficulty in finding their way. But, says Sherman, in his branch of the letter, " After much inquiry and fatigue, we at length arrived at a place, which from the bridge , the hill, and the elm tree, which we have so often heard of, we knew to be the land of our fore- fathers." William's branch of the letter is partially devoted to domestic relations, but not exclusively. He speaks of their going into the city to attend the ceremonies of the general election, which at that period were remarkable for their pageantry, and consisted in part of religious exercises: "I believe," he says, "I never saw so much bustle, parade, and nonsense, in all my life. The multitude of people was immense. A Mr. , (Presbyterian,) from , de- livered the sermon, from I forget where, and I cannot refer to it very conveniently. His discourse was an hour and three quarters in length exactly, by the watch ! " From this he turns to personal •20 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS-^TELL. [1822. things : " We have made but little progress in horsemanship, as we have had but little practice. We intend, however, to return expe- rienced horsemen, as they have two fine, gentle horses. There has been but little pleasant weather, and some part of the time I have been quite homesick I really wish I had a camera obscura here, for there is a most beautiful prospect from the top of the hill." During the ensuing college vacation, in the autumn, the two brothers undertook another and much longer journey, and almost wholly on foot. Having sent their trunk forward by a private con- veyance, they left home on Tuesday morning, and taking Ldtchfield, Canaan, Sheffield, and other intermediate towns on their route, arrived at Hudson, N. Y., on Saturday evening. This, for young pedestrians, was no small effort ; but they seem to have been carried through, according to William's account of the matter, without any harm. Thus he writes, from Hudson, IMonday morning, Octo- ber 8, 1821 : " Dear Parents : I write to inform you that we are here, and neither sick nor any wise fatigued We arrived on Saturday evening, about six o'clock, in good spirits, and conceiving ourselves to be thoroughly experienced in the pedestrian art. Of course, we have been five days in accomplishing our journey, and have averaged nearly twenty miles a day. During the whole route, we have rode but eight miles ; yet our feet were not sore, neither were our hearts faint." The young travellers, after visiting their friends in Catskill, pro- ceeded down the river to New York, and from thence in a packet to their home in New Haven, where they arrived on the night of the 20th of October. They were now ready, on the commence- ment of the college term, to enter upon the last year of their academic life. At this critical period, their father, feeling great solicitude for their future welfare, addressed to each of them a letter, dated Feb- ruary 2, 1822, earnestly urging them to an early attention to the subject of religion. And subsequently, on the 17th of July, after they had taken their final examination in college, and had been recommended for the bachelor's degree, he spent an evening with them in conversation on their future pursuits and prospects. He did not deem it his duty to exercise his authority in directing them in the choice of their profession. In his letter, he thus expresses himself on this subject : " It is true, that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see you qualified and disposed to pursue the study of theology ; and more especially, as it miglit be in my power to afford you greater facilities in this pursuit than in any other. But should this ever be your choice, let it be the unbiased dictate of your own heart and conscience. Either of the liberal professions will offer you opportunities for deep scientific and liter- 1822.1 CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 21 ary research, a taste for which, I liop^, you will always sediilously cultivate. In either of these professions, or in the fine arts, you may, by assiduity and industry, through the divine blessing, arrive at a creditable degree of excellence. But be assured that you can do nothing well, nothing for your own present benefit or satisfac- tion, or for the promotion of your future welfare, without laying your foundation on the faith of the gospel, and a love of God and his holy precepts." Tliere is no evidence that this letter produced any special influ- ence on the mind of either of the brothers. Sherman subsequently chose the profession of the law ; while William, though doubtless well qualified by his devout and serious turn of thought to enter upon theological studies, hesitated for a long time in his choice. His extreme diffidence and distrust of himself led him to shrink from the high responsibilities of such a profession. There was a constant struggle between his inclinations and his fears. He felt an ardent desire to prepare for the sacred office, but his convic- tions of duty were not sufficiently strong to overcome his natural want of confidence in his fitness ; and it will be found, as we pro- ceed in his personal narrative, that it was not until a later period that he had so far overmastered his scruples, as to present himself for confirmation. Soon after their graduation, at the commencement of 1822, the two brothers opened a select school in New Haven, and received a competent number of pupils from their principal friends in the city. This, however, was not intended for a permanent occupation. Sherman entered the law school during the ensuing winter ; and from this time, the two brothers, whose interests, pursuits, studies, amusements and diversions had hitherto been so intimately blended, were compelled, by the allotments of Providence, to part company, as it were, and pursue their way through life by different paths. It is true, that their fraternal attachment, which had always been exceedingly warm and affectionate, suffered no diminution by sepa- ration or distance. The old fountain of love and sympathy was stirred up afresh, as ofte^i as they met or exchanged sentiments by letter. WiLLiAJi devoted much time to reading, always giving the pref- erence to works of substantial value, such as the English classics and the standard poets. He seemed averse to tying himself down to any steady pursuit. This was not the effect of instability or fickleness, but arose from the fact that his heart refused all sympa- thy with secular concerns. He spent some time in travelling and visiting his friends, and occasionally sought some temporary employ ment ; but wherever he might be, or however occupied, he found it impossible to divert his mind wholly from the one great object, 22 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1823. which was gradually working its influence upon his heart and conscience. He commenced a journey, with his cousin E. S., to Catskill, on the 25th of June, 1823, the particulars of which we must gather from his letters : — "New York, Friday, June 27, 1823. " Dear Parents : The day on which we left New Haven was eventually clear, cool, and comfortable. The passage was as yjleas- ant as a smooth sea, and good company, could make it. As the boat passed near the northern shore, there was a constant succes- sion of picturesque prospects. Highland and lowland, huts and hedgerows, sandy banks and sunny meads, alternately presented themselves Some half a dozen persons were taken on board at Stratford Point, which made the whole number about thirty, all of whom were polite and accommodating. The boat proceeded with the noise, as well as the velocity, of the cataract, and arrived at Byram Cove * about two o'clock. Our thirty pas- sengers were here distributed into three vehicles. The one in which I rode was so crammed, that I expected we should all be melted into one mass before we reached our journey's end. Fortunately, however, we arrived here, in good health and spirits, about half past six. I am quite at home in our boarding house. It is a fine, spa- cious building, fronting the Battery ; its situation commanding all the beauties of a water prospect, and enjoying all the benefits of wholesome air. In the evening, I attended the performance of Macbeth, at the theatre. The house was thin, and the actors, as I was informed, were not first rate. With me, however, the performance excited a deep interest, which was probably heightened by the novelty of the splendid decorations and dresses, and the beauty of the building." This was, doubtless, the first theatrical perft)rmance that he ever witnessed, if we except certain dramatic exhibitions by the successive classes in Yale College. In these it would seem that he sometimes figured, both as author and actor. But the. scenery and decorations of the stage were all new to him. The tragedy alone, however, was sufficient to satisfy his curiosity, and he left the theatre before the afterpiece was performed. On the following day, he went with * Byram Ilivdr, of which the Cove is the mouth, is twenty-eight miles from the city of New York, and forms the boundary between the states of Connect- icut and New York. The steamboats owned by independent companies were compelled to stop and land their i)assengers at this point, in compliance wdth a law of the state of New York, giv'ing to Robert Fulton, Esq., for a term of thirty years, the exchisive right of uaA^igating the waters of the state with steam vessels. This restriction was afterwards removed by the United States Court, and the navigation left open and fi.ee to aU. 1824.] CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 23 his cousin to see Pcales Court of Death, and the view of Versailles, at the Rotunda. They also visited the Museum, whicli, at that day, made up the sum of siglit seeing in New York. They next pro- ceeded on their way to Catskill ; and, from his account of the matter, we learn what a formidable affair it must have been to make a voyage on the river in the packets, which then afforded the only comfortable conveyance between New York and the towns below Albany : — " Catskill, Monday, Jime 30, 1823. " Dear Parents : We embarked in the ' Shakspeare ' on Fri- day evening. The weather was foul, but the wind fair. It only continued long enough, however, to carry us some twenty or thirty miles during the night. The next day, with light and heavy breezes alternately, we reached Newburg, and, on the succeeding morning, were within twenty-five miles of Catskill ; but a brisk north-wester prevented our arrival till five o'clock, P. M. The passage has been pleasant, the packet pretty, the captain civil, the company capital." We now pass on to the ensuing year. Early in 1824, his uncle, Dr. Thomas O'H. Croswell, one of the principal physicians in the village of Catskill, N. Y., kindly proposed to receive him into liis office, and give him every facility for studying his own profes- sion. Could he have reconciled himself to the idea of preparing for a profession for which he had no taste or inclination, he might have considered this as a most advantageous offer. To reject it, without due reflection, would have been ungracious. He therefore, without positively decUning, merely stated some reasons for hesi- tating in his decision. This called forth a more urgent letter from his uncle, expressing his regret at this hesitation, and a hope that he might still be able to overcome his aversion. He now felt bound to decline the offer altogether. He was doubtless unwilling to devote his time to the study of any other profession than that for which he was evidently destined ; but he may have had special grounds of aversion to the medical profession. He was once induced to attend a lecture at the Medical College in New Haven, when it so happened that anatomy was the theme, and a subject was placed on the table for dissection. He was horror-stricken, and, after a fainting turn, came home pale and trembling. This extreme nervous sensibility, and delicacy of feeling, were his abiding char- acteristics to the end of his life. Having disposed of this offer, he next received an application from another quarter, and of a very different nature. In the autumn following, his cousin, Edwin Croswell, Esq., editor of the Albany Argus, inquired of him what were his engagements, and what disposition he proposed to make of himself, in case he should 24 MEMOm OF ^TLLIAM CROS^\^LL. [1824. not engage in professional study. This inquiry was followed by the proposal, that he should spend the remainder of the fall and winter in Albany, and, without making any very definite arrange- ment, should assist his cousin, either in the legislature or in the editorial arrangements ; while lie miglit, in the mean time, devote some leisure to the study of law. This was considered as a flat- tering proposal ; and as it did not bind him to any definite action for the future, he consented, by the advice of his parents, to accept it. Accordingly, after some necessary detention, on the evening of the 8th of November, he took his departure in the steamboat for New York, from whence he was to proceed to Albany. He took the earliest opportunity to announce his arrival : — "Albany, Wednesday Evening^ November 11, 182-4. " Mt dear Father : The new scenes which have been constantly presenting themselves, since I left New Haven, have not so com- pletely dissipated my mind as to render me entirely unable to collect my thoughts sufficiently to give you some account of them. I feel indeed that it requires some effi^rt to write ; but it would require a still greater to be silent. Our passage to New York was as pleasant as rapid sailing and good company could make it ; the number of passengers being small and select, so that the arrangements with respect to berths, &c., were unusually commodious. We left the wharf about the gray of the evening, and arrived in New York at two in the morning. As soon as it was light, I had my trunk trans- ported to the Olive Branch, which sailed at ten o'clock We passed the Highlands by daylight ; and although it was a dismal, rainy day, I tliought their appearance was never more imposing. The passengers were here likewise few, and the accommodations were indifferently good. We went as rapidly as steam could draw wood through the water, and reached this place about daybreak tliis morning." His cousin received him cordially, and had already engaged board and lodgings for him at a pleasant boarding house, where he had two law students for his roommates. It was now suggested to him that he would be expected to report the debates in one of the branches of the legislature, and assist the editor in arranging the miscellany of the Argus. It was also proposed that he should enter his name as a law student in the office of a friend of his cousin. The latter proposal was not complied with ; and we shall learn, from his next communication, how soon the whole arrangement was relinquished. He addressed a letter to his father, on the 20th of November, in which he speaks of his employment as taking occasional memoranda ^ of the legislative debates ; and this occupied so little of his time, that his hands are left " full of leisure." He represents his cousin 1825.] STUDY OF THE LAW. 25 as kind and attentive, his boarding house snug and comfortable, his roommates pleasant and agreeable ; and yet he confesses that all these circumstances are not sufficient to protect him from what he calls " the hyp" He felt, unquestionably, that " aching void," from which nothing could relieve him but the one thtng for which his spirit was panting. He expresses a strong desire to return home; a measure to which, he says, he is doubly induced, by judg- ment as well as inclination. He seems to feel, for the moment, as if necessity were laid upon him to pursue the study of the law. On this subject he says, " I begin to grow uneasy at the thoughts of suspending my professional pursuits any longer, I have spent time enough in the pleasures of desultory study. I do not, however, regret that they have detained me from an earlier application to the law — ' not taking thought,' as Milton says, ' of being late, so it gives advantage to be more fit.' . . . . As an auxiliary to Edwin, my stay is of no sort of consequence. He would regret to have me leave Albany, but wishes me to consult solely my own advan- tage, which, I am confident, I should do by retracing my course to New Haven." He speaks in this letter of the old rectory house, in which he had spent a portion of his childhood, as looking perfectly natural. " We were shown," he says, " into the back room opposite the library, in which the stove and piano were precisely of the same pattern with ours." The remainder of this letter is filled up with pleasant gossip, and with some political hints and reflections which would be neither seasonable nor profitable at this day, and concludes with this salutation : " Give my aflfectionate remembrances to the whole circle of relatives and friends, ' one by one, according to the scrip.' " To this communication he soon received a hearty response from his father, and also from his brother Sherman, who playfully assured him that he would be met " while a great way off"," (at the end of Long Wharf,) and received in all respects according to the parable. He arrived at home on the evening of the 5th of December. During the ensuing year, 1825, which he spent chiefly at home, much of his time was given to reading ; but he probably made but little progress in his law books. He never thought seriously of pursuing the law as a profession, and evidently took no interest in the study. He cherished his passion for poetry ; and it is supposed that some of the most interesting and popular juvenile productions of his pen were written at this period. The following fragment, under date of 1824, is found among his loose manuscripts ; and being in his own handwriting, and without quotation marks, it is to be presumed that it may have been liis first, and, for aught that appears to the contrary, his last attempt at blank verse. It shows he devout turn of his mind at this period : — 4 26 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1825. Lord of the Sabbath, hear me — even Thou In the beginning who didst consecrate A meet proportion of the new-born time To thy perpetual service, to assist The deep infirmities of mortal kind ; Blessing the seventh day and hallowing it As a memorial of thine own repose From thy creative labors, and a pledge And presage of the glorious rest eterne Remaining for the Israel of God. Here let me worship, as the Hebrew did, In the serene of yon deep vault, ere Thou, Half veiled within the tabernacle bright, Made thy pavilion in the wilderness, Amid the long, white avenues of tents. The world's great Fathers, in those primal days. Drowned in the abyss of ages which have been. Made each high hill their altar. Happy they Who met together, at this holy hour, Beneatli some mountain palm, the place of prayei, Ere temple rose, or oratory cool Was built fast by the sea or river side 1824. But he had no ambition to see his writings in print ; and until he became, afterwards, a joint editor of the Episcopal Watchman, very few, if any, of them found their way to the press. An inci- dent may here be mentioned, to show that, while his thoughts were ready to flow in poetic numbers, he had no desire to see them per- petuated by publication. He was invited, by the corporation of the city, to dehver an oration, as a part of the public exercises of the 4th of July. To a youth of twenty years, this was considered as a high compliment ; and he was unwilling to refuse. But dreading the idea of writing a prose oration, on an occasion which had been so often celebrated in this way, and having no hope of giving any thing like an air of novelty to the subject, he proposed to substitute a poem. This offer was readily accepted. The poem consisted of several hundred lines, and contained some brilliant passages, and was considered, as a whole, very creditable to the author. He was requested, in terms sufliciently flattering, to furnish a copy for publication ; but though he had so far overcome his natural diffi- dence as to deliver it with considerable animation and fluency, he could not be persuaded to give it to the press. This poem is probably lost, as no trace of it can be found among his papers. He doubtless destroyed it, lest it might, at some future time, be drawn from its concealment, and exposed to the public eye. This would have been in accordance with his general views, in respect 1825.] EARLY POETRY. 27 to the publication of his writings, as expressed in the restriction ah-eady mentioned in the Introduction. How much of his juvenile poetry may have met, first or last, with a similar fate, it is impossible to tell. A few of his early productions have been recovered, through the kindness of his friends and correspondents. Some, especially those of a serious or devo- tional cast, were subsequently transferred to the columns of the Episcopal Watchman ; and others may have found their way into the periodicals of the day. If any have been suppressed, they are doubtless those of a lighter character. He sometimes indulged, by way of amusement, in strains of pleasantry and wit ; but as he had no ambition to shine as a facetious writer, he probably took no pains to ijreserve copies of productions of this nature. It is not known at what time the following was written. Though bearing date February, 1820, it was communicated to his cousin E. S. at a much later period. He ascribes it to an imaginary character, Mister Peter Pattieson, whom he calls his " late lamented classmate," and affects to be reminded of it by hearing the chapel bell in the morning, while on a visit to New Haven. He begs his cousin to be very particular about showing it to any body, lest it might be supposed that he had some hand in the composition — assuring her that " the Rowley papers are not more genuine ! " THE CHAJPEL BELL. FB.OM THE MANUSCRIPT OP A LATE POOR SCHOLAR. " The chapel hell with grief they heard, The dinner bell with glee." Old Song. Dan Chaucer, in my dreaming ear Methinks thou reasonest well — " What jingleth in the wind so clear As doth a chapel bell ?" The tongue, that once roused holy clerk To lauds and primes, is still, In college towers, as hard at work — As lively and as shrill. That chapel bell no ear forgets That once its voice has known, And way of turning somersets Peculiarly its own : Hark ! how they follow round and round, And oft in silence dance. As if, for very joy, the sound Had lost its utterance ! lIEMOm OF WILLIAM CROS^^TILL. Alas ! old chapel bell, to me, Whose precious dreams are broke By these remains of Popery, Thy jargon is no joke ! I've mixed too much with Protestants, And trust I ever shall, To relish these monastic haunts, And hours canonical. No hooded monks, 'tis true, meet there, O'er shrine of martyred saint ; But martyrs we to drowsy prayer, As lamps burn dim and faint. As prayers grow dull and lights grow dim, More dull and faint grow we. Till we might well recite the hymn, " Usque quo, Domine !" And duller yet that scene of gloom Where students stretch and yawn. Pent up in recitation room An hour before the dawn ; Well may the cheek with blushes glow, To think of wrongs then done Thy injured shade, O Cicero ! And tliine, O Xenophon ! A fig for all the silly talk Of early matin prayers, Of long and lone suburban walk. And bracing morning airs ; If stomachs are unbreakfasted, The case can scarce be worse ; And if as empty is the head, 'Tis sure a double curse. I'll bless my stars, which shine so bright, When I shall be no more Compelled to rise by candlelight. But vote it all a bore. I'll laugh as I have never laughed. Nor dread the coming ill Of meeting some protested draft Of monitorial bill. O, how I grudge that graduate's luck Who has of sleep his fill. 1825.1 EAELY POETRY. 29 And snores like Captain Clutterbuck, Released from morning drill. He rises not at tuck of drum, Nor with the daybreak gun, Nor always, it is said by some, With winter's tardy sun. Like him, these summons I'll deride. Draw closer down my cap, And, turning on my other side, Resume my morning nap. I'll linger for a riclier tone. Till in the breakfast bell I feel, and with the poet own. Thy touch, Ithuriel ! * From the collections of a friend, another specimen of his early- poetry may be given. A ballad, without date, bearing the title of " New Haven," appears to have been written under the influence of some old college reminiscences, and is exceedingly picturesque and grapliic. Parts of the ballad, however, must be omitted ; as there are some ludicrous incidents alluded to, which, though suita- ble enough for a passing satire, it would be hardly fair to perpetuate. The lines seem to have been suggested by seeing a colored engrav- ing of the centre of the city in a shop window. A window in a picture shop ; it brought all back to me The churches and the colleges, and each familiar tree ; And, like a sunlit emerald, came glancing out between Its pretty, snow-white palisades, the verdure of " the Green." O, could T write an Ode, like Gray's, " upon a distant view Of Eton College," — could I draw the pictures that he drew, — How would the pleasant images that round my temple throng Live in descriptive dactyls, and look verdantly, in song. " Tres faciunt collegium," each jurist now agrees ; Which means, in the vernacular, " a college made of trees ; " And, "bosomed high in tufted boughs," yon venerable rows The maxim in its beauty and its truth alike disclose. Not 30 when, lit with midnight oil, the casements in long line. Where more is meant than meets the eye, like constellations shine ; And, " alma mater like," the kine, from dairy fields astray. Make every passage where tiiey pass a sort of milky way. IthTuiel's whisper in the breakfast bell." N. P. Willis. 30 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CR0S^\T;LL. [1826 And on the green and easy slope where those proud columns stand, " In Dorian mood," with academe and temple on each hand, The football and the cricket match upon my vision rise. With all the clouds of classic dust kicked in each other's eyes. I see my own dear mother Church, that Avarned me from my sin, The walls so Gothic all without, so glorious all within. And, emblem of that ancient faith her hallowed courts that fills, Reared from the adamantine rock, " the everlasting hills." O, could the vista of my life but now as bright appear As when I first through Temple Street looked down thine espalier, How soon to thee, my early home, would I once more repair. And cheer again my sinking heart with my own native air ! 1826. We now come to an eventful year, 1826, when, having passed liis minority, and taken due counsel, and sought divine direction, he became fixed in his purposes, and, turning away from all other pursuits, resolved to devote himself to the study of a profession, for which he was, in all respects, peculiarly fitted. He made a full disclosure to his father of his doubts, difficulties, and misgivings ; but with all his fear and trembling, he felt such trust in the help of his heavenly Father, that he no longer hesitated in his decision. Arrangements were accordingly made for his entering the General Theological Seminary in New York ; and at the opening of the term in the ensuing autumn, he became a member of that institu- tion. Under date of October 17 and 18, 1826, he writes as follows : " I am here safe in the seminary house, after a most delightful passage. I counted about thirty passengers at table on board the Hudson, and exchanged a word with one or two of them. At half past nine, when the boat was just opposite the revolving light at Stratford, I clambered up, and laid myself to rest on the upper slielf, spending the remainder of the night in that comfortable kind of repose vulgarly called dog sleep. At half past three, some of the passengers might have reported themselves where Milton has placed his Death and Sin, " fast by Hell Gate ; " * and in another hour we were at our place of destination. I felt grateful to Him who is the Preserver, as well as the Maker of men, when it was so •, * So this rugged pass was usually called, instead of Hurl Gate. 1826.] THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 31 for the tremendous and incessant rumble of the engine made me aware of my own insignificance, and the awful agency within whose reach I lay. I could also hear the waves gush and gurgle against the side of the boat ; and a sense of my insecurity occurred to me, with the reflection that but a few planks separated my berth from the billows. I rose at five, while the moon was yet shining, and had a fine opportunity to see the morning gradually open upon the harbor of New York. At half past six I started for Tripler's, and arrived there in time for breakfast. I delivered my letters, found M. and Y., and spent most of the day in unpacking and arranging my books. I was not much surprised to find that the students all room in couples ; and as there was but one vacancy at present, I have Hob- son's choice both as to room and roommate. In the latter respect, I believe I am fortunate. His name is A . He is in the third year ; his experience probably will be worth something ; and his manners seem to be gentlemanly and accommodating. Ours is a back room, high, small, and quiet. I understand that this arrangement, with regard to apartments, is merely temporary. In a few weeks, I expect to go in with one of my own class, probably G. . . . (18th.) Attended the Convention. The bishop's address was inter- esting, and disclosed a wonderful amount of episcopal labors. No less than nineteen hundred and forty persons have received confir- mation from this prelate in the course of his last visitation. To-morrow I shall call on Dr. Turner and the professors of the institution. I doubt not that I shall hke both the mode of life and the fashion of study. I am gratified with the prospect of renewing academical pursuits, and hope the transition from the study of human to that of divine law will be the period from which I may date my years of usefulness." This letter was immediately followed by another, under date of the 19th, 20th, and 21st of October. He speaks of repeated attacks of "excessive bleeding at the nose," for which he was obhged to call in medical aid. This complaint gave him a great deal of trouble, from time to time, in after years, and may have been indic- ative of the disease that finally caused his death. Having delivered his letter of introduction to Professor Turner, he expresses himself in terms of great respect and esteem, and says, " I am much inter- ested in the manner of recitation and instruction. The exercises open with prayer ; the students then translate passages by turns, and expound and explain, with such comments, doctrinal, critical, and practical, as they can collect. These are corrected and com- pleted by the professor." His next letter is under date of October 23, in which, in addition to his accustomed allusions to domestic matters, he says, " This morning I shifted my location to one of the most eligible rooms in our boarding house. I anticipate much enjoyment from the society .'i2 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^VELL. [1826. of my class and roommate, Mr. G , an amiable youngs gentleman, from one of the most respectable families in Maryland, and who has been a disciple of Mr. Justice Blackstone about the same length of time with myself. As Falstaft' says, ' Would you desire better sym- pathy ? ' . . . Professor Moore has not been well enough to resume the recitations in Hebrew since I have been here, but is expected to commence again to-morrow. I have reason to hope it will thrive vigorously under my cultivation, if there be any truth in Butler's adage, that " Hebrew roots are always found To flourish best on barren ground ; " which I take the trouble to repeat myself, for the express purpose of depriving the squire of that malicious pleasure. Remember, and pray for yours always, W. Croswell." His letters follow each other almost daily ; but they are chiefly occupied with private and family concerns. From one, however, of the 30th of October, a playful passage may be cited : " We are yet in the very rudiments of the Hebrew, and our advances are perfectly snail-like and imperceptible. If Professor 3Ioore was not one of the most mild and unassuming men of learning in the world, he could never tolerate the stammering and blundering of such full-grown novitiates in the Hebrew horn book. But he is Clement by nature, as well as by name. It is related of Hutchins, that he once indulged his disposition for pleasantry by playfully translating a passage of Scripture, ' I love Clement C. Moore {clemency more) than sacrifice.' " During his father's absence from home, while attending the General Convention in Philadelphia, he addressed his letters to other members of the family. To his mother, under date of No- vember 6, he says, " Bishop Hobart held a sort of convocation of all the members of the seminary, at his house, last Tluirsday even- ing. He treated us with great aftability and kindness, and I returned much gratified with the visit. His late charge to the convention, entitled ' The High Churchman vindicated,' was this day published by the Swords ; and I have already wrapped up and directed a copy to the home department." It is pleasant to record this unaffected tribute to Bishop Hobart, and especially in connection with a publication which probably con- tributed, more than any thing else, to settle and confirm this young candidate for the sacred ministry in those sound views of church policy which he carried with him to his grave. His next letters are addressed to his brothers, Sherman and Frederick, and are enlivened with his usual pleasantry : " My locks have just been shorn by that prince of haircutters, S ; 1826.] THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 33 but I cannot perceive that my strength is a jot abated. If you wish to visit New York, wait till your hair is long, and let S do the business. He has made his fortune by it, and ranks it among the higher sciences. He seats you, on a seat like a music stool, before a large mirror, and, standing unmoved himself, he twirls you round, till every quarter of the cranium comes under his comb and scissors. During the operation, he discourses like an oracle on phrenology, and tlie manner in which the hair is to be adjusted to compensate for any disproportion of the features. As my visage is long, he advises to wear it flat on the forehead, to aid the defect of breadth ! and yet I have not fallen away in flesh since I left home. If en- gaged, he turns your attention to the paintings with which the room is adorned, and talks as scholarly and technically about the art as any connoisseur. ' That,' for instance, ' is either a Rubens or Correggio ; critics are not agreed. If it is a Rubens, it was done when he tinted highly, and imitated Correggio, as was the case when he studied in Italy,' &c. He was pleased to compliment me on my taste for the fine arts. I might have told him, I was no great judge myself, but that I had a brother who went about judging." In a later letter, he gives a graphic description of the new sem- inary house, which was then in progress of building. To those now acquainted with its condition, and the full-built streets around it, the change in about twenty-five years will seem marvellous : " We found the edifice in a beautifully-sheltered and secluded spot, within a stone's throw of the North River. It is built of irregular stone, and shows through the trees like a genuine antique ; turrets, but- tresses, battlements, heavy Gothic casements, and all that sort of thing, conspiring to give it the air of ' cloistered solitude.' We shall probably take possession of it early in the spring." This anticipation, so far as he was concerned, was never realized. In his last letters from the seminary, he discloses the fact of his having frequent ill turns, speaks despondingly of his general health, and expresses some doubts as to the expediency of remaining at the seminary. To this his father replies, under date of November 23, 1826, " With regard to your continuance at the seminary, I wish to leave it entirely to your unbiased judgment and inclination. If an important advantage is to be gained by it ; if you can acquire there knowledge which is essential, and which cannot be acquired elsewhere in the same time ; and if, every thing considered, you think it best, I wish you by all means to stay. You need not, in this case, regard any sacrifice which I may make in a pecuniary point of view ; for you may rest assured that it will be made most cheer- fiiUy. My desire is, that you should fit yourself for that usefulness which your talents encourage you to strive for ; and in whatever way this can best be promoted, I leave you freely to decide. Wher- ever you are, and under whatever circumstances you pursue your 5 34 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827. studies, be careful to cherish tliat spirit of piety and devotion without which learning and talents will avail nothing ; and look forward to your profession as a scene of arduous labor, not to be rewarded in this ^vorld except by the answer of a good conscience, and that peace of God which passeth understanding, and which the world can neither give nor take away." Finding no permanent improvement of his health, and being threatened with a fever, he was advised by his physician to return home, and relinquish his studies, at least until after the ensuing Christmas vacation. This advice was reluctantly followed, but evi- dently not too soon for his benefit. He was much debilitated, and required the peculiar care which he could not expect in a large boarding house, though his roommate was exceedingly kind and attentive. He soon recovered his strength, and, on the festival of Christmas, was able to attend the church in which he was nurtured, and had the privilege of receiving the holy communion, for the first time, at the hands of his father. At this period, another change, not of his own seeking, aw^aited him. The Churchmen of Connecticut were desirous of establishing, at the seat of the new college in Hartford, a weekly journal, as the exponent of the principles and views of the Church ; and our young candidate for holy orders was selected, and earnestly solicited, by the bishop, who was then president of the college, as well as the professors and other resident clergymen, to leave the seminary, and, while still pursuing his theological studies, to assume, jointly with Professor Doane, the editorial management of this paper. This offer was doubtless designed to hold out many advantages ; but his father, who knew experimentally the vexations and troubles of an editorial life, fearing it might overtask the powers both of his body and his mind, very naturally objected to the plan. These objections, however, were overruled ; and early in the ensuing year, he accept- ed the offer, and removed to Hartford. 1827. His correspondence, at this period, relates chiefly to personal matters, to his preparations for commencing the new paper, and to his pleasant relations with the associate editor. He writes with great vivacity, and indulges occasionally in his native vein of pleas- antry ; but he is never for a moment forgetful of the obligations of his Christian profession. Under date of 3Iarch 3, he writes, " I have, a second time, received the holy sacrament of the body 1827.J EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 35 and blood of Christ, and desire your prayers that I may receive the full benefit of his atonement, and be prepared to meet him with joy." Of the friendship contracted by this editorial arrangement, no one can speak so truly and so feelingly as Bishop (then Professor) DoANE himself. This is tlie language of his commemorative ser- mon: "It was in 1826 that our intimate relations commenced; and man has never been in closer bonds with man than he with me, for five and twenty years. A letter from him to a mutual friend, the witness and the sharer of our earliest years of happiness, brings down the tokens of his unswerving confidence and perfect love within the latest fortnight of his life. . . . Our intercourse was intimate at once, and we never had a feeling or a thought to part us." The paper of which he was to assume the joint editorship was entitled The Episcopal Watchman ; and after some unavoidable delay, the first number was issued on the 26th of March, 1827. From this time, his aversion to seeing his productions in print was, of course, removed ; and he not only brought to light some of the effusions of his pen, which had tlius far been concealed from the public eye, and confined exclusively to private hands, but he fur- nished for each successive number of the paper, besides his due proportion of prose articles, some poetical contributions. Among these, a series of Sonnets, under the signature of Asaph, will take the first place in our selections. The following appeared in the first number : — O Thou, whom slumber reacheth not, nor sleep, The guardian God of Zion, in whose sight A thousand years pass like a watch at night, Her battlements and high munitions keep, Or else the Watchman waketh but in vain. Him, in his station newly set, make strong. And, in his vigils, vigilant ; sustain His overwearied spirit, in its long And lonely round from eve till matin song ; And of Thy charge remind him, " Watch and pray." So, whether coming#at the midnight bell, Or at cock crowing, or at break of day, Thou find him faithful, and say, " All is well," How rich is the reward of that true sentinel ! " Could it have been any better, or any different," asks Bishop DoANE, in his commemorative discourse, "if he had been premon- ished of his course through life, or if he had written it on the day on which his life was closed 1 " 36 JIEMOIU OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827 The following Sonnet was next in order, and appeared near the close of the Lenten season : — LENT. The holy Lenten time is now far spent ; And from the muffled altars, every where, Full many a warning voice has bid prepare The Lord's highway, and cried aloud, Repent ! And be your hearts, and not your garments, rent ; And turn unto the Lord your God with prayer. Not, as aforetime, are the contrite sent To sackcloth, ashes, and the shirt of hair. Or knotted thong ; but consciences laid bare, And lowly minds, and knees in secret bent, And fasts in spirit, mark the penitent. Let not the broken hearted, then, despair ; The siglis of those who "worthily lament" Their sins reach Heaven, and are accepted there. The next evidently points to his own conformity to the instituted rites of his Church : — CONFrR:MATION. The white-stoled Bisliop stood amid the crowd. Novitiates all, who, tutored to revere The mitre's holy offices, drew near, And, after sins renounced and pledges vowed, Pale with emotion and religious fear. In meek subjection, round the chancel, bowed, To hallowed hands, that o'er them, one by one, Fell with a Prelate's thrilling benison. Thou, who canst make the loadstone's touch impart An active virtue to the tempered steel, O, let Thy hand rest on them, till they feel A new-born impulse stirring^n the heart. And, swinging from surrounding objects free. Point with a tremulous confidence to Thee. The Sonnets, with one or two exceptions, are devotional, and adapted to sacred occasions. Even when he stoops to apostrophize an humble flower, his thoughts rise intuitively to heavenly musings. Here we have a striking example : — 1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 37 TO THE HEPATICA TRILOBA, FOUND IN MARCH. Why liftest thou, so premature, thy head Amid the withered waste, pale flower ? Say, why Dost thou, alone and desolate, defy The year, yet unconfirmed, while there is shed No wholesome dew upon thy leaf-strewn bed, All choked and matted, but the frost wind's sigh Is heard, at eve, thy chill slope rustling by ? Hast thou forgot thy time, or dost thou spread Thy sweet leaves to the air, and smiling wave 'Mid blasted verdure, like the garland shed By fond affection, o'er the early grave, To breathe its bloom around the youthful dead ? Short be their sleep in dust as thine, fair flower ; So wake to life and joy when past their wintry hour ! In the following he affects the style and orthography of some of the older English poets. Whatever may be objected to this, as a matter of taste, it must be admitted that it throws no obscurity over the devout sentiments inculcated ; nor does it interrupt the charac- teristic smoothness and easy flow of his versification. INFANT BAPTISM. Howe heavenlie an inheritance is thine, Sweet babe ! whom yon baptismal groupe present, Nowe that the consecrating elemente Hathe bathed thie forehead, and the crucial signe Is as a frontlet bounde between the eyne, In token that hereafter thou shall be A faithfull soldier in the cause divine, And, in thie triple warfare, manfullie Beneath the banner of the Crosse shalt fighte. If Christe himself so tenderlie invite The little children to his heavenlie fold, They mocke his ordinance, and doe despite Unto his highe beheste, who dare withholde Or yet delaye the pure, regenerating rite. 38 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827. WASHINGTON (NOW TRINITY) COLLEGE. " In after days shall come heroic youth, Warm from the school of glory." With a pride I quote thy high prediction, Akenside, In joyous hope to realize its truth, Ere envious Time print his undainty tooth Upon these sombre walls, which then descried 'Mid groves that half develop and half hide, Shall haply stay some loiterer by the flow Of Hart's sweet waves, that gladden as they glide By wooded steep, green bank, and margin low, Till o'er his soul float up in classic dream The long-lost image of the Portico, * The Sophist's seat, fast by Ilyssus' stream, Lyceum's green retreats, and walks of Academe. TO A WINGED FIGURE BY RAPHAEL. Whether thou gazest up to some far isle In the star-sprinkled depths above, where live The race from whom thou art a fugitive, Unseen, unheard from, for a dreary while ; Or whether seeking to restrain the smile That rises to thy lips, thy fingers strive To hide what eyes so bold and bright contrive ; Or whether meditating good or guile, Thou restest on thine arm contemplative — Are problems deeper than the thought can dive. But if thy breast be not a holy pile. Where nought unclean hath entered to defile, Then Heaven forgive thee, false one ! and forgive That I should trifle with a theme so vile. CHRIST BEARING THE CROSS. PAINTED BY DUNIAP. If thou wouldst fortify thy young belief. Christian disciple, read with anxious look The pictured comment on the holy book, That tells the sufferings of thy chosen Chief, Nor let the look be single, neither brief: 1827.] EDITOllIAL EMPLOYMENT. That tortured eye, and countenance so meek, So mild, and yet majestical, bespeak The Man of Sorrows, intimate with grief. From him learn how divinity could lend A dignity to suffering, nor disdain Art's utmost effort in one face to blend Immortal fortitude with mortal pain ; And let not faith despise the aid of sense, Nor spurn the " pencil's mute omnipotence." SAINT BARTHOLOMEW. Though it were eminence enough to be Enrolled among the apostolic few, Who, at their Master's call, devotedly Went forth his self-denying work to do, This is not all thy praise, Bartholomew ; Thou for such fellowship wast set apart. By One who saw thee from afar, and knew Thy spirit undefiled and void of art. And still the portrait which thy Savior drew Bears record to thy singleness of heart. For wide as Gospel tidings have been spread Throughout all tongues, o'er continent and isle, Shall this memorial to thy worth be read — " An Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile.'' THE KNELL. Not e'en thy heavenly and harmonious swell, Calling to Sabbath worship with a sound From tower to tower reverberated round, Can with my spirit harmonize so well As that sad requiem, melancholy bell ! Which with unvaried cadence, stern and dull, Tolls for the burial of the beautiful. There is a potent and a thrilling spell In every solitary stroke, to start Long-cherished thoughts from memory's inmost cell, And deep affections ; while each warning tone That rests, 'mid solemn pauses far apart, Like drops of water dripping on a stone. Cheerless and ceaseless, wears into the heart. 40 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSAA^LL. [1827. SAINT MATTHEW. Renouncing a vocation so abhorred, Uncertain riches and the lust of gain, How blest it were, commanded by the Lord, While yet he passes by, to join his train, And taking up his cross, to walk like thee ! Nor be the power of those examples vain Which thine own sacred registries record ; But written for our learning may they be. Read, marked, discerned, digested inwardly, Until we see the path of duty plain. Embrace the truth, and ever hold it fast. And pressing onward, daily self-surpassed, By comfort of that holy word, attain The same eternal promises at last. SAINT LUKE. Blessed Physician ! from thy ancient scroll Can we not draw some wholesome medicine To heal the heart that sickens with its sin, And cure the deep distemper of the soul? Is there no balm in Gilead, to make whole The bruised and broken spirit, and within The bleeding bosom stanch the wound, and win The stubborn malady to its control ? Blessed Physician ! happy is thy dole. Whose praise hath in the Gospel ever been ; For thou wast His disciple who could bring Help to the helpless on their bed of pain, And from the gates of double death again Restore the hopeless in their languishing. THE KNOT. Holy and happy be the wedded pair. Who, typifying here the solemn rite To which the Bridegroom and his Church invite The good in heaven hereafter, hope to share The glories of his great espousal there — They, when he cometh at the dead of night In triumph with the Spirit and the Bride, I 1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 41 Shall go to meet him, with their odorous light Well trimmed and burning steadily and bright. And entenng in together, side by side. In wedding garments robed of purest white, And crowns of gold, and waving boughs of palm, Sit down among the hosts beatified. Guests at the marriage supper of the Lamb. CHRISTMAS. O, haste the rites of that " auspicious day, . When white-robed altars, wreathed in living green, Adorn the temples," and half hid, half seen, The priest and people emulously pay Glad homage, with the festal chants between ; And aisles and arches echoing back the strain. The sylvan tapestry around is stirred ; And voices sweeter than the song of bird Are resonant within the leafy fane. If, in the fadeless foliage gathered there. Pale nature has so bright an offering. Where all beside is withered, waste, and bare. What lively tribute should our spirits bring To beautify, O Lord, thy holy place of prayer ? SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST. ' The disciple wliom Jesus loved." Gospel for the. O highly favored, unto whom 'twas given To lay thy hand upon the golden keys That ope the empyrean mysteries. And all the bright apocalypse of heaven ! Sweet solace of thy sorrowing soul, when driven Into its island banishment alone. Thy rapturous spirit has been long at rest, Partaker of the glories then foreshown. And knowing even as thy thoughts were known. And if to bide His baptism be the test, And drink the cup peculiarly His own. Then thou hast gained thy mother's fond request, And, stationed near the everlasting throne, Shalt lean once more upon thy Savior's breast. 6 42 MEMOm OF ^VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827. "WINTER. The moon and stars light up their wintry fire ; And kindling with a lustre more intense, As if to quell the frosty influence Which wraps the world in its unstained attire, They draw our spirits heavenward to admire. Nor them alone. For in the marbled sky Ten thousand little snow-white cloudlets lie, In fleecy clusters ranged from east to west, Which meet the toil-worn swain's exalted eye. As when he sees upon tlie upland's breast His own unspotted flock at silent rest, With all their new-bom mountain lambkins by, And to his meditative mind recall The mighty Shepherd tliat o'erlooks them all. Having published the foregoing Sonnets, under the signature of Asaph, in the first volume of the Watchman, he reserved for the last number the following Valedictory, in which he relinquishes the name, and modestly and gracefully lays aside the harp of the chief musician of Israel's minstrel king : — SONNET. VALEDICTORY. Why have I dared to wake the sacred string, Silent for ages, fearing not to hold High harping with that glorious bard of old, The chief musician to the minstrel king ? Alas ! that e'er presumptuous hand should bring Dishonor on that borrowed name, or wrong The leader in the service of the song. Though fain to make his loud shoshannim ring In concert with the consecrated throng, Who in their solemn courses, all life long. Kept Zion's courts resounding with its swell, So faint and fitful are the sounds I fling, My soul recoils lest they profane thy shell ; Farewell, then, hallowed harp ! forever fare thee well ! Asaph. 1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 43 To this Valedictory he received a prompt response from one whose reputation as a poetess is now so well established, and whose name has been so long and so favorably known to the public, that we feel no delicacy in ascribing it to Mrs. L. H. S. : — TO ASAPH, OCCASIONED BY HIS VALEDICTORY SONNET. O, not farewell, deft ruler of the lyre ; Sweet singer of our Israel, not farewell ; Thou early called amid the temple choir, The glad, high praises of our God to swell. Levite and priest, who Zion's anthem led, Had trembled if their solemn string were mute, If the soul's pulse of melody were dead, Or hushed the breathings of Jehovah's lute : Wouldst thou forego the baptism of the skies ? Down at the altar's foot thy censer cast ? Hide in the earth a gift that seraphs prize. Yet '■'■faithful " hope to be pronounced at last '? Minstrel, return ! Resume the hallowed strain ; Repent thee of thy sin, and woo Heaven's harp again. H. To such a call, from such a source, the young bard was not insensible ; nor could he find it in his heart to turn a deaf ear to the sweet strains of the enchantress. Hence the following PALINODE. • Lady, for thee to speak, and be obeyed, Are one." While I, adventurous all too long, retire, Expecting scarcely pardon, much less praise. The unstrung chords what sweeping spirit sways i What sudden murmurings from the abandoned lyre Pass on the breeze, and, as they pass, expire ? O, could my disproportioned powers retain. Forever treasured up, that cherished tone, And blend, yet not abase it, witli my own, Its sweet reproaches had not been in vain ; Yea, could I, kindled with a kindred fire, 44 MEMOm OF AVILLIiUI CROSAVELL. [1827. But hope to catch the echoings of that voice Which bids my harp renew its feeble strain, How would my bounding bosom then rejoice, Nor breathe distrust of God's good gifts again ! Asaph. But these Sonnets constituted only a small portion of his poetical contributions to the columns of the Watchman. A few pieces are selected, which appeared without any signature, but which, from being found in his manuscript collections, are known to be from bis pen. The first of the two following Sonnets was written soon after the ordination of Jacob Oson, a colored man, of middle age and respectable talents, who had been engaged by the Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the Church to enter upon the duties of missionary in Liberia : — Joy to thy savage realms, O Africa 1 A sign is on thee that the great I AM Shall work new wonders in the land of Ham ; And while he tarries for the glorious day To bring again his people, there shall be A remnant left, from Cushan to the sea. And though the Ethiop cannot change his skin. Or bleach the outward stain, he yet shall roll The darkness off that overshades the soul, And wash away the deeper dies of sin. Princes, submissive to the Gospel sway, Shall come from Egypt ; and the Morian's land In holy transport stretch to God its hand : Joy to thy savage realms, O Africa ! But this joyful anticipation was never realized in the person of Mr. Oson ; for after he had received his outfit, and while making his preparations for embarking to the contemplated field of his future labors, he fell into a distressing sickness, which in a few months ter- minated fatally. " By this providential dispensation," says the editor of the Watchman, " the great cause of African improvement is de- prived of a most devoted servant, and the hopes of our society are for the present frustrated ; Mr. Oson being the first missionary they have been al)le to obtain for this service, after years of inquiry. Until a few days before his death, Mr. Oson entertained strong hopes of being able to embark in the brig Liberia ; but finding himself com- pelled to abandon his long and fondly cherished expectations, he 1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 45 calmly resigned himself to the will of God, earnestly praying that other laborers might be raised up, to enter into the field to which he had been looking with so much anxiety." And to this notice he appended the following Sonnet : — Not on the voyage which our hopes had planned Shalt thou go forth, poor exile, o'er the main ; The savage glories of thy fatherland Shall never bless thy aged sight again ; Nor shalt thou toil to loose a heavier chain Than e'er was fastened by the spoiler's hand. And yet the work for which thy bosom yearned Shall never rest, though sin and death detain Messiah from his many-peopled reign, Till all thy captive brethren have returned. But thou hast gained, (O, blest exchange !) instead, A better country, and a heavenly home, Where all the ransomed of the Lord shall come, With everlasting joy upon their head. Still another Sonnet is selected from the first volume of the Watchman, which appears to have been suggested by the death of the Rev. Abiel Carter, rector of Christ Church, Savannah, Georgia : — As some tall column meets its overthrow. And levelled in the dust reclines, at length. In all its graceful symmetry of strength. So manhood, in his middle years, lies low, Singled by death from out the stateliest, While yet he lifts his towering head elate. And feels the firmer for the very weight Of all that in dependence on him rest. Ah, why should we bewail his present fall, Though prostrate now, and basely undertrod. If, at the Master Builder's final call. He stand amid the upright as before, A pillar in the temple of his God, And from his happy station go no more. The next two pieces are of a strictly devotional character : — 46 MEMOIR or WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827. HYilN. When Thou, the vineyard's Visitant, To look on thy degenerate plant, Shalt hither take thy way, And find it green and flourishing, Curse not the unproductive thing. Nor to the dresser say, — " How long shall I, from year to year. Come seeking heavenly frruitage here, And none, alas ! be found ? In vain it rears its leafy crown In barren pomp. Cut, cut it down : Why cumbereth it the ground ? " Lord, listen to my earnest prayer, And yet a little longer spare The blighting of thy frown. But let the gardener prune and dress, And dig around its barrenness. Before thou cut it down. SUNDAY SCHOOL HYIMN. • Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid them not" Savior ! thy precept is not hid. Nor is thy love forgot ; We come, whom thou didst not forbid. And man forbids us not ; To Thee we come, the Guide that brings The erring strays of sin Back from their early wanderings. Thy fold to enter in. To us thy heavenly grace impart, I And let the words of truth , Be inly grafted in our Iieart, And nurtured in our youth ; So shall its strong and thrifty shoots From year to year increase. And, with thy blessing, yield the fruits Of righteousness and peace. 1827.1 EDITOIIIAL EMPLOYMENT. 47 O, with the seed thy sowers sow That timely dew distil By which we may not only know, But love and do thy will. So shall its rooted strength defy The storms of life, and spring, With ever-lifted head, on high, In ceaseless blossoming. Though feeble is our strength and weak, Yet do not thou repress Their near approach who early seek Thy love and holiness. O, hear us, as with one accord Our grateful song we raise ; And out of children's mouths, O Lord, Again perfect thy praise. The following complimentary lines to a lady are shorn, in the manuscript copy, of the last stanza, but are here inserted entire from the Watchman : — TO * * * * Lady ! to whom belong The will and power to roll The tide of music and of song That overflow the soul. The stream has passed away. But left a ^littering store, Deposited in rich array On memory's silent shore, ^ A strand of precious things, Where in confusion lie The wrecks of high imaginings And thoughts that cannot die. O for that voice alone. Whose full, refreshing flow Could on the troubled soul its own Serenity bestow. Why should those streams be mute Which brighten as they roll, Nor in their liquid lapse pollute, But beautify the soul ? 48 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827. O, tranquillize, refine The heart, till it shall be As in its primal day divine, And full of Deity. Among the selections of the present year, three other short pieces may be added. The first was one of his earliest produc- tions, having been written on visiting his parental home, after his first going abroad into the world. It was addressed to his cousin E. S., and afl;erwards published in the Watchman, 1828 : — HOME. I knew my father's chimney top. Though nearer to my heart than eye, And watched the blue smoke reeking up Between me and the winter sky. Wayworn I traced the homeward track My wayward youth had left with joy ; Unchanged in soul I wandered back, A man in years, in heart a boy. I thought upon its cheerful hearth. And cheerful hearts' untainted glee. And felt, of all I'd seen on earth, This was the dearest spot to me. The next was also probably an early production, being founa among his loose manuscripts, without any date : — STANZAS. Yon distant tower of old gray stone, The verdure of the trees, The golden sunlight o'er them thrown — What fairer scene than these ? The organ and the Sabbath bell. Blent like the far-off sea — What tones the raptured heart can swell Up to such ecstasy ? To human sympathies the sight Is dearer far within, 1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 49 When all, on bended knees, unite In penitence for sin ; And heavenlier far the thoughts they raise, When human voices there Swell high the glorious tide of praise, Or breathe the contrite prayer. The following was first published in the Watchman, and after- wards copied into several of the contemporary periodicals : — DRINK, AND AWAY. " There is a beautiful rill in Barbary received into a large basin, which bears a name signifying ' drlnlt, and away,' from the great danger of meeting with rogues and assassins." Or. Shaw. Up, pilgrim and rover! Redouble thy haste, Nor rest thee till over Life's wearisome waste. Ere the wild forest ranger Thy footsteps betray To trouble and danger, O, drink, and aAvay! Here lurks the dark savage By night and by day. To rob and to ravage. Nor scruples to slay. He waits for the slaughter; The blood of his prey Shall stain the still water ; Then drink, and away! With toil though thou languish. The mandate obey; Spur on, though in anguish ; There's death in delay. No bloodhound, want-wasted. Is fiercer than they ; Pass by it untastcd. Or drink, and away! Though sore be the trial. Thy God is thy stay; 7 50 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827- Though deep the denial, Yield not in dismay ; But, rapt in high vision, Look on to the day When the fountains elysian Thy thirst shall allay. Then shall thou forever Enjoy thy repose, Where life's gentle river Eternally flows ; Yea, there shalt thou rest thee Forever and aye. With none to molest thee ; Then drink, and away! One or two short extracts from his correspondence may here be given, to show the current of his views and feelings at this time. They are from letters addressed to a very dear friend, with whom he had been intimate from his boyhood, and who was his classmate in college. The first tells his early impressions of the theatre : "I cannot in conscience regret the loss of the theatrical entertain- ments. I place them foremost among those temptations of the world which I have solemnly and most sincerely renounced, and which, by the grace of God, I shall endeavor to resist to the end of my course." The next shows his faithfulness to his friend, after having alluded to his entering upon the enjoyments of domestic life. He recommends his attention to literary pursuits, and then adds, " That these or any other pursuits should engross our minds, to the neglect of those great and higher duties, from the discharge of which no situation in this life can relieve or release us, may God in mercy forbid. Without intending to sermonize, I cannot conclude, my dear friend, without suggesting, that at no future period of your life can you probably so well prepare for your responsibilities as a religious being as at the present." In the capacity of editor, as in every other occupation in which he engaged, he labored with all diligence and fidelity ; but it must not be disguised that it was not the pursuit of his choice, neithei was it congenial with his taste. It brought him too directly and too constantly before the public. In the course of the year, he felt some misgivings as to the propriety of his remaining in this highly responsible station, and once or twice had half resolved, through the solicitation of his friends in the seminary, and with the entire approbation of his father, to return and finish his course in that institution. But he found it impracticable to break up his connec- tion with the paper without disobliging his friends, and, chiefly on 1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 51 this account, was induced to remain at his post. It was a thankless office, and he soon reahzed all the vexations and tronl)les of which he had been forewarned. He was indeed cheered by the approba- tion of his friends, flattered by the coniniendation of intelligent Chnrclnncn throughout the. country, and encouraged by liberal subscription lists ; but he could not escape the aiuioyance of fault finders and meddlers ; and he was subjected, like all other editors, to the irksome labor of revising manuscripts which, to adopt the language of a correspondent, " he was privileged to puiutudte., cmapital, and ortliogrificatc, it being often deemed quite sufficient for the authors of such favors to communicate their ideas, leaving the editor to work them into decent shape." But a much more serious difficulty lay in his way : the professional duties of his senior necessarily absorbed a large portion of his attention, and hence the principal labor of conducting the paper devolved upon the junior associate ; and this, in addition to the original contributions of his pen, consumed so much of his time, that the systematic pursuit of his theological studies was materially interrupted. He was in the midst of books, and surrounded by clerical counsellors, and warmer friends could nowhere be found. But though gaining a general knowledge of books, and learning something of men, he felt the want of a regular course of preparatory instruction in his antici- pated profession. Still, influenced by the considerations already mentioned, and especially by his personal regard for his friend the professor, who had already won his entire confidence and secuied his warmest aftections, he entered into engagements for another year. It will be seen, however, that this arrangement was soon virtually interrupted by a change of the residence of the senior editor. In the fourth number of the new volume, the unanimous election of Professor Doane as assistant minister of Trinity Church, Boston, was announced ; and having subsequently resigned his pro- fessorship in the college, he removed to Boston. ■ He did not, it is true, entirely relinquish his interest in the paper, but the association was nominally kept up to the end of the volume. 1828. Notwithstanding the arrangement with his friend Doane, the innnediate care and entire responsibility of conducting the Watch- man devolved upon the junior associate. This alone was a severe tax up(m his energies ; but it did not constitute the whole sum of his labors. In the midst of his editorial cares, in the summer and aulunm 52 MEMOIR OF ^^T[LLIAM CROS^^^ELL. [1828. of 18*28, he was called, in the course of providence, to a foretaste of some of those trying scenes to whicli he was to become famil- iarized in the subsequent stages of his professional life. His uncle, Seth Goodwin, Es([., of West Hartford, at whose residence he liad spent many happy days in his boyhood, and for whom he felt a strong attachment, was taken dangerously sick with a malignant fever, and his dwelling had become a scene of great suffering and affliction. He hastened at once to the place, and during the whole period of the long and distressing illness of his uncle, he was unre- mitting in his visits and attentions, frequently making the journey of five miles on foot, sometimes remaining and watching for whole nights, and greatly contributing by his sympathy and condolence to the comfort of the family. The disease terminated fatally, after a period of some sixty days. But the trials of the family did not end here, and this sore affliction was followed by a new series of troubles. Owing to their care, and watching, and anxiety, together with the infectious nature of the disease, all the surviving members of the family were more or less affected, and two of them barely escaped a fatal result. His feelings were deeply interested in these scenes ; and his letters, written almost daily to his parents, bore ample testimony to the kind sympathies of his nature, and gave a sure earnest of his future faithfulness in the discharge of those duties, which, though the most painful, are among the most orna- mental and admirable of a pastor's office. While thus pursuing his course, and long before the expiration of this engagement, circumstances began to transpire which plainly indicated that he was to enter, much sooner than he had anticipated, upon his more appropriate field of labor. The settlement of his friend Doane at Boston led, almost inmiediately, to some overtures for his removal to the same vicinity. As early as October, 1828, he had a conference with his father on the subject, in which such arguments were employed as might be most likely to dissuade him from any hasty engagement to remove. He was told tliat, in gen- eral, it was bad policy for a young preacher to make his debut in a large city, or among very critical hearers. He would naturally feel conscious of his want of strength and skill, and of tlie danger of going forth to battle in armor that he had never proved. He would meet much to discourage and dishearten him, and might remain always in the background, without any success in his min- istry. It was thought much better for the young beginner to go into some quiet and retired spot, and there plume his wings, and try liis strength, and prepare for more venturous flights when he had acquired the knowledge and experience necessary to secure success. These arguments, whether sound or not, probably had their influence at the time ; for, in several subsequent commu- nications to his father, he evidently adopted similar opinions. It 1828.] ORDIXATIOX. 53 was foreseen, however, that his strong attachment to his friend, the hite professor, would bias his mind in favor of his suggestions, and draw him into such new associations as he might propose. But the editorial chair could not be reliiuiuished till the end of the volume, without subjecting the acting editor to censure. It was finally con- cluded, therefore, that he should prepare himself for his remaining examinations, and take deacon's orders as soon as the standing committee should be satisfied of his qualifications. All these pre- liminaries having been complied with, he was ordained deacon, in Trinity Churcii, New Haven, by the Right Rev. Bishop Brownell, on the third Sunday after Epiphany, being the feast of the Conver- sion of St. Paul. This solemn occasion called forth from his pen one of his most admired productions ; — THE ORDINAL. Alas for me could I forget The memory of that day Which fills my waking thoughts, nor yet E'en sleep can take away ; In dreams I still renew the rites Whose strong but mystic chain The spirit to its God unites, And none can part again. How oft, the Bishop's form I see. And hear that thrilling tone Demanding, with authority. The heart for God alone ! Again I kneel as then I knelt. While he above me stands. And seem to feel as then I felt The pressure of his hands. Again the priests, in meek array, As my weak spirit fails. Beside me bend them down to pray Before the chancel rails ; As then, the sacramental host Of God's elect are by, When many a voice its utterance lost, And tears dimmed many an eye. As then they on my vision rose, The vaulted aisles I see. 54 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROS^VELL. [1828. And desk and cushioned book repose In solemn sanctity ; The mitre o'er the marble niche, The broken crook and key, That from a Bishop's tomb shone rich With polished tracery ; * The hangings, the baptismal font, — All, all, save me, unchanged, — The holy table, as was wont. With decency arranged ; The linen cloth, the plate, the cup, Beneath their covering shine, Ere priestly hands are lifted up To bless the bread and wine. The solemn ceremonial past. And I am set apart To serve the Lord, from first to last, With undivided heart. And I have sworn, with pledges dire, Which God and man have heard, To speak the holy truth entire In action and in word. O Thou, who in Tliy holy place Hast set Thine orders three, Grant me, Thy meanest servant, grace To win a good degree ; That so, replenished from above, And in my office tried. Thou mayst be honored, and in love Thy Church be edified. After his ordination, he still remained at his post as editor of the Watchman, until his engagement was finished at the close of the second volume. During this period, and amid his complicated cares, liis poetical talent was constantly exercised. While the char- acter of the paper, as an authentic Church journal and expositor, was well sustained, very few numbers appeared without some devo- tional or other poetry from his pen. From these several pieces are selected, nearly in the order in which they were published. * Referring to the tomb of Bishop Jaevis, whose body reposes tinder the chancel of Trinity Chm-cli. EDITOllIAL EMPLOYMENT. 55 SPRING. Once more thou comest, O delicious spring ! And as thy light and gentle footsteps tread Among earth's glories, desolate and dead, Breathest revival over every thing. Thy genial spirit is abroad to bring The cold and faded into life and bloom, Emblem of that which shall unlock the tomb, And take away the fell destroyer's sting. Therefore thou hast the warmer welcoming : For Nature speaks not of herself alone, But in her resurrection tells our own. As from its grave comes fortli the buried grain, So man's frail body, in corruption sown. In incorniption shall be raised again. HYMN FOK THE FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Great Shepherd of our souls ! O, guide Thy wandering flock to feed In pastures green, and by the side Of stilly waters lead. Do thou our erring footsteps keep. Whose life was given for the sheep. O, let not us, who fain would cleave To thy communion, stray. Nor, tempted into ruin, leave The strait and narrow way : Before us thou the path hast trod. And thou canst lead us. Son of God. O, let us hear thy warning voice, And see thy arm divine ; Thou know'st the people of thy choice, And thou art known of thine. Do thou our errmg footsteps keep, Whose life was given for the sheep. Then when we pass the vale of death, Though more and more its shade 56 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSA^-ELL. [1828. Around our journey darkeneth, We will not be afraid, If thou art with us, and thy rod And staff console us, Son of God. THE MISSIONARY. O, say not that I am unkind To friends so warm and true ; I weep o'er all I leave behind, I sigh to bid adieu. But woe for my eternal lot. If my untiring love For Him who died for me, be not All other things above. Such is the law of Christ, and such The Savior we adore, I could not love you all so much, Did I not love Him more. REVEILLE. Up ! quit thy bower ; 'tis the matin hour ; The bell swings slow in the windowed tower. And prayer and psalm, in the soothing calm. Steal out, by turns, on the air of balm ; And in solemn awe of a morn so still, E'en the small birds sing with a voice less shrill. Up, lady fair ! — 'tis the hour of prayer, — And hie thee forth in the bracing air ; Now bow the knee, while land and sea Repose in their bright tranquillity ; And the sun as pure a lustre throws As the glorious dawn when he first arose. The following is published as a paraphrase from Keble's " Chris tian Year." On comparison, it will be found that it is rather a contraction than a paraphrase of a much longer piece by Keble, entitled Visitation and Communion of the Sick. 1828.1 EDITOIIIAL EMPLOYMENT. 57 COMMUNION OF THE SICK. A simple altar stood beside the bed, ' With plate, and chalice, and fair linen vest, For that communion high and holy spread : We ate and drank, and then, serenely blest. All mourners, one with calmly parting breath, We talked together of the Savior's death. O gentle spirit, from thy sainted rest Look down upon us who must yet remain, With whom thou shared the hallowed cup of grace, And so soon parted ; thou to Christ's embrace. We to the world's drear loneliness again ; Come, and remind us of the heavenly strain We practised as thou passed through Eden's door To be sung on, with angels evermore. SAESTT JAMES THE APOSTLE. When Herod had put forth his hand in hate To vex the Church, and thy heart's blood was poured Beneath the tyrant's persecuting sword, First of the chosen twelve, 'tis said thy fate So wrought on thine accuser, that, o'ercome By thine example, and by grace subdued. He came, with voluntary fortitude, To share the torture of thy martyrdom, And thus pronounce his conscience satisfied. Cheering each other onward, side by side. Together went betrayer and betrayed, And on the self-same block your heads were laid ; And while your blood the self-same scaffold dyed, The self-same faith unshrinkingly displayed. HYilN FOR THE EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY. All grow not on one common stem. But separate and alone. And by its own peculiar fruit The good or ill is known. How blest are they whom grace inclines To bear the grafted good, 8 58 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOS WELL. [1828. So grateful to the longing taste, And delicate for food ! A plant set by the river side, It spreadeth out its roots, And in due season bringeth forth Abundantly its fruits. Its thick and verdant bouglis are like The goodly cedar tree. Whose shadow covereth the hills, Whose branches reach the sea. But God shall dry up from beneath The wicked and unjust ; Their root shall be as rottenness, Their blossoming as dust ; Their grapes are Sodom's grapes of gall, And bitter as their sin ; Their clusters, though all fair without, Are ashes all within. The good shall flourish as the branch Which God for strength hath made ; Its shady and refreshing leaves Shall never fall or fade ; But withered shall the godless be In premature decay, And with a fire unquenchable At last consume away. SOUTH SEA mSSIONARrES. SUGGESTED BY A PASSAGE IN STEWART'S JOURNAL. With pleasure not unmixed with pain, Tiiey find their passage o'er. As, with the Sabbath's dawn, they gain That islet's rocky shore ; Behind them is the sweltry main, The torrid land before. No sound was in the silence heard To break the air of balm. Save when the screaming tropic bird Wheeled seaward in the calm ; The faint and heated breeze scarce stirred The streamers of the palm. 1828.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. The shipman in the distance sees, Across the glowing bay, The crowded, straw-built cottages, Like sunburnt ricks of hay. Beneath the tall banana trees. Bask in the morning ray. And as that self-devoted band Of Christian hearts drew near. No cool and bracing current fanned The lifeless atmosphere. Why should they seek that savage land, So desolate and drear ? In faith, those far-off shores they trod. This humble six or seven. And through those huts of matted sod Shall spread the gospel leaven. Till each becomes a house of God, A mercy gate of heaven. SONNET. "Died, in New York, on Sunday evening last, after a short illness, the Eev. Hbnst J. Feltus, Kector of St. Stephen's Church, aged flfty-three years." Devoted shepherd of thy Savior's flock ! From thy sublime and loved vocation rent, 'Tis joy to know the overwhelming shock Of thy bewept departure shall augment The multitudinous army of the good. And raise thee to that holy brotherhood. " Ashes to ashes, dust to kindred dust," Thy body is committed to the ground ; Thy spirit, with all Christian graces crowned, Such is our certain confidence and trust. Enjoys communion with the sainted just. Long may such servants of the Church abound, • And, from the altars where thy light has stood. Shed burning lustre on the land around ! Another funeral Sonnet is here introduced, and with it a narra- tive which will best explain the occasion on which it was written. J. AsHMUN, Esq., agent of the American Colonization Society, and governor of the colony of Liberia, had found it necessary, in the spring of 1828, on account of extreme ill health, to return to the GO TMEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828. United States, with a hope that the voyage might prove favorable to his recovery. The passage was long and tedious, and his sufter- ings (to adopt his own language) "were nearly indescribable." He arrived at New Haven on the 10th of August, and expired on the 25tl], in full hope and trust in the mercy of God, through his blessed Redeemer. He had the best of medical advisers, who liad ascertained, immediately on his arrival, that his case was hopeless ; and he was surrounded by the kindest and most attentive of friends. He had no relative present during his illness, nor was it known that any one would be able to reach New Haven in time for his funeral. But among hundreds of sympathizing friends, there was one most sincere mourner. This was a little native African boy, of twelve or fourteen years, whom Mr. Ashmun had rescued from a Spanish slave trader, and kept near his person to the close of his life. Much pity was excited for this poor lone mourner, who was exceed- ingly attached to his deliverer and protector ; and though perfectly mute and silent, the big tears were seen rolling down his cheeks as often as any of the speakers, at the funeral, alluded to the character of Mr. Ashmun. But a more thrilling and affecting incident was yet in reserve. In the midst of the solemnities at the church, and just as tlie preacher was about to name his text, a great sensation was observed, and, Mrs. Ashmun, the mother of the deceased, who arrived at that hour in the steamboat, ignorant of his death until her landing, drove up to the door of the church, entered the porch, and threw herself in extreme agony by the side of the bier. It was long before she could so far recover as to take a seat, and attend to the services. BURIAL OF ASHIVIUN. What desolate mourner rushes to the bier, And stays the solemn rites of that sad hour ? O God, sustain her as she draweth near, Support her in the struggles that o'erpower ! It is a childless mother that bows down Beside the coffined corpse, amid the crowd ; It is the ashes of her only son. His living face unseen for many a year : Well may she lift her voice, and weep aloud. The world cannot console her. God alone Hath power to speak to such a sorrowing one, And take her dreadful load of grief away : To man it is not given ; for who can say, In his own single strength, " Thy will be done " .' 1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 61 HYMN. The lilied fields beliokl ; What king- in his array Of purple pall and cloth of gold Shines gorgeously as they? Their pcmp, however gay, Is brief, alas ! as bright ; It lives but for a summer's day. And withers in a night. If God so clothe the soil, And glorify the dust, Why should the slave of daily toil His providence distrust.^ Will He, whose love has nursed The sparrow's brood, do less For those who seek his kingdom first, And with it righteousness ? The birds fly forth at will; They neither plough nor sow : Yet theirs the sheaves that crown the hill. Or glad the vale below. While through the realms of air He guides their trackless way. Will man, in faithlessness, despair.^ Is he worth less than they? MICHAELMAS. Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates ! While, with our brethren of the crystal sky, God's glorious name we laud and magnify. Angels, Archangels, Powers, and Potentates, Dominions, Thrones, and thou, preeminent Among the leaders of the orders bright. Who beat in battle from the starry height Th' apostate spirit down his dread descent. With these. O Michael, the redeemed unite In that triumphant and eternal hymn, Which, passing to each other, Cherubim And Seraphim continually do cry : "Holy, thrice holy, Lord of love and light! All glory be to thee, O God most hiffh ! " MEMOm OF AVILLIAM CRO.SWELL. [1828. THE seat;n churches. How doth each city solitary sit That once was full of people ! Round his path The Christian pilgrim finds remaining yet The fearful records of accomplished wrath. The glory of God's house departed hath ; The golden candlestick cannot emit One glimmering ray, however faint and dim ; There is no consecrated oil to trim Th' extinguished flame whicli once the Spirit lit. Alas ! that he who hath an ear to hear The teaching of that Spirit, can forget These dread fulfilments of prophetic writ, Nor lay them to his stricken heart, in fear Lest he thus hear, and thus abandon it. AFRICA. When shall thy centre opened be ? When shall the veil, that lay Upon that land of mystery So long, be torn away ? When shall the hallowed Cross be seen Far in those sunny tracts, Beyond the lofty mountain screen. And thundering cataracts ? When shall thy daily barks, that bring Rich lading to the sea Of plumes of gorgeous coloring, And choicest ivory, And incense of acacia groves. And costly gems, and grains Of that most valued gold washed down By Abyssinian rains ; — When shall they bear a freightage back More precious than those woods. Whose fragrance fills the Niger's track In seasons of the floods ? When shall each kingdom, that receives The Gospel, learn to prize The treasures hidden in its leaves Above all raercliandise r 1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOl^IENT. m Then bread upon thy waters cast Shall not be cast in vain ; But after many days are past, It shall be found again. Then thy barbaric sons shall sue, Nor nature's self resist. An entrance for their kindred true, The dark Evangelist. SONNET. In the recesses of the western wood, In to its very heart, — by all forgot Save Him who made me, — would it were my lot To bear the burden of its solitude ; And in some wild and unfrequented spot. Sharing the Indian hunter's cabin rude. To lead, in glad return, a willing guide. His humbled spirit to the Crucified ; And in the solemn twilight, hushed and dim, The forest people often gathering. To make the green and pillared arches ring, Not with the war song, but the holy hymn. So might I live, and leave no other trace Where I had made my earthly dwelling-place. CRETE. Ancient of years, the hundred-citied isle ! • Still art thou left a goodly sight to see, To breathe thine air is still a luxury, And " man alone," of all around, " is vile," Viler than e'en thy first-born Caphtorira.* When shalt thou be once more as thou hast been ? When shall thy navied strength resistless swim, And make thee, Britain like, an ocean queen ? When, rising from the dust, shalt thou be seen A nursing mother to the Church again. And when, alas ! another Titus come To rear the fallen Cross, nor reordain In all thy cities priestly men in vain. But leave thy name a praise in Christendom .' * Amos ix. 7. fi-l MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. fl828. GREECE. Upon thy sacred mountain tops, How beautiful, O Greece, The feet of him that publisheth Through all thy borders peace ! Like Paul, his spirit to release Of those high claims he seeks, Which bankrupt all the love we owe As " debtors to the Greeks." A piercing cry from Macedon Rings o'er the ocean still, A cry from Athens, and the shrine Upon its idol-hill. A cry from Corinth and the isles Of loud entreaty speaks : Up, Christians, to your great discharge, As " debtors to the Greeks." SAINT THOMAS. When from tlieir native Palestine The twelve spread far and wide. Alone he went from Salem's shrine On to the Ganges' side. The greensward was his dying bed. And from the crimson sod His blood, Avhich Brahma's cliildren shed, Went reeking up to God. On that foundation, long unsought. For eighteen hundred years, A Middleton and Heber wrought. And their successor rears. The Church for which his blood Avas spilt, How can it be o'erthrown. On Prophets and Apostles built. With Christ the corner stone ? 1828.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. CHRISTMAS. " The glory of Lebanon," &c. Isaiah. The thickly-\v'oven boughs they wreathe Tlirough every liallowed fane, A soft, reviving odor breathe Of summer's gentle reign ; And rich the ray of mild green light Which, like an emerald's glow, Comes struggling through the latticed height Upon the crowds below. O, let the streams of solemn thought, Which in those temples rise. From deeper sources spring than aught Dependent on the skies. Then, though the summer's glow departs, And winter's withering chill Rests on the cheerless woods, our hearts Shall be unchanging still. SAINT STEPHEN. " iVnd all that were in the council," &c. With awful dread his murderers shook. As, radiant and serene. The lustre of his dying look Was like an angel's seen, Or Moses' face of paly light. When down the mount he trod. All glowing from the glorious sight And presence of his God. To us, with all his constancy. Be his rapt vision given. To look above by feith, and see Revealments bright from heaven. And power to speak our triumphs out As our last hour draws near. While neither clouds of fear nor doubt Before our view appear. 9 06 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1828. SAIXT PAUL. The holy saints of old, On God's commission sent, Their high and heavenly station hold Above our measurement ; They shine, each unapproachable, A constellated star. And in their glorious beauty dwell, Companionless, afar. But let us not forget That we are kin to these, Men of like passions, and beset With like infirmities ; Nor will their spirits emulous Our brotherhood contemn ; As erst they have been one with us. We may be one with them. Still round our darkling road Their heavenly light they shed, And guide our feet to their abode, And show Avhere we must tread. Then let the souls whom Christ sets free, Ere yet that light be dim, Be strong, O Paul, to follow thee. As thou hast followed Him. The following lines, as the title indicates, were published in the last number of the Watchman issued in 1828 : — THE DYING YEAR. Hark to tliy last hour's passing knell, A startling sound to hear : Eternally we bid farewell To thee, departing year ! Go join the long-gone centuries, Thy sisters dim and gray ; For soon, with all thy power to please, Thou shalt be dim as they. 1829.1 EDITOKIAT. EMPLOYMENT. 67 'Tis o'er, thy weijrht of weal and woe, And nearer lies the bourn To which though all life's travellers go. No travellers return. O, who can read thy doomsday roll Of days and hours misspent. Nor seek a refuge for his soul From their just punishment ? Finally, at the conclusion of the second volume of the Watchman, his engagement was brought to a close. The two editors jointly resigned their charge in a farewell address, of which the following are among the concluding paragraphs: "The period at which our solemn obligations, as servants of the Lord Jesus Christ, call us, in devoting ourselves exclusively to the work of the ministry, to relinquish the editorial labors and responsibilities, appears to us pregnant with the most eventful intej-est to the Church of our duty and of our love. That the ministrations of her bishops and other clergy have been singularly blessed, we have occasion for fervent thankfulness to God ; and in the increasing disposition, in the whole community of which we are a part, to hear the word at her mouth, we have great encouragement to renew our labors with diligence, and our prayers with confidence. . . . Finally, brethren, fare- well. Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace ; and the God of love and peace be with you all. Amen. 1829. Of the movements which led to the first call of the newly- ordained deacon to a pastoral charge, it is unnecessary to speak at large. Before and after his ordination, he had many kind and pressing invitations to visit Boston ; but besides the constant de- mands upon his time, he had other satisfactory reasons for declining these invitations, and, above all, his extreme reluctance to obtruding himself upon the notice and patronage of his friends. The first official communication on the subject is contained in the following note, received before his ordination: — 68 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1829. Boston, January 11, 1829. Mr, William Croswell, Hartford. Dear Sir : At a meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church, in Boston, holden at their vestry room on the 18th of October, 18Q8, it was voted, that John Rice, Charles Wade, and John Wilson should be a committee to procure an assistant minister to the Rev. Asa Eaton, their rector. As we understand it to be your intention shortly to visit our city, we beg leave to suggest to you, by this communication, that we shall be happy to confer with any gentleman qualified for, and who might desire to avail him- self of such a situation. If, on your arrival, it should be agreeable to you to call on our friend, Mr. Eaton, or on the committee, he, as well as they, will be happy to become acquainted with you, and to confer with you on the subject. With sentiments of respect and esteem. We are, dear sir, your obedient servants, JOHN RICE, Chairman of the Committee. As there was notliing in this communication requiring any very definite reply, he returned a respectful answer, hut deferred the proposed visit until after his ordination. This having taken place, and his editorial labors being brought to a conclusion, he left home for Boston on Wednesday, the 22d of April, 1829. At this time, when a passage fi'om New Haven to Boston, by railroad, is per- formed in less than six hours, it seems almost incredible that the journey, only twenty-three years ago, should have been such a for- midable affair. Taking the stage route by Hartford, the only way then provided, he dates from Providence, R. I., on Friday evening, thus relieving his weariness by a httle stroke of facetiousness : " Being here in a state barely of existence, in the spirit of the imperative mood, which is used for exhorting and entreating, I would beseech all in whom I have any interest to make their entry to Boston by any other approach than that of Providence. The only recommendation it has is, that it will be sure to wear all his .sharp points down. Never, in my born days, have I undergone such a pilgrimage in a stage coach. The coaches are rickety, and the roads rocTccty, beyond all conception. I feel very much as the man in the poem, — ' Seven centuries bounced he from cavern to rock. And his head, as he tumbled, went knickety knock, Like a pebble in Carisbrook well.' " He arrived at Boston on Saturday ; and on the following Sunday, being the first after Easter, he preached for Dr. Eaton, in Christ Church, both morning and afternoon, and performed all the services except the ante-communion. Unexpectedly to him, as well as to the parish generally, Dr. Eaton now resigned the office of rector; and he was invited to supply the pulpit for another Sunday before his return to New 1829.] CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. G9 Haven. On the 13th of May, he received the followinjj official notice of his election to the rectorship : — At a meeting of the proprietors of Clirist Church, held at their vestry room, on Wednesday evening, May 13, 1829, it was unanimously Voted, Tiiat the Rev. William Croswell, of New Haven, Connecticut, be invited to become the rector of this church, at a salary of five hundred dollars per annum ; with the understanding that the salary is to be increased at least one hundred dollars per annum, until it amounts to one thousand dollars. Attest, JOS. W. INGRAHAM, Proprietors^ and Vestry Clerk. After taking time for reflection, and for the consultation of his friends, he returned the following reply : — New Ha'»en, May 21, 1829. Mr. Joseph W. Ingraham. My dear Sir : You are hereby requested and authorized to signify to the proprietors of Christ Church my acceptance of their invitation to assume the rectorship of said church, Avith which I was favored under your hand on Thursday morning last, for such a length of time as shall be mutually agreeable to the parties concerned. I have come to this conclusion with much hesitation and self-distrust ; but relying on the promised sufficiency of God's grace, and the cordial cooperation of the members of the parish, to sustain me in its arduous and responsible duties, I have made my arrange- ments for leaving here next week, and expect, Providence permitting, to be prepared to enter on the service of the parish, on Sunday, the 31st inst., being the first after Ascension. May the blessing of God so rest upon the proposed connection as to make it pleasant and profitable to us all, and acceptable to him. Commending myself to your charitable consideration and prayers, I hope you will believe me to be Your faithful and devoted servant in Christ, WILLIAM CROSWELL. Accordingly, we find this as the first record in his diary: " Sunday, May 31, 1829. Entered into the service of my first par- ish, Christ Church, Boston. In the morning, was with them ' in weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.' Dined with Mr. Clark, senior warden. Attended Sunday school at noon. In the P. M. preached on the Ascension. Afier service, presided in the annual meeting of the Sunday school society for nearly three hours." Having thus entered upon the arduous labors and heavy respon- sibilities of this pastoral charge, it cannot be doubted, from his well- known diffidence and self-distrust, that he experienced all that he expresses of weakness, and fear, and much trembhng. Had he been compelled to rely solely on his own judgment, without coun- sellor or friend, he would have found the weight of his cares alto- gether insupportable. But, providentially, he was not alone. To say nothing of his " next friend and more than brother," there stood by his side his venerated predecessor, ready, with almost paternal 70 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^\^LL, [1829. kindness, to hold up his bands, and to render bim every facility in his power for the commencement of this first stated work of his ministry. Dr. Eaton, by his resignation, bad no intention of throw- ing his young successor into any embarrassment, nor of withdrawing his interest from the parish. The measure was doubtless dictated by self-respect, and by a hearty desire to leave the people of his late charge at liberty to concentrate their energies, and to make a united eifort to sustain and perpetuate the interests of the Church. He introduced the new rector to the members of the flock, as opportunity occurred, and by his sagacious counsel and advice con- tributed much to the mutual benefit of pastor and people. It is pleasant to recur to some of the early sketches of his first impressions of Boston, its institutions, its buildings, and its men. Under date of May, 1829, he says, " Sherman would find a great many things here to interest and entertain him. Boston certainly goes beyond most of our cities in genuine taste, alnd the patronage which it extends to literature and the fine arts. The Athenaeum Gallery of Paintings was opened last Monday ; and although the weather has been unpleasant, more than twenty-five hundred season tickets, at fifty cents each, have been disposed of. There are some beautiful paintings at the present exhibition. There is a large pro- portion of landscapes and small pieces, many of which are exqui- site. . . . The monument at Bunker Hill has been commenced in a most noble style, the base being carried up nearly fifty feet, of huge masses of granite, three feet by six. The work is at present suspended for want of funds ; but the view from the top even now, which you gain by means of a spiral staircase inside, is very com- manding and picturesque. . . . Christ Church is truly a ' sol- emn temple,' and has a fine organ. No man, who has any music in himself, but would be delighted with its chime of bells. Trinity Church, [then in process of building,] for its massive and solid architecture, is far beyond any church that I have ever seen. I have repeatedly come in contact with Dr. Channing, and have ceased to wonder at the prodigious influence which he exerts over his party. His manners are most simple and unobtrusive. The flow of his conversation is sweet, quiet, and placid, and his power of the most fascinating and tranquil kind. He gains a great deal, too, by his grave and solemn complacency, which never relaxes into a smile." Another step in his onward progress was now to be taken. It is thus announced, in a letter to his father of the 22d of June : «' It is deemed so important, at this time, to create confidence in my settlement as a permanent one, that I have acquiesced in the pro- priety of my institution at the same time with my ordination, [as priest,] which is appointed to lake place day after to-morrow." This was accordingly done at the time proposed, being the 24th 1829.] OltDIXATION AND INSTITUTION. 71 of June, the feast of St. John the Baptist ; and his own account of the double soh'nuiity is given in a letter to a cousin, under date of Boston, Monday morning-, June 29, 1829 : " Tlie most solemn trans- action of my whole life took place last Wednesday, when I took upon me the awful responsibilities of the priesthood of the Church of Christ, and was instituted rector of Christ Church. I need not ask the prayers of you all, that grace may be given me to fulfil the obligations then incurred. My hand is put to the plough, with a double pledge; and 1 cannot drawback without drawing back unto perdition. The day was delightfully cool and pleasant, the congre- gation numerous, the service highly impressive ; the bishop's sermon was excellent, and the office perfoimed in a most apostolical man- ner. Yesterday I preached a double sermon, on the ministerial relation and the ministerial responsibilities, from Hebrews xiii. 17 : ' They watch for your souls, as tliey that must give account.' But as the day was unpleasant, the congregation was meagre ; and it is my intention to prepare a discourse of a local nature for next Sun- day. The communion being then administered, I shall have but a single one to write. For the last three Sunday evenings we have had a third service ; and in the present situation of the parish, I consider this measure to be so absolutely necessary to its growth and prosperity, that they will be continued' regularly during the summer. Nor need you be apprehensive that this is to be attended with any over-exertion on my part. The clergy of the city have engaged to supply the pulpit in rotation ; and Mr. Doane will hold himself in readiness to stand in the gap, in case of failure. I was presented by Dr. Eaton at the ordination, and was honored with the attendance of a considerable number of the clergy." From this time he proceeded with his manifold labors, often preaching, notwithstanding his father's admonitions to the contrary, three sermons, besides performing many otiier services, during the day. As early as the 26th of July, he writes, in his playful manner, " I have inflicted three discourses on the patient people of this good city on this blessed day." The morning sermon was preached in Trinity Church, in exchange with his friend Doane, and the other two in his own church, where he had also the additional duty of administering baptism to an adult and an infant, and performing, for the first time, the marriage ceremony. " It leaves me," he says, "very little fatigued. My voice, I find, is constantly gaining in flexibility and compass, and I think I speak with greater ease and clearness at the third service than at any other." In the same letter he speaks with much gratification of his having received fifty dollars from four ladies of his parish, to constitute him a manager for life in the Episcopal Sunday School Uiiion. In some of his subsequent letters he speaks of his intention, as far as practicable, of avoiding the labor of three entire services, in 72 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1829. one day, without assistance ; but on Sunday evening, October 18, he writes, " Though several hours have ehipsed since the exercises of this day of rest were over, I feel no particular sensation of wea- riness or languor. I have read three full services, and preached three discourses, and baptized fourteen children in the afternoon, have entered up my journal, and now hope to get ahead of time by completing my weekly epistle before I sleep." Indeed, the fact is disclosed by his diary and his correspondence, that, during the whole period of his ministry in Christ Church, he seldom or never, either at home or abroad, fell short of his three services on Sunday, besides other occasional duties, and especially the baptism of adidts and children, which occurred on almost every Sunday. He gives the reason for the great amount of this special duty, in a letter to a brother clergyman, who had proposed an exchange. He says in his diary, October 24, " The situation of my parish was so peculiar and interesting, that I considered it an abso- lute duty to be at home. Accordingly, I wrote to Mr. to this effect. I stated the interest which had been created in the parish on the subject of infant baptism, and acquainted him that I had now a list of twenty or thirty cases which required attention imme- diately. I further informed him of the adult cases in a course of preparation, and of my candidates for confirmation, which is very soon to be administered. Baptism has fallen into great disrepute and disparagement here, chiefly, I apprehend, from our close and contagious contact, or rather envelopment, with schismatics and heretics of all classes and descriptions." With regard to the pastoral labors which devolved upon him daily, such as the visitation of the sick, the destitute, and the aftlict- ed, his journal furnishes such details as can probably be found in the experience of few other servants of Christ. It is not intended to transfer these details to these pages. They will be brought viv- idly to view, so far as they are needed to illustrate his character, by the testimonials with which these memoirs will be closed. But even a life thus overloaded with care and labor was not without its bright and sunny spots, and no one was ever capable of enjoying to a greater degree the pleasant and delightful scenes which lay about his path and encompassed all his ways. His high appreciation of the beauties of natural and rural sce- nery was a source of much enjoyment. He thus describes a visit, on a fine October day, to Pine Bank, the residence of his friend DoANE : " I went out about midday. It was the perfection of autumnal weather. The woods were changing most gorgeously. The atmosphere was perfectly transparent, and there was a glory in the sunshine beyond the burning brightness of midsummer. The scenery about my friend's seat is always picturesque and enchanting, and reminds me of those scenes described by Isaac Walton, as ' too 1829.] CHRIST CirUIlCII, BOSTON. 73 pleasant to be looked upon hut only on holidays.' But the aspect under wliich I viewed it to-day gave it new fascinations. We clam- bered up the brow of a hill, on the opposite side of the little blue lake, with its well-wooded and distinctly-defined banks, and its pure and cln-ysohte waters. Thougli we could look afar oft' to the ' stee- pled town and ocean blue,' there was a nearer ' cynosure of neigh- boring eyes,' ' bosomed high in tufted trees,' which captivated our attention to their gay and high-colored draperies. We had before us the beau ideal of poetic rhapsodies, and almost realized that serenity which is to belong to the age of the righteous. The sunset was indescribably beautiful. I returned to town by a rich moon- light, which, struggling with the haziness of autumn, invested every thing with a sort of sleepy magnificence." He also found many a pleasant episode, amid his daily round of duties, in his quiet and discriminating observation of the traits of character in the men witli whom he was brought in con- tact. Having met a celebrated comedian at a pubhc dinner, he throws oft' the following sketch : " , the comedian, was under my eye at table, and was in himself a study. His mind was evi- dently intent on something more than the feast before him. His object was obviously to divert the guests from his track, by an occasional brilliant remark or lively repartee. A frequent abstract- edness of look, and perpetual motion of his lips, betrayed him to the attentive observer. His behavior and deportment were strictly guarded and correct, though his conversation was much courted, and whatever fell from his lips was listened to with expectation and honored with great applause. It evidently costs him severe study to maintain his reputation as a wit, and it seems to be quite a ques- tion whether it does not cost him more than it is worth." The notes of the present year must not be closed without re- cording a still further testimony of his unwillingness to engage in any pursuit which might divert his mind from the great ends of his ministry. He had not been long settled in Boston before a pro- spectus was issued for the publication of a new monthly magazine, to be devoted to the interests of the Church, under the title of The American Christian Observer. The plan met with the favor and approbation of many leading Churchmen in New England and other parts of the country, and several distinguished divines and scholars were ready to pledge themselves to contribute liberally to its pages. But it was found extremely difiicult to procure the ser- vices of a responsible editor, and the office was urged upon the rector of Christ Church. The proposal was resisted from the first to the last ; and the following extract of a letter to his father, November 23, will show his reasons, not only for refusing the edit- orship, but also for an entire abandonment of the whole plan : " At present I am disposed to think it was a happy providence which 10 74 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^^'ELL. . [1829. placed me here, and I desire no other situation. I do not, however, intend to encumber myself with any unnecessary fetters ; and on this account, I fed. distrustful about embarking- in the American Christian Observer. It is so lately that I have been ground down by this species of servitude, and the release has given such an elas- ticity to my spirits, that I can hardly reconcile myself to bringing my neck again under the yoke. I never fail to tell my Hartford friends that it is perfect felicity and bliss, in comparison to the two long years of bondage which I spent with them. There are other reasons . " . • to warrant us, I think, in the abandonment of the whole design." The following Hymn, written and published in the Watchman some two years before, is inserted here, as it was now brought forward, adapted to music, and sung in Christ Church on the even- ing of the first Sunday in Advent. The general and immemorial usage in Massachusetts sanctioned these musical additions to the prescribed Church service. H\\MN FOR ADATINT. While the darkness yet hovers, The harbinger star Peers through and discovers The dawn from afar; To many an aching And watch-wearied eye, The dayspring is breaking Once more from on high. With lamps trimmed and burning, The Church on her way To meet thy returning, O bright King of day ! Goes forth and rejoices. Exulting and free. And sends from all voices Hosannas to thee. She casts off her sorrows. To rise and to shine With the lustre she borrows, O Savior ! from thine. Look down, for thine honor, O Lord! and increase In thy mercy upon her The blessing of peace. 1829.] CHRIST CHURCH. 75 Her children with trembling • ^ Await, but not fear, Till the time of assembling Before thee draws near; When, freed from all sadness,, And sorrow, and pain. They shall meet thee in gladness And glory again. The Hymn which follows, " from the Latin of St. Ambrose," first appeared in the Watchman, and is found in his manuscript collec- tions. The piece next below the Hymn was written at about this period, and subsequently appeared in the Banner. HY^IN FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER. Creator Spirit ! come and bless us ; Let thy love and fear possess us ; With thy graces meek and lowly Purify our spirits wholly. Paraclete, the name thou bearest, Gift of God the choicest, dearest, Love, and fire, and fountain living. Spiritual unction giving. Shower thy benedictions seven From thy majesty in heaven. Be the Savior's word unbroken, Let thy many tongues be spoken ; In our sense thy light be glowing, Through our souls thy love be flowing ; Cause the carnal heart to perish. But the strength of virtue cherish, Till, each enemy repelling. And thy peace around us dwelling, We, beneath thy guidance glorious, Stand o'er every ill victorious. THE BROOK KEDRON. "He went over the brook Kcdron with his disciplea." Saint John. The Vale of thy Brook, of Life's valley so drear, Meet emblem, dark Kedron, might be. As it swelled in its hurried and horrid career To the depths of a desolate sea : Unceasingly fed with the blood of the slain From the Temple's far height was its flow, 76 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830. Till it seemed like some wounded and wandering vein That was lost in the distance below. There David went over, and wept as Ee went ; There his Son in his sorrow passed o'er, And his garments were dipped in its crimson descent. Like a warrior's, wading in gore ; And, wrapped in forebodings of anguish and woe, It heightened that vision of pain, When the blood of a mightier Victim should flow, And the Lamb of the promise be slain. Now, Kedron, for ages thy course has been dried, And thy sands are unmarked with a stain, Since the Victim ordained from eternity died, And the Lamb of the promise was slain ; The pilgrim now passes dry-shod o'er thy bed, And the thought to his spirit may lay. He who drank of the brook hath relifted his head, And hath borne our transgressions away ! 1830. Early in 1830, a plan for altering the chancel arrangements of Christ Church, which had been agitated during the preceding autumn, began to take a definite shape ; and the proprietors of the church, at a meeting called for the purpose, appointed the rector and wardens to take measures for raising, by subscription, the requi- site means, and for carrying the project into effect. The subscrip- tions being filled, the church was closed after the 14th of March ; and such was the delay in completing the new arrangements, that it was not reopened for divine service until the 6th of .Tune. But this caused no remission of the duties of the rector. The regular services were held, through the kindness and courtesy of the ma- sonic fraternity, in their hall, wliich afforded very suitable accom- modations; and, either there or in some of the neighboring churches, he continued, three times on every Sunday, to supply the pulpit or the reading desk. Nor were liis pastoral labors in the slightest degree diminished. Tlie affairs of the parish were becoming daily more and more prosperous, and the calls fin- special duties were constantly increasing. For reasons already given, the baptism, as well of adults as children, constituted a large portion of these duties; and in noting the baptism of the first-born son of his friend and brother Doane, on the 17th of October, he incidentally remark'- 1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. 77 " It makes the ninety-ninth baptism I have administered since I liave been in Christ Church." There is a pecuhar pleasure in inserting here his well-merited testimony to the worth of a gentleman now nniversally known in the Church as an early, ardent, and zealous advocate of the cause of missions — the Hon. E. A. Newton, of Pittsfield, Mass. On the 15th of .Tanuary, he accompanied this gentleman and his brother DoANE to a neighboring parish, for the purjiose of organizing an association auxiliary to the General Missionary Society. After giving an account of the religious exercises of the evening, he says, " Mr. Newton made an eloquent address to the congregation explan- atory of the object of the visit, and requesting an expression of their approbation of the designs of the society." In writing to his father, he adds, " Mr. Newton is one of nature's own noblemen, a Christian, a Ciiurchman, and a gentleman. He was long in India, and knew Middleton, and Heber, and Corrie, and all the other famous missionary men in those parts. His spirit there first kindled up with a zeal for the cause ; and with the highest ardor and decis- ion of character, he unites the firmest and most uncompromisinsf attachment to the distinctive principles of the Church." We now come to a scrap of personal history, which it is the more desirable to preserve, as it may possibly constitute nearly all the ancestral lore which the Croswell family may find it prac- ticable to collect. In the autumn of 1829, the rector of Christ Church had discovered, by a singular accident, that there was a person residing in Boston bearing his own name. This person had taken one of his letters from the post office, and had broken the seal, before he discovered that it was addressed to the Rev. Williaivi Croswell. He immediately sent it by a mutual friend to its proper address, apologizing for the mistake, and requesting an interview. After some delay, which is sufficiently explained in the following- correspondence, this interview finally took place. The following note, from the elder Williajvi Croswell, is written in a remarka- bly formal round hand, rather stift', but neat and well defined, and much resembling the old style of copperplate writing copies : — Boston, October 23, 1899. Sir : Some weeks past, N. G. Snelling, Esq., informed me that you and he intended to visit me together. I was not then so well as usual. My health is now better ; and it will be agreeable to my sister and myself to receive a visit when you think proper. I am, sir, yours, JVIr. Croswell. W. CROSWELL. "The following," says the rector, in his diary, January 18, "is a copy of a note addressed to my venerable cognomiual, William Croswell, of Bedford Street : — 78 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1830. Dear Sir : I hope my neglect to acknowledge your kind favor of October last will not be misconstrued. It was received just as I was on the point of leaving town, and in my absence it was accidentally mislaid. If it be not too late, however, to avail myself of the privilege then offered, I shall be happy to wait upon you on Wednesday morning, in company with our mutual friend, Mr. Snelling. In my academical days, my attention was arrested by your work on the mathematics, in such a way as almost to make me for the moment distrust my own identity ; and I have been exceedingly desirous of making your acquaintance ever since I knew of your residence in the city. I am not so familiar with our table of consanguinity as I could desire ; but I make no doubt, from the coincidence of our names, that the data furnished by an interview would authorize me to subscribe myself your kinsman, as well as Your respectful friend and namesake, WILLIAM CROSWELL. Winthrop Place. Boston, Tuesday, January 19, 1830. Sir : As my hearing is somewhat impaired, there was a strange mistake respecting your billet. It will be agreeable to my sister and myself to receive a visit to-morrow morning. I am, sir, yours, Mr. Croswell. " W. CROSWELL. Of this interview the description is exceedingly graphic, and, without douht, perfectly accurate to the letter. '■'■Wednesday , Janu- ary 20. At half past ten, waited on Mr. Snelling, who was to accompany me to my relative in Bedford Street. I was ushered into an upper room, betraying evident marks of poverty, but with some beautiful specimens of penmanship garnishing the walls, and Croswell's View of the Starry Heavens on a large map of Mer- cator's projection. My old prototype stood before me, nearly as tall as myself, but much dilapidated, poorly clad, and his shoes down at tlie heels. There seems to have been a premature break- ing up of the system, as he is but little turned of sixty years. The few hairs that are left upon his head are white, but showed no dis- position to crisp ; but all the other characteristics of the species are decisively developed, and in his sister, who is younger than himself, are still more distinctly marked. There is the high forehead, the long nose, the gray eyes, and the longitude of thumb. There is the low voice, and, above all, in the male kind, the peevish and irritable temper which we all have to struggle with. The old gen- tleman was in a disordered frame of mind ; but he promised, at some future time, to give me a detailed account of what he knew about us. I gathered, however, some interesting particulars before I left them. The first of our stock, Thomas Croswell, came from Staftordshire, in England, during the usurpation of the Round- heads. Being detected in some scrape, he fled on board a ship bound for tliis country, and settled in Charlestown. He married Priscilla Upham, a woman of eminent piety, by whom he had one son,.]osEPH, and seven daughters. He acquired a handsome estate, and maintained a fair and reputable character. His son Joseph 1830.] FAMILY REMINIftCEXC'ES. 79 married Abigail, daughter of Andrew Stimpson, of Cliarlestown, by whom he had five sons, Thomas, Andrew, Caleb, Benjamin, and Joseph. Andrew was liberally educated, and settled as a Congregationalist in this city. William and his sister are his chil- dren. They showed me his portrait, rather the worse for wear, but a very good painting notwithstanding. It was taken when he was forty years of age, and is said to have been a likeness. According to this, he was a full-faced man, with a sparkling gray eye, a respec- table nose, and a pleasant expression about the mouth. A printed account (which I was told, however, was not to be entirely relied on) states of the other brothers that ' Caleb died while at Cam- bridge University; Thomas and Benjamin were mechanics. Thomas settled and died in South Carolina. Benjamin settled and died in Groton, Connecticut.' Our grandfather may have been his son. Of .Joseph, the youngest, born March 12, (O. S.,) 1712, I was presented with a memorial, with this title : ' Sketches of the life, and extracts from the journals and other writings, of the late Joseph Croswell, who, for more than forty years, was an itinerant preacher in the New England States, and who died at Bridgewater, Massa- chusetts, May, 1799, in the 8Sth year of his age.' ' He was pre- paring,' says his biographer, ' for an university education, in which he made laudable progress. But such was his diffidence of him- self, that he declined the public education for which he had become quahfied, and served an apprenticeship to a (horresco referms !^ ' — a baker.' The old gentleman says it should be, a barber. He became a merchant, failed, was thrust into prison, ' but though unfortunate, did not incur the guilt of dishonesty.' He was con- verted instantaneously, in his thirty-first year, at Groton, Conn., ' on Friday, the 26th of 3Iarch, about half an hour after two o'clock, P. M.' ' Before that time, he had been habitually under alarming and serious impressions, which were at times exceedingly strong and distressing. But all was not sufficient to control a naturally impetuous and irascible temper.'' He was one of the most conspicu- ous of the new lights, rode probably three thousand miles a year, and preached as many sermons per annum. He was a most extrav- agant and fanatical ranter, but his papers show a great deal of talent and imagination. I meet with this entry in his diary for ' May 3, 1776. As I was journeying from Boston, stopped in Charlestown, and took a survey of Prospect Hill,' (a delightful eminence between this and Cambridge, with a windmill on the top of it,) 'formerly owned by my father, and the place of my nativity. Viewed the mansion house, which I found turned into a sort of garrison,' &c. He had a son and daughter. The son was in the army, and signed, it is said, the commission under which the first armed vessel acted against (ireat Britain, in behalf of the Plymouth peojjle. I will procure a copy of this book, to be laid up in tiie archives, and 80 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830. perhaps it may help to account for preaching three times a day coming so natural. The old lady showed me a little silver cup of her grandfather's. She said that the Croswells all had a restless propensity, were all born with a pen in their hands, that but few of them had talents for making or keeping money, but that all she knew or had heard of bore very respectable characters." * On the first return of the anniversary of his admission to dea- con's orders, he is found thus pouring out, in his private journal, and at the same time in a letter to his father, the feehngs of a heart deeply imbued with a sense of the sacredness of his calling : " Monday, January 25. This is the anniversary of St. Paul's con- version, and also (' Alas for me, if I forget ! ') the anniversary of my being set apart for the ministrv of the church of God. The year has been full of incident, and marked with the most solemn transactions of my whole life. I believe I did not put my hand to this work without realizing, in some sense, the momentous relations and awful responsibilities of those who watch for souls as they that must give account, nor without a clear conviction of the duty and privilege of assuming these relations and responsibilities. I would put down nothing on this subject for effect, or in a spirit of vainglory ; but I desire to record my testimony, that this holy calling, if diligently and faithfully undertaken and devotedly fol- lowed, is the path of life, which, for our own happiness, we should choose and covet, and contains all the elements of the purest and highest enjoyment which the corruption and infirmity of our nature admit. I have always refrained, on principle, from making a dis- play of my private religious feelings on paper, lest I should thereby be tempted to give way to the movings of spiritual pride and self- righteousness ; and I dare not trust myself to speak of the satis- faction and delight which he cannot but feel whose duty and whose glory it is to preach Christ crucified, and wiio would direct every thought, wish, and desire to the work of subduing evil and saving souls. I have been deliberately reviewing the principles laid down in my first discourse on this subject ; and though, alas ! no man living can be justified by that standard, I am confirmed by my short experience in the opinion, that the views which I then took are those only which are autliorized by the Scriptures of truth." Price Lectures. These lectures were founded on the last will and testament of Mr. William Price, a respectable book and print seller in Boston, and a devoted Churchman, who, in the year 1770, bequeathed an estate, in trust, for certain purposes, the prin- cipal of which was the support of a course of sermons to be preached * William Choswell died on tlie 7th. of July, 1834. 1830.J CHRIST CHURCH. 81 annually in Lent ; for which purpose sixteen pounds sterhng were every year to be appropriated. The subjects of these lectures, eight in number, the days on which, and the persons by whom they were to be preached, are minutely specified in the will.* The preachers, at this time, were the rector and assistant minis- ter of Trinity Church, and the rector of Christ Church ; the place, Trinity Church. The will directs, with ciiaracteristic benevolence, that after each lecture there shall be made a contribution for the poor, into which, at each time, five shillings sterling shall be put by the church wardens ; the whole proceeds to be divided, on Good Friday, between the ministers and wardens of the parishes interested in the lectures, for the use of the poor. The second and sixth of the series, the present year, were allotted to the rector of Christ Church. The first of these was on the Miracles of Christ : John vii. 31. " When Christ cometh, will he do more miracles than these which this man hath done ? " He says, in a letter to his father, " My idea was, to cluster the miracles in such a way as to present a most striking aspect, and to make the inference from them to the truth of Christianity, and the divinity of the Savior, most direct and irresistible." So well did he succeed in this object, that he was afterwards told that a Unitarian minister, who was present, made several remarks, which, he adds, " were quite too flattering for my modesty to transfer to paper." The other lecture was on Con- tentment : 1 Timothy vi. 6. " Godliness with contentment is great gain." In the month of April, he made a short visit to Connecticut, * The following is au extract: "And I hereby clu-ect that the said eight annual Sermons be preached on the following subjects, viz. : 1st, Sermon on Ash "Wednesday, (the service to begin about three o'clock in the afternoon,) upon the duty, usefulness, and propriety of fasting and abstinence, or upon Repentance, or Faith, or Hope, or Charity, or Chi-istian Morality. The 2d. Sermon on the second "Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock before noon ; the Sermon to be against Atheism, or Infidelity, or in defence of the Divinity, or Miracles, of om- "blessed Saviour. The 3d. Sei-mon on the third Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon; the subject, the Catholic Church, or the Excellency of the Christian Religion. The 4th Sennon on the fourth Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the Sennon to be a Vindication of the Church of England, as to Government, Doctrine, or Dis- cipline, or a discourse against Heresy or Schism, Enthusiasm or H}i)ocrisy, or on the duty of Obedience to Kmgs and lawful authority, fi-om all persons professing Christianity. The oth Sermon on the fifth We"dnesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, against Error and Superstition, particularly those of the Church of Rome. The sixth Sermon on the sixth ^^'ednesday in liCnt, at Eleven o'clock, in the forenoon, on Detraction or Restitution, or on Contentment and Resignation, or on preparation for Death. The 7th Sermon on the seventh Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, pn Baptism, or Coiafession, or Absolution, or on the Duty of PubUc ^\'orship. The 8th Sermon on Good Friday, at three o'clock in "the afternoon, on the Passion and Death of Ckrist, or "of the nature, necessity, and advantages of the Holv Communion." 11 8:2 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830. leaving Boston on the ITth, and returning on the 29th. His visits homeward were always full of enjoyment, as he was ever ready to testify. But in the present case, it afforded him but little relaxa- tion of his labors. On each of the two Sundays included in the time, he took the entire service of the church in Stratford. He also preached on a Wednesday evening in New Haven, and, on the 22d, was present and read morning prayer at the consecration of St. Paul's Chapel. On the week preceding the reopening of Christ Church, he ac- companied the bishop, with a few of the clergy, to Leicester, some fifty miles from Boston, to preach at the institution of the Rev. Lot Jones, and to participate in the other services of the day. In speaking of these services, he pays the following Avell-deserved trib- ute to Mr. Jones : " He is one of the most faithful and devoted sons of the Church now living. In this little parish, which stands all alone by itself in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, he has made his influence radiate in every direction. It was a day I shall never forget, as one of the days of the right hand of the Most High. He has been there a year, and has already baptized twenty-nine adults, some in the church and some in the living stream. His communion has grown from nine to sixty. Thirty- three persons were confirmed." Mr. Jones yet lives to do the Church good service, having been transferred to a missionary sta- tion in the city of New York, where he has fully sustained the character here ascribed to him. On Trinity Sunday, June 6, Christ Church was reopened for divine service ; and the rector not only bore the whole burden of the day, but, in the evening, rode to South Boston with the Rev. Mr. CoiT, where he had appointed a missionary lecture, and read prayers for the third time. On his return, he wrote his weekly epistle to his father. The day was unpleasant; but the assemblage was large, and every thing conspired to excite the deepest interest on the part of the congregation. The following original Hymn, prepared by the rector for the occasion, was performed by the choir with fine effect : — Awake, O Arm divine ! Awake, Eye of the Only Wise ! For Zion and the Temple's sake, Savior and God, arise ! So shall our hour of gloom be o'er, And we, a happy throng, Wake in her hallowed aisles once more The breath of sacred song. 1830.] CHRIST CIILTRCII. To thee we'll lift our grateful voice, To thee our offerings bring, And with a glowing heart rejoice To hail thee God and King. God of our fathers ! still be ours ; Thy gates Avide open set, And fortify the ancient towers Where thou with them hast met. Thy guardian fire, thy guiding cloud, Still let them gild our wall, Nor be our foes nor thine allowed To see us faint and fall. The worship of the glorious past Swell on from age to age. And be, while time itself shall last, Our children's heritage. August 15 is recorded in his diary as " a most delightful and solemn day," the Right Rev. Bishop Grisvv^old having administered confirmation in Christ Church to thirty-nine persons, and, he adds, "none of them children." The month of September is marked by the announcement of two most afflictive dispensations. On Sunday, the 5th, a report was received of the death of the Rev. Dr. Gardiner, rector of Trinity Church, in England, whither he had gone for the benefit of his health ; and before the grief produced by this event had scarcely had time to subside, it was followed by another, — the death of the Right Rev. Bishop Hobart, — still more distressing, inas- much as it was less expected, and the deceased was overtaken in the midst of the active duties of his office. The following letter will tell how deeply the visitation aftected the heart of the writer : — "Boston, Monday Morninr/, September 20, 1830. " My dear Father : The death of Bishop Hobart has made us all desolate and heart-broken. It has thrown a gloom over our minds with which I had thought nothing but the sundering of some dear domestic tie could have overwhelmed me. Though letter after letter from New York had been gradually extinguishing our hopes, the fatal announcement burst upon us, after all, like a thunderbolt, and I sat down and wept like a child. I have renewed my grief day by day, as the papers of the city disclose some new testimony of the universal mourning and woe with which this calamity has filled all sorts smd conditions of men. Their columns are occu- pied with the tributes of aftection and veneration for his memory, and show how properly that inestimable loss is appreciated. But 84 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830. we sorrow not, blessed be God, as those without hope. He died as he had hved, and as every Christian bishop would desire to die. The full account of his last moments, from Dr. Rudd, exhibits a glorious triumph of that religion which carried him faithful to the very death. He has fought a good fight, he has finished his course, he has kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for him a crown of life. We may bless God's holy name for one more servant departed this life in his faith and fear, and beseech him to give us grace so to follow his good example, that with him we may be par- takers of his heavenly kingdom. Mr. Doank preached a most eloquent and effective sermon on the occasion, in the morning. I exchanged with him in the afternoon, and preached on Hebrews xiii. 14 : ' For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.' After alluding to the death of Dr. Gardiner, I went on to say, ' While we have not yet recovered from the stunning stroke of a dispensation which so tremblingly teaches u§ how frail and uncertain is the tenure of our citizenship here, a still more recent calamity calls upon us to renew our lamentations with the whole united Church of God in this land, over the bereavement of one of its most faithful guides and distinguished ornaments. Of all the eminent servants of God whom a season of unusual mortality has summoned to their reward, the death of the Right Rev. Bishop HoBART, of New York, in the midst of his indefatigable and abun- dant labors, is calculated to call forth our deepest sympathy, and to overwhelm us with feelings of the most acute and poignant sorrow. We can form no estimate of that incalculable loss. The reputation of his name, the splendor of his talents, the purity of his life, the sanctity of his oflice, the eminence of his station, and the conse- crated lustre of his whole public career, have inspired respect and veneration wherever they were known. But many can tell how these feelings were lost in the still deeper emotion of affection and love, as intercourse taught them the charity of his heart, the sweet- ness of his disposition, the amenity and simplicity of his manners, and the delights of his intimate conversation. In him the genius of true Christianity might be seen at once reflected ; and he has left us a model of spiritual exaltation without pride, and of elevated piety without austerity, which no age can destroy. Alas ! for our sakes, that even for him there is here no continuing city. He now lives only in the memory and hearts of his survivors, who have this day assembled by thousands to muse on his illustrious example, and to kindle the flames of a vital and energetic piety at the ashes which are yet scarcely cold. His sun was in its meridian power, and its warmth most genial, when it was suddenly eclipsed forever. He fell as the standard bearer of the Cross should ever wish to fall, by no lingering decay, but in the firmness and vigor of his age, and in the very act of combat and of triumph. His Master came sud- 1830.] CHRIST CIIURCII. 95 clenly, and found liim faitlifnl in his charge, and waiting for his a[)|)earing. He was tliat faithful and wise steward whom his Lord had made ruler over his household, to give them their portion of meat in due season. And O, blessed, eternally blessed, is that servant whom his Lord, when he came, found watching. His eye had not waxed dim, nor had his natural force abated ; and death, after no long suffering, has removed him from a life of the most intense labor and anxiety to the repose and blessedness of heaven. He has put off his earthly mitre for the crown incorruptible. He has laid aside his sacerdotal robes for the pure, unblemished mar- riage garment. He hears the inexpressive nuptial song. With his loins girt, and his lamp burning, he has gained an entrance where the Bridegroom and His friends passed to bliss in the mid hour of niglit, happy in having entirely devoted his great powers to the vast spiritual interests over which he presided; happy in being the min- ister of salvation to ages yet unborn ; happy in having established a name before which all the future generations of the land shall rise up and call it blessed. . . . It is in such awful spectacles of mortality, that we see how frail and uncertain our own condi- tion is, and read most emphatically the admonition, " Be ye also ready." ' O, pray, my dear fother, that it may not be lost upon us. Do not make any public use of this extract. I send it merely because my heart is full of the subject, and I know it is one on which we can mingle our warmest sympathies together. " Our centennial celebration was very imposing indeed ; but my feelings were out of harmony with it, and I thought of Xerxes, as he looked at his great army, or of that plaintive call of the herald at those celebrations in Greece which took place every hundred years, ' Come to the solemnities which no living eye hath seen, and which no living eye can see again.' " It should be borne in mind, that when these sentiments were penned, it was more than twenty years before the writer's decease, and when he was in the very freshness and vigor of early manhood. The labor of life Avas all before him, and a brief experience was all that he had to foreshadow his future cares and responsibilities. But he wrote as he felt ; and when he saw before him the bright example of the sainted Hobart, it was but natural that he should indulge some faint and trembling hope that he might be permitted to follow, though at humble distance, in the luminous footsteps of such a leader. How far this hope was ever realized, those can best judge who saw him, at the close of life, called away to his reward in a manner even more sudden and striking, in the very field of labor, and clad in all his armor. In the month of October, while contemplating a visit homeward, 86 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CliOSWELL. [1830. in addressing his mother, he affects to " transcribe a verse or two out of a popular poem book." Not being aware of the existence of sucli a book, the verses are inserted without attempting to decide whether they are or are not original. O, when shall I be restored To the place that is kept for me Around the hearth, and around the board, In my father's family ? When shall my mother's eye My coming footsteps greet With a look of days gone by, Tender and gravely sweet ? I know, when the prayer is said, That for me warm bosoms yearn, For me fond tears are shed ! O, when shall I return ? On Monday, the 27th of December, he writes as follows : " I have had as happy a Christmas as is consistent with the perform- ance of five successive services, and the effects of the clouds and darkness which are round about it. On the whole, I do not know that I ever felt more comfortably on a Monday morning than at this present writing ; and the successful discharge of the arduous but delightful duties of the week have relieved my mind of a great weight, and put me in quite a delectable frame." After giving s^me account of his several sermons, on Christmas Eve and the two succeeding days, he speaks of having prepared two Hymns for the occasion, which were sung to appropriate music in his own and two other churches in Boston. Of these Hymns, the following, from the Episcopal Watchman of January 1, is the first, and the other will be found on page 65, of this work. 1. Glad tidings waft once more. Angels, who hymned of yore Messiah's birth ; Sing, voices of the sky, As in those times gone by, Glory to God on high, Peace on the earth ! 1880.] CHRIST CHURCH. 87 2. O bright and burning star, Be not from us afar, Distant nor dim ; Lead our frail feet aright, Silent, but shining light. As on that hallowed night, Guide us to Him. 3. Give thou tliy people grace, Savior ! who seek thy face This favored day. Incense and odors sweet • May not thy coming greet. But hearts are at thy feet ; Turn not away. For in thy blessed shrine Each garland we intwine Incense shall breathe. As each before thee lies. Emblem of souls that rise Heavenwards, where never dies Thy fadeless wreath. The following lines are found among his manuscripts, under date of 1830, but have probably never been published. They refer to the weathercock on the spire of the place of worship at the North End, Boston, then occupied by a Unitarian society. OLD NORTH COCK. Roosted upon his ancient ball. Last night, sat the Old North cock. In the midst of a terrible north-east squall Which made the steeples rock. And waked the watchmen, one and all, As the bell tolled twelve o'clock. With head erect and unruffled form, The hearty and tough old cock. Through wind and rain, and cold and warm, 88 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [183L All weathers continues to mock ; And he whisked him round to face the storm, And breasted himself to the shock. O image of triple guilt,* quoth I, I should very much like to know If you have a bit of reason why, While all these changelings here below, Like Peter of old, their Lord deny, You never was known to crow. Whist ! whist ! quoth chanticleer, you're slow ; How could I crow so fast, sir, As these my fickle friends below. And each misguiding pastor, And the Priestly f men who teach them ?o. Deny their Lord and Master ? 1831. The record of this year is not remarkahly full. In his diary there is a large hiatus, extending from the middle of .Tanuary to the beginning of October ; and during the remainder of the time, the entries are little else than brief sketches of his daily duties and services. But the deficiency is in some measure su|3plied by his correspondence ; and although, for reasons already stated, it would be improper to draw largely upon this correspondence, it may, nevertheless, furnish many facts, incidents, and reflections, as aids in conducting the narrative. January 2, he writes, that, after having performed his customary round of three full services, he finds himself able to sit down and prepare a Hymn for the Howard Benevolent Society. Of this Hymn the following copy is taken from a manuscript collection : — Lord, lead the way the Savior went. By lane and cell obscure. And let love's treasure still be spent, Like His, upon the poor ; Like Him, through scenes of deep distress Who bore the world's sad weight, We, in their crowded loneliness. Would seek the desolate. t An obvious pun on the name of the great ai^ostle of Unitarianism. 1831.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 89 For Thou hast placod us side by side, In this wide world of ill ; And, that thy followers may be tried, The poor are with us still. Mean are all offerings we can make; Yet Thou hast taught us, Lord, If given for the Savior's sake. They lose not their reward. Anionj;^ the occurrences of the year, the commencement of a new Church periodical in Boston may be here noted. The plan of a monthly magazine having been previously relinquished, a number «)f clergymen and laymen of the diocese conferred together, from time to time, on the expediency of establishing a weekly paper, to be afforded at a low price, for the purpose of securing an extensive circulation, and thus promoting the interests of the Church. After some ineffectual attempts to secure the services of an editor, the two friends consented, though evidently with much reluctance, to undertake the work themselves. Under this arrangement, the first number was issued, by Messrs, Stimpson and Clapp, on the 3d of September. It was a neat little "folio of four pages," entitled The Banner of the Church. The contents, in prose and verse, were chiefly original, and were generally contributed by one or the other of the two friends. Some of the poetical productions of the junior editor had been previously published ; but others appeared for the first time in the Banner. From both of these sources a few speci- mens may be gathered. Of those transferred from other publica- tions, the following may be deemed peculiarly worthy of preser- vation, though the writer speaks of it to his father in the language of apology. It was called forth by the death of Colonel Putnam, a most highly esteemed and venerable member of the Church in Brooklyn, Conn., and was transmitted to the daughter of the de- ceased, the late Mrs. Sumner, of Hartfiird, with the following apologetic note : " The melancholy subject on which I wrote you last has pressed much upon my mind since ; so much so, that it has been one cause, perhaps, of unfitting me for doing better justice to your honored father's memory. I have waited for leisure to do better ; but this has been denied me, and, as I now foresee, must be denied me for a long time to come. After so much unseasona- ble delay, 1 submit this hasty eft'usion (for such it truly is) to your disposal with fear and trembling. But however I may have failed, I know you will appreciate my motives." 12 90 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831. ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED SERVANT OF GOD. "Fortunate Senex." I was in spirit with the crowd Who stood around thy bier, When grief, though deep, was yet not loud, As each in turn drew near. And, mutely bending, o'er and o'er Fond kindred lips were pressed Upon thy placid brow, before They laid thee to thy rest. No stain upon thy clear renown, Descended from the brave, Brought thy gray hairs with sorrow down, Tried veteran ! to the grave ; We saw thee hastening, calm and sage, On to thy perfect day, And, in thy green and good old age, Serenely fade away. Peace to thy patriarchal dust ! From yon old solemn shrine Breaks forth a tone of loftiest trust That better things are thine ; Thy light shone ever there to bless, And on thy hoary head. Found in the way of righteousness, A crown of glory shed. Nursed in her aisles, and truly taught By her to live and die, Our grief finds refuge in the thought That there thou still art nigh ; It treasures there a precious store For sweet and soothing calm. To read thy favorite prayers, and pour The same victorious psalm. Thus shall thy memory be a spell Of strong but silent power, Within the church thou lov'dst so well. And round thy household bower ; Yea, every spot is sanctified. Amid this vale of tears. Where thou, for heaven, hast laid aside The burden of thy years. 1831 CHRIST CHURCH. 91 The following is one of liis earlier productions, and was first published in the Watchman, in 1827, and copied into several papers^. It was now republished in the Banner, under the author's own revision. CLOUDS. " Cloud land I gorgeous land 1 " Cole ridoe • I cannot look above, and see Yon high-piled, pillowy mass Of evening clouds, so swimmingly In gold and purple pass, And think not, Lord, how Thou wast seen On Israel's desert way. Before them, in thy shadowy screen, Pavilioned all the day ; — Or of those robes of gorgeous hue Which the Redeemer wore. When, ravished from his followers' view, Aloft his flight he bore ; When, lifted as on mighty wing. He curtained his ascent. And, wrapped in clouds, went triumphing Above the firmament. Is it a trail of that same pall Of many-colored dyes That high above, o'ermantling all. Hangs midway down the skies ? Or borders of those sweeping folds Which shall be all unfurled About the Savior, when he holds His judgment on the world ? For in like manner as he went — My soul, hast thou forgot ? — Shall be his terrible descent. When man expecteth not. Strength, Son of man ! against that hour. Be to our spirits given, When Thou shalt come again, with power, Upon the clouds of heaven. 92 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831. The following has probably never appeared, except in the Banner. A NIGHT THOUGHT.* Pet lilies of your kind, Effeminate and pale. That shiver in the autumn wind, Like reeds before the gale, Ye have not toiled or spun. As sister lilies might, Nor are ye wise as Solomon, Though sumptuous to the sight. O fair, and well arrayed ! And are ye they to whom The world is under tribute laid For finery and perfume ? And have ye no delight. Nought else that may avail, To weather that eternal night, When these expedients fail ? This also was among his first contributions to the Banner : — CHARITY HYMN. " Freely ye have received, freely give." Thou who on earth didst sympathize With mortal care and fear. And all the frail and fleshly ties That man to man endear, The sorrower's prayer, the sufferer's sighs Still reach Thy gracious ear. Though, pierced by many a pang below. The heart may sorely ache, Touched with a feeling of our woe, A bond no time can break, Thou wilt not leave us, Lord ! we know Thou never wilt forsake. * See Young, Night Second, lines 232-263. 1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 93 Freely Thou givest, and tliy word Is freely to impart ; And oft as from that law we've erred With unfraternal heart, The deeper let us now be stirred To be, even as Thou art. With the opening of the Banner, the editors commenced a series of papers, under the title of The Christian Year, (suggested by Keble's work,) which was kept up, with very little interruption, to the end of the volume. The pieces which constituted this series were partly in prose and partly in verse, some selected and some original, while others were contractions or variations of some of the longer pieces of Keble. They were all designed to explain and illustrate the services of the Sundays and holy days of the Church throughout the year. The few poetical productions here selected are found among the manuscript collections of the junior editor. SAINT ANDREW'S DAY. O Savior, for whose blessed sake Saint Andrew left his all, Beside the Galilean lake, As soon as Thou didst call ; Grant us, thy servants, later born. That grace which led thee first To bear the cross of shame and scorn. And to endure the worst. While skiif, and net, and hempen coil, The tackle and the oar. Remind us of their patient toil. The fisher's part who bore, O, teach us what our work must be, Their fellowship to win, Who follow them and follow thee, In holy discipline. And let no follower come alone, But each his kindred bring. As Andrew did, to see and own On" common Lord and Kinor ; 94 MEJilOIR OF WILLIAM CROSVVELL. [1831. To count, like him, all gain but loss, To tread temptation down, And, through the triumph of the cross. Secure a glorious crown. HYMN FOR SAINT MATTHEW'S DAY. "And as Jesus passed forth, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the receipt of custom, and he saith unto him. Follow me ; and he arose and followed him." Gospel for the Day. By Babel's piles, how heavenly fair To see God's light dispel, With beams divine, the stifled air Of Mammon's gloomiest cell ! It cheers tlie soul that even there Our holy faith may dwell, And thrive amid the dreary glare Of this world's citadel. There still the Savior makes his call. Drowned though the accents be ; O " Lord, make Matthews of us all," To rise and follow thee ; To leave whate'er we prize as gold ; Our treasure and our heart Transfer, where we may safe behold Earth and her idols part Thus, as our feet through labyrinths glide, O, let thy voice sublime Be heard above the stunning tide Of human care and crime ; And as our busy task is plied By dusky lane and mart, Its unction ever there abide Like music in the heart. I 1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 95 LAST SUNDAY IN ADVENT. " Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, Rejoice. The Lord is { hand." Epistle for the Day. Now gird your patient loins again, Your wasting torches trim ; The Chief of all the sons of men — Who will not welcome him ? Rejoice ! the hour is near ; at length The Journeyer on his way Comes in the greatness of his strength To keep his holy day. With cheerful hymns and garlands sweet, Along his wintry road, Conduct him to his green retreat. His sheltered, safe abode ; Fill all his courts with sacred songs, And from the temple wall Wave verdure o'er the joyful throngs That crowd his festival. And still more greenly in the mind Store up the hopes sublime Which then were born for all mankind, " So blessed was the time ; " And underneath these hallowed eaves A " Savior will be born " In every heart that him receives On his triumphal morn. THE EPIPHANY. " And when tli^ y had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts i gold, and frankincense, and myrrh." Gospel for the Day. We come not with a costly store, O Lord ! like them of old, The masters of the starry lore. From Ophir's shores of gold ; No weepings of the incense tree Are with the gifts we bring, Nor odorous myrrh of Araby Blends with our ofFerinsr. 96 ilEMOIR OF WILLIAM CKOSWELL. [183L But still our love would bring its best : A spirit keenly tried By fierce affliction's fiery test, And seven times purified ; The fragrant graces of the mind, The virtues that delight To give their perfume out, will find Acceptance in thy sight. SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY. " This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifeste forth his glory, and his disciples believed on him." Oospel for the Day. O humblest and happiest bridal of earth ! O Cana of Galilee, blest With the sanction of Christ for thine innocent mirth, Thou first saw his glory confessed ! A glory enlivening the festival board. Increasing its generous store. And cheering the hearts that in wonder adored, Till the cup of their gladness ran o'er. And who will unbless what the Savior has blest ? What being of arrogant mould Will dare at the bridal where He is a guest, The cup of his favor withhold ? And why are thy bounties, O Master ! disdained, When thy smile so indulgent will be. If with conscience unwounded, and spirit unstained. They remind us of Cana and Thee ? QTJINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY. Poor, and desolate, and blind. Like the wayside wanderer, we, Savior ! by thy grace inclined. Fain would guide our steps to thee. 'Mid the tumult of mankind, Still in love thou passest by ; Still let those who seek thee find ; Hear our never-ceasing cry. 1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 97 Darkly throiigli our glass we see ; Shadows wVap our loveliest day ; Lovelier will the vision be When the scales shall fall away. Savior, though a tenfold night O'er the outward sense should roll, Brighter let thy cloudless light Shine forever in tlie soul. SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT. Thou who, for forty days and nights, o'ermastered all the might Of Satan, and the fiercest pangs of famished appetite, — O Savior ! leave us not alone to wrestle with our sin, But aid us in these holy hours of solemn discipline. Let not the tempter tempt us. Lord, beyond our strength to bear, Though, in the desert of our woe, he wildly shrieks, " Despair ! " Let not our humble confidence be in thy promise stirred. Nor clouds of dark distrust spring up between us and thy word. Nor let us yet be lifted up by him, the prince of air. To scale presumption's dizzy height, and left to perish there ; Nor on the temple's pinnacle, in our self-righteous pride, Be set for thee to frown upon, and demons to deride. And O, Avhen pleasure, power, and pomp around our vision swim, And, through the soft, enchanting mist, he bids us worship him. Assist us from the revelling sense the sorcerer's spell to break, And tread the arch apostate down. Redeemer ! for thy sake. From his correspondence of this year, some allusions may be gath- ered witli regard to an incident, the memory of which is recalled with peculiar interest and unmingled satisfaction, as furnishing pleasing evidence of his disinterested kindness, and his natural disposition to encourage the opening indications of genius and merit. He received letters of introduction, by the hand of George Whiting Flagg, a young artist of New Haven, who was on a visit to iiis uncle, the late Washington Allston, the celebrated historical painter, then residing and pursuing his profession at Cambridge. Flagg was at this time scarcely fifteen years of age, but he had already made commendable progress in portrait painting. From his very eiiildliood, indeed, his passion for the art was entirely uncontrollable, and absorbed all his energies. Sketching and drawing took precedence of every other pursuit ; and long before 13 98 ISIEMOIR OF AYILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831. he became a proficient in penmanship or any other branch of schoolboy learning, he was wont to portray the imagery of his thoughts on canvas. His first interview, and its results, are thus announced, under date of August 14 : " He vvon my heart at first sight ; and, operated upon by his irresistible grace, I went straight- way down to his rooms to sit for my portrait. It is the first call that he has had for this purpose ; and as he wishes to have his rep- utation rest upon it, he is taking great pains with it, and I think will make an excellent likeness. He has two little fancy pieces at the AthenfBum exhibition, which opens to-morrow. I have intro- duced him to several of my friends, who are professed patrons of the fine arts, and who will give him all encouragement. His pas- sion for his pencil is marvellous ; and I know not whether most to admire the maturity of his conceptions or the rapidity of his execu- tion. I think he is quite an offset to my little musical prodigy. I have brought them together. Flagg was delighted with her per- formance ; and we have made arrangements for her to sit for a little cabinet piece, which he will execute in his best style." On the 21st of August he again writes : " Flagg confines me pretty closely with his portrait, but has now nearly completed it. It is exceedingly well done, and is said to be a likeness. As he has hardly received any notice from other quarters, I have been a good deal occupied in cari-ying him about the suburbs. His child- like simplicity and genuine devotion to his art make him a delight- ful companion, and I hope he will continue as unsophisticated from his acquaintance with the world. He enjoyed our visits to Pine Bank and Naiiant rarely, and kept me clambering up and down the ledges, at the latter place, all the while we were there, though one of the warmest days of the season. He has in hand a small cabi- net piece, for which my ' little correspondent ' was the sitter, and which he considers as the best thing he has done. This is for me, and will be a beautiful picture." Again, on the 28th, he writes : " Little Flagg has finished my picture, which is a better performance than any, he thinks, that he has ever befi»re executed. I have been the means of filling his hands with business, and he is very grateful for the attention which he has received from me. ... In the mean time, he improves very rapidly, and, when known, will be nuich noticed and caressed. He is indeed a delightful boy." Thus was it his pleasure to introduce this young and devoted artist, who was yet in his mere boyhood, to friends, to favor, and to patronage ; and he had the gratification of knowing, in after years, that his confidence had not been misplaced ; that the talents and genius of his youthful friend had not been overrated ; and that his highest anticipations had all been realized. G. W. Flagg was soon distinguished in his art, while confined chiefly to portraits ; and 1831.] CHRIST CllUliCII. 99 having afterwards turned liis attention more particularly to histori- cal painting", he has ])roduced a variety of pieces vvliich place liim in a high position in this branch of his art, and will secure him an enviable reputation among the men of genius of tlie present age. It may be well to introduce in this place a brief notice of the child whose picture Flagg was engaged in painting, and of whom her pastor speaks in the preceding extracts as his " little musical prodigy," and as his " little correspondent." This child, from a very early age, had manifested an extraordinary devotion of sjjirit, a remarkable tenderness of conscience, and an ardent love of religion and of the services of the Church. Her taste for music had been much cultivated at the age of eight or nine years, and she had acquired an ease and readiness in epistolary composition seldom or never witnessed in so young a person. Her indications of early piety had induced an over-fond relative to suggest, and rather urge, the propriety of her admission at once to confirmation and the holy conmiunion. From this course, however, she was easily dissuaded by her fiiithful friend and pastor. But though she delayed to a more appropriate season the outward and public pro- fession of her faith, she never neglected for a moment the regular and systematic exercise of her religious duties. The following letter, addressed to this child, and copied by permission, will serve to show as well her pastor's high appreciation of her character, as his remarkable faculty of adapting his instructions to ever)^ class and age, from the tender lambs to the mature members of his flock. It is a gratification to add, that the child of this period is now, and has been for several years, a most worthy, intelligent, and exem- plary member of the holy communion of the Church. "Boston, May 4, 1831. " My dear little Friend : You may be sure that I shall love the notes you write, as well as the notes you sing ; and I do not know how I could love them better. You may be sure, too, tha* if you try to be good, God will assist you to be so. The arms of the same kind and gracious Savior who once took up the little children, put His hands upon them and blessed them, will ever be open to receive all of the same tender age. O, love that blessed Being as you have ever loved your dearest friends ; for He has loved you even more than they, and has given Himself for you, that where He now is, there you may hereafter be also. Pray to Him, that you may ever continue His own dutiful claild, pure, peaceable, gentle, and easy to be entreated. So will your heavenly songs ever delight His ear. So will you sing in His temple above, with the little ones who sung of old in His temple below, ' Hosanna to the Sou of David ! ' 100 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831. " I have many things to say to you, my dear child, which I can- not write even with a ' silver pen.' ' It may be better told,' as one of the holiest of men says, 'when I come unto you; for the daugh- ter of the voice is better than the son of ink, and it is a good time when a man speaketh face to face with his friend.' " God bless you and your little sister, and all whom you most love. Your affectionate friend, "WILLIAM CROSWELL. To the same child he addressed the following stanzas on her eighth birthday, September 5, 18 — : — Steeped in the soft September light, What mellowing hues array The forward view! — so pure and bright Be all thy life's long day ; A dewy lustre thus be shed, A sweet and soothing calm Swim in thine eye, and o'er thy head Fall on thy soul like balm. May Heaven preserve each dainty tress From all that would destroy. As, in thy playful restlessness. They seem to share thy joy ; Good angels shelter from all ills The fast-maturing grace, That with a saddening sweetness fills Thy penseroso face. Oft as I turn from year to year, And days of absence roll, I'll bind thy vision, made more dear By memory, to my soul ; I'll pray that lie by whom 'twas won Will keep thy minstrel boon, A singing heart, in unison With every darling tune. The following letter, in answer to an invitation to officiate at the anniversary of the Ladies' Bible Societies, in Boston, expresses, in brief but plain and decided terms, the sentiments generally held by the Church on the subject of associations constituted in confor- mity with the policy of the American Bible Society. 1831.] CmilST CHURCH. 101 " Dear Madam : While I readilj acknowledge the honor intend- ed me hy the ladies of the Female Bible Society, I throw myself upon their most candid construction, in declining to attend their anniversary on the Gth proximo. " With regard to the duty and privilege of aiding in the circulation of that 'glorious gospel of the blessed God' with which his Church has ever been inseparably connected, I am happy to believe there is no difference of opinion among Protestants. But in this, as in all our attempts to do good, regard must be had to the means, as well as to the end ; and it was an early lesson of my childhood, which has strengthened into conviction with my strength, and been fortified by the opinion of a long line of saintly men, from the Reformation to the present day, that the indiscriminate and promis- cuous union, for religious purposes, of the maintainers of every opposite sentiment, only serves to encourage and perpetuate error. Painful, therefore, a.^ the duty is, I feel that I could not, in any case, be justified in shrinking to bear my testimony, insignificant as it may be, against the practice. " Trusting that my motives will be considered in their true light, I beg you to believe that I am, with every sentiment of respect and esteem M the intentions of the society, your friend and servant in the faitli, WILLIAM CROSWELL." A few further extracts from his diary and letters will close the record of the present year. These are the terms in which he recommences his diary on the 4th of October. The passage is inserted to show with what untiring energy and perseverance he devoted every moment of his time to duties, either voluntarily assumed or devolving upon him in the regular pursuit of his calling. " After so long an interval, I again resume my journal, with the determination, in dependence on divine grace, not to intermit a day again, so long as God shall please to spare me ability. The press of duty upon me never was, and probably never will be, greater than at this moment. The care of a laborious and difficult parish, expecting religious services thrice on the Lord's day, with much attention in the course of the week ; the superintendence of a weekly periodical, small indeed, but on that account the more select ; the secretaryship of several societies, requiring an unusual amount of correspondence ; together with all my own private let- ters, and the numberless and nameless vexations attendant upon all, leave me but little of that leisure which my nature and tempera- ment make so luxurious. But there is a rest remaining for the {)eople of God. May it be mine at last." It is sufficient to say of this journal, for the remainder of the year, that what is here compressed into a brief compass is but a foreshadowing of the minute details which make up the daily 102 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CR0SWT5LL. [1831. record. Amitl his severe and nianifiild labors, however, he seldom complains of fatiaiii prayed and preached this afternoon and evening. All this citnies .after a \'ery toilsome week. I have seen more dead and dying within a short time, in our parish, than during all the rest of my ministry. There are, at this moment, several cases of severe sickness, arising not so much from the prevalence of any single disease, as from this critical season of the year, which brings so many lingering cases to a fatal conclusion. We find, of course, that as is the life, so generally is the death. It is delightful to visit the sick beds of those who have passed an exemplary Christian course, and have, while in health, made their peace with God — whose loins are girt, and whose lamps are burning. I have been called to communicate their situation to several who have been far gone in consumption ; and I have had much evidence of the diffi- culty of making persons with that complaint realize their bodily condition, much more their spiritual." The same letter contains a brief, but just, tribute to one of the most distinguished of our departed bishops : " Mightily have I been confirmed and refreshed over the volumes of Ravenscroft. That saintly man was truly a burning and a shining light; and would have been, in the most glorious eras of the Church." In a letter, dated on Easter Monday, he mentions the fact, that, including the Sundays, he had, in the course of the week preceding, preached seven times, and read twelve entire services, besides dis- charging considerable other parochial duty; and yet, he says, "I thank God, I have got safely through with it." Agreeably to the practice of the • governors of Massachusetts, who have commonly appointed the anilual fast during the festive season of the Church, and on a day never recognized as a fasting day, the appointment, the present year, was on the Thursday after Easter. The following extract from a letter of Sunday evening after Easter, will show how it was observed by the rector and congregation of Christ Church: "The neighboring clock has just struck eleven ; and the ancient and quiet watchman, who patroles this well-ordered part of the town, has signified that ' all's well.' Deep sleep hath fallen upon all, apparently, roimd about ; but I feel so fresh and wakeful, that I have no inclination to follow their example ; and I have little doubt that I should rest the better when I have one the less duty to discharge. By keeping out of my study as much as possible, I have com|)letely recruited myself since my last ; though I have not been able to get through the week without preaching, on Tuesday evening at South Boston, and again on the day of the annual fast. But though I submitted to this last ordi- nance of man for the Lord's sake, I studiously avoided the recog- nition of it as a day of humiliation. 1 gave all the services the character which belongs to the festal season ; for I could not con- sent to put our little flock out of harmony with the holy Cliurch 104 MEMOIR OF ^TLLLIAM CROS^VELL. [1831. throug;liout the world, to accommodate the narrow-minded preju- dices of the founders of the Bay State." His next letter gives the details of a frightful stage accident, which occurred on his passage from Lowell to Boston. The stage, after a long run, was upset in Charlestown, and nearly demolished ; but though there were nine inside passengers, including four ladies, and two small children, and four outside, none of them were seriously injured. "An hour afterwards," he says, "I could not, and do not now, realize as I ought the immediate peril to which I have been exposed, and the marvellous deliverance which has been wrought out for me." On the 25th he writes, "You will see by the pa})ers the cir- cumstances of brother Doane's institution, [as Rector of Trinity Church.] It was a most solemn transaction, and affected me deeply. I had not entirely recovered from the agitation of my escape ; and I have not been so overcome by my feelings at any solemnity of the kind since my own ordination." On the 6th of June, speaking of the approaching session of the diocesan Convention, he says, " I shall have an encouraging paro- chial report to present. The baptisms alone exceed seventy, ten or twelve of whom are adults." In the same letter, he describes a certain irregular proceeding in a neighboring church ; a portion of which is selected, not so much for the purpose of casting reproaches upon others, as of showing his own extreme, but laudable sensi- tiveness, on the subject of the order and discipline of the Church : " We have had a beautiful performance at , which may, per- haps, surprise you; but here we are surprised at notliing from that quarter. I allude to the manner in which thought proper to advance the cause of prisoii discipline, by breaking through all those rules which regulate discipline ecclesiastical. .Tust conceive, for a moment, of 's successor stepping into tiie desk, in a thin undress, reading a chapter, setting aside ' common prayer ' as a sealed book and a dead letter, and breaking out extemporaneously into those 'jmcommon,' and until lately ' M«known strains,' with which the Congregational houses resound. I should have expected to have seen something ivhite on such an occasion, if it were but the sjnrits of confessors and martyrs reproachfully flitting through the gloom, or to have heard the very beams crying out from the wall." The following extract is illustrative of some of the most inter- esting traits in his character. It is found in a letter addressed to his brother, to whom he had presented a book for his religious edification : " No man can read it, with a desire to be instructed, and not feel his principles of piety invigorated and confirmed, and his mind refreshed. I hope you will study it with attention and singleness of heart, not so much for my sake as for the object with which it was written, the attainment of a religious character. It will 1831.] CIIUI8T CHURCH. J05 teach you how to lead a lioly and happy life here, and, by adorning the doctrine of God your Savior in all things, to grow in meetness for a state of acceptance and perfect bliss hereafter. It is now the critical and turning period of your life. It is the time of your grealest blessings and your greatest dangers. The evil days have not yet drawn nigh, and sinful habits have not become inveterate. Young men exhort to be sober minded. You are so, I believe, in the main, and, I trust, not far from the kingdom of God. Seek it first, seek it early, and you shall find it. There is nothing, of course, about which I can feel so much solicitude, as that ours may be a household fearing God, and partakers of the like precious faith together ; that we may be bound more and more in love, now our little company is so much broken down ; that considering how we are united to the future world by a portion of ourselves' already gone thither, we may live as heirs of the same glorious inheritance, and continue throughout eternity with those to whom we have been so tenderly related, a family in heaven, not one of us being lost, in that day when our Lord maketh up his jewels. . . . Our religion was not intended to make us dismal or wretched, but to make us cheerful within the limits of becoming mirth. Its happy title is, the promise of the life that now is, and of that wliich is to come." It might be deemed hardly justifiable to draw such a letter as the following, addressed to his cousin Elizabeth Sherman, from the privacy of domestic custody, were it not accompanied by a subsequent letter, in which he explains, and apologizes for, the sportive and playful styre which many might suppose inconsistent with the gravity and dignity of his profession : — "Boston, June 27, 1831. "My DEAR Cousin : Though time is scarce, I cannot spare you any longer. I dare say, you take it very unkind that I have neg- lected to answer your last letter so long. I know you consider yourself but as an indiflferent scribe, and, because I have taken to writing for good and all, think I might write to you a great deal oftencr. Another thing which I dare say you think is, that I ought to be thinking of coming back, as it does not look well for young people to be away too long from their own relations, who must, in the nature of things, care most about them. I dare say, you are not the only one in the house that keeps a-thinking so. I think myself that it is possible you are more than half right, and will not gainsay it. " Trust me, cousin Bess, Full many a day my memory has played The creditor with me on your account, And made me shame to think that I should owe 14 106 MEMOm OF WILLLUI CROSWELL. [1831. So long the debt of kindness. But in truth, Like Christian on his pilgrimage, I bear So heavy a pack of business, that albeit I toil on mainly in one twelve hours' race, Time leaves me distanced. Loath indeed were I That for a moment you should lay to me Unkind neglect. Mine, cousin, is a heart That smokes not. Yet methinks there should be some Who know how warm it beats. I'm no sworn friend Of half an hour, as apt to leave as love. Mine are no mushroom feelings, that spring up At once, without a seed, and take no root, Wiseliest distrusted. In a narrow sphere, The little circle of domestic life, I would be known and loved. The world beyond Is not for me. And, Bessy, sure I think That you should know me well, for you and I Grew up together ; and when we look back Upon old times, our recollections paint The same familiar faces . . . and so on . . . " I dare say you are all delighted witli whatever I have told you delights me. I dare say you think it is all very fine and very grand, and so forth ; but still, if I don't write to you very often, and I don't come home very often, I dare say you will still begin to have a little half-wondering kind of doubt on the subject of my remembering. To tell the truth honestly, I should be, if I ivere you, a little, if it were but a httle, jealous, lest these fine things and fine jjeople should put you all out of my head, even when you are too just to suspect any thing of the kind. Lack-a-daisy ! if you knew how often I have a sort of sailor-boy's dream in the broad daylight, and think what a store of dehght awaits me when I can get home again, and tell you the histories, omitted in my letters, ' of all 1 have seen.' To think of the bustle in anticipation ! mother, travelling from the attic downwards, smoothing down bed quilts, setting chairs at the precise angle of precision, putting the contents of drawers in order, wiping for the twentieth time every scrap of furniture, dusting things per- fectly free from dust, and stepping into the kitchen to give Hetty directions ab^ut puddings and pies, watching the rumbling of every vehicle, and, when the Genuine one does come, what a meeting; what a greeting, what peals of salutation from every direction ! I dare not read over what I have written, lest I should decide to burn, instead of mailing it." But turn now to his apology. Writing again to his cousin within a few months, he says, " I should be sorry to have you, or any that 1831.] cimisT c'liriicji. 107 I hold dear at home, form any estimate from my letters of the anxiety and interest which I feel npon subjects to which I appear sometimes inconsiderately to allude. You know that my duties here are severe, and that I cannot but be constantly and closely brought in contact with scenes of distress and affliction. When I sit down, after the fatigue of parochial cares, I am fain to seek relaxation and relief by diverting my attention with correspondence and society ; and if, in conversing with my absent friends, I appear to indulge in levity and trifling, inconsistent with my solemn rela- tions and responsibilities, it is because I know that I am dealing with those in whose minds no misconstruction can arise. I write of course, therefore, only for the ears of the family; and I feel that it would always have been well, if my letters had been destroyed as soon as they had been perused." The following passage, selected from a letter of the 9th of Octo- ber, is a pleasing specimen of his easy and graceful manner of recording the daily transactions of his life : " The last week has been busy as usual. If I had been able to have been at nine places at once, I suppose I should have been wanted in them all. But it is good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth ; and I find that every duty brings its own peculiar pleasure. I accompanied Mr. Clark * to Lexington on Friday, to the desolate house of his ancestors. The day was cold, the season in its sere and yellow leaf, and every thing as rueful as need to be. The old gentleman could not but have considered it as probably his final visit, though he is still in good health and spirits. I saw the monument to the first victims of ' British tyranny and oppression,' and read the inscription (poor as it is) with something of a thrill at my elbows." Early in the month of October, his brother Sherman removed from New Haven, and became jointly concerned with his cousin, Edwin Croswell, in the Albany Argus. From two letters, ad- dressed to him at Albany, the following passages are selected : " October 10. Father writes sadly enough about ' this severing of the members of our family,' and of its tendency ' to weaken the strong attachment for the spot where they were reared.' We must counteract this by strengthening and multiplying our lines of com- munication, and binding ourselves as strong as may be in the bonds of ink and paper." " December 4. I have been reading with great, though melancholy gratification, the Memoir and Remains of the late Edmund D. Griffin. You will find a short expression of my views and feelings in the last Banner. My acquaintance with him was but slight ; but my appreciation of his character was always * Thomas Clauk, Esq., senior warden of Christ Church. A melancholy interest is imparted to this extract from the circumstance of Mr. Clakk's death, which took place on the 29th of Tklay of the foUoAving year. 108 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831. very high. I saw him last in the pulpit, and the circumstance invests his image in my memory with solemn and beautiful associa- tions. The coincidence between his age and my own has served to deepen the impression which the perusal, under any circumstances, cannot fail to produce, and gives freshness and awe to the warning, ' Let your loins also be girt about, and your lamps burning, and ye yourselves as men that wait for their Lord.' " The last letter, of the present year, from which any extracts can be made, is addressed to his father, under date of November 7 : " This is my birthday, and I hope its beauty and brightness are pledges and earnests of many more such to come. Life is wearing away at a round rate, and I ought to be a wiser and better man than I am. I have not entered upon a new year without many solemn resolutions for the future improvement of time, some of which, by the blessing of God, I trust I shall be enabled to keep. I need not ask your prayers that I may be enabled to do so, for I know that I have them always." In the same letter, he thus expresses his strong solicitude and Christian sympathy for a beloved cousin, who was, at the time, withering away under the ravages of a pulmonary consumption : " I am sorry for poor John. Assure him of my love and sympathy, and that I shall not fail to bear him on my mind and in my prayers. I hope he will not long remain a stranger to the covenant of prom- ises in the gospel. What can sustain us in our hour of distress but its consolations ? Our afflictions are sanctified to us, if they con- vince us of our sins, if they make us realize our wretchedness, if they melt down our hearts, if they wean us from the world, and turn our anxious thoughts to a Savior. Then let him cast himself upon God's mercy through Christ, and endeavor, in dependence upon the Spirit of grace, to live a life of faith in the Son of God. Joy, and peace, and all the fruits of the Spirit will follow ; for him that Cometh with such a disposition of mind. He has assured us He will in no wise cast out." After the decease of this young man, which occurred within a short period, he addressed the following letter of condolence to his sister : " On an occasion like this, it is my vocation to be, like Barnabas, a ' son of consolation,' and it would be mockery if I did not follow the deepest impulses of my feelings. The intelligence of cousin John's death, under any circumstances, could not but have deeply affected me ; and prepared as I thought myself at any moment to hear it, I found that it was still so unexpected, that it greatly shocked me. I cannot but reproach myself that I had not expressed the strong desire and anticipation that I had of seeing him once more on this side of the grave. If I could have had an idea that his departure was so shortly to have been accomplished, it would certainly have hastened my return. I was ever sincerel" 1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 109 attached to liim, and believe that our regard was mutual, and would gladly have given you occasion to feel and say, 'Behold, how he loved him ! ' . • . But though absent in body, rest assured, dear cousin, that I am with you in spirit. I bear you in my mind, and in my daily prayers to that divine Being who is touched with a feeling of our mortal woe. He is still with his followers, of whom it Avas truly said, ' If thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.' The same blessed promise of comfort with which he once stayed the bier, still bids the mourners ' weep not ; ' and though the young man do not now immediately sit up and speak, yet it is but a little while, and 'your brother shall rise again.' Rely upon this gracious assurance, and implore the aid of his blessed Spirit, to support, to soothe, and to sanctify. And as our little company is one by one broken down, let us who survive be bound more and more in love together. May we endeavor to devote our future lives more entirely to the service of our Redeemer. As friend after friend departs, may our affections be carried forward with them beyond the world, and may we live as becomes those who are heirs of the same immortality. So may we all at last attain to the bless- edness of the redeemed, of which we have such good hope that your brother, by the merits of Christ, has become a partaker ; not one of us all being lost in that day ' when the Lord uiaketh up his jewels.' . . . Wherefore, comfort one another, and especially your widowed mother, with these words ; and let us commend our- selves and each other to God, and to the good word of his grace, which is able to build us up, and to give us an inheritance among all them that are sanctified." 1832. The selections from the correspondence of this year will be sparingly made. This course is plainly dictated by an expression in one of his own letters, where he says, " It would be my wish to have all my correspondence destroyed as soon as it has secured its purpose." He doubtless apprehended, though perhaps witliout any good reason, that by some possibihty, his letters, if filed away and preserved, might eventually fall into hands where their free and confiding language might be construed to his disadvantage ; and hence he adds, with a very natural and significant pun, "The vipers will have enouoh to gnaw upon, without gnawing upon any such Many of his letters were written in a light and l)uoyaiit spirit. 110 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832. often full of sparkling uit and spiiglitly sallies, and sometimes with a keen spice of satire, but all mingled with the kindest feelings and reflections. There were times, however, in the course of the year, when his letters, as well as his diary, betrayed a tendency to depres- sion of sjjirits and unwonted anxiety of mind. This was doubtless to be imputed to his excessive bodily and mental labors, and such vexatious cares and afflictive dispensations as very naturally affected his health, and brought on occasional turns of nervous excitement and consequent debility. Such was the anxiety of his friends on liis account, that they earnestly recommended a sea voyage ; and it was even thought advisable to procure for him, if possible, a cha])laincy in the navy. And, at the same time, he had frequent applications, direct and indirect, to change the scene of his pastoral labors. But it will be seen that every inducement of this kind was resisted, and that he still remained at his post, allowing himself only the occa- sional relaxation of a visit to his parents and friends. Of the extent of his parochial labors enough has already been said. But in addition to these labors, with the joint care of the Banner, his share of the Price Lectures, and his various engage- ments with missionary and other societies, he was called, the present year, by the popular voice, to the irksome and responsible otfice of a member of the school committee, which, from the thorough manner in which the business of teaching in Boston is conducted, proved to be a most formidable burden. But all these labors and cares were not sufficient to check the current of his poetical musings. In his journal of January 2, he records the writing of the following, for the ensuing number of the Banner : — THE SYNAGOGUE. " But even unto this day, when Moses is read, the vail is upon their heart. Nevertheless, when it shall turn to the Lord, the vail shall be taken away." Saikt Paul. I saw them in their synagogue as in their ancient day. And never from my memory the scene will fade away ; For dazzling on my vision still the latticed galleries shine With Israel's loveliest daughters, in their beauty half divine. It is the holy Sabbath eve ; the solitary light Sheds, mingled with the hues of day, a lustre nothing bright ; On swarthy brow and piercing glance it falls with sadden Jig tinge, And dimly gilds the Pharisee's phylacteries and fringe. The two-leaved doors slide slow apart before the Eastern screen, As rise the Hebrew harmonies, witli clianted prayers between; 1832.] CHRIST CHUllCH. And 'mid the tissued veils disclosed, of many a gorgeous dye, Enveloped in their jewelled scarfs, the sacred records lie. Robed in his sacerdotal vest, a silvery-headed man, With voice of solemn cadence o'er the backward letters ran ; And often yet niethinks I see the glow and power that sate Upon his face, as fortli he spread the roll immaculate. And fervently, that hour, I prayed, that from the mighty scroll Its light, in burning characters, might break on every soul ; That on their hardened hearts the vail might be no longer dark, But be forever rent in twain, like that before the ark. For yet the tenfold film shall fiill, O Judah! from thy sight. And every eye be purged to read thy testimonies right, When thou, with all Messiah's signs in Christ distinctly seen, Shalt, by Jehovah's nameless name, invoke the Nazarene. The following also appears in the same number of the Banner, and has been copied into several " extract books." FOR A CHILD'S ALBUM. Dear child of many a hope and prayer. Write in this little book No thought on which thou wouldst not dare To have thy Savior look. On every line, O, may he pour Some glimmering of that ray Which shineth ever more and more Unto the perfect day. Thine be a daily growth in grace, Whatever else betide. In favor with our rescued race. And God be on thy side ; In holiness and purity An upward path to trace. Till, with thine angel, thou shalt see In heaven thy Father's face. The following tribute to the memory of an esteemed classmate and friend, is found in a letter of the 11th of March, on the first afflictive intelligence of his death : "Your hist, mv dear father, is a 112 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832. checkered leaf, with much of good, but, like the world of which it IS an emblem, with some of ill. It is my endeavor to keep my feelings open to all aspects of Providence, whether cheerful or mel- ancholy, and to endeavor to derive such impressions from them as may be turned to permanent benefit. This is the use which our heavenly Father intended, doubtless, should be made of them, as instruments of our moral discipline for another state of existence. But I have no time to moralize ; and this is not the place, even if I had. Your letter gave me the first intelligence of Daniel Whiting. I should be ashamed of myself if it had not made an abiding impression. I loved him dearly, and lament his death with unaftected sorrow. It has not been long out of my mind since I heard of it ; and if my engagements allow, I shall not resist the impulse to arrange some thoughts in verse, as a slight memorial of my esteem. The sliock to his parents must be almost insupporta- ble, for Daniel was not only their favorite, but the favorite of all his friends. I trust we shall meet hereafter." The verses here suggested were written, as appears from the date, while on a subsequent visit to New Haven. IN MEMORY OF D. W. 'Heul Quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse." Once how my exiled schoolboy heart Would with impatience yearn For those dear vernal holidays When I might homeward turn ! And " haven where I would be " then, How fondly would I say, Thou wert too fair to look upon, Save on such holiday ! * And still thy bowers are beautiful. Thy walks are fair to see. But time and troublous thought have worked A dreary change in me ; And year by year thy loveliness Has on my sense grown dim, Till thou hast scarce a charm unbroke Since thou art spoiled of him. * " "SVhen I sat last on this prunrose bank, and looked down these meadows, I thought of them as Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence, — that they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on hoKdays." Walton. 1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 1J3 A grief for which all words are weak Has pierced me to the quick, Nor dare I trust myself to speak The thoughts that crowd so thick ; I yield me to the consciousness Which death and sorrow bring, That all of earth we dote upon Hath no continuing. New Havex, Mai/, 1832. While absent from Boston on this visit, he suffered a severe bereavement in the death of his venerated and much-esteemed friend, the senior warden of bis church, Thomas Clark, Esq. Such a loss, under any circumstances, would have been to him a sad trial ; for Mr. Clark had been not only a warm personal friend, but a faithful church officer, and a most discreet and judicious counsellor. But in the' present case, he felt the dispensation the more keenly, because he could not be present to administer the last consolations of religion, nor to officiate at the funeral solemnities. As communications could be made from place to place, at that time, only through the tardy mails, and the passages by stage or by water, the only modes of conveyance, were long and somewhat hncertain, it was found impossible for him to return in time for the performance of these offices. This was a source of much grief, though not of self-reproach ; for the obstacles were entirely provi- dential, and beyond his control. On the receipt of the melancholy tidings, he wrote a letter of explanation and condolence to the bereaved family, and hastened his return to Boston, being, as be expresses himself in his diary, "very much affected by the intelli- gence." On the Sunday following he preached a funeral sermon, from the text, " The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found in the way of righteousness." Prov. xvi. 31. " The church," he says, " was full to overflowing, and the appearance of the black hangings on the gallery and wardens' seat was very solemn and imposing. The occasion made the sermon an afiecting one. It was, however, a trying duty to me ; and I am relieved that it has been discharged, and so satisfactorily." In the mean time, the following well-deserved tribute appeared in the Banner of the 2d of June : — "With unfeigned sorrow we announce the death, on the morning of the 29th ultimo, of Thomas Clark, Esq., for many years the senior warden of Christ Church in this city, and a member of the standing committee of Massachusetts. The Church has nowhere left a more devoted servant than is thus lost to her on earth. We will go further than tiiis : we have never known the man who, with 15 114 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832. the same opportunities, has done the church such valuahle service ; and the simple secret was, that, hke good Hezekiah, 'in every work that he began in the service of the house of God, and in the law, and in the commandments, to seek his God, he did it with all his heart, and prospered.' It is not our purpose to write an obituary notice of Mr. Clark. That, at the proper time, will be done by a more fitting hand. We could not suffer our paper, however, to go to press, without this brief commemoration of one of the most mem- orable of the servants of God within our knowledge. Of few can it be said, as of him, that he identified his own interests with the Church, — nay, that he i>ostponed them to it. The faithful and devoted guardian of the temporalities of Christ Church for many years, his last days were literally spent in its service. Mr. Clark was seventy-three years of age, and for more than three has been evidently sinking under the weight of infirmity and age. Yet emerging from an indisposition which confined him during nearly all tlie last winter to his chamber, he undertook and prosecuted, and, under God, by the energy which he inspired, — for he pos- sessed universal respect and confidence, — virtually accomplished an enteiprise which men much younger and much stronger than he counted as hopeless. It was among the chief satisfactions of his last hours, that God had so far prospered his heart's desire. 'They have done nobly,' he said of the members of the parish — ' they' have done nobly, and God ivill bless them.' But Mr. Clark was not a Churchman outwardly alone. His heart was in the Church, as the Church was in his heart. Next to laboring for the liouse of God, his delight was to stand within its courts. As his last public act was in its service, so the last place in which he was, except his dying chamber, was the sanctuary of the Lord ; and his last desire was, that he might commemorate the dying love of his Savior ' according to the rites,' as he emphatically added, ' of the Prot- estant Episcopal Church.' On Sunday afternoon, the sacrament was administered to him in the presence of the family and friends of his love, and never was its administration more impressive. From a stupor of many hours' duration, he aroused himself so completely as to unite throughout, with full and fervent voice, in the sublime service of the Church, and, after receiving the last pledge of redeeming mercy, to commend his soul — not forgetting, as he never ft)rgot them, pious wishes for the prosperity of the Church and the happiness of his friends — to its merciful Creator, in simple and sincere reliance on the merits of the Savior. During the even- ing, he contiiuied able and disposed to converse, using mostly the language of the Scriptures, and with especial fervor the Psalms — dwelling most delightedly upon the promises to the Church and her anticipated triumphs, and often adding, ' Praise the Lord, O my soul ! ' and with characteristic energy, ' I toill praise the Lord while 1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 115 I have my being ! ' From this he sank again into a state of appar- ent insensibihty, only awaking for a few moments before his death, at half past one on Tuesday morning, to express his perfect resig- nation to the will of God, not only in regard to himself, but — what he had once said constituted ' the bitterness of his cup ' — his be- reaved fomily. " Mr. Clark was in all the relations of life an excellent and exemplary man. In the public station which for years he held, he enjoyed the confidence and respect of all. He was well known to exercise a benevolence beyond his means ; and the writer of this has occasion to know, — though Mr. Clark was ignorant that he knew it, as his retired and quiet spirit would have had all men ignorant, — that his secret charities were of the most delicate, munificent, and unostentatious character. To the service of the parish of Christ Church he not only devoted his time, his influence, and his exertions, but he embarked in its interests a great portion of his little property ; and it may be said without presumption. In more senses than one, that the zeal of God's house consumed him. He was for many years a faithful and eflicient delegate to the Con- ventions both of the commonwealth and of the diocese, and a useful member of the standitig committee. It was a trait in his character to do well whatever he undertook. In every thing, he aimed to be sincere, open, generous, steadfast, uniform. He was always on the side of sound sense, sound principle, good order, and good morals. He was a good citizen. He was a devoted, exemplary, and consistent Christian. He was a Churchman through and through. He wished, during his sickness, for the prayers provided for him by his mother, the Church, and he would have no other. Her services, as they were the choice and glory of his manhood, so they were the refresh- ment of his old age and the solace of his death. He is gathered to his fathers, as a shock of corn fiilly ripe. May we die the death of the righteous, and our last end be like his." In explanation of the allusion, in the foregoing extract, to an enterprise on which Mr. Clark bestowed the last energies of his life, it is proper to say, that when the Rev. Dr. Eaton resigned the rectorship of Christ Church, the parish, in grateful consideration of his past services, settled upon him a liberal annuity for the residue of his life. It was soon discovered, however, that the rais- ing of this sum annually was a cause of great embarrassment to the parish, and had a tendency to retard its growth, besides render- ing it inconvenient to make suitable provision for the new incumbent. Hence, an arrangement was proposed, and accepted by Dr. Eaton, by which, on the receipt of a stipulated sum from the parish, he was to surrender all claims to the annuity. In making this arrange- 116 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1832. ment Mr. Clark was chiefly instrumental. He lived to see the enterprise so far accomplished ; but it was only by a slow and labo- rious process that the means could be raised for carrying out the contract on the part of the parish. It was a cause of great anxiety to the new incumbent ; but he applied himself with all his energy and influence to its completion, and he had the satisfaction of suc- ceeding, and of paying over the stipulated sum to his venerated predecessor on the day before the ensuing Christmas. Speaking of the festivities, he says, " Our congregation felt that the congratula- tions of the season were enhanced by a settlement with Dr. Eaton, which was accomplished the day before." Among the records of this year there are many spirited, not to say indignant, allusions to the proceedings of the diocesan Conven- tion of Massachusetts, which commenced its session in Boston on the SOth of June. The following remark precedes a full and minute account of the transactions of this Convention in the Ban- ner : "There was no extraordinary business transacted at the Convention, though some of the ordinary business, as will be seen below, was done in an extraordinary manner, and led to extraordi- nary results." It is not desirable, nor is it necessary or expedient, to awaken the painful recollection of these transactions, or to mingle up with these personal memoirs the working of party machinery on that memorable occasion. But in this connection it must be said, in justice to the deceased, that with every disposition to cultivate a spirit of forbearance and harmony among his brethren, he could look on these proceedings only with disgust, and with utter distrust of the wisdom and integrity of party counsels. To turn to more pleasant themes : The following greeting to his namesake and godson, after having been sent home in manuscript, was published in the Banner : — TO MY NAMESAKE, WILLIAM CEOSWELL DOANE, ON HIS BAPTISM. "Formose Puer." Childe William, I have little skill, But much of heart and hope, To clear from every sign of ill Thy happy horoscope. The occult gift is hid from me. Nor may my art divine Thy life's unfolded destiny From this sweet palm of thine. 1832.] CHRIST ClirilCII. 117 Bnt in thy mother's tender love, Thy father's anxious care, And, more, the answer from above To our baptismal prayer — In these a hallowed influence dwells, A charm that's heavenlier far Than migfht of planetary spells Or culminating star. The power of holiest rites, fair boy, The tears that oft will wet Thy forehead from excess of joy — These be thy amulet ! On these auspicious prospects rest, These figure? out thy fate ; How can they fail to make thee blest — Blest, if not fortunate ? A childless man, well may I deem Thy name my highest pride. Rich in thy parents' dear esteem. Though poor in all beside ; Well may my heart with gladness ache, Flower of a noble stem. If one -will love thee for my sake. As I have honored them. Boston, Tuesday in Whitsun xoeek, Jun^ 12, 1832. lu the course of the year, several changes took place in the pastoral relations of the Episcopal churches in Boston. The Rev. G. W. DoANE, rector of Trinity Church, was elected to the episco- pate of New Jersey ; and the Rev. .Iohn H. Hopkins, assistant minister of the same church, to the episcopate of Vermont. The Rev. Dr. A. Potter resigned the rectorship of St. Paul's, and the Rev. .ToHN L. Stone was called to supply the vacancy. But none of these changes, with the exceptioii of the removal of his friend DoAXE, affected the incumbent of Christ Church. It was deemed the imperative duty of Mr. Doane to accept the office to which he was elected ; but the separation of the two friends, after their long and confiding intimacy, was exceedingly trying to both. The junior foresaw that it would be utterly impracticable to take the whole labor and responsibility of the editorship of the Banner upon him- self; and as the income, at the low price of the paper, was inade- quate to sustain an independent editor, measures were immediately taken for the transfer of the subscription list to the New York Churchman, and for closing the publication of the Banner in Bos- 118 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832. ton. Under date of November 27, he writes: "We unfurl the Banner once more at half mast, this week, as a signal of distress, and of our intention to surrender to the Churchman. I am heartily glad to have my hands clear of it, at any expense ; and our breth- ren in New York have no less reason to be glad at an accession to their lists, which will make their paper a source of revenue." Again, on the 3d of December: "I think our New Haven subscribers will find the Churchman a desirable exchange for the Banner, in its larger size, variety of contents, and chiefly from its being issued from ' head quarters.' It was a thing spoken of at New York, during our late sojourn, as desirable, that I should assume the management of that paper. But God forbid ! Except as a correspondent, I purpose never to have any further connection with the periodical press." The following is found in his manuscript collections, under date of New York, October 31, 1832, the day on which his friend Doane was consecrated to the episcopate of New Jersey. This sufficiently explains its meaning. AD AlsnCIJM. Let no gainsaying lips despise thy youth ; Like his, the great Apostle's favorite son. Whose early rule at Epliesus begun : Thy Urim and thy Thummim — Light and Truth — Be thy protection from the Holy One : And for thy fiery trials, be there shed A sevenfold grace on thine anointed head. Till thy "right onward" course shall all be run. And when thy earthly championship is through. Thy warfare fought, thy battle won, And heaven's own palms of triumph bright in view, May this thy thrilling welcome be : " Well done ! Because thou hast been faithful over few, A mightier rule be thine, O servant good and true!" In his letter, dated on the last day of the year, he says, " To- morrow we open church again, in commemoration of the Circum- cision, and intend to do so on all the holy days throughout the year. This has become the more desirable, in consequence of Trinity Church being closed on those days, since Bishop Doane abdicated the rectorship. I expect that we shall commence with great spirit, and I have endeavored to secure a better attendance than I have ever vet seen in the great central churches." After a tew touching reflections on the death of friends during 1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 119 the year, he closes this letter thus : " Alas ! how m.iny are the dead of 1832, and some of them how dear ! Who are to be the dead of 183:3 1 None of us, I trust, who shall be found otherwise than as those who wait for the coming of their Lord. Amen." 1833. Among the leading incidents of this year may be recorded the result of a negotiation which is alluded to in one of the letters of the last. He had declined an informal proposal to resign the rec- torship of Christ Church, Boston, for the purpose of assuming the editorship of the New York Churchman. But this refusal was by no means satisfactory to his New York friends ; and early in the present year, a new and more formal effort was made to induce him to change his purpose, and to consent once more to enter upon the cares and responsibilities of editorial life. In a letter to his father, of the 4th of March, he speaks of a direct overture from some of the leading Episcopalians of New York to accept, with a liberal salary, the entire management of the Churchman ; and his friend DoANE so far favored the plan, that he offered, if it should be thouglit desirable, to divide the responsibility, and act jointly with him in the enterprise. He continues : " I soon convinced him, however, that it was a line of life any thing but desirable, and one which all my past experience has led me to regard with loathing and dread. But for this experience, I might be tempted to regard such a proposition favorably ; but if I ever embark in such a busi- ness again, 1 do it with eyes open to all the anxieties, privations, and weariness of the flesh which is sure to follow the oversight of any press. . . . Nothing but the most entire convictions of duty could ever again overcome my reluctance to encounter this painful drudgery ; and as no such convictions of duty are upon my mind in this case, I instructed him most peremptorily to decline. A still and quiet parish for me ; and the less I have to do with the great world, so much the better. God wilhng, I shall let nothing divert me again from this original purpose of my heart : though not my will, but His be done ! " But notwitbstiuiding this peremptory refusal, his friends in New York seemed unwilling to abandon the plan ; and he soon received from one of the soundest, and most judicious, and influential cler- gymen of the city an urgent appeal to every motive that might be deemed most likely to govern his decision, to review the case, and endeavor to give them a favorable answer. The letter was written 120 MEMOIIl OF WILLIAM CllOSWELL. [1833. in the most kind, persuasive, and flattering' terms ; and it produced, as he acknowledges to his father in the subjoined extract, some doubt and misgiving as to the correctness of his decision. " My dear fatlier, on the subject of tlie proposal contained in the above, I have already expressed my sentiments. I must confess, notwith- standing, that I am somewhat staggered by this appeal. I am mistaken, if it does not move you also. I hope I am not variable ; but, more than this, I hope I shall always change when change is for the better. Thougli I am jiot prepared to avo\v any alteration in my disposition to entertain favorably this plan, as already given to you, it is obvious that it cannot consistently be rejected without miich reflection and consideration. With regard to my situation here, I never felt more perplexity. My parochial prospects were never more unclouded than at this moment ; but my apprehension is that they will not long be suffered to continue so. All I can say is, that mine hour is not yet come. ... I cannot help shrink- ing at the id*ea of linking myself once more to the weekly press ; and yet when I consider what a paper rnight be made at New York, with such coadjutors as and , my spirit kindles again within me, and I feel willing to devote myself to such prospects of usefulness ; and then, again, I pause to inquire whether I am not building an unsubstantial pageant, the baseless fabric of a vision, such as can never exist except in an ardent and ill-regulated imagi- nation. Whether real or fanciful, however, these thoughts of my head trouble me. I commit the case to God in prayer, and to you in this wise. To no other human being here can I open my mind, except Bishop Doane. I would like to have you review your own opinions, and communicate by the very first mail ; and till I liear, I shall feel much in suspense. Understand, however, that I can bring myself to contemplate the acceptance of this invitation only on condition of its being associated with some easy parochial cure in the neighborhood of the city. At my time of life, I would not willingly withdraw from the ranks of the working clergy ; and with my present stock of sermons, I should have no difliculty on that score. In short, to end as I began, I know not what to do. I am not sure but it will be my duty to go; and I trust inclination will surrender its claims, if I can find out that it has any for a different course. You can of course view the question in all its bearings more dispassionately than I, and I shall be governed mainly by your opinion." To this dutiful and affecting a])peal his father had but one answer to give ; and this answer was founded on long experience and observation, and was in perfect accordance with all the former opinions which he liad expressed on similar subjects. Whether right or not, it had the effect to fortify the son as to the correctness of his previous decision ; and thougli a ])arisli was offered him, in 1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 121 addition to the other inducements, lie felt it to be Iiis duty to decline the proposal. His own language will best express his feelings. In a letter of April 3d he says, " I confess I have had a great strife of feeling with regard to 's application ; and all the changes of mood and various fluctuations of my irresolute mind have been laid by turns before you in my frequent letters. You will perceive by my last, in which I express myself without reserve, as in all before, that I have at length settled down into the same convictions which you yourself entertain ; and if I had been doubtful, I need not assure you that yours, received this morning, would have satisfied me that it was not my duty to take a step so contrary to your wishes. On this subject, therefore, you may set your mind at ease ; and, at the same time, I shall relieve my own from all its past perplexity, by sending in the next mail a peremptory refusal to the gentlemen of New York. I never did any thing more cheerfully than I shall do this; and I shall once more bend myself, with fresh interest, to the duties of a parish, of whose entire and unshaken devotion to me I was never so ftdly assured." • But this subject must not be dismissed without adding, in justice to his own memory and to the credit of his warm-hearted corre- spondent, a few extracts from his rejjly to his last letter. New York, April 11, 1833. Rev. and dear Brother: Your letter of the 4th instant was received in due course, and was last evening submitted to the trustees of the press, in lieu of that which I had fondly lioped to present — a ratification of an arrangement to do your Master's work in the wide field to which we would have called you. That you have been calm, single-hearted, and conscien- tious in making your decision, I cannot doubt ; that it has been judicious, I will not question ; that it has been grievous in an extreme to those, whom, had you known as I do, you would, I think, have been more anxious to help in their work, I know but too well. In one way only can you make amends for the pain you have given us. Let that pen, the powers of which appear so plainly even when it is attempting to prove its own weakness, be statedly and freely employed as a coadjutor in the work, to which you have refused to consecrate its whole energies. Pray, help me with scraps -— if they be but scraps — of thoughts, doctrinal, practical, devotional, or critical, in prose or verse, on subjects old or new, foreign or domestic, such as come to you most naturally, and such as give pleasure, relief, or comfort to a mind tasked with other things. Thus you can do something to alleviate a burden, which, I fear, you have fixed on me, even till it may crush me, and thus can at least show more kindness than he deserves to your faithful and true friend and brother. The next prominent incident to be recorded is a most perilous accident, which occurred on his return from a long visit to his friends in New York, New Jersey, Albany, Troy, Catskill, and New Haven. The first intimation of this accident received by his family in New Haven was through a paragra[)h in a Boston newspaper, stating the simple fact that the Rev. William Croswell had been severely injured by the upsetting of a stage at Walpole, a post town 16 122 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS\^rELL. [1833. some twenty miles from Boston, and had been taken up in a state of insensibility. There was neither telegraph nor railroad at that time, nor was there any, direct mode of conveyance except by the mail stages. His friends, therefore, were compelled to wait in painful suspense for the arrival of the eastern mail. But the mail, when it came, brought no letter ; and this circumstance very much increased their anxiety. It was now resolved, therefore, to despatch his brother Sherman by the first stage, to ascertain the true state of the case, and to be ready to render any assistance that might be required. He took his seat, and had been gone half an hour, when his father, on stejjping into the post office, found a letter, in the handwriting of William, which had been miscarried to Newark, N. .r., on the previous day, and was now returned by the southern mail! Learning from this letter that the injury was not as serious as had been apprehended, it was thought advisable to prevent his brother's proceeding on the journey, under all tlie painful suspense necessarily arising from the circumstances; hence a messenger was despatched to overtake the mail stage, to relieve him, as well from the fatigue of the journey as from the anxiety of his mind. The letter above mentioned, under date of May 20, after giving a graphic and pleasing account of the commencement of his journey, from New York to Providence, in the splendid steamer " Boston," pro- ceeds thus to describe the accident and its results : " For the remainder of my journey, I am sorry to say that its end did not correspond with its beginning ; though, by the mercy of God, I am the monument of an almost miraculous preservation. We arrived at Providence at half past four o'clock on Saturday morning ; and I immediately took my seat in the mail Pilot, which goes consid- erably in advance of the other coaches. We got on rapidly and safely to tlie half-way house at Walpole ; but as we drove headlong towards the door, with a smart flourish, the carriage separated from the wheels, and precipitated every thing to the ground with great violence — baggage, passengers, and pieces of the carriage, all in one tumultuous heap. Marvellous to relate, though the carriage was broken to fragments, by the divine goodness no person was seriously injured ; but your son and servant, who was on the box with the driver, with characteristic misfortune, made the nearest approaches to it. I was somewhat stunned by the shock, and, when I recovered, found myself in bed, with my forehead considerably scratched and defaced, but not in the shghtest degree endangered. When the physician arrived, however, he insisted on bleeding and giving medicine ; and that the operation might have its full advan- tage, I consented to remain another day at Walpole, and had excellent care taken of me. Rumors of my shipwreck, more or less exaggerated, in the mean time reached Boston ; and my friends were soon on their way in troops to see me. Early yesterday they 1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 123 came in a close carriage, and got me into town very comfortably before nightfall. Of my health to-day you may judge something by my ability to write this letter, but more from my solemn and explicit assurance that I am perfectly sound, mind and limb, and, excepting a little weakness and soreness occasioned by the jar and straining of the cords, my health is excellent. What most was apprehended was some aftection of the head and brain ; but of this there lias not been the slightest symptom. You must not allow yourselves, therefore, to have your apprehensions excited by any thing you may see in the newspapers, or from irresponsible sources. The rumor, no farther off than Boston, was that several of us were killed instantly. More than half of my parish would have been at Walpole to-day, had I remained. I need not tell you with what kindness I have been overpowered, the moment my friends heard of the circumstances." In a letter a week later, May 27, after speaking of the gross carelessness which occasioned the delay of his first letter, and caused so nnich suspense and anxiety among his New Haven friends, he says, "Had I known that you were all in the dark about me so long, without any information but those exaggerated and contradictory rumors in the papers, which were worse than ignorance, I am sure it would have had more of a tendency to retard the progress of my recovery than the accident itself As it was, I had gained a great start before your letter came to hand ; and having the whole of the drama before me, with all its scenes of doubt and perplexity clear- ing up to a happy and satisfactory development, a feeling of grati- tude predominates over all the rest, and I cannot find it in my heart to make a clamor and outcry about it. I should be sorry indeed to have had Sherman taken his wearisome way hither, with such painful impressions on his mind ; but I need not assure him and you that we should all be exceedingly glad to have seen him." In a subsequent letter, Sunday, June 2, he indulges in a line or two of pleasantry on the subject of this accident : " The ' reverend clergyman,' your son, who has figured of late so much on the ' stage,' in the higher walks of tragedy, has proved to-day that his powers are still undiminished in another line, by preaching thrice, and baptizing, besides attending Sunday schools and Bible classes, and sundry et ceteras." But he does not close, without returning to that serious train of thought which pervades all his writings. Speaking of his mother's proposed journey, he says, " I sincerely rejoice that no part of it need be in the perils of mail coaches. We are equally in the care, however, of a superintending Providence, whether in motion or at rest, and, with all earthly appliances of comfort around, can never say, Now am I secure. It is right that it is so, that we may feel at every moment our entire dependence on our almighty Preserver. My first sermon, on my return to my 124 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833. my people, was on this subject, from Paul's noble avowal, when in clanger of shipwreck, " Whose I am, and whom I serve," showing how we are God's by right of creation and redemption, and the duty of avowing and exhibiting by our conduct that we are his, in whatever circumstances we may be placed. Again, on the 10th of .Tune, he writes, " I am still well to do, as you may easily judge by token, having sustained without flinching three entire services yesterday, performed the baptismal office three times, and done all other things which a Christian minister can do in the Sunday school, Bible class, &c. Let no man's heart fail him, therefore, because of me. God has been truly gracious, and his holy name be praised." It is evident from these extracts, and from several corresponding notes in his diary, that he felt no apprehension from the effects of the accident. But it is to be observed that, from this time forward, he frequently alluded in his letters to some irregularities in his sys- tem, to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Headache and chills, languor and inertness, coldness and irritability of the stomach, and an excessive degree of nervous sensibility, at times disturbed him. Nor is it improbable that a most singular involuntarv con- traction of the muscles on that side of the face and head on which he fell, by which he was sorely afflicted in the latter years of his life, may be imputed to this cause; and there is but too much reason to apprehend that it laid the foundation for the malady, which finally, in such a sudden and extraordinary manner, terminated his life. In collecting the poetical productions which are preserved in tiiese pages, it is easy to perceive the peculiar appropriateness of one of the terms by which the writer himself chose to characterize these various gems. They were indeed " fugitive." With the exception of those which were expressly prepared for publica- tion, during his connection with the periodical press, they were often thrown off" without any pains to mark their origin or the occasion on which they were written. Sometimes they were con- veyed in private letters to his friends, sometimes sent anonymously to the public newspapers, and sometimes put aside among his mis- cellaneous papers, without date or signature. But some few of them were transcribed, probably by his own sanction, in a man- uscript collection ; and by the help of these, with occasional allu- sions in his diary and correspondence, it is not difficult to arrest and identify many of these fugitives, and restore them to their rightful owner. Among these the following is found. It was addressed to a young and warm-hearted friend. Captain Joseph P. Couthouy.* * ;Mr. Couthouy's name Avill liequently appear, in the subsequent pages of 1833.] CHRIST CHUIICII. 125 when on the point of embarking for tiie Mediterranean, in a mer- chant vessel, named, under his own direction, " The Heber." All gentle gales, Serene and smiling skies, thy course attend ; The " winds of God " and goodness fill thy sails, My faithful friend. And if the trust Be not in vain, that Heaven does still assign Our guardians from the spirits of the just, Be Heber's thine I And when 'tis o'er, The stormy passage of our life, may we Meet in that world where he has gone before, Without a sea. W. C. The following, as he states in his diary, was written at midnight of the Epiphany, and is found in the manuscript collection. It has probably never appeared in print. MIDNIGHT THOUGHT. 'Tis the very verge of the midnight deep, And I hark for the passing bell That will presently come, with its solemn sweep, To bid the last hour farewell ; A lonely vigil it is to keep. As I sadly think of those Who have sunk away to their long, last sleep. And tlieir undisturbed repose. But O, how happy to thinly, this night. Of the eyes that are shut, like flowers, To open again more fresh and bright, With the brighter and fresher hours. The hosts of God, wlio pitch their tents All good men round about, Protect their slumbering innocence. And " make their dreams devout." this work, as the friend and correspondent of the rector of Clirist Church, and especially at a later period of his life, while he was attached to the scientific corps of the South Sea exploring expedition. 126 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSAVELL. [1833. Of the following he writes, January 20, " You have perhaps discovered that some stanzas on Bishop White, in the last Church- man, sound like mine. I hope you will not think them unworthy of me, much less of Mm" WHITE. " Clarum et venerabile nomen." It was a consecrated place, And thought still lingers there, Where first I saw thee face to face, And heard thy voice in prayer ; Though thousands thronged each long-drawn aisle, •I dwelt upon thy mien. As though alone it filled the pile, So saintly and serene. And there, arrayed on either hand, A goodly sight to see, Rose up our apostolic band, A glorious company. And still I deem that hour most blest When round the shrine they stood. With thee, the father of the rest, A holy brotherhood. Age had forborne thy frame to bow ; Thine eye, without eclipse. Seemed ready, like thy reverend brow, For heaven''s apocalypse ; And well the thought that o'er thee stole Might be of triumph high. Like those which swelled the patriarch's soul When he desired to die. For lo ! the vine thy hand did plant Extends its grateful shade. Where every tired inhabitant May sit, nor be afraid ; Its fair succession spreads apace, Till scarce the land has room. Foretold, like Banquo's kingly race, To stretch till " crack of doom." O, may thy light, which lingers yet, Long to our wishes fond. 1833.] CHIIIST CTIURCII. 127 Give promise, by its glorious set, Of better things beyond : A happy fate, old man, be thine, Deserving of thy fame, And robes reserved in worlds divine, As pure as thine own name ! Next he is found indulging in a lighter strain. On the evening before Valentine's Day, he amused himself in penning a valentine, one copy of which he sent to his cousin Elizabeth, with the fol- lowing playful note : " Do not flatter yourself that the valentine had any personal direction to yourself or any body else. It was merely a trial of my amatory skill, to which I was challenged, and to show what sort of a lover I could make, if I had any heau ideal of a divinity in my thoughts." He also sent a copy to his brother Sherman, to be published in the Albany Argus, accompanied by this caution, in tlie same strain : "You need not fancy any personal direction in my valentine, the streak in question being only the beau ideal of a bachelor's aspirations." A VALENTINE. I stand the fated hours among ; And ere their spell depart, I would not leafve thee all unsung, Fair lady of my heart ! Though wintry airs are wondrous sharp, Though storms obscure the moon, And cold has snapped thy strings, poor harp ! My heart is still in tune. Yes, let the world without be chill. Let all be wild and wet. The fire within glows brightly still. The pulse throbs warmly yet ; Nor will it throb, dear maid, in vain. How rude soe'er the line, Thy gentle heart will not disdain Thine own true Valentine. On an unoccupied page of a letter of March 30, he transcribes the following touching lines ; and, in a subsequent letter, he says, 128 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833. "As they are yet unappropriated, you Diay put them into any ' Mary's ' Bible that you Uke." FOR MARY'S BIBLE. Who sees, where in the sacred leaves, The name of some dear friend Its tribute at God's hand receives, And saintliest lips commend, And prays not that the Book may bear For her that witness true. That all the hallowed name who share May be like-minded too ? Wouldst have thy name in heaven's own With heaven's own colors writ ? Learn, in thy green, unsaddened age. At Jesus' feet to sit ; By faith unfeigned, and holy love, And penitential prayer, 'Tis graven in the Book above. And kept unfading there. In his diary of June 25, he says, " Wrote valedictory stanzas to my sister." These stanzas probably never appeared in print. They are copied from the manuscript collection, where they appear under the above date. TO MY SISTER. How like, alas ! in their estate Are home and heart ! the one Is left unto thee desolate. Its thousand ties undone ; The other, as the winds go by, Sore charged with storm and rain. Hear in their sound the dismal cry, " When shall we meet again ! " But hush, fond lieart ! there is a home Not made by hand of clay, Where change and chance shall never come, In heaven's eternal day. 1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 129 For that loved rest thyself prepare By deeds of holy strain, Till, in the many mansions there, We meet, nor part again. The following lines were written under circumstances particularly worthy of note. It was on the morning of the 4th of July, and amid the festivity and pageantry of the day, that he broke away from the company by which he was surrounded, and, according to an entry in his diary, " went home and wrote a piece of poetry." This is the production of such an hour ; and when it is recollected that his friend Doane had now left the city, and removed with his family to his episcopal residence in New Jersey, the significancy of its language and sentiment will be well understood and appreciated. TO G. W. D. I miss thee at the morning tide, The glorious hour of prime ; I miss thee more, when day has die At blessed evening time. As slide the aching hours away, Still art thou unforgot ; Sleeping or waking, night and day, When do I miss thee not ? How can I pass that gladsome door, Where every favorite room Thy presence made so bright before Is loneliness and gloom ? Each place where most thou lov'dst to be. Thy home, thy house of prayer. Seem yearning for thy company : I miss thee every where. The following appears to have been written at about the same time, when he speaks in his diary of having " opened a new vein of poetry." 17 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833. TO A SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER. Much do we miss thee from thy gentle task Of love and mercy, on the Sabbath day, As gather round thy little ones to ask What keeps their kindly Teaclier far away. The sweet and solemn quiet of the hours, The sounds as solemn and as sweet as they, In sevenfold cadence flung from yon old towers. Where thou so oft hast met with us to pray — These and the blessing on each head that brings Young souls from darkness into light divine, Connect thy memory with all heavenliest things, And make a day of glorious prospect shine, When they shall rise on strong, immortal wings, And like a starry firmament shall shine. In his diary of .Tiily 13 he speaks of his having written a sonnet; and he probably refers to the following, which is found in the man- uscript collection, without date. It is transcribed because it is, as he styles it himself, an "exculpatory sonnet," and seems to explain a trait in his deportment, which had been sometimes imputed to studied rlistancr and reserve, in his intercourse with society. He here raises in his defence the example, ajid avails himself of the language and sentiments, of an old English poet, who, it seems, some three hundred years before, had suffered under the like imputation. SONNET.* Because I oft in dark, abstracted guise. Seem most alone in greatest company. With dearth of words, or answers quite awry To them that would make speech of speech arise. They deem, and of their doom the rumor flies, That poison foul of bubbling pride doth lie So in my swelling breast, that only I Fawn on myself, and others do despise. Yet pride, I think, doth not my soul possess, Which looks too oft in his unflattering glass ; * « For the first ten lines of this exculpatory sonnet I am indebted to that paragon of euphuists, worthy of all titles both of learning and chivalry, Sir Philip Sidney ; for the remainder he is not responsible, nor for any violation of the fii'st canon of Horace, * de arte poetica,' wliich may be involved in them." 1833.1 CmilST CHURCH. 131 But one worse weakness I must needs confess, That deep embarrassment which doth, alas ! Both mental powers and bodily oppress : Hence rises my reserve, and not from willingness. The following bears date August 23 : — DE PROFUNDIS. " There may be a cloud without a rainbow, but there cannot be a rainbow without a cloud." My soul were dark But for the golden light and rainbow hue, That, sweeping heaven with their triumphal arc, Break on the view. Enough to feel That God indeed is good. Enough to know. Without the gloomy cloud, he could reveal No beauteous bow. In his diary of September 5, he speaks of having received a paper containing the " Traveller's Hymn," of which a copy is found in the manuscript collection. TRAVELLER'S HYMN. " In joumeyings often." Lord ! go with us, and we go Safely through the weariest length, Travelling, if thou will'st it so. In the greatness of thy strength ; Through the day, and through the dark, O'er the land, and o'er the sea. Speed the wheel, and steer the bark, Bring us where we fain would be. In the self-controlling car, 'Mid the engine's iron din, Waging elemental war. Flood without, and flood within. 132 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833. Through tlie day, and through the dark, O'er the laud, and o'er the sea, Speed the wheel, and steer the bark, Bring us where we fain would be. The verses which follow probably never appeared in print. They were found, under date of November, 1833, in his own handwriting, and were subsequently transcribed, in a letter to his father, with the playful inquiry, " By what art do you think I have recovered the following ? " FROM THE ANTIQUE. " Fons Crueis, Fons Lucis." BY THE NAME OF CROSSE-WELLE. Welle of the Crosse ! would I might be In spirit, as in name, like thee, Whose gentle flow from Calvarie's mount Covers the nations like a sea ; Drowns in its depths the Egerian fount, And older wave of Castalie. Welle of the Crosse ! would that my name Were emblem of my being's aim. Upon whose face, in tranquil rest. The purest hues of heaven might glow, And through its deep, transparent breast, Fair truth be seen far down below. Welle of the Crosse ! would that I might Thy glorie with thy name unite : That, cleansed by thee from every stain. My soul might gladly count but loss All worldly thought, all worldly gain, To bear the burden of the Cross. O, yes, for thee, Welle of the Crosse ! Fain would I count all gain but loss ; For thee fain would I live and die. Nor covet ease, nor toil decline. So I all sin might crucify. So I but conquer in that sign ! * * "In hoc signo vinces." Constantine' s Vision, 1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 133 With a few brief extracts from his correspondence, the record of the present year is conchided. In a letter, dated Sunday even- ing, .lanuary 6, he says, " I have just returned from a solemn oratorio at the Handel and Haydn Society, where they have undertaken, for the second time this season, to go through that wonderful perform- ance. The Messiah. Than the choruses nothing can be finer. The effect is not to be described to one who has never heard it. 1 can only say that some strains equal all my conceptions of what is worthy of the solemn and sublime sentiment of which they are the vehicle. They still thrill in my ears ; and if I had the assurance of good Dr. , of , I might catch something of his rapture, when he exclaimed, ' That is such music as / shall hear in heaven.' Certainly, on this side of the grave, nothing can come much nearer. This entertainment is only to be had on Sunday evenings, when all the performers have no engagements elsewhere to interfere. Otherwise I should prefer some other opportunity, although I cannot but consider the services of the day as very proper preparation in order to receive the full benefit of this reli- gious and sublime composition. I have come away with new ideas of the power of music, and with new conceptions, I trust, of the character of Him who has been the subject of it." A letter of November 4, addressed to his father, is written in a moralizing strain, and contains sentiments highly creditable as well to his heart as his head ; but as the allusions are generally of a private nature, only here and there a passage can be selected. " Let us not attempt by our over-hastiness to forestall the divine wisdom. Let us cheerfully resign every thing to his righteous dis- posal, who worketh in us both to will and to do. He that believeth shall not make haste. If we pass through indignities and trials, we know who hath forewarned us that these things must needs be. It is our business to bear up under and profit by them ; ' for what glory is it, if, when ye be bufteted for your faults, ye shall take it patiently ] but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God. For even hereunto ye were called,' Sec. ... I did not intend to moralize over so much of my sheet ; but I find it so necessary and refreshing to take this view of the doctrine of the cross, in what cometh upon me daily, that I find it the favorite remedy when called to administer to the troubles of others. Has our religion, indeed, done its perfect work upon our hearts, if we have ani/ will of our own, or if we do not cheerfully acquiesce in the will of God, which is signified in all the dispensations of his providence ? Pureness, long-suftering, love and faith unfeigned — these are the gold which is to be purified of baser alloy in the fiery trial, and to be stamped as fitted even for the Master's use." 134 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834. 1834. The extract with which the record of this year is commenced brings to the mind of the biographer some exceedingly painful reminiscences. How delightful the anticipation ! how distressing the result ! It is dated on the day when the Rev. William L. Keese commenced his regular services as associate rector of the parish of Trinity Church, New Haven, to which office he had been unanimously called. He had preached with entire acceptance in the two churches which were then embraced in the cure ; and though the day was extremely stormy and unpleasant, his ministry began with the most flattering prospects ; and during the short period in which he was permitted to continue his services, he secured the love and esteem not only of the senior rector, but of the whole parish. But the day of disappointment was near at hand. Before the year had half expired, he began to sink under a disease which prostrated his strength, unfitted him for duty, and finally brought him to an early grave. " Boston, Sunday Ereninfj, Jamiary 12, 1834. " My dear Father : This has been rather an inauspicious day for the commencement of brother Reese's labors at New Haven ; but in our present state of being, we must be content to take the evil with the good ; and it is well, perhaps, that we should not have too much to exhilarate us at first. If physical 'cold' was among the trials of the apostle, the weather reminds us that we, who are not apostles, must not expect to do better. Make my best and most brotherly salutations to your new coadjutor, and assure him of my prayers for an abundant blessing upon the relation which he this day assumes. I need not tell you that I have had you both in my thoughts ; and, next to those of heaven, they keep my spirit warm within me, tliis severe weather." It is pleasant to record the next extract from his correspondence, January 19, as illustrative of the character and disposition of the writer, though constrained to say, that the good offices thus tendered and accepted were not destined to produce any very lasting effisct. " I have been doing, this last week, what, a year ago, I thought I never could have done ; but it is because, I hope, I have twelve months' more teaching in the school of Christ. The estrangement between the rector of Church and myself has, of late, been becom- ing daily a subject of remark and inquiry, and made detrimental to the welfare of the Church. I determined that the fault should not be mine, if we were not on such terms of ministerial courtesy as 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 135 to take from the adversary any argument to our disadvantage. Without consulting with flesh and blood, therefore, I wrote to him very kindly, requesting him to officiate at our church next Sunday evening ; and he has answered as kindly in acceptance of the invitation." But while thus endeavoring to cultivate a kindly spirit with his clerical brother, he could by no means close his eyes against the folly and absurdity, to apply no harsher terms, of the erratic course pursued by that brother in the ministrations of his parish. Take, for example, the following, under date of February 10 : "You have seen the notice, which I marked in the Transcript, of a 'series of lectures on the evidences of Christianity, to be delivered in Church, by four clergymen of as many different denominations.' Shades of our fathers ! it was too true a bill. There was no mis- take. The series was commenced last night, the rector himself reading prayers, and Winslow (Dr. Beecher's own successor in situation and sentiment) delivered the Introductory. It is too late to say, Tell it not in Gath ; for it was published beforehand in all the streets of Askalon, and the sons and daughters of Philistia have rejoiced in our shame. We are entirely dumbfounded and taken by surprise, and open not our lips. It must, however, react. It is as impolitic as it is unnecessary, dishonest, and unkind to his brethren of the same name, who are thus indirectly reproached for sectarianism, exclusiveness, and bigotry, and what not. One effect must be, to hasten the removal of all who love the Church from that . . . ; and another, to place the rector in a very disad- vantageous contrast with his associates, who are, Winslow, (Ortho- dox, so called,) Stow, (Baptist,) and Walker, (Unitarian !) the last by far the ablest man, and one of the most thorough-paced support- ers of the sect. I repeat, therefore, tlmt there must needs be a recoil, and such a one as he is by no means in a state to sustain." In a letter, dated some months later, this significant paragraph occurs with regard to the singular policy of the same clergyman : " Still another sign ! as the newspapers say. On my way to Cam- bridge, the other day, I picked up a number of the Boston Daily Antimasonic Advocate, a week or two old. It contained a curious account of the temperance anniversary held the previous evening at Church. The editor observed that Mr. Stow was not so interesting as usual in the pulpit, (now ]Mr. Stow is a Baptist min- ister,) and that Mr. Mattheson, (the Presbyterian delegate from England,) though very fervent, was rather too lengthy in his prayer. You may see by this to what pass things have gone, and may judge whether the force of latitudinarianism can be carried any further." But to turn, for a moment, to a more agreeable topic. The fol- lowing is found in manuscript, under date of February 6. It has probably never been published. 136 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CKOS^VELL. [1834. TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME A WATCH CASE AND THERMOMETER. How much, O Time ! at every beat My faithful watch has said Of thine unseen yet quick retreat, Thy never-ceasing tread ! And friends have given me, day by day, A clearer power to see How fast thy circles wear away Into Eternity. But howsoever times may range, Let not this token be A type of like mercurial change Between my friends and me. Howe'er the quickened silver mount. Or shrink into the ball, Be our dilated hearts unwont To either rise or fall. In his letter of 3Iarch 3, he mentions his delivery of the Price Lecture on " the Holy Catholic Church ; " and he adds, " For which, on descending from the pulpit, I received, according to the will of the late Mr. Price, two sovereigns, besides sundry compliments not provided for by the testator. I am so little used to handling gold, that I was obliged to inquire its value, (not so with the congratula- tory phrases.)" He also speaks in this letter of his having written some poetry, a copy of which is subjoined. " My famous godson, William Croswell Doane, entered upon his third year yesterday ; and as poet laureate to the heir apparent, I sent him his usual birth- day ode. The ' little brilliant,' I dare say, had rather have a sugar plum, by half, than all the verses in the world." But be tliis as it may, the bishop himself, he adds, " has been so much pleased with them, that he has enclosed me a lock of the little fellow's bright golden hair, which is the best piece of ' unwritten poetry ' that 1 have had in a long time. What so beautiful as the sunny and delicate ringlets of a child 1 " 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 137 TO MY GODSON,* WILLIAM CROSWELL DO.VNE : MARCH 2, 1834. It seems, dear boy, but yesterday, Since to the font we came, A happy and delighted throng' To answer in tliy name : And I, thy father's chosen friend, Joyed o'er thy father's son. To hear the priestly blessing blend Our allied names in one. But ah, how cloud has followed cloud ! How many a thrilling scene Of trial and of triumph crowd The narrow space between ! * These lines were presented to tlie young child on a subsequent birthday, and being carefully preserved until he came to years of manhood, called forth this grateful response, which was addressed to his godfather a few months before his death : — W. C. D. TO W. C. Full nineteen years of yesterdays Have sought the silent grave, Since, from the font, baptismal drops My infant brows did lave : The drops that gave my father's name . With thine, for me to bear. And made me, with the Cross's sign, Christ's soldier, heaven's heir. And many a time, his hand and thine. With priestly power endowed. Have given me grace, in part to do "\Miat then, for me, j'ou vowed ; And many a time, both thou and he. In bearing Jesus' cross. Have taught me what the world counts gain, For Christ, to be but loss. And though, by Apostohc hands, Those vows on me are laid, Which by the consecrated font Thy hps, for me, once said. For silent prayers oft breathed for me, And loving acts oft done. Thou hast till death, my father's friend, Love from my father's son. RrvEESiDE, July 31, 1851. 18 138 MEMOIE, OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834. And we are sundered far and wide, Who framed in happier hour The ties which time shall not divide, Nor death shall overpower. Let not thine eye to me be strange, Whose smile has been so sweet. And I can bear what other change Awaits us ere we meet. And sure the love which thus began Must bind us to the end, And never can thy father's son Forget thy father's friend. But from these delightful, and, as the event has proved, prophetic strains, our attention is again called back to plaintive and melan- choly tones. He had been already apprised of the dangerous illness of the Rev. Dr. Montgomery, of St. Stephen's Church, Philadel- phia ; and in his letter to his father, March 10, he says, " I believe I told you that our most estimable brother. Dr. Montgomery, is drawing near to his end with consumption. Death has indeed few fitter victims, none more worthy to enter upon the reward of the faithful ; but, humanly speaking, how premature it is ! " And after citing a paragraph from a letter of Bishop Doane, he adds, " The ravages of mortality among the clergy of our generation has indeed been fearful, but it is, I trust, because God is making up his jewels ; let your loins be therefore girded, and your lamps burning, and ye yourselves as men who wait for the Master's coining." Dr. Mont- gomery died on the IGth of March ; and Bishop Doane imme- diately communicated the sad intelligence to his friend, with a full and most aftecting account of his last hours, and the triumphant manner of bis departure, concluding with this just and beautiful testimony : " Never was the bed of death a preacher of righteous- ness more eloquent. Never were the peace and joy of the believer more signally manifested than in him who now sleeps in Jesus." And to this testimony is added, in a letter to his father, " Such an example should not be confined to a corner, but is the property of the whole church of God. ' Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints;' much more should they be precious in ours." That such an event should draw forth one of the happiest effusions of his pen is not strange ; and it appears, by a subsequent letter, that the following lines were sent to Bishop Doane, on the receipt of his last letter. " They seemed," he says, " to arrange themselves almost spontaneously, and have received little or no correction." CHRIS'J' CHURCH. 130 My brother, I have read Of holy men, in Christ who fell asleep, For whom no bitter tears of woe were shed — I could not weep ! And thou thyself art one, O man of loves, and truth without alloy ! The Master calleth, and thy work well done, Enter thy joy ! To such as thee belong The harmonies in which all heaven unite, To share the " inexpressive nuptial song," And walk in white ! But O, thy Church ! thy home ! Thy widowed home ! — who shall forbid to grieve ? How may they bear the desolating gloom Such partings leave ? Great Shepherd of the flock ! E'en Thou, whose life was given for the sheep, Sustain them in the overwhelming shock. And safely keep ! A few months later, but before the memory of this painful event had been in the slightest degree effaced, while the strains of his plaintive lute were still sounding in the ears and touching the hearts of thousands, his sympathies were again awakened by the death of another of his clerical brethren. On this, as on every other subject, it is expedient, as far as practicable, to copy his own words, because no other language could so thoroughly illustrate the devout spirit which constituted the brightest trait in his character. Under date of October 20, he says, " Of the many instances of mortality among the clergy, which come to us with a solemn warning to be also ready, there is one which circumstances have brought near to me in a most affecting matmer. I allude to our brother Blanchard, late of Annapolis, and last of Baltimore. He died after a short confinement, and has entered, I am sure, upon the rest that remains for the people of God. He was here on his annual visit to his friends in August, and preached for me. He was in fine health and the prime of life, and few, apparently, had a surer tenure on exist- ence. He spent several hours with me, and I was delighted with his conversation and society ; so mild was he, so gentle, and so courteous, and yet so firm and decided. He was indeed a perfect 140 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834. pattern of Christian ' conciliation without compromise ; ' and it was impossible to know him and not to love him. I was much shocked to hear of his death on Monday, with a message from his sister (who resides here, and by whom he was almost idolized) to come and comfort her. I did what I could ; but, alas ! how poor and una- vailing were mere human sympathy, if we could not 'rejoice for the consolation ' of the divine teacher. This consolation the friends of the deceased must be favored with in the most eminent degree, for he was a good man, and the Holy Ghost was upon him. His life was upright, and his end was peace. Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be hke his." A page or two must now be devoted to personal matters, for the purpose of showing with what steadiness and uniformity he resisted, up to that time, every inducement to draw him away from the post of duty which he then occupied. By the death of Dr. Montgomery, the rectorship of St. Stephen's Church, Philadelphia, had become vacant; and he was soon informed, by his friend Bishop Doane, that his name, without his knowledge or consent, had been enrolled among a number of candidates for the place, and that there was evidently a preponderating influence in his favor among the leading members of the parish. It was but natural that his friend, with his characteristic kindness and affection, should urge him to look favor- ably upon a suggestion so apparently advantageous ; and he was advised at least to accept an invitation to visit the parish, and officiate for a Sunday or two in the church. Flattered as he may have been by this proposal, he was nevertheless exceedingly morti- fied that his name had been thus brought into view ; and he was so impatient to express to his friend his utter aversion to any such measure, that, without even consulting his father, which he seldom omitted to do on any important question, he promptly replied ; and the substance of his reply is thus given : " I instantly issued my ' solemn protest,' and entreated my excellent friend Doane, by the love he b(u-e me, to have my name withdrawn vvitliout loss of time; that I felt injured in my own estimation by the use that had been made of it ; that I was content to abide as I was, and to die even here within these walls; and that if I ever felt that I was thwarting my destiny by a city life, it was when I dreamed of some (piiet little nook, fast by a river side, where my days might pass away as smoothly as the gentle stream ; that I had never, and would never, because conscientiously I could not, voluntarily place myself in the attitude of a seeker for any change, and least of all such a change as he contemplated ; that were I to receive a unanimous call from St. Stephen's to-morrow, I should think it misdirected, and feel it my duty to decline." Having already made arrangements for visiting Burlington, he 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 141 did not feel, after this ])lain and unequivocal avowal, any delicacy in carrying out these arrangements. Accordingly, he prepared to commence his journey on the 6tli of May, but was detained for a day or two by a violent storm. In the mean time, he states to his father that he had received a letter from his friend Doane, disavow- ing any undue officiousness in suffering his name to come before the people of St. Stephen's, telling him, however, at the same time, witli accustomed plainness, that his "fastidiousness was whimsical and absurd in the last degree." And "so," he adds, "the baseless fabric of that vision is dissolved, much to my mind, and to the relief of many minds here." He pursued his journey to New York, Bur- lington, and Philadelphia, and returned by the way of New Haven, where he spent several days, and, in consequence of the illness of the Rev. Mr. Keese, was persi^aded to supply the pulpits of the two churches in alternation with his father. He finally returned to Boston on the 31st of May, having, according to his own account, had a most delightful excursion. His first letter after his return, June 2, is full of thanksgiving and praise. " Laus Deo ! Praise the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me praise his holy name. . . . To conclude as I began, I trust I have a grateful sense of His mercy, who has thus far kept me under the care of his good providence, and conducted me in safety to the end of my journey, and shall endeavor to manifest it by more singleness of desire to live to his glory." •lune 9, he speaks of having heard, from his friend Doane, that his parish at Burlington had provided the means for employing an assistant. "Of course," he adds, " of all the world he would prefer me. But no : I have one answer for that and all other applications at present. My hour is not yet come. When the clock which I am set to wind up here runs down, and it is all over, I shall flee to some other city. But I cannot conscientiously go yet. I think better days will come, and that speedily. Whether or not, I trust I shall have patience given me to wait and see." In another part of this letter, he alludes with much sadness to the impaired health of Mr. Keese : "I am sorry for the cloud that seems destined to darken the brightness of your prospects. Try, however, to relieve your mind of too much anxiety for the future. Hitherto hath the Lord wonderfully helped you, and he will yet mercifully provide. I trust Mr. Keese's health will be restored, and that the relations so pleasantly begun will yet be continued for many a year." One event took place this summer, which is here alluded to, not because it is necessarily connected with the subject of these memoirs, but because attempts were very unjustly made, in certain quarters, at the time, to involve him in some censure with regard to the scandalous transaction. This event was the wilful burning of the 142 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSW^ELL. [1834. nunnery, or Ursuline Convent, on Mount Benedict, in Charlestown, on the evening of the 11th of August. It is first noted in his diary, August 12 : " Papers filled with accounts of the abominable out- rages of the evening previous, in the destruction of the Ursuline Convent, at Charlestown, by fire." And in a letter of the same date, he says, " I open my letter to state that the nunnery at Charles- town, of which I have told you something, was destroyed last night by a regularly-organized mob, the interior being entirely consumed by fire, and the walls only standing. The superior, nuns, and board- ers were allowed one hour only to transport themselves to places of safety. I fear it will be but the beginning of sorrows, the Irish population being so numerous, and their feelings so much exasper- ated. I know all the particulars from an authentic source, and will give them at another opportunity." These particulars were subsequently transmitted to his father, in the shape of authentic documents, under an injunction that they be returned immediately after perusal. They threw but little light, however, on the causes of the outrage. But the public feeling had probably been somewhat prepared to tolerate almost any species of violence by the exagger- ated reports of the iniquities practised in the convent. A Miss Reed, an inmate of the institution, had contrived to escape from what she considered an irksome bondage, and had made representa- tions, the sincerity of which was never doubted, and which were of course extremely grating to Protestant ears. But Miss Reed never manifested any mischievous spirit. Slie quietly sought the counsel of the rector of Christ Church, and carefully avoided saying any tiling that might excite public indignation. Injudicious and designing persons, however, took up the theme, and, by gross ex- aggeration and exciting appeals to the worst passions of man, no doubt brought about the disgraceful event. Miss Reed, in the mean time, embraced the Protestant faith, became a member, and died in the communion of the Protestant Episcopal Church.* The outrage * Miss Reed died on the 28th of February, 1838 ; and it is but simple jus- tice to record the followiiig authentic testimony of the manner in which she closed her eventful lite. It is transcribed fi-om a letter of March 5, in that year. " You have doubtless noticed in the papers the death of Miss Reed, formerly of the Ursuline community. She has been fading away with con- sumption for the last year. I was not aware of her situation till about two months since, and frequently visited her. Her mind was much weakened by disease, but her faith was clear and her hope bright. She was indeed anxious to dejmrt betbre her time came, and longed for death as a merciful release from a life of perturbation. I felt it my duty, under the solemnities of approaching death and judgment, to question her concerning the truth of her printed state- ment respecting the convent ; and she assured me, with deej) feeling, that it was, to the best of her knowledge, a faitliful record ; that she did not pretend that she had not been liable to error, but that she had not intentionally mis- represented a single circumstance. I did not need this declaration for my own satisfaction, tor I never doubted her design to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, with regard to her connection with the place, but thought it might hereafter be important, in order to put gainsayers to silence. In the 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 143 came near to producing the most fearful result. The excitement aniong the Irish Roman CathoHc population in Boston was tremen- dous, and revenge and retaliation were openly threatened by immense gatherings of these exasperated people. It required indeed all the energy and address of their bishop and resident priests to restrain the tumult, and persuade their followers to leave to the public authorities to punish the transgressors, and indemnify the sufferers for their loss. In dismissing the subject, it is but proper to say, that the offenders were never punished, nor the loss of property ever made up to the Romish Church. Mount Benedict, on which the building stood, remains naked and bare, and covered only with ruins, to tell a tale of reproach which a great and enlightened com- monwealth should be impatient to bear. In taking up again the golden thread which runs through the whole texture of his being, it is but natural to recur, with undis- guised satisfaction, to the flattering manner in which some of his earlier devotional poetry was brought, in a substantial form, before the public, blended, too, with a name as familiar as it is dear to the Christian world. He alludes to the subject in a letter of March 10, when, speaking of his friend Bishop Doane, he says, " He is getting out an edition of Keble's ' Christian Year,' and talks of gather- ing some of my favorite pieces in an appendix, ' that he may send us down to posterity together.' The Lord knows I have no poetical ambition ; and I wish I had no other, uidess, indeed, to help build up the purity and bliss of His Kingdom before I die." In due time the volume appeared, inscribed to the young poet in these kind and aftectionate terms : — " To MY NEXT Friend and moee than Brother, the Rev. William Croswell, Rector op Christ Church, Boston, these pious Breathings of a kindred spirit are most affectionately inscribed. g. w. d. " St. Mary's PARsoNAfiE, Bitrlingtok, May 27, 1834." Instead, however, of gathering these selected pieces in an appen- dix, they were mingled- in their appropriate places, with the explan- atory notes, illustrations, and additions with which the work was enriched. The first selection, a " Hymn for Advent," was intro- duced by this highly complimentary note : " The lines which follow obituary notice, in some of the papers, I was sorry to see the matter alluded to in any way, and especially in such unhappy phraseology. It would seem to a stranger as if the communion was administered to her as a sort of sacramental test or oath, whereas it was on a separate occasion, and some time previous. I should deprecate any revival of the public agitation with regard to her, and hope her ashes will be allowed to rest in quiet. She evinced great sweetness and purity of character during her whole sickness, and her last hovirs were very edifjing. Her departme was easy and full of peace. I attended her funeral at East Cambridge, on Friday." 144 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834. are from the pen of the beloved friend to whom this volume is inscribed. Its pages will afford other evidence of the justice with which his name has been associated with the honored name of Keble, as «a kindred spirit.' Were he aware of the designed association, liis gentle and retiring nature would, I know, forbid it. But one who, for nine years, was with him almost daily, and shared his secret thoughts, must claim to know him better than he knows himself; and he does not fear that Keble will not welcome the companionship." The other selections were " Christmas Eve," "Martyrdom of Stephen," " Epiphany," "De Profundis," "Clouds," and " The Ordinal." After the work had passed through the press, he writes, " Bishop Doane's edition of Keble is printed, but not published. I fear almost to see it. My own rhymes will appear very slim, I fear, in the contrast." In a letter of a later date, he says, " I have some copies of Keble's ' Christian Year,' presenta- tion gifts from the editor. Your son's name occurs in it more fre- quently than his modesty can approve." Writing, at the same time, to his friend. Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, Mass., he says, " My gratification at the republication of Keble would have been as entire and unmingled as yours, were my own name less conspicuously connected with it, and none of my rhymes brought into so disad- vantageous contrast. I am still so unsophisticated and unpractised in the arts of able authors, that I must blush at such undeserved praise. Of the productions of the editor's own pen, it gives me delight to join in the most unqualified commendation." The following pieces are drawn from various sources. They were probably written the present year, but in some few cases are without date. The subjoined impromptu was doubtless called forth by an excursion which he made to Nahant, August 11 ; and those who have ever visited that famous summer resort >\ill at once adtnowledge the perfect correctness of the sketch. NAHANT. Rocks, sands, and seas, What charms hast thou but these, O desolate Nahant ! Rocks, sands, and seas. Twelve grotesque cottages, And six storm-beaten trees. Struck all aslant ! But this is but an episode among more grave and solemn strains. The following are transcribed in the order in which they are found in his own manuscript collections. 1834.1 CHRIST CHUIICII. 145 FOX'S BOOK OF MARTYRS.* T well remember, from my earliest age, How, with a yearning heart, I loved to look, Old Chronicler, upon thy pictured page. That lent a glory to thy Martyrs' Book ; And as I saw the patient sufferers there. Like the three children in the furnace flame, Without a smell of fire, unsinged their hair, From year to year unaltered and the same, I thought that even martyrdom was light. And counted them as happy who endured A fire no fiercer than it seemed to sight. Of God's good will eternally secured ! Thus do we look on sufferings yet untried, Wliich man can only bear, when Heaven is on his side ! September, 1834. AFRICA. Princes shall come from Egypt, and The path of life be trod By myriads, when the Morian's land Shall stretch her hand to God ; Then Gush, and Ophir, and the sea No idle gifts shall bring. But soul and body both shall be Their grateful offering. The Ethiop may not change his skin, Nor leopard change his spot ; But God can work a change within, Though man observeth not. A holier dawn shall chase the night, And darkness pass away. And these shall also " walk in white,' In Heaven's eternal day. October, 1834. See Fuller's Mixed Contemplations, xxi. p. 92. 19 146 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1834. BAPTISMAL HYMN.* Let the infant soldier now With the hallowed cross be signed ; Bind the frontlet on his brow Time and death cannot unbind ! Words of earnest faith and prayer, Drops of consecrated dew, They can work a wonder there Earth's enchantments never knew. Happy mother ! sealed and blessed, To your arms your treasure take, With the Savior's mark impressed, Nurse it for the Savior's sake. So the holy work begin. Ever doing, never done, Till, redeemed from all our sin, Heaven's eternal crown be won. SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. The sparrow finds a home, The little bird a nest ; Deep in thy dwellings, Lord, they come. And fold their wings to rest. And shall ive be afraid Our little ones to bring Within thine ancient altar's shade, And underneath thy wing ! There, guard them as thine eye, There, keep them without spot, That when the Spoiler passeth by. Destruction touch them not. There, nerve their souls with might, There, nurse them with thy love. There, plume them for their final flight To blessedness above. * The reader should be apprised that this Hymn is not strictly original iu thought and sentiment, though the versification is all his own. It may be considered as rather a paraphrase of two stanzas of Keble's "Holy Baptism." 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 147 TO Fair child ! thou fillest mine eye M'ith tears, For thou carriest back my mind To the sinless days which the flight of years Has left so far behind : And I search my shrinking self to know How the spirit, so darkened now, Can be purged of its manhood's guilt and woe, And be pure once more as thou. Again, thou carriest on my thought To the vision of things before, When the last great battle with sin is fought, And the struggle of death is o'er ; For in vain our Heaven we hope to see, And our Savior undefiled, Till we learn his lesson of such as thee. And become like a little child ! Among the remaining- incidents of this year, there are few that require any full or special notice. He made an excursion home- wards, leaving Boston August 24, and, after stopping for two or three days at Brooklyn and Norwich, arrived at New Haven on the 28th. He expected to liave met his brother Sherman, that they might enjoy their visit together ; but in this lie was disappointed, for Sherman did not arrive until the moment when he was taking his seat for his return to Boston, on tlie 5th of September. He arrived at Boston on the 6th, and on the following day, Sunday, he says, "I officiated twice, besides administering tlie communion, and baptizing four children, and do not feel any uncommon degree of lassitude." Speaking incidentally of the accommodation stages, in contrast with those of tlie steamboat line, he remarks, " I have never, I am sure, so fully realized the force of what moralists have written ogainst the stage, and its dangerous and corrupting influences, as I did when dragging through the mud at three miles per hour, when the rain made the night as dark as Egypt, and the proprietors could not afford lights, crowded in with nine passengers, some of whom would infect a whole community, and all curtained down, to make them the more redolent. O, it has a dreadful effect upon the temper." He proceeds to speak of a subject in which lie felt deeply interested : " They have set to work to repair the old church in real earnest. The steeple is invested with scaflfolding, and the cellar of the new vestry almost excavated. The business is going on with 148 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834. great spirit in both parts, and will soon be completed. Think of our weathercock weighing one hundred and sixteen pounds, and more than six feet long — not so light a matter as weathercocks generally are supposed to be ! " On the 12th he notes in his diary, " Wrote something to put in the hall of the steeple, arranged in the shape of a cross." Of this composition no copy can be found. In his diary of November 3, and his letter of the same date, he speaks of the sickness of his friend Doane, and of his expectation of an immediate summons to attend him ; and the information received the following day induced him to proceed without delay. He left Boston for Burlington by way of Providence ; and his next letter is dated at Burlington, November 7, and gives a particular account of the severe attack by which the bishop's strength was prostrated. He was now, however, convalescent, with every pros- pect of a speedy and complete recovery. " To-day," he says, " being, I believe, my thirtieth birthday, and a glorious day indeed for the season, he has walked out with me, for the first time, besides taking a ride of an hour in the carriage of one of his excel- lent neighbors." Before he closes this letter, he adds, "Notwith- standing the illness of the bishop, he managed to write me a tender and atiectionate sonnet on my thirtieth birthday, in a little pres- entatit>n volume of Coleridge's poetry." It is here transcribed, as exceedingly creditable to both parties. "PERENNIS ET FRAGRANS." William, my brother and my bosom friend ! For thrice ten years the sun, this blessed day, Has lighted thee along hfe's checkered way, Serene and placid towards thy journey's end. One third the distance we have trod together, Hand grasping hand, and heart enclosed in heart, Each of the other's life, breath, being, part, Breasting as one time's rough and rugged weather. Poet and Priest, as in thy face I look. So full of thought, so tranquil, so benign, With pride of soul to hail thee friend of mine, I greet thee with the legend of this book : — " Fragrant and lasting " be thy memory here, And then a fadeless crown through heaven's immortal year ! G. W. D. He was compelled, while on this mission of love and sympathy, to pass by New Haven, and return to his duties. After apologizing 1834.] CHllIST CHCJKCII. 149 for this omission, he details some interesting' particulars toiicliing his domestic and parocliial rehitions, and thus closes a letter of November 23: " My feet have stood in the courts of the Lord's house thrice this day, and thrice have I opened my mouth hetween the porch and the altar, none having ministered for me in tlie order of my course. I am fresh, as if I had had nothing to do." On the week following he details the same amount of services ; and then, again, on the 9th of Decemher, he writes, " I had rather a severe drauglit upon my capabilities on Sunday. After preparing and preaching a funeral sermon duriug the week, my three services and both sacraments came near to exhausting me. My strength, however, was sufficient, by the grace of God, and not only held out, but left me much less weak and weary to-day than I could have anticipated. I shall be as moderate as I can, and reserve my remaining force, when I most expect to need it, for Christmas and the accompanying festivals. ... I rejoice greatly in the ac- counts of your prosperity. May it be ever so. And whether all things be ordered according to our wishes, the Lord give us grace to possess our souls in submission to his gracious will. My own affairs continue to be promising, and I am most grateful that the interests committed to me have not apparently suffered in my hands. I trust it will ever be the first desire of my heart, that I may be able to answer wy;h a good conscience for tlie awful account of souls, and render that account with joy, and not with grief. Pray for me, even as I also do for you." In a subsequent letter, after speaking in terms of high commen- dation of a neat little periodical, issued by Bishop Doane, entitled The Missionary, he intimates his own intentions with regard to the future productions of his pen : " In the department of sacred poe- try, I shall lay myself out more than I have done. I am frequently applied to by my friends to make a collection of my verses, but have no ambition to court criticism, or stir up the malicious tribe of rival geniuses to speak all manner of evil against me falsely. I should like, however, to have them preserved in the family, and shall be obliged to you to insert in the volumes which were sent to you any occasional effiision which you know to be mine. I keep a record of all wl)ich I have written recently, which I will bring with me on my next visit, and complete your edition." it is to be regretted that these collections and records have not been found as full and complete as could have been desired. From various sources, however, may be gathered nearly all that will be necessary to satisfy his friends. A few more selections will fill up the record for the present year. The following hues were sent to his mother, near the close of the year, accompanied by a note demonstrating his truly filial affection 150 MEMOIR OF WILLIAIM CROSWELL. [1834. and veneration : " I trust these lines will not be unacceptable, as a token that you are in the multitude of my best thoughts and prayers and feelings. I only wish you were there to as much purpose as I know I am in yours. 1 have not stopped to consider whether they are good poetry ; but I know that the sentiment is true, and that assurance will be worth more to you than any thing else." TO MY MOTHER. My mother ! many a burning word Would not suffice the love to tell With which my inmost soul is stirred, As thoughts of thee my bosom swell : But better I should ill express The passion thus, than leave untold The glow of filial tenderness Which never in my heart grows cold. Oft, as I muse o'er all the wrong, The silent grief, the secret pain, My froward youth has caused, I long To live my childhood o'er again ; And yet they were not all in vain, The lessons which thy love then taught ; Nor always has it dormant lain. The fire from thy example caught. And now, as feelings all divine' With deepest power my spirit touch, I feel as if some prayer of thine. My mother ! were availing much. And thus availing, more and more, O, be it thine, in bliss, to see The hopes with which thy heart runs o'er, In fondest hour, fulfilled in me ! It was at the close of this year that he commenced a series of Hymns, which he styles the " Horology, or Dial of Prayer," with the following general caption and appropriate motto : — 1834.] C:TIRIST CHTTRrH ISl HYMNS OF THE ANCIENT TIME. • dcsirpth new ; for he saith, The old is better." HOROLOGY, OR DIAL OF PRAYER. Thou who hast put the times and seasons in thine own power. Acts i. 7. Grant that we may pray unto thee in a fit and acceptable time. Psalm Ixix. 13. O Savior ! I would spend the hours Canonical with Thee, As tolls the clock from yonder towers At nine, and twelve, and three ; At primes, and lauds, and matin bell, And compline, rise and pray, And tell my blessed rosary At the decline of day. At vespers, and at nocturns late, When suns have ceased to shine, On my devotion's dial plate Still shed thy light divine ; And as the holy vigil yields In turn to holy dream, O, let my Savior be through all My glory and ray theme. I, MIDNIGHT HYMN. " At midnight I will rise to give thanks unto thee." Kmg David. " And at midnight, Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto God ; and the prisoners heard them." Acts of the Holy Apostles. Thy praises. Lord, at midnight broke Through chambers where a monarch woke ; Thy midnight praise, with choral swell. Rang through the chained Apostles' cell ; Alike to thee each place was made, In palace or in prison laid ; The royal pomps, the grated door. The captive and the conqueror. So grant us. Lord, a song of power To charm away the midnight hour ; 152 MEMOIE OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. In prosperous state be ours to sing- In spirit with the Minstrel King ; And cheer us, when our hopes are dim, As with thy servants' dungeon hymn ; And when our watch, like theirs, is done, May worlds, without a night, be won. n. COCK CROWING. " And immediately, while he yet apake, the cock crew ; and the Lord turned and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had eaid unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shall deny me thrice. And Peter went out and wept bitterly." * Gospel, The Eye that softened as it smote, While crew the cock, with mighty spell, Far through the maddening crowd remote, Upon his shrinking servant fell ; Then woke the guilty shame within. And conscience, which so long had slept ; And He alone who knew the sin, Could know how bitterly he wept. If, Master, we thy cause betray, Ofl as the cock repeats its call, Turn not thy piercing eye away Till we are conscious of our fall. Like Peter, let us weep alone In sorrow, secret as sincere. Till Thou, to whom our griefs are known, Shalt dry the penitential tear ! ni. NOONDAY. " Now Jacob's well was there : Jesus, therefore, being wearied with his joui* ney, sat thus on the well, aud it was about the sixth hour." t QospeL O Thou, who, in the languid noon. By Sychar's well, didst open wide * " It appears, from a passage of the Talmud, that domestic fowls were not tolerated in Jerusalem ; and admitting its authority to be indisputable, it will not be difficult to reconcile this fact with the record of the Evangelists. For as the palace of Caiajihas was at no great distance from the suburbs, the crow- ing of a cock Avithout the walls might be clearly heard in the stillness of tlu^ evening. Unusual as it may have been, the scream of an eagle would not have more startled the ear of the apostate Apostle." Middleton, Greek Article, p. 1-13. t In the time of our Savior, the day was divided into twelve hours, equal to 1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. To wondering eyes a better boon Than e'er tlieir fathers' fount supplied ; Up, where thy brightest glories burn, Our fainting souls, at every stage, For thy celestial succor turn, In this, our weary pilgrimage ! When, from the sun's meridian glow, We seek refreshment and repose. Do Thou thy heavenly gifts bestow, And all the stores of life unclose ; Thence, quench the fervid spirit's thirst, Thence, fill us as with angel's food, Till, day by day, our souls are nursed For their divine beatitude ! IV. ANOTHER FOR NOONDAY. "Peter went up upon the house top to pray, about the sixth hour; and he became very hungry, and would have eaten ; but while they made ready, he fell into a trance, and saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending unto him, as it had been a great sheet, knit at the four comers, and let Jown to the earth." Acts of the Apostles. Though on the house top, Lord, unseen, How oft, at noon, I fain would rise, Where nought of earth could come between My lifted spirit and the skies ! But short the conquest over sense ; On rapture's wing though high we soar, Too soon the fleshly influence Resumes its reign, and dreams are o'er. Yet still the Church, let down to earth, Without a trance, 'tis ours to see, Where, cleansed from stain of mortal birth. In Jesus' blood we all may be. There may the soul its work complete. And with the hosts of men forgiven, Enveloped in that mighty sheet. Be safely taken up to Heaven. each other, but unequal with respect to tlie different seasons of the year. Tlie sixth, of co\irse, was at all times answerable to noon. 20 154 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSAVELL. -1834. V. NINTH HOUR, THREE O'CLOCK, P. M. TIME OF DAILY EVENING SERVICE. " Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer, being the ninth hour ; and a certain man, lame from his mother's womb, was carried, whom they laid daily at the gate of the temple which is called Beau- tiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple." Acts of the ApoatP". How dear to those on God who wait, The paths which to his dwelling lead ! And every Christian temple gate, Is it not Beautiful indeed ? For there our holiest joys unfold, And trains of lovelier graces fill These lowly courts, than when of old His sole abode was Zion's Hill. O, as thou enterest in, be sure To try the spirit of thy mind ; Ask if its love to God be pure, And true its love to humankind. Bring Faith, and Hope ; and be Thou nigh, The best and greatest of the three, Binding in one delightful tie All heaven and earth, sweet Charity ! VI. EVENTIDE. " And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide; and he lifted np lus eyes, and saw, and behold, the camels were coming." Beneath the shade of pensive eve. By Heaven impelled, the patriarch's mind Could wander from itself, and leave The grovelling cares of life behind. Led by the same almighty love, When all below is dark and dull, We still may rise to scenes above, Where all is bright and beautiful. Our souls may go as Isaac went, And find, each eve, a lovelier field Than e'en the gorgeous Orient To his enraptured sense could yield. 1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. Id5 And while, in meditation sweet, We seem to breathe a heavenlier air, All that we most desire to meet Shall bless our longing vision there. 1835. The record of this year will be drawn chiefly from his corre- spondence, and, with few exceptions, from his letters to his father, with occasional references to his daily journal. These extracts must necessarily be brief, and may often seem desultory and dis- jointed, from the constant intervention of private and familiar allu- sions, which are not suitable for transcribing. No more is selected than may be properly introduced for the purpose of developing the abiding and prevailing sentiments of his mind, and the leading traits of his character. In the first letter of the year, January 5, after speaking of the extreme severity of the winter, he says, " I have every thing to make me warm and comfortable, and am healthy and hearty ; but this cold weather stupefies and benumbs my intellect, and I cannot get on well with my headwork. I do not rise very early ; but I am up till midnight, and do the best I can to keep up with the time of day. I am growing less and less in love with our northern win- ters, though they have never harmed me, and I have a perpetual summer in my chamber, where the anthracite is always in a glow." But here, amid these expressions of self-content, his thoughts are instantly called to the suffering poor, among whom he took his daily rounds, and to whose comfort and sustenance he was constantly ministering ; and he proceeds :. " But then one cannot always keep in his chamber, or in his own house ; and if he suffers as he ought with those whose suffferings he sees, his mind and thoughts are filled with dismal imagery." To show that he was not unfavorably affected by his duties, he adds, " Three services, and a wedding, were all that I had for my share yesterday ; and I felt, after I had finished, as if I was fresh and ready for as many more." But there is another portion of this letter which may be alluded to as furnishing a keynote to a series of transactions, which, how- ever annoying and vexatious to the rector of Christ Church, served, at the same time, to call out the latent energies of his mind, and to show the firmness and decision with which he ever stood ready to repel any temptation to a departure from what he considered the 156 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL, [1835. line of conscientious and religious duty. After remarking pleasantly that " all the rest of the week was a kind of a monotone," he pro- ceeds, " We have a rapturous tune, however, in prospect, to he rung from all the chords — wnung, I should have said — and the great musician at Church is to lead the choir, and all the charac- ters in Collins's Ode on the Passions are to administer at turns. To come out from the obscure and figurative, the Convocation assemble at brother 's church for divine services and sermons Wednesday, Tluirsday, and Friday. This is not, perhaps, so strange ; but it is a truth, and one stranger than fiction, that I am most graciously invited to attend. Gramercy for your goodness, gentle sirs ! I have not concluded what order I shall take ; whether to let the invitation go by default, or to give the why and the where- fore. It is of very little consequence which. After the marked exclusion from the company for more than eighteen months, the burden rests with them to explain the reason of this change. Jam unaltered and the same, and, by the grace of God, will so remain ; for, in truth, 1 should consult my inclination as little as my self- respect in uniting witli their assembly. If I say any thing to them, it will be in the spirit of Johnson to Chesterfield : ' The notice which you have been pleased to take of me, had it been early, Jiad been kind. But it has been delayed, till 1 am indifferent, and can- not enjoy it ; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am known, and do not want it.'" Such an answer, as appears from a subsequent letter, was drawn up; but on reflection, he felt reluctant to repel, by an unkind rebuke, an act of seeming civility ; and after consulting some of his clerical friends, who had also now been invited for the first time to attend the meeting, it was concluded to accept the invitation. Accordingly, he says, " We made our appear- ance on the first evening. The following day found me there also, and at evening again I was not missing. After services, Mr. approached me, said the Convocation had brought a certain enter- prise to a certain point, and would like to have Dr. W. and myself meet, and consult with them, the next morning. Determined not to fail in receiving any distinct overture, and make myself thereby obnoxious to the charge of separating myself from these pious men, I agreed accordingly. We found them next day in solemn con- clave. Their specimen number [of a periodical, to be called the Christian Witness] was all ready to be issued ; and Mr. asked our concurrence and countenance. The doctor and 1 said, in general, that any periodical which went to set forth the Gospel in the Church would have our patronage and approbation, from whatever quarter it issued. But I was carefid to add, that whether the course wliich had been pursued was such as was calculated to conciliate the confidence of tlie whole body of our clergy, they were 183,5.] CimiST CHURCH. 157 as competent to decide as ourselves. And here the subject was about to be left ; and if it had, the result would have boon most unhappy ; the object obviously being to force tlie thing upon us, and stop our mouths afterwards with the pretence that an opportu- nity had been afforded us of expressing our opinion, and that the project had received our assent. At tliis juncture, I set fire to a train, which produced an instantaneous explosion, by asking Mr. if he had not given me to understand that my exclusion from the Convocation was not the result of accident, but design. The battle being thus opened, the fire was hot and heavy ; and the fear of man passed away in an instant, and I boldly withstood them to the face. I doubt whether they ever heard the truth more plainly spoken ; and I was hajjpy to find the doctor sustaining me manfully in every position. . . . After delivering our message, we shook off the dust from our feet, and departed." With the exception of an occasional remark, nothing more is said during the year, either in his diary or letters, of the Christian Witness. It was considered as the organ of a ])arty or clique known as the "Convocation," and never secured the confidence of the whole body of the clergy, either in or out of the diocese. In a letter of .January 19, after touching in a pleasant manner upon various topics, he thus recurs, in his habitual spirit of humility and devotion, to the approaching anniversary of his ordination : "Next Sunday, St. Paul's day, is the anniversary, as you are aware, of my being set apart to the work of the ministry, six years ago ; an interval that seems like a dream, like a tale that is told, hut full of the momentous items upon w Inch stands our account for eternity. I would renew the dedication of myself, soul, body, and spirit, to this service, and endeavor, in the coming hours that may yet be granted me, more faithfully to redeem the time, and labor to perfect holiness. Let me have the benefit of your especial prayer on the noon of that day, and let our spirits meet before the throne of grace in my behalf. ... I cannot close till I have congratu- lated you on the favorable circumstances and great encouragements with which your labors continue to be blessed. The meridian of your usefulness is not yet passed, as I hope, nor your sun on the decline. May it grow more and n>ore golden towards its set, and so give promise of the glorious dawn to-morrow." This extract is given as a suitable introduction to the following beautiful stanzas, written in Christ Church, on St. Paul's day, at noon, and sent to the Missionary, for publication. 168 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835. ST. PAUL'S DAY. " At midday, O king, I saw in the way a liglit from heaven, above the bright- ness of the sun, shining round about me and them which journeyed with me. Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision." How swift the years have come and gone, since, on this blessed day, A victim at the altar's horn, I gave myself away ; And streaming through the honse of God a glory seemed to shine, Invisible to other eyes, but manifest to mine. It was not in his terrors clad, nor with those tokens dire, The rushing of the whirlwind's wing, the earthquake, and the fire, Nor yet amid the blasting blaze that makes the sunshine dim, And pales the ineifectual beams that minister to Him. Serene was that effulgent noon, and gladdening was the ray, Which made a heavenly vision there I could not disobey ; And gentle those subduing tones which soothed and tempered all. As with the holy harmony of voices still and small. 0 father, mother, brethren, "friends, no less than brethren dear!" Who promised, at this solemn hour, to be in spirit near, Say, is it not your influence in blended prayer I feel. As now before the mercy seat from many shrines we kneel ? 1 would my heart might ever thus dissolve with fervent heat, As here, " fast by the oracle," the service I repeat ; That even in my inmost soul the same rejoicing light Might burn, like Zion's altar flame, unquenchable and bright. From the following extract, under date of January 26, it is evident that the notoriety which he had already attained, as a writer of poetry, was not of his own .seeking. But it would be worse than affectation to say that he was not pleased with the flattering commen- dations which he received from time to time, and especially when they came from unexpected quarters. He had more tlian once, as is well known, resolved to tlirovv aside his lyre, and stifle his passion for verse. But every new stimulus again kindled up tlie j)oetic flame, and it was never wholly extinguished, but continued to burn brightly to the end of his days. The Missionary, after its establislmient in New Jersey, became, by the earnest solicitations of his friend the bishop, the general medium of his communications. " If I am vain of any of my gifts, I did not intend that any body should know it, and have tried to subdue the influence of all my weaknesses by prayer and supplication. I am, however, sorely tempted to think 1835.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 159 more highly of myself than I oufflit to think, when, for instance, I receive from Athenian missionaries, in tlie heart of the land of classic song, a letter vvith such a passage as this : ' Why is it that I no longer see the eft'usions from your pen in such of the religious periodicals as occasionally reach us ? Have you abandoned your lyre, to devote yourself more entirely to the duties of the pulpit ? I think that you possess so much of the poetic vein, that you may safely indulge in it from time to time, without its interfering with more serious and sacred duties. Nay, when the subjects are appro- priate,— as yours were wont to be, — you may thus at once both aid and grace the cause of our blessed Redeemer. Our language is not yet rich in the songs of Zion. Even in Germany, where the language has been for a much shorter time cultivated than that in which Milton and Cowper sang, they can exhibit a much larger col- lection of sacred poesy than ourselves, qualified to stand the test of candid criticism. I have lately seen an octavo volume of Hymns, of five or six hundred pages, in German, selected by the present Prussian ambassador at Rome, a pious man, who exerts himself for the cause of the gospel. I hope to see poetry enlisted as an able auxiliary in the diftusion of religious feeling in our favored coun- try ; and I feel that you possess a talent of this description which ought not to be neglected. Let me give you a theme, which may aid even our missions here : the renovation of the ancient Church of Greece. It will indeed be a blessed and glorious day when she shall resume her pristine beauty and purity. She will once more become a means of diffusing light, the light of gospel truth, to nations now sitting in the valley of the shadow of death. She would be admi- rably qualified to convey the humbling and purifying lessons of the gospel to the proud and sensual Mahometan, and to gain victo- ries over her old tyrant, bloodless indeed, but far more to her praise than any which her sons have hitherto achieved,' &c. This is more than I expected or deserved from any quarter, and least of all from our missionary in Greece. I have long had my mind upon the very topic to which he alludes ; and a letter of Fenelon, written while he contemplated a mission himself to those parts, which I was reading a few days since, fired me with enthusiasm to set about it." His letters of the month of February partake of the general character of all his correspondence. Like other studious men, he had his alternations of elevated and depressed spirits, and these were transfused into his familiar communications with his friends. In the same letter, he would speak with grateful animation of the amazing amount of labor which he had been enabled, by the help of God, to accomplish, and then turn despondingly to the frequent recur- rence of headache and vertigo, which but too often followed liis exertions. His letters, as well as many of his sermons, and much 160 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWTILL. [1835. of his poetry, were written chiefly at night and very early in the morning, while his days were consumed with calls at home, in visits among his parishioners, — especially the sick, needy, and afflicted, — and with responses to the constant invitations of hospi- tality and kindness. Reflecting upon these multifarious demands upon his time and his bodily and mental powers, it is not strange that he should sometimes feel as if his burden were greater than he could sustain. And, at such times, it is not surprising that he should sometimes feelingly adopt the sentiment of his favorite poet. "I long more and more," he says, "for some snug retire- ment, where from the loopholes of retreat I may peep at the world, see the great Babel, and not feel its stir." And, with the devout and contemplative habits of his mind, it might be expected that few letters would pass from his hands without some serious reflections. For example, such sentiments as these are constantly recurring. Speaking of the death of a young lady whom he had known when a child, and with whose family he had been intimately associated, he says, " The going out of the lights of that pleasant household, one after another, is among the associations which throw a melan- choly shadow over the scenes of my earlier years. When I count up the names of those of our own family connections and familiar friends, who, though ' not dead,' are ' gone before,' it seems as if the majority, with whom I commenced the career of life, are already on the other side of the grave. May I make a profita- ble use of the solemn consideration, and so number my own days that remain that I may apply my heart unto wisdom." He pro- ceeds to speak thus, in a strain of filial confidence : " I often think that I can well remember when you were but a few years older than I am now, and when I looked up to you as a man of many days, and what an infinite interval it seemed in prospect before I should arrive at the same age. But our years are brought to an end, like a tale that is told ; and I look back with astonishment and wonder at this period, uj)on all that is past ; so much of life elapsed like a dream, and so little accomplished. Time has not brought with it the maturity of mind upon which I had reckoned ; and though a man in years, I am still a boy at heart. This, however, is doubtless as it should be. Whatever advances we may make intellectually, in other respects, such as disposition, dependence, and docility, we cannot safely allow one particle of our childlike traits of character to wear oft" and be outgrown, for ' of such is the king- dom of heaven.' Here is comfort, when perhaps I might otherwise have reproached myself with weakness." But while such senti- ments are transcribed, the impression ought not to be conveyed that he was fond of cherishing sad and gloomy thoughts. He was among the most cheerful of men ; and he was capable of turning away from the most melancholy musings to a style of vivacity 1835.] CmilST CIIURCH. 161 sufficient to show tliat liis bosom was a fountain of sweet serenity and joy, and that he coukl at all times, by his genial playfulness, light up a smile upon the face of his correspondents and associates. On the verv page where he could melt the heart by the tenderest allusions, he could speak with unaffiscted modesty of a " silly Valen- tine," which he had sent for publication in the Albany Argus. Of the Valentine itself the reader must judge whether he has not him- self spoken too lightly. VALENTINE. Again the " fated hours " have come, As holy legends tell, When Valentine in martyrdom A blessed victim fell ; And doubt thou not, one wish of thine, O gentle maid I would make, This day, thy chosen Valentine, A martyr for thy sake. By ice and snow though severed wide. Nought else, O maiden true ! Of cold or distance shall divide Between myself and you ; Though many a bond in sunder parts. Snapped by this frosty weather, It shall but keep two loving hearts Still closer bound together. W. St. Valentine's Eve, February 13, 1835. There is an anecdote connected with the publication of this Val- entine in the Albany Argus, which attorded some amusement at the time, and which need not be suppressed. A lady, or one affecting the handwriting of a lady, imputing the authorship to a gallant bachelor in the State legislature, whose initial was VV., and who was known to have some genius for versemaking, addressed to him, on the succeeding day, the following response : — A VALENTINE FOR «W." Saint Valentine's glorious death Had, doubtless, its struggles and pains, Yet who would not give up her breath. To live evermore in your strains ? 21 162 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSAVELL. [1835. Sweet bard ! may the gods keep your vows, Nor coldness nor distance long trouble you ; But O, should you sigh for a spouse, Ten thousand would hasten to " W." Then why o'er the snow banks go wooing, In strains little less than divine, When, near you, your muse is subduing The heart of a true Vale.vtine ? The following lines were addressed to the Rev. Dr. Thomas W. CoiT, on occasion of his election to the presidency of Transylvania University, Kentucky. TO THE REY. DR. COIT. With hope and courage unrepressed. Go, follow where the orb of day And Empire's Star, both tending west, Have pointed out thy brightening way ; •And from our dwellings by the sea Beyond the mountain barriers bear The bonds which sacred sympathy Hath sanctified by many a prayer. And when thy steps are safely led By mighty marge of rivers wide. Which, like an earth-born giant, spread * Their thirsty arms on every side, O, let their waters, as they glide Resistless on, thine emblem be — A stream of many thousand tides Against the Truth's great enemy. W. C. March 1, 1835. On the 3d of March he had a severe attack of sickness, and was compelled, after an ineffectual attempt to throw off the disease by simple remedies, to call in the aid of a physician. He passed through the usual treatment, and was so far relieved within a short time as to be able again to resume the pen, and convey to his father ' And Trent, like an earth-born giant, spreads His thirsty arms along th' indented meads." Milton, Vacation Exercise. 1835.] CHEIST CHURCH. 163 a daily bulletin of his condition. Tliese brief notes are fair expo- nents of the remarkable buoyancy of his spirits, and of his cheerful- ness and contentment, under tiie hand of providential chastisement. In his letter of March 8, he says, " As I have never concealed any thing- from you with regard to my health, so I will not do so now." Afte'i- describing the nature of the attack, and its treatment, he adds, " It has left me rather weak, though I am entirely free from all disease, and perform almost every function but that of eating and writing, with regard to which I am obliged to keep Lent very strictly, and practise almost total abstinence. I do not say these things to alarm, but to account for my brevity. I beg you will not give yourselves any uneasiness on account of it. I expect to be about, out of doors, in a day or two, and shall take the first oppor- tunity of setting my face homeward. . . . You shall have a bulletin from me daily, keeping you informed of the true state of the case." Accordingly, on the day following, affecting the usual style of such despatches, and speaking in the third person, he gives assurances of lus improvement, and gratefully acknowledges the kindness and attention, not only of his excellent hostess, but also of the " troops of friends " by whom he was surrounded, and who were assiduous in their efforts to minister to his comfort. He hopes, by the help of God, to give a still more favorable report the next day, and speaks of his mind as " full and alive with all manner of ideas and imagery, like a quiver full of arrows ; but," he says, he » has not yet quite strength to draw the bow that shall send them." On the 10th, after speaking pleasantly of the parting call of his physician, of his continued improvement, and especially of the enjoyment drawn from his books, he adds, " As a thankoffering to Him who has raised me from the threatenings of disease, I have subscribed a hundred dollars for the Seabury professorship, [in the College, now Trinity, at Hartford.] I have drawn, as usual, upon the Bank of Faith, and trust, that, by self-denial and frugality on my part, it will not fail me. Such expenditures as this have never yet impoverished me, but have been attended with a literal and liberal recompense, in some way upon which I had not counted. As done with an eye to the glory of God, I hope it will not perish among the works burnt up." He thus closes his daily reports ; and his next letter is dated on Sunday evening, March 15, in which he says, " The fine weather of the last two or three days has helped me along exceedingly. Yesterday I rode out, for the first time, in a close carriage, as far as Roxbury. To-day I felt so far restored to health of body, vigor of mind, and cheerfulness of spirit, that I was able to go to the house of God, to ofter him an oblation with great gladness, and to bless his holy name for all his goodness towards me, through Jesus Christ our Savior." There are in his correspondence, at this period, several allusions 164 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835. to a probable change of his pastoral relations. In one of his let- ters, written during; his sickness, he expresses his intention, after his recovery, of consulting the wardens of his church on the expediency of resigning his charge at Easter, " simply," he says, " because I think somebody else would do better here, and I should do better somewhere else." Within a few days, however, he wrote to this effect : " My friends have shown me marvellous great kindness during my illness, and I shall find it harder than ever to separate the bond which binds us together." Subsequently he writes, " I have not had much conversation on the subject of my resignation. I mentioned it to my junior warden; but he begged me to defer its consideration till I had quite recovered, and desired me to say noth- ing to his coadjutor unless my mind was unalterably made up." After this, the subject appears to have been dropped for a time ; and as his proposed journey homeward was deferred, princi])ally on account of the unsettled state of the weather, he began gradually to resume his public services. On the first Sunday of April, he was able to administer the connnunion in the morning, and to preach in the afternoon, besides performing some other official duties. In a letter of the 4th of May, after congratulating his father on the pleasant and harmonious settlement of an assistant, which had been effected in his parish at New Haven, he proceeds : " Every thing connected with our parish looks very promisingly at present, and I hope the whole diocese will soon wear a more cheerful aspect. The bishop has called us together on Wednesday, to see if any thing can be proposed to enlarge the Convocation, so as to include us all, and promote a better understanding. We shall be int'lined to go a great way for the sake of peace ; and if our propositions are well received, there will be no difficulty. Most of the members of the Convocation would regard such a union favorably." On the 11th he gives an account of this meeting, a portion of which is transcribed as a perfectly satisfactory vindication of his own posi- tion. "Preliminary to it," he says, "the bishop called us together, — all, without exception, though but ?e\\ answered the summons, — to see if any thing could be done to promote harmony. A com- mittee was chosen to report measures ; I was one ; and we had half an hour to report in. I told them that consistency left me but one course to pursue, but that I would oppose no obstacle to any proposition which united the majority." After a few sharp passages between the different members of the committee, which it is unne- cessary to detail, it was proposed to report, that, " if the bishoj) was desirous that his clergy should unite in the Convocation, and would distinctly express his desires, it should be made a ground of rec- ommendation to each of them to join the Convocation, if he consci- entiously could. The report was accepted. The next day we were admitted to the business meetings, and heard the constitution and 1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 165 by-laws read. Dr.s. and saw their way clear to give in their adhesion ; but I declined. My objections are such as have always operated so strongly on my mind — its exclusiveness, its interference by its missionary plans with the episcopal preroj 14, 1836. «'Rev. and dear Sir: It is just a week to-day since I received your favor of the 2d inst., enclosing an invitation to become assist- ant minister of All Saints' Church, New York, from the rector, wardens, and vestry of the same, together with a letter from their committee, in which you all most cordially unite to urge it upon my acceptance. I should do violence to my feelings, if I did not expi-ess the deep and grateful impressions which this testimonial of your confidence and regard has made upon my mind ; and I assure you, that during this whole time it has occupied my constant and serious deliberation. For reasons, however, with which it will not be necessary to trouble you in detail, I have come to the con- clusion that it is my duty to decline. Suffice it to say, that they grow not less out of the consideration of the pleasant nature of my present parochial relations, than from a consciousness of my pecu- liar inaptitude for such a situation as the meridian of New York. It is doubtless true, as you observe, that a parish there presents a sphere of usefulness superior to almost any other; but I feel a deep conviction of my deficiency in those qualifications which I conceive to be absolutely indispensable to ministerial usefulness in such a situation. The noise and bustle of your great city confuses and distracts me ; and the stirring spirit which you require is so dift'er- ent from any thing which has been called into exercise in this ancient and quiet abode, where unsophisticated simplicity could hardly be surpassed in any rural cure, and afibrds me many of the advantages of nis in urhe. In declining the invitation, therefore, I trust I have been as mindful of what was due to you and your parish, as to me and mine ; and with the value which I am disposed, after some years' experience, to put upon my own services, I am perfectly convinced that their loss at Christ Church >vould be much greater that their gain could possibly be at All Saints. " liCt me assure you. Rev. and dear sir, that I feel greatly indebted to you for the consideration of personal preference which led to your nomination of myself as your assistant, and hope to see you, at some early day, face to face, and make some fidler acknowledgment of the obligation. In the mean while, accept my best wishes that your attention may be directed to the selection of some brother more apt and meet to cooperate with you in promot- ing the spiritual welfare of your flock, and that you and they may long continue to rejoice together. " With great respect, yours truly, "W. CROSWELL. «< To the Ilev. William A. Clakk." 1836.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 187 "Boston, May 14, 1836. "Gentlemen: I have receivttl a communication, bearing date New York, April 2.5, 1836, in which the rector, wardens, and vestry of All Saints' Church, agreeably to the nomination of the rector, and the approval of the board of the vestry, legally convened, invite me to become the assistant minister of said church. This is accom- panied with the earnest personal solicitation of your respected rector, and a letter from yourselves, as committee of the board, expressing the most anxious desire that I should entertain a favora- ble view of your wishes. I am also given to understand that the proposed arrangement is in accordance with the wishes of the con- gregation generally, and receives the countenance and support of your excellent diopesan. I should be insensible not to feel that you have done me undeserved honor ; and I beg leave to assure you personally, and through you the highly respectable body of gentle- men, whom I yet know only by their signatures, tiiaf^nothing could be more gratifying than such an evidence of their good opinion, or more satisfactory than the terms in which it is conveyed ; nor can I doubt, that were I at liberty to accept, it would be a pleasure and a privilege to be associated with them in the pastoral connection. At the same time, I should be undeserving of this expression of your regard, if I were lightly to sever the sacred and endearing ties which bind me to my present cure. As I have been anxious to avoid disturbing the minds of our own people unnecessarily, I have not communicated with them on the subject, and indeed have en- deavored to form my conclusions without consulting with flesh and blood. In the mean time, 1 have received so many fresh and spon- taneous evidences of the prevalence of the very best spirit on their part, and receive them as such clear indications of duty, that I should not feel justified at present in giving encouragement to any propo- sals of change whatever. For these reasons, and others alluded to in my letter of this date to your respected rector, I must beg leave to decline the invitation which you have done me the honor to offer, and to express the hope that you may be directed, with the same unanimity in your counsels, to a wiser and better choice. " I hope I have not kept the parish in unnecessary suspense by any seeming delay in making this connnunication. It is but a single week since your papers were before me ; and a less time for con- sidering and deciding the question would hardly have been consistent with the respect which was due to those who made the call, and tlie importance of the decision to all the parties interested. . . . " To ^lessrs. Pixckney, Walton, and Hanfokd, Committee, &c." On the 16th he writes to his father, " I have sent my letters, declining the invitation to All Saints' ; and they sound so pleasantly, as a friend observes, that they will be naturally desirous to have me 188 IMEMOm OF ^T;LLIAM CR0S'\\TELL. [1836. decline again. If my refusal be so satisfactory, I am almost afraid to ask what my accejitance would #e. Meanwhile, my own peculiar people have been showing themselves zealous of good works. With- out knowing any thing of what had transpired with respect to All Saints', and without the slightest desire or expectation on my part, they have voluntarily given me the best proof of their regard and attachment, which, under the circumstances of the parish, it was in their power to bestow — by raising my salary. I have not yet suffi- ciently recovered from my surprise to decide how I shall dispose of my surplus revenue, but think it probable that no small portion of it will go to patronize the public conveyances that will bring me, in the shortest possible time, to New Haven." This ver}^ reasonable suggestion was not forgotten, though his anticipated visit homeward was necessarily deferred for a few weeks. In the mean time, he dates from the "cloisters," and writes in his accustomed free and easy style. June 21, he says, " The consecra- tion of Grace Church, and the services connected with the Conven- tion, have passed off very pleasantly. I cannot complain of not having had my share of honor and attention. Besides being assigned to a part in the consecration, I was subsequently appointed preacher to the next Convention, and a member of the standing committee. I am not sure, also, that I do not figure among the trustees of the seminary and on the board of missions. I was not present at the closing scenes of the Convention, when these appointments were made, and have seen no one who could tell me much about it. The smallest favor thankfully received, and duly acknowledged. I have not aspired to these distinctions ; but, like the hero of two wars, — if so great things may be likened to small, — I shall act upon the simple principle, that ' office is neither to be sought nor declined.' My manner of life continues to agree witli me," &c. One week later, .Tune 27, he finds occasion to write in a different strain : "I do not know whether you will be glad or sad, but it rather vexes me, that I have been forced out of my lodgings at the cloisters, by something stronger than superstition or the force of public opinion. Tell it not in Gath. • I have been haunted, haunted by a visitation from the tombs; inaudible, unseen ministries, but, alack-a-day ! not tmsmelt." Tombs, it seems, had been erected under the vestry ; " and whenever they are opened," he says, " for the reception of a new tenant, they give out, of course, something more doleful than a cry. It is true that this has happened but once or twice ; and so potent has been my protest, that it will probably never happen again ; but as I am something of an alarmist on such subjects, and value myself too highly to expose myself to the least risk from offensive and unwholesome exhalations, I have made an ado about it, struck my tent, and taken my abode again at the American House. Here I shall remain until I can do better, 1836/ CHRIST CHURCH. 189 retaining my study and sanctum still in the vestry and attic of the church, which grow daily upon my estimation, as the most desirahle centres of motion." Under date of the " glorious fourth," which fell on Monday, he writes, '« Three animated services yesterday, a ride to Canihridge at night, and a walk from thence this morning, are somewhat exhausting to the animal frame ; and it will not be strange if I find my pen moving rather tremulously and languidly along, — ' Just like a sick man in his dream, Three paces, and then faltering.' The noise and tumult of this day of uproar has not yet invaded the quiet of the cloisters. I should hardly be aware of its arrival but for the sounds from afar. I am hardly tempted out this morning by any thing that reaches my ear. After dinner, I may mingle a little in the stir of the great Babel ; and, at night, I shall be hardly able to resist the treat of the fireworks on the Common, (if the weather permits,) which' are said to be rather finer tlian any thing of the kind ever exhibited in Boston." In the course of this month, he succeeded in effecting a meeting with his brother Sherman at New Haven, and making a joint visit of several days. He left Boston on the 14th, and returned on the 23d. On the 25th, dating from the " cloisters of Cripplegate," he thus alludes to this visit : " My last visit convinces me that a good deal can be done in a little time, and that, in this way, we shall be able to come often without being much missed. Though Sherman's confinement is much greater, at certain seasons of the year, than mine, still the facihties for getting home are so much greater from Albany than Boston, that he can easily make liis arrangements for seeing you frequently, even if it be but for a day or two. You must urge it upon him ; and as often as he will make an appoint- ment upon which I can depend, I will not fail to meet him. 1 feel indeed that it is a duty, as well as a delight, thus to assemble our- selves together ; and it should be repeated with the greater alacrity, while there are no domestic ties to encumber our movements, while the household circle is mercifully preserved unbroken, and we have all life and health to enjoy them. I assure you that I cherish my late visit as among my happiest hours, though rapid, alas ! as pleasant in their flight." In the same letter he thus alludes to the death of Bishop White : " Yesterday I did what I could to make Bishop White's death remembered. I robed the episcopal chair in black, rung funeral airs on the bells, had the music solemn and plaintive through all tlie services, introduced one of the collects of the burial service ; and though I did not preach, yet the whole exercises were of so marked 190 MEMOIR OF \VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836. a character as to produce an obvious impression on the minds of the people. After divine service in the afternoon, I called the wardens and vestry together, stated to them some of the cii'cum- stances of Bishop White's decease, proposed a brief series of reso- lutions respecting the same, which will be printed, and was requested to preach on the subject next Sunday morning. To-day, at the suggestion of some of us, the bishop has called a meeting of the clergy of the city and vicinity, on Wednesday, at his house, to do what is right and proper in the premises. And I hope what is right and proper will be done." The hope here expressed does not seem to have been fully real- ized ; for he writes in his next letter, " The bishop did me the honor to take my advice as to the expediency of calling a meeting of the clergy, with reference to the decease of Bishop White. At my suggestion, he prepared some resolutions, and a collect to be used in our churches. The substance of them will be found in the Witness. Strange to say, however, we had some difficulty in getting them passed ; and to secure unanimity, they were obliged to undergo some important modifications." Two of the brethren "objected, at the threshold, to every thing, as savoring of idolatrous veneration, or going to magnify the bishop's office above that of his brethren. S especially objected to designating him as guide or father; and when referred to the Prayer Book in justification of the epithet, he further expressed his regret that it was countenanced by the liturgy. The force of radicalism could go no further, and never did it appear more disgusting. If we parted with increased vener- ation for the dead, it was with higher contempt and apprehension for the living ; so that our coming together, as on many previous occasions, was not for the better, but for the worse." He then adds, "Our church was well filled yesterday; and I preached in the morning on the text which I selected at home, from 2 Kings ii. 3. It gave so good satisfaction, that the proprietors, after service, met, and requested a copy for publication. I shall tell them to come again in nine years, according to the Horatian canon, and I will let them know." In a subsequent letter, he writes, " The movements in testimony of veneration for the memory of Bishop White seem to have been simultaneous and spontaneous in all parts of the country. The churches here have generally exhibited some badge of sorrow, with the exception of St. Paul's ; and sermons have been preached expressly with reference to the event. ... I was yesterday reading one of Bishop Andrews's petitions for the king, and was much struck with its beauty and the remarkable manner in which it had been realized by the patriarch of our Church : ' Let the dial of his life move slowly on ; and sutfer not his old age to strike, till those who now stand up about him like the tender branches of the 1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 191 vine, be seen growing on the banks of this same kingdom, like rows of tall cedars.' " There is much of pleasant and familiar chit-chat in his corre- spondence of this period, which we have neither the right nor the disposition to draw forth from the privacy of domestic custody. We will only select, here and there, such passages as may best seem to develop those deep and sympathetic feelings which formed the most endearing traits of his character. Having been informed of the severe and dangerous sickness of an aunt in New Haven, whom he most sincerely loved and honored, he writes, " She has been a kind and attentive friend to the sick and afflicted, and I trust will find her reward, in this her day of visitation. It is a path which we must all travel ; and the thought is calculated to make us realize our depend- ence, not only on God, but on each other, and make us the more anxious to discharge our relative duties while the day lasts." After her death, lie writes, November 22, "It is difficult for me to realize that my good aunt is really dead, and that I shall see her face on earth no more forever. I did not know myself how well I loved her till now ; and it grieves me to the heart that I have given her so few tokens of what I felt towards her while it was yet in my power. With the sincerity of sorrow I mourn her loss ; and, in common with all who knew her best, I desire ever to cherish and imitate tlie example of uncommon excellence which she exhibited in all the relations of life. With what unspeakable comfort and satisfaction can we dwell upon the manner in which she discharged every duty, domestic, social, and religious. How can we ever forget the many delightful hours which she has enlivened with the playful but inno- cent spirit of her conversation, her sterling depth of Christian prin- ciple, her warm and tender compassion, ever alive to the claims of poverty and privation, and that rare combination of sensibility and energy which exists only in the female breast, and made the sons and daughters of need, of suftering, and affliction ever ready to rise up and call her blessed ? She cannot but have entered into peace ; and her works, many and beautiful, do indeed follow her ; and where she is, like her and her Savior, may we be also." On every recurrence of his birthday, his thoughts took a pensive turn. Writing to his brother Frederick, November 4, he says, " Next Monday will be my birthday ; and if I feel as at present, I shall think that I am quite old enough to have completed my thirty- second year. It causes me great searchings of heart that I am no wiser and better as life wears away, and hope that I shall have grace to turn over, with the next leaf, to a brighter and more blessed page." His next letter, dated on his birthday, November 7, is addressed (his father being absent on a journey) to his cousin Eliz- abeth : " This is my birthday ; and mother, at least, will not forget this day of joy and sorrow two-and-thirty years ago. It makes me 192 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CKOSWELL. [1836. sad to think, how little of comfort to her, how little of usefulness to society, that long track of years has brought. I should despair for the future, but that such a feeling would but aggravate the sin with which the past is burdened. In very truth, my cousin, I feel wondrous old, and am conscious of the want of something like a new spring to reanimate the premature winter of my being. . But I will not indulge in this melancholy train of thought, lest it should be contagious to kindred minds. The world is^ bright around me, my health is excellent, my spirits good, and my heart is not yet dead within me. I hope to be at home soon, and give you living evidence that I can yet stand up, and ' give the world assurance of a man.' I cannot but admit that I long to have the time arrive, and shall count the days of father's absence." He commemorated this, his thirty-second birthday, also, in the following beautiful stanzas, addressed to his father, introduced by a Latin motto from Milton, and dated from the "cloisters of Cripple- gate, November 7, 1836." TO MY FATHER. My father, I recall the dream Of childish joy and wonder. When thou wast young as I now seem, Say, thirty-three, or under ; When on thy temples, as on mine, Time just began to sprinkle His first gray hairs, and traced the sign Of many a coming wrinkle. [ recognize thy voice's tone As to myself I'm talking ; And this firm tread, how like thine own, In thought, the study walking ! As, musing, to and fro I pass, A glance across my shoulder Would bring thine image in the glass, Were it a trifle older. My father, proud am I to bear Thy face, thy form, thy stature, But happier far might I but share More of thy better nature ; Thy patient progress after good. All obstacles disdaining, Thy courage, faith, and fortitude. And spirit uncomplaining. 1836.] CHRI8T f'KTTRCH. (93 Then for the day that I was born Well might I joy, and borrow No longer of the coming morn Its trouble or its sorrow ; Content I'd be to take my chance In either world, possessing For my complete inheritance Thy virtues and thy blessing ! From this time he began to project another visit to New Haven, where he expected again to meet his brother Sherman ; but so many obstacles intervened connected with his official duties, that he was compelled to defer it froui week to week, and finally to relin- quish it altogether, very much to his own sorrow, as well as the disappointment of his brother and the family at home. December 29, he writes, " My last forlorn hope is gone ; and it is now too late to think of getting home in season to see Sherman." After detail- ing some of the causes of the detention, he adds, " All these things seem to be against me ; but God knows best. I write with a smile on my lips and a tear in my eye ; but it will do no good to weep about it. I wanted to see Sherman, but it is not indispensable. Perhaps, too, I can reach him at Albany ; at any rate, I shall look forward to a meeting with him in the spring, in the old parsonage." At this time, he had an unpleasant controversy with one of his brethren of the clergy of Boston. It originated in an entire mis- apprehension on the part of his assailant, who addressed him in language extremely reprehensible and hurtful to his feelings. It is evident, from his journal and from his letters to his father, that he found great difficulty in restraining his indignation. " I was tempt- ed," he says, " to use harsh language in reply, but, by the grace of God, was brought to a better mind, and have got the advantage of him, by writing such an answer as becomes one Christian minister to send to another." It is quite unnecessary to record this corre- spondence, especially as it terminated amicably, and in a manner highly creditable to both parties. Mr. S , after tendering a full apology, and entering into a satisfactory explanation of the whole matter, closes thus: "Allow me now to say, that I exceed- ingly regret that any circumstance, however originating, should have led to the misunderstanding which has temporarily interrupted the harmony of our mutual relations, and to express my earnest hope that the correct understanding of those circumstances, to which we have now attained, may contribute to future increased pleasantness in our clerical and Christian intercourse." And this is the response of the rector of Christ Church : " I beg you to believe, my dear sir, that I as freely forgive the injury as I would be forgiven under 25 194 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837. similar circumstances ; I cordially reciprocate the wishes you express for a better understanding between us ; and I am happy in the belief, that the exercise of such courtesy as is observed in the common intercourse of gentlemen will preserve, and the influence of Chris- tian charity will surely augment, the harmony of those relations which every consideration of duty requires us to maintain towards each other." 1837, Before the foregoing controversy had bfeen brought to a con- clusion, a visit to New Haven was accomplished. He left Boston on the 4th of .Fanuary, and, proceeding by the way of Worcester and Hartford, arrived at New Haven on the 5th. This visit appears to have passed very pleasantly, being spent chiefly among his friends and relatives ; but it terminated rather abruptly, in consequence of a summons to return on account of the dangerous illness of a parishioner. While on this visit, at the request of two of his young friends, he wrote verses in their albums. This was an act of courtesy, which, from his good nature, he was seldom able to decline. Of these productions, however, probably very few have ever found their way beyond the covers of the books in which they were originally written. In the present case, one of the two was copied into his own manuscript collection, from which it is here transcribed. " The fear of the Lord, tliat is wisdom." Such wisdom as thy name implies, And all who seek may find, Be ever honored in thine eyes, And treasured in thy mind ; Its glory more tiian gold or gem Thy happy brow sliall deck, Be on thy head a diadem, And pearls about thy neck. For they who fear the Lord shall be Unto salvation wise ; And mighty is the mystery Which in that sentence lies. 1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 195 Unmoved by other fear or shame, Let but that fear be thine, And in the spirit of thy name Pursue the life divine. Of the other it is difficult to speak with confidence ; but the following is found in the manuscript collection of a friend, without date, and may be inserted in this place : — IN AN ALBUM. Here, Lady, as from some Sibylline leaf, Read of the after time, when thou shalt know Thou hast a mightier book than Prospero ; Albeit he of necromancers chief Boasted his volume of enchanting power, (As thou hast read, whose leisure loves to pore On Britain's and thy country's choicest lore,) To call departed spirits to his bower. This is the potent tome, which erewhile, spread At mystic moments, when thy soul has read Each penman's spell work, howsoever brief. Shall straight recall his form in life and lunb ; Then Heaven forefend, that gentle hearts, with grief, Or yet in anger, should remember him. On his return home, on the 20th, he was much relieved by finding that the condition of the parishioner, whose extreme illness had occasioned his urgent recall, was much less alarming tlian he had reason to apprehend. But he did not regret his early return, as tliere was at the time a considerable amount of sickness in the parish, and his presence was much needed. His account of one case is so remarkable that it is freely transcribed, in full confidence that it is in no respect exaggerated : " One young man, in our neighborhood, died the same morning, literally a victim and a mar- tyr to Graham's system of abstinence. Ten months ago he was in the bloom of health ; but straw beds, pillows filled with shavings, cold water baths daily, and cold water diet, with bread toasted to a crisp, and the merest vegetable stuff", had reduced him to a skele- ton. His mind became diseased, as his body decayed; and nothing could divert him from his delusion. At last, his blood began to stagnate and corrupt. Boils made their appearance. He told Graham of it ; but he burst into a horse laugh, clapped him on 196 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837. the shoulder, told him he was glad of it, tliat they would do him good, and that he wished he had a hundred ! In this respect his wishes were gratified, for Job himself was not more completely covered from head to foot." In a letter, dated from the " cloisters of Christ Church," on the first Sunday evening after his return, he thus administers a rebuke, which, though applied to the congregations in New Haven, might have been extended with equal justice to a large portion of the worshipping assemblies of the Church throughout the country. The day had been extremely stormy, and he says, "Our congregations have of course been thin ; but it did my heart good to hear how heartily and strongly the responses were made by the few who were present. It was in remarkable contrast with the deathlike stillness of your congregations in New Haven, which is enough to chill the warmth of a saint's devotion. Though I have often observed this trait in my parish, I was never so struck with the difference before ; and I really felt proud and elevated by the sound, as of many waters, which made the church echo with the responses of the Litany to-day." January 31, he announces with much gratification the safe arrival of Rev. Dr. Wainwright, in fine healtli and spirits, from England, where he had been spending several months. He had brought with him an excellent organ for Trinity Church, which was intended to surpass, and doubtless did surpass, any instrument of the kind then in the country. Of the extraordinary qualities and powers of this instrument, some interesting jiarticulars will be found hereafter. In this letter he also mentions a visit from the Rev. Dr. S , remark- ing that it was the first he had ever made him since he came to the city. The interview was long and dispassionate, and led to the con- cluding letters in the correspondence above mentioned.* At a later date, in transmitting copies of these letters, he says, "I am glad that it has been brought to so creditable a close for me ; and I iiave no disposition, even were it my duty, to concern myself further with the business. I hope the society will not think it necessary to meddle with it; but, at n / rate, the clergy must let it alone." He speaks in this \.id several subsequent letters of the great amount of sickness in his parish, and of an unprecedented share of duty. But he represents his own health, at this time, as perfectly sound. The records of the year, however, disclose the fact that he was often overcome by his excessive labors, and thnt certain indica- tions sometimes betrayed but too plainly an impaired state of the constitution. These disclosures are found more frequently in his * See pp. 193, 194. 1837.] CHRIST CHFllCH. 197 diary than in his letters. His diary was a record entirely private, and was designed for no eye but his own. His entries were indeed sometimes made in a dead lano:uage, or in stenographical cliarac- ters, to secure concealment. Here, therefore, he could write with perfect freedom ; but in his letters he was more guarded, that he might not excite the apprehensions of his friends. But, not to anticipate, it is sufficient, at present, to cite a passage or two from a letter of Sunday evening, February 19 : "I have had no assist- ance whatever in three full services, to-day, though there have been three clergymen present, besides Sunday school, baptisms, and visit- ing the sick." Of this last duty he had a great amount. At the close of his letter, he says, " I wish I were going out to Europe with cousin B. I think such a voyage would do me good service, though I cannot plead any necessity on the score of ill health, and should much prefer being well enough at home to being a valetudi- narian abroad. I am tired with a hard day's work, but never enjoyed better health." Another letter from the " cloisters " gives a little further infor- mation as to the new organ, imported by the rector for Trinity Church : " It is certainly a wonderful instrument, and excites the admiration of our builders here, who are men of no mean reputa- tion in their business, but who confess that this will far surpass their art. Many of the larger pipes, which we construct of wood, are, in this instrument, of metal ; and the doctor says that there is not less than a ton in the weight of all of them together. A peculiarity of this class of instruments is, that the performer turns his back to the organ, and looks towards the people, with his keyboard before him, after the fashion of a piano-forte. The builder, young Gray, who has come out with it, is said to be one of the very best per- formers in England, and presided at the organ, at the great musical festival in Westminster Abbey, accompanied by seven hundred sing- ing men and singing women, besides the orchestra. . . . Gray says, that, at the first sound of all the music at this festival, the effect was so overwhelming that he burst into tears, as did almost all the performers about him, and cried through the whole of it. Such was their ecstasy that they literally could not contain them- selves. We, on this side of the water, have but little idea of any such music as this ; but we have the comfort of knowing, as old •Tohn Newton says, that if we behave like good Christians, we shall have much better music in heaven." The following lines were written, under date of March 28, in the oratorio of " The Feast of Tabernacles." They are found in manuscript, and it is doubtful whether they have appeared in print. 198 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1837. "THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES." Methinks there is indeed a " feast " In these inspiring words alone, Which could not even be increased By music's most enchanting tone. My inmost sense they ravish quite With scenes and sounds so dear to me, They fill my ear, they fill my sight, And leave no room for minstrelsy. ye who will the spells of power In which the sons of song combine : To sit and muse some silent hour O'er these transporting leaves, be mine ! Here pitch my verdant tent ; for here He must have felt it good to be, Who built these tabernacles dear To Faith, and Fame, and Fantasy ! Among the occurrences of this period, there was one which caused him mucli conflict of feeling ; this was the removal of the Rev. Dr. Eaton to Burhngton, N. .1., in comphance with an invita- tion from Bishop Doane, to take a prominent situation in St. Mary's Hall, an institution established by the bishop for the education of the daughters of the Church. The call to this important and responsible post was indeed a high and well-merited testimony to the worth of Dr. Eaton, and as such, was most welcome and grati- fying; but to his younger brother personally, and to the general interests of the Chiu-ch in Boston, it was a severe privation. From the time of his first settlement as rector of Christ Church, he had been permitted to look up to Dr. Eaton, his immediate predecessor in the cure, not only as a venerated father and brother in the min- istry, but as a highly valued and esteemed counsellor and friend, on whose judgment and opinion he felt as if he could always rely with the most entire confidence. Dr. Eaton having also occupied, for several years, tlie post of city missionary, in which his labors were abundautly blessed, his removal could not but be considered, in both respects, as a serious calamity. Writing on the day before his removal, he says, " This breaking up of the doctor makes us all sad, and me, especially, homesick. We shall accompany him, if not to the ship, at least to within three hours' ride of it ; and 1 shall not wonder if souie natural tears are shed on that occasion." Accordingly, he notes in his diary, the next day, that a party of 1837.] CHRIST ClIUKCII. 199 clertrvinen and others accompanied the doctor and famdy, and took leave of tlieni at the raih'oad station honse. This change in his clerical associations, taken in connection with other circumstances of a disconra Mr. Hackley, at Auburn, thinks of leaving his church, for the more 31 242 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. congenial occupation of teaching a school. I should be rejoiced to see you in his place at Auburn. Would you listen to proposals ? Can you visit the place and look at it ? The salary is eight hun- dred dollars, with a parsonage. I write all this on the hint at the close of your letter. Mr. Hackley will doubtless write to you, should he resign ; and I trust you will view the case favorably." He writes to his father, " I am disposed to reply to this direct prop- osition, as directly and plainly, that there was a time when I did not think to leave here for life ; but that, for reasons of which it is not necessary to speak, I am free to say, that though •! would not appear before the people of Auburn as a candidate, yet I would not decline a suitable invitation, without first visiting the parish, and giving a mutual opportunity to ascertain how we were suited to each other. I shall wait to hear from you before replying, and take your advice." Having received a note of approval from his father, he subse- quently writes, " I have just written to Bishop De Lancey, as I proposed to do. It costs me some effort to come to the conclusion ; for my heart cleaves here, however ray judgment points elsewhere. The consideration of being within the reach of his ' friendly crook,' as I have told him, operates powerfully with me. The journey, I have no doubt, will be a pleasant and profitable one, whatever the result may be." These incipient movements are thus particularly recorded, that no room may be left for misapprehension or misrepresentation. It is proper in this, as in all other cases, that he should tell his own story ; leaving others to draw, from his own avowals, such proofs as they may warrant of his ingenuousness and disinterestedness, and of his earnest desire to avoid all just occasion of offence. Writing on Tuesday in Easter week, after speaking of the weather on Easter day, as being "in fine harmony with the services," he adds, " Every body seemed to enjoy them, and Easter reigned un- disputed the Queen of Festivals. With me, it of course mingled much with other feelings, subduing and softening them, that it was perhaps the last Easter which I should spend here. I have said nothing to any one here, except my warden, Mr. Farley, of what I expect from Auburn, nor shall I, until I receive a formal invitation. It will take the parish very much by surprise ; and will, to the best part, if not the whole, be a source of unaffected sorrow. Their action will probably determine the question." Meanwhile he sought the counsel of many of his friends and brethren abroad, and patiently waited the result. On another important point he now speaks undisguisedly : " It will be distinctly understood, as soon as I make any declarations on the subject, that I do not go to Auburn, or any where else, as an unmarried man." 1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 243 These preliminaries prepare the way, for placinjj^ on record the official transactions connected with his removal from the i)arish. The following communication was received on *he 2d of May : — Auburn, .^pril 28, 1840. The Rev. William Cro swell. Dear Sir: In commnnicating to you the enclosed resolutions of our vestry, adopted under the advice of^ur bishop, it gives us additional pleas- ure to assure you, that your call to this parish is made with the unanimous concurrence of all the members, those absent as well as present at the meeting, and in conformity to the wish of the parish whom we represent. We would, for that and other reasons, earnestly urge your acceptance of it, believing that it will be most satisfactorily settling the question, oftentimes delicate and agitating to parishes, which has a second time arisen in our par- ish since the ever-lamented death of Rev. Mr. Lucas, our former rector. At the same time, we beg leave to state to you, that it is very desirable that your settlement over us should be with a knowledge on your part of the parish and people committed to your charge, so that we may count, on both sides, upon permanency in the arrangements, such, as we trust, a mutual ac- quaintance will lead to. We therefore, by direction of the vestry, invite you to visit us at your earliest convenience, and to spend such time as will enable you to act with full personal knowledge, believing, as we are led to flatter ourselves, that a mutual acquaintance will add inducements to your accept- ance of our call. The Rev. Mr. Hackley will consent to continue with us until about the 1st of August, if your convenience would thereby be promoted ; and in ref- erence to his continuance, it is desirable to hear from you, or, if practicable, to see you here at an early day. At the time of his resignation, he supposed it incumbent upon him to repair to his new engagements by the first of May ; but it is now ascertained that he can remain until the later period. Still, it is important to ascertain early whether he should make his calculations to remain or not. Hoping, in the providence of God, that you may at an early day be settled among us as our rector, pleasantly and permanently. We are, sir, with respect and esteem, Your friends and obedient servants, G. B. THROOP, > S. H. GOODWIN, V Com. A. GRIDLEY, ) The following were the enclosed resolutions : — At a meeeting of the vestry of St. Peter's Church, in Auburn, held at the office of J. H. BosTwicK, Esq., the 27th day of April, 1840: — Present, Rev. C. W. Hackley, President; Hon. H. Burt, Senior Warden; Hon. G. B. Throop, William Swain, H. Bostwick, S. H. Goodwin, A. F. Carpenter, and A. Gridley, Vestrymen. On motion of G. B. Throop, Esq., Resolved unanimously, That the Rev. William Croswell, of Boston, be, and is hereby invited to become the Rector of St. Peter's Church, in Auburn. Also, on motion of H. Burt, Resolved, That G. B. Throop, Stephen A. Goodwin, and A. Gridley, be a committee to communicate the above to the Rev. Mr. Croswell, and to make such further communications as they may deem proper and in accordance with the expressed views and wishes of the vestry. A true extract from the minutes, A. GRIDLEY, Clerk of the Vestry of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, N. Y. 244 MEMOIR OF WILLLVM CROSWELL. [1840] Oi). the 4th of May, writing to his father, he mentions the re- ceipt of the foregoing communication, and states that he had shown it to one or two fri*^ .ds besides the wardens, and that they all con- curred with him in the o]Mnion, that it was best to communicate it through the wardens, to the proprietors, in such a way as to ascertain the real state of their feelings. He accordingly wrote the letter, of which the following is a copy : — . Boston, May 4, 1840. Messrs. Robert Farley and Frederick H. Stimpson, Wardens of Christ Church, Boston. My Dear Friends : On Saturday last, I received the enclosed invitation to the rectorship of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, in the Western Diocese of New York ; and before taking any action upon it, I lose no time in bringing it to your notice, and through you to that of the proprietors, this day con- vened. My reasons are these. It is now eleven years since I came to this church, while the " dew of youth " was still upon me, and entered upon my duties with all the ardor of a first love. From that time to this, I have never had any other idea than that of identifying myself with it for life ; and not only have sought no change, but have declined several overtures from abroad, which, in the opin- ion of disinterested friends, I should have consulted my usefulness and ad- vantage by accepting. Recognizing distinctly the leadings of Providence which brought me hither, here I purposed steadfastly and patientlj'' to abide, in the spirit of the Institution office, feeding the portion of the flock of Christ intrusted to me, until I should be called to give an account of my stewardship to the Chief Bishop and Sovereign Judge of all hereafter. My heart and affections still cling fondly here, and the very vicissitudes of death and time, which have removed so many from among us, whose countenance was my chief earthly encouragement, have given an endearing consecration to the scene of my past labors. No clergyman can be more sensible of his insufficiency for the arduous duties of the ministry, and of his own manifold imperfections ; but I still enjoy the consciousness that the spiritual welfare of the parish, and the obligation of fidelity to souls, have ever been up- permost in my mind, and that it has been my heart's desire to spend and be spent in their service. I entertain a lively and grateful sense of the thousand proofs of kindness and esteem received from my parishioners, individually and collectively, and which have led me to suppose that I was secure of their continued aflfec- tions. In this respect, however, from the painful information of which you were, a few weeks since, the unwilling organs, I am apprehensive that I may have been mistaken ; that a state of feeling unknown to me may exist, which threatens the permanency of my relations, and may make the dissolution of the pastoral connection expedient and desirable. Should this be the case, I trust the occasion will not be allowed to pass without a distinct intimation of it, in order that I may be able to act in the premises with a full under- standing of their wishes and feehngs. To whatever conclusion the proprietors may come, 1 trust it will be in that spirit of mutual kindness and good will which has always governed our rela- tions to each other, and a title to which I trust never to forfeit. May the great Head of the Church so guide and govern them in their delibera- tions, as may best promote the permanent prosperity, harmony, and happiness of this home of our common afiections. With sincerest esteem, your friend and pastor, W. CROSWELL. This letter was presented to the proprietors at the close of their 1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 245 anmml meeting', an<3, as might have heen expected, not only took tliem by surprise, but produced some little agitation. Its tone was calculated to disarm hostility, and it was received by a principal portion of the meeting in a kind and conciliatory spirit ; but tiiere were a few present who betrayed strong symptoms of disatiection. " They agreed, however," he adds in the letter to his father, " not to act precipitately, and will meet again on Thursday evening, (7th.) Meantime, all doubt has passed from my mind as to the expedien- cy of resigning ; and the only question remaining to be settled is, as to the time and manner. On this point I am not yet prepared to decide ; but shall take judicious advice, and proceed witli all the calmness I can command. I foresee that the final step will cause great excitement in the parish and town, for my friends are numer- ous and influential ; but I am determined, by the grace of God, not to be excited myself, nor be responsible for excitement in others. I intend to leave, if may be, without an enemy behind ; and it will not be my fault if we do not part with the best understanding pos- sible. I foresee also how hard it will be, without divine strength, to adhere to this resolution ; and I need your effectual and fervent prayer in my behalf." On the 7th, the adjourned meeting of the proprietors was accord- ingly held, when there were present, in person and by proxy, twen- ty-four voters; and the following resolutions were passed, with a single dissenting voice : — Whereas, The Rev. William Croswell, rector of this church, by a communication made to the wardens on the 4th inst., states that he has re- ceived an invitation to the rectorship of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, N. Y., and requests the opinion of the proprietors in relation to the expediency of his accepting the same ; therefore. Resolved, That we receive this communication with sincere regret, and deprecate the dissolution of his present pastoral connection, convinced that, during the eleven years he has sustained the important and arduous situation of rector, he has been faithful and unremitting in his exertions to advance, not only tlie interests of the parish, but those of the church at large in the diocese, with a single eye to the spiritual welfare of the souls of those over whom God in his wise providence has made him overseer ; and that the many sacrifices he has made, and the unbounded liberality he has shown, entitle him to our Avarmest gratitude. Resolved, That a committee, to consist of three proprietors and the war- dens, be appointed to communicate the foregoing resolution, and to express more fully the sentiments of the proprietors on the subject. [Committee ap- pointed, in addition to the wardens — Messrs. Johw Bacon, H. H. Hugge- FORD, and E. W. Goddard.] In discharging the duty thus assigned ' to them, the committee presented the following letter : — Rev. William Croswell. Our beloved Friend and Pastor : The committee appointed at the last meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church have enclosed the resolutions 246 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. then passed for your consideration. In so doing, they conceive they dis- charge but one part of their duty. These documents will constitute a part of the Church records. It is expedient, therefore, that there be a vrritten testimonial of the sentiments and happy feelings with which your parishioners regard you. Were your own wishes alone consulted, this might be omitted. By the unforeseen events of the future, our Church, by the direction of a benevolent Providence, may become more and more distinguished as its numbers in- crease. Therefore its history may be the more interesting. From these motives we deem it our duty to enter on record the views of the committee, and through them what they believe to be the honest and sin- cere opinions of the great majority of the proprietors and members of our Church. We speak in an especial manner of those who have attended since your ordination ; and also of those who have, at a subsequent period, con- nected themselves to our Church. If ever it fell to the lot of a parish to enjoy the most disinterested, devoted, and self-sacrificing pastor, ours has been blessed with it, during the whole of your ministration, beyond example. The sacrifice has been on one side alone. The only return we can make, is our ardent gratitude and love to one who has ever been an anchor to our hopes and a comforter to our souls. We cannot, dear sir, repress these spontaneous indications of regard, oth- erwise we should do injustice to our hearts. Your assenting to remain, will encourage and animate all to promote that union and harmony, without which no church can be at peace. With sentiments of much esteem. We sign ourselves, your friends, &c., JOHN BACON, H. H. HUGGEFORD, ROBERT FARLEY, FRED. H. STIMPSON, ELIAS W. GODDARD. Boston, 7th May, 1840. This communication was presented, it seems, in person, by the chairman of the committee. A description of the interview, and of its effects upon the rector, must be given in his own language : " The chairman, Mr. Huggeford, came over to my study, and with a voice tremulous with emotion, and in a style of most impres- sive eloquence, quite overpowered my manhood. I felt relieved by the first gush of tears which I have shed since the subject has been under consideration, and all bosoms seemed to be too full for utterance." In addition to this demonstration of hearty good will, he re- ceived other assurances, which led him to hesitate in his decision, and to weigh more deliberately the question of his removal. " I confess," he says, " that I am in a strait betwixt two ; to depart be- ing, on many accounts, doubtless, far better, while to remain seems to be most needful for those here. What to do I wot not. Visit Auburn I must, in redemption of my pledge ; and that fair village may make a conquest of all my reluctance." Writing again, four days later, he says, "I have not much light to throw on my affairs. The proprietors meet on Thursday, to receive the report of tlieir committee. Their own resolutions are so satisfactory, and the feel- 1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 247 ing so strong in my favor through the parish, that I am more at a loss than ever what I ought to do. I need ilhniiination. Seek it for me. I cannot keep them in suspense at Auburn. And I can- not leave here till the question is decided. I feel, I assure you, greatly embarrassed." This embarrassment was doubtless much increased by the receipt of the following affectionate address, signed by more than eighty families and individuals, among the regular attendants upon his ministrations : — To the Rev. William Croswell, Rector of Christ Cliurch. Dear Sir : The subscribers, worshippers at Christ Church, have learned, with the deepest pain and regret, that you have 'tendered your ' esignation as rector. Having been permitted to enjoy the benefit of yonr niinistration for many years, and witnessed your untiring exertions and great sacrifices for the interest, temporal as well as spiritual, of the Church ; and feeling the greatest respect and affection for you as their pastor, and believing that your leaving at any time, but particularly under the present circumstances, would be of serious and lasting injury to the Church, they are desirous of giving you this testimonial of their regard, and respectfully urging you to reconsider your determination, and consent to remain with us, assuring you that they will do all in their power to render your situation as happy and pleasant to you in all your relations as they trust your remaining will be profitable to them and the Church. Previous to the adjourned meeting of the proprietors to hear the report of their committee, he addressed the following note to the chairman : — Boston, May 14, 1840. H. H. HuGGEFORD, Esq., Chairman of a Committee of Proprietors of Christ Church. My dear Sir : Nothing could be more gratifying to me than the terms of the resolutions adopted by the proprietors of Christ Church, at their meet- ing on the 7th inst., unless it were the manner in which their sentiments were conveyed to me, on the same evening, by yourself and the other gen- tlemen of the committee associated with you. Were I to yield to my present impressions, I beg to assure you that they would be decisive in favor of my remaining in a situation that was never more endeared to me. At the same tune the question is one which has so momentous a bearing on the pennanent interests of the parish, as well as my own personal prospects for life, that it ought not to be settled without great deliberation. I hope, therefore, it will not seem unreasonable if I ask a few weeks' delay before communicat- ing my final decision, in order that I may have an opportunity of consulting with my friends, and be enabled to view the subject in all its aspects. With every sentiment of regard and affection for yourself and the body whom you represent on this occasion, I am, very sincerely. Your friend and servant. W. CROSWELL. May 15, he writes, " Every thing is now satisfactorily adjusted. The proprietors met last evening to hear the report of their com- mittee ; and all things appear now to be precisely as they should 248 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. be, and I have no time to lose in making my arrangements for visiting Auburn." These preUminaries being thus settled, he next announces, on the 22d of May, another most important event of his life, — his betroth- ment to Miss Amanda Tarbell, daughter of Silas P. Tarbell, Esq., a young lady witli whom he had been well acquainted, and for whom he had formed a strong attachment. He left Boston on the 25th of May, and pursued his journey, taking New Haven on his way, from whence he persuaded his mother to accompany him as far as Albany. On the 29th he arrived at Auburn ; and his first impressions are given in a few lively sketches, which are detached from a long letter addressed to his father, on the 1st of June : " I was met on my arrival here by three or four of the principal people. The first impressions seemed to be mutually favorable. I confess that I am much pleased with every thing. The place is pleasant beyond my expectations. The church is delightfully situated, withdrawn from the street, and bosomed up in locust trees, which are now in full flower and fra- grance. The parsonage hard by, and all its arrangements, just about right. Mrs. Lucas (widow of the former rector) still occupies it, and I am her guest. . . . The congregation yesterday was large and intelligent, and seemed to be well satisfied with the ser- vices. ... I have seen enough to satisfy me that an humble- minded man might spend his days happily and usefully here ; and if, on my return to Boston, I find it, as I probably shall, 'expedient that I go away,' I shall not be disposed to look any farther. The interior of the church rather disappoints me. It is not in keeping with all without ; but the arrangements have rather a common air. The monument of Bishop Hobart, and his bust, however, glorify it, and make it worth a pilgrimage to see. His spirit seems to brood over the house [the parsonage] wherein he died, and where Lucas followed him to his rest. ' The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged above the common walks.' You perceive that a change has come over the spirit of my dream since I left New Haven. My health and heart seem to be better. A burden is lifted off from my mind. The weather is delightful, and the airs of this sweet little town are singularly refreshing, and seem to make it, indeed, ' the loveliest village of the plain.' " His next letter confirms all that he has said of his favorable im- pressions in the foregoing, and he concludes to remain over a second Sunday. He again writes, on the 12th, from New York, giving his reasons for not returning by the way of New Haven, and expressing his full conviction that it is expedient to remove to 1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 349 Auburn, with as little delay as possible : " Unless something occurs to change my determination which I cannot now foresee, I shall resign the rectorship at once, get married forthwith, and push for Auburn early in July. I do not yet know what reception I shall meet with in Boston. In any event I have a trying ordeal to pass through ; but I believe I am nerved for the issue." It was amidst the trying scenes of this moment that the return- ing festival of St. John the Baptist brought vividly to his mind and feelings the eleventh anniversary of his institution to the rectorship i)f Christ Church. Under the circumstances, it was a day of double solemnity to him ; and he dedicated it to a sacred purpose. In the cloisters of that church, where he had so long ministered, and of which he was now about to take his final leave, he penned the fol- lowing touching lines. They were enclosed to a highly-valued friend and correspondent, the late Mrs. Elizabeth Sumner, of Hartford, and are inserted here, as their most appropriate place. ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S DAY. It was a solemn day to me. This twenty-fourth of June, Eleven years ago ; alas, That they have passed so soon ! And often as it comes about, I meditate thereon, And strive to follow, as I may, Christ's herald, good St. John. It was a solemn place to me, That sanctuary old. Where still we, after sixscore years, The same high service hold. And still 'tis good, amid the change That sweeps o'er all beside. To know that while these walls shall stand, That service shall abide. How many who were present then Sleep in their tombs below ! How many to their ^istant posts Have gone as I now go ! Of all the crowds that then were here, How few are left behind ! And of that few, how fewer still Who call that scene to mind. 32 250 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CKO.SWELL. [1840. To me it is as yesterday ; I see the whole proceed — The bishop and the brethren round, Who come to bid " God speed ! " The holy altar, then withdrawn Deep in its own recess. Ere desk and pulpit crowded in, To make its honors less. O, it was not in mockery That then I ofFered there, In weakness, fear, and trembling tones. The institution prayer. How often, as I've paced those aisles At sacred hours alone, Have I recited o'er that prayer. To God is truly known ! How little thought the warden gray. That aught but death, the keys Surrendered by his faithful hand, Should ever wrest from these ; That e'er this ancient fold should count Their broken pledge no sin, Or part, for trifling cause, the bonds Of God's own discipline. Dear Church ! as now that tender charge I solemnly resign. Some bleeding hearts will testify The fault has not been mine ! For who could hear thy heavenly chime With gladder heart than I ? Who love thee with a fonder love. Or in thy service die ? God raise thee up some faithful man, More prompt to follow on. In doctrine and in holy life, Christ's herald, good St. John ! Give him all boldness to rebuke. And skill thy griefs to cure. And for his heavenly Master's sake, All patience to endure ! 1840.] RESIGNATION OF CHRIST CHURCH. 251 Pursuant to the purpose already suggested in his private corre spondence, he addressed, on his return from Auburn, the following letter to the committee : — BosTOPr, June 19, 1840. Messrs. Bacon, Huggf.ford, Goddard, Farley, and Stimpson, Committee of the Proprietors of Christ Church. My dear Friends : After mature deliberation, and conference with judicious friends, here and elsewhere, not without earnest prayer for the divine guid- ance, I have come reluctantly to the conclusion to request the proprietors to accept my resig-nation of the rectorship of Christ Church, on the last day of the present month. However my judgment may dictate this course, it has cost me a painful effort of feeling which I cannot trust myself to express. Allow me, however, to assure you, that wherever Providence may cast my lot, the interests and welfare of this ancient heritage of God will ever be near to my heart, and that I shall always bear upon my memory the recollections of my imperfect but well-meant ministrations here as the happiest employment of my past life. Permit me also to commend you, and all its members, to God's most holy keeping. I pray that you may be guided in the choice of a successor who will as entirely unite your confidence and regard, and whose labors will be crowned with much more abundant success. Above all, may we so part, that the hallowed ties cemented by the intercourse of the last eleven years may never be severed, but that hereafter, when all the changes and chances of this mortal life are over, we may once more rejoice together, with all tlie dispersed sheep of Christ's flock, as one fold under one Shepherd, in the everlasting kingdom of God's dear Son. Amen. With the yearnings of sincere affection. Your friend and pastor, W. CROSWELL. P. S. I propose to take leave of the parish, with the approbation of the proprietors, on Sunday morning, July 5, and to celebrate with them for the last time, in my present capacity, the affecting mysteries of the Holy Com- The action of the proprietors on this letter is thus officially recorded : — At an adjourned meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church, Boston, held on the evening of the 29th of June, 1840, the wardens and a large number of the proprietors were present. The chairman stated, that the object of the meeting was for the consid- eration, and acting finally, upon the application of the Rev. William Cros- WELL to the proprietors to accept of his resignation as rector of Christ Church. The question being called for, was decided by yeas and nays, in the aflarm- iitivc, in the following words, to wit: — Voted, To accept the resignation of the Rev. William Cro swell, as the rector of this church, when the official sanction (necessary in such cases) shall have been given by the bishop. Voted, That the wardens be authorized to communicate to the Rev. Wil- liam Croswell, rector of this church, the acceptance of his resignation by tlie proprietors. 252 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. The wardens, in discharging the duty thus committed to them, addressed the following affectionate letter to the retiring rector : — Boston, July 18, 1840. Rev. a]Sd dear Sir : Having been appointed a committee for the purpose of answering your communication of the IMi ult., requesting the proprietors of Christ Church to accept your resignation as rector, it has become our duty to enclose a copy of the resolutions adopted by the proprietors, at their meeting on the 29th ult., by which you will perceive they have complied with your request. That this duty is a painful one, you, who so well know our feelings, can well judge. We deeply regret that any circumstances should have occurred to render it expedient to dissolve a connection which it was hoped would have terminated only with your life. But the ways of Providence are inscrutable ; and may He in whose hands we all are, overrule for good to you and us, this which now appears so great an evil. May His choicest blessings attend you in all your future connections. May He in mercy keep and guide you, until at last, having finished your course with joy, having been made the happy instrument of turning many to righteousness, you may be admitted, with those other luminaries who have preceded you in laboring in this portion of God's vineyard, to shine in the kingdom of God your Father, and with them, and all those over whom you . have so faithfully labored, enjoy forever his blissful presence. With sentiments of the greatest respect and affection. We are, dear sir, your friends, ROBERT FARLEY, ? w -q o FRED. H. STIMPSON, \ ^^ardens. To Rev. William Croswell. These official papers are thus spread upon these pages, as the unbiassed testimony of the people of his cure, in their collective capacity, to his pastoral fidelity, and to his eminent qualifications for the place which he had so long held among them. One more voluntary and aff*ecting token of love and veneration, received from a select number of his highly esteemed parishioners, on the day pre- vious to his leave-taking discourse, may fitly be recorded in this place. To Rev. William Croswell. Dear Sir : The subscribers, a few of your numerous friends and parish- ioners, with feelings of the deepest and unfeigned sorrow at the separation which is about to take place, and tendering you their best wishes and earnest prayers for your happiness in the new relations, parochial and matrimonial, you are about to form, respectfully request your acceptance of the accompa- nying CUP, as a small token of their respect and affection for you, and their desire to be had in remembrance. R. M. COPELAND, C. P. GORDON, JAMES PIERCE, E. W. GODDARD FRED. H. STIMPSON. Boston, July 3, 1840. On Sunday, the 5th of July, agreeably to the notice given to the proprietors, he took leave of his people in a farewell discourse 1840.] PARTING TESTIMONIALS. 253 Writing to his father on the 7th, he speaks of this valedictory in the following terms: The church was thronged, and the congregation were generally in tears. " It was, indeed," he says, " a moving scene, and every indication of the most unaffected sorrow was visible on every hand. The communion was never before so large on any occasion. In the afternoon, the members of the other societies poured in, in great numbers, supposing that the farewell discourse was to be delivered then. Though disappointed in that respect, they heard a capital sermon from brother Boyle, who spoke in a few words, of myself and services, in a manner which it would have gratified a parent to hear. It was a great, however sad, day to me ; and I am receiving constantly, from every quarter, the most touching testimonies of respect and regard, and sorrow for my departure. My correspondents are particularly kind." He speaks with peculiar emotion of the " beautiful cup " which he had just received. From a mass of testimonials, and notes of kindness and affection, which are found on his well-arranged files, a few only can be selected as samples of the whole. The following, from the bishop and clergy of Boston and vicinity, must have been exceedingly grateful to his feelings : — Boston, July 11, 1840. Rev. and dear Sir : It is witli deep regret, that the undersigned, youi brethren in the ministry, have learned that you have taken leave of the parish, in which you have so long, so faithfully, and so acceptably labored, and are soon to take your departure for another diocese. In this sentiment all, we believe, who have the pleasure of knowing you, will be ready to share. Per- mit us, on this occasion, to express our unfeigned respect and esteem for your character and accomplishments as a scholar, a gentleman, and a Christian pastor, as well as a true friend of our Apostolic Church, We shall not soon nor easily forget your cheerful cooperation and valuable aid, in promoting the cause of piety, virtue, and charity, in our Church and community ; nor your willingness as a citizen, to take your part in advancing the interests of education in this metropolis, or in any measures conducive to the public welfare. Be assured, reverend and dear sir, that we shall rejoice to hear of your suc- cess and prosperity wherever Providence may direct your steps, and shall sym- pathize in any trials you may be called to endure. May you be happy in your domestic and other relations, and after having long and successfully served your divine Master on earth, have at last the joyful salutation, " Well done, good and faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." Your affectionate friends, ALEXANDER V. GRISWOLD, ISAAC BOYLE, lOHN L. WATSON, ALFRED L. BAURY, E. M. P. WELLS, JOHN S. STONE, THOMAS M. CLARK, THEODORE EDSON, JOSEPH A. CLINCH, ADDISON SEARLE, SAMUEL McBURNEY. Rev. William Croswell. 254 MEMOIR OF WILIJAM CROSWELL. [1840 The Right Rev. Bishop Griswolb, his diocesan, unwilhng, as it would seem, to restrict himself to the formal terms of the ordinary letter dismissory, thus commends him to his brother, the bishop of the western diocese of New York : — To the Right Rev. William H. De Lancey. Dear Sir : The object of this is to transfer from the state of Massachusetts to your diocese, the Rev. William Croswell. Merely to say, that for the three years last past, he has not been justly liable to evil report for error in doctrine, or viciousness of life, though eminently true, seems, in his case, very unnecessary. He will leave behind him no clergyman of the Protestant Episcopal Church more highly, more justly, or more generally esteemed for the qualities which constitute and adorn the gentleman, the scholar, or the faithful minister of Christ. While, with many hundreds of others, I deeply regret his loss to this diocese, I may well congratulate you on such an accession to yours. That in his new situation he may find friends, as many and as cordial as those he leaves, is the prayer of Your friend and brother, ALEX. V. GRISWOLD, Bishop of the Eastern Diocese. Boston, July 17, 1840. To these, it is peculiarly gratifying to add the following letters from the Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, a beloved brother, with whom he had maintained the most intimate relations during his res- idence in Boston : — Boston, June 20, 1840. Rev. and dear Brother : As we are about to separate, under circumstances of peculiar and painful interest, and as our associations will not, probably, be renewed in this part of the Master's vineyard, I cannot leave the city without taking the liberty of expressing to you, in what you may perhaps consider rather a formal manner, but in truth from the overflowings of an afl^ectionate and grateful heart, the deep sense of obligation which I feel, for the share which I have been allowed to enjoy, for more than ten years, in your friend- ship, and for the continued, though unmerited kindness, wliich I have received at your hands. Very pleasant hast thou been unto me, my brother ; and while memory lasts, the most delightful of my reflections will rest upon the scenes of our intercourse. Nor will it, I trust, be without some degree of spiritual improvement, that we have so often taken sweet counsel together, and walked to the house of God in company. In unity of sentiment and of desire, of solicitude and of purpose, we have labored for the welfare of Zion ; and from the views that we have cherished, and the atmospliere that we have breathed in common, I cannot doubt that a salutary influence has gone forth to direct and sustain us, in the paths of our pilgrimage to eternity. I could have wished that no change might take place in our relations to the Church in Massachusetts ; but from an acquaintance with all things involved in the case, I am satisfied that you have come to a wise and just decision. May the Spirit of God order it for the promotion of your own happiness, and the ad- vancement of the Redeemer's cause. And be assured, my beloved friend and brother, that wherever you go, and however you may be situated, there is one, among your many admirers, whose prayers for your prosperity and your usefulness will never cease. I know not where to look for the counsel and the aid which I have so long been accustomed to receive from you ; but He who ordereth all things aright will uphold us in our trials, and relieve us in our wants. To Him, and tlie word of His grace, I commend you ; and may He so direct our course, 1840.] PARTING TESTIMONIALS. 2SS that among all tlie changes and chances of this mortal life, we may so live, that when the cares and the sorrows, the duties and the dangers, of our present state are over, we may be united in the rich inheritance of his ever- lasting kingdom. Most sincerely and affectionately, Your unchanging friend and brother, T. STRONG. Greenfield, July 8, 1840. Mt dearest friend and Brother : I cannot express to you my grati- tude for yonr kindness, and the sympathy that I feel in your trials, renewed in the reception of those beautiful lines,* which I shall treasure up as a precious gift of your love, and a most faithful transcript of your mind. You have, ere this, I suppose, experienced all the bitterness of the parting scene, and I think the members of your late parish must, without exception, be filled with sorrow and distress. . . . The connection that has existed so long and so prosperously between yourself and Christ Church is now dissolved ; and it must be a cause of great satisfaction to you that it has been brought about without any seeking or fault on the part of the rector, and that you go hence with the unchanged affection and best wishes of those whose opinions and friendship you most value. I have no doubt that you will leave your accustomed associations, the places and the people in which you have for many years delighted, with no ordinary sensations of regret : but the consciousness of integrity in relation to the past, and the prospect of distinguished usefulness in view of the fu- ture, will be sufficient to comfort and sustain you. May the Spirit of God be your unfailing attendant, guiding you through all the changes and chances of this mortal life, and rendering you instrumental in turning multitudes from darkness to light, and from the power of sin and Satan to the living God. I hope, my dear brother, that you will not forget, in the place of your west- ern labors, to turn your thoughts occasionally towards the rising of the sun. I shall expect to hear from you after your settlement in the pleasant shades of Auburn ; and I need not assure you of the continuance of my fervent prayers for your prosperity and happiness. Could you, in passing to and from Boston, take Greenfield in your way, you may be certain of a cordial wel- come at the parsonage, and a quiet resting place. Farewell! God be with you! Affectionately, your friend and brother, T. STRONG. But these gratifying testimonials were not confined solely to his clerical brethren. Several laymen, with whom he had maintained a close and intimate friendship, — such as Robert Farley, Esq., of his own parish, George Brinley, Esq., formerly of Trinity Church, but residing at the time in Hartford, Dr. A. F. Stone, of Greenfield, and Edward A. Newton, Esq., of Pittsfield, — took this opportunity to express their unfeigned regret at the necessity of his removal, and their ardent wishes for his future prosperity. But these expressions are so mingled with personal and private allusions, that it would be hardly proper to make extracts. A single passage may be detached from a letter of the last-named gentleman, whose zeal and liberality as a Churchman and a Christian are well known throughout the United States. * The lines entitled « St. John Baptist's Day." 256 MEMOIR OF \\r[LL.IAM CROSWELL. [1840. " I have observed, with real regret, from a notice of the pro- ceedings of our late convention, that you are about to leave the diocese. You will carry ^^ith you the esteem and respect of all who have truly known you. I know of no clergyman in the diocese who has more faithfully discharged his duties, and oftentimes under most discouraging circumstances. I pray God to bless you abun- dantly in all the new relations you are about to form ; to make you happy, and continue your usefulness here, and give you a crown of glory in the world to come." He alludes feelingly to these concluding tokens of affection, in his last letter from Boston to his father, July 13. Even at this mo- ment, it is perceived, his buoyant spirit does not forsake him. " My position," he says, " reminds me of that remarkable character in one of Prior's ballads, who, being so unfortunate as to come into collision with the laws, ' Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart, And often took leave, but seemed loath to depart' I was all the week packing goods and chattels, and it was not till Saturday that they were shipped for the forwarding house at Albany. I linger therefore yet another seven days, to recruit my exhausted strength, and to say a word at pai'ting to the troops of friends, in and out of the parish, who are doing every thing in their power to make my last days truly delightful. If any thing were needed to prove that my ministry here has not been entirely in vain, it is in the beautiful exercise of Christian affection which the occasion has called out in every quarter. I have a host of letters from my corre- spondents all about me ; and under circumstances which make them tests of sincerity, as you will see when you come to read them." But the scene now changes to his new cure. His acceptance of this cure was conveyed in the following note, addressed to the Committee of the Vestry : — Boston, Jidy 1, 1840. Gentlemen : In accordance with the expectations held out during my late visit to Auburn, you are hereby authorized to inform the vestry that I accept their unanimous invitation to become the rector of St. Peter's Church, and purpose, God willing, to enter on the service of the parish with the least possible delay. The motives which have led me to this decision are such, I humbly trust, as will commend themselves to the divine approval, and jus- tify the hope of a blessing upon the proposed connection. Looking to the Great Head of the Church as the Source of that strength which is alone suf- ficient to sustain me in the arduous responsibilities which I am about to assume, I feel how greatly I shall need the exercise of your most charitable constructions, and throw myself upon your Christian sympathies, and beg the benefit of your prayers. Most sincerely. Your friend and servant in the gospel, WILLIAM CROSWELL. 1840.J ARRIVAL AT .AUBURN. 257 A hasty note to liis father, on Thursday, July 30, announces his safe arrival at Auburn ; and his predecessor havinj!^ already left the place, his effects were deposited in the vacant parsonage. He met with a flattering reception ; and, as the pulpit had been unsup- plied for the last four Sundays, his arrival was welcomed with every demonstration of gratification. Of his opening services, as rector of the parish, he thus writes under date of August 4 : " Sunday was a trying but delightful day. The people, so long deprived of the ser- vices, returned to the sanctuary, with a yearning for their renewal, which was much in my favor. They were attentive and apparently gratified. During parts of the service, I could scarcely restrain my tears ; and in secret prayer before sermon, I gave way to emotion. 1 was able to command myself during the delivery, though I could not of course feel quite at home. It was another funeral discourse. They watch for your souls, as they that must give account. I never felt more deeply impressed with the weight of my ministerial responsi- bilities, or needed more that grace be given, through the intercession of many, so to discharge them as to be enal)led to render my account with joy and not with grief. The minds of the hearers appeared to be as deeply solemnized as my own. In the afternoon, I preached one of the last sermons prepared for Christ Church : Ye now, th(^'c- fore, have sorrow, &c., as most in unison with my own melancholy feelings. Every thing, on the whole, seemed to be as satisfactory as was expected." During a few of the following days, he favored several of his cor- respondents with letters of peculiar interest ; from some of which, it is deemed a privilege to make the following extracts. Writing to his cousin Elizabeth on Sunday, August 9, he. says, "I write you on the most sacred of days, and from one of the most saci-ed of places, the study of the parsonage, hallowed as the chamber whence the spirits of Hobart and Lucas both passed from earth to heaven. Looking down into the green and quiet churchyard, the peace of the scene steals into my heart, and I feel blessed with a foretaste of much enjoyment and communion with them. The walls around me have been witnesses to much suffering ; but it has been such suffer- ing, we trust, as terminates in eternal glory, and we sorrow not as those without hope. It was, methinks, on the eve of such a day as this, when the setting sunbeams penetrated, with a checkered light, through the leaves of the locust trees that shade the windows, that Bishop Hobart desired to be lifted up to see once more the orb of day, and made some thrilling allusion to the Sun of Righteousness, in whose light he should soon see light. It reminds me of those two stanzas on the Black Prince, in Rob Roy, which, with a little change, might be applied to our great spiritual champion : — 33 258 MEMOIR OF ^VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840- ' " Raise my faint head, my squires," he said, " And let the casement be displayed, That I may see once more The splendor of the setting sun Gleam on tliy mirrored wave, Garonne, And Blaye's impurpled shore. " Like me he sinks to glory's sleep ; His fall the dews of evening steep, As if in sorrow shed. So soft shall fall the trickling tear When England's maids and matrons hear Of their Black Edward dead." ' The associations with the departed give the place a solemnity and impress! veness, which, with the character of the day, is calcu- lated to inspire tender thoughts. It is good to be here ; and I realize some of the advantages to which Young alludes, where he says, — ' The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged above the common walk.' The stillness of this deserted house has helped to suggest this train of contemplation. The study is the only room, yet reduced to order ; but by the kind exertions of my friends, it will soon be rendered comfortable, and ready for the reception of my other self." Writing to the Rev. Dr. Strong one or two days later, he falls into a similar train of reflection, and then adds, '« I have been re- ceived here in a manner, my dear friend, to make amends for any past trial of my feelings. . . . May God give me grace to be humble, not idolizing myself, nor being idolized by others. Nothing can be more gratifying than the prompt and cordial terms of con- gratulation with which I have been welcomed by the bishop, and those of the clergy, whose interests have been longest identified with that of the diocese, as the elder worthies. . . . The only return I can make, will be to endeavor to deserve their confidence. I can truly say, that the fines have fallen unto me in pleasant places, and that prospects of usefulness are unfolding themselves on every side. Those who have preceded me have made the path of duty easy and pleasant before me. I shall make it my effort to preach sound doctrine, and administer wholesome discipline, and to walk by the same rules, going with them, shoul- der to shoulder, in sustaining old-fashioned Church principles, and upholding the arms of the bishop. 1 trust, in short, to be a fol- lower of those who have gone before, as they followed Christ, 1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBITRN. 250 whether living or dead ; and especially to beg^in where he ended, whose jj^reat spirit was breathed out here, and whose last sermon was, ' The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.'' " Soon after his settlement in Auburn, he also wrote an affection- ate letter to his friend and brother, the Rev. Addison Searle, who, as a chaplain in the United States navy, was at the time stationed at the navy yard in Charlestown. He had been in the habit of cor- responding with Mr. Searle, in former years, while he was absent with the American squadron in South America ; and had been in- strumental, with other friends, in procuring his situation at the navy yard. While there, they were on terms of great intimacy ; and Mr. Searle, being a warm-hearted and devoted man, always held him- self in readiness to assist the rector in his official duties ; and no man ever occupied the desk and pulpit with more general accept- ance to the congregation. Before closing this memoir, occasion will be found to record the melancholy deatii of this worthy servant of God, at sea, on board the squadron in the Mediterranean. A letter, dated August 13, expresses many of the sentiments already cited. He then adds, " It is a grateful transition to live in a land where one may preach Catholic doctrine without exciting suspicion as to the soundness of his Protestantism ; where Churchmen, as Dr. Johnson says, are not frightened by what is no longer dangerous, 'eaten up with a morbid dread of Popery, when the land is almost swallowed up of Presbytery, and crying. Fire ! fire ! in Noah's flood.' Yet do not suppose that I can ever forget the dear friends I have left behind. My heart turns aback, as I muse of the happy hours which I have spent at your kind and generous board. I am anticipating with great delight the comforts of housekeeping, and hope, at some early day, to have an opportunity of reciprocating your proverbial hosjjitality, and being smoked at my own table as freely as I ever was at yours. ' Though, to be sure,' as Dr. John- son again says, ' it is a shocking thing, this blowing smoke out of our own mouths into other people's eyes, mouths, and noses, and having the same thing done to us.' " A loving rebuke of his good brother's inveterate habit of smoking. His letters to his father at this period are generally of a free and familiar nature, and are chiefly occupied with his private affairs, and especially his contemplated nuptials and domestic arrange- ments, from which, and from the prospects of happiness and use- fulness in his new pastoral relations, he was very naturally antici- pating a large amount of enjoyment. Still, in reference to his pa- rochial concerns, he could not forget, amid the warm congratula- tions of his new friends, the salutary lesson which he had learned in his recent bitter experience — that the few persons in his late cure who were the first to betray symptoms of disaffection, and to 260 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CIIOSWELL. [1840. endeavor to spread that disaffection, were among tlie most enthusi- astic of his admirers on his settlement in Christ Church. From his casual correspondence, however, a few extracts may be made. August 10, he writes, " I went to Geneva on Wednesday- Passed for the first time the Cayuga bridge, — as famous in history as the bridge of Lodi, — the candidate for governor, in every po- litical campaign passing it, in a figure of speech, with so many thousand majority, east or west. It is more than a mile in length. The waters have a sea-green hue, and the landscape would inspire volumes of sentiment, if it were only European." He found Gene- va as picturesque and romantic as he expected from the description of travellers, and cites Percival's line, " On thy fair bosom, silver lake," as a representation of the beautiful sheet of waters, on the shores of which the village stands. The college was then compar- atively in its infancy, and the number of graduates at this com- mencement was small. " If," he says, " their heads were not as full of learning as the Oxford students, tlieir square caps were at least as large, and their gowns as graceful." He met on this occa- sion the two bishops of New York, with some thirty of the clergy, and had, as he remarks, " a pleasant time at the bishop's, whose seat is delightfully situated on the banks of the lake." Monday, August 17, he writes, " We had three services yester- day, and a pleasant catechizing round the chancel. The lambs have been well fed, and my predecessors have made my path very pleasant and plain before me. I trust to follow them as they fol- lowed Christ." On the following day he addressed a letter to his mother, enclos- ing the subjoined stanzas, written in anticipation of his approaching nuptials : " As the time draws on, dear mother, when I am to change my condition, and enter into the holy state of marriage, I long to comfort you with the assurance that no movement has been made in so important a matter but in the fear of God, and with mutual prayers to him, that he would be pleased to go along with us, in our entering in, and passing through, this state. The com- panion whom he has chosca fi)r me promises to become a great blessing and comfort to me ; a sharer in all my joys, a refresh- ment in all my sorrows ; a meet helper for me in all the ways of godhness. I am sure that you will dearly love each other, and that she will indeed be to you as a daughter. ... I need not say how deeply it enters into all my plans, to think how much pleasure this or that arrangement will afford you, when you come to visit us here ; and I humbly trust that we may find together, in some hour of domestic enjoyment, all that earth aflxjrds, as a fore- taste of the enduring joys of heaven ! " 1840.] ST. PETER'S, ArBURN. 261 Methinks those joyous bells will ring In my rapt ear with holiest power, When I within that shrine shall bring The offering of my nuptial hour ; And I shall feel the debt I owe For all the past of hope and love, Dear Church, that gives so much below, In pledge of more reserved above ! Though brief the time in service spent. How long and dear its ties shall be ! As precious and " as permanent As numbers of eternity ; " * For though no bridal bond be theirs Who in the resurrection rise, Yet from their graves " all holy pairs " Pass to their union in the skies O, may that worthiness be mine, To walk hereafter by her side O'er whom I joy, in rites divine, As joys the bridegroom o'er the bride. Together may we join the throng , Who follow at their Savior's call, And celebrate in mystic song The heavenly marriage festival ! In a subsequent letter to his father, he speaks thus of these verses : " I sent mother a copy of the maschil, or song of loves, which I had written to the chief musician upon Shoshaunim. There is truth in it, if there be no poetry ; and all poetry, as we see by holy writ, is by no means fiction. My prayer therein is as sincere as any in the Golden Grove of .Jeremy Taylor." In tliis letter, he cites, with evident gratification, and with a " blessing on the little unsophisticated heart of the Boston medal boy," the fol- lowing incident: "At the last annual exhibition of the EHot School," a school which he had long served as one of the com- mittee, " one of the medal boys, in his closing address, said to the connnittee, ' But comes there no regret with this hour 1 One is missing from your ranks, whose gently-approving smile has often mingled with yours, to gladden our hearts, and whose presence to- day we would fain have welcomed ; but he has gone to labor in a distant part, and with him go our warmest wishes for his prosperity and happiness.' " * See Jeremy Taylor's seiinon " On tlie Spousal Ring." 2(i-2 MEMOIR OF WILIJAM CKOSAVELL. [1840. The 27th of August was the anniversary of the death of his pred- ecessor. It was a solemn day to him ; and the following hues, penned on the occasion, show the current of his musings : — IN MEMORY OF MY BELOVED FRIEND AND PREDECESSOR, THE REV. WILLIAM LUCAS. Three years ago, dear friend, to-day, Thy chastened spirit passed away ; And musing in the room, The last thy earthly footsteps trod. In walk, like Enoch, close with God, Light kindles up the gloom. In all thy steps thus may I tread, And feed the flock as thou hast fed, And make my lot my choice. Till, reaping where thou well hast sown, At harvest home, before the throne, I may with thee rejoice ! W. C. St. Peter's Parsonage, Auburn, Auffust 27, 1840. The next letter, in point of date, from wliich a few" extracts are taken, is addressed to his excellent friend and brother, the Rev. John L. Watson, assistant minister of Trinity Church, Boston. September 4, after speaking, as he had done to others, of the pleasantness of his situation, he proceeds : " The transition from the excitements of the city to tiie tranquillity of this rural retreat has not been so strongly marked as I anticipated. My mind has been fully occupied with pleasant engagements ; and when it might otherwise have fallen back upon itself, I have betaken myself to conmiunion witii those whom I bave left behind. Every thing is favorable to systematic division of time. The mornings are unin- terrupted, and all calls are expected to be made in the afternoon and evening. I hope to make up for lost hours, and do some study. . . . -Thirty days hath September,' and two impor- tant events call me about the same time : the one to Buffalo, the other to Boston. The first is an aiiniKtl convention, and there- fore less important than the latter, which I hope will occur but once in my life. I siiall probal)ly be in the midst of you, for the last time in the enjoyment of my single blessedness, about the last of the month. 1 cannot be more exjjhcit now, but shall be prompt to report myself and iny arrangements on my arrival." 1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 263 Pending bis preparations for this journey, lie found time, it would seem, to indulge his poetical vein ; and the following stanzas are alluded to in his journal as having been written at this time : LAKE OWASCO. " One of the seven fair lakes that lie Like mirrors 'neath the summer sky." Ensenobe. Fair lake, upon thy tranquil face The gilded clouds, in rich array, Reflected pass, and leave no trace — Types of thy people passed away ! And he who through thy pictured page Looks deepest down, with rapture sees, Like relics of that long-lost age. The glimmerings of dim mysteries. Well may the statesmen, for such seats. Resign the empire's helm awhile. And deep within thy green retreats. The languid summer hours beguile. Here Scipio had, in joy, repaired With Lselius, at the Senate's close, And by thy shaded strand had shared The charms of friendship and repose. Bright visions haunt thy storied dells, Nor may thy crystal waters drown The mingled pomps of poets' spells, And legends of thine old renown. To fancy's ear they utter speech In tones unsyllabled before. And every ripple on the beach Seems faintly whispering, " Ensenore ! But one more passage is selected from bis correspondence, before his departure for Boston, for the purpose of consummating bis mar- riage engagement with Miss Tarbell. He thus closes a letter, * Enseuore, a poem, by Mr. ISIyers, a vouug gentleman of his parish, and a superintendent of his Sunday school. ' The poem was founded on an Indian legend ; and the scene was laid on the banks of the beautiful Lake Owasco, the fairest of the seven sister hikes, which lie in a cluster in the neigh- borhood of Auburn. •364 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. September 19, to the Misses Clark, daughters of the late senior warden of Christ Church, who, with tlieir family, had always been among the kindest of his own confidential friends, as well as those of his betrothed: "I would fain speak on any subject, except my late change. On that I cannot trust myself to say what I have felt, and what I always must feel. It has been more in my thoughts by day, and my dreams by night, than all things else, save one. Re- member me to those whom you know with yourselves to have been especially dear to me. In that bright circle I include, with a ten- derness of regard which I am now free to express, our mutual iVieud, Miss H . The recollections of hours passed in sweet society with you will be cherished as the greenest spots in the past ; and iiope ever mingles with them for their renewal hereafter." Having now made the necessary arrangements for his journey, he left Auburn on the 21st of September, and taking the convenient route, by the way of Albany, New York, and Stonington, arrived at Boston on the morning of the 24th. He had been borne along on his journey by the most joyous anticipations, expecting a happy cir- cle of friends to meet him on his arrival. But, alas ! what a change awaited him ! Grief had taken the place of gladness, and all hearts were overwhelmed with sorrow. But the story must be told in his own language. Writing to his father on the following day, he says, " How presumptuous are our calculations of the future ! How little we know what a day may bring forth ! I left New York at five on Wednesday evening, and arrived here at seven yesterday morning, after a most delightful trip, and in fine spirits. I was met near the depot, by a message from Amanda, that her sister Mary died very suddenly on Tuesday evening, by an attack of bleeding at the lungs, to which she had nearly fallen a victim last winter. At five, P. M., she was walking in the street, by midnight she was a corpse ! This aftlic- tive providence has overwhelmed the family with grief, and of course a;;"L'cts our arrangements, to what extent I cannot say, but may probably be able to inform you to-morrow. Mary was a lovely girl, of great sweetness and gentleness of temper, naturally, and by the discipline of affliction, of which she had had her share, made still mure so. Her health had long been delicate, and her betrothed sev- eral years since fell a victim to consumption. She took the most tender and affectionate interest in all Amanda's prospects, and was waiting with some impatience for my return, to decide on the expe- diency of spending the winter with us at Auburn. Her friends felt doubtful of her ability to take so long a journey ; but she herself was sanguine of her feufficiency to bear it. How little any of us thought she would be so soon journeying to a farther land, and the house be the scene of such different solemnities ! She looks like one just fallen asleep, and, I trust, in Jesus. The funeral takes place 1840.J ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 265 to-day. My impression is, that it will postpone our marriage for a few days, but not longer. It will make it a reason why it should be as strictly private as I always wished. I shall propose that it be in the house, and in the presence of the family only. It gives a more saddening and touching interest to the consecrated bond which binds us together; and I trust will complete any work which an unfilled cup of adversity has left undone. May it be hallowed and sanctified to us all." The marriage was solemnized, on the 1st of October, at one o'clock, P. M., in the presence of the family, and a very i'ew friends, the Right Rev. Bishop Griswold officiating on the occasion. The parties, having taken leave of their friends, proceeded as far as Springfield the same day. The next day they reached Hartfvd, where they remained, receiving calls and congratulations, until the day following. They then proceeded to New Haven, where the bride was introduced, lor the first time, to the family at the parson- age, to the mutual gratification of all parties. After spending a few days in this pleasant interchange of courtesies, they again took up their journey to their new home, and arrived at Auburn on the 10th. In his first letter after their arrival, he acknowledges the receipt of a beautiful copy of the Oxford Bible, from his brother Price, as a wedding present — a gift on which he set a high value. He adds, " We found every thing as it should be here. Mrs. Lucas has done every thing to make our situation at the cot- tage agreeable. The parish also have been very kind and attentive. We hope in a few days to have all matters in order at the par- sonage." The following letter, addressed to a number of ladies, who had associated for the purpose of presenting him with a valuable parting gift, must be given entire : — St. Peter's Parsonage, Auburn, October 27, 1840. My dear Friends : It is just a month to-day since I received at your hands, as the representatives of many dear members of my late flock in Boston, that costly token of your affection and regard, which was intended "to recall to mind, in the sacred enclosure of my home, wherever that home might be, the memory of those who had been connected with me by such hallowed and endearing ties." In the tumultuous and conflicting feelings of that solemn moment, I could not command myself to express the emotions which well nigh overpowered me ; and I now sit down, at this distance of time and place, amidst new scenes of duty, and surrounded by the domestic enjoyments with which God has blessed me beyond my deserts, to record the acknowledgments to which my full heart has almost daily given utterance. 34 2GG MEMOIR or WILLIAM CllOSWELL. [1840. May God reward you, and the dear friends whose names are as- sociated with yours in this renewed evidence of your attachment. Highly as I cherished it while I was yet present ^\^th you, I could myself have been but little aware how tenderly and proudly I should treasure it in my absence from you. He only who has been sud- denly wakened from his dream of a permanent local habitation with those whom he has most loved on earth, wlio has been called to bid a reluctant adieu to the sacred scenes from which he fondly thought never to have been severed but with life — he only can tell its inesti- mable value. Amid the salutary discipline of such trials, it reminds him of something permanent and abiding. It speaks of rich and precious affections, which " cannot be gotten for gold, neither can siL^t'R be weiglied for the price thereof." To live in such affec- tions, next to the approbation of his God, must be the highest de- light of the Christian. Long may this delight be ours on earth, and after death, endure as the days of heaven. Let me urge you, as it were my last dying request, to continue to nourish these affections at the same holy altar where we have so long kneeled together. Cleave steadfastly to the old paths, wherein you have found rest for your souls. Believe me, that there is not a street, a lane, or an alley, which contains the dwelling-place of a parishioner, to which I do not still feel an intimate relation ; and for the dear Church of my first love, God is my witness that I have loved it beyond any other abode, yea, thiit I have " preferred .Terusalem above my chief joy." There I trust to meet you often in spirit before the throne of grace ; there, should God spare my life, I look forward to the time when we shall be gathered together face to face, in my visits to the city of my fathers, and be made more and more meet for our citizenship in heaven. There, remember me in your prayers, that we, who have parted with so many tears, may hereafter, before the sap- pliire throne, and on the sea of glass, unite in the praises which the soldiers of Him who loved us and died for us shall forever sing in unison ! Affectionately and truly, Yours, in the best of bonds, WILLIAM CROSWELL. Mrs. Joseph P. Couthouy, Miss Eunice T. Harris, and the Ladies associated with them. In a letter of the same date, addressed to one of these excellent friends, he says, " The sight of so many familiar pieces of furniture about us, and so many common subjects of interest between us, make us already quite at home in the parsonage ; and instead of a strange abode, every thing, at times, seems to go on just as it might have been doing for the last twenty years. . . . Our house is very comfortably furnished, and we have abundance of in-door 1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN, 267 mutual delights. Our paths have been so long, however, haunted by a few, dear, daily faces, that Me cannot but deeply feel their loss ; and we are vain enough to thiuk that it would be happy for them, as well as ourselves, if they could be with us, at least for a little while." Here may be added one or two brief extracts from a letter, of about the same date, to Miss Callahan, whom he was always happy to address as his " very dear friend." As the relative of his de- parted brother Winslow, and for her personal worth, he held her in high estimation. " You cannot doubt," he says, " that I must have been deeply touched by the affectionate and sympathizing ex- pression of your feelings, which awaited me on my return to Boston, and by that dear little gift that accompanied them, the Lyra Apos- tolica, ever to be fondly cherished for its own sake and yours, and more from the value it acquired as being one of the favorite compan- ions of our beloved Winslow's last hours. . . . The little book has been a great comfort to me in my lonely hours, and has served to bind us all, living and dead, as it were, together, and in the saints' communion. The two beautiful pieces which Benjamin selected with so true an instinct are worth all the rest: indeed, there is nothing else like them ; and my wife and I have read them over and over again with increased delight, and a deeper consciousness of their pure and soothing tendency, at every repetition. We seem to hear the voice of the dear departed, who being dead yet speak- eth, especially when brought in connection with the very precious relics of tree and flower, which you have sent us from his much frequented grave. I trust, before many months, to visit that hal- lowed spot, and nourish the hopes that bid us, on God's assurance, to look forward and upward, to the promise of eternal reunion hereafter. Meanwhile, rest assured there is nothing you could have given me which I should prize so highly, and with all the rest, the cross is so dehghtfully associated." The following passage is from a letter to a particular friend, un- der date of November 30 : " The wind is blowing a gale about the house, and if I was as near to Christ Church as when we were last together, I should have some reason to apprehend the doom of those upon whom the tower of Siloam fell. As it is, if it should topple down now, it will not rest upon my head, any more than the respon- sibility of vacating the pastoral chair. Last night, I perceive, the institution office was once more to be repeated ; and to-day a new- shepherd walks abroad, with the guiding crook and staff of two surviving rectors. . . . If 1 do not congratulate the present incumbent, 1 pray, with all sincerity, that he may be strengthened for an arduous course of dutv, — 268 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840. 'Having all boldness to rebuke, And skill her griefs to cure, And for his heavenly Master's sake All patience to endure.' It is a subject, of course, on which I cannot but think and feel much, but on which it is wisest for me, at least, to say as little as possible." With one more extract, the correspondence of the present year must be closed. December 28 he thus writes to his fatlier : " Since I wrote last, we have been through all the elevating excitements of another Christmas, and the wear and tear incident to tlie prepara- tion. The materials for decorating the sanctuary are not various in this region, and hemlock is the only available evergreen at this season. The young people, however, made the most of it ; and you would hardly have supposed that all our verdure was of the same species, wreaths, and boughs. We had a most delightful day, and the church was well attended. . . . The music was fine and inspiring ; and I trust many a soul magnified the Lord, and many a spirit rejoiced in God their Savior. It brought the past very greenly to remembrance, and I was in many places besides Auburn in the course of the day." A peculiar interest is imparted to the following incident, by the fact that the subject was an aged sea captain, who had been brought up under Quaker influences, and though now, in his retirement, a constant attendant on the worship of the Church, had always looked upon the sacraments as mere matters of outward form, without any binding force or spiritual efiicacy : " On Wednesday evening before Christmas, I had the satisfaction to administer baptism to old Captain Gardner, in the presence of his family. It was a solemn and im- pressive scene, and I have hardly ever known an instance where it was received with a deeper appreciation of the covenant blessings of which it is the appointed sign and seal. He has since rapidly failed. The light flickers in the candlestick, and will expire perhaps before morning. He seems to be dying the death of a righteous man." It may be proper to add, in this place, that Captain Gardner lingered till the lOth of the ensuing .January, when " he departed without a struggle or a sigh, retaining his consciousness to the time of his last sleep, and with a joyous hope in Ciirist, which robbed Death of all his sting. He was buried from the church. The whole population of the village gathered, as one large family, to his funeral ; and though, at his own request, springing from a desire to avoid parade and ostentation, there was no sermon deliv- ered then, that duty was performed on the following Sunday." 1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 269 1841. Though his removal to Auburn very much increased the number of his corresjioiulents, a regular weekly interchange of letters was kept up with his father. After arranging his file for the past year, he says, January 4, " I have received just fifty-two letters, loaded with the testimony to the passage of the weeks of 1840. They are all before me in orderly array, like the uniform sheets of some well-printed quarto." But he feels constrained, at the same time, to apologize for the brevity of his own letters, and speaks of them as comparatively meagre and unsatisfactory. " I would fain promise," he says, " to do better in future ; but I fear I shall not be able to keep my promise if I do. I cannot but feel very sensibly, at this season, the lack of incident and excitement, which used to give such an impression to their passage in Boston, and of which those only who have experienced it can have any con- ception. Christmas and New Year have passed merrily and hap- pily, and I trust profitably, but very unlike, I must needs say, the same blessed days at the east. I do not wish to make any invidious contrasts ; but as one who has tried them botli, I can say, that in this respect there is nothing gained by the exchange. I have every thing here to be thankful for, and I would not breathe to another human being what I have said above. Every day seems to be adding to my strength and acceptance with the people, and my ability, of course, to do good. The parishioners are considerate of wliat is due to the comfort and necessities of their minister ; and their way of showing that they are so is quite as liberal, at least, as in the quarters from whence I came. I do not, therefore, commence the new year in a repining or querulous spirit ; but you must not be surprised if 1 fill my letters with nothing more interest- ing than our own household aftairs week after week, of the winter at least." No such apology was necessary. His letters were always a delight to his father's household, even though literally confined to private and domestic matters. But many things conspired at this time to throw an air of despondency over his spirit. It was mid- winter, and the rigor of the climate, with a constant recurrence of violent headache, with its general influence upon his physical and mental powers, were more than sufficient to produce this eftect. But he still describes his pastoral relations as perfectly pleasant and agreeable, and the parsonage as " quite a paradise." .Tannary 11, on hearing of the sudden death of a beloved yoimg relative in New Haven, he thus writes: "The news of S 's death was as sad as unexpected. I can hardly conceive of it, or 270 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSM^ELL. [1841. think of her except as I saw her last, in the flower of youth and beauty. But I love to remember her, and so as I trust we shall all see her again, and in still lovelier grace. Of all modes of bereave- ment, what so distressing ? Her husband has indeed had sorrow upon sorrow, in this and other ways, and I hope these repeated visitations will not be lost upon him. As the years pass away with such fearful swiftness, we should all remember how little time may be left us for the great work we have to do, and act accordingly. I bow my knees to God, that this dispensation may be sanctified to us ; that we may meet in bliss, when these former things shall have passed away." After alluding to many other trials which were falling under his daily observation, he adds, " In the midst of all these trials, we have every thing to be thankful for in the enjoy- ment of health, and in the kind appreciation of our friends and parishioners. Our friends abroad are not forgetful of us, and let- ters are pouring in upon us from all quarters. They impose a pleasant but somewhat laborious necessity upon us, in the way of correspondence ; but, like those of housekeeping, they are pleasing cares." •January 28, he writes : " Monday, dear father, was St. Paul's day, the twelfth memorable anniversary of my ministerial life ; and I turned to look down the brief but crowded vista, and marked the illuminated points gleaming on either hand, till it terminated in the gate of THE ORDINAL. ' No man taketh this honor to himself but he that is called of God, as was Aaron.' And when we are all dressed for it as was Aaron, [HerberVs Aaron, I mean,) may we find as easy a passage hence, whether it be from Mount Hor or Mount Auburn." The beauty of this allusion will be the more ap- parent by reference to Herbert's "Aaron," of which the following is the first stanza: — " Holiness on the head ; Light and perfections on the breast ; Harmonious bells below, raising the dead, To lead them unto life and rest ; Thus are true Aarons dressed." The following extract from the same letter is so characteristic of the overflowing kindness of his heart, that it ought not to be with- held. The subject of it has long since passed beyond the reach of earthly censure or praise ; and, as we have no reason to doubt, is enjoying, in the paradise of God, the sweet communion and fellow- ship of his younger brother. " The Rev. , who has been lingering around here for the last fortnight, with a view of establishing a school, now that he draws a pension from the fund for disabled clergymen, has bestowed a full share of his tediousness 1841. J ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 271 upon us, and officiated on Siindiiy, P. M. He succeeded much better than I had reason to suppose, and in private appears to such a degree of advantage, hoth as a Christian and a man of inteHi- gence, as to confirm me in the oj)ini()n I have often had occasion to express, that we are most apt to deal uncharitably with a clergy- man who is unfortunate enough to be unpopular ; and that those of whom they have most occasion to complain, in this respect, are their own brethren in the ministry of reconciliation. He is not without his faults, doubtless, — alas ! who is ? — but with regard to these, it is a small matter to be judged of man's judgment. Let me fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercies are great ; but let me not fall into the iiands of men, especially when I am old and gray-headed, — ' And days are dark, and friends are few,' — and those whose sympathies we have most relied on, as being of the house of our friends, inflict the severest wounds, and pierce us through with words like sharp arrows. For my own part, the face of a brother is so rare a sight in these parts, that I have derived good satisfaction from many of my interviews with old Mr. ." Such passages as the following are frequently thrown out in his familiar correspondence with his father. Nothing can furnish so clear an index of the devout spirit that ever reigned in his heart. This is under date of February 8, the day after communion. " It was a delightful day, and we enjoyed the services greatly. If ever the heart expands towards all, whether present or distant, who are dear to us on earth, it is as we commemorate Him whose love is stronger than death, and binds kindred minds to each other in the holiest bonds of fellowship. In that spirit, I trust, I have regarded you at those moments, and embraced you in the compass of the petitions that then ascend to heaven." In the same letter he speaks of having written to a lady to whom he had presented the original lines, entitled "The Ordinal," and from whom he had received, at the time, a beautiful sermon case, the first he had ever had occasion to use. As for the ordination, he says, " The impressions produced by those scenes can never be efl:aced by any through which I may yet be called to pass. I could not but tell her how I dwelt on them, and fed, as it were, on the manna of my past experiences. Nor was my earliest sermon case forgot, With velvet cover, and with vellum lined ; The opening collects on the left-hand page, And on the right-hand those of closing prayer, With skill imprinted at the Wickham press. Though soiled and worn, yet not more soiled and worn 272 MEMOIR OF WILIJAM CROSWELL. [1841. Than are the clingy sheets I fasten in, Oft as I preach contemporaneous notes. Not so the truths themselves, nor truest love, Decay and perish, though the world was old And threadbare as the velvet, and the skies Be shrivelled parchment at the day of doom ! " February 1.5, he writes, " Yesterday we had but two services, as I had rather a severe cold, and am desirous to be in full strength for the extra services, which commence with the o])ening of the Lent season. It is always as delightful as it is solemn, and the more so now, as it comes invested with all the tender associations of the past. Alas ! how difficult it is for me to realize, as I look at the picture of Christ Church, which liangs before me, that a year lias elapsed since those agitations commenced wliich resulted in my reniovaj hither. I bless in my iieart all those who pass through those an- cient gates, as often as they are now open, and trust they still find it, as of old, ' all glorious within.' Doubtless there is reason to believe that none of these things, in the end, will be against me ; and it is not they who brought me hither, but God." The next letters in course to his father and other correspondents contain, among many interesting particulars, a sort of programme of the proposed services for the approaching Lenten season. Febru- ary 22, his wife, acting as his amanuensis, writes, " Your son has been suffering to-day from a severe sick headache, in consequence of over- exertion yesterday, and thinks it would be imprudent to make any effort of this kind. ... I think a person must be very strong to be able to officiate three times on Sunday, without injury. He has never done so since he has been here without being obliged to give up one day at least the ensuing week. He had a baptism yes- terday, in addition to three ordinary services. Last evening he com- menced a course of lectures on Confirmation, as the bishop proposes to visit the parish on the Sunday before Easter. ... St. Peter's is to be opened for the morning service and sermon, every Wednes- day and Friday during Lent. The people appear to be quite ])leased with this arrangement, and I hope will derive much benefit from it." To this he adds a note : " I have been preparing myself for the great fast, by passing a day of abstinence. I am just emerging from headache, and can barely see to direct my pen. The spirit is will- ing, but the flesh is weak." On the ensuing day, however. Shrove Tuesday, he again resumes the pen, and writes to his excellent friends and correspondents. Misses Clark and Harris, in a strain as creditable to his own feelings as it must have been grateful to theirs : " 1 was in dreamland a few nights ago. I was, as usual in my visions, arranging things accord- 1841.] ST. TETER'S, AITBURN. 273 ing to the order of my course at Christ Church, about the time of the morning sacrifice. The sun was shining brightly. A carriage drove up, and Helen's father [the late Thomas Clark, Esq., senior warden of the church] stepped out, in his green and serene old age, and shook me cordially by the hand. He said he must go a little farther, but would shortly return. He was much animated, and desired to have the hymn, commencing ' This is the day the Lord hath made,' introduced into the service. I awoke, and, behold it was a dream ! I shall never, however, read that hymn without recalling it. The present season, indeed, always brings him most vividly to my mind. I shall never forget the first Ash Wednesday service in Boston. It was a warm and sunny day, and we opened the win- dows and door of the old vestry ; and the venerable warden went down into the little yard, and seemed delighted with the green and springing grass, as ' lessons sweet of spring returning.' I have observed, on succeeding years, that Lent has generally opened in the same way. ... I shall be disappointed if Ash Wednesday does not correspond with all past experience. At all events, it will bring up the past; and however thin St. Peter's may be to other eyes, I shall be in the midst of a crowd of invisible worshippers. May it be the beginning of a season, like the joy of grief, sad yet pleasant to the soul — a season of yet more salutary discipline than ever." Before he closes, he speaks of having received two letters from his dear friend Couthouy, the last as late as October, over- flowing with love and tenderness, " but little dreaming," he says, " of our late severance." In a letter to his father, March 3, he copies, with much gratifica- tion, the Rev. Dr. Hook's invitation to Bishop Doane to visit England, for the purpose of preaching at the consecration of the Queen's new Chapel, Ripon ; and after alluding to other matters of interest, he adds, " Every thing proceeds smoothly and delight- fully. We have services at the rate of some four or five per week, including Sunday, and my health never was better. There will be a respectable body of candidates for confirmation, including men and women. I endeavor to preach faithfully, and to commend my- self to every man's conscience in the sight of God." March 25, he writes that a clerical friend in New York had informed him that the parish of Yonkers, a few miles from New York, one of the best of country parishes, having a parsonage house and glebe, and offering a liberal salary, would be vacant in the ensuing May, and proposing, if he desired it, to interest himself in his behalf. On this proposal he remarks, " I like every thing in this situation but the name ; and if the suggestion had been made a twelvemonth since, I should have been tempted to accept, by reason of its vicinity to all our friends in New York, and so on eastward, ^t present, I do not think it would be quite fair to entertain it. 35 274 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^VELL. [1841. There could not be a kinder and more unanimous people than that to which it has been my privilege to minister ; nor can I positively say that the cUmate does not suit me, until I have tried the full circle of the months." April 7, he speaks of the confirmation held on the day previous in terms of great satisfaction. " The bishop's visit," he says, " was short, but we lived a great while in a little time." Of the bishop's manner of performing his sacred functions, his description is highly eulogistic, but entirely just, as well as discriminating. His sketch is the picture of a model prelate. On Easter Tuesday he writes, " We had daily service and sermon in Passion Week, two on Good Friday, and three on Easter. The bishop's visit was all that we could have desired, and the happiest effects have followed. All my candidates for confirma- tion (seventeen) came to the communion, and so did several others, and the largest attendance, it was remarked to me, that had ever been observed before." April 26, he says, " I have sent, at cousin's request, a few lines, written in the chamber where Bishop Hobart died, to the Northern Light " — a new literary work published ip Albany. These lines are copied here from a manuscript found among his private letters : — LINES ■WBITTEN IN THE CHAMBER WHERE BISHOP HOBART DEED, ON THE 12TH OP SEFTEMBER, 1830. Our house, whereon dark clouds have lowered, Is once more desolate, And hushed the solemn chamber where The good man met his fate. Pass lightly up the echoing stairs, And look in silence round. And take tliy shoes from off thy feet, For this is holy ground. Here stood, erewhile, his dying couch, Against this crimsoned wall. Where, quivering tlirough the locust leaves, The setting sunbeams fall. Here last he saw yon glorious orb, Like his, descending low, And through the casement pour, as now, That rich, autumnal glow. ] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 275 But dwell not on the painful scene, Nor, rapt in vision, muse. Till in the sadness of the past The present good we lose. No sun could make more golden set, Nor leave a track more bright, Than his, whose radiant memory still Fills all our courts with light. Look earthward forth, and see, fast by The oracle of God, And mark the well-worn churchyard path, The last his footsteps trod. Pass through the Gothic porch, and view The chancel's choicest trust, Where " all but speaks," in lifelike grace, His monumental bust. The pilgrim at lona's shrine Forgets his journey's toil, As faith rekindles in his breast On that inspiring soil ; And those who trace in Heber's steps Camatic wood and wave, A portion of his spirit seek By their apostle's grave. And here our prophet's sons shall oft Their father's ear recall. And here, on each successor's head, His reverend mantle fall. " Here may they hope to fill the breach, Like him the plague to stay. While in his thrilling tones they preach. And with his fervor pray." Thus, Auburn, shall thy hallowed haunts Be sought from age to age. And hither sons of holy Church Make pious pilgrimage. And though some bitter memories Must dash the past with pain. Sweet village, thou shalt ever be " The loveliest of the plain ! " Peteb's Parsonage, Auburn, September 12, 1840. 276 AfEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [184L In a letter of May 5, in which he announces, amonoj other things, his intention of making the earhest arrangements in his power for a visit with his wife to his eastern friends, he throws in the following : "I rode twenty miles yesterday, to marry one of my parishioners, and returned with the wedding party, about nine last evening. It was the hardest day's work that I have accomplished in many years. We all thought the roads the roughest possible, except the happy bridegroom, who seemed to have little to do with what was of the earth. We passed through scenery which would have made a glori- ous landscape in the prime of summer ; but it is the greater aggra- vation to look at such scenes prematurely as they are. Our route carried us by two of the ' seven small lakes ' that diversify this re- gion, and which are, in various ways, very picturesque. I have now been in sight of all of them, except Canandaigua and Crooked Lake, which I hope also some day to look upon." The fondly anticipated journey was commenced on the 17th of May ; and passing through, and calling on their friends in Utica, Albany, and New York, they arrived at New Haven on the 20th. Here they remained, busily and pleasantly employed in visiting, until the 26th, when they again pursued their journey, and taking Hart- ford and Springfield on their way, arrived at Boston on the 27th. He next writes to his father, May 29, from an inn in Cambridge, while waiting for the omnibus to take him to Boston. This letter is chiefly taken up with a rapid sketch of their journey, after leav- ing New Haven, and with their reception at Boston, which appears to have been peculiarly gratifying. " To-morrow," he says, " I preach at the navy yard in the morning, for brother Searle, and in the afternoon at Christ Church. On Trinity Sunday I shall pass the whole day at Trinity Church." Among other things, he speaks thus feelingly of meeting his esteemed correspondent, Mr. Couthouy : " My old friend from the exploring expedition returned night before last, and nothing could have compensated for the disappointment, had we missed seeing each other." In his letter of .Tune 7, he mentions, as a chief point of gratifi- cation, his meeting Bishop Doane, and attending him on board the packet, the Caledonia, in wliich he had taken his passage for Eng- land, to fulfil his engagement with Dr. Hook ; and after relating many pleasant incidents, he continues : " I was at Trinity all day on Sunday, and at the Mission Church at evening, and have no prospect of any real repose till I reach Auburn again, if indeed I do then. We have both been excited and exhausted, as if on an episcopal visitation. I am tempted, on this account, to delay our return for another week, and the rather as we shall not probably be this way again for a long time." Next, dating from Auburn, Saturday evening, June 19, he says/. 1841.] ST. rETER'S, AT'EURN. 277 " I am at my round table once more, with scenes of verdure all about me, and the fragrance of our churchyard locusts filling our premises with the most grateful incense. We evacuated Boston on Wednesday morning, the anniversary of the battle of Bunker Hill, and had a parting salute of cannon and bell ringing." He then proceeds to give the details of the journey, by the way of Pittsfield, Hudson, Albany, Utica, &c. " We find," he says, " all well, with the exception of one case of bitter bereavement, which has thrown a worthy family into the greatest distress ; an only child, a fine boy of four years old, the last of several, having been snatched away by croup. The father is perfectly broken down, and I feel that I ought to have been here. With my present feelings, indeed, I shall be slow to leave my cure very soon again. Our people have been very indulgent, and find no fault ; but they have had service but one Sunday during my absence ; and such intervals of suspension, of course, cannot but do any church harm. Ill the mean time, while they have been starving, I have been feed- ing strange flocks, and seeing all sorts of people excepting those given especially to my charge, at a rate which I should have thought very severe, had I been in my own place. Surely, I am delighted to get back. Auburn never looked so like ' the loveliest village of the plain.' ... I can conceive nothing more de- lightful than a trip this way, for mother, or any of you, or a pleas- anter resting-place than the parsonage now affords, for the end of the journey. The sooner you take up your line of march, the better for all parties." This suggestion is further followed up in his next letter : " The parsonage is all in readiness to receive you, and all that you may bring in your train ; and it is looking delightfully all around us. At the same time, I cannot deny, that the summer atmosphere is, in general, peculiarly damp, and not exactly what I could wish. We sleep, as it were, by enchantment, at all hours of the day, and languor and lassitude beset us. I trust, however, you will not be discouraged, though ' a pleasing land or drowsihead it is, and dreams that wave before the half-shut eye.' You will find many friends here, besides those that yoii have seen ; and your coming is looked for with great expectation." A letter of the 6th of July contains an amusing sketch of the manner in which the anniversary of American independence had just been celebrated ; but only one or two short passages are cited, merely for the purpose of showing bow innocently a clergyman may subject himself to unmerited censure, and how utterly impossible it is for associated bigotry to change its character. " On the 4th," he says, " Auburn was any thing but a deserted village. All Cayuga county was here. We had two celebrations. The regular ' old line,' appeahng to the whole community, at which I officiated. • • • 278 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CKOSWELL. [1841. The tee-totallers collected all their strength for an opposition display, and of course greatly outnumbered us. Indeed, it required no little moral courage to appear in what was stigmatized as the ' drunkards' ' procession ; for so they honored our celebration ; and the Presby- terian minister, who was to have been associated with me, backed out, at the eleventh hour, having been frightened by some of his fanatical parishioners." He does not close this letter without once more urging forward the visit of his parents : " We are all delighted at the prospect of seeing mother and yourself here so soon, and trust that nothing will prevent you from etfecting our heai-ts' desire. The visit will not only do you good, and us of the parsonage, but is an event in which the parish manifest a very lively interest." All the satisfaction here anticipated was probably derived from the arrival of the visitors at the parsonage. They were received with every demonstration of dutiful affection by their son and daughter, who, with their friends and parishioners, were indefatigable in their exertions to render the visit pleasant. The following day being Sunday, the public services were rather unequally divided between the rector and his father — the latter being persuaded to occupy the pulpit both morning and afternoon, and to bear his part in the other duties. The next two days were spent in interchanging civilities with friends, and in visiting some of the prominent objects of curiosity and interest in the village and vicinity. The state prison with its seven hundred convicts, laboring in their several trades and occupations, though a dismal spectacle, was not to be passed by. But it was to the attractive scenery in the neighborhood that the visitors' attention was most pleasantly called. Owasco Lake, with its enchanting shores of hills and groves, and Skeneateles Lake, with its tasteful village, were among the places which they found time to visit. But in the midst of this brief enjoyment, the rector was summoned away on Tuesday night to Rochester, on a most unwelcome duty. He was appointed by the ecclesiastical authority on a court of inquiry, to investigate certain charges of a scandalous nature, which had been preferred against a presbyter of that place. He was detained the whole of the next day in examining witnesses, and the investigation resulted iii presenting the offender for trial. It may be sufficient to say of the case, that it cost him a good deal of anxiety and pain ; and although he indulged, at first, a charitable hope that the accused might prove his innocence, this, unhappily for the Church, and for the accused, was not the case. He has- tened back to Auburn on Thursday night ; but only in time to take leave of his parents and other friends, who had no alternative but to take their departure in the n)idnight train. In a famihar letter to his friend Couthouy, .Tuly 24, he urges him to escape from the heated walls and stifled thoroughfares of the city, and cool oft' in some such rural retreat as Auburn. He admits 1841.1 ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 279 that, even there, it is warm enouj^h. But he says, " I can lead you to cool and sunless groves hard by, which are a refreshment to think of, hke the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. You will find that I have some passion left yet for natural history, and will accompany you on such exploring expeditions as will be for your health and recreation. Several parties of our friends have been already here, this summer, and find it very tolerable. My father and mother were among the last. They spent a few delightful days with us." In turning again to his correspondence with liis father, it may be well to note one of those melancholy and striking transitions from light to shade, to which bitter experience had made him no stranger. It was at a moment when they were enjoying a most welcome visit from his wife's sister Elmira, that a gentleman arrived from Boston with the startling intelligence that Mrs. Tarbell, their mother, had been taken suddenly and dangerously sick, and that her case was such as to require the immediate return of her daughter. This was but a prelude to the painful result. Mrs. Tarbell died on the 7th of August ; and he announces the event in a style which the bereaved will well know how to appreciate. " My wife," he says, "has borne up very wonderfully under the shock. She feels, of course, as an affectionate cliild cannot but feel under such a bereave- ment. She has been called to pass through many trials, within a few short months; but what trial is there like the loss of a mother, and such a mother especially as she now mourns 1 Mrs. Tarbell was a most excellent and exemplary lady, in all the relations of life, and her virtues endeared her to all who knew her, and will be cher- ished, as their choicest legacy, by her family. . . . Elmira arrived home about twenty-four hours before her death, and was gratified with an opportunity of seeing her in the full possession of all her powers, and in the calm and Christian contemplation of her approaching dissolution." But this cloud of sorrow had scarcely crossed his path before he was permitted again to enjoy a gleam of light from another branch of his fimiily connections. He announces, in a letter of the IGtli of August, the welcome intelHgence of the birth of his father's first grandchild, a son of his brother Sherman Croswell, of Albany. On this occasion, he falls into a train of pleasant and appropriate reflections, citing the language of the Psalms and the classics, to show the blessedness of those whose " children are like the olive branches round about their table." " Sons in our prime, no shaft so bright ; Blest he who fills his quiver so ; They unabashed may claim their right. And in the gate defy their foe." 280 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.. After attending the convention of the western diocese of New York, at Utica, he thus alludes, in a letter of September 3, to a malady, from which he was seldom or never exempt for any con- siderable length of time. As an apology for delaying his letter, he says, " Two or tiiree of the days generally devoted to correspond- ence have been given up, I find, to the headache, which still haunts me, and follows as the night the day, or as effect grows out of cause, after any overdoing or excitement." And he afterwards adds, " I am sometimes disposed to ascribe my headaches to being overworked, and in study I trust I have something to show for myself" Such admissions are not often found in his letters, as they were sure to call forth from his friends the most earnest expostula- tions to desist from such labors as might be deemed excessive. But from his private journal it appears that these attacks were not only frequent, but in many cases extremely distressing. Speaking incidentally at this time of the great amount of his correspondence, he says, " This is the seventh long letter I have sent off" within a few days, and I sometimes think, if I had made a circular of them, I might have made one good letter, instead of spoiling half a dozen." It is to be presumed, however, that his correspondents formed a very different estimate of the value of their respective letters, and that neither of the seven would have been willing to merge an exclusive claim in the general property of a circular. Among these letters, one is found addressed to his friend CouTHOUY, who, it seems, had been waiting rather impatiently for a response to one of his own communications. He acknowledges the receipt of this letter in highly flattering terms, and begins by remarking, "From what I learn from Cambridge, I should infer that you had been ravenous for a reply. In such a case, I must deal with you as a skilful leech does with a morbid appetite, which is sometimes, you know, a shocking bad symptom — put you on severe diet and short allowance, administering very little at a time, and that not very often, keeping all high-seasoned and exciting dishes out of your reach, and feeding you with a sort of water-gruel messes. Ecce signum!" He proceeds in a similar vein; but the entire let- ter is so full of local, private, and personal allusions and anecdotes, that it cannot be spread on these pages. Having concluded to attend the opening of the session of the General Convention at New York, on the 6th proximo, he writes, September 23, " As I attend the convention simply as a member of that large and respectable branch known as the third house, my duty to my constituents will not require me to be present during the whole session. I only propose to leave here on Monday, stay just long enough to set you well a-going, and return to my place on the Saturday following." All this was accomplished, so far as the com- mencement was concerned. He was present on the assembling of 1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 381 the convention, and derived great enjoyment from the service. He met great numbers of his friends, and had an opportunity to spend much time with his father, who was among the delegates to the con- vention. He left New York on Friday, taking abundant time, as he supposed, to reach home on Saturday. But in consequence of an unfortunate detention of the boat on the river, he did not arrive in Auburn until Sunday, and at too late an hour for the morning services. In the afternoon, however, he opened his church, and though quite indisposed from a severe cold, resumed his duties. " I found all well here," he says, in a letter to his father, " and my wife had set the house in fine order. I realized more strongly than ever, when I reached it, that there is no place like home." Writing again, he says, " It would of course have given me great delight to have extended my visit to New Haven ; but, as it was, I crowded into the week rather more than it could hold, and more than was good for me bodily. The wear and tear of travel, by night and day, affect me more than some journeyers, and do not seem to diminish by any experience I have had of it." The following extract from a letter of November 16 is worth recording, as foreshadowing a policy which the Church has since found it expedient and necessary to adopt, in her efforts to extend the gospel in the far west : " I am sorry to hear such melancholy tid- ings of young Pkindle.* I have the impression that he had not stamiua enough to hold out long under the weight of the ministry any where. But our frontier service is truly full of peril to an east- ern constitution especially ; and in the climate of Missouri, like that of India, it would seem that labor is death. I see by the Churchman that many of Bishop Kemper's new recruits have with- drawn rather abruptly from positions so full of danger, and which in no respect, I presume, can be regarded as inviting fields of duty. Unless the sons of the soil can be educated on the spot for the work, I fear there will be but a small chance of a satisfactory supply for the demands which the gi"eat west so urgently presents for meeting her spiritual necessities." At about this time he speaks of having received an intimation that his services might be wanted in another part of the diocese, and says, " I am perfectly satisfied that the western diocese has nothing more inviting in its borders than this parish. I shall endeavor to seek no other country, except a heavenly ; though not without the secret longing to return one day to the familiar haunts of New Eng- land." Tliis is followed by another characteristic passage : " I have been invited to deliver a poem at Geneva, at the next commence- * The Rev. Charles Prindle, who was sinking tinder a fatal disease, con- tracted in his western mission. 36 282 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841. ment ; which I have thought proper on consideration to decline, for good and sufficient reasons, as 1 regard them. I appreciate notwith- standing, very highly, tlie honor conferred upon me by this flattering invitation, and have expressed myself accordingly." In a subsequent letter, after hearing of the death of Mr. Prindle, he writes, " Though I knew but little of Mr. Prindle, it was enough to make me deplore his loss to the Church ; and I can think what a pang it must cost the now desolate and aged heart whose chief hope he was. As one who was faithful over few things, he has doubtless entered into the joy of the Lord ; and those who know the trials of a long ministry, might almost envy his early removal. How true and touching is that thought of Southey ! — ' Happy he • Who to his rest is borne In sure and certain hope, Before the hand of age Has chilled his faculties, Or sorrow reached him in his heart of hearts.' We have many like daily instances of mortality among the clergy to teach us how frail we are — the earliest summoned, and the latest spared. The aged Bishop Moore's turn has come at last, unex- pectedly, I presume, to all but himself. At General Convention, he was the very picture of a green old age. He was like a shock of corn in his season, and was gathered to his fatliers in the ripeness of his graces, and with a heart younger than his years. May our sun make as serene a set, and our lot be with his and that of all those who depart hence in the Lord." In a letter to his friend Couthouy, of December 14, he speaks of some of his occupations after this manner : " Pleasant as my par- ish is, I am delighted to tell you that it is no sinecure, though that is among the reasons why I do not write oftener. Being the only minister of the apostolic succession among a crowd of pi'eachers of the Independent and Presbyterian invention, and what Father Haskell, in his visit to me last summer, called the Baptist disorder, and not being of particularly bad report among the people, my services are in considerable request for extra occasions. On Thursday last, our Thanksgiving day, I preaclied, in part, on undue festivity, and was obliged to reduce my precepts to practice, by leaving immediately after service, without food or drink, in a drenching rain, to attend a funeral and preach a sermon at a little settlement ten miles distant, on the canal, called Port Byron, like lucus a non lucmdo, perhaps because there is wo\\nng portly or poetical ohonX. it. But you know we hsive Jirst-i-ate names in this part of the world, if we have nothing 1841.1 ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 283 else. The highways, you have some reason to remember, are not royal roads ; the soil is quite too fertile for that ; but you can hardly begin to conceive the state of the by-ways, when that same dust which was so deep last summer has been soaked to the centre by this abundant moisture, and our freedom thus far from any thing like severe frost. It was quite a different aftair from riding out to Lee Vale to take a Thanksgiving dinner. I did reahze, however, that it is better to go to the house of mourning than that of feasting ; and I returned in season to share the hospitalities of the excellent pa- rishioner, where my wife was spending tlie day." He remarks, before he closes, "I have dechned being poet at Geneva College next year, on the ground of being preacher of the muses." He acknowledges, however, that he has been induced, by his cousin of the Albany Argus, to prepare another New Year's ode for that paper. The pleasure is here indulged of transcribing a long extract from a familiar letter of December 15, addressed to one of the Misses Clark, with whose family he cherished the most intimate and affectionate relations to the day of his death : " H s' letter, dear L , came yesterday, like a gleam of sunshine in the midst of those dark and gloomy days, which, though remarkably mild for the season, seem to be shut in from morning to night with a dull drapery of perpetual cloud, making their proverbial shortness still shorter. Though we rise early, and late take rest, little is accom- plished in the interval except the most pressing duties. The antici- pation of seeing H herself here in person is, you may be sure, a very pleasant one to entertain ; and the reality will help to abridge the winter more than I can well express. I leave that to my wife to tell ; and in the mean time, you must do what you can in the way of letters to prevent our isolation here. I rejoice to inform you that the ark of God's magnificent and awful cause intrusted to me continues to ride on prosperously, and I trust because of its truth and righteousness. The return of the solemn Advent season seems to have been productive of deep spiritual impression on the hearts of the people ; and my own has not, I hope, been insensible to the reaction. Much as I have yet to learn in the discharge of my momentous ministerial responsibihties, I cannot but be happily, though humbly, conscious that God has taught me, in these last years, how to apply his truth less as one who runs uncertainly, and to fight less as one that beateth the air. . . . The associations of the time carry me back to all the annual round of other days, and the loved and lost, the living and the dead, with whom we have made, and — precious hope! — are still, one communion." His last letter for the year to his father is hasty, sketchy, and desultory, with many private and confidential allusions ; from which, however, one or two passages are detached. He mentions the 284 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842- departure of a delegation to attend the celebration of the completion and opening of the Great Western Railroad from Boston, via Albany, to Auburn, and adds, "I was invited to accompany the party, and would gladly have done so at any other season. At present, I can hardly be spared for a day. Meanwhile I share in the general enthusiasm ; and if we have no particular cause to exclaim, with William Howitt, ' Thank God for mountains ! ' we have reason to thank him for railroads. We oent several sprigs of our Christmas evergreens to our Christ Church friends, to show them that we were only twenty-four hours apart, in case of emergency, and how easy it was for Burnam Wood to come to Dunsinane." He had passed the Christmas festivities pleasantly and satisfactorily, and had dis- charged a great amount of duty ; but amid it all he found time to prepare and send off to the Argus what he calls " a versification of proverbial philosophy, under the guise of Poor Richard, Jr., earnestly hoping, however, that it might be superseded by rhymes of a more sportive strain." In this hope, it will be seen, he was dis- appointed. The verses appeared in the Argus on the first of Jan- uary ; and from thence are transferred to the opening record of the year. 1842, FROM THE DESK OF POOR RICHARD, JR. A HAPPY New Year, patrons, friends ! Incline a gracious ear To what Poor Richard, junior, sends To prove his wish sincere ; And do not grudge, he says, to take Out of his earthen jar True treasures, for the giver's sake, If they true treasures are. As pure, through IJozra's shallowest stream, Oft glitter grains of gold, And fair the blessed flowerets gleam From sods all dull and cold ; So those who prized old Richard's prose, Will not to-day disdain Whatever wholesome precept glows Beneath tlie carrier's strain. 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBUKN. Ye who would cliange these evil days, And have them truly blest, Must make, in ancient Richard's plurase Of every thing the best : And each, though knowing but in part The mystery of sui, Must cure, in his own evil heart, His evil's origin. The secret is, Poor Richard says, But understood by few, That they have happiest New Year's days Who have the most to do : The poor rejoiceth in his tasks, With present good content. And sweet his daily bread who asks But to be innocent. He little knows the bitter cost At which the rich increase ; The hours of sweet composure lost, And compensating peace ; He little knows their waking toils, Their visions of distress, Who dream, amid their hoarded spoils, Of fortune's fickleness. Cups strive to hold. Poor Richard writes, The bucket's draught in vain ; Nor can man's straitened appetites More than their fill contain. Enjoyment has its bouuds, though deep Be wealth's unfailing spring, And all our chiefest comforts keep In moderation's ring. Labor to pleasure giveth zest Which gold can never win ; Cheap recreations are the best. And none so dear as sin. True joy is where yon visitant Some broken spirit cheers, And where the pale, lank cheek of want Is wet with grateful tears. A bold, bad man, or fool, is he Who dare the cup refuse MEMOLR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. Which mercy mixeth lovingly, And would his neighbor's choose. We know the worst of what we are, But not another's curse ; And certain bad is better far Than dread of something worse. Poor Richard knows full well distress Is real, and no dream ; And yet life's bitterest ills have less Of bitter than they seem. Meet like a man thy coward pains, And some, be sure, will flee ; Nor doubt the worst of what remains Will blessings prove to thee. And thou, whose days abundance bring, Give needy men their due ; Who saves the poor from suffering. May save from sinning too. And be thou slow to wield the rod When others do thee wrong, And bear a while with them, when God Hath borne with thee so long. On you alone, of lily kind, Effeminate and pale, Who idle in the summer wind, Poor Richard fain would rail. Because ye have not toiled and spun As sister lilies might. Nor are ye wise as Solomon, Though gaudier to the sight. Your only place, ye well-arrayed, — Poor Richard thinks, — for whom The world is under tribute laid For finery and perfume, Soon as your saponary hair Is long enough to braid. Should be with some man-milliner, To learn a genteel trade. These are a few of Richard's rules ; Nor does he much expect To found, amid the rival schools, A very numerous sect ; 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 287 Nor will he longer moralize, Lest he should prove severe ; Enough is said to help the wise To make a happy year ! January 1, 1842. While thus throwing off, for the amusement and instruction of the readers of the Argus, these quaint versifications of Poor Rich- ard's proverbial philosophy, he was apparently indulging in a sweeter and sublimer strain, for the solace of himself or some distant friend. The following stanzas are found in their first rough draught among some loose manuscripts, without any date, and have probably never appeared in print : — My muse is no migrating bird, Nor one that sleeps the cold away ; But in her parlor cage is heard Still piping her perennial lay. While o'er the sea her tribes retire, She, like some patient editor. Keeps, from the prison by the fire, The household in a cheerful stir. What dearer lesson to impart To murmuring minds than her rich song ? — " Abate no jot of hope or heart. Though days grow short, and cold grows strong. Though pent up in a straitened room, Break out, like me, in merriest strain, And rise above the circling gloom Till better days come round again." How much we need such song of cheer. He will not ask, who looks, I ween, Where through the portals of the year The wintry world without is seen ; He will not ask who sees the sky Lowering with grim and murky face, Or hears the boding frost-wind sigh Around his ice-bound dwelling-place. He will not ask who sees the crowd, In twilight dim, so hurrying past, All muffled to the eyes, and bowed Before the keen and biting blast ; MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CIIOSWELL. [1842. He will not ask who promptly goes, On such a night, at duty's call. Mid hail, and sleet, and drifting snows. And storm-drops freezing as they fall. He will not ask who has to do, These dismal times, with suffering men, And follows famine's ghastly crew To misery's cold and squalid den. Where fires are out, or burning low, And through broad chinks and broken panes The scythe-like air sweeps to and fro. Curdling the life-blood in the veins. He will not ask who climbs the stair, Where, reft of fuel, fire, and food, A mother sits, like wan despair. Benumbed amid her huddling brood ; Where hopeless woe and hunger steel To every form of ill the mind. Half crazed by sense of what they feel, And fear of what is worse behind. O, wouldst thou keep thy heart in tune 'Mid fireside joys, thy spirit lift, Like song of bird in gay saloon, Or blossoms in the snowy drift ; With deeds of love thy joys expand, And deal the blessings of thy lot On every side, with generous hand, To aching throngs that have them not. Go, wann the cold ; go, clothe the bare ; Go, feed the starved ones at thy door; And let the empty-handed share From out thy basket and thy store ; Go, wipe from misery's eye the tear, Take by the hand affliction's son. And happy shall be all the year That is thus happily begun. Go, give the sick and weary rest ; Gladden the cells where prisoners lie ; Pour balm and oil in wounded breast, And soothe the soul about to die. ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. Go, where thy name a blessing draws From rescued lips, on such employ ; Partake the bliss of those who cause The widow's heart to sing for joy. Do thus, and thou shalt go to rest With music round thy midnight bed And, blessing, shall be trebly blessed For each such soul thus comforted. Thy sun sliall make a golden set This New Year's day, and be by far The happiest day that ever yet Was lettered in thy calendar ! The parsonage, at this time, appears to have been the very centre of domestic comfort and social enjoyment. But still, to complete their happiness, the inmates longed for the companionship of some of their Boston friends ; and the following extract, from a familiar letter of March 17, will show how pleasantly that want was supplied ; " Since I wrote last, we have been most agreeably surprised by tlit unexpected arrival of Captain Couthouy, having under guardiansliip our dear friend Helen C ■—, whom we have been importuning al! winter to visit us, but had received no encouragement to expect our proposals would be accepted. The captain has an appointment to superintend the arrangement of the natural history specimens received at the National Institute at Wasiiington, which will give him employ- ment, for which he is admirably fitted, for the coming year. He spent two or three days here, which were too pleasant for any thing but holidays, and almost too great an indulgence for the season. The prospect of having Miss C domesticated with us, for some months at least, has given quite a new aspect to our affairs, and my wife feels as if it were almost like going to Boston." This was written towards the close of Lent — a season during which he had been endeavoring to awaken a new interest in the parish, by an increase of his labors, and by adding to the number of his public services. During these laborious duties he was often admonished, by the recurrence of his old malady, the headache, and by the demands for medical treatment, that his health was probably suffer- ing by these excessive exertions. But every selfish consideration was merged in the desire to do good to others ; and he pursued, to the end of the season, a course which he deemed most conformable to his duty to his God and his people. But to show that rest, when it could be consistently indulged, was most welcome to him, it is only necessary to cite a single passage from his letter dated Monday in Easter week : " The labors of the Lent season are now fairly over, 37 290 MEMOIR OF WTLLIAil CROSWELL. [1842. and we can once more breathe freely." Speaking of parish matters, he says, "At our parish meeting, to-day, the best spirit seemed to prevail. At my suggestion, we had a statement of the moneys raised and disbursed by the parish since last Easter printed and distributed in the pews yesterday, for the information of the parish, which has helped to produce a very happy effect." To this allusion to the temporalities of the Church, he adds, " What ought now chiefly to occupy my anxieties is, that the spiritual interests of the parish should not be allowed to suffer in my hands. The bishop writes me that he purposes to confirm on Whit-Sunday. I hope we shall have some candidates." His several letters to his father and other correspondents, in the month of April, are chiefly occupied with private matters ; but the critical remarks on two popular authors, in the following passage, are well worth transcribing : " We have just received from Mrs. Carpenter a copy of Stephens's Central America, the reading of which I have hitherto postponed, since I knew she had it in store for me. I anticipate a large share of the universal interest it affai-ds. I have seen enough only to make me regret that some thorough paleographist could not be employed in deciphering the hieroglyph- ical inscriptions on the ruins of those ancient cities. At present we are perusing Robinson with great satisfaction, from the entire con- fidence that is to be placed on the soundness of his judgment, as well as the profoundness of his learning and his scrupulous accu- racy. He seems to have expected to find no hair-breadth escapes and perilous adventures wherewith to take romantic readers cap- tive, and accordingly found none. The dangers and encounters, which fill so many pages in Stephens and other popular travels, either do not exist at all, or are greatly magnified by a lively imagi- nation. At any rate, they did not make a sufficient impression on Robinson's mind to find place on his record. His work is quite as instructive and valuable to the judicious, notwithstanding." From his 3Iay correspondence larger selections may be made ; not, however, without a due regard to the rules of propriety and delicacy. On the 4th he writes, " Virgil, dear father, was great among the ancients for his pastorals ; but truly his pastorals were nothing to yours, though there is not quite so much poetry in these last. There is something better, however. Like Moses, you have the burden of a great people upon you ; but your arms are strengthened, like his, in the day of necessity ; and I trust, like his, your bow will long abide in strength. As I have often remarked to you, doubtless the labor often seems hard to you, (most men it would overpower,) but it would seem much harder for you not to labor while it is called to-day. For my own part, I often wish that I had more to do here. The cares of the parish do not often sit heavy enough to be really felt. I have preached and exhorted, in season. 1842.1 ST. PETER'S, AUBTJUX. 291 and out of season, as some would think; but there is nothing to encourage me that there will be a large number to present for con- firmation. The angel of our church will need to have grace, like that of St. Peter, on the first Whit-Sunday, to prick this multitude at the heart, and raise the main question, What must we do ? We have full congregations of respectful and attentive hearers; but they are too apt to be ♦ hearers only.' Men are not forward, as you would suppose they could not but be, to confess the faith of Christ crucified. However, we are not without some examples. We shall baptize to-morrow, probably, several adults, it being Ascension day, and more, I think, on the Sunday following." The bishop's visit is noted in his next letter, May 17, on which he held an ordination and confirmed fourteen persons. " It was," he says, " a memorably impi'essive day, never to be forgotten. The number of candidates, though not large, will be, I trust, the first fruits of a greater harvest by and by." Miss Helen C 's return to Boston afforded him an oppor- tunity to address several letters to his friends, all dated on the 25th of May. To his friend Couthouy he writes, " Helen has, at sun- dry times and in divers manners, visited the haunts of Fort Hill and the Little Falls. Every thing is now verdant and vernal as spring can make. The trees are in full leaf, vocal at early prime, with most musical, most melancholy notes. The robin that in the church- yard builds her nest has been pouring forth a continuous swell of plaintive melody, in lamentation as it were of Helen's departure. I trow she will think of it sometimes, when she comes across that passage of the old eighty-fourth : ' The birds, more happy far than I, around thy temple throng.' The leaves of the locust are large enough to checker the sunlight that plays on my table, and the dan- delions, of the most dazzling brightness and in unprecedented mul- titude, shine in the grass of the churchyard, like stars of the first magnitude in a dark night, when all the host of heaven are out. I am unequal to describe the scene, especially in my present haste. Methinks the author of Chapters on Churchyards could make a very pretty picture, of inferior materials than these, and in her pecu- liar and inimitable way. Since the spring opened, we should have been glad to have pursued our botanical excursions a little more thoroughly ; but higher duties to the human species made it impos- sible to attend to the vegetable. As it is, however, I have collected some of the more common plants of the seasou ; and am satisfied, from the few experiments I have made, that much greater perfection is to be obtained in the art of pressing than is exiiibited in most herbariums." To Miss Harris, after saying how difficult it is to reconcile them- selves to the idea of parting with Helen, he writes, " We received a most expressive package yesterday by Harnden's express, the 292 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. contents of which were enough to make any lady hghtheaded. I fear its effect upon a poor parson's wife will he, to make her too proud, hoth of the gift and of having such friends as the givers. Those who see them cannot blame us for having left so much of oTir affections hehind us, or that we are wrapping up ourselves, and all tliat belong to us, in such Jinc spun Boston notions. Helen will take with her a copy of Mrs. Southey's Chapters on Churchyards, which I commend to your reading. She is, judging from internal evidence, the author of those 'Scenes in our Parish' which was always an especial favorite of mine, and I think calculated to take captive any heart that has been smitten with a passion for the sacred picturesque, or whose sympathies and tastes are alive to whatever is lovely and of good report. I send you also a copy of Coxe's Athanasion. The author is a youth of extraordinary talent, and his poetry conceived in a true catholic spirit. I do not know that it will make any converts to the true Church, but it will appeal strongly to the affinities of those who have attained by grace to a knowledge of the same more excellent way. Winslow's Remains give evidence of a spirit of the same temper ; and you will be glad to know that his memoir, and a selection of his writings, are to be published in the series of Oxford reprints." In a short letter to Miss Lucy A. Clark and sisters, he writes, " I need not say, dear friends, how much we regret to part with Helen just now, chiefly on our own account, but somewhat also on hers. We flatter ourselves that her health and spirits have of late been fast reviving under the irresistible influences of rural quiet, congenial society, and the vernal visitation of all that combine to make the country attractive and delightful. We feel, however, that we ought not to repine at the decision, or wonder at your unwillingness to spare her longer. Rather let us be grateful that you have allowed us to detain her beyond her original intention ; and rejoice to indulge the hope, that it will not be long before we shall meet again." On the 30th of May, instead of writing to his father, he addressed a letter to his cousin Elizabeth Sherman. This letter is full of reminiscences of his boyish days, which show the peculiar state of his feelings at the time ; but only a portion of them can be trans- ferred to these pages. " I ought to apprise you, dear cousin, that I have just been diluting my ink with a little shai-j) vinegar, and cannot promise any thing very agreeable from a pen so dipped in acid. I flatter myself, however, that you would prefer to have it even so than not at all. . . . Do you know that a longer period has elapsed since we have met together than ever before since I left home ? We cannot go to you, but you can come to us ; and the way is as easy as a walk down Chapel Street, and hardly costs more, indeed, than a morning's shopping." He here alludes, as in his 1842.] ST. PETERS, AUBURN. 293 foregoing letter to his friend Couthout, to the beautiful appearance of the churchyard, and proceeds : " We are all ready, here, you may be sure, as ever, to make much of you. The people I know vou would greatly like, and the feelings would be reciprocal. And what more, as the apostle writes, need I say to move you? Lo ! the win- ter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the earth ; the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell." Speaking, with some emotion, of his domestic cares and solicitude, he says, " There is a boding sound in my ear, even as I write. A pair of robins have made our mornings lively all this spring with their cheerfid notes. A few days since the female was missing, (our cat probably best knows how,) and it has been perfectly distressing to hear the perpetual lament of the survivor. These lines tell the rest. They have never before been committed to paper, and should not be seen by other eyes at present : — All day, from yonder churchyard tree, The redbreast, mourning for his mate, Has poured that thrilling elegy, Heart broken and disconsolate. Her favorite bough he never leaves ; He never ceases to complain ; But grieves, as if, like man, he grieves The more because he grieves in vain. Poor bird ! a troubled thought they wake, - Those notes of unaffected sorrow, — The thought how this sad heart may ache With that same bitter pang to-morrow. I dare not think what clouds of gloom Upon our sunny hopes may fall, And in one hour of bliss may doom Dear mate, and nest, and nestlings all ! '' He concludes this interesting letter with a message to his father: "Tell him to set about his autohiography while it is yet in his power. We see every day how facts are misapprehended, even by those who would fain tell the truth of their contemporaries. Indeed, these mis- takes convince me that there is little confidence to be placed in the history of past times, unless the actors have also been the narrators, and not always then. He need not publish, but leave it among his posthumous papers." 294 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. Happily, the boding strains in the preceding letter were soon changed to those of joy and gratulation. On the 4th of June he writes, "I hasten to apprise you, dear parents and friends, that a little daughter was born unto us this morning, and that both the mother and the child are doing remarkably well." He expresses great thankfulness to God for this distinguished mercy ; and after hailing, as an auspicious omen on the occasion, the appearance of a rainbow in the west, he proceeds : " I need not say that this is a very bright day for us, and that there is great joy in the household, not to say parish, which will be cordially recij^rocated, I am sure, by the many dear hearts to whom these tidings will come. Our hearts' desire is fulfilled in the gift of a daughter rather than a son ; and in this feeling I am sure, at least, of mother's sympathies. May they both be spared long enough to fill the void long since left in her heart by those who are not lost, but gone before." This welcome event was made the subject of many pleasant and interesting communications to his friends, in some of which he minutely describes, in a playfid spirit, not only the features and the lineaments of the new-born child, but also the disposition and traits of character which were thought to develop themselves, as belonging to her by hereditary right. His next object was to see to the early baptism of the child. " I shall feel," he says, " that consistency with the rubrics and my ordination vow, so to frame and fashion my own life and that of my family as to make them wholesome examples to the flock of Christ, will constrain me not to defer the baptism." The feast of St. John the Baptist was first appointed for the pur- pose ; but as that day proved unpropitious, on account of the weather, " we wait," he remarks, "in submission, for the first fair holy day or Sunday ; hoping, however, that it may be as soon as that of our patron saint, on the 29th, not without fervent aspirations " That she, marked with salvation's sign, May enter on the life divine In Christ's appomted way, At vespers, in St. Peter's shrine, Upon St. Peter's day. "Excuse me for dilating on this matter as if it were of as much moment as the ceremonies of the baptism of his highness the prince ; for is it not in fact of much more moment to me 1 and am I not speaking ' to kind, attentive ears ' ? We feel that we can ask noth- ing more for the child than that she may grow in grace as fast as she grows in favor with fond parental partiality, — Making such visions to the sight As fill a father's eyes with light, 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 295 And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Upon his heart, that he at last Must needs express his love's excess With words of unmeant bitterness." Being again disappointed, however, on this day and the succeeding Sunday, the anticipated rite was deferred until the second »Sunday in July, when it was duly performed by the Rev. Amos G. Baldwin, and she received a name which had ever been a favorite in the maternal side of the family. " She will be called Mary," he says, " after the ' blessed among women,' as well as her own grandmother and aunt, of precious memory." Among the pleasurable incidents of this month was the visit of the young mother's sister. '< Delia's arrival," he says, " aftords us as much genuine delight as it seems to afford her. . . . We come nearest to being perfectly happy when we have our Boston friends to commune with of the past and future, and to go again to the house of God in company." In looking over his correspondence for .Tuly, passages like the following are found in letters to his friends the Rev. Dr. Strong and J. P. CouTHOUY, Esq. For the sentiments thus expressed, no apology can be necessary. He wrote as he felt, and few persons can be found at this day to call in question the correctness of his representations. " All things have gone well with me, thus far, in domestic and parochial affairs. Still, I cannot say that our hearts are here as much, perhaps, as they ought to be ; and we Uve more at the east than the west. Indeed, under any circumstances; there is hardly room for the same attachments. Like most of the western villages, Auburn is made up of heterogeneous residents, who have been brought here by accident, and whom any accident may again scatter. The majority of the population have probably been here less than five years, and have not yet found their stopping-place. Of course, there are not the same cominon interests as in those older settlements, whose inhabitants have sprung from a common stock, and feel as much identified with their birthplace as with their families. But I have said enough to show you which way the current sets ; and out of the heart's abundance the mouth speaketh." In a similar spirit he writes to his mother, and then adds, " It is observed by Southey, that, live as long as you may, the first twenty years are the longest half of a man's life. And I know, by expe- rience, that there are no friends like those of that delightful period. It teaches us to cherish our homebred delights, and seems to inti- mate a renewal of our most endearing relations, when founded on virtuous affections, beyond the grave. May we learn the lesson. With these impressions, let me most lovingly salute all the surviving friends of my youth who are yet about you." 296 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. The following extract from a letter to the late Mrs. Dr. Sumner, of Hartford, is also deeply imbued with the same spirit : " Doubt not, dear friend, my heart leaps up at the summons to join the circle of old, familiar faces at commencement ; and I feel like a captive Israelite at the thought of celebrating the feast of remembrance with his loved ones, in his own far-off" land. More than I can tell, do I long to see dear Mrs. Brinley's face once more in the flesh, and to take lessons in patient waiting for Christ. But it does not yet please the Lord to turn our captivity as the rivers of the south. When he does, be sure we will sing the one hundred twenty-sixth Psalm in brother Burgess's beautiful version, which, according to my ideas, is peculiarly happy. . . . We indulge the hope of being per- mitted to follow our hearts eastward in all the autumn, and, before the horizon shuts down on any narrower circle of endeared friends, ' To share again the cup of grace Before they part to Christ's embrace, We to the lonesome world again.' " Extracts from the correspondence of the month of August will be somewhat limited. In his family letters he does not fail to keep his parents duly apprised of every thing relating to the well being of the young child and her mother, which, as he could not doubt, w ould be most interesting to them. He also speaks of his intended visit : " We certainly do purpose a visit to the east next month. My wife will not probably regain her strength till she and the sea are brought together." And to a brief sketch of the proceedings of the diocesan convention at Syracuse, from which he had just returned, (on the 19th,) he adds this item of personal news : "I have gained a great loss in being elected a member of the standing committee, a yoke to which I did not care to be again subjected, after being once released from it in Boston. Whatever the honor might be, it came, at any rate, unsought ; and my vicinity to Geneva seemed to make it desirable, at least, to the other members." In a pleasant letter of August 26 to his friend Couthouy, con- gratulating him on the birth of a son, he says, "I care much less that he should be a '■pier of the realm ' than a pillar of Christ Church in those golden days of her prosperity which yet await every true branch of the Holy Catholic Church throughout the world. He shall not want my prayers that he may be a burning and shining light in the ancient candlestick, and that many may rejoice in his light." The last letter of the month, addressed to his "dear young friend " Miss H , is transferred almost entire to these pages, omitting only such passages as relate to local matters or to subjects already noted in other letters. " Our friends come hke shadows — 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 097 so depart. It seems like a dream that I have heen to the conven- tion at Syracuse." Among other dreams, he says, " I am sure I saw the Ukeness of a form, which, once seen, can never be forgotten — that of the Rev. Mr. , who desired me to help him find a par- ish. ... I told the bishop he would answer for some parisli of moderate expectations. ' My dear friend,' says the right rev- erend, « will you tell me where there is such a parish ? They call upon me from all quarters to send them jirst-rate men, and they will pay hiin perhaps three hundred dollars ! ' Mr. thinks he may, without vanity, estimate himself at a higher value than this, and will not probably get any place in this diocese. • . . Since my return from convention, there has been a constant stream of transient company at the minister's tavern ; and the entertainment has given such good satisfaction, that we have the promise of almost as much patronage as the American Hotel. . . . This week we have some of our household friends from New Haven and Hudson to make us glad ; and last, but not least, young John Henry Hobart, on his way to Wisconsin, has been spending the night and the day amid the scenes of his father's last hours, and where his saintly spirit seems ever, in my mind's eye, to brood. He is such a son as such a father might regard with heavenly complacency, as he bends from the seats of the blessed in paradise. . . . Next week, if we are permitted to carry the thoughts of our hearts into effect, we shall probably be with you in Boston. We must be three days on the road, and I confess the journey seems formidable. I confess, also, that it seems the more so as I look beyond the meeting to the parting, and the loneliness of the return. . . . We have sad news from Hartford of Mrs. Brinley's health. She is very desirous to see me once more before she dies, and I am no less anxious to be there. I hope we shall not be too late. She is one of those who have come out of great tribulation, and is ripe for heaven." To this is added his own introduction to the beautiful lines which he enclosed in the same letter : " I purpose to make a collection of original and selected poetry for the children of Christ Church Sun- day school, in which I shall weave some topics of local interest into simple ballad rhymes ; and, without being pretending, I hope it may be useful to them and others. I send you one of the many contemplations, in which I often indulge, on some aspect of tlie same sacred theme, and which I intend to cast into some poet- ical mould, if not for others' solace, at least for my own. With the understanding that it is to be kept out of the prints, I have no objection to its being copied by any of our friends who would think it worth the while." 38 ^S MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. " I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Sa and thou boldest fast thy name, and hast not denied my faith.' Not for thy pomp and pride of place, Not for thy relics rare Of kings, and ministers of grace Whose names thy vessels bear ; Not for thy boast of high degree, Nor charms of gorgeous style, Hast thou been ever dear to me, 0 thou time-honored pile ! But for thy constant truth, which still Preserves, from age to age, Unmoved, through good report and ill, The Father's heritage ; Which firmly as the hills remains, As years have o'er thee swept. And singly, 'mid apostate fanes, The ancient faith has kept. For sixscore years thy lofty vault With those ascriptions ring. Which lift the soul, while they exalt The Christ, of Glory King. And well might walls, so taught, cry out, If human lips were dumb. And aisles spontaneous swell the shout Until the Bridegroom come.* For this, how oft my spirit longs To tread thy courts ! How stirs My inmost heart to join thy throngs Of earnest worshippers ! For this, how oft, on bended knee, 1 ask, dear Church, to see No drought on other's husbandry. But much of dew on thee ! * As Ckrist Church is one of the few houses of worship in Boston which has sui-vived the vicissitudes of a centmy, so it should be a matter of grateful commemoration that it is the only one of that few that has held fa.st the pro- fession of its faith without wavering. 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. Though many have afflicted thee, And all tliy ways despise, And turn, with gayer company. To where new shrines arise ; Here let thy children keep their feet, And do not yet despair That they who scorn thee yet may meet Before thy shrine in prayer. Though cheerless to the eye of sense, A land that none pass through, Eternal is thine excellence Which shall be brought to view. And on thy gates the stranger's son Shall, in God's time, record, " The Zion of the Holy One, TheCity of theLord!"* The journey to the east, which he was so fondly anticipating, was commenced, after some unforeseen causes of delay, on the 7th of September. It was performed by easy stages, for the accommoda- tion of the young mother and child, and it was not until the 10th that they arrived in Boston. Having taken the route by th^ way of Pittsfield, he found time, while detained at the Berkshire House, to write a short letter to his cousin Elizabeth, giving such a sketch of the journey, and the good condition of at least one important personage among the travellers, as he knew would he very welcome at home. " We are all in excellent health. The baby proves, as we hoped, an excellent traveller, and sleeps most of the way. We were prevented, yesterday, from getting on any farther than this by the storm. It was well that we did not. The house is very comfortable, and we have the prospect of a glorious day to com- plete the rest of our journey." He next writes to his mother from Cambridge, September 12 : " It was a bright and glorious morning when we left Pittsfield on Saturday, and the whole route, from the western border of the state to Springfield, exceeds in wild and pic- turesque beauty and mountain scenery any tiling which I have yet met with on our travels. What is of more moment, our young charge was perfectly quiet and well behaved, sleeping away the roughness of the hours. We arrived at the old scene of our labors at half past seven, and were soon surrounded by welcoming guests. * "Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many genera- tions." — Is. Ix. 15. 300 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSTN^ELL. [1842. I had sundry invitations from the highest quarters to fill at least half a dozen pulpits, but had the fortitude to refuse them all, being determined to have the enjoyment of a hearer after the fatigues of the journey. I accordingly visited Trinity, Grace, and St. John's Church, Charlestown, and received most cordial salutations from clergy and laity. I had almost forgotten to say that I baptized, in addition, the child of our friend Codthouy, by the name of Wil- liam Croswell. ... It will not be many days, I trust, be- fore we shall have the happiness of presenting ourselves before you, to receive your motherly benediction for ourselves and ours. It will be necessary that my wife should rest a while, to recover her health and strength, which, I am happy to say, has been much improved by the change of air and scene. . . . To-day we rode out to this favorite resort of other days, to pass a few hours with our kind and excellent friend Mrs. Carpenter ; and I avail myself of the short interval before dinner to scribble a few lines. I expect to spend several days here with wife and Mary, before we take up our line of march for Connecticut." Writing to his father on the 21st, ho speaks in the most grateful terms of the manner in which they had been received, both public- ly and privately, in Boston. He had been induced, on the previous Sunday, to preach all day in his old church, and was welcomed by overflowing congregations. While on this visit, he was solicited by his friends to sit for his picture ; but as his time was short, there was only one way in which he could gratify them. He says, " I spent an hour or two yesterday in having my head taken oft' by the daguerre operation. The light, however, was not very good, and the experiment not altogether successful. I am to try again on Monday, if the weather favors ; and if it be possible to make a favorable impression in this way, I intend to give you the benefit of it. If they do not give the best impression, as Dr. Boyle says, they do at least transfer the features with the vnosi. frightful fidelity." After several attempts, the artist finally succeeded in an admira- ble and lifelike representation of his features, mild, quiet and placid as they tlien were, undisturbed by the convulsive muscular motion which, in after years, so grievously aftected him. Several copies of this picture were subsequently taken, and have ever been held in high estimation by his friends. From a letter to his father, of the 28th, the following account is transcribed of an event on which but a single remark will be offered : of the sincerity of the ejaculation cited at the close, no doubt can be entertained; and it serves to show how deeply his heart was imbued with the charity that hopeth all things. " Yesterday was a day of great serenity in the elements of this visible world, and not less so in the councils of that portion of Christ's visible Church convened in Trinity Church, Boston. A larger representation of the clergy and 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 301 laity of the diocese of Massachusetts was assembled than on any former occasion. After tlie usual solemnities at the opening of the convention, and the administration of the holy communion, the ven- erable bishop introduced the momentous subject whicli had brought them together in a most affectionate and touching address. The Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, the senior presbyter of the diocese, thereupon followed in a strain of impressive remark, and moved a resolution that the convention do now proceed to the election of an assistant bishop, who shall also succeed the present diocesan, in case he survive him. This passed unanimously and without debate. After solemn and secret prayer for the guidance of the Holy Spirit in this important business, ' for the which prayers silence was kept for a spr ce,' the clergy withdrew to ' cast forth their lots.' The whole Lumber was thirty-nine, all of which were for the Rev. Man- ton Eastburn, D. D. The laity then withdrew, and concurred in said nomination Avithout a dissenting voice. Whereupon the Rev. Dr. Eastburn was announced as elected by the unanimous voice of ttie convention. The testimonials were prepared and signed forthwith, and after another pause for silent gratitude to that Blessed Spirit who ' maketh men to be of one mind in a house,' the conven- tion united in the rehearsal of that ancient hymn of praise, Te Deum laudamus. They then adjourned after a short session of two hours, presenting a scene from first to last of the most delightful and un- broken harmony, and nothing doubting that the best thing possible had been done for the Cliurch, and in the best possible spirit. So mote it be! " Having obtained a further extension of his leave of absence, he remained in Boston until the 6th of October, including another Sun- day, and affording him an opportunii,y to gratify his friends, by officiating again in the churcii of his early affections. On this occa- sion he preached twice, administered the holy communion, attended the Sunday school, and baptized six children, one among the num- ber by the name of " William Croswell." This delay, agreeable as it was to him and his friends, was nevertheless the cause of a grievous disappointment, inasmuch as intelligence of the death of Mrs. Brinley reached him in the very midst of his preparations for leaving Boston, and at the moment when he was indulging the hope, which he had so often expressed, of seeing her once more before her departure to her heavenly rest. After spending a night at Hartford with their afl9icted friends, they proceeded to New Haven. Here they passed a pleasant week ; and then, returning by the way of Hartford and Springfield, they pursued their way to their western home, and arrived at Auburn on Saturday, the 15th. "We found ourselves," he says, in his first letter, " much looked and longed for." And after giving a hasty sketch of the journey, he adds, that he had two services on Sunday, and reports himself and family as all well. 3C2 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CRuSWELL. [1842. And again, in a subsequent letter, filled chiefly with details of his domestic affairs, he says, " We are all uncommonly well ; and the child, so far from taking any harm from her journey, seems to be exceedingly profited by it." Thus with recruited health and strength he is found quietly set- tled down in his winter quarters among his kind and attentive parishioners; and this again enables him to resume his correspond- ence, and to revive his poetical propensities. He writes to his father on his thirtj^-eighth birthday, November 7, "These anniversaries have of late flitted by so fast, that it seems as if they had come at least twice a year. ' Verily, our days are as a span long.' I note its passage chiefly, I trust, to profit by it." Speaking here of a new Manual of Family Prayer, which his father was then preparing for the press, he expresses sentiments which will scarcely be called in question: "You will, of course, not omit a birthday prayer in your collection. I am glad that it is to be furnished at so low a price as not to prevent its being a sort of universal manual. It is a happy evidence of the increase of the spirit of prayer amongst us, that such books are more and more in demand. It will, I trust, supply the void which we all feel to exist. Most pious families, out of the Church or in it, begin to prefer, I believe, a simple spiritual form to extemporaneous diflfusive exercises, especially when so many, even of circumcised lips, are rather those of Moses than Aaron. I need not say, at any rate, how glad we shall be to use it, and to know in the hours of our separation that we are calling upon God with one mind, and with one mouth also. These are associations which the Church makes peculiar provision for cherishing in all her public services ; and it is good to carry them deeply into our pri- vate devotional exercises and our household communion." The following incidental remark is thrown out in a letter of No- vember 14, among many personal allusions : " My head is full of ' unwritten ' essays in prose and poetry, on sundry subjects, some of which I hope will be ready for use in the course of the winter." In a letter of the same date, to his friend Miss H , he speaks still more explicitly on this subject. " My heart, to tell the whole truth, has been set upon sending you some rhymes of the series which I have so long contemplated ; but the hcau ideal recedes like the rainbow as you attempt to approach it, and the consequence is that you have had neither rhyme nor reason." Before dismissing this topic, he says, " Let me not forget to say, that if the editor of the Witness wishes the lines on Christ Church, they may have my imprimatur ; and if satisfactory, they will, I trust, be earnests of better things to come. With regard to the motto, I approve of the sug- gestion to strike out the clause alluded to. It grates harshly upon the ear, and perhaps inspiration alone has a right to make just such an application. It certainly would be misapprehended and resented 1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 303 in Boston, however true it might be regarded of ancient Per- gamos." There is something exquisitely touching in the following jjassage, which is transcribed from the same letter. Tlie child wiiosc death is iiere alluded to was baptized " William Croswell " by his own hand, while he was last in Boston. " Poor Mrs. Golbert ! as 1 rejoiced with her when I signed my name upon that little ' blossom t)f being,' how my heart trembles to think of the grief with which parents feel the loss of a child. And ' yet it is one,' to use the words of my favorite country parson's daughter, 'which ought to yield most readily to the comforts of religion. Though the baby be as fair as ever sun shone upon, it is none too fair for the place he has gone to. When I see how very much evil there is in the world, how much " sin to blight," how much " sorrow to fade," can I grieve tiiat so many frail buds are transplanted by the Lord of the garden to a fairer climate ? O, no ! Jesus said. Suffer little children to come unto me ; and I do believe he said it, not only in reference to the group of young Israelites then gathered around him, nor merely as an encouragement to Christian parents to trust their living treas- ures to his care, but that his omniscient eye looked round at that moment on the innumerable multitude of these little ones, whom his free grace has, in all ages, called to glory.' I know no more beau- tiful passage on the subject out of the Scriptures. Tell our afflicted friends how much I think of them in their bereavement, and that I have written out this passage for their consolation. As I turn from those thus mourning for their little one to the cradle at my side, how much cause have we to rejoice with trembling, that, while one is taken, another is left ! Graciously preserved through all the perils of a joaip.ey of eight hundred miles, she reposes in health and safety in the house where she was born." But few incidents remain to fill up the record of the present year. Besides the ordinary and current duties of the parish, — including sermons on Sunday, morning and evening, and Sunday school instructions every afternoon, — his preparations for the du^ obser- vance of the Thanksgiving and Christmas solemnities added much weight to his cares ; and the year closed as it had begun and con- tinued, with frequent, not to say daily, returns of the headache. He would most cheerfully have accepted a very pressing invitation to attend the consecration of Bishop Eastburn, in Trinity Church, Boston, on the 29th of December, had it been consistent with his sense of duty to his people ; and coming, as the invitation did, not only from many of his excellent friends in Boston, but also from his bishop, the refusal cost him the exercise of much self-denial. In the mean time, however, he seems to have sought a solace in composing the beautiful pastoral which is subjoined. These stan- zas were sent to the Albany Argus and to the New York Church- 304 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842. mail for publication, and from tliose papers they were transferred to the Christian Witness and Church Chronicle, and perhaps to some other periodicals. They were also sent to a friend in Boston, and to his father, accompanied by this r.emark : " I send the above, not as a substitute for a letter, but to show you what I have been about, and as an earnest that the sluices are in some sort opened of the old poetic feeling, and that I trust it will flow out to better purpose than of late years." A CBMSTMAS E\'ENmG PASTORAL. ' Te shall have a eong as in the night when a holy solemnity is kept." Tsaiafi. My own dear Church, how can I choose But turn, in spirit, back to thee. As on this hallowed night I lose Myself in pensive revery ? For in thy courts a single day, 'Tis good, if, but in thought, to dwell ; Nor may I tear my heart away From all that it has loved so well. How sweet to hear at eventide The pealing of thy silver chime. In tuneful changes far and wide, Give note of coming Christmas time ? How richly through the wintry sky It floats ! as if the heavenly train Sang " Glory be to God on high. And peace to peaceful men," While thus the vocal heavens invite. And bells ring out in angel tone, To Bethlehem let us haste to-night. And see the wonders there made known. Thy radiant courts are all a-blaze, And brilliant is the festive scene. As when rose on the prophet's gaze Fair Canaan, dressed in living green. The wreaths in loftiest arches tied, The boughs in each deep window spread, The festoons swung from side to side. The columns twined and garlanded • *^*2.] ST. PETER'S. AUBURN. The leafy cross which venturous arm Has dared to hang the chancel o'er, Give all tlie shady lodge a charm That never met the eye before. Thus, verdant as a sylvan tent, Thine old age puts its greenness on; Thy bowery aisles all redolent With goodliest smell of Lebanon. How fresh the branches stand, and thick! With what a dazzling light, and clear, Like Aaron's golden candlestick. Gleams out each ancient chandelier ! And he who looks above the crowd May almost see, in vision, swim Beneath the cornice, veiled in cloud, The mystic shapes of cherubim ; Now, listening to the grateful strain, Each in his angle seems to rest. With twain unfolded wings, and twain Spread crosswise on his raptured breast. And now a joyous echo rings. As if the whole angelic row. That o'er the rood loft poise their wings, Their loud, uplifted trumpets blow ; And quivering now through wavy trees, And throbbing breasts, with thrilling sound' Of solemn pastoral symphonies, A glory truly shines around. It shines on robes without alloy, On priestly vestment, pure and white, And on the shepherd's head whose joy It is to watch his flock by night. It brightest shines where hearts once cold Are kindling with the truths revealed. And, like the faithful swains of old, Beneath their gladdening influence yield. Thrice blest who thus the night prolong, Who soar on each inspiring tune. And emulate the " shining throng " That pass away to heaven too soon ' Thrice blest, who, as the years roll by, More fondly treasure up the word, 39 305 306 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. And God their Savior glorify For all that they have seen and heard ! Though many a friend is dead and gone, Though many a sainted face we miss, Long may thy tuneful peal ring on, That calls, dear Church, to feasts like this ! For whence could joy and comfort flow To aching hearts that bleed for them, But for His grace, whose reign below Began this night in Bethlehem ? To this last verse was appended, as a note, " This was one of the dying sentiments of a late young servant of Christ, eminent alike for his early endowments of grace and genius, whose ' sainted face we miss ' among the baptized children of Christ Church, Boston. ' O, say not so,' said he, in his last days, to a sorrowing friend wlio spoke of having a gloomy Christmas on account of his decease, ' O, say not so, but think what we should all be but for the birth which Christmas day commemorates ! ' See Bishop Doane's memoir of the late Rev. B. D. WiNSLOw." To this note it is not inappropriate to add the following short extract from one of his last letters of the year : " I had a kind let- ter from Bishop Doane yesterday. He tells me that Winslow's Remains have been printed at Oxford, and that he has a copy for me. You may be sure that I shall value it higlily. 1 have many delightful reminiscences of that departed saint, which, if my hfe is spared, shall in some way be given to the world." Alas ! that his life ended too soon — that the work was never done ! 1843, In one of the earliest letters of this year he expresses his senti- ments on two popular topics, which are so rational and temperate that they must commend themselves to the respect even of those who may differ with him in opinion. Speaking of certain voluntary associations of which young men become the most ardent and liberal supporters, he says, "They are not without their dangers, at least to young men whose principles are not fixed, not only in the expense of time and money which they involve, but in the facility which they afford for forming other associations of a different cfiaracter, and in 1S43.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 307 drawing off the interest from domestic, not to say religious duties. A tithe of the effort, time, and money which are required to give temporary activity and vitality to ohjects that perish in the using, woukl, with God's blessing, go much further in promoting the designs of that society, of which Christ is the almighty Head and Founder, with which we are all bound to be identified, as we value our soul's welfare, in time as well as eternity, and which is destined to survive ' the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds.' But I must not forget that I am not writing a sermon, though I feel that I ought to be." Again, with reference to a practice which was then becoming very prevalent, — that of raising money for charitable purposes by means o( fairs, — he says, "The ladies of the First Presbyterian Church got up a fair in aid of a destitute church at the west, at which, report says, dancing was among the entertainments of a ques- tionable character. Subsequently a sort of rival ejiterprise was got up for the relief of the poor of the village, which comes off to-night. Attempts have been made to get the patronage of the clergy in behalf of the object, and, with the exception of my own, have, I be- lieve, been generally successful. I consented to read the notice last Sunday, but coupled it with a protest against this mode of raising money for any charitable object. Consistency requires me to main- tain this ground, which has not been suddenly taken. I have for years entertained the most conscientious convictions of the inconsist- ency of these schemes of extortion with all Christian principle, and have further noticed some of tlieir mischievous effects upon those who have most actively engaged in them. I shall probably subject myself to some censure on this account, in some quarters ; but it matters little. The time will come when I shall stand justified before men, as I trust I do before God, in this matter." On the recurrence of St. Paul's day, the fourteenth anniversary of his ordination, he throws oft" in a letter to his father the following characteristic passage : " Alas for me if I forget the memory of this day fourteen years since ! How vividly its transactions still recur in the private watches of the night ! How profitably should they mingle with the thoughts of this consecrated day ! I shall try to embody the reminiscences they awaken in some fitting shape. Mean- while their record is on high." On Sunday, the 19th of February, he received verbal intelligence of the sudden demise of the Right Rev. Bishop Griswold ; and he thus speaks of the event in a subsequent letter to his father : " Un- expected as was the intelligence of the death of our right reverend father and friend, the presiding bishop, we were much struck by the fact that it should have first been communicated to Bishop De Lancey by Governor Seward, under this roof, where the mem- ories of Bishop Hobart's fragrant name fill the house as with the odors of precious ointment, and amid the scenes where our 308 MEMOm OF "SVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. diocesan received his episcopacy at the hands of Bishop Griswold. We had no particulars till the papers of the next day arrived; and yesterday an invaluable correspondent anticipated every inquiry which we could possibly have made, in a full account of the death and funeral. ... I mourn tlie loss of Bishop Griswold most sincerely. Not only in our official relations, but personally, he was always paternal and tender ; and I shall ever dwell with a sad pleas- ure upon those hours of earthly intercourse never to be renewed, but to be superseded, if I am but as well prepared as he was for death, by something better in heaven." This train of reflection was further continued in a letter to the correspondent above alluded to. Miss H , under date of Ash Wednesday, March 1. "Your letter touching the last things of the dear old bishop was too good, as I thought, for me alone ; and I made some extracts for the Gospel Messenger. . . . If I were to begin to tell of the emotions which that event has awakened within me, I should hardly know where to stop. It is most grateful and soothing to notice the universal expression of veneration and respect which the announcement of his death has called forth in all quarters, far and near. Truly, great is the lamentation that has been made over him ; and I sorrow with multitudes at the thought that I shall see his saintly face in the flesh no more. May we all so truly profit by the dispensation, that we may see his face again in glory, and may it be our renewed desire and prayer, that we may stir up the gift that is in us, by the laying on of his hands." The following verses were enclosed in a letter to the same corre- spondent ; not, he says, for publication, and they have probably never appeared in print. He styles them poor verses ; but of this the reader must judge. "HOUSES OF WORSHIP." Pray tell me, is yon classic dome. Hemmed in on either flank, Designed for God's, or Mammon's home A temple, or a bank ? And tell me why, to human eyes, No outward signs declare If it be house of merchandise, Or holy house of prayer. The Hindoo pagod's towers are gay With flaunting banners set; And crescents in the sunbeams play On mosque and minaret : ^®*3-J ST. rETER'S, AUBUIIN. As by the synagogue I went, Some months ago, I saw Conspicuous in the pediment The tables of the law. But who shall say of this unique With what it has to do, Or Catholic, or Heretic, Or Pagan, Turk, or Jew ? Or that new pantheistic sect Whose creeds with all accord, And worship, with a like respect, " Jehovah, Jove, or Lord " ? O, why should Christian men thus fear To lift on every shrine The symbol to their souls most dear, Faith's sure and steadfast sign ; That swerves not when the vanes are whirled, The sport of every breeze. As fitful as this fickle world, Or fancy's vagaries ? But look on all the neighboring spires, And see it written plain. The shape which most the town admires Is, like its name, but vain. The Cross is still a stumbling block, And noisy Gushfords vaunt That nothing but your weathercock Is purely Protestant. There were some reason on their side, If these same cocks could crow As often as is Christ denied By those who meet below ; Or could they Avarn the wavering, By passion tossed and doubt, Of their unrest whom every wind Of doctrine veers about. At this time some plain indications were apparent that another change in his pastoral relations was seriously contemplated, if not desired. This did not arise from any disaffection between his peo- ple and liimself. In the month of February, in reply to a sugges- 309 310 ilEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. tion that his services miglit again be required in Boston, he says, "I confess, as years roll by, I do not feel any less like a stranger and a pilgrim here, and cannot but hope, in the course of Providence, that we shall yet be brought nearer to each other. And yet we should be the most ungrateful of beings to complain of the line wherein our lot is cast, or be otherwise than content with the state wherein we are." He had every domestic comfort, and the affairs of the parish were in a promising state ; but he had much to dis- hearten him. He perceived an increasing tendency to indisposition. His labors were frequently interrupted by violent attacks of head- ache, and, during the winter, he suffered from time to time from complaints of the throat, which caused much anxiety on the part of himself and his friends, as well as his physician. When, therefore, ad- vances began to be made from the former scene of his labors, it is not strange that he should be inclined to listen. Accordingly we find in several letters to his father and other correspondents, written in April and during the Easter season, frequent allusions to a possible change. Writing to Miss C , with reference to a sug- gestion on this subject, he says, "We feel more and more, every day, like those who have no continuing city — pilgrims who dwell in tents, liable to be called to strike them at any time, either for another world, or for another part of this." But in a letter of April 11 to his father, the suggestion takes a more definite shape : "My Boston correspondents write me that the city mission is now vacant, and inquiring whether, in case it were offered me at a salary of one thousand dollars, and with a pledge to erect a chapel within the ensuing year, I would be disposed to entertain it. I have replied, that our aftairs here seemed to be at a crisis." He here mentions certain contingencies, under which he should feel absolved from any obligation to remain in Auburn. He adds, however, " It would be painful indeed to contemplate the dissolution of my connection with this parish ; and I have every reason to believe that the pain would be mutual. But being regarded as one of the most desirable parishes in the diocese, there would probably be little difficulty in supplying it to their minds ; and though not perhaps given to change, they are at least accustomed to it. With regard to the situation in question, I have ever regarded it as one of the most enviable in the city, as bringing him who is faithful to his duties nearest to him who was anointed to preach the gospel to the poor, and who ever delighted to call the poor his brethren. It is not a sphere whose occupations are novel or imtried by me, having made myself familiar during my whole ministry with its homeliest details, and become intimate with its least inviting aspects. Though I know not therefore what I ought to ask, perhaps I know the necessity of being bathed in the baptism of his Spirit, who came, not to be ministered unto, but to minister ; and with all the world before him where to choose, laid 1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 311 his course through the lowest vale of humiliation. May God give us all grace to follow more closely his holy example. Unless I am greatly deceived in myself, I could be more useful in that situation than almost any other ; and should be willing, at any rate, to try the experiment, in case it should be expedient for me to go away. Whether I am to be favored with this ofter, or whether the events which may turn up here may induce me to regard more favorably my position, a few days will now determine ; and in the mean while, 1 shall be thankful for your godly and fatherly judgment upon mat- ters as they strike you." It is, perhaps, quite superfluous to say tliat his father not only admired the spirit of this letter, but entirely approved of his favoring the suggestions of his Boston corre- spondents. On Easter Monday, writing to Miss Callahan, and enclosing the Elegiac Stanzas in memory of her nephew, the Rev. Benjamin D. WiNSLOW, already copied on page 234, he thus briefly alludes to the labors of love and charity in which she had aided him during his forjner residence in Boston, adding a remark fully expressive of the feeling which reigned in his heart : "Rest assured that you are much and often in my grateful thoughts, as I muse on the past, both in connection with him, (Winslovv,) and especially in connection with that most blessed walk of pastoral duty which has carried us together to minister in the consecrated abodes of Christian poverty and dis- tress. If it were God's will, with all the world before me where to choose, I would ask to enlist in the same service again, and with such helpers." Again, on the same day, in a letter to Miss Clark, he says, " Brother wrote me last Monday, to ask whether I would come if they did call for me, and bidding me write by return of mail, if it were but three words. I did so, and filled my sheet ; and authorized him, if he wanted any thing further, to obtain a sight of my epistle to you. I hope I have acted in the matter with a due discretion, and not said too much, nor any thing inconsistent with the trust and dependence on divine direction, which, in so momentous a matter, should be our^r*-^ principle. I have not allowed myself from the outset to suppose that the question was yet at our disposal or that of our friends ; knowing, by experience, that it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps. Though I have endeavored to treat the suggestion in the spirit of simple sincerity and good faith, I shall not, I trust, give way to any feeling or any expression of disappointment, however it may be finally settled." He adds, on hearing that Bishop Eastburn had remarked to one of his parishioners who had recently been in Boston that he was desirous of leaving Auburn, " I con- fess I do not like altogether the bishop's way of stating the matter ; never caring to be classed with those of whom it was said, I have not sent them, and yet they ran ; or being desirous of coming to Boston, except upon the supposition that my friends desired me to come." 312 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. Again, towards the close of the week, lie writes somewhat more at large, to his friend Couthouy and to his father, and in language of a similar import. The latter is more strictly confined to the sub- ject. " Though it is Friday in the paschal week, the earth is still very unclean. Nature is far from being advanced in the fairest colors of the spring, to welcome the triumph of the great Head of the Church over the grave : no vernal zephyrs, no green resur- rection, to harmonize with the services of the chief festival. The year is a month, at least, in arrears, as compared with the last, when the roads were settled in March, and I filled my vase with early wild flowers before this time. The advancement, however, will probably be more rapid in consequence, and there will be little difference in the progress of vegetation at the opening of summer. . . . The churchyard is at present quite a scene of unwonted activity, being full of men and boys trimming the old locust trees and setting out new ones. ... I have heard nothing further from our friends at the east since I wrote last. I am glad that your views on the subject correspond with my own. If it were God's will, on my wife's account as well as my own, it would require no self-denial to follow it most readily ; and there are very many who would join us in adopting the spirit of the one hundred twenty-sixth Psalm : ' When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, then were we like them that dream.^ It is not unlikely to be but a pleasant dream, though, after all. There is a great diversity of interests represented in the board of managers, and I am not at all sanguine that they would all unite in my nomination. I hope I am not unduly anxious about the matter, nor indeed any thing else ; and would fain take no needless thought for the morrow." The doubts here suggested of the result of this movement proved to be but too well founded. Still, while the matter was yet in suspense, he continued to speak of it, in his letters to his friends, in the same frank and familiar manner, as if no such doubts existed. On the 2d of May he writes to his father, " Nothing further of any moment from Boston. The delay makes me think that there is oppo- sition to my nomination. This might have been expected. It dimin- ishes the probability of a removal thither at present. I will not go into a divided house, when I can remain here by unanimous con- sent and something more. I am anxious however to have the ques- tion decided, and at once, and before I write again I trust it will be." And he writes also much in the same manner to Miss H : " I have not been sanguine with regard to the result of this move- ment ; and if I had been, the silence at the east I should have re- garded as ominous. I can easily conceive of a great diversity of interests, directly and indirectly, being arrayed against me. . . . My removal at this time would, I am inclined to think, be an entire surprise to the people, nor do I see any indication in their present 1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 313 deportment that my time has come. Let it only be as seemeth good to God ; and let us not, in our impatience, hasten his work to our hurt. In due subordination to him, I repose myself in this matter with implicit confidence in the hands of my Boston friends." But, aware as he was of the conflicting interests which might sway the several members of the board of managers of the city mission, and uncertain as he considered the result, he was not pre- pared to see precisely on what grounds his election might be opposed, nor how for mere party feelings might be brought to bear against him. But he was not kept long in suspense. The result was soon made known to him, as well as the means by which it was effected ; and it would not be consistent with the plan proposed in bringing out this work, to suppress, from motives of false delicacy, any fact or circumstance which might be deemed essential to the exhibition of his life or the illustration of his character. The circumstances were faithfully detailed to him, and by him communicated to his father in a letter of the 16th of May. " Tidings reached us, at last, on Saturday evening. A meeting had been held the week previous, and a committee appointed to nominate, a majority of whom, after consultation vi'ith the clergy, nominated me. Before acting on the nomination, the meeting was adjourned till last Thursday. On open- ing the subject, Dr. V. objected, (disclaiming at the same time any personal objections,) simply on the ground that it would be ' the rending of Christ Church.' Driven from that position, the real mo- tive was developed — the candidate was not an evangelical preacher, could not touch the sinner's heart, &c., &c. This called forth a handsome vindication from brother Watson, of Trinity Church ; but there was much excitement and confusion, and the bishop was obliged to call to order. The result, however, was, to defer the choice for three months. This, of course, puts the question at rest so far as I am concerned, and much to my relief; for as time has passed since the subject was first opened to me, I should have been sorry to be obliged to decide on its acceptance. With regard to Dr. V.'s imputation, I should prefer to enjoy his good opinion with regard to my fidelity as a preacher of the cross, especially because I have no reason to believe that there is any real difference between his views of vital and experimental religion and my own. At the same time, I ought to be willing, however severe the trial, to suffer a shame and reproach which evangelists {par eminence) have been so free to cast on the reputation of men, both dead and living, of far higher claims to completeness in Christ than even Dr. V. himself. Even the piety of our late sainted father in God, Bishop Gkiswold, did not go undoubted in certain quarters ; and one of the editors of the Recorder, who was the first to garnish the sepul- chre of the venerable White, was accustomed to the inquiry from one of his confederates, whether the old bishop was converted yet I 40 314 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. Bishop Griswold, I am sure, if living, would have given me a very different character ; and so, I verily believe, would many others who know me better. It is, after all, as St. Paul truly says, to be ac- counted a very little thing to be tried by man's judgment, seeing he that judgeth us is the Lord. The project in question has brought out many grateful testimonies from friends who are neither feeble nor few. I think it probable that it will lead to some organization among them with reference to me, in God's good time, and in a way that will be perhaps more inviting in all its aspects." Yes, in this half-prophetic suggestion he was not mistaken ; for in the holy providence of God he was allowed the opportunity to " live down," on the very spot where this wrong was done him,, the un- generous imputation of his brother of St. Paul's; and what is still better, that brother, who had permitted himself thus to assail him, was spared to bear testimony, with his own lips, to the injustice and groundlessness of the imputation. After the settlement of this matter, he confined his correspondence more particularly to domestic and pastoral affairs ; and few notes are found of general interest to record. He frequently speaks, in language perfectly natural to a Christian parent, of the growth and progress of his little daughter ; and on Whit-Monday, June 5, he thus writes to his father of an important stage in her existence : " In addition to its usual stirring associations, the great feast of Pen- tecost was the more interesting yesterday from its being the first birthday in our child's eventful life ; and it did not pass without a petition for spiritual mercies in her behalf, and grace to hve the rest of her life according to iits baptismal beginning." He adds, " With regard to our daughter's proficiencies, it would not be worth while for me to begin to write. I leave that topic to my wife, who gener- ally exhausts her paper-and-pen eloquence upon it, when writing to her sister or some such willing listener." In a subsequent letter, June 19, after speaking of his partial re- covery from a severe cold and hoarseness, which had unfitted him for public duty, he adds, " I have engaged to officiate at Skeneateles on the glorious fourth, in brother Clark's church, in a kind of sei'- vice, which he has been obliged, as it were, to resort to, to keep his juveniles from injurious associations. I have consented to do so rather as a choice of evils, as the only alternative was to act as chaplain at a sort of military parade here, and to which I have a most decided and increasing repugnance." His next letter was dated at Skeneateles, July 8, and though it re- lates, in part, to personal matters, almost every word of it may be transcribed. " Here we are, wife, baby, nurse, and all, spending a few days very delightfidly at brother Patterson's villa, on the marge of this enchanting lake. I came over alone at the beginning of the week, to assist brother Clark at his Sunday school celebration on 1843.] ST, PETER'S, AUBURN. 315 the fourth. It seemed providential that it was so ordered ; for on the night of the third a letter was received, informing him that his brother-in-law, Rev. Mr. Lewis, the excellent rector of the church in Mobile, was very low in New York ; and Mrs. Lewis, who, with her children, were spending a few weeks here, set off on the morning of the fourth. Mr. Clark accompanied them. It was well that I was here to relieve him of all concern for the service. . . . To give Mr. Clark more entire command of his time in his absence, it seemed still more providential that I was able to insure him my as- sistance to-morrow — the j)ainters and whitevvashers having taken possession of St. Peter's, and making it quite doubtful whether we get admission for yet another Sunday after the next. Under these circumstances, we concluded to avail ourselves of the opportunity to make our long-promised visit to brother Patterson, whose com- plaints need the solace of congenial company ; and accordingly came over, under his escort, on Thursday. The baby, whose teeth have been troubling her considerably, seems much improved by the change of air ; and that, together with the beautiful scenery, and, more than all, the kind and gentle attentions of our endeared friends here, is working much, I trust, for my wife's benefit. For myself, who am wonderfully well, thank God, it is a most luxurious enjoyment to be here. To a poetical temperament, the scenery of the lake is most captivating ; and the opposite and distant shore, under the magical and varying aspects which every change in the atmosphere and play of the light is constantly producing, seems to belong to some un- earthly and supernatural region." After his return from this delightful retreat, he found his time and attention much engrossed in preparations for the annual session of the diocesan convention, which was to meet in St. Peter's Church on the 16th of August. But this was not all. " In addition," he says, " to the cares which devolve upon me, with reference to the approach- ing convention, I am taken captive and entangled in my capacity of trustee of the Auburn Academy, whose examinations I have been as entirely engaged in conducting, for the last two days, as if I were the only member who had any leisure ! It is not yet quite done, the exhibition taking place at the meeting house, where I have to preside, pray, and report, this afternoon." The repairs of the church were now completed ; and an addition to the parsonage, which had been in progress for some weeks, was also in a state of forwardness. Writ- ing on the 25th of .July, he says, " We reopened our church hist Sunday under favorable auspices, and it presents a very satisfactory appearance ; and the new part of the house, we trust, will be just about tenantable by the time it is wanted for the convention." His letters of the month of August, to his father and other cor- respondents, are chiefly occupied with notices of the convention and other ecclesiastical affairs, from which a single passage may be 316 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843. extracted. '« The Lord gave the word, saith the Psalmist ; great was the company of the preachers. So it was here last week. The con- vention was very full, and, the bishop said, the best that had yet been held ill the diocese. . . . There was much anxiety on the part of the diocesan lest there should be divisions among us ; but he was wonderfully relieved to find that all, from the commencement to the close, was tuned to harmony, — ' From harmony to harmony, Through all the compass of the notes it ran.' " From his somewhat hurried and sketchy letters of September, here are one or two brief extracts. He acknowledges some pleasant visits from his elder and younger brother and other friends ; and though he records in his journal an almost daily recurrence of headache and other symptoms of indisposition, he appears to have had much enjoyment in the society of his friends. Speaking of the new addi- tion to the parsonage, which, it seems, included a small chapel for Sunday school purposes and for special lectures, he says, " Our chapel is now completed, and was used for the Sunday school yes- terday. On Thursday, St. Matthew's, we open it with proper ser- vices. It is all paid for, and the parish is in good spirits. They are thirsting to be instructed in our distinctive principles ; and I shall make it my duty to meet the demand." With reference to the Boston city mission, he says, " What you hear from Boston corre- sponds with my information. The city mission question was settled a week ago. I have just learned the result, but nothing more. Our excellent brother Wells was elected, and a better choice could not be made. My especial friends would be better satisfied with him than any other, save one, who was not to be had." Writing to his father, October 11, he says, "I have just returned from Moravia, whither I accompanied the bishop on Monday, to be present at the consecration of the new church, that arises, phoenix- like, from the ashes of the old, destroyed by fire last year. The ride was a delightful one in such company, along the eastern shore of Lake Owasco, from one end to the other, making the whole dis- tance about eighteen miles. The scenery, including this interesting sheet of water, with its high and diversified bank, partly under cul- tivation, and green with the winter wheat, and partly clothed with forests in their tinted autumn foliage, is picturesque beyond descrip- tion. Moravia is a dear little place — snugly nestled in a sheltered nook, formed by a continuation of the same hills in which the lake itself is cradled ; and I almost envied the aged pastor of the dale his rural cure. A kind, simple-hearted, intelligent body of Church- men adorn their profession ; and the services made it a day much to be remembered by its endearing associations." 1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 317 A few extracts are subjoined from a lono; and pleasant correspond- ence witli some of liis female friends in Boston, Misses C and H , October 27. " I was at Skeiieateles, on Tuesday, tbrouals. Resolved, That we have carefully considered so much of this letter as touches upon our province and duties, to wit, the furniture and arrangements of the chapel, and do not find any thing there al- luded to by our bishop, except the communion table, the cross, and 360 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. the candlesticks, by which the chancel is lighted in the evening ; and that, as to these, we can see no just cause of complaint. Resolved, That, in placing a single cross in the window of the chancel behind the altar, we believe we have introduced no " offen- sive innovations upon the ancient usage of our Church," but have the example of a multitude of churches in England, and an increasing number in our own country. That it is hardly for us to enter upon the defence of a usage so ancient, sacred, and continuous. Resolved, That in the matter of the communion table, or altar, we can see no cause for censure, or even for scrupulous doubt. It is a simple movable table, of pine wood, standing upon four legs, occupying the usual place, covered with a plain crimson cloth, having no resemblance to the altars used in Roman Catholic churches, and differing in no respect from those in general use among us, unless it be in having a small shelf on the side next the wall, which we sup- pose is immaterial, as it is believed that the same may be seen in some other churches, where it has remained without objection. In fact, so far is this, in our opinion, from tending to superstitious prac- tices, that we have thought it might rather be liable to the objection of being too much like the table of common household furniture, to meet the requirements of the holy table and altar, which the Prayer Book teaches us to consider it. Resolved, That as candles have never been burned in our chapel, except during service at night, for the purpose of lighting the chan- cel, (as on the occasion of the confirmation referred to in the letter,) we presume the bishop's objection can only be to the use of the candlesticks upon the altar instead of some other mode of lighting the chancel. That when the chapel was furnished, we deliberately considered the different modes of lighting the chancel, and were unanimously of opinion that candlesticks were more appropriate than the modern fashions of gas fixtures or globe lamps, as being more scriptural and ecclesiastical, more significant, more consonant with the feelings of a worshipper, and less liable to mixed and sec- ular associations. That we are informed that, on this point, we have the support of an existing rubric and a not unfrequent practice of the Church of England, and the example of churches in this country and this diocese, where candlesticks have b^gn used in this way for years, without objection or remark. That we have recon- sidered this subject since the letter has appeared, and cannot but believe that the substitution of either of the other modes of lighting the chancel for the four candlesticks now in use would be repulsive to the feelings of the congregation, and aiding in the deplorable in- troduction of novel, secular, and uncanonical decorations into sacred places. Resolved, That although the position our minister may be led to take, when engaged in an act of worship, is not within our super- 1815.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT 361 intendence, yet we cannot but record our regret at the maimer in wliicli tlic letter speaks on that subject. That the custom lias been uniform, from the first opening of our chapel, for the minister, in the devotional parts of the service, to turn his face towards the holy table, wlHither kneeling at its side or more in front, and that we have never known any other " postures used " in these services than that of sim- ple kneeling, as required by the rubric. That this mode is congen- ial with our own feelings and sense of the proprieties of public worship. That we know it to be grateful to the worshippers at the chapel. That, so far from giving offence, we have found that not only the stated worshippers, but strangers, whether of the Church or of other religious bodies, have frequently expressed their sense of its fitness and solemnity. That it is of material aid, as we believe, in abstracting the mind and centring it upon the divine worship. That although it is not for us to decide upon rubrics intended for the direction of the clergy, yet we may say, that we understand them to be constructed upon the supposition that the minister will face in the same way with the people when engaged with them in the same acts of devotion ; " turning towards the people " when he ad- dresses himself to them, as in reading Holy Scripture, the sermon, and the like. That, as our congregation has become habituated and attached to this mode of worship, (some of them having thus first learned the Church,) we should feel regret at having it abandoned, independently of its general propriety. Resolved, That, taking a general view of this subject, we believe, and have frequently heard it said, that the arrangements of the chapel are simple and consistent ; and we know that the mode of conducting the worship has called forth an interest and engagedness in the service on the part of the congregation which is most encour- aging to both priest and people. Resolved, That inasmuch as our bishop, in his letter, has publicly spoken of the practices of our rector as " superstitious," and " pue- rile," and has charged him with " exposing the church to ridicule and contempt," and " degrading its character and perilling the souls of the people," we cannot but record, with deference, but decidedly, our convictions to the contrary, and our solemn protest against the man- ner of this condemnation. We cannot express our sense of his many excellences, of the untiring and self-sacrificing efforts he daily makes for the good of his people and the poor of the neighborhood, of his dignity and simplicity in conducting divine service, and our obligations to him for liis solemn and affecting instructions. That his labors have met with great success in building up the parish, and, we believe, in the spiritual growth and comfort of many that are under his charge. That we cordially sympathize with him in the efforts he is making, by the daily service, the observance of holy days, a regular offertory, the use of free sittings, the introduction of 46 362 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^^LL. [184o simple and ancient music, visitations of the poor and sick, and fre- quent celebration of the sacraments, ordinances, and offices, to do his part towards presenting the Church in its entireness before this community. Resolved, That the assistant minister, of whom the letter speaks, has, as we believe, conformed to the usages of the parish and to the wislies of the rector, and has won the respect and affisction of all by his patient endurance, his self-denial, his constant labors, especially among the poor, sick, and afflicted, and his single-minded devotion to the duties of his holy office. Resolved, That when we consider the character, age, and services of our rector, and that most of the officers of the parish are personally known to the bishop, we are the more surprised at the appearing of this letter, as well as at its tone. That we regret it the more, as it places us, unexpectedly and unwillingly, in the attitude of a public defence against our ecclesiastical head in the diocese. Resolved, That the clerk procure a copy of the " Christian Wit- ness " referred to, and place it on the files of the parish ; that these resolutions be entered in full upon the records ; that a copy of the same be transmitted to the bishop ; and that they be sent to the " Christian Witness " for publication. C.' R GORDON, j ^«'■^^"^• THERON METCALF, THOMAS D. MORRIS, ALEXANDER WOOD, R. M. COPELAND, R. H. DANA, Jr., J> Vestrymen. W. E. COALE, R. H. SALTER, THEODORE METCALF, C. R. BOND, The rector also addressed the following letter to his diocesan : — To THE Right Reverend Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts. Reverend Father in God : 1 received through the post office this afternoon a copy of the " Christian Witness " of December 5, contain- ing the following circular : [Here follows the letter, as at page 357.] I am fain to believe that many of my clerical brethren in that mystical body, whose members suffer one Avith another, will feel hardly less deeply hurt and aggrieved than myself, both by the man- ner and matter of the foregoing official communication. As one who truly loves the brotherhood with whom he has been so long and so intimately identified, and who has ever desired to carry himself 1845.1 CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 363 dutifully towards liis bishop, according- to the vows of his ordination, I cannot affect to conceal the distress which it has given me ; nor will you wonder that I should be most anxious to rescue myself, before the Church, from the fearful charge of having introduced imong the " flock of God, of which the Holy Ghost hath made me overseer," " irregularities, degrading to the character of the Church, and perilous to the souls of our people." On such a charge, the canons require that every clergyman should be presented, tried, and convicted, before the bishop is authorized to pronounce sentence. As I have been condemned, in this case, without the formalities of a hearing, I see not what is left me but to present, with a brief state- ment of the case, my earnest but humble protest against a proceed- ing so severe, and, as I am inclined to beheve, in our branch of the Church, so entirely unprecedented. I send you, also, at the request of the wardens and vestry, a copy of a series of resolutions unanimously adopted by them, at a meet- ing held on the evening of the 5th instant, in which your letter receives a careful and respectful consideration. Having passed the first eleven yeai-s of my ministry in this city, as rector of one of the oldest churches, I need not speak for myself of my manner of life during that period. I left, in 1840, to take charge of a parish in the diocese of Western New York, not only without censure or reproach, but with a voluntary testimonial of a,ifection and confidence, signed by the bishop and every one of our clergy resident at that time in Boston, Newton, and Lowell. In transferring my canonical relations, your truly " i-evered predecessor, now resting from his labors," wrote to Bishop De Lancey the fol- lowing dimissory letter, a copy of which I have happily preserved : — Dear Sir : The object of this is to transfer from the State of Massachu- setts to your diocese the Rev. William Croswell. Merely to say that, for three years last past, he has not been justly liable to evil report, for error in doctrine, or viciousness of life, though eminently true, seems in his case very unnecessary. He will leave behind him no clergyman more highly, more justly, or more generally esteemed for those qualities which constitute and adorn the gentleman, the scholar, and the faithful minister of Christ. While, with many hundreds of others, I deeply regret his loss to this diocese, I may well congratulate you on such an accession to yours. That in his new situation he may find friends as numerous and as cordial as those he leaves, is the prayer of Your friend and brother, A. V. GRISWOLD. The prayer of the aged and beloved bishop was answered, in my new' residence, beyond my expectations and deserts. Of this, how- ever, it is foreign to my present purpose to say more. I would gladly have said less. But, though unconscious of the slight- est change in the principles and views with which I entered the 364 MEMOm OF "^TELLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. ministry, or of deserving, in any respect, to forfeit the confidence of those who are set over us in the Lord, yet a glance at the heinous imputations against me, in your circular, painfully convinces me, that a testimonial, from such a quarter, of my " freedom from any just liahility to evil report," however " eminently true," may not seem so " very unnecessary." Suffice it to say, that I joyfully embraced an opportunity which offered, just a twelvemonth since, to return to this city of my affec- tions ; and accepted, with your sanction and approbation, reverend father in God, the rectorship of the newly-organized Church of the Advent. I found a band of zealous and intelligent laity ready and willing to cooperate with me. We commenced, under every disad- vantage, in a humble and obscure " upper room." It was my " heart's desire," in accordance with the closing aspiration in your circular, "in my high and holy calling to set forth the unsearchable riches of Christ to a world lying in sin and death." ^fext to this, in building up a new parish from the beginning, it was our unanimous wish to carry out, as strictly as possible, the intentions of the Church, as tliey are expressed in the Prayer Book. With these two objects steadily in view, I have been willing to labor in season and out of season, and from house to house. As in the primitive days of the gospel, by the divine blessing, the word of God has grown mightily and prevailed. We removed to our present chapel, which, though very convenient, is not large enough for the accommodation of our people. The Lord is still pleased to add daily to the Church such as, we trust, shall be saved. The number of communicants has increased to more than a hundred ; thirty persons have been bap- tized, of whom nine have been adults ; and several others are pre- paring themselves for the same " washing of regeneration." I ascribe, reverend father in God, the blessing which has thus far crowned our efforts chiefly to the simple and constant exhibition of our church, as a church "instant in prayer," and by seeking to stir up nil that is within us to make the most of our privileges, and thus exhibit -the service, not as a mere formality, but a free-will offering of the heart and understanding. To inspire the feeling of earnestness and reverence in others, we have sought to be earnest and reverent ourselves. We have knelt devoutly before and with our people, " towards God's most holy place," as our new version of the Psalms expresses it, that they also might learn to kneel after our example. The effect has been all that we hoped for. The flame has spread from heart to heart. The cold silence and wan- dering looks, the carelessness and apathy, which are subjects of complaint in so many places of worship, have disappeared before it. Many, who have come without religious sympathy, we have reason to know have been joined together with us in a new bond of Christian union. I venture to say, that the expression of " ridicule and con- 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADA^XT. 365 tempt," to wliicli you allude, has not been known among us ; though doubtless some who "came to scoff" have "remained to ])ray." The establishment of the daily service has, according to our fond anticipations, eminently contributed to the same happy result. It was commenced on the 1st of September last, and has been since continued without intermission. To meet the demands of this ser- vice, in addition to our many other duties, I secured the assistance of a brother beloved, a native of this city, not without your being apprised that it was in contemplation, whom I had known and esteemed, from the first beginnings of his ministry at Lynn, for his self-sacrificing fidelity, and his patient endurance of hardness as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. While I heartily respond to the terms in which he is noticed in the resolutions of the vestry, it is proper for me to add, that whatever censures you have thought fit, thus pub- licly, to cast upon the arrangements or mode of worship in our chapel, no part of them should fall upon him. The responsibility rests with myself and the vestry. He has simply conformed to our usages and my wishes, and has neither suggested nor practised any variations therefrom. I need not say, reverend father in God, that your visitation to our parish had been looked for with much interest. The crowd of worshippers on that occasion, the simple but inspiring music, " the hearty and athletic responses, the sympathy of sacred sounds, the collective strength of prayer," the devout and reverential demeanor of the congregation, the number and respectability of the candidates for confirmation, (all persons of mature years,) and your own unusually glowing and fervid address, — made us feel that it was, indeed, good to be there ; and we could not but regard these as grateful evidences that God was with us of a truth, and had signally- blessed our efforts to revive the tone of public worship from the cold and lifeless state, the want of vitality and engagedness, into which it has so confessedly fallen among us. I need not say that I was greatly disappointed to find that your feelings, at that moment, were so entirely different from mine. In the hasty and impulsive, not to say excited, remarks which fell from you, while my mind was yet filled with the impressive and solemn services in which we had just united, — and even before you left the chancel, — I did not recognize any thing like a formal or deliberate, much less authoritative, judgment in the matters to which you alluded. The style of rebuke, addressed to my assistant, was such as I never had the pain to hear from any bishop before. It was administered, not on account of his kneeling in front of the holy table, * one might be led to suppose from your letter, which he did not do, (although it is every where done without blame, whenever three clergymen are in the chancel,) but on account of his not turn- ing his back upon it, and facing his chair — a position which, as I 3G6 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. had at tlie time no knowledge of your preferences, would have made him liable to reproof from me. You afforded the wardens and vestry, on that occasion, no opportunity to confer with you, although they waited long at the entrance of the church to do so ; nor has any communication, whetlier official or otherwise, since been made to us collectively or individually. I could not but expect, that if, upon reflection, in that very brief interval which occurred between your visitation and the publication of your letter, you should conclude these matters to be of sufficient gravity for episcopal correction, you would, at least by official communication of something like a private character with the rector, wardens, and vestry, have designated the new mode of worship which you wished to have introduced into our chapel. As you state that, during that time, you " expressed your views as opportunity oft'ered to various individuals " other than our- selves, so might you have had opportunity of ascertaining, at least, whether the result of such a communication with us would or would not have prevented any supposed necessity of " utterly and unquali- fiedly condemning " a clergyman and his vestry in this public man- ner. It might, at least, have left you without occasion for the some- what remarkable admission, in regard to a parish " under your own immediate eye," that " whether the course adopted there will be continued or not, it is beyond my ability to conjecture." If, how- ever, in the exercise of your discretion, it seemed more proper, before thus communicating with the parties most interested, as a spiritual father with his children in the faith, to call the attention of all my clerical brethren to my alleged delinquencies, I cannot but regret that you should have preferred, to all other obvious modes of doing so, that of publication in the columns of a newspaper ; thus seeming to expose our common mother, the Church, to the gain- saying of the world. Since the publication of your letter, I have carefully examined it, again and again, to ascertain precisely the grounds on which your charges and condemnation are founded ; and can discover nothing but what relates to the arrangement of the chancel, and the posture of the officiating ministers in prayer. These topics — the chancel, holy table, candlesticks, cross, and attitude — are so satisfactorily treated in the accompanying resolutions, that further comment might seem to be unnecessary. It may be expected, however, that I should give my own opinions, without reserve, on all these subjects, in their order. In the arrangements of our chancel, with reference to the size of our chapel, the utmost simplicity consistent with the decency and dignity of public worship was intended ; and I am not awate that it contains a superfluous article. A communion table of the plainest description, and which has nothing to recommend it but its fair pro- portions and its decent covering — the gift of an individual ; four 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 367 candlesticks, on a shelf immediately above the holy table, to light the chancel at evening ; two narrow and high-backed chairs, imported at an early day, as I am informed, by our Pilgrim fathers, for the use of a Puritan parsonage ; and a lectern, — as entirely simple and unadorned as a common music stand, — from which the word of God is read and also preached to the people. Above the table, in the window, is the cross, the symbol, of all others, which we delight to make most conspicuous. These constitute all the furniture of the chancel ; and I doubt whether there is another in the city which contains less of what can be dispensed with, or that is reasonably or unreasonably oftensive. For the evidence, in detail, that our communion table is not fitted up like a Roman Catholic altar, I refer to the resolution of the vestry on that point. Their views on this subject correspond with my own, so far as I can judge by description, not having seen the interior of a Roman Catholic place of worship for many years, and having very indistinct impressions with regard to it. But, though the holy table in our churches bears no resemblance to a Roman Catholic altar, reverend father in God, is there no sense, I appeal to you, in which the members of our Church may say, with the blessed apostle, " we have an altar," as well as priest and sacrifice ? On this subject, the views of the Right Rev. Dr. Henshaw, Bishop of Rhode Island, are essentially, I presume, your own, as well as mine and those of most of the clergy ; or, if not, they will not, I am sure, be denounced as a part of that " unsound and unchurch-like theology " with which the faithful are to have no sympathy. " What," says he, in his lecture on " the true construction of the terms altar, priest, and sacrifice," which has been published in many forms, and with which you are doubtless famihar, — ^^tvhat is an altar ? In its simple idea, it is something upon which, of at tvhich, an offering is sacredly made to God. It is a common mistake to suppose that an altar necessarili/ implies that the offerings presented upon it must be bloody or animal sacrifices. There is nothing, however, in the term itself, or in its use among all nations, to justify this exclu- sive interpretation. From a very early period of the Christian Church, the holy table, where the common praises and prayers were offered up, and where the Lord's supper — the highest act of Christian devotion — was celebrated, was called an altar. This appellation has been common in every succeeding age ; and we are very familiar with this application of it in our own. Other denomi- nations of Christians, no less than the Church, speak of their altar, where they celebrate the most affecting services of their religion, and invite persons to approach and siirroimd it, in the expectation that God will meet with and bless them there. This word occurs but once in our Prayer Book — in the institution office ; but, as there applied, we know that it indicates what is called ' the Lord's table,' 368 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. and the 'holy table,' in other parts of the book. No one mistakes our meaning when the word is so used ; all know that we mean the place where the sacred mysteries of our religion are celebrated, and our most solemn offerings of devotion presented to God." " We have no wish to mystify what is plain ; but, on the contrary, to relieve the minds of humble Christians from perplexity, by explain- ing language which the Church has seen fit to employ, and teaching them nut to he alarmed ichen things are called hy their right names.'''' If, then, reverend father in God, we of this church have, in this sense, or any sense, an altar, why should it be a subject of " utter and unqualified condemnation " that it looTcs so very like an altar ? In the matter of the " golden candlesticks," I will only add, to what has been said in the resolutions of the vestry, that, so far from being an offensive innovation upon the ancient usage of our Church, these ornaments are in strict accordance with the existing English rubric. Dr. Wheatly — whose "Rational Illustration of the Book of Common Prayer " is commended as a text book, by the House of Bishops, to the " careful study " of every candidate for holy or- ders— states expressly that "two fights were, by the injunctions of King Edward VI., and by the Act of Uniformity, passed after the reformation, to be set upon the altar." " And these lights, used time out of mind in the Church, are still continued in most, if not all, cathedrcd and collegiate churches and chapels, so often as divine service is performed by candlelight ; and ought also to be, by this rubric^ used in all parish churches and chapels at the same time.'''' This usage, there- fore, is directly inherited by us from our martyr reformers. With regard to contemporaneous practice in the mother country, it is suf- ficient to say, that the Bishoji of London observes, in a late charge, " I see no objection to candles on the communion table, provided that they are not burning, except when the church is lighted for evening service." If it were worth while, in a matter of so little importance, to look for authority in our own diocese and city, it might be stated, that in Christ Church, — the only one of our older churches that was ever opened for worship at night, — previous to the alterations in the year 1830, lights were burning upon the holy table as often as they were needed at the evening service. With regard to " the cross," I cannot bring myself to say one word in answer to your objection. I am happy to confess, that I am " childish and puerile " enough to love and rejoice to have that precious symbol presented to the eye in all holy places — " of all symbols the most speaking and most touching ; proclaiming Christ crucified ; the alpha and omega of the Church's existence." Neither the size, nor the fact that it is " wooden " as well as " large," can in any way affect the feeling or the principle, though they may help to give it character and significancy. I hand it over to " the sensible and enlightened persons of other Christian bodies," who are referred 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 309 lo in the note, and who do not forget, in the sign, the thing signi- fied.* This objection is the more remarkable, because there is not one of our churches in the city wliicli is not as open to censure on similar grounds. To begin with Trinity Church or Cathedral, the chancel of which has been arranged and highly decorated since your incumbency, if not under your supervision. We miss the cross, in- deed, but the mitre is not excluded. There is the descent of the Mystic Dove, the tables of the law which came by Moses, radiant with glory ; the prayer of our Lord, and the creed of the Holy Catholic Church ; to say nothing of the monumental emblems and the likeness of " the living dead " graved on the tablet erected, un- der the sanction of the convention, to the memory of your meek and saint-like predecessor. For the same reason that 1 rejoice to see these, I should more rejoice to see the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. Christ Church has always abounded in imagery, painted and carved, of every description, and in every direction ; and there are few among us who have not interesting and affecting associations connected with its beautifully-curtained altar piece of the last supper, with its golden chalice ; the descent of the Holy Spirit ; and the rays over the chancel, in the midst of which is disclosed the ineffa- ble name. Over the holy table, in St. Paul's, is a painting of the transfiguration, direct from Rome. At Grace Church, a cross in bold relief, on the shaft of the baptismal font, intercepts the eye between the porch and the altar. In the chapel of the Church of the Messiah, there is a cross over the holy table. Trinity Hall is arranged much like ours, in what yon regard its objectionable fea- tures ; and at St. James's Church, in Roxbury, a cross is conspicu- ous among the decorations of the chancel window. In this respect, * The late Dr. Adam Clarke, a burning and sliining light of the Methodist connection, who -vvill not be suspected of any leaning towards Romanism, tells us that, in passing through a graveyard, he was struck -with the appearance of graves ornamented with crosses and garlands as tokens of affectionate regard. " A frozen-hearted formalist," says he, " may condemn this, and call it super- stition ; true religion and pure affection would give it a far different name. I felt and could have wept with the disconsolate parents and siirvdvors, and kissed the crosses by which the meritorious death of our blessed Savior was thus held out to public view, as the only foundation of the survivor's hope, that death, the last enemy, should be finally destroyed, and that those hearts knit together here in pure and honest love should be reunited in eternity, where bonds can no more be broken, and death can never enter." — Life, 2d edition, 1841, p. 289. Dr. Gkaxt, a missionary of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, teUs us, in his travels among the Nestorian Chiistians, that he was giiided by one of the bishops to a plain stone cross which lay upon the altar, supposing that he would manifest his devotional feelings, after their own cus- tom, by pressing it to his lips. " There is something," says he, " very affecting in this simple outward expression, as practised by the Nestorians, who mingle with it none of the image worship or the other corrupt observances of the Ro- man CathoUc church. May it not be that the abuse of such symbols, by the votaries of the Roman see, has carried us Protestants to the other extreme, ■when we utterly condemn the simple memento of the cross ? ' 47 370 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. reverend father in God, are not all the members of our communion, yourself included, yea, and all our fathers before us, and even the original continental Protestant reformers, included in the selfsame condemnation ? The Lutherans have retained the cross in theii churches ; and if we, who follow their example in this respect, are justly stigmatized as Popish, then, as the learned author of "No Union with Rome " remarks, were Luther and Melancthon them- selves eminently Papistical. The only otiier subject of censure to which you have alluded re- lates to the position of the clergymen in the devotional parts of the service ; by wliich I understand you to refer to our kneeling with our faces towards the holy table. To nothing else can the equivocal expression, the " postures used," which I regret to see in your letter, be applicable. We use no other " posture " in prayer than that of kneeling towards the altar ; and this is no other pos- ture than that which every reverential worshipper is taught to assume in his devotions in the house of God, and which every mem- ber of our communion adopts, when he is invited to draw near in faith to the holy table, and to make his humble confession to Al- mighty God, devoutly kneeling. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive how any one is to pray at the holy table, without turning his face towards it ; or why that posture should be stigmatized as " super- stitious," when used within the chancel, which is adopted, as a matter of course, by every one without it. I have had experience of its happy effects on my own mind, in aiding reverential feeling, collectedness, and abstraction of thought, and freedom in prayer, as the countenance was relieved from the constraint of a gazing congregation. Indeed, I must confess that I can see no distinction, in principle, between facing the altar at its corner, as was done by my assistant on the evening to wliich you refer, and facing it at its side, as was done by yourself on that occasion. True it is, that we have endeavored to observe the distinction which was made by the compilers of our liturgy between the daily morning prayer and the ante-communion office. This has been done in accordance with the directions of our best ritualists, with regard to the " place of reading prayers and the position of the minister." " From what has been brought together," says Rob- ertson, in his masterly and dispassionate work entitled " How shall we conform to the Liturgy ? " " we may conclude that the rubric was originally understood to fix the chancel as ordinarily the place in which the service should he read. In some cases, perhaps, it was said at the holy table ; but it seems to have been more generally said in a lower part of the chancel, where the priest's stall was constructed. The stricter Churchmen turned eastward, (*'. e., towards the altar,) which position, as well as the place of service, the Puritans vehe- mently objected to." Would it were the Puritans only who seem 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 371 to object to it now, when those who desire to be accounted among ♦« the stricter Churchmen" turn in the same direction. On this subject great diversity of opinion and practice has prevailed, and been tol- erated in different portions of tlie Church. One of our bishops, some years since, complained that tlie holy table was frequently "placed so low as hardly to be seen, unless it is looked for," and recommended the abolition of the reading desk, on the ground of its manifest uselessness, and the gain eff'ected in additional room. Another has expressed a wish to abolish both desk and pulpit, con- fining the devotional part of the service to the proper place, — the altar, — and using the movable Bible stand from which the lessons are read for the sermon, hoinily, or exhortation. This was our preference in arranging our present place of worship ; and the ser- vice is thus exhibited, in open view, in all its simplicity, beauty, and integrity, as designed, we think, by the framers of our ritual, and as the early Christians, without doubt, beheld it, antecedent to the days of Popery. In adopting these authorized and edifying practices and those arrangements which insure the least display, and without which suitable room for our chancel could not be obtained, we cannot perceive that we have given any ground for the charge of intro- ducing " irregularities degrading to the character of our Church, and perilous to the souls of our people." We do but stand fast in that liberty wherewith Christ and the Church have made us free. Uniting upon the broad platform of the ancient creeds, and cleaving steadfastly to the established formularies of the Church, and abiding by its prescribed practices, we claim the same latitude, in mere matters of opinion, which we freely accord to others. The peace of the Church is only to be preserved by such mutual concessions as are required by an observance of the three great rules for main- taining catholic concord — " In essentials, unity ; in non-essentials, liberty ; in all things, charity." If the practices which form the subject of your letter fall under the second head, as we have sup- posed, then the " liberty " has little to recommend it, which can only be exercised under the penalty of ofliicial denunciation. If, how- ever, it is not in these, but in " essentials," that, in your judgment, our usages are irregular, degrading, and perilous, then the canons prescribe the proper and obvious remedy for the offence. While the wise and prudent provisions of the Church in this respect are intended to serve as a guide to her bishops in " so ministering dis- cipline that they forget not mercy," they are intended no less as a protection to the inferior clergy against condemnation without trial and without conviction. Waiving entirely the indignity offered to me as a man, therefore, I feel that I have just cause to complain, as one of the presbytery, that the protection which the Church has thus provided for that body has been by this precedent rendered of none 372 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS\^^LL. [1845. effect. It is hard, indeed, to conceive how any " irregularity " can possibly be more " degrading to the cliaracter of our Church," or more to be deprecated in these days of disquietude, rebuke, and blasphemy, than tlie virtual " degradation " of the clergy in the eyes of tlieir people by metliods alike unknown to the system of the Church and to the laws of any well-ordered government. Reverend father in God, you will perceive the regret expressed in the resolutions of the wardens and vestry of our parish that they find themselves forced into a position of defence towards one with whom they had endeavored to hold different relations. If these are the sentiments of the laity of my charge, how much more sensibly must I be affected by them ! Those who know me will bear me witness, — and if I know myself, their witness is true, — that I would have endured much evil speaking, rather than be compelled, as I have been, by a public condemnation, to a public defence. But all the relations that I sustain in this life — and I do not deem it too solemn to add, towards the life to come — seemed to call upon me not to be silent under your accusations. You have taken occasion, through the public press, to hold me up as a pres- byter who has been unfaithful to his vows, who has not hesitated to sacrifice to an inclination towards idolatrous usages and to supersti- tious puerilities the character of the Church and the souls of our people. If charges of this description were true, there would be little question whether I were worthy to be a Christian minister, since I should hardly be a Christian man. This were indeed to " be toward the flock of Christ" not " a shepherd," but " a wolf." " This is not a vain thing for me," therefore, reverend father in God, " because it is my life." Nurtured from childhood in the strictest principles of the Church by a venerable parent whose long and consistent ministry has made his " hoary head a crown of glory " in the sight of the whole Church ; rooted and grounded in the distinctive principles of the faith, not by "Union Questions" of all denominations, but by such little books as his own "Rudi- ments of the Church " and " The Young Churchman's Guide ; " honored in being a catechumen of Bishop De Lancey, during a portion of his academic life at New Haven ; instructed in theology at the feet of Bishop Brownell, at Trinity College, Hartford ; receiv- ing authority at his hands to minister in holy things as a deacon ; and admitted by Bishop Griswold to the priesthood, as one of those who had " used the oflice of a deacon well, and had purchased to him- self a good degree," — I claim tliat my training, as a " Hebrew of the Hebrews," ought to be above the shadow of suspicion. Having thus been " taught according to the perfect manner of the law of the fathers," I contiiuie to this day in the things that I then learned and have been assured of, knowing of whom I learned them. I have let my eyelids look right on, and mine eyes look straight 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 373 before me, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, and de- siring no other or more excellent way than those good " old paths " in which they had hitherto led me, and in which they had found, with myriads of the redeemed before them, true rest unto their souls. From the time that I was appointed " to stand in the house of God and to minister at his holy altar," — and I am now no novice, — each succeeding year has brought the increasing convic- tion, that " in proportion as we imbibe the spirit of our noble army of martyrs and reformers, as exhibited in the liturgy and ordinal, the more effectually we shall preach the true gospel of Christ and insure the divine blessing on our labors." It has been my heart's desire ever to do thus. I have honestly endeavored, according to the grace given unto me, and in the plain, unsophisticated sense of my ordination vow, " to give my faithful diligence so to minister the doctrine and sacraments and the disciphne of Christ as the Lord hatli commanded and this Church hath received the same." When it pleased the great Head of the Church, reverend father in God, to cast my lot in this new field, where the laborers are not sufficient for the harvest, it pleased him also to inspire the hearts of the respectable and intelligent laity of our parish with more than common zeal in this holy work. Their names and standing in this community are a guaranty that it was not "a zeal not according to knowledge." They know — and there is One who knows better than any of us — that I have determined from the first, the Lord being my helper, to know nothing among them save Jesus Christ and him crucified ; and that I have longed to be a means, in his hands, of bringing many of them to glory. They know that I have labored earnestly for the peace and purity of the Church ; that I have not only " studied to be quiet," myself, but " to set forth quiet- ness, peace, and love among all Christian people." They know that I have thrown myself, to use the words of a dear Christian brother, " fearlessly, trustfully, and dutifully on the system of the Prayer Book, in its whole form and spirit, keeping back from the people no portion of the heritage to which they are entitled, and giving them the full benefit of all the means which are provided to enable them to 'grow in grace,' and to make their 'calling and election sure.' " They know, as those only who have tried it can know, that " the more faithfully they discharge the duties which the Church enjoins, and the more minutely they comply with her various requirements, the more rapidly they grow in admiration of her prac- tical system, and perceive her wonderful capacity to satisfy all the yearnings of the human heart." They know, also, that these well- meant efforts have been appreciated far beyond our most sanguine expectations ; and that " high and low, rich and poor, one with an- other," have resorted to our humble services, as to " the shadow of a rock in a weary land." In the midst of this state of things, and 374 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. with these prospects, " it is not an open enemy that has done us this dishonor; hut it is thou, my guide ! " However unhappy the con- sequences may be elsewhere, I am sure, among those who know me, of their continued confidence, and their lively sympathy and prayers. But with all these supports, and the testimony of a good conscience besides, still it is the sorest of all trials to our sinful nature " to do well and to suffer for it, and to take it patiently." That grace is only to be acquired by the discipline of the cross. Looking to that cross as our only hope, I bow my knees to Him who loved the Church and gave himself for it, that this severe affliction may be overruled for good ; that we may take up our cross daily, and bear and endure it, rather than talk about it ; and exercise the lessons of forgiveness which it teaches towards those by whom we are wounded in the house of our friends. In this spirit I would also entreat your forgiveness, reverend father in God, as well as that of our great Head in heaven, if I have unawares exceeded the bounds of a due earnestness; if it is I, indeed, who have been, unconsciously, the " troubler of Israel," or if it is I who, by any form of error, in word or deed, have caused to offend one of the little ones that believe in Christ ! I remain, reverend father in God, Yours, in " the holy office of priesthood," W. CROSWELL. Boston, December 6, 1845. These three documents, being published together in pamphlet form, were thrown into general circulation ; and such was the de- mand for them, that edition after edition was called for, until the whole issue amounted to several thousands. In addition to the preparation of this public appeal, the rector found time to keep his father apprised, through his private corre- spondence, of every thing that was passing around him. December 10, he writes, " I ought to have written you many days since, in or- der to relieve the anxiety which my silence, I fear, must occasion, and to explain the nature of our unhappy relations with the bishop. Since the issuing of his letter, however, I have been much engaged in preparing a respectful remonstrance, founded on a statement of the case, and in which I have the best advisers and counsel ; and this has so engrossed me, that I have not the time, nor have I had the heart, to disturb you. We shall issue our publication this week, and it will make you, I trust, neither ashamed of your son, nor abate a jot of your trust and confidence in his fidelity to the ordina- tion vows assumed in dear old Trinity, at New Haven. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. The Lord is on our side, and we have favor with the people. Of the conduct of our diocesan, it is not necessary or becoming that I should here express 1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 375 myself; but I wish you could see some of f»ur friends, and liear the expressions that reach us from every quarter. ... As soon as this is off my mind, I will write more fully. Next week I hope to attend the meeting of the Board of Fellows, at Hartford, on Tues- day ; and, in that case, shall give you the balance of the week at New Haven. In the mean time, keep quiet, and also keep up a good heart, as also do we. I have seldom seen our people more exhila- rated. There is another view, however, to be taken — the conse- quences to the Church ; and this makes it, whatever the issue to us, a sore trial. Pray for us." In his next, December 15, he an- nounces his intention of visiting Hartford and New Haven, and ac- knowledges the receipt of his father's letter, which, he says, "is a great gratification to me. It corresponds exactly with what I hear from every quarter." After his return, which was greeted by his friends with great cordiality, he again writes, giving an account of the great number of letters which were pouring in from all directions ; and adds, " I could Jiot have anticipated such a burst of enthusiasm ; but it shows with what warmth the catholic members of the Church draw towards each other, and how lively the flow of circulation is through its great heart. Already our second edition, like the first, of a thousand have been scattered in every direction, and is exhausted. Anotlier edition of two thousand more will be ready to-morrow, to supply the demand here and abroad." Lastly, on December 30, he writes, " Messages still continue to come to us from all quarters of the land ; and our notoriety, if not our fame, seems to ring from side to side. Our four thousand copies are nearly exhausted. Appleton, of New York, has ordered a thousand, to meet the demand in that region. He writes to one of our vestry, that he endeavored to pre- vail with the editor of the Protestant Churchman to publish it ; but he says he cannot., though it seems he does not scruple, according to your account, to make his comments upon it. . . . Until yester- day, I have not happened to meet Bishop Eastburn. In going through Summer Street we passed each other, saluting with great civility as we continued each on his way in opposite directions. I do not know how agreeable it might have been to him ; but it dis- turbed me but little." During the excitement of this occasion it was but natural that the press, both religious and secular, should become more or less involved in the controversy. The bishop's organ in Boston having sounded the keynote, all the religious periodicals of the party caught up the tune, and, as in duty bound, undertook the defence and justification of the bishop ; while, through the medium of anonymous pamphlets and the secular press, many attempts were made to divert public at- tention from the real merits of the case. But none of them were suffered to affect the rector of the Advent and his friends. They had more than sufficient to satisfy them, in the full, abundant, and 376 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845. cheering testimonials of approbation already alluded to. It would be highly gratifying to copy some of these testimonials at large, and to select portions of all. But a few extracts only can be given. Some of these were written under strong excitement, immediately after the appearance of the bishop's circular in the Witness, and be- fore the reply of the rector had been issued, and may now be passed over. The first extract is from the letter of a layman of higii stand- ing and respectability in a neighboring diocese : — " The extraordinary course of your bishop has excited, so far as I hear, a conunon feeling of disgust and reprobation ; while your reply, in its whole spirit and manner, is regarded as such as the occasion demanded, and worthy alike of your sacred office, the rights of your church, and the feelings of an injured man. . . . Cir- cumstances have unfortunately placed Bishop Eastburn in a position that enables him to inflict wounds upon the Episcopal faith and char- acter ; and he has availed himself of its opportunities to an extent, and in a manner, beyond the worst hopes of its enemies. It is very desirable that the facts, as they are, should be known, — for, wherever they are not known, they will scarcely escape misrepresen- tation, — and that the circular, with your letter, and the resolutions of the wardens and vestry of the Church of the Advent, should be widely circulated. We desire many copies for our uses here and for different parts of the diocese. . t . And now, well beloved, go forward in the strength of your position, and doubt not in the favor of the great Head of the Church. This intended rebuke, as grievous and wounding to a sensitive mind as it is derogatory to the Christian character and the teachings of Episcopacy, — nay, unworthy of our common humanity and the conventional rules of social life, — will, if there is a spark of the old spirit unextinguished in the ancient commonwealth, recoil upon its author with great and just severity. In a true church, and among a free people, such arrogance and unfairness of arraignment and condemnation — an accusation so lofty in its equivocal generalities and yet so ' puerile ' and ground- less in itself — may swell the tide of worshippers at the Church of the Advent, but must finally limit the followers of a heartless and arro- gant bishop to such as prefer the mitre, rather than the cross, as the symbol of their faith. . . . If we cannot imitate your noble devotion to your faith and its duties, and your example of a blame- less, elevated, zealous, but unpretending Christian life, we can admire these qualities, and give you, all of us, our sympathies and our prayers." The next in order of date is from a venerable presbyter of his own diocese — a clergyman of gentle spirit, but of great firmness and decision of character : — " I am truly thankful to you for your kind letter, as well as for the pamphlet. I was a little uncertain as to the course which you 184o.] CHUllCH OF THE ADVENT. 377 might think proper to take in regard to that extraordinary commu- nication of the bishop, althougli I was perfectly satisfied that what- ever you might do in the premises would be just what the occa- sion required. I am delighted with the manner in which you have treated the subject — calm, dignified, and consistent with your char- acter, as a man and minister of God's holy Church, and, at the same time, conclusive in argument and forcible in appeal. It was, indeed, a matter of surprise to me that the bishop, whom I wish to honor and esteem, should so far have mistaken his duty by giving way to excited feelings as to endeavor, by ' indirect means,' to throw odium upon one of the most worthy of his presbyters, and to place under the ban of ecclesiastical censure a parish that deserves only encour- agement and praise. But in these days of ' rebuke and blasphemy,' of selfish purposes and party organizations, we ought not to be astonished at any thing. It is enough to know that we must suffer as well as labor ; and from whatever source our trials may proceed, there is great comfort and satisfaction in the belief that He ' whose we are, and whom we serve,' will guide us by his grace and defend us by his power. The spirit with which you have written is an assurance to your friends that you are rightly armed in the cause of truth and righteousness, and that no enemy will be permitted to have the advantage over you. I trust that, under the protection of Him who walks in the midst of his ' golden candlesticks,' you will go on in prosperity, ' in nothing terrified ' by adversaries from with- out or within ; and that neither prejudice nor misrepresentation will disturb your peace or interfere with your usefulness." The next extracts are cited from the letters of two presbyters of the diocese of New York — both of whom are of high standing in the Church, are somewhat advanced in age, and have ever been ranked among the most conservative of their brethren : — The first says, " I have just received and read your reply to Bishop Eastburn. I have not time now to write at length ; but I cannot allow a moment to pass without thanking you for the copy I received, and assuring you that my whole heart goes with it. Under almost any circumstances that I could have conceived of, my feelings would have been very strongly in favor of passive submission. These are days in which we need the strongest examples of defer- ence to those who sit in the seat of the apostles. But considering the state of the public mind, and the nature of this wretched appeal to popular passion and prejudice, I declare I could not see how you could, in duty to the Church or to yourself, refrain from uplifting your ' testimony.' . . . May God guide and prosper you, and turn this trial altogether into good." The other writes more at length : " I was not only ' deeply hurt and aggrieved ' at the unworthy treatment you have recently met with, but more indignant, I fear, than your meek nature would 48 378 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROS^^^LL. [1845. permit you to be. As to what course you would pursue I felt uncer- tain ; but I knew that it would be wise, Christian-spirited, and gen- tlemanly. It is all this and more, if more could be expressed. Nothing could have been better, more appropriate, or, as I should suppose, more effective. I cannot see a point in statement, argu- ment, or expression that could be altered with improvement. I received the letter last evening, and have read it, with the resolutions of the vestry, several times. The resolutions are admirable. God be praised that you have such a body of laity about you. I see in this movement a step in advance for sound Church principles and practices, not only with you, but throughout the Church in our liemisphere. This, if done in a corner, will resound throughout the land. Be of good courage, therefore, and our shame and mor- tification at such an Episcopal ebullition (for we must all feel this sentiment far more than we do exultation at your triumphant vindi- cation) will be turned into thankfulness to Him who makes the wrath of men to praise him." The following warm-hearted salutation is from an ardent young brother in a more distant diocese : — " May you have a good deliverance ! You have done well in the stand you have taken ; and kept such temper under the provocation as, I am sure, few of us could command." The opinions expressed in the following extracts are those of a presbyter of another diocese, who, from his own showing, must have written with calm deliberation, and without personal or party prejudice : — " I have read Bishop Eastburn's letter to the clergy of his dio- cese, and feel confident that the impression which it was adapted to produce on some minds must be unjust and injurious. It was with great satisfaction, therefore, that I read your letter to the bishop in your own defence. As you know, I have not the pleasure of a per- sonal acquaintance with you, and consequently am not influenced by partiality in the opinions which I have formed on the case. I may say further, that there is nothing peculiar, either in the arrange- ments of the church in which I officiate as rector, nor in my mode of conducting the service. Nay, I am rather averse to some things which you and your wardens and vestry approve. But I must say that I think your treatment by Bishop Eastburn was unjust, unkind, injudicious, and uncalled for, and adapted to disturb the peace of the Church. I cannot admire, approve, or envy, either the matter, the manner, or the tone of tiie bishop's letter. Even if his motives and his feelings were pure, and had he felt constrained by duty to use his legitimate influence and his canonical authority to secure an alteration, his letter was precipitate, unfeeling, and unworthy of your ' right reverend father in God.' It was, therefore, with great satisfaction that I read your manly and masterly defence. I see 1845.] CHTJECH OF THE ADVENT. 379 nothing in matter, manner, or spirit to condemn, but much to admire and approve. I most sincerely sympatliize with you, and trust that God will give you grace and strength to maintain yourself in the Uberty wherewith Christ and the Church have made you free, and to preserve the Christian temper which pervades your letter. I rejoice that you have wardens and vestrymen able and willing, under God, to sustain you in the midst of your trials. My approval and sympathy are of small moment to a man of your principles and position ; but to gratify my own feelings, and do an act of simple justice to a distant brother, I have written these lines." This, also, is from a presbyter of a distant diocese : — " I received to-day through the post office a copy of your letter to the bishop of Massachusetts, occasioned by his letter to the clergy. I seize my pen, in the first place, to thank you for it. . . . In the second jjlace, I beg to assure you of my sympathy under what 1 cannot but look upon as a most unkind and wanton attack. If I may judge from this distance, and knowing nothing except from your letter about the matter, it seems to me that the manner in which the bishop makes his onset \\'\\\ counteract itself, and shield you. His sharp and bitter and overstrong expressions strike me as wholly out of place and uncalled for. ... I am much pleased with the tone and spirit of your letter. ' Studying to be quiet,' may we all be so, trusting that He who bore the cross for us ^vill enable us to bear it after him." Many other letters from clergymen of age and Christian experi- ence — some of whom have since been called to their reward — express similar sentiments ; conveyed, indeed, in many instances, in language of strong indignation against the oppressor ; while, in every case, the course pursued by the rector and his vestry is entirely and cordially approved. It is needless to say how much his father was moved by this un- warrantable assault upon the reputation of a beloved son. He saw, on one hand, an assailant, buoyed up by official power and influence ; on the other a humble subordinate, with nothing but his Christian integrity and faith in God to sustain the shock. Still, with such " fearful odds " against his son, he could not doubt the result. With an honest parental pride, he saw with what prudence, and judgment, and Christian grace the young soldier of the cross interposed the shield of truth against tlie shafts of one who, without cause, had made himself an adversary. Contributing, therefore, as far as pos- sible, by his counsel and encouragement, to fortify and sustain him in the conflict, he cheerfully and in good faith committed his cause to God. It has been said already that the scene in the Church of the Advent, after the confimnation, was an incipient step on the part of the bishop, in a series of measures, hostile to the interests of the 380 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. parish and its rector. That there is no mistake in this assertion, will be roved by the succeeding narrative. It will be perceived that there was no relaxation in the policy of the bishop towards the Church of ti)e Advent, nor in his harsh and tyrannical treatment of the rector, until death closed the labors, the cares, and the trials of this faithful servant of Christ, and left the bishop to reflect on the wrongs that he had inflicted on an unoffending laborer in the vine- yard over which God had given him the stewardship. 1846. An incident very soon occurred which sufficiently shows that no wrong has been done to the bishop in imputing to him a settled hostility to the Church of the Advent. On Sunday, the 18th of January, a young clergyman, who was visiting his parents in Boston, had officiated in the morning at the Church of the Advent. But having accepted an invitation from the Rev. Mr. Watson, assistant minister of Trinity Church, to preach for hira in the afternoon, he accordingly repaired thither for the purpose of fulfilling his engage- ment. " The bishop," says the letter which relates the incident, "had been apprised of it, and assented to the arrangement. He re- ceived Mr. very pleasantly, inquired after his father, and, while he was preparing to put on his robes, asked what he had been doing with himself in the morning. replied that he had been offi- ciating. Bishop. ' Where ? ' Reply. ' For the Rev. Mr. Ckos- WELL.' Bishop. ' Then I must tell you that you cannot preach here. After the course which I have taken with regard to the Church of the Advent, I cannot allow you, with any consistency, to go into this pulpit.' He repeated the same idea in various ways, to which , with his characteristic meekness, simply replied, ' that he was not aware that it involved any inconsistency.' But the bishop ended the conversation with the remark, that he must be the judge of that ; and our young friend took his hat and went to St. Paul's. His fa- ther and friends (who had come to Trinity Church to hear him) were sitting without, waiting for him to make his appearance ; and had no idea, until the service was over, what had been the matter. . . . The clergy who have heard of it are very indignant, and regard it as a wanton and unprovoked insult. . . . Everybody inquires, as if we had not yet reached the ' ne plus ultra,' What will come next 1 or whose turn will it be ? . . . His father called on the bishop for explanation, but got no satisfaction. He said, more- over, tliat he should make it a rule for the future to deal in the same way with those who preached at the Advent." 1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 381 In carrying out these designs, the bishop had a subservient press to flatter and encourage him ; and while the party papers were thus ministering to his pride and self-complacency, they were notoriously unscrupulous in their mode of assault upon the Church of the Ad- vent. Proposing to send a copy of one of these papers to his father, he says, " I will send it, that you may see how far the force of party malignity can go, and how bent these men are on their own destruc- tion. Every paragraph of this description sends new recruits to the Church of the Advent, and in the end will be overruled to great good." Such, indeed, proved to be the fact. Their place of wor- ship was uniformly well filled, and sometimes crowded, and much ardor and enthusiasm prevailed. " Nothing has transpired," he says, " of public concern, since Mr. 's affair ; but there is no saying what unaccountable thing the bishop may take it in his head to do nexto" Speaking of some proposed exchanges, he says, " The clergy, some of them, manifest an anxiety to be known as hav- ing officiated at the Advent, notwithstanding the bishop's injunc- tion." The following is the substance of a letter of January 21, addressed to the agent of the Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union, and will sufficiently explain itself: "In reply to your favor of the 17th, enclosing the request of the executive committee of the Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union that I would undertake the revisal of their Sunday School psalms and hymns, I hasten to say that I feel a deep interest in this portion of their work ; but that my impression is most decided, that it would be much easier to make a good collec- tion de novo than to attempt to amend the old one. I have long had the idea in my mind of what such a book should be, but have done little or nothing towards realizing it, and the materials within my reach are of the scantiest description. Still I have little doubt that I could secure the assistance of Messrs. , , and other of our own poets, and by making what we could not find, — and com- posing only where we could not better compile, — something could be easily arranged, which would harmonize with the spirit of our services and the order of the Christian year, and be ' taking,' as the phrase is, not only with children, but with all childlike hearts. I should be unwilling, however, to engage in it without having placed at my command some of the choice collections of verse of this de- scription, original and translated, which have been issued within a few years in our motherland, casual specimens of which, floating in some of our periodicals, have charmed me with their exquisite simplicity, and their true, church-like tone. I should expect the committee to furnish me with these to a reasonable extent. The rest would be a labor of love. If the committee think proper to engage me on these terms, I am ready to commence at once. 382 MEMOIR OF WITXIAM CROSWELL. [1846. One thing I would suggest furtlier ; and that is, that I have no de- sire that it should appear in any more pretending form than that of the selection which you sent me, and indeed should be anxious that its purchase should be within the means of the poorest child among us. I have no sympathy with the disposition which has been mani- fested, of late, to get up children's books in an ambitious and extrav- agant style ; and would discourage it by example and precept, so far as it lay in my power. It has occurred to me, as I write, that it would correspond with the purposes for which it would be con- structed, and not be an unpoetical conception to call it The Children IN THE Temple ; and to admit nothing within it that might not be kindred in its spirit with their Hosanna to the Son of David ! " In transmitting a copy of this letter to his father, he says, " I think it more important to do this work well than at first might seem ; be- cause it may have an important influence on that revolution in our metre psalmody, as a portion of public worship, which every cath- olic heart must sigh for." In a subsequent letter, he informs his fa- ther that the executive committee had authorized him to proceed with his work, in all respects, according to his own suggestions ; " and," he says, " I do but wait the arrival of a package of the books which they are collecting for me, to commence the arrange- ment of the hymns for the ' Children in the Temple.' " Having learned, however, that Keble had at this time in the course of pub- lication a new book on a similar plan, but entirely original, and having also received from the executive committee some further suggestions with regard to a larger collection of church poetry, he seems to have suspended the prosecution of his plan ; and, so far as can be discovered, he never found time to carry it into execution. It is certain that no such work was issued from the press of the union ; and nothing can be found, beyond a few samples among his loose papers, to show that he ever made any considerable progress in the undertaking. The following hymns were not probably designed to form any part of this collection. Though without date, they were evidently writ- ten at an earlier period. They are inserted here merely to show his facility in accommodating poetical numbers to the capacities of the juvenile mind. HYMN FOR THE INFANT SCHOOL OF CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. Though steep and narrow is the way. And perilous each stair, How many little feet to-day Have safely clambered there ! 1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. And thus, whate'er life's trials be, Still upward may they press, Till with their angels they shall see God's face in righteousness. Here be faith's ladder fixed secure Whereon their souls may rise, And make, through Christ, their entrance sure To mansions in the skies. And on that day when last are first, And heaven's high gates draw near, O, be it theirs to hear the burst Of welcome, " Come up here ! " A SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. The sparrow finds a house. The little bird a nest ; Deep in thy dwelling, Lord, they come, And fold their young to rest. And shall ive be afraid Our little ones to bring Within thine ancient altar's shade, And underneath thy wing ? There guard them as thine eye, There keep them without spot, That when the spoiler passeth by Destruction touch them not. There nerve their souls with might. There nurse them with thy love. There plume them for their final flight To blessedness above. At this time, when daily prayer was offered both morning and evening at the Advent, and when his pastoral duties were unusually engrossing, he was still enabled, by divine assistance, to dismiss all disturbing and vexatious thoughts, and to tune his heart and his harp to strains of sweet sympathy and condolence. He had heard of the deep affliction of the friend and companion of his youth, Henry Edward Peck, who ha?l been his schoolfellow and his classmate in college, with whom he had ever cherished the most close and intimate relations, and Avith whom he had stood, as the friend of the bridegroom, at his marriage. This friend had been 384 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. bereaved of his eldest child, a son of great promise, who, at the age of fifteen, was just entering upon his course of collegiate edu- cation. Writing to his father, he says, " I grieve to hear of the calamity that has overtaken our dear friends in the death of their first born. I will endeavor to send them words of comfort, and remember them in my prayers." The following lines show how well this resolution was fulfilled : — AD AMICUM. Friend of my early youth, Whom each succeeding year, Disclosing depths of love and truth, Has made to me more dear. The spell at length is burst That kept me dumb so long, And at my heart, as at the first, Old friendship's pulse is strong. The scales fall from our eyes, Nor darkly now we see How youngest hearts may realize That life is vanity. How valueless now seem Its passing smiles and tears ! Like dreams remembered in a dream Its imagery appears. O, lovely was the sight. When last I saw thy son, And hailed the promise with delight With which his youth begun. It brought to mind the days Of our own golden age, Ere yet we took the separate ways Of manhood's pilgrimage. As in that fairyland Through which we trod when boys, Pursuing ever, hand in hand. Our studies and our joys. We saw him pressmg o'er The selfsame pleasant road Where we had passed so long before To learning's high abode. CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 3a5 But ah, how soon the train Of visions melts like foam ! We search for that sweet face in vain In thy afflicted home. How hast thou borne the blow By which the wreck was made ? And tears that in such anguish flow, How shall their course be stayed ? I, that did once rejoice To be the bridegroom's friend. Till I can cheer thee with my voice, Some soothing strain would send. But who but God can dry The fountains of your grief? And when the merry hearted sigh, Who else can give relief? O, in this dark eclipse. Though all be gloom beneath, Methinks I hear some angel lips These words of comfort breathe : "Believers, doubt not this — All that God takes, and more. In that approaching world of bliss He will, through Christ, restore." W. C. Boston, March 12, 1846. In a letter to bis parents, under date of Easter Tuesday, he writes, " I know that you will be anxiously looking for us at New Haven every hour about this time, and I wish that I had some more satisfactory apology for not having apprised you of my intentions. During Passion Week, it was so that we had matins and even song every day, and lectures in addition, of which (including the Sundays and the two days in Easter week) I have prepared and preached nine. Besides our parochial services, there have been many painful and exciting duties and occuj)ations, growing out of the ti'oubles in Trinity Church and Mr. Watson's resignation. This was an unexpected step, and one which his clerical brethren would not prob- ably have advised. It seemed, moreover, not absolutely necessary, from the very overpowering number of his friends among the pro- prietors. These have not been diminished by this act, but increased rather, while tlie excitement against the author of the persecution which has driven him away is prodigious. I have no doubt it is all for the best." It is not designed, in these pages, to enter at all into the 386 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. merits of this controversy between the bishop, as rector of Trinity Church, and the proprietors, touching liis treatment of Mr. Watson. Tlie whole affair was spread before the pubhc at the time, and was doubtless well understood. After giving a brief statement of the case in his letter, and mentioning the departure of Mr. Watson, he adds, " They had a dull Easter at the cathedral, (Trinity Church,) like the passover to the Egyptians ; but the children of Israel at the Advent had light in their dwellings. Our services were very animated and delightful, and the daily prayers have been much fre- quented. There is no prospect, at present, of their forsaking the assembling of themselves together around our altar." He speaks very gratefully of a valuable Easter gift, received from the ladies of the parish as a token of their interest ; and after making his arrange- ments for the proposed visit, he concludes, " We are all well at this present, and have great cause to rejoice that we have been carried through much arduous duty with so little weariness." Although, as just remarked, it is not designed to meddle with the controversy between the right reverend rector and the proprietors of Trinity Church, yet it may be proper to give place to the two fol- lowing resolutions, introduced, among others, by William H. Gar- diner, Esq., at a meeting of the corporation of Trinity Church, May 4, 1846, and passed with almost entire unanimity. It will be perceived, that w^hile the first pointedly disapproves of the party ground assumed by the bishop in his dealings with his clergy, the other is equally opposed to the rule avowed by him for excluding from the ministrations of his church such clergymen as happened to differ with him in certain narrow theological views and opinions, and especially those who had officiated at the Church of the Advent : — '■'■Resolved, That the proprietors of this church have not viewed with indifference the questions which of late years have divided and greatly agitated the whole Protestant Episcopal communion ; but, on the contrary, avoiding themselves all participation in such con- troversies, they have viewed these dissensions among brethren of the same church with unmingled dissatisfaction, and intend, if it be pos- sible, that all such matters of dissension shall be utterly excluded from the walls within which they and their ancestors, for more than one hundred years, have peacefully worshipped. " Resolved, That the proprietors of this church do not recognize nor admit, as a just and appropriate means of advancing the cause of true religion, the principle of exclusion from the altar or the pul- pit of clergymen of regular standing in the Protestant Episcopal Church, and otherwise well approved for piety, learning, and a blameless life, and conforming to the settled usages and forms of worship in this church, for the cause of theological views or opinions not involving a case for ecclesiastical censure on the score of non- 1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 387 conformity to the doctrines of the church of which they ])rofess to be members." But this pointed rebuke had no effect in cahning the hostile pohcy of the bishop towards the Church of the Advent and its rector. It will be perceived, before the record of the j)resent year is concluded, that the episcopal power was exercised in other modes of annoyance. But it may be remarked, in passing, that these hostile measures, instead of checking, rather promoted the flow of good feeling from other quarters. The gift of a beautifid alms chest from the Lord Bishop of Frederickton was among the gratifying tokens of regard for the interests of the parish ; and the following extract will show how it was appreciated by the rector. Writing to his father May 11, he says, " Our alms chest made its first appearance in the porch of the church this morning. It is greatly to be admired, and will attract much attention. I do not know that it will escape episcopal censure as a thing of superstitious devices. I hope it will serve the great end designed, in keeping in mind those of Christ's poor who are ever, according to his prediction, and for our sakes, to be with us. God bless them ! " Another significant token of respect for the rector, and of confi- dence in his ministerial principles and practice, may be found in the fact, that, at the annual commencement of Trinity College, the hon- orary degree of doctor of divinity was conferred upon him. He was unavoidably prevented from attending on this occasion ; and to show how wholly this honor was unexpected, and how it was received by him, it is only necessary to cite the language of a pri- vate letter to his father, August 9 : " Brother was here on Friday, and left his card for the Rev. Dr. Croswell, but it was not until some hours afterwards that I waked up to the consciousness of the very unexpected accident that had befallen me at the com- mencement of Trinity College. I regard it as a result towards which our good bishop's pastoral has been mainly instrumental ; and I know not whether I ought to ask for condolence as much as con- gratulation. I need not say that I have not been emulous of dis- tinction of this sort ; and I must be both older and wiser than I had thought, if it be not both undeserved and premature. I feel quite sure that it will be regarded by contemporaries as the consequence of undue favoritism, and make my seniors jealous. I have ever wondered that men should be anxious to win that which is so certain to work their disparagement on the part of their fellows. There are but few figurative crowns, even, that are not crowns of thorns. Per contra, and notwithstanding, — so far as the honor is an unsought and undreamed-of token of confidence in my clerical fidelity to the old landmarks, at a time when so much effort has been made to throw distrust and suspicion upon my course, — I frankly confess 388 IMEISIOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. that I do most highly value these honors, and doubt not that many fi'iends, as they do here, will share in my gratification." The next phase in the bishop's hostile policy is developed in the following correspondence, which is given entire : — Correspondence on Confirmation. To THE Right Reverend Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts. Right Reverend Sir : I beg leave respectfidly to represent that there are several persons in my parish who have been for some time ready and desirous to be confirmed. By making an appointment at your own convenience (the canonical notice being given) to visit our chapel and administer that apostohc rite, you will greatly oblige Yours, faithfully in all duty, W. CROSWELL. Rector of the Church of the Advent. Boston, November 23, 1846. II. Tremont Street, November 24, 1846. Reverend and dear Sir: I received, yesterday, yours of that date, requesting me to visit the place of worship of your parish, for the purpose of administering the rite of confirmation. I can assure you of the great pleasure it gives me to learn from you that there are those in your congregation who are desirous of ratifying their vows to God in that solemn ordinance, and of my entire readiness to gratify your wishes in reference to them, if the way can be prepared for my doing so consistently with what I feel to be my own duty. But, before making any appointment, I feel it right to learn from you whether such an alteration will be previously made of the arrangements of the chapel, and of the mode of con- ducting divine service there, as shall be conformable to the prevalent usage of our Church during past years. I indulge the persuasion that you and your vestry will see the propriety of according to my wishes in this respect; and will add, that if you should think a friendly conference between us on the subject to be desirable, the wish will be cordially responded to by myself. In the event of no sucli alteration being made, I must decline, though with great pain, visiting your chapel for the performance of the interesting service which you request. As I feel it to be right, however, that those members of your parish to whom you refer should not, on this account, be deprived of a privilege to which they 1846.] CHUKCH OF THE ADVENT. 389 are entitled, I shall be ready to notify you of the time and place (the latter to be, of course, one of the churches in Boston) at which I will administer to them the laying on of hands, as soon as you shall have informed me that the candidates will be ready thus to meet me for the purpose. I am very truly yours, MANTON EASTBURN The Rev. Dr. Ckoswell. ni. BSsTOX, November 28, 1846. Right Reverend and dear Sir : I have to acknowledge the promptness and courtesy of your reply to my request respecting your visit to our place of worship for the purpose of administering confirmation, and to express my regret that there should be any obstacle in your own mind in the way of your making an appoint- ment for that purpose. I am under necessity, in advance, of troubling you for a word of explanation. On showing your letter to one of our vestrymen, he expressed his decided conviction that the alterations which you desire to have previously made were with reference merely to the occasion of your visit ; while to another it is equally clear that a pledge to adhere permanently to certain prescribed changes is the condition on which the appointment is to be made. This difference of opinion has created a doubt in my own mind which might not otherwise have existed, and of which I respectfully ask of you the so- lution, in order that we may proceed in this matter understandingly. Very truly, your servant and presbyter, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Dr. E-istbukn. IV. Tremont Steeet, November 30, 1846. Reverend and dear Sir : Yours of the 28th instant has been received ; in reply to which I would say, that my meaning in the communication sent to you was that of a permanent alteration. I am, very truly, yours, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. William Ckoswell, D. D. V. Boston, December 8, 1846. Right Reverend and dear Sir : I was truly concerned to find, by your note of explanation of the 30th ultimo, that a compliance with 390 MEMOIR OF ^VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. your own prefei-ences, as to modes of worship on the occasion of administering confirmation at our chapel, would fall far short of satisfying your demands. It had been the unanimous understanding between the vestry and myself, that the arrangements of the chancel, and the method of celebrating divine service, should on that occasion be entirely at your own disposition, and we were prepared to take your own directions with regard to them. Thus much we were willing to concede, for the sake of peace, and from an anxiety to avoid the appearance of compelling you to any thing like a compro- mise of your opinions, or that might seem to betray a disregard of your feelings. At the same time, it is due to ourselves to say that we feel even such a requirement, under the circumstances, to be a dangerous precedent, and not therefore to be yielded as a matter of right, but simply with a view to prepare the way for the administra- tion of that solemn ordinance " consistently with what you feel to be your own duty." After maturely weighing your letter with this explanation, I now understand you distinctly to require nothing less than this — as a condition absolute and precedent to the discharge of episcopal offices in our church, viz., an assurance or pledge that certain changes sliall be made in our arrangements and mode of conducting divine service ; and that these alterations shall be permanent and continuous. Now, I fully admit that there may be departures, not from the written law of the Church only, but from a recognized and legiti- mate usage, of such a character as to warrant a bishop in refusing to perform episcopal offices in a church where they exist. Yet I do, with all solejnnity, protest against this ground being taken with reference to things not required by the Church, about which there is admitted doubt, and a recognized diversity of practice and opinion in the Church. To use a sort of interdict in order to compel con- formity to each bishop's private tastes, preferences, and opinions, I cannot but feel to be a violation of the rights of presbyters and parishes. It is not possible that such a claim should be submitted to and carried out, — and even if it were, though I do not mention it as a reason, yet it deserves to be considered, — however it might seem to create greater uniformity within each diocese for a time, it would certainly result in a more marked difference between differ- ent dioceses, and in the same diocese, under different bishops. I have had much opportunity, during the last year, carefully, and I may say daily, to consider our arrangements and mode of wor- ship, and have been confirmed in all my previous impressions with regard to their consistency with the rubric, as expounded by the best ritualists, and as to their salutary tendency in preserving in my own mind, and that of my fellow-worshippers, the reverence which is due in divine ministrations. It is freelv conceded that there are 1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 391 points in which they difter from those that obtain in the church of which you are rector, and from those which generally prevail at present in this neighborhood. At the same time, it cannot be denied that these very usages have not only been followed without objec- tion in other portions of the Church, but have received the sanction of the highest authorities. And even in this neighborhood, as the oldest rector in this city, I have lived to see various diversities of practice, and many considerable changes in the arrangements of chancels ; and it would be easy to enumerate particulars in which they difter on points where the Church has given no discretion. In none of these things, I am satisfied, has the parish of the Advent gone beyond the latitude which the Church allows, or offended against either the letter or the spirit of its rules, or violated its decent or seemly order, or afforded a bishop any warrant for depriv- ing us of the episcopal visitation and oftlces which are secured to us by the canons. Another obvious difficulty is suggested by your requirement of a personal promise or pledge to pursue a certain course, and this, too, not for a special occasion, but unlimited in its terms. When I was admitted to the holy order of deacons, first, and then of the priest- hood, in addition to the solemn vows of ordination, I signed a decla- ration, in which I engaged " to conform to the doctrine and imrship of tJie Protcstnnt Episcopal Church in the United States." These obliga- tions rest upon me with all their weight at this moment ; and for any offences in violation of them, I am liable to canonical proceedings. I have reason to object to giving any pledges beyond these ; and over and above the duties put upon me by the Church, I regard the enacting of such pledges as a dangerous precedent — especially when required, as it is here, under the penalty of cutting off" from important privileges. If I remember Bishop White's commentary aright, the standard by which the bishop's " godly admonitions " are to be directed, are the various established institutions of the Church, and not his private opinion. " The Church," says he, " is under a government of laio, and not of will." If the assurance which you require relates to the established institutions of the Church, then it is superfluous ; if, as in this case, it is for something beyond those, and for the purpose of securing conformity to private opinion, or lo- cal practice, on points upon which there are diversities of opinion and practice in the Church, then the requirement, under the penalty which you have affixed to it, is one in which I am unwilling to in- volve myself; and the claim of a right thus to demand it, I feel bound, on general principles, to withstand. As a personal matter, it may not be improper for me to allude to the peculiarity of my position, in being called upon privately to abandon observances for which I have been, in the most public manner, censured by yourself, and which you have held up to the world as perilous aild degrading; 392 MEMOIR OF \\TLLIAM CROSWELL. [1846. since tlie relinquishment of them, under such circumstances, could hardly fail to be regarded as an admission of the character imputed to them, if not also of the legality of that act of censure. It has occurred to me that you may possibly be under mistake as to what is actually done at our chapel. We know that there have been false representations, and are still, to some extent, false im- pressions, abroad on the subject ; and it has always seemed to me that your circular indicated a wrong conception of our usages. Yet our worship is public and daily, and nothing is concealed. I would call your attention to my letter of December 6, 1845, and to the re- solves of tlie wardens and vestry which accompany it, as containing a full and fair statement of our arrangements apd mode of conduct- ing divine service. If you have supposed that any thing else is done by us than is stated in those documents, we shall be happy to cor- rect your impressions, or to conununicate any more particular infor- mation which you may desire. But while I acknowledge your offer of a personal conference, yet, after what has taken place, and in con- sideration of the importance of the subject, I think you will agree with me, that whatever may pass between us should not be left to depend upon the recollection of conversations ; a state of things which is always embarrassing to the parties, and especially so after any considerable lapse of time. If, on a full consideration of the case, you adhere to your deter- mination to refuse a visitation, I have no other alternative, consistent with a due regard to those of my flock who would otherwise be deprived of privileges to which they are entitled, but to submit. Though I am well persuaded of their readiness to meet their bishop wherever he may appoint, it will occur to you that there may be strong preferences as to place. If they are not to receive confirmation in the place where they have received their deepest religious impressions and been knit together in one, and at the foot of the holy altar wliere some of them have already made, and all hope to make, their first communion, I trust it will seem but reasonable to request that they will not be required to attend at the church of any of my junior presbyters. In a word, if the bishop refuses to come to us, we hope, at least, to be permitted to come to the bishop in his own cathedral church. Considering also the age and circumstances of some of the candidates, I would further ask, that it may take place on the Lord's day, and at tlie usual hour of morning or evening ser- vice. On any Sunday after the Epiphany which you may appoint, I will endeavor, the Lord being my helper, to be prepared to pre- sent myself with such as he shall have given me. I remain, right reverend and dear sir. Yours, in the holy office of priesthood, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Canton Eastbukn, D. D., Bisliop, &c. 1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 393 VI. Boston, December 12, 1846. Reverend and dear Sir : I write this to inform you tliat I shall hold a confirmation in Trinity Church, in this city, on the morning of the second Sunday after Epiphany, January 17, 1847, at which time it will give me pleasure to administer the rite to such as you shall present to me. The service will commence at the usual hour of quarter past ten. In the mean time, I am very sincerely yours, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. W. Ckoswell, D. D. During the progress of this correspondence with his bishop, he expresses, in his letters to his father, a great desire to " avoid^ the necessity of reviving the old controversy." But, without " forgetting what is due to the diocesan," he is still resolved to put the whole matter upon a right footing. His last letter to the bishop was di-awn up with deliberation and care, " I am desirous," he says, " to give it as much of completeness as the importance of the subject deserves. I do not count upon its making any impression upon him. I am satisfied that all argument is lost upon his mind, when his will is in the way ; but a great principle is at stake, and one in which the whole Church is interested, viz., whether the threat of cutting off from canonical privileges may be lawfully used to compel conformity to a bishop's private tastes, preferences, and opinions. I hope these unpleasant discussions will not be allowed to divert our thoughts and hearts, at this season, from more important subjects. Our services are as much crowded as ever, and seem to awaken a hopeful degree of interest in those who attend them. The animation of our wor- ship is truly inspiring, and I am sure it would do your spirit good to be sustained with so hearty a response as we have had to-day." On finally acceding to the bishop's ultimatum, he gives as a reason, " After making due protest against what I regarded as a dangerous precedent, I thought it would be better not to encourage a standing out against his appointment to meet us elsewhere. Indeed, consist- ently with a regard to the welfare of my flock, who would thus be required to forego a privilege to which they were entitled, I did not see my way clear to do so. Accordingly, I signified my willingness to avail myself of his alternative." He afterwards speaks of the civility of the vestry of Trinity Church, and the pewholders gener- ally, in tendering accommodations to the people of the Advent, on the occasion of their visit. " This .occasion," he says, " begins to be looked forward to with great interest, and will draw together a crowd. So that this thing will not be done in a corner." While his mind was thus heavily taxed with this unpleasant con- troversy, and while his pastoral cares and labors were exceedingly 50 394 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. pressiiiiT, lie had a domestic trial which caused him much anxiety. His little daughter, who had been slightly indisposed from time to time, now began to sufter from the incipient symptoms of a com- plaint, of the serious nature of which he was not fully aware, but which eventually caused her a long and distressing confinement. Of the result of this case, wliich proved more favorable than the family had been led to fear, it may be necessary to speak hereafter. The record of the eusuing year now presents itself. 1847. From the foregoing details, the reader is prepared, in some measure, for the opening incidents of the present year. These are related by the rector of the Advent with sufficient minuteness to show the true position of the parties. January 11, after apologizing for some delay in writing, he says, " Duties have come as thick and fast as the minutes. My time has been frittered away, not unprof- itably, as I hope, but still in a way of which I can give no very pre- cise account. The preparation of candidates for confirmation is always attended with a good deal of care, as frequent calls are ne- cessary, not only for the purpose of instruction, but to communicate the first idea often, to those you are addressing, that they, having ears to hear, are expected to hear. We have the additional obsta- cle to encounter from the course of the bishop, and the unwillingness which many have to receive confirmation at his hands. Some have already gone into other dioceses to avoid the necessity, and others will do the same. Still, I think, a considerable number will go to the house of God in company next Sunday morning, and count, at least, upon about twenty — all adults, and about half of them gen- tlemen. The wardens of Trinity Church have reserved pews for our accommodation, and we shall be attended probably by a large body of our parishioners. It will be a spectacle of much interest, and I have no doubt that the church will be crowded. I shall give you an account of it as soon as it is fairly over." Accordingly, on the 18th he writes, " Yesterday was clear and bright, and was very favorable for our solemnities. Our candidates met by appointment at our chapel. Eighteen were present. I had counted upon more ; but sickness prevented in one instance, and other reasons in more. Had the ordinance been administered in our own place, and under ordinary circumstances, the number would have been nearly doubled. As it was, there was something remarkably interesting in the char- acter of the company presented. There were no mere children. 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 395 All were mature and full grown, of difterent ages and stations in life — young men in their prime, aged, rich, and poor — the latter intel- ligent and respectable in their appearance. We provided a carriage for the invalids, — the rest proceeded on foot, — a large body of the parishioners accompanied us. Eligible seats were provided for the candidates near the chancel on our arrival. The bishop sent for me to the vestry room, and invited me to read the epistle in the ante- communion service, and take a seat in the cliancel.. I did not hesi- tate to accept the invitation. The church was full. The bishop preached, and the confirmation followed. There were but six can- didates from Trinity Church, making just enough in all to fill the rails once, without crowding or confusion. I presume a service of more intense interest never was transacted within those walls. The bishop's address was quite unexceptionable. I was under much emotion at times, though controlled within proper bounds. The bishop betrayed none. . . . When I went to the vestry, I told him 1 was obliged to him ; and added, with some agitation, that I could not have desired any thing to have been dift'erent in his address. He said, with a hard and stereotyped way, that the service was sol- emn, and he hoped that a blessing would attend it. And so we parted, with a strong hope on my part that I should soon be enabled to come with a younger train." Buoyed up by this hope, and encouraged by the flattering pros- pects of his parish, he pursued his course steadily and diligently ; al- lowing himself, by way of relaxation, but a few weeks during the whole year, which were spent in short visits and excursions. Owing to the occasional sickness and absence of his assistant, the chief burden of the weekly and daily services devolved upon him, except when relieved by the generous and voluntary aid of Dr. Eaton and other visiting brethren. His health suffered, at times, from excessive duty and exposure ; and in addition to this, a sad drawback to his enjoyment was experienced in the long-protracted and dangerous illness of his little daughter. She began, early in the spring, to have alarming symptoms of disease. The origui of her complaint was somewhat obscure, and its progress slow. But it resulted in lumbar abscess, and subjected her to a tedious confinement, in a recumbent or rechning position, for several months. During the heat of the summer, she was removed, by the recommendation of her physician, and' at the kind solicitation of a most excellent friend, Mrs. Carpen- ter, to her residence at Lee Vale, a delightfid, quiet, and retired place in Cambridge. Here, besides the best of medical attendance, she had every possible care, attention, and indulgence that the most devoted friendship and i)arental affection could bestow. In the lat- ter part of .Tuly, to the great relief of her anxious friends, her com- plaint came to a favorable crisis. She passed through it safely, and was eventually restored to health. His letters during this severe vis- 396 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. itation are marked with his usual tenderness of feehng, mingled with the most unreserved submission to the will of God ; and when the danger was past, he opened the deep fountains of his heart in the most affecting strains of praise and thanksgiving. During the pendency of this trial, and amid the great labor and care which came upon him in the due order of his public services, his mind was very much absorbed by another object. The hall in Lowell Street, though fitted up in a neat and commodious manner, was too much exposed to noise and interruption during the week- day services, and also proved to be too small to meet the increasing demand for sittings. A movement was therefore made, early in the year, for procuring a permanent house of worship for the use of the parish ; and a fund was commenced for the purpose by many liberal subscriptions. February 15, he says, " Our affairs look very prom- isingly ; our subscription papers are filling up apace; and we can almost see our church rising, as if by magic, and like the temple of old, without the sound of axes and hammers." But these anticipa- tions were not fulfilled precisely to the letter. To raise the neces- sary funds, to select a suitable site, and to erect a new church, would necessarily consume too much time. Hence it was deemed advisable to procure, with as little delay as possible, a more capa- cious and convenient place of worship. And to this object the at- tention of the rector and the corporation of his church was imme- diately directed. After much inquiry and examination, the effort resulted in the purchase, at a cost of twenty-five thousand dollars, of a plain and substantial building, in an eligible situation on Green Street, originally erected by a Congregational society, under the pas- toral care of the Rev. Dr. .Tenks. This building was remodelled, and adapted to the worship of the Church, and was first occupied as a regular house of prayer by the parish on the first Sunday in Advent. As there will be occasion to speak more at large of this building and its ecclesiastical arrangement before the record of this year is closed, the subject is dropped for the present, for the pur- pose of touching upon other topics alluded to in his current cor- respondence. The feast of St. Paul's having passed, he recurs to it in his cus- tomary strain of solemn contemplation, coupling his reflections with a passing tribute to one of his early friends and classmates, Isaac H. TowNSEND, Esq., of whose death he had recently been informed : " I kept St. Paul's day as of old, and recalled its return in other years ; and I thought of those who had gone since I wrote ' The Ordinal.' How swift the lapse of time ! How true to experience the similes of the inspired book ! It has made me sad to thijik of Townsend's premature death, humanly speaking. I remember the fresh and eager look of his boyhood when we sat at the feet of the same teacher, and he was foremost of all his peers. In college, he 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 3g7 distanced us all. His legal studies were conducted in the same spirit. In his determined purpose of accjuiring all mysteries and all knowledge, he seemed to sacrifice everything else — to hold himself aloof from the lies of domestic life, lest they should interfere with his intellectual progress ; and 1 fear he has paid the fearful forfeit in taxing his mental powers beyond their natural strength. For some time, the energies of his mind, I have been told, have been failing ; and if he was conscious of it, I do not doubt that it has hastened the catastrophe. I was never intimate with him. We had but few sympathies together, and but little in common. Still I respected him, and appreciated his acquirements. I hope the pearl of great price was among them, and that he had treasure laid up in heaven ; for if not, the richest of our race are poor indeed. The stars * are thickening on our college roll. Types of their place, perhaps, in other spheres, And warning signs to bid thee, O my soul, Prepare to join the friends of happier years." Writing to his father, Monday before Easter, he says, " I have a summons to be present at the examination of Trinity College, com- mencing on Tuesday of Easter week, as chairman of the committee of the Fellows. The call is imperative, and I must obey, unless some- thing providential here should make my remaining still more indis- pensable. ... It will not be a very satisfactory recreation for the Easter holidays, cooped up in a college recitation room for two days ; but laurels are not to be won without a sacrifice." He pro- ceeds, " Our services are intensely interesting as we draw nearer and qearer to the cross. Yesterday was so fine a day that the church was full. To-day we have services morning and evening, and the same all the days of the week." In obedience to the summons from the college, he proceeded to Hartford on Easter Monday, April 5 ; and after attending to the duties there, he made a short visit to New Haven, and returned to Boston on the 16th. He found his assistant sick, and his own la- bors were consequently so much the more abundant. His letters, therefore, at this time, though despatched weekly, were more brief than usual, and afford only here and there a passage for selection. On Monday in Whitsun week he writes, " Pentecost is in char- acter — the elements genial and inspiring — and the tender green of the young leaves shows that the soul of universal nature is at last stirred. We were with one accord, in one place, seeking the grace promised to divine unity in the communion of the Holy Ghost, the Comforter ; • and not, we hope, in vain." * In the college catalogues, a star or asterisk placed against the name of a graduate denotes his decease. 398 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^rELL. [1847. For the sketch which follows, no apology is necessary. It serves to illustrate the policy of the bishop, in giving countenance, in one case, to the very same chancel arrangements which he made the ground of ecclesiastical censure in the Church of the Advent. " Last night, the bishop administered confirmation at St. Stephen's, for the second time this season, to about thirteen or fourteen persons. His address was more parental and affectionate than ever I heard from him before ; and I hear of no exceptions taken to the arrangements of the chancel. And this is most remarkable ; because, wherein our own were open to exception, St. Stephen's goes far beyond us. High up, on the ledge of the wainscotting, over the altar, and just beneath the window, was a row of burning candles, — the candle- sticks could not be seen, — disclosing a large wooden cross in the window. On the altar itself were two silver candlesticks, of three branches each. A large cross in the middle aisle bore aloft similar candlesticks on the arms and on the head ; and another row along the singers' gallery constituted the source of all the material illu- mination which the place had." From this time until the autumn, with the exception of a short visit from his father, very few incidents occurred to break in upon the round of cares and duties already alluded to. But in the month of September he was induced, by the urgent solicitations of two of his young friends and fellow-townsmen, Henry Edwards and Oliver S. Prescott, to visit New Haven and preach a sermon, on the occasion of their admission to the order of deacons. He had consented to this arrangement with much reluctance, on account of his want of time to make the necessary preparation. " I will endeavor," he says, " not to fail you, and hope that I shall not dis- appoint reasonable expectation. I can give but little thought to,any thing beyond what presses upon me weekly." The ordination took place on the 16th of September, and all the services, not excepting the sermon, passed oft' to the mutual satisfaction of all parties. His next absence from home was on a short excursion with his friend Dr. Shattuck, of which he gives the following sketch in a letter of October 12, addressed to his mother, while his father was attending a session of the General Convention : " I returned this morning from a week's excursion to Troy, Albany, West Point, and New York. . . . Nothing could exceed the gratification afforded by our visit to our friends at Troy and Albany. The little Church of the Holy Cross at the former place, with its daily services and choir of charity children, — its architectural beauty, reminding one of what he has supposed to be furnished by some of the academical chapels of Oxford and Cambridge, — is truly a study for a devout pilgrim of the cross. ... A cordial reception awaited us also at Albany. . . . On Thursday afternoon of last week, we arrived at West Point. . . . We did not see much of the 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 399 military ; but we saw what we came to see, and what we vahied more ; for our pilgrimage has been an ecclesiastical one. The scenery is beyond my power to convey an impression of; and we agreed that Dr. Syntax, in search of the picturesque, might, in this respect, have envied us. What most interested us was the little chapel of the Holy Innocents. It was in a secluded spot, a mile or more below the Point, between the mountains and the river, and in the best taste. Mr. Weir, the artist, not only designed it, but it has been executed more at his expense than that of any other per- son. When we know that he is dependent on his art for support, and that he has a family of nine children, his self-sacrifice and unselfishness in this matter is the more exemplary. The morning and evening service is daily celebrated, and we joined in the sacri- fice. We Iiad the pleasure of seeing Mr. Weir and other excel- lent catholic spirits. We spent a memorable hour with Mr. Weir in his studio, and he showed us some sketches for paintings, which gladdened our eyes and hearts." On tlie feast of AH Saints, November 1, after congratulating his father on his return from the General Convention, he notes a few particulars in relation to the building which had been purchased as their future place of worship. " We are slowly completing our alterations of the Green Street meeting house into something that shall be all-glorious within. I think, however, that it will be the divine service chiefly that will make it so. The basement is very large, and will afford fine accommodations for our Sunday school. There will also be a large robing room and vestry below. The principal audience room will have a spacious and com- modious chancel, and a rather high altar. The pew doors have been taken off", and there is abundant room to kneel. There seems but little remaining to be done ; but the days are short, and it may be that we shall not be ready to commence our services there till Advent Sunday." Speaking subsequently of the slow progress of these alterations, he says, " But what they accom- plish is very satisfactory ; and I think we shall have as church-like arrangements of the altar and furniture as are to be found in the city ; though this is not saying much. There will be a hundred pews, or rather open seats, on the floor; for we have discarded the doors, and cut down the ends to a scroll elbow piece — a vast improvement in the appearance of the building, and settling an important principle. How strange the spectacle would be in our eyes, if we were not accustomed to it — this buttoning in of families on the floor of the sacred edifice, each in their separate pens ! . . . Since these repairs have been going on, I have dwelt, as it were, in the house of the Lord, when I could be spared ; and shall spend much more time there when all is completed ; and hope 400 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOS WELL. [1847. to find, as indeed I have ever done, that one day in His courts is better than a thousand." Writing on his forty-third birthday, he began to morahze on the occasion ; but being interrupted, he says, on again taking up his pen, " I will not resume the attempt to sermonize. Suffice it to say, that I adore the goodness and mercy that have followed me all the days of my life thus far, and so abundantly blessed our domestic relations to our mutual comfort. May God long spare each mem- ber of tlie family to be a comfort to the rest ; and, after a short separation, may it please him to hasten the number of his elect, and unite us forever in his heavenly kingdom, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen ! " The following characteristic passage is from the same letter : " I was at the laying of the corner stone of the Church of the INIessiah yesterday. I endeavor to unite with the brethren, whether they will unite with me or not. Brother Randall's address was very good ; and at the aspiration at the close, I audibly responded, ' Amen.' I took his hand afterwards, for his faithful testimony, and hoped that they would bring forth the top stone with shoutings. I do not envy him his building when completed, in comparison with ours ; and I forgive him that I could not draw from him a word of con- gratulation in return for mine." November 14, he speaks of his desire " to make out, if possible, a genealogical table of the Crosvvell family before all are gone who can assist in developing it. I think the memoirs of the family, in all its branches, would be rich in curious anecdote — the eastern hardly less so than the western. Without an exception, whatever their parts, none of the name have ever accumulated any great wealth, though many of them have come very near it. I am inclined to think, however, that many of them have been rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom." November 22, he writes, " We had our last communion and Sun- day services at the chapel in Lowell Street yesterday, and they were of solemn interest — both the curate and myself preacliing appropriate sermons." The opening of the new place of worship in Green Street was an event of deep interest to the parish as well as the rector, and the fulfilment of many pleasing anticipations. From his own pen, how- ever, there is but a brief sketch of the event itself, and this is found in a diary, entitled " Words of Days : a record of the daily minis- trations of the offices and ordinances of the Church at the Church of the Advent, in Green Street, from the time of its reopening as a place of Episcopal worship, on Advent Sunday, November 28, 1847." But a more particular accouiit is copied from one of the religious periodicals of the day : — 1847.] CHUECH OF THE AD^TINT. 401 " Church of the Advent. The first service of the parish of the Advent, Boston, in their new place of worship, was held on Sunday, the 28th of Novemher. The chapel was previously occu- pied hy a Congregational society, and has been fitted up in a man- ner suitable for the worship of our church. The pew doors have all been taken off, and every seat is free. The chancel is spacious, with only the altar within the rail, and a lectern and seats for the clergy without the rail. Above and behind the altar are four tablets, for the creed, Lord's prayer, and sacraments, and a simple cross, over which are the words, Lo, I come ! particularly significant of that event, to the commemoration of which, as past, and the prepara- tion for which, as to come, the church is specially consecrated. The Rev. Drs. Croswell and Eaton, and Rev. Mr. Pollard, officiated ; the communion service was performed, and Dr. Croswell preached a highly interesting sermon. The congregation was very large, and the prospects of the parish are quite encouraging. It is a singular coincidence, that tliis parish, which took its name without reference to the time of its organization, should have had its first public ser- vice, its first service and sermon by its first and only rector, and its first service in its new place of worship, each on Advent Sun- day." — Churchman. Among the pleasing incidents connected with the transfer of the Green Street Meeting House to the parish of the Advent, was the receipt of the following communication from the Rev. Dr. Jenks, in answer apparently to a note inviting him to attend the services of the Church on Advent Sunday : — 1 Crescent Place, Novemher 26, 184-7. Reverend and dear Sir : Accept my sincere thanks for the very kind invitation you have so obligingly sent me. I could not peruse your note without emotion. And I rejoice that the house in which I have so long officiated in the gospel will still resound with the preaching of " Christ crucified " for the sins of men. This satisfaction is much enhanced, when I contemplate the dan- ger there was, lest a company, formed for the purpose, should have succeeded in obtaining the house in order to erect a theitre on its site. This would have been a " grief of heart " to me. I had made my arrangement with my reverend brother Blagden some time before the reception of your note ; and shall expect to attend statedly, (when abroad,) at the Old South, where I am engaged to preach on Lord's day morning next. But this does not lessen my obligation for the kindness of your friendly ofi'er. Among the most painful things attending the scattering and dis- solution of the late church and religious society in Green Street, the dispersion of the flourishing Sabbath school was, perhaps, the greatest. 51 402 MEMOIR OF ^VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. It is pleasant to me to reflect that the room it occupied will be reopened, and sacred instruction be still given to the young. That it may please the great Head of the Church to make your ministry long and greatly successful, and that he may enable you not only to " save yourself," but also " them that hear you," is the desire and prayer of, reverend and dear sir. Yours in the gospel of Christ, WILLIAM JENKS. Rev. Dr. Croswell. But while the affairs of the Advent were thus prosperous, the rector and his people were soon taught to feel that the " tyranny " of the bishop's course was by no means " overpast," although it assumed, in some respects, a new or modified form. The rector, writing to his father November 22, says, " Last week, five of the clergy, Messrs. Vinton, Clark, Mason, Woart, and Randall, called, in a body, first at our house, and then at the church ; but not finding me at either place, they left without mentioning their errand. The next evening they called again, and I gave them a cordial reception. They professed to have the best intentions, and a beai'ty desire for unity and a restoration of clerical intercourse. This feeling, of course, was reciprocated. They had been first to the bishop, to see on what terms he would consent to bury the hatchet. They had had difficulty in inducing him to concede any thing. But he had finally concluded to waive his objections to every thing, pro- vided I would pray towards the people. I had rather a free talk with them — not unpleasant on either side, and not compromising, you may be sure, on mine. It ended with the assurance that I would give the subject a deliberate consideration, and inform them of the result. A meeting of the clergy, the beginning of a sort of city convocation, is to be held this evening at Dr. Vinton's. Instead of attending, I purpose to send the following note : " — BosTox, November 22, 1847. To Dr. Vinton, &c. Dear Brethren : I have again to thank you for your kind efforts to mediate between the bishop of the diocese and myself, with regard to the posture observed in divine worship at the Church of the Advent. I have carefully reviewed the whole subject more than once, and have uniformly returned to the conclusions which are con- tained in a correspondence between the bishop and myself, nearly a year since. I beg leave to submit a copy of that correspondence to your candid perusal, and should have no objections, for my own part, to its being pubUshed, if it should be thought advisable. It should be understood, that conformity to our usage, in the particular to which you refer, has never been required as a condition of clerical 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 403 exchange with my brethren, and that a kneeling stool will be pro- vided for the use of those who may prefer, for any reason, to kneel at the lectern. Very sincerely, your obedient servant, W. CROSWELL. P. S. There are considerations of a delicate nature, which I will mention when we meet, that prevent me from joining the brethren at your house this evening. This was followed by a letter from the bishop : — Tremont Street, November 24, 1847. Reverend and dear Sir : I have learned, with great satisfaction, that several of the parochial clergy of the city, with a view of pro- moting brotherly unity and friendly clerical interchange between yourself and them, have represented to you their wish that you would so far conform to prevaihng usage, in your mode of conduct- ing divine service in your church, that so desirable an end might be accomplished. I now beg to express to you once more my own strong desire on the same subject ; and, as you are on the eve of taking possession of a new place of worship, I have thought the present a favorable opportunity for thus afresh declaring to you my wishes. There are several particulars in which a return by you to the usages of your brethren is desired by me — such as the wearing of the gown, instead of the surplice, in preaching ; the reading of the morning and evening prayer from a reading desk ; and the use of a pulpit for preaching, and the regular use of the hietrical psalms and hymns. On these, however, 1 will not insist ; and the utmost that I now ask you to do in this matter is, either that, if the prayers should be read from a reading desk, you will kneel at it, according to the prevailing custom, with your face towards the people ; or that, if the prayers be read at the communion table, you will see that it be so placed that both you and the other clergymen officiat- ing can stand or kneel without inconvenience at the end of it, and close by it, in the usual way, instead of being at a distance from it, either at the end or in front. I take this opportunity of saying, though I can scarcely think it necessary, that, in all my past measures connected with this unpleas- ant subject, I have been influenced by no considerations of personal unkindness to you. The friendly intercourse which had previously subsisted between you and your family and myself, after your removal from western New York to this city, forbids this supposition. My motives, in what I have done, have been those of official duty exclusively ; and, under the influence of the same motives, I now 404 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. most earnestly call upon you, as your diocesan, at least to make the change above referred to, and no longer to persevere in a course so at variance with the customs which, from the first estab- lishment of oar Church, have prevailed in our places of worship, both in this and other dioceses. T am, reverend and dear sir. Your faithful brother, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. W. Croswell, D. D. He could not but look upon the introductory part of this letter as "rather cool — the object of the clerical delegation being, as was expressly stated by them, to mediate between the bishop of the dio- cese and myself." He was too much occupied at the moment to return a full answer ; and therefore sent, by way of explanation, the following hasty note : — Crescent Place, November 27, 1847. Right reverend and dear Sir: I write this brief note to say that your favor of the 24th was put into my hands the next day ; but that, owing to the very pressing nature of my engagements in prej^aring for the opening of our new place of worship on Advent Sunday, I am not able, this week, as I could have desired, to do more than to acknowledge the receipt. In great haste, very truly, Your friend and servant, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Dr. Eastburn. From various causes of delay, the full answer was not forwarded to the bishop until the 30th of December. In the mean time, he kept his father advised of every proceeding, and often received a free expression of his opinion on the several points involved in the dis- cussion. But a single extract is made from a letter to his father, December 6 : " Touching the postures, I agree with you entirely. The arrangements being mainly like those at the Church of the Holy Communion, (New York,) we kneel at an angle of forty-five towards the end of the altar, exhibiting the profile to most of the congregation. . . . Dr. Boyle was with us on Sunday, and commended our manner of exhibiting the service, as not only unex- ceptionable, but exemplary, and said that it came nearer than any other to the interior of the oldest church in Christendom, St. Clements of Rome, built in the fourth century, with a simple altar, and without that invention of a late Papal age called a pulpit — a word, he said, originally applied to the rostrum from which the mountebanks exhibited their antics. 'A use not so foreign,' said 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 405 the doctor, ' from that to which they are now sometimes devoted.' It is somewhat remarkahle, not to say providential, that the oldest and most venerable presbyter in the diocese, good Dr. Eaton, is constantly present and assisting in our daily and weekly services." Nothing now remains to complete the record of the year hut liis letter to Bishop Eastburn. Boston, December 30, 1847. Right reverend and dear Sir : I have thought it due to your office and character that a letter of so much importance as yours of the 24th ultimo should receive the most mature deliberation. Hence the delay in returning an answer ; though I cannot say that I have, from the first, felt much hesitation as to the course which I ought to pursue. My impressions differ considerably from your own with regard to the design and intention of the call of several of the parochial clergy of the city, to whom you allude as interested in promoting brotherly unity. These respected brethren, with a view to the res- toration of happier relations between yourself and the Church of the Advent, had kindly volunteered, as I understand it, to act in the capacity of mediators. To this end, according to my recollections, they had first called upon you, to ascertain precisely what terms of promised conformity they were to be allowed to propose as a con- dition of the performance of episcopal acts in our church, and, of course, were to acquaint you with the result of their interview with me. I gratefully appreciated such services as these at their hands, as neither unworthy of them nor myself; and, at their re- quest, I carefully reviewed the whole subject. Several days before the receipt of your letter, I informed them that I had done so, more than once, and that I had also uniformly returned to the same conclusion which I had already communicated to you in a corre- spondence with regard to confirmation, about a year since, and for the same reasons. As they did not appear to have been made ac- quainted with that correspondence and its bearing on our present unfortunate relations, I submitted a copy to their candid perusal. And I would now beg leave to call your own attention to it again, as bringing to view some momentous principles which are involved in this matter, as it has been regarded by me, and a recollection of which is necessary to a proper understanding of our relative rights and duties. If these were as clearly expressed as I suppose, in my letter of December 8, 1846, they were perhaps unconsciously over- looked by you at the time, or have been forgotten, or lost sight of, since. Certain it is, at least, that you have not, to my knowledge, taken any notice of them. I further apprised the bretln-en that waited on me, that, however well satisfied of the correctness and suitableness of our usages, I had never assumed to require con- 40G MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. formity to them as a condition of clerical exchange ; and that a kneeling stool, moreover, would be provided for those who, for any cause, should prefer to kneel at the lectern. In this connection, I cannot but regard it as remarkable, that many other of the breth- ren of the city and neighborhood, as well as of the Church at large, and who had been much more familiar with our mode of w orship than some of the brethren who waited upon me, have repeatedly officiated at our chapel, and have had no difficulty in accommodating themselves to our usages. I think it right to state, that the three senior presbyters of the diocese, veterans in the service of the Church, are among the number who have expressed great satisfac- tion in our services, and have regarded our arrangements as unex- ceptionable ; and I must be allowed to add, with undisguised gi'ati- fication, that one of these, the eldest and most venerable of all your presbyters, whose irreprovable ministry covers more years than 1 have lived, has been in the habit of assisting at our daily and weekly service, and authorizes me to say, that he is ready to bear his testi- mony in favor of the tendency of our mode of ministration to high religious enjoyment and edification. If I am correct, as I believe, in the positions taken in the letter alluded to, of December 8, 1846, then I cannot perceive how they are affected, either by any thing that fell from my brethren (who had not seen that correspondence) at the time of our interview, or by your own letter of the 34th ultimo ; unless it be that certain things are now yielded as admissible which have heretofore been publicly set forth in terms tending, where I was not known, to bring my ministrations into contempt, as, " degrading," or, what is worse, into abhorrence, as " perilous to the souls of men." The remain- ing particular, in which conformity is yet insisted on, as the condi- tion of the performance of episcopal acts, stands, as it seems to me, upon the same footing with the rest. Nor do I perceive upon what notions, either of church law, of general propriety, or the furtherance of uniformity, it is more obligatory than the claim to enforce by authority the use of the collect and Lord's prayer be- fore sermon, the reverent bowing at the holy name of Jesus in the creed, or the exclusion of desks and pulpits from chancels. Yet in none of these points is there any such penalty imposed upon your clergy for a non-compliance with your wishes and preferences, how- ever earnestly expressed ; while among the clergy themselves, as is best known to those who have been longest among them, there is a conceded diversity of opinion and practice, and a mutual toleration of differences. Putting all previous acts out of the question, and supposing the case to stand solely upon your last letter of the 24th ultimo, I should certainly have been disposed, for the sake of peace, to yield all deference to your requests, whether official or otherwise, and with- 1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 407 out, perhaps, very carefully considering whether the compliance proceeded from a spirit of submission to ecclesiastical authority, or from mere good nature, or indifference, or sentiments of personal consideration. Even in this case, however, it could not witli con- sistency be admitted, for a moment, that the bishop's conscience and private opinion were to be regarded as the standard of clerical con- formity, or that compliance with his preferences was the condition on which his clergy and parishes were to be allowed the enjoyment of their chartered privileges. Canonical obedience to the diocesan, in our branch of the Church at least, has its limits, which, however they may seem to vary, as viewed by different minds, are intended, as the expression shows, to be distinctly defined by our standards. And one cannot help being struck with the strong and explicit terms in which those limits are jealously guarded in the pages of the only exposition of the canon law of our Church which has yet been pub- lished, and which in many quarters, at the present time, would be regarded as authoritative. Speaking of the supposition that the bishop is not to be restrained in the conscientious exercise of his official functions, this alble writer observes, " Now, on this subject, a very dangerous error seems to be gaining ground. The practice of early bishops is often refei'red to, under the imposing names of antiquity and primitive tisage, to sanction the acts of modern Epis- copacy. But it seems to be forgotten, that the usage of regulating the exercise of the bishop's functions by certain fixed rules is as ancient as the office of a bishop. There is as much of venerable antiquity in the custom of making latcs for bishops, as there is in making bishops tiiemselves. It may be safely affirmed, that, since the days of the apostles, they never were left with no guide but their own discretion. A law, indeed, cannot be made wholly to prevent a bishop from doing a bishop's appropriate duty ; but the history of the Church is full of legislation to regulate the mode in which he shall perform that duty." — The Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawks, on the Con- stitution and Canons. Canon xxvi. pp. 2.57-8. In accordance with what is here stated, surely the most dutiful presbyter would be justified in declining compliance with any re- quirement of his diocesan, which, according to his conscientious belief, was wrong and of dangerous precedent, and also of conse- quence enough to warrant him in bringing on himself and his Church the results ; or if there was a conviction that the manner of the requirement was illegal, and that the illegality was of the same consequence as in the preceding instance. The present case, however, it is unhappily not to be forgotten, does not stand upon your last letter of the •24th ultimo, nor is it to be regarded independently of previous episcopal acts. Even the apostle Paul, (Acts xvi. 37,) after he had been " beaten openly, un- condemned," at Philippi, was not willing to be " thrust out privily." 408 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847. In view of his ignominious treatment, witiiout a trial, without an opportunity to plead his privilege, or make his defence, he did not choose to go away, or abandon his ground, as Thomas Scott re- marks, " in an underhand manner, and with the imputation of hav- ing deserved such punishment, but he required to be honorably dis- charged." There may be cases, says the same homely but honest commentator, when it will be proper for the servants of Christ to claim the protection of the laws against oppression, not from vin- dictive feeling, but as being most conducive to public justice, the peace of the Church, and the credit of their profession. It is deeply to be regretted that you have connected my reputation with terms of the deepest reproach for the matters in question without any previous presentation or canonical proceedings against me for any offence whatever, without a trial, and uncondemned by any tribunal known to our system. Under these circumstances, it will be perceived why I cannot, with any show of reason or justice, at this late day, and as a mere matter of form, be expected " privily " to abandon my ground. I cannot tlius voluntarily subject myself to the imputation of having deserved that severe and open censure, never yet openly revoked, or expose myself to the construction of admitting a bishop's power virtually to inflict sentence of condem- nation on his clergy without a trial. Of such a course as this, at once " violating the established rights of the parochial clergy, and overturning a fixed principle of our ecclesiastical polity," the opinion of the distinguished canonist whom I have already quoted is strikingly full and forcible. " Now we say, that, under our system of govern- ment, a bishop has no right, directly or indirectly, to try a clergyman. It will be a sad day for the Church when the clergy, without the intervention of triers of their own order, may be tried and condemned by the bishop alone. The smallest approach to such an encroachment sliould be promptly resisted. It is of vast importance for the well being of the Church to preserve their just rights to that large body of real operatives, the parochial clergy. Power always passes, slowly and silently, and without much notice, from the hands of the many to the few, and all history shows that ecclesiastical domination grows up by little and little. Give to bish- ops a right, without a formal trial by their peers, virtually to condemn presbyters in one case, and it will surely come to pass that the day will be seen when precedent will be cited for it in all cases. . . . The overwhelming tyranny from which the reformation freed the Protestant Church grew up by this paulatim process." — The Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawks on the Constitution and Canons. (Canon xlii. pp. 364-5.) If there be aught of authority in this voice of eloquent warning, I cannot but think that it puts the question at issue be- tween us at rest. It will no longer seem strange that, as I did on a former occasion, so I do now, once more, respectfully decline 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 409 involving myself in any pledges beyond those of my ordination, and over and above the duties put upon me by the Church. It will also be perceived, that on the general principles for the sake of which I have suffered these last two years, and which I have more largely dwelt upon in our previous correspondence, I am solemnly l:)ound to withstand the right to demand them. I ought not to conclude without observing, that it was our en- deavor so to order our new place of worship that it might not be open to your former objections. That part of the cliancel within the rails of the altar is, of course, reserved for its appropriate sac- ramental solemnities. On the space without, it has been our pur- pose to offer, daily, the other portions of that true and laudable service which our branch of the Church seems to contemplate and direct, however neglected by modern usage. In these respects our ministrations are mainly conformed to those which at present obtain in the Church of the Holy Communion, in the city of New York ; and I venture to enclose with this so much of the Rev. Dr. Muhlen- berg's excellent pastoral tract on postures in prayer, as may serve, in some measure, to explain and vindicate our own. Very faithfully. Yours, " in the holy office of priesthood," W. CROSWELL. Rev. ilANTON Eastburn, D. D,, Bishop of Massachusetts. 1848. " With a grateful sense of all God's mercies, we enter upon the beginning of another year, which we hope to spend as we should desire if we knew it to be our last." Thus does he commence the correspondence of the new year, and, after filling his sheet with miscellaneous matter, he closes with the " salutations of the season." But even before this letter had been sent to the post office, he had occasion to express his devout gratitude to God for a special mercy, in giving him a second daughter. This took place on the 3d of January ; and he had it in his power to announce that both mother and child were doing well. " We have had," he says, " sundry choice gifts for the new year, but this is the most precious of all." At the same time, his parochial relations were fair and prosperous. It is true, that the expense of repairing and fitting up their new place of worship had involved the parish in a considerable debt ; and in his anxiety to see this encumbrance removed, the thought had occurred to him, that some aid might be sought from the friends of 52 410 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM C110S\^^LL. [1848. the enterprise in other dioceses. Writing to a lay gentleman in New York, on whose friendship and generosity, as well as sound judgment, he knew he could rely, he says, "The expenses of the repairs have, of course, exceeded the estimates. It comes heavily upon the few who have made the whole outlay of the purchase, and I am most anxious to relieve them of a portion of it. I have been reluctant to consent to applications to our friends abroad for assist- ance ; nor would I do so now, but I think it right to let them know that a little aid in this emergency m ould be most seasonable. If you could tell me how I could raise a thousand dollars in New York, without asking for it, you would do me a great favor." But on further reflection, and after receiving advices from this excellent friend, he changed his mind, and wrote again, acknowledging the correctness of his views, and adding, " In truth, I have from the first resisted the idea, as unworthy of being entertained by Boston churchmen, of receiving foreign aid in our local enterprises ; and, indeed, I have taken the ground with regard to all applications from abroad for erecting churches, that every community must provide its own place of worship, and that, if a missionary failed to inspire suffi- cient enthusiasm to induce the faithful to gather to divine offices under such a shelter as a barn could give them, his labors must evidently have been in vain, and it would be an intimation of the will of Provi- dence that his tent must be pitched elsewhere. I have been willing that our operations should be tried by this test, and I am sure they will abide it. From the warm sympathies, however, manifested in our behalf, from the first, and from the encouragement which our visiting friends from New York and elsewhere had held out, there have been some who were sanguine that we had but to hold out our dish to have it filled even to running over. I am not sure that I have escaped blame in some quarters for my remissness in availing myself of such supposed facilities. Under these circumstances, when the pressure came rather heavily upon a few, I wrote as I did to you, and am very glad that the tenor of your reply confirms all the views which I have so often expressed. In the mean while, Hercules, or rather some more Christian power, has put his shoulder to the wheel, and the whole sum necessary to complete the pur- chase of the property has been raised, chiefly within ourselves, be- sides the necessary funds for repairs. ... In this respect we begin to realize how one individual example of generous zeal pro- duces many like minded. I trust, in this way, you have yourself been instrumental of more good than you can measure, in the Church at large, and that, multiplying and reflected in all directions, you will five to see the whole glowing around you like a constella- tion. . . . Every thing looks very encouragingly. The church is well attended, the ordinances honored, Sunday school flourishing, the wants of the poor provided for, the support liberal, 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 411 the sympathy of the brethren at large hvely. Those of the city clergy who have attempted to gird us in with a wall of fire, and compel us to unworthy terms of fellowship and excliange, will find that there are more with us than against us. I have commenced a series of exchanges, and shall probably find no difficulty in obtain- ing the reciprocation of services with almost every clergyman of character and standing in this part of the diocese. Many of the best of them would be glad if it were in their power to adopt the same arrangements." After urging his friend to employ his influ- ence in favor of free sittings and the restoration of the daily ser- vice, as the privilege of Christ's people, he adds, " I never was so clear and so happy in my convictions, that this is according to the divine will and the primitive order of the Church. The Lord Bishop of Fredericton will consecrate no church in his diocese in which the sittings are not free; and I believe that he has already consecrated some tw^enty on these terms." Writing to his father on the same subject, he says, " Our prospects look more encouraging than when I wrote last ; I mean financially, for in every other respect they are all that the most sanguine friend could desire. We can see our way clear for the payment of every cent, with the exception of the mortgage of ten thousand dollars under which we took the building, and we shall endeavor gradually to wear that away likewise. This has been accomplished, thus far, without a cent of assistance from abroad, and with all sorts of antagonistic influences round about us." After speaking of the hostilities pur- sued by the bishop and his partisans, including repeated assaults in the columns of the " Witness," he adds, " In the mean while, I am regularly invited to meet the settled clergy once a fortnight, as they assemble at each other's houses in rotation. I have continued to decline these overtures for several sufficient reasons, which it is not necessary to mention in detail. I never affected these little coteries of associationists, and it is no great privation." But few items of general interest are to be drawn from his cor- respondence of this period. He always speaks gratefully of the well being of his family ; and on the 15th of February thus notes the baptism of his little daughter on the previous Sunday : " In the afternoon, the venerable Dr. Eaton received ' Susan ' into the bosom of the Church by holy baptism." And on the 13th of March he speaks thus of a portrait for which he had been sitting : " Brackett has about finished my portrait. I have sat but seven or eight times, at my convenience, and he has not been exorbitant in his demands on my patience. I saw it for the first time to-day. It seems to me to be quite remarkable. The style is very good — subdued and grave ; the dress simple — no canonicals ; the face thoughtful. I should have reason to be satisfied with it as a like- ness, and it is so pronounced by those who have as yet been allowed 412 ilEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. to see it." A copy of this picture was afterwards presented to his parents by the kind friend under whose patronage it was painted. It was highly valued, at the time, as a most faithful portrait ; and now that the living original is no more to be seen on earth, it is held as an inestimable relic. Having now prepared another class for confirmation, he entered into the following correspondence with his bishop : — Boston, Api-il 4, 1848. Right reverend and dear Sir: I trust to be prepared to pre- sent several candidates for confirmation, whenever you shall think proper to make an appointment for that purpose. If consistent with your other engagements to name any time towards the close of the month, it will be most agreeable to me. ,It is hardly necessary for me to repeat, that, on occasion of epis- copal visitation, the arrangements for worship at the Church of the Advent are submitted entirely to your own direction. Very sincerely, your faithful presbyter, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Dr. Eastbuen, Bishop of Massachusetts. Tremont Street, April 5, 1848. Reverend and dear Sir: As I do not feel myself at liberty, for reasons well known to you, to visit your church for the purpose of administering confirmation, according to the request contained in your note of yesterday, I beg to say, that I shall hold confirma- tions, during the present month, in the following churches : — Sixth Sunday in Lent, in the morning, at Grace Church, Boston ; and at the place of worship of the Church of the Messiah in the afternoon. Easter day, at St. Paul's, Boston, in the afternoon ; and at Christ Church in the evening. After Easter day, I shall be absent from the city, as you are probably aware, on every Sunday until the fifth after Easter. It will give me great pleasure to administer the " laying on of hands " to such candidates as you may present to me on any one of the four occasions above named. I leave the selection entirely to yourself. Meanwhile, I am, very sincerely, yours, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. Dr. Croswell, Rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston. Boston, April 12, 1848. Right reverend and dear Sir : In decUning to administer con- firmation at the Church of the Advent, I cannot but think that you are continuing to do us a great wrong. I feel bound, therefore, to 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 413 continue my solemn remonstrance against it, and also against the inference, that, in submitting to it thus far, I intend to waive any canonical ground of objection. Under this protest, I beg to apprise you, that, from my long and interesting connection with the ancient parish of Christ Church, I am inclined to regard your appointment for that place as least open to exception, and propose to present my candidates accordingly, should the rector permit, on Easter Sunday evening. Faithfully, your presbyter, W. CROSWELL. To the Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts. Accordingly, the following correspondence took place with the rector of Christ Church : — BosTOxV, April 12, 1848. To Reverend John Woart, Rector of Christ Church, Boston. Reverend and dear Sir : Of the churches in the city in which I am allowed by our bishop to present my candidates for confirma- tion, you can readily conceive by what associations I am led to name Christ Church, when excluded from my own. It seems to be my duty, first, however, to obtain your permission for what might otherwise be considered as an encroachment on the rights of pres- byters and parishes ; and I wish to assure you, that the movement is involuntary on my part, and I disclaim all responsibility for it. Very truly, yours, W. CROSWELL. The Reverend Doctor Croswell. Reverend and dear Brother : It will be perfectly agreeable to me to have you present your candidates for confirmation to the bishop this year at our church. You can make such communication to Bishop Eastburn, if you desire it ; and when the time is fixed, I should like to know it, as I shall endeavor to be present. Very truly, your friend and brother, JOHN WOART. Bedford Sxeeet, April 13, 1848. Bedford Street, Aiiril 19, 1848. Reverend and dear Brother: I have appointed a quarter past seven as the time of service at Christ Church, next Sunday evening. You will be notified by the sexton, or by some other person at the door, which pews are to be occupied by your candi- dates. 414 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. As to the service on such occasions, I usually refer every thing to the bishop, the reading of the prayers, &c., &.c. Affectionately, in Christ, your friend and brother, JOHN WOART. The Rev. Dr. Croswell. Having thus again submitted, under protest, to the bishop's un- reasonable dictation, he had only to proceed, patiently and dili- gently, in his daily duties, and in preparing his class for the ensuing solemnity. A few brief sketches from his " Words of Days," and other memoranda, will show how he was occupied during the dis- tinguished week, commonly called Passion week, which preceded the great festival of Easter. " Sunday next before Easter, April 16. Rector at Sunday school with Rev. Dr. Eaton. , . . Rector baptized an adult, and preached on the supper at Bethany, as introductory to the ser- vices of the week. P. M., baptized seven children. Preached on the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem. After service, per- formed funeral solemnities in the church. " Monday, April 17. Morning service by rector, assisted by Rev. Dr. Eaton and Rev. Mr. Pollard. A few remarks on the service made by the rector. Evening service by the same. Sermon by rector : ' They shall look on Him whom they have pierced.' " Tuesday, April 18. Morning service as yesterday. Short commentary by rector on service and the twenty-second Psalm. Evening service by the same. Sermon by the rector, on ' the cleansing of the temple.' Large congregation. "Wednesday, April 19. Morning service as before. Remarks on treachery of Judas. Evening service by rector ; also the ser- mon, on the Lord's supper. The choir in attendance at every service this week. Music very solemn and impressive. » Thursday, April 20. Morning service by rector and Messrs. E. and P. Sermon by rector, on ' Gethsemane.' At evening ser- vice, Mr. P. assisted rector in prayers. Rector preached on char- acter and warning of Pilate. "Good Friday, April 21. Morning prayer by Rev. Mr. P. The rest by the rector, assisted by Rev. Dr. E., in the epistle. Rector preached : ' Behold the Lamb of God.' Large congregation. Music very touching. Evening service at half past seven. Prayers by Rev. Mr. P. Lessons, psalter, and sermon on the penitent thief, by the rector. " Easter even, April 22. Morning service by rector and Rev. Messrs. E. and P. Sermon by rector, on the holy women resting according to the commandment. After service, baptized two adults. At evening service, rector and Rev. Mr. P. officiated. Sermon by rector, on ' burial of Christ.' Baptized two persons. 1848.1 CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 415 " Easter day, April 23, — ' Sweet day, so calm, so soft, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky.' At Sunday school. Rev. Dr. E. officiated. Morning service by rec- tor, assisted by Rev. Dr. E. Rector prea«hed : ' The Lord is risen indeed.' Very large congregation and communion. In the after- noon, rector read service, Dr. E. assisting, and preached : ' Christ our Passover,' &.c. After service, distributed books to the children, provided as an Easter gift by the liberality of a parishioner. Can- didates for confirmation assembled at church at half past six o'clock. Walked to the house of God called Christ Church, in company. Rector assisted Rev. Mr. Woart in the evening service, and read preface to the confirmation office. Twenty candidates presented by the rector. Church very full." It is further mentioned, as a significant fact, that while the rector of the Advent presented his tiotnty candidates, the rector of Christ Church, after an interval of two years, presented but nine ; and that, at the recent confirmations in St. Paul's and Trinity, there were but seven presented in each church. It is also stated, as a gratifying circumstance, that the late governor of New Brunswick, Sir William Colebrook, and suite, attended the service and com- munion at the Advent in the morning, and did not go to the " Ca- thedral " (Trinity) until afternoon. In a subsequent letter, he says, " I was favored with an interview with Sir William Colebrook and lady, last week, and was much delighted with their simple and un- assuming manners. Lady Colebrook is particularly devoted to the Church, and has been as attentive at our daily service as her health will allow." To show in what estimation his recent services were held by his parishioners, it seems proper to transcribe a portion of a note from one of his most confidential friends of the laity, to whom he had loaned his late correspondence with the bishop : — " Though so many days have passed since Passion week, I can- not return these papers without telling you of the great numbers in your parish who have spoken of you, in connection with the ser- vices of that week and of the preceding and succeeding Mondays, with warm gratitude. One gentleman, in particular, asked me why I would not let you know what we all felt. It seemed to many of us as if God must have helped you in an especial manner to go through such labors with so earnest and imwearied a spirit. It surely will be blessed to you, in its influences on your people. For myself, in particular, I beg you to accept my most hearty thanks." . The following letter is worthy of a place in the record of the 416 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. Lenten services of this year, especially as it presents, in so true a light, the spirit in which he desired to cultivate intercourse with his clerical brethren, and labor in his divine IMaster's cause. Those who characterized William Croswell as a formalist, or a man of extreme and exclusive views in the Church, could have done s( only through ignorance or malice. The Rev. Dr. Baury, to whom the letter is addressed, has served the Church in Massachusetts too long and too faithfully to allow his position to be questioned. It is hardly necessary to say, that the request was readily complied with. Boston, March 13, 1848. Reverend and dear Brother : We have commenced a course of Lent lectures at our church, in connection with the Wednesday and Friday evening services, (at five o'clock,) in sustaining which several of the neighboring clergy have been kind enough to unite. I feel greatly the need of brotherly aid and countenance, next to the supporting grace of God. While we value the services of any of our brethren, without respect of persons or party, at such time, it would be especially grateful to enjoy those of the elder clergy of the diocese, faithful and true, with whom it has been our privilege for many years to walk to the house of God as friends. If you could make it convenient to be in town on either of those evenings during the season, and could name the time in the course of the week (so as to prevent its conflicting with arrangements yet to be made with the other clergy) on which you would give us a word in season, I should be very much obliged. You are aware that no constraint of conscience is attempted, with regard to doctrine, posture, or vestment. Plain, practical preaching is what is most needed with us, as every where. Yours, in haste, but affection, W. CROSWELL. The Rev. Alfred L. Batjrt, Rector of St. Mary's Church, Newton Lower Falls, Mass. After Easter, he dispensed with the services of his assistant, the Rev. Mr. Pollard, and took upon himself the entire duties of the parish, including three services on each Sunday, and daily morning and evening prayers. But he was seldom alone in the performance of these services. The Rev. Dr. Eaton always stood ready to render him any aid in his power, and he frequently enjoyed the further assistance of his visiting brethren. At this time, his general health was very good ; but he began to suffer great inconvenience from a local difficulty, which continued during the remainder of his life, and which was probably the precursor of the malady which 1848.] CIIUIICH OF THE ADVENT. 417 finally proved fatal. Tliis was an involuntary spasmodic or convul- sive motion of the facial muscles, and for a few seconds at each return distorted the eye and the mouth, and proved a serious em- barrassment in the performance of his public services. It was also peculiarly troublesome when he was engaged in excitmg conversa- tion. He was advised to avoid, as far as possible, all close applica- tion to study, and to take as much out-of-doors' exercise and recre- ation as his duties would permit. He only allowed him.self time, however, to make a few short visits to his paternal home during the season ; the first, with all his family, in the month of .Tune, and another at the time of the commencement of Trinity College. This last was an exciting occasion. He had been appointed by the House of Convocation, at their meeting in the preceding year, to deliver a poem before the convocation at this commencement. From the first, he shrunk almost intuitively from this task. Under the inter- dict of his physicians, and amid all his absorbing occupations, he felt that the preparation of such a poem would be altogether too formidable a task upon his powers. He had other reasons, also, as will be perceived from the subjoined extracts from his correspond- ence, for wishing to dechne ; and hence he endeavored to excuse himself from the undertaking. He immediately addressed a note to Richard H. Dana, Esq., who had been named as a "substitute," in case of his failure, in which he says, " I see, by the Calendar, that the 'Trinitarians' have had the presumption to name you as a 'substitute' for a poet, and — Heaven save the mark! — that poet me. If I thought that you could be induced to entertain the idea, — and, for the sake of the Church and the college, it is to be desired greatly, — I would gladly stand out of your way." But it would seem that Mr. Dana was not disposed either to interfere or come to his relief As the time approached, he felt more and more un equal to the task of preparation ; and hence, writing to his father during the session of the diocesan convention, he says, " As soon as the convention is over, I shall inform the scribe of tlie House of Convocation that I shall be obliged to decline the poem at Trinity. My face has got to twitching at a troublesome rate ; and the doctor says I must not think too intently, nor apply myself to the pen My daily cares are about all that I am equal to. Besides this, I have greater and greater misgivings of the lawfulness of holdinj; these exercises in consecrated places of worship, especially when a necessity is involved of building platforms over the place of the most sacred mysteries. In these respects, it is time that judgment began at the house of God. The sessions of our ecclesiastical con- ventions, even, I regard as among the worst kinds of profanation ; much more, the academical." He wrote accordingly. " But," lie says in a subsequent letter, " they will not take ?io for an answer. So I must keep at work." And, finally, on the 25tli of July !/■ 53 418 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. writes, " You see that I am gazetted as laureate at Trinity, next week ; and, though much unwritten poetry remains to be developed before I shall be ready, I shall probably be on baud." Of the poem thus reluctantly prepared he entertained a very mean opinion. He declined furnishing a copy for publication, and the original manuscript is nowhere to be found complete. The only copy in the possession of his biographer (such as it is) was made by another hand, without his approbation, and it bears this indorsement, made by his own hand: "A wi'etched copy of as wretched a doggerel." The poem certainly was composed and delivered under many disadvantages ; but this judgment of his is too severe. He seemed to have a mind too much occupied with his many duties, to find the quiet which yielded his best inspiration as an author. The laborious duties of his parish, with a daily morning and evening service, and such other cares as came upon him, ab- solutely prevented him from finding the time to write it out with any care. He informed one of his most intimate friends, who, after it had been delivered, asked to see it, that it was not in a legible condition ; that he had composed and written a considerable portion of it in the cars, after he left Boston for Hartford to attend the commencement ; that there was a great want of connection between different parts ; and that the versification was very imperfect. Great allowances, it is granted, must be made for his health, and other circumstances, some of which have been mentioned, and others of which cannot be properly introduced ; yet, while it is admitted that their disadvantageous influences may be traced in the poem, it is thought by many that they tended quite as strongly to unfit him to exercise a candid judgment upon its merits. If the object of this memoir were solely or chiefly to perpetuate his reputation as a poet, there would be more occasion to doubt an editor's right to use this manuscript with any freedom. When, however, he rose to perform his appointed duty in the convocation of Trinity College, lie had it in mind to discharge a higher duty also. He stooped, as it were, to veil in rhyme an argument which would, perhaps, have commanded the attention of fewer persons, had he brought it forward in solid prose. " A verse may find him who a sermon flies." Mindful of this, rather than not to speak his mind where he felt a word was so much needed, lie chose to speak it in a manner which it seems was so distasteful to himself. This argument in its tone and aim is so thoroughly in harmony with his character, that a faithful biographer cannot pass it by without some special notice. The excuse made for printing some part of it is, however, one rather to his memory than to the reader. The whole poem is quite 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 4!9 as good as most of those productions to which similar occasions give rise. To those who are famiUar with its local and personal allusions, it might probably seem to claim the first place. But those parts the biographer has for the most part suppressed, from a con- sciousness that with other readers they might leave an unfair im- pression of the poem. The " poem " may be said to be a metrical essay on the reverence due to sacred places and holy things, and an exhortation to the cultivation of such reverence, especially in the Church and its academical and collegiate institutions. " His own feelings on the misuse of churches for commencement exercises have just been quoted from a letter; they appear more at large in the poem. The poem is too irregular to allow an analysis ; but, by way of explanation of some allusions, it may be said, that in the beginning he takes his audience back to their early college life, mingling these reminiscences with alternate touches of wit and pathos. Being a graduate at Yale, — the alma mater of a large part of the members of Trinity College House of Convocation, — his references are naturally turned to that place ; and recalling the por- traits in the Philosophic Hall, thus speaks of one of Yale's ancient patrons : — There first we gazed on the serene expanse Of Berkeley's bright and heavenly countenance, And could not but contrast it, in our sport. With thy pinched visage, prick-eared Davenport ; Nor queried, as we turned to either face. Which were the real genius of the place. Taught, in a brother's words, to love in thee " Earth's every virtue, writ in poesy ; " O Berkeley, as I read, with moistened eyes, Of thy sublime but blasted enterprise,* — Refusing, in thy pure, unselfish aim. To sell to vulgar wealth a founder's fame, But in thy fervor sacrificing all To objects wortliy of the name of Paul, — What joy to see in our official line A faith revived, identical with thine ; Pledged to fulfil the spirit of thy scheme. And prove thy college no ideal dream. And when, on yonder walls, we now survey The man " whose grace chalked his successor's way,' And study, Samuel, thy majestic head, By Berkeley's son to heaven's anointing led, And see the ways of Providence combine The gentle bishop with the masculine, * St. Paul's College, Bermuda. 420 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. We pray this noblest offspring of thy see May honor Berkeley, nor dishonor thee. And join with these those master minds of yore Who loved their college much, but conscience more, — Cutler and Johnson, — M'hom one rigorous day Drove out from Yale, a voluntary prey, To reap at once by Cam and Isis' side The honors which maternal scorn denied. Though it might well provoke their reverend smiles To think of rivalling those immortal piles ; Yet, as aspiring over sect and clique. To follow all that made them catholic. If they were here from Christ Church chimes afar, To-day, as Cutler's two successors are,* They would have prayed, dear Trinity, to see " No drought on others, but much dew on thee." He then discusses the adaptation of architecture to its true intent ; and after noticing some anomalies, such as the common use of the model of the holy sepulchre for railroad engine houses, in- vokes better things for Trinity College : — Harvard and Yale have both revived the style And antique grandeur of some fine old pile. Those solemn towers — how beautiful they stand, Like mighty minsters of our fatherland ! But not, alas ! for worship ; though their looks Be so cathedral like, they hold but books ; The form, without the spirit, each retains — The vizard of the fable without brains. And so they sever piety from art, Addressing more the intellect than heart. Not to resist the truism of the hour, We freely grant that knoivledge may be poioer ; But on our knees, and not on alcoved shelves, We find, through God, the knowledge of ourselves. But far from such unholy sights as these The hopes that haunt our sacred reveries : In yonder hall there yet is room to spare For store of books — would that the books were there ! But if, indeed, the love of letters hold Its place, as handmaid to tlie faith of old, * Rev. Drs. Eaton and Choswell. 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 421 And -we would have that favored site to be, Above all others, " fair exceedingly," Let Wheaton plan, like this, another shrine For purposes exclusively divine ; Not York Cathedral, " on a smaller scale," And " much improved where the dark ages fail ; " Nor yet King's College Chapel, that " immense And glorious work of fine intelligence ; " But "ff/Z ive can. — high Heaven disdains the lore Of nicely-calculated less or more." There, with the stony archwork overhead, Beneath our feet the ashes of the dead, And monumental efBgies around. The soul might wander as in holy ground, And feel a soft religious sadness brood, Deepening the spirit of its quietude. There let the sun " salute with his first smile Our holiest symbol crowning the dear pile ; " And be the power of architecture shown To lift the Athanasian creed in stone. Within, a tempered light, like sunset skies, Let glimmerings of a thousand gorgeous dyes Shed streaming down from every pictured pane, Their rainbow glories round the vaulted fane, And through the window o'er the altar fling The heaven-hued symbols in enamelling. •' And beams thus hallowed through the scenes they pass Tell on the floor their parable of glass." There let the organ and the strain devout ' Make every stone in sympathy. cry out. Like some harmonious fabric of the Lord's, " Whose vaults are shells, and pillars tuneful chords." There let the surpliced priests in order stand — And why not white-robed choirs on either hand ? If this be too extravagant a pitch, (Alas ! that our endowments are not rich,) Still, " what we can." Let us contend, at least, For daily service and the vested priest ; And let the season blend, in fixed career, The Christian and the academic year ; Be music carried to the full extent Allowed by ancient choral precedent ; And let the students' well-trained voices swell Each hoary laud, time-honored canticle. Which England, purged from superstition's stain. Resumed among her earliest rites again. 422 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. Hark ! how the strains, increasing far and wide, Rise from Geneva * and from Riverside If Like deep to deep the billowy anthem calls, From far Nashotah to her own St. Paul's, And rings through her affiliated halls. Vale of the Cross, as gentle shepherds tell. Such sounds are heard in thy secluded dell ; From Corbin's grot the selfsame chant is raised, And " daily prayer is made, and daily is He praised." Perhaps it is not scandal to compare Such courts with that amphibious place of prayer, (Contrived, like Goldsmith's chest, two debts to pay — ■ A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day,) Where now a while in worship we engage, Then knights and squires shall enter on the stage, Which, for a time, a meeting house is made, And then it glitters in a masquerade. Four years I saw the central aisle divide The rows of rising seats on either side, Where double choirs, ward over against ward, Might sing responsive praises to the Lord. But not so these : while yet the tutor reads, The muster master's busy work proceeds. In due obeisance every head was bent Upon the entering of the president, But held it superstitious for the free At Jesds' name to bow the lowly knee. And scarce the echoes died of prayer and praise. Before the youths declaimed or spouted plays. These are the ways which in our western climes Make the " men-children of these forward times ; " Of whom old Drydren said, so long ago, " But seven wise men the ancient world did know. We scarce know seven that think themselves not so." Against these evils let the Church commence Her sure protection, and her " cheap defence." Though worldly cares have chilled devotion's flame, Here let our needs a daily homage claim ; Here let our prayers like morning incense rise. Our lifted hands like evening sacrifice ; Devotion's debt at morn and eve to pay. And magnify our Savior day by day. * Hobart Free College, at Geneva, New York. t The seat of Bishop Doane, at Burlington, New Jersey. 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. In order these great objects to secure, All must be first begun in miniature ; And if a while your patience will but bear With these plain couplets, I will tell you where This is the place and time ; at once begin Here to restore the ancient discipline ; Adopt the Church's homogeneous plan To make the boy the father of the man ; Where, in their due development, appear The blade, the ear, the full corn in the ear, And making good the old proverbial line. Just as the twig is bent, the trees incline. Let every pupil with his sapling aid To fill the grounds with shrubbery and shade ; Plant oaks and " elms, those undissenting trees," That grow not fast, but thrive for centuries ; Beneath whose shadow, ages hence, our heirs May bless our forethought, and take thought for theirs. And let the English ivy, high and thick, Conceal the tame monotony of brick — Amid the snows of winter evergreen, From summer suns a most refreshing screen. Nor would my scheme reject the dining hall, Where what was meant for one was meant for all ; Such as it was of old, when common food Was made a bond of Christian brotherhood. And each might wait, and of his Savior learn " To be as him that serveth," in his turn. But first of all erect a chapel there. And join at morn and eve in common prayer ; If means be wanting, take yon upper room. And teach the light to counterfeit the gloom ; Then, chastening down the gaudy light of day. Subdue the thoughts bewildered with their play. And let the organ add its soothing sway. Set up the holy altar there, and trail Their young affections round the chancel pale ; Purging the taint of heresy and schism By constant portions of the catechism. In open view, let none regard the floor Too low when prostrate mortals would adore, But duly raise, upon their bended knees. The full response of ancient litanies ; iSH MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848. Invoke their Savior in his Church's voice, And in his eucharistic hymns rejoice. The pointed Psalter, printed in their heart, There let them learn to bear their tuneful part. Drilled on the cadence of that thrilling scale Which, caught from seraphs, must o'er earth prevail. So shall the watered seed spring up, and so Children of grace to giant stature grow. Nor let us see that holy place within A priest " with broadcloth buttoned to his chin." Holmes writes, " Heaven needs no surplice ; " as if he Thought Heaven was pleased when men dressed slovenly. Heaven needeth not man's wisdom, but much less It needeth any of man's foolishness. If this be superstition, may we be All guilty of it in the first degree. Remembering thus Jerusalem in his mirth. Sweet Herbert found his very heaven on earth ; And Milton tells,* as Milton only can, What there he learned — poor, superstitious man! O, on yon slope, may some such towers arise As plumed his wings sublime for paradise ; Where, in our day, due feet might never fail. Like his, to walk the studious cloisters' pale. And love, like him, the high embowered roof Resting on antique pillars, massy proof, And catch through storied windows richly dight A dim, religious, " superstitious " light : There may we hear the pealing organ blow To full-voiced choirs, antiphonal, below. In that same service high, and anthems clear, As oft with sweetness through his charmed ear Dissolved great Milton's self to ecstasies, And brought all heaven before his raptured eyes. And yet another tabernacle rear For such occasions as have brought us here ; Above the stir and din of mangling mart. Beside the ancient passage of the HART,f Let faith and fancy help to give to fame " A local habitation and a name." Beneath the dogstar and midsummer heat. Let no procession through the burning street, With tasselled cap and academic gown. Exposed to the annoyance of the town, * n Penseroso. t The name of the river by -which the coUege grounds are bo\mded. CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. Like needless alexandrine in the song, Or wounded snake, trail its slow length along ; Pavilioned, if it need be, in a tent, Until some Wickham makes it permanent ; Or cloistered where o'erarching boughs have made Refreshing contiguity of shade ; There let us gather, where no sounds intrude To break the silence of the solitude Save song of native birds, or piercing scream Of railroad engine clattering o'er the stream. If we must have processions, let them pass When shadows lie the longest on the grass ; And for this martial music, let there be Such chants as floated down the S34van Dee — The " Miserere mei, Domine." And let the bell in yonder humlJle tower Wake dewy silence at an earlier hour, And usher in, betimes, the festal day " With merry peal and changeful roundelay " Thus in the morning, far from Babel's dust. These August days might yet be days august, And words of power the place might glorify, Which willingly the world would not let die. Tiiere Dana might, in happiest mood, rehearse Some last great effort of his deathless verse ; Or Irving, like Arcadian, might beguile The golden hours with his melodious style ; Or he who takes no second living rank Among the classics of the Church — Verplanck; Or he whose course " right onward " here begun, Now sheds its brightness over Burlington, (Where our young sons like noble saplings grow. And daughters like the polished pillars show,) And with the elder worthies, join the throng Of young adventurers for the prize of song. My heart upbraids me, friends, with double wrong, While I inflict and you endure the song. Were we indeed in earnest, and sincere. When we professed that heaven's high gate was here, And set apart forever, day and night. These solemn courts for old liturgic rite ? Then we must sure be wrong ; we greatly err Who use the church worse than the theatre, And, like false Israel, our high places raise As scaffolds on our sacrificing days ; 54 426 TklEMOIIl OF WILLIAM CROS^\TELL. [1848. Where one at least, poor victim of his kind, If not as strong as Samson, yet as blind, Comes sadly forth, to make Philistines sport, And immolate himself in Dagon's court ; Content if but the sacrifice should tend To bring these gross abuses to an end. Pardon thy servant, Lord, if he profane These hallowed walls with his unworthy strain ; Forgive this once all that to-day he durst — His last transgression, as it is his first — In telling truths which every body knows. But dare not speak them plainly out in prose ; And for the future, hear his solemn pledge To be no party to the sacrilege. O, would we teach young scholars reverence, Let judgment hei-e begin — take these things hence ; And doubt it not. His Holy Spirit grieves To see His house made like a den of thieves ; To see the stage, the last our graduates trod. Erected o'er the altar of our God ; And grave divines upon the platform meet To tread our holiest things beneath their feet. This cannot sure be right : we ask to see. If not perfection, yet consistency. No wonder, where such profanation dwells. Our sons emerge precocious infidels. O, better far, if we can find no hall For such assembly, to have none at all ; Or, like the sons of knighthood, take degrees Before the altar, on our bended knees. Scarce more disgusting this, when year by year. With his red flag, comes in the auctioneer ; Abomination, blazoned on his face. Stands, where it ought not, in the holy place ; Where he who sells combines with him who buys To make God's house a house of merchandise. Within the sacred altar's rail, or desk, He lifts his voice in impudent burlesque ; Lays godless hands upon the Bible lid, Not to ask blessings, but to ask a bid : And voices, never heard in time of prayer, Are emulous in loud responses there. O, thus, methinks, might Mammon once have stood, With that same look, and that same attitude, And bent his downward glances to behold Heaven's courts inlaid with patins of bright gold. 1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 427 And, as the poet tells, admiring more The trodden wealth of that resplendent floor Than aught enjoyed of holy or divine, In vision beatific, at the shrine. But had that spirit, " least erect," the gift With which our modern Mammons follow thrift. He might from his high place have learned to muse Of parcelling heaven's pure pavement into pews; Seen how to make each consecrated floor Productive gold, that was but wood before ; Where men have leave in narrow slips to pray, (If pray they choose,) provided that they pay ; And do not care to worship on their knees, But sit, like rows of meal sacks, at their ease. Unless its title deeds a falsehood tell. The house of God cannot be man's to sell ; Much less to turn it, before God and man. Into a kind of college caravan. If insincere our gift, and we retain Part of the price, the gift is worse than vain : We dare to tempt His ancient people's fate. Whose house was left unto them desolate ; And though no gates, like theirs, asunder start, Nor unseen voices cry, " Let us depart," The glory will have vanished, and our God Have written on its portals, Ichabod. Fi'om this time the distortion of his face became more and more troublesome, and lie felt constrained to curtail his mental labors as far as practicable ; and even his letters were despatched with un- usual brevity. In addition to this, he was visited, within a short period, with a very severe domestic affliction. The little daughter whose birth he had gratefully announced at the opening of the year, and who had enjoyed up to this time a full measure of health, now began to betray symptoms of wasting disease. The first inti- mation of the anxiety produced by her case was conveyed to his father in a hasty note of the 24th September. " It is astonishing," he says, " how a few days' illness of this sort will affect a child. She has quite faded away like a leaf; and unless there be a de- cided change soon, we shall be much discouraged." But a single day intervened before the fatal result was announced. September 26, he writes, " The spirit of our dear little Susan was called away last night, to be where the souls of those who sleep in the Lord •lesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity. It was just as the shades of evening drew on, and the light of day did not fade more softly. 428 MEMOIR OF ^\^LLIAM CROSWELL. [lSi8. She had, indeed, a gentle dismission. Sift had been perfectly quiet and easy since morning, and we gazed on her sweet face as if it were already one of the beatified. I need not say that we feel acutely ; but we are still and calm, and from the bottom of our hearts desire to kiss our Father's rod, and bless him for the treasure now so safely laid up in heaven. Our hopes are cast down. We trusted she would have grown up in your love and blessing; but it is better so ; and our only prayer is, that we may be fitted to rejoin her in worlds where sickness, and death, and parting never come." October 3, he thus describes the funeral solemnities; and no apol- ogy is necessary for transcribing these particulars, well knowing that those will best understand how to receive them who have them- selves suftt;red the like affliction: "Our dear child — or ratlier all of her that was mortal — was buried on the feast of St. Michael's, the services of which were so beautifully appropriate, that the ser- mon of Rev. Mr. Greenleaf, who officiated, seemed to be meant for a funeral sermon. Every thing was so done as to be very soothing to our feelings. While she was laid out in the chamber, in her little crib, in one of her baby dresses, which was her only shroud, with a rosebud in her folded hands, she was, as it were, like one fallen into a sweet sleep. The expression of her face was beauti- ful ; her arms never lost their natural color ; and her grandmother's silver gift cup, full of the sweetest blossoms and flowers which the love of friends could select, was at her side. It was a sight which many came to see and weep over. . . . We had a sort of bier, made of a thin board, covered with white. This was carried to church by four little girls of our Sunday school, dressed in white, with black visites. The nurse followed, in the same dress ; then the mourners, in procession, walked to the church. Instead of a black pall, we used the beautiful white blanket, with its richly- wrought border, which was presented to her mother, during Mary's babyhood, at Auburn. It was a lovely sight, divested of all the usual dismal accompaniments, and which do not seem to belong to a case where death appears to have no sting to inflict, except upon the bosom of survivors." To this he adds, " It was at first our in- tention to have left here on Monday for New Haven, that my wife and Mary might make you a visit, while I went on to New-ark, Bur- lington, &c. ; but we are not yet quite ready. I have written an apology to Mr. Watson, and send this, something in the same spirit." From this letter to Mr. Watson one or two extracts are made : " I had looked forward with much expectation and interest to being present with you on the great day of the consecration of your beautiful church. But the week finds me in great aftliction, from the loss of oui- infant. . . . And I am laboring under the effects of a local, nervous infirmity, which all excitement tends to aggravate, as my medical counsellors advise, and which a scene 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 429 like this to which you invite me would not benefit. I reluctantly, therefore, send this note of apology, with the assurance, that in a few weeks I shall hope to see you under more quiet circumstances. I then expect that my wife, whom I do not like to leave alone just now, will he able to accompany me as far as my father's, at New Haven, while I proceed to Newark and Burlington. My health, meanwhile, is improving here by rest. Several of the younger brethren have come providentially to my assistance in the time of my need." After a few days' delay, the journey here projected was accom- plished ; and, for the remainder of the year, his labors were much relieved, not only by the voluntary aid of his brethren, but by the engagement of the Rev. Oliver S. Prescott as his regular assist- ant. Of his complaints in his face, he sometimes writes quite de- spondingly, and seems to have entertained but little hope of present improvement. In one of his last letters of the year, he says, " My ailments are much as usual. I am much inclined to let my medi- cines alone, for the present, — our doctors so advise, — and try bathing, galvanism, riding, and exercise. My health, apart from this, continues very sound ; and I do not know that it was ever firmer." 1849. After this temporary relaxation, he seems to have resumed the duties of the new year with renovated strength and spirits. His weekly letters are again regularly despatched ; and he speaks of his general health as " never better," and expresses a hojje that the " twitching in his face is gradually subsiding." During a short ill- ness of his new assistant, he says, " Happily, I have been free from any disability, and have carried on the services, with the help of Mr. Le Baron, the curate of St. Stephen's, and Mr. Prescott's intimate friend. I preached twice on Sunday, and made an address, next day, on the Feast of the Circumcision." But while all things else were thus going on prosperously, he was again compelled to renew his controversy with his bishop, by contending for what he considered his fair and legitimate rights. The following is a copy of the correspondence : — I. Feast op the Epiphaws 1849. Right reverend and dear Sir : In making your appointments for administering confirmation in the city parishes, this winter, it is 430 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS\VELL. 849. my earnest request that this privilege may be extended to the church of which I am rector, and which is hereby put at your dis- posal for the occasion ; or, if this may not be, that some other op- portunity may be afforded me for presenting our candidates. I shall endeavor to be prepared, any day, four weeks from date. With the best wishes of the season, Very sincerely yours, W. CROSWELL. The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, E'. D., Bishop of Massachusetts. n. Tremont Street, Jamiary 9, 1849. Reverend and dear Sir : I have received your note of Satur- day last, and in reply would say, that I will, with divine permission, administer confirmation to such candidates as you may present to me, in Christ Church, on the evening of Sexagesima Sunday, Feb- ruary 11. The present evening hour of service is seven, and will, I suppose, continue for some time to come. Reciprocating the kind wishes of this joyful season, I am very truly yours, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. W. Croswell, D. D. III. Boston, January 13, 1849. Right reverend and dear Sir : I have to acknowledge the receipt of your reply of the 9th to my note of the 6th instant, in which you propose to administer confirmation, in Christ Church, to such candidates as I may present to you on the evening of Sexa- gesima Sunday, February 11. I had cherished the hope that you would at length recognize the propriety of making that periodical visitation to our parish which the rules of the Church contemplate ; and 1 alluded to the other alternative solely with a view to avoid the renewal of an unpleasant controversy. In submitting, however, once more to the painfid necessity which you have imposed upon me for three successive years, and by which the administration of a solemn and interesting rite has been deprived of some of its most endearing personal attractions, I feel it to be my duty to enter my solemn protest against your refusal to visit the Church of the Ad- vent, as involving a violation of the first section of the twenty-fifth canon of 1832. A part of this section declares, " It is deemed proper that such visitations be made once in three years, at least, by every bishop, to every church within his diocese." Without entering, at present, upon the question, whether such an intimation of propriety be not binding upon the bishops, and 1849.1 CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 431 whether it has not " always had in their eyes the force of the most positive enactments," I content myself with this simple renewal of ray protest ; and, acting under it, will endeavor, by divine permis- sion, to meet your appointment. Very sincerely, yours, in all duty, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Manton Eastbukn, Bishop of Massachusetts. IV. Boston, January 13, 1849. Reverend and dear Sir: The bishop of the diocese has di- rected me to present my candidates for confii-mation at Christ Church, on the evening of Sexagesima Sunday, February 11, at seven o'clock. Constrained as I am to submit to this requirement, it is not without a solemn protest, as being in contravention of the twenty-fifth canon of 1833. If you have any objections to the proposed arrangement, you will, of course, make them to the bishop ; and if I hear nothing to the contrary, I shall expect, God willing, to conform to the bishop's appointment. Very truly, your friend and brother, W. CROSWELL. The Rev. John Woart, Rector of Christ Church. In conformity with this arrangement, after the full services of the day at his own church, including a baptism and the instruction of the Sunday school children, he met some of his candidates in the evening, and proceeded to Christ Church. Writing on the follow- ing day, he says, " Our confirmation was held last evening, as was proposed. Several of the candidates were not able to go, through sickness or other impediment. But we still had twenty — as many, and more, than could be conveniently accommodated about the chancel." Two additional candidates were presented by the rector of Christ Church. But in the midst of the services the gaslight failed, producing some delay and annoyance, and candles were sub- stituted, two of which were, " most ominously, set upon the altar." Tliese, however, while the bishop was confirming, were carefully extinguished by the rector of the church. " The bishop's address," he adds, " was very good ; but the sermon, which he intended to de- liver ' from the pulpit,' in consequence of the accident to the lights, was omitted. It fell to my lot to read the lesson, which was the second for the evening, according to the calendar, (2 Cor. vii.,) which you will see to be not altogether inappropriate." February 26, he writes, " We have entered on our Lenten ser- vices in a good spirit, and I expect that our candidates who received confirmation so recently will all make their first communion next 432 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849. Sunday. Our week-day prayers are better attended than usual, and things in general look very encouraging." From this time the labors of the season passed on uninterrupt- edly, until the 1 4th of March, when he was unexpectedly summoned home by a telegraphic despatch, announcing the severe sickness of his father. After a hasty preparation, he made the journey on the following day. It is only necessary to cite a few passages from the letters written to his wife during this visit of filial duty and affec- tion to show the current of his feelings. March 15, he writes, " Although you have heard by telegraph that father is better, yet I have not come on prematurely, or any too soon. I find his situation much according to my fears. The sore on his leg has obviously had its connection with this attack, and, though Dr. Skiff has not said so, doubtless makes it danger- ous. On Sunday, as I am told by several of our friends, he preached with unusual earnestness and animation ; and so, indeed, as one observes, has he done on the Sundays preceding it, ' making me feel,' the friend continues, ' as if these were indeed his last sermons.' After his labors on Tuesday, he came home exhausted, had a severe chill, and all the symptoms of violent fever. He ap- peared that day and night lethargic and stupid, — brain inert, — a symptom which much alarmed the doctor. Yesterday, however, he was more comfortable, and so continues to-day. His head is very clear and free from pain, and at times to-day he has perspired very freely. . . . He is very restless, at times, and has scarcely slept since attacked. He is not entirely without appetite, but takes a little light nourishment, with some apparent relisb." On the fol- lowing morning, he writes, " Father had a restless night, with much fever, relieved at intervals by profiise perspiration. This morn- ing, however, he is much better than yesterday morning — his countenance more natural, his tongue freer, his skin moist, his leg less inflamed, &c. ... I feel very hopeful, but still regard him as a very sick man, and by no means out of danger. 1 can- not, of course, think of coming back at present, and give up the idea of being home again before Sunday." He adds, in a post- script, " I need not say that father's spirit is just what might be expected in an aged Christian priest at such a crisis." On Saturday, the 17th, he writes as follows : " I am happy to re- peat that fatber continues to improve ; that he had a comfortable day yesterday, and a comparatively comfortable night. The doctor has been in this morning, and thinks that he is in every respect doing well, and that by the seventh day, Monday, the fever will leave him. It is obviously of nnich importance that I came home as I did, as it has a happy effect upon father's spirits that I am here. For the same reason, I must stay as long as I consistently can. By the next week, I trust, he will be greatly advanced on the way ot 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 433 recovery ; and by tlie middle of the week I hope to be with you again." Wednesday, 21st. " I feel now as if I could leave father with a good hope of his speedy restoration to health. . . . All that gives him any trouble now is his leg and ankle ; but I have been present at all the dressings, night and day, and have seen a gradual and decided improvement each time, and the doctor thinks that he will have no difficulty with it. ... I think father will soon be about again, and in better health after this turn than before." To these extracts it is a pleasure to add a faw other passages from a letter to his friend and his father's friend, Craus Curtiss, Esq., of New York, dated March 19. " Your anxieties, of course, are with us for father. Upon the first intimation of his sickness, knowing that at his time of life, and after the enjoyment of such uninterrupted health, any sickness must be serious, I hastened home, and arrived on Thursday. His worst symptoms had been relieved by that time ; but he was very restless and uncomfortable, and there was enough to occasion anxiety. I am happy to say, however, that he has been constantly improving since, and i^ almost entirely free from fever this morning. His last night was the most comfort- able which he has yet had. The condition of his leg is mending, and the inflammation seems to be subsiding as the other symptoms improve. He seems very natural, has as much appetite as is good for him, and enjoys such food as the rules allow. The doctor gives us reason to expect that in a few days he will be about again ; not, I trust, to resume the round of duty under which he has sunk. It will be difficult for me to be absent for many days longer ; and as soon as I have seen father through this conflict, I shall return." Before he closes, he speaks in these grateful terms of a very highly-finished portrait of his father, painted for Mr. Curtiss by the artist Jocelyn : " Many a time have I thanked you in my heart that his portrait would survive, and one so worthy of preservation." On his return to Boston, he resumed his regular correspondence with his father ; though it was not until the 29th of March that he received any return, and this was but an apology for a letter. But on Tuesday before Easter, April 3, he acknowledges the receipt of a full-length epistle : " I rejoice in the sight of a letter of the usual length, and bearing evidence that the inward man is renewed day by day. I trust, also, that, by God's good hand upon you, the out- ward man is continuing to gain, and to make progress towards com- plete restoration." In the same letter he transcribes the following- passage from a reply of the Rev. Dr. Potter, of Albany, to an inquiry with regard to the state of his sister-in-law, who had been for a long time in declining health : " I have been greatly comforted in seeing the state of Mrs. Sherman Croswell's mind. It is 55 434 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849 simple and unaffected, but most real and most wonderful. Slie is quite cheerful ; enjoys things about her with her usual sweetness ; but loves to look forward, and seems to see no terror. Nor is this owing to want of depth in her views. I never saw, especially in one of her vivacious temper, a more calm and beautiful icaiting ! " On Easter Tuesday, he writei? in high animation : " These glori- ous Easter days ! Were there ever any thing like them ? They are ahiiost a remedy for sickness ; and I hope they will have a heal- ing mercy for you, though you may yet be shut up, and cannot go to the temple of the Lord. Several of the brethren have been deprived of the same privilege. Brothers Greenleaf and Woart have both been confined to their rooms for a week or two, and were just able to get out and sit in the chancel on Easter morning. I could not but hope that you were doing at least as much." This hope was fully realized. His father was enabled on that blessed day to go to the house of God, and present his thank-oft'ering, though not sufficiently recovered to take any part in the services. He proceeds : " I have been greatly blessed myself with health, and all other enjoyments, for which I cannot be too thankful. Our Passion week services were interesting and well attended. The Easter services were quite transporting — music inspiring — church full — communion largest that we have yet had. We filled the font with sweet, delicious flowers ; and a silver vase on a shelf of the altar contained the same lovely, natural, significant symbols of the resurrection. We have received many tokens of aflectionate regard ; and our prospects, individually and collectively, were never brighter." An occasional passage is found in his correspondence which raises some misgivings with regard to the propriety of selecting so freely from his letters. Here is an example : " As to old letters, I grow very remorseless, and think it safest to consign them to de- struction — reserving perhaps a few for specimens. Filled as they are apt to be with personalities, intended for one confidential eye, they may be the means of creating feuds and heartburnings, which would not be compensated for by all the letters that ever were written. My own accumulate so fast, that, excepting our family correspondence, I believe that I shall make a bonfire of the bulk of them. . . . What I have written, I have written ; and 1 hope, befoie it be too late, all my letters will be committed to the flames. What a conflagration will they not make ! — less, however, than if they were not consumed, considering with what a free pen I have been in the habit of writing." Whatever may have been his momentary con- victions on this subject, no such work of destruction as is here inti- mated was ever committed. On the contrary, his well-arranged files of letters and papers probably outnumber the collections of most men of his age. 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 4fVi Several letters, chiefly of a private and confidential nature, ar<- here passed over ; and we now come to his account, under date of May 20, of his excursion to Greenfield, to attend the consecration of a new church in that parish : " I was at Greenfield on the 10th, as I purposed, and really had a very delightful time. I have not ceased since to regret that I had so long lost the personal acquaint- ance of friends, whom I had long known througii Dr. Strong, and whose society I should hope to enjoy, through Christ, in eternity. It is twenty years that I have been promising myself and them to visit Greenfield. The religious services were very interesting. The consecration was on Thursday. Being the only cleric left, 1 preached on Friday, morning and evening, and had service again on Saturday morning. On Sunday I assisted Dr. Strong, and preached at evening service. We had one or two delightful rides on the mountain sides around, which, like the hills, enclose Jerusa- lem. On Monday, I returned to Boston." On Whit Monday he writes, " We commemorated the great feast of Pentecost under circumstances that were very inspiring. There was a devout assemblage, a goodly number of whom remained to celebrate our holiest act of worship, and to call mightily, as I trust, with the faithful every where, for the communion of the Holy Ghost the Comforter. To-day we continue the memorial, and resume it to-morrow again. Then follow the Ember days, the sacramental lecture on Friday, preparatory to the last crowning festival, in which we acknowledge the glory of the Eternal Trinity, and, in the power of the divine Majesty, worship the Unity. Truly this is an anniversary week to the souls who prefer the old festivals of enduring interest to the novel, local, and ephemeral anniversaries that are now drawing people together in this city. ... As soon as this week is over, I shall begin to cast about to see what I can best do for recruiting myself during the warm weather. In the present state of concern with regard to the cholera, I shall not care to go far from the city. And, indeed, I shall expect to derive more benefit from little excursions to the neighboring beaches, exercise, and sea bathing, where I shall be entirely by myself, than amid such scenes of social excitement as may be connected with the visiting of friends. I have reason to bless God that, apart from this local inconvenience in my face, my health never seemed better." .Tune 4, speaking of the health of the city, he says, " Some cases of de- cided cholera have occurred, but as yet ihey are kept out of the papers. Indeed, they have been chiefly imported, or, if indigenous, among the filthier and more intemperate portions of our miserable fellow-creatures. Boston is in a much less fit condition of prepa- ration than on the former visitation. The population has greatly increased ; and those parts of the city which are most exposed are crowded to excess. Still there is much to favor us : the sea-wind — 436 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849. the comparative cleanliness — the complete system of sewerage, much more perfect than that of any other city in the country, as I am told — and the inclined plane of the hills, cleansing them more readily than if we were on the stagnant level of New York. However, our dependence is on the God whose providence directs, permits, restrains all influences, seen and unseen, in whatever way he pleases ; and our ohvious duty is, watching unto prayer." Of his little daughter, whose health had been suffering for some time past, he says, " Mary's seventh year was completed yesterday. Her health seems quite restored, as well as her spirits. She has some flesh and strength to acquire, however, before she will be where she was before her sickness." June 25, after speaking of a prevailing epidemic, to which several prominent persons had fallen victims, and of various recommenda- tions of the physicians as to diet and regimen, he turns to topics of personal consideration. " Yesterday, St, John Baptist's, was the twentieth anniversary of my ordination as priest and institution into the rectorship of Christ's Church, Boston. It was a solemn day to me. The Holy Communion was administered. By another co- incidence, I attended a funeral at Christ's Church, in the absence of the rector ; but there was a sad change in the place. Next month. Providence favoring, I shall probably go to the White Hills. Afterwards I hope to see you at home." Writing again, July 3, he says, " While it continues as safe and pleasant here as at present, I shall not think of leaving Boston, ex- cept on short excursions about the suburbs. My friend Stimpson is ready to accompany me to the White Hills, either immediately, or after the 19th : as at present advised, I prefer the latter. It is said that there has been a great rush that way, in consequence of the fear of the cholera having driven visitors from their usual resorts to the Springs, «fec. Primitive mountain districts have generally been exempt from those visitations of mortal disease ; and I under- stand that neither Switzerland nor the Granite Hills have known much about it. This is a consideration, however, which is calculat- ed to increase the company as the season advances ; and we shall expect to find the peaks more populous than usual, and perhaps more than is comfortable, as the accommodations are rather straitened." July 15, he again resumes these personal sketches : " We went down to Marblehead and Pliilip's Beach one day, to find some re- fuge (from the heat.) Another day I spent at Nahant. A third I sat on the Common, by the fountain, to catch what I could of the breeze, such as it was. ... I am going to the Point at South Boston for a week or two, with wife and Mary, to try sea bathing. Then I expect to set out for the Wliite Hills ; and, after that, shall set my face homeward." 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 437 In his letter of the 23d he mentions an ill turn experienced by his little daughter Mary, which had given him much anxiety. She had formerly had a similar turn while visiting at New Haven ; and, in both instances, it seemed unlike an ordinary fainting fit, as she fell heavily upon the floor, and remained for a few moments un- conscious. " But (he says) she soon revived, and, except some slight injury from the fall, seemed to suffer no inconvenience. Of course, however, it keeps us anxious." On the last day of July, he writes, " We have come in from South Boston, and I am preparing for our departure to the White Hills on Thursday. I should prefer to remain till after the great Fast ; but am at the disposal of my friend Mr. >Stimpson, who can only order it thus. ... I shall send you word, as we go, of our movements. We shall make our plans as we go along. At present, I only know that our purpose is to go to Claremont on Thursday, and there remain until the following Monday." Accordingly, he writes his next letter from Claremont, where he spent the national Fast and the following Sunday. " I am in the company, as you know, of my friend and parishioner, Mr. F. H. Stimpson, who bears all the expenses of the journey. His connec- tions in this beautiful town have been very kind and hospitable, and I have enjoyed our quiet sojourn here exceedingly. I fancy that my health is somewhat improved. To-morrow, at noon, we pur- pose to take up our line of travel to Wells River by railroad ; thence to Littleton by stage. How we shall get to Franconia, and thence to the Notch, are questions which I cannot resolve ; but shall apprise you, through my wife, as we proceed." Under date of " Franconia Notch, Wednesday morning, August 8," he writes to his wife and friends, " We left Wells River in a stage with but three passengers, over a charming road, for which privilege we paid double fare. . . . We dined at Littleton, twenty miles from my last mail, on the Great Amonoosuck. At half past one we left in a buggy, and a carpet bag contained our duds. At four o'clock we were in this wild spot. Compared with all that I have had to look upon in past days, niethinks I have seen no scenery before. We were in luck ; as, being in advance of the mail, we secured one of the best sleeping rooms in the house. Large parties came in afterwards, and there were more than fifty at tea. We found no acquaintance among them, however. The first persons we overtook on our way to the house were Rev. Messrs. Noble and Kidney, who had just reached there before us. They are truly very choice spirits. . . . They have been footing it all round here for this fortnight, and have wonderfully gained in strength and health by the excursion. May it be so with me. . . • Fran- conia is the place, you know, for the long thermometers. It was very cool here yesterday. At evening, the fire in the bar room is 4;>3 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849. comfortable. At sunrise, this morning, the glass was at forty-eight, but probably much lower in the night. . . . After breakfast, we shall pass on five miles farther, to the Flume House, — probably dine there, — and return to Littleton to-night. To-morrow, we take a fresh start in the stage for Crawford's Notch House, where we shall hope to find letters." With the exception of some brief notes in his journal, but few particulars of this pleasant excursion can be collected. " Sunday, August 12. Rain all day. At eleven conducted service in the httle parlor, and read Wilmaivis's sermon on the Christian Scholar. Spent most of the day in my room. Sore throat came on in the evening ; the effect, doubtless, of the dampness. Monday, 13. Rain held up after dinner. We rode through the Notch. Left our chaise at the foot of the descent, and walked to Crawford's Notch House. To ascend the mountain to-morrow, if the weather permit. Tues- day, 14. Promise of a clear day. After breakfast, set off with seven others in company, besides our guide, for the summit. Woods very wet. Seven hours ascending, by ' Old Crawford's ' road. Few views by the way. Returned in the mist and rain. Wednesday, 15. Waited all day for a chance to get to Conway. Limbs rather weary. After dinner, rode to Conway. Arrived at ten. Glorious view, before sunset, of the White Hills, Pequaket Mountain, Conway Peak, ifec. Thursday, 16. Beautiful morning. By stage to Centre Harbor. Fine ride. Conway Peak, in all its aspects, for many miles. At the harbor to dine. Crossed the lake. Railroad to Concord. Friday, 17. Early breakfast. At six, set out towards Boston. At Nashua, parted with my friend Mr. Stimpson, and went to Groton junction, whence I took the Fitchburg railroad to Montague. Thence by stage to Greenfield." His next letter to his father is under date of Greenfield, Satur- day, August 18 : " Having been brought safely on my way thus far, I drop a line, in haste, to acknowledge the receipt of yours at the White Mountains, and to say, that I hope to meet wife and Mary at Springfield, and proceed to the parsonage in New Haven in the train that leaves there soon after one, on Monday. Under the shadow of the paternal roof, we will recount our journeyings and rest a while." It was during this brief visit to Greenfield that the following lines were written. To those who are not familiar with the localities of that town, a word of explanation is necessary. He had been climb- ing a steep but thickly-wooded hill, which, overlooking on opposite sides the town and the valley of tlie Connecticut River, presents on the west a rocky and almost perpendicular descent to the plain on which the village stands. A projecting rock which overhangs this precipice is known as " Tiie Poet's Seat." The ladies of the party entlironed him there, and, standing on the higher summit of the 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 439 rock, called on him to compose some verses for them. Tlie result was AN APOLOGY. Emerging from the storied wood, Enforced, I took the poet's seat ; Inspiring faces o'er me stood, And Greenfield lay beneath my feet. With lulling sound, I heard fast by The unseen river's broken flows. And all things seemed to multiply One image of serene repose. I little thought, 'mid musings vain, How like that stone to fate of bard — Rich visions floating round his brain. But ah, his seat, so lone and hard ! Of friendship and of feeling full, How little, in his weakness, dreamt he That head and fancy both were dull. And, like his rocky inkstand,* empty ! But the rest so fondly anticipated in the letter just quoted was scarcely realized. He arrived at New Haven with his wife and daughter at the time specified ; not, however, to enjoy much quiet or repose. In consequence of the great prevalence of sickness and mortality in the parish, his father's time and attention were so wholly engrossed by painful and exciting duties that scarcely a mo- ment was afforded for social enjoyment. Meanwhile the infirmity in his face had become exceedingly troublesome ; and, to add to his anxiety, he received intelligence from Boston which convinced him that his presence might be required in his parish. The following extract from a letter of the 25th to the Misses Tarbell shows the state of his feelings at the time : " I cannot say that my difficulty is any better, nor do I think it likely to be, simply by inglorious inac- tion. I purpose, before I return, to go to Northampton, and make some inquiries about the water cure. Whether any thing will grow out of my visit, I cannot tell. ... It will be my desire to be in my own place on the first Sunday in September, unless I have counsel to the contrary. The tidings of affliction and mortality among our dear flock make me very sad. I would I had been there." Under these circumstances, therefore, it was thought de- sirable to shorten the visit, and return at the end of a single week. * A little hollow in the rock is so named. 440 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849. His wife and daughter passed on directly to Boston, while he lin- gered for a day or two at Hartford, for the purpose of consulting some of his friends who had advised him to visit the water-cure estahlishment at Northampton, before his return to his parish. Writing to his father on tlie 29th, he says, " It was my purpose to go to Northampton to-day, and stay as long as I could ; but I had a letter from home last evening informing me that my assistant was taken ill on St. Bartholomew's day, — threatened with cholera, — was unable to officiate on Sunday, — and, though apparently well again yesterday, would be, it was feared, unable to go on alone any longer. It was thought best to let me know the facts, that I might act according to my own judgment. I think I had better return to-day. If not, I shall go to-morrow, after looking about at North- ampton to-day. But I cannot see that this last will be of any use ; and while I write, my mind preponderates in favor of an immediate return." His next letter is from Boston, on Friday, the 31st : " You will be surprised, but, I trust, glad, to hear that I am so soon safely home again. My stay at Northamptcni was sufficient to satisfy me that it was not worth while for me to remain. I was indeed delighted with the prospect from Round Hill ; but the town was as sickly as the view was beautiful. Indeed, all the doctors were among the invalids, and unable to comply with the demand, ' Physician, heal thyself!' My judicious friend who accompanied me was entirely of my opinion that there are no benefits of bathing or exercise that would not be open to me with greater advantage here, and at less risk. The universal spread of this epidemic, ma- lignant dysentery, is indeed appalling. But in the interior, amid the luxuriant vegetation of the Cormecticut valley, and the miasma in consequence, the effects must be greatly aggravated. Persons from the seaboard can hardly remain a day or two at Northampton without resort to opium and camphor- From this time until the frost sets in strong, there is no place in the world, probably, more healthy than Boston. Those who have remained here for the sum- mer, thus far, are among the healthiest people that I have met with. May God speedily restore the land to its wonted salubrity." September 3, he writes, " The weather is so clear and cool, that we trust the sickness will abate. As with you, there are all around us bleeding and bereaved hearts ; and it is indeed a gloomy season. I have been sent for to attend a funeral at Deer Island to-morrow ; and go, as in duty bound, trusting that the God whom we serve faithfully will preserve us from all peril." September 10, after alluding rather sadly to his complaint in his face, he adds, "I am beginning to patronize the riding school, and look for some advantage from the jolting. Whatever may be the result, I shall not give up working again, unless it be for a voyage abroad, or something of the kind, of which there is but little probability. 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 441 Time, at the longest, is so short, and there is so much to do, I would fain be found doing with my might when the iiiglit cometh wherein no man can work." September 18, he again alludes to his expedients for improving his health : " Equitation grows more and more pleasant. I have hope that it will be useful. I trust that I am gaining. I am very grate- ful for friend Peck's suggestion about a voyage to the West Indies, and his ofter of a free passage. If it should be decided that I must go away, I know of nothing that would be pleasanter, except visit- ing the elder world and the great eastern continent." The following description of a solemn and interesting inci- dent, whicii took place on Sunday the sixteenth after Trinity, and which is very briefly alluded to in his journal, is from an eye witness, who, three years afterwards, communicated it in a note to his father : " The recurrence of this day calls vividly to mind, among those here who participated in it, a service in Christ Church, just three years since, at the close of day. There were present Elmira Tarbell, from the Advent ; a daughter of the late Rev. W. Lucas, of Auburn ; Miss Mary Prescott, and one of her younger brothers, from your own parish ; Helen C , and my- self, formerly of Clirist Church ; and the pastor, whose sweet influ- ences linked us, one and all, in a conmion bond of interest. As we stood around the chancel, he remarked, ' It seems fitting, in a place like this, to offer some act of worship ; ' and, leaching a Prayer Book from the altar, he selected the 122d Psalm of David in metre, and then, kneeling, repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the two peti- tions from the Institution office, and applied them specially to the then rector and congregation of Christ Church. Touching and impressive as was the circumstance at the time, how much more so now, as time wears on, and his loving spirit seems brooding in many holy places, especially in those whose representatives were then clustered about him ! " About a year since, and perhaps for the very last time, he whom we mourn was in that sacred edifice. After the service had closed, he went into the vestry ; and as he returned to the church, entered a pew, knelt, and was alone in that posture, as the last of the con- gregation left the porch. Christ Church was at that tiuje without a rector ; and there are those that can bear testimony how his heart yearned over her waste places, and how natural his prayer, ' re- corded in imperishable verse,' in which he says, — ' I ask, dear Church, to see No drought on others' husbandry. But much of dew on thee ! ' " Returning now to his own correspondence, the following is from 56 4B MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849. his letter of September 25 : " We assisted the bishop at the consecra- tion of the new Cliurch of St. Mary's, Dorchester. Some twenty-three of the clergy were present. By reading the lessons, I was allowed to appear in a surplice. Unofficiating brethren, who had no other robes, were not allowed by the bishop to wear the surplice, but were told to take their places among the congregational brethren. It was a very interesting occasion, and the prospects there are high- ly encouraging. The next day, St. Matthew's, was observed at the Advent with the usual solemnities. Seven of the clergy were present, and thirty or forty of the laity at the Holy Communion." Writing again, October 1 , he says, " The last week has been one of many solemn anniversaries to us, domestic as well as ecclesiastical. The touching remembrances of what occurred last year at this time gave a peculiar zest to the services, with which, at morning and evening, we subdued and elevated our minds for the celebration of the feast of St. Michael and All Angels; and we thought of the little one taken from us to behold with its angels the face of our Father which is in heaven. The Holy Communion was administered, as we purpose that it shall be on all the Saints' days ; and though but fifty or sixty were present, it was a most delightful and affecting service. Our protracted meetings increase in interest, and put to shame all modern devices for effecting, what the Church has ever shown, a ' more excellent way.' Good seems to be coming of it every way. " On Friday, October 26, his father, from whom he had been for some time anticipating a visit, arrived in Boston, and, while he remained, participated in all the daily services, besides assisting in the com- munion, and preaching twice on Sunday. But his plans were ma- terially interrupted, and liis father's visit curtailed, by intelligence received from Albany of the death of his sister-in-law, Mrs. Sher- M.vN Croswell. She had been long in a dechning state of health, and her friends had been in daily apprehension of her departure ; but, at this moment, the event was somewhat sudden and un- expected ; for he had very recently written to his father, " Her continuance thus far seems to encourage us to look for a yet longer stay. Our times are in God's hands ! " Immediately on the receipt of this intelligence, he wrote to his cousin at New Haven, " We have just received the telegraphic intelligence of sister Delia's decease. Had there been time and opportunity to have reached Albany before the funeral, we should have gone off together at once. But this was impossible. But father feels so anxious, on every account, to see Sherman, that he thinks he shall leave here for Albany on Wednesday. We should not be at all reconciled to this abbreviation of his visit under other circumstances ; but we cannot but admit the sufficiency of his reasons. We have written to Sherman this evening, to comfort him, and apprise him of his 1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 443 father's intentions." Speaking of the services in the church, he adds, " The enjoyment of the service was saddened, but deepened, by the affliction whose shadow falls so deeply on us all. I would be ^lad to go with father, but I cannot do so now. I hope to be with Sherman in the course of the autumn. Alas ! we do all fade, in- deed, as its leaf" * During the remainder of the year, he seldom alludes to his health, and especially to the infirmity in his face, except by way of apology for the brevity of his communications ; as, for example, November 9, " We are well. My eye is better, really, I think ; but that I may * No apology is necessary for recording in this place the following just and appropriate obituary sketch of the deceased, published in the Albany Argus, and written, as appears from the signature, as well as from internal evidence, by her revered and esteemed pastor, the Rev. Dr. H. Pottek, rector of St. Pe- ter's Chiu-ch : — " Died. — After a very lingering iUness, early on Saturday morning, October 27, in the 39th year of her age, Mrs. Delia Adams, wife of Sherman C!ros- WELL, Esq., one of the editors of the Albany Argus, and daughter of John Adams, Esq., of Catskill. " If it be a duty to commemorate the faithful departed ; if purity, and goodness, and devoted affection, and cheerful kindliness of heart, appearing like a bright light even in suffering ; if a humble yet serene and steadfast Christian faith, which would make death welcome, ay, and suffering welcome too, and drive away aU gloom from the chamber of sickness and death, — if these qualities are worthy to be had in honor in the Church of God, tlien the grave should not be allowed to close over the mortal remains of Mrs. Croswell without some words of affectionate admiration. Hundreds have remarked the innocence, the simplicity, the peculiar charm of manner, the bright and vivi- fying influence which Avent with her through all her life, and whicli was even more remarkable in her days of lassitude and sxiffering than it had been in her days of health ; but who, except those who saw her in the last months of her iUness, and conversed with her as only intimate Christian friends can converse, will ever know any thing of the modest yet firm and all-sustaining faith, the heavenly hope, which took away from her all the terrors of death, made her contented and pleased with all that was appointed for her, and, while slie was as humble as it is possible for a Chi-istian person to be, yet caused her to be so in love with her lot, and so happy in it, that she became a wonder to herself, as she was to all her friends ? Nothing could be further removed from enthusiasm, from presumption, from high pretension, than was her whole character and man- ner, in sickness as in health. What was seen in her sick room w'as the peace- ful and cheerful spirit of one who, with no stain upon her conscience, had seen things temporal and things eternal, so truly as they are, and had come so very near to her heavenly Father, and made the love of Chiist so much her daily study, that, ^\-hile her sympathies and affections Avere as humane and as tender as ever, her tastes and desires were altogether transformed, and she only waiting for that fulness of rest which ensues when this troublesome stage is passed. For this great peace there was a solid foundation ; and to be fuUy aware of the real excellence of her Christian character, it Avas necessary to have looked through the natural gayety of her disposition, and observed the thoughtfulness and the scrupulous fidelity to every domestic and social duty of the daily life — to have seeuAvhat she Avas, in hours of strictest privacy, as a daughter, as a wife, and as a mother. But let us not presume to draAV aside this veil. ' It becomes us to be modest for a modest person ; ' and tlie writer hastens to close this feeble tribute to the worth of one Avho was so lately Avith us, but Avho has noAV gone to join a nobler company, with the expression of his gratitude that he was permitted to be the Avitness of an example so attractive and so cheering, so full of instruction, encouragement, and conso- lation. P"" 444 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL, |1849. hold what I have gained, I must abstain as strictly as may be from writing." The following incidental remark, in a note of November 12, is worthy of record, as serving to show the estimation in which the great New England statesman was held by a disinterested observer: " There is but one Daniel Webster ; and he casts into a prodigious shadow the ordinary race of petty men." November 20, after noting the services of the previous Sunday, he says, " At evening, the bishop summoned clergy and laity to St. Paul's, to hear his sermon, preached at the late anniversary (of the P. E. S. P. E. K.) in Philadelphia. It was a painful exhibition. As it will be published, I suppose, it is needless to attempt an analysis. Suffice it to say, I am not yet convinced that it is our duty to substitute, for our profession of belief in the Creed, ' in the Holy Catholic Church,' ' I believe in the Massachusetts Auxiliary to the Protestant Episcopal Society for the Promoting of Evangeli- cal Knowledge.' The bishop's view of the baptismal office is, that the offering of thanks for the regeneration of the chi'd is altogether hypothetical ; and this, perhaps, explains the reason why the office is so seldom recited at Trinity or St. Paul's." In the same letter, he announces his intention of meeting his brother Sherman at the paternal home on the ensuing Thanksgiv- ing, the 29th. He arrived on the 27th, and his brother on the en- suing day. Their meeting and visit were exceedingly pleasant to all parties ; though necessarily short on his part, as he felt con- strained to be at his post on the great anniversary of Advent Sunday. He returned on Saturday, and on the evening of Advent Sunday he found time to drop a hasty note to his father. After noting the impressive services of the day, which were divided between his as- sistant, Mr. Prescott, and himself, he adds, " I brought back from this visit to New Haven very precious recollections ; and I felt that none had for many years been more profitable. Mother thought me sad and depressed at times ; but it was with that sort of sad- ness with which one is made better and wiser. To tell the truth, my mind was brooding over all that I had called up by the empty tread of the desolate rooms of our old residence, in which I had wandered and peopled the waste places with thick-thronging memo- ries. [This was the house in Orange Street, in which his family resided during his boyhood, and in which his brother George and his sister Jane had died. It being at the time without inhabitant, he procured the key, and paced every room and place which had once been so familiar.] I had long desired, too, to arrange George's remains, but had hardly courage to do so till this opportunity was affiirded ; and it was a melancholy gratification to renew and deepen, by that examination, the convictions which I had always entertained of his high claims to the love and esteem with which we regarded 1850.] CHUKCH OF THE ADVENT. 445 him while living, and shall always cherish his memory, until (as I pray by God's grace) we are united again by closer, more spiritual and indissoluble bonds, in an everlasting brotherhood. Eldest, brightest, and best — how far short have we come of his early promise ! ' Alas ! the good die first ; And those whose hearts are dry as summer dust Burn to the socket.' I am very anxious that Sherman, before he returns, should conclude upon some plan of setting the things in order on the churchyard lot, which holds so much sacred dust." In his next letter, December 16, he speaks of Mr. Hudson, who had acquired a high reputation as a lecturer on Shakspeare, as having been admitted to the sacred order of Deacons in the Church ; and being at this time a resident of Boston, he adds, " He will put his light in our candlestick. We shall have three services on Sunday, with his help, and shall each have our turn. Being Ember week, and the feast of St. Thomas being celebrated with the ad- ministration of the eucharist, we have much of solemn public duty ; and it will not be diminished much, if at all, for many weeks to come. I feel quite relieved of any anxiety, however, through fear of not being sustained. A threefold cord is not easily broken." The record of the year is concluded with a few extracts from a letter written during the intervals of duty on Christmas day : " Yesterday I had a pleasant duty in distributing some forty or fifty dollars in alms — though rather a hard time to set ' traps to catch sunbeams.' To-day we had very interesting servi-ces — the congre- gation was large — and the evergreens, which were put up yesterday after morning prayer, very thickly woven together, and in excellent taste. We had Dr. Eaton, Mr. Prescott, and Mr. Hudson assist- ing— the music was inspiring — and the offertory not unworthy of the occasion. Nine o'clock. Have just returned from our second service, where Mr. Prescott gave us one of his best and most appropriate sermons. There were not so many jiresent as there ought to have been ; but the few, doubtlesSj felt that it was good for them to be there." 1850. " A HAPPY new year to you all ! " is the salutation with which he opens the correspondence of the year. Though cheerily written, he was actually suffering at the time from slight indisposition ; and 446 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850. several circumstances conspired to give a pensive turn to his musings. According- to his annual custom, he had been gathering up, arran- ging, and filing the papers, correspondence, and other manuscripts of the past year. Many striking changes were thus brought vividly to his mind ; and the memory of departed friends naturally awa- kened a train of solemn reflections on the brevity of life, and the passing away of the years of his own probation. In writing both to his father and brother, he makes some touching allusions to the family burying-place at New Haven, and suggests his intention of procuring, at Mount Auburn, a lot for such of his family as might depart this life in Boston. But apart from all considerations of this nature, he was doubtless somewhat disturbed by the idea that the time had again come for renewing his application to the bishop for an official visitation, with a well-grounded apprehension that the petition would again be denied. In this apprehension he was not mistaken, as the following correspondence will show : — I. Feast of the Circumcision, 1850. Right reverend and dear Sir : Will it be convenient for you to give me notice of an appointment for administering confirmation to such candidates as I may present, in season to be announced to our congregation on the feast of the Epiphany ? With regard to the time, tlie morning of either of the two Sundays preceding Lent would be prefen-ed. As to the place where the service ought to be held, I may be allowed to say that I entertain the same convictions as I have already repeatedly expressed to you. But, without waiving any claim of privilege, I would avoid, at present, reviving controversy ; and if you still decline visiting our parish for this purpose, 1 trust the office will be permitted to take place in your own. With my best wishes for a happy new year, Very sincerely vours in the office of priesthood, W. CROSWELL. Right Rev. Bishop Eastburn. II. Tremont Street, January 3, 1850. Reverend and dear Sir : I have received your note of the 1st instant, and in reply beg to say that I shall be happy to administer confirmation, to such persons as you may present, in Trinity Church. You mention either of the two Sundays preceding Lent as the time you would prefer. As I have jxirposed, however, holding my annual confirmation in Trinity sometime during Lent, I have fixed upon the second Sunday in Lent, in the morning, as the day for confirming both your candidates and those who shall be found ready 1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 447 among tlie parishioners of Trinity Cliurch. This time, being not remote from tliat mentioned by yourself, will, I trust, not be objec- tionable to you. Reciprocating your kind salutation on the commencement of another year, I am faithfully yours, MANTON EASTBURN. Rev. Dr. Croswell. III. Boston, February 23, 1850. Right reverend and dear Sir : It is proper to apprise you that, in compliance with your directions, I shall attend at Trinity Church with many of our congregation to-morrow morning. The service at our church will be omitted. I cannot yet inform you of the precise number of candidates for confirmation ; but I am sorry to say that I find it, year by year, seriously diminished, in conse- quence of the course which you have felt at liberty to pursue, in depriving our parish of the benefits of the Episcopal visitation, con- templated by the canon ; and I should be wanting in a sense of what is due to my own rights as a presbyter under your jurisdiction, " not justly liable to evil report, either for error in doctrine or viciousness of life," as well as what is due to those of the laity of our parish, constituted an integral part of the diocese, entitled to representation in the convention, and to the enjoyment of the same canonical pi-ovision and privileges as any other parish in it, if I did not once more enter my solemn protest against these proceedings, as 1 have dojie against similar proceedings in fornjer years. As ever, your faithful presbyter, W. CROSWELL. The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, Bishop of Massachusetts. '-(j -q; On this new arrangement with the bishop he offered no special comment. He merely mentions it in his letter to his father, January 7 : " I have negotiated with the bishop for a confirmation of our candidates at Trinity Church, on the second Sunday in Lent, February 24, being the feast of St. Matthew the apostle. I hope that I shall have a considerable number to bring, and such as shall be accounted worthy when tried by the balance of the sanctuary." While he was diligently pursuing his pastoral duties, and, with the assistance of Mr. Prescott and Mr. Hudson, oftering daily prayers, morning and evening, and holding three services on Sundays, he was again brought into severe affliction. January 14, he writes, " The last week has been a sad one. We have been in the midst of ' deaths oft.' That of our dear friend Dr. E. H. Robbins has overwhelmed us with grief. ... So unexpected was it, that I was not aware until the last day that he was sick at all. I was at 448 MEMOIR OF WILLLA.M CROSW^ELL. [1850. Brookline, dining with Mr. Clark, when a messengei* came to summon him to the doctor's bedside. It was too late for any communication. But there is every reason to suppose that this event did not take him unawares or find him unprepared. He had spoken very freely with his child and friends of his convictions that he should not live long ; and the tenor of his daily walk was his best preparation. He had a warm heart, and was a deviser of the most liberal things — a pattern of disinterested benevolence — truly devout, without the slightest pretence — full of good deeds — a lover of hospitality, and a lover of good men. His funeral was attended by a concourse on Saturday, many of whom will be ready to rise up and declare his memory blessed. We feel every such loss here to be indeed irreparable. A chief layman of Trinity Church is gone, and with Iiini is buried much of living interest there. Our aged and saintly friend Miss Coffin, now fourscore years old and more, bears her bereavement with wonderful fortitude ; and indeed the whole family exhibit a composure of spirit which nothing but divine aid can impart. I dwell upon this event, for I have not thought of much else since it occurred. ' But welcome fortitude and patient cheer, And frequent sights of what is to be borne, — Such sights, or worse, as are before me here, — Not without hope, we suffer and we mourn.' " The following incidental remark, in a letter of January 28, ex- hibits a trait in his ministerial character which there is a pleasure in recording : " Both P. and H. give me any amount of assistance in the public duties ; but in the more retired and unobserved parts of pastoral functions, — visiting the poor, for instance, — there is little relief from the burden. As little, however, as I wish, and I would be content with less. In these unseen things, after all, the great strength of our calling lies." With reference to the approaching confirmation, February 19, he says, " This being the ' last week of asking ' before confirmation, I am much engrossed with my candidates. I cannot yet tell what the exact number will be ; but I fear that I shall find it seriously diminished in consequence of the bishop's very extraordinary course. Meanwhile there is nothing like stagnation about the interest that is taken in the approaching service ; and as we propose to omit our usual morning service, and to proceed in a body to Trinity Church, I think that the venerable edifice is likely for once to be full." That he was not disappointed in this anticipation, appears from his letter of the 25th : " Yesterday was a delightful day — though 1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 449 not a day of rest precisely, after the fatigues of the week. We rose very early ; had the ante-commuuion office for St. Matthias recited at nine o'clock, at the Church of the Advent. I then ad- dressed the candidates for confirmation ; and, accompanied hy the Rev. Dr. Eaton at the head of the procession, the candidates, with Rev. Mv. Prescott, fell in in close order, and the whole body went on to Trinity Church. There our numbers occasioned some confu- sion ; but we were all seated at last, and the service proceeded. Rev. Mr. Clark read morning prayer. [ sat in the chancel with the bishop, and read the epistle and the preface to the confirmation office. I presented twenty-three, and the bishop reported nine — the whole a little more than filling the chancel rail. . . . The solemnity was impressive, and the services exciting. I felt reason to be gratified with the part which I was permitted to take in it, and witii the character and qualifications of those whom I presented. The bishop omitted the sermon, and made a short, unexceptionable address. Our intercourse was courteous, externally, but nothing more than official exchange of conversation." March 4, he writes, " We have gone one week deeper into the shadows of Lent, and the interest seems to be increasing as we advance. The daily service, particularly on Wednesday and Friday, morning and evening, is well attended." He also speaks of the Sunday congregations, during the day and the evening, as being very large. He concludes, " My health does not seem to suffer from any thing that is required of me at present." March 11 : "It is bright and clear, and the mind sympathizes with the aspects of nature. Day unto day, as usual, uttereth speech; one differing but little from another. I have scarcely any thing to diversify my page withal. Yesterday we had the holy communion, as usual on mid-Lent Simday, and I preached an appropriate discourse on the miracle of the gospel, from the text, Shall God prepare a table in the loilderness ? Can he give bread aho ? Many of our candidates recently confirmed came to the altar. Some, by my advice, wait till Easter — when Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us, and which, like the feast of the Jews, is to us also nigh at hand." He seldom adverts in his letters to the grievous malady in his face; but under this same date he mentions his intention of sub- mitting to some experiments in magnetism, gratuitously offered to him by Dr. Cross : " To-day I commence a course of sittings to Dr. Cross, from which I have reason to anticipate some benefit to my nerves." The advice which the doctor kindly added to these experiments evidently gave him no small degree of encouragement. But it was a hope which he never realized. No treatment seemed ever to arrest the progress of the complaint, or afford him any material or permanent relief The cause lay too deep for the reach of human skill. 57 450 MEMOIR OF \VILLIAM CRO SWELL. [1850. Tuesday before Easter, March 26, after ex]ilainino: the delay of his customary letter, he says, " Our occupations arc various, though not very laborious, considering among how many the work is dis- tributed. Sermons, however, must be thought out and put on paper; and in this part of my duty I cannot expect much release from labor. We had a lecture every evening last week ; but my own were derived from a pile which had not yet been in requisition in my new parish. This week we alternate, morning and evening, with sermons ; and the return of this affecting season always suggests a thousand new ones." He acknowledges in grateful and compli- mentary terms the aid afforded him in the Sunday evening sermons by the Rev. Mr. Hudson, while dividing the other services with his assistant, the Rev. Mr. Prescott. But he nevertheless feels the great responsibility resting upon his own exertions. " Hence," he adds, " I am obliged to apply myself this way just about as much as I can bear, and excuse myself to my correspondents gen- erally." His next letter, Wednesday in Easter week, speaks thus of the great festival, and of some of the pleasant things which attended it : " Our church was very full, and a larger number of communicants than at any time before. Offertory large. I have received many Easter gifts, tokens of love and affection, from members of the parish ; and among other grateful ones was a purse from the ladies, to be used in journeying for my health. They are desirous to have me leave at once ; and perhaps I shall be ready to start at the beginning of next week. The only direction that is inviting at this season is a southern one ; and I thought some of going to Washington or Baltimore. I shall, however, come home first." The following acknowledgment of the aforesaid gift is here re- corded with much pleasure : — Boston, Easter Tide, 1850. My dear Friend : I am anxious to let you know, within the octave of the great festival, how grateful I am for the Easter gift of the ladies of the parish ; and before another octave I hope to plume my Easter wings for a flight. I will not, if I can help it, throw any obstacle in the way of what was intended to minister to my health and improvement ; and I shall go the more sanguine of benefit from the conviction that I carry with me the prayers of so many to ' avail much' in securing the blessings of restored health. If, indeed, it be expedient for us that I go away, (and of this I do not pretend to be the best judge,) and I may lawfidly use His high words, I hope that it will be only for a little wiiile, and tbat I may return with strength and will to serve God more faithfully in my ofiice, to the glory of his name and th > edification of his cliurch. Remember me affectionately to each of the subscribers by name ; 1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 451 and desiring the still further continuance of their good offices in the charity of their prayers, Believe me, ever yours in Christ, W. CROSWELL. Miss Mart Callahax, for herself and ladies. He is now found preparing to avail himself of the kindness and liberality of his friends, and forecasting his plans for his anticipated journeyings. These are not very definite. He says, " I am not sanguine in expectations of benefit from journeying merely, think- ing that I need rest rather than excitement, however amusing; and medical treatment perhaps more than either, if I knew what to choose between old and new modes, hydropathy, &c. I should be disposed to go to Northampton for a while, but that the season is too early, and the country very uninviting." He had been through one course with Dr. Cross, without having experienced any essential relief. He expresses his intention of persevering, however, and of continuing through another course at some future time. He pro- poses to proceed on his journey immediately, — stopping at Hartford for a space, and enjoying the society of his friends there, — and then, after making a visit at New Haven, to go on in a southern direction. " I shall, of course," he says, " be glad to avail myself of Mr. CuRTiss's kindness. New York has always ecclesiastical attractions to offer. I shall probably go on to Newark, Burlington, and Philadelphia ; but perhaps no further south, at present." He suggests the possibility of going also to Albany, Troy, and even to Auburn ; but leaves the decision to be governed by circumstances. During his journey, he found but little time or opportunity to keep up his correspondence. His notes are very hasty, containing little else than brief sketches of his daily movements. His first to his father, April 16, is from New York, where he had been for a day or two enjoying the hospitalities of his friend Mr. Curtiss, and meeting with many of his brethren, particularly the Rev. Mr. Coxe, who was also on his way southerly. The next is dated on the fol- lowing day at Philadelphia, where he again met with Mr. Coxe and his travelling companions. The next is from Washington, April 18, in which he says, " I wrote you from Philadelphia. Much to my gratification, Mr. Coxe met me in the cars, and we resumed our iourney together yesterday. I did not perceive any change for the better in the weather as we came this way, nor any more promise of vernal scenery. We arrived at Baltimore — dined — visited the Cathedral, St. Paul's, and the Church of St. Alphonsus — ascended the monument — and left again at five for Washington. We had an exhilarating time, — though the country is forlorn and desolate enough, — and the dome of state met our eager eye not far from seven. Coxe went down to Alexandria, and I to take my 452 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850. ease in my inn, after a long walk to reach it. ... I obtained an introduction to the floor of the Senate at twelve. Previous to that I looked at every thing to be seen about the Capitol, witliin and without, and sat out the whole debate in the Senate ; though, but for the name of it, it would hardly have been more interesting than so much time in our own hall of deputies. I heard most of the great men of the nation say a few words. Webster had been engaged in an argument in the supreme court, and was silent. Clay is still a most persuasive and silver-tongued speaker." Writing on the same day to a friend in Boston, he says, " There is a marked transition from all that we are used to see, after you reach Philadelphia. The style of the dwellings and the pubhc buildings — the universal use of large, white, solid shutters, with bolts and rings to the lower windows, as if it were a garrison town, or one that had its fear of a mob before its eyes perpetually — (as it may well have reason to in this city of brotherly love) — the airy and tasteful style of the ladies' dresses on the promenade — the monotonous correspondence of one block or square to another — the appearance of the black servants at the hotels and houses generally, are among the things , that make you feel a change. . . . We were much struck with the very frequent ' bowing ' of the windows ; that is, setting the shutters at an angle, with crape or ribands at the rings, to indicate bereavement in the household. It was touching to see it at all ; but it was so frequent as to lead one to suppose that there had been here unusual mortality. So much of ceremonial, and of this kind, among a people who do not wear mourning, and who cast off" all outward symbol, is hardly what we should expect. It seems to bring to mind, and perhaps grew out of, the old English habit which led families of distinction to put up funeral hatchments on the walls of their houses during the year of mourning. ... I would like to have all good Christians visit the Church of St. Mark, just completed in Philadelphia, with a school building in the same enclosure, looking like a religious house. . . . We spent an hour or two in Balti- more in saying our prayers in St. Paul's Church, Dr. Wyatt's, which cost, as the guide books say, one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and makes one lament that it had not been more judiciously laid out. It is perfectly anomalous. However, it is much in advance of the Cathedral, where there is the usual disgusting combination of meanness and magnificence — dirt and divinity — which characterize Popish places of worship." Again, on the 20th, after speaking of a pleasant visit to some old friends, he adds, " Last night being the levee night at the White House, we waited on the president, and saw him and all the men of mark." He is now ready for his return ; and on Monday, April 22, dates from Philadelphia: " I arrived here from Baltimore on Saturday evening. Yesterday was a beautiful day ; and 1 worshipped at St. Mark's all day, having spent the inter- 1850.] cthtrch of the ad^^ext. 453 mission witli the rector and a few clergy. I intended to have gone on to Burhngton this afternoon ; but our purpose changes with the changing hour. It begins to rain again, and the weather is fit for nothing but cars and steamboats ; and I purpose to push on to Newark in the half past four o'clock train, expecting to be there about eight. St. Mark's day I expect to spend in New York ; and the next day I hope to return with a glad and gratefid lieart to the haven where I would be. Philadelphia is a delightful city, and I have no wish ever to go south of it." At this time he was expecting his wife and daughter to meet him at New Haven ; and he adds, " In this way we shall be able to spend Sunday and most of the following week together. I am satisfied that short journeys are better for me at present than long, and rest rather than excitement. I do not think it well, either, fi)r me to be absent any considerable time from my parish, however I may make brief excursions." But he was disappointed in this expectation. His wife was too unwell to undertake the journey. After returning, therefore, to New Haven, and making his visit alone, he proceeded to Boston, where he arrived on the 3d of May. " Health and benediction ! " is his first salutation after his return to his post. He found that cares and duties had accumulated in consequence of his absence. "But, notwithstanding," he says, "I feel as if I had received decided benefit from my journey, and my nerves are much steadier than they have been for some time." But whatever benefit may have been derived from this temporary relaxation of his labors, he does nut appear to have followed up his advantage by similar excursions ; for, immediately after his return, he is found diligently employed in his customary duties, and before the expiration of the month, during the absence of his assistant, as appears by his letter, Monday, May 27, he subjected himself to an unusual amount of labor : " I was willing to see what my strength would bear last week, and am happy to find it equal, thus far, to all demands. I conducted the morning and evening service unassisted, besides attending to the other duties, which were not in- considerable, and preacbing on Friday evening. Yesterday (Trin- ity Sunday) we were disappointed by the setting in of the storm, which diminished the numbers in attendance. The congregation was very respectable, notwithstanding, and I administered the com- munion to eighty or more. I was at the Sunday school in the morning, and entirely alone in all the services. In the afternoon, I read service, preached, and attended to the singing of tlie children. 1 am remarkably well to-day. I think I am gradually gaining on my complaint, and hope that I shall be able, by the end of my present engagement, to dispense with any assistance, except from time to time, when I especially need it. ... I »''iy niake a brief visit to Albany. But I shall be absent as i'ew Sundays as 4-54 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CKOSWELL. [:..i.. possible, and I shall not allow myself to be absent for a long time at once." Sunday evening, June 2, he writes, "I wrote you, bright and early, last Monday morning, in a great flow of spirits, having to congratulate myself on having gone on thus far without any assist- ance, or feeling the want of any. . . . This week also 1 have gone on alone, and much to my satisfaction. On Wednesday, 1 was invited to officiate as chaplain to the Medical Society dinner ; and, being called out by the president, made a short speech." This address was extempore, and he appears to have been " quite as much surprised as gratified " at his success. " But," he says, " I felt it due to make a special effort for the doctors of our parish ; and, as the old preacliers say, I had great freedom given me, nor was in any wise straitened." There was no report of this speech; but the following sketch is found, in his own handwriting, of so much of it as his memory could recall : " I feel that I am ventur- ing out of my element. But I cannot forbear taking this occasion to make such poor acknowledgments as I can pay, in behalf of the clergy, for all that we owe to the medical faculty. Sir, I do not allude to personal or professional attentions to me and mine for the last twenty years without fee or reward, though I might speak feel- ingly on that score. Nor do I allude to what I have seen and known of their devotion and self-sacrifice, by niglit and by day, in the obscure chambers of the sick poor, or in the blessed charity of our hospitals. But it is with reference to that reproach of irreligion with which the profession has been sometimes branded, and which made it a common proverb in Digby's time ; though, as he says in a parenthesis, (among those of tlie unlearned sort,) ' Ubi tres medici, duo athei ' — Wherever there are three physicians, two are atheists. However it might have been in other times or other countries, among us, at least, the imputation is entirely unfounded. Taught from my childhood to honor and revere the medical faculty, — represented before my eyes in the person of more than one aged relative, — I have lived to feel that a special tribute of gratitude is due for their stand, as a body, on the side of religion, their promi)t and generous efficiency in strengthening the hands of their clergy, and tlieir rallying to the support of all divine institutions. Sir, 1 speak from heartfelt experience, and I could give many illustrations. To come nearer home, in the humble parish with which I am con- nected, there were at the outset several physicians. The enterprise may, indeed, be said to have originated with them ; and they have been, through all, the pillars of the society. Some years since, we ventured in faith to honor God in restoring his daily worship, morn- ing and evening, in his sanctuary. Our physicians were most for- ward in this good work ; and there has seldom been an occasion, from that day to this, that some of them have not been in attend- 1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 455 ance, and those often in the fullest practice. On the Lord's day, of course, all are habitually in their places, and among oui- most interested and devoted members. Nor is this a peculiar case. The same state of things is observable, only more conspicuously, in the larger parishes of the city with whicli I am most familiar. xVnd I rejoice to see around us distinguished and eminent members of this body whom I have long been happy to recognize as also men famous in those congregations — men of renown, Christian as well as scientific renown. And so it is, I doubt not, generally through our whole commonwealth. So indeed it should be, for so it was in the very beginning. One of the four pillars in the Chris- tian temple was Luke, the beloved physician. As the bosom friend and counsellor of the great apostle in all the perils of his journey, in the tumult at Jerusalem, in his bonds, in his shipwreck, in his imprisonment, and in his last fiery trial, when no man stood by him, but all men forsook him, Luke, and Luke only, was with him. Such was the glorious distinction of Luke, the beloved physician — the model doctor for all generations. If it did not seem to smell too strongly of the cloth, I might be tempted to show what pains the Church had taken, for fourteen hundred years at least, to honor and embalm his memory, to keep it alive and green, in her solemn annual commemorations on the 18th day of October, to invite every Christian physician to unite with us on that day in keeping up its edifying observance, and to press his character now upon the imita- tion of those who, with the treasures of his cultivated mind, have the same professional advantages for distinguishing between the natural and supernatural, in those mighty works of wonder and of love which are recorded by St. Luke as the foundation of man's belief in all ages." In the same letter, he writes, " The next day, Thursday, I offi- ciated at the church, at the funeral of Mr. Pelby, the manager of the National Theatre. Never was there such a concourse as as- sembled on that occasion, and every thing was done decently and in order. The service was very impressive ; and the profession seemed to be, many of them, much affected. I have received many tokens of their grateful appreciation of my ministrations. On Friday of both weeks I have preached a sermon at the evening service ; have preached on both Sundays, and admin- istered tlie Holy Communion on both days to unusual numbers. To-day, Rev. Dv. Eaton assisted me in distributing the elements. I have tested my strength, and find it equal to all that has been required of it. 1 indulge the expectation, that at the end of this term I shall be able to dispense with any assistance." Having anticipated some enjoyment in seeing Gliddon's mummy unrolled, he tells of his disappointment in these terms, June 7: " Gliddon has made the most of his show. It turns out that the 456 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850. mummy is not a mammy, after all. The young priestess is a man buried by accident in the wrong box, which mars the sentiment of the thing, much as a lubberly boy in women's clothes. It was an interesting spectacle, notwithstanding." In a letter of .Tune 14, he speaks of taking, at his earliest conven- ience, an excursion to Albany, Troy, and Auburn. And in one or two subsequent letters, he expresses a hope, rather than any confi- dent expectation, of accomplishing his wishes. He was unable, on account of his absorbing cares, to attend the annual commencement of Trinity College, and was often obliged to apologize for the brev- ity of his weekly communications to his father. August 5, he says, " I have only time for hints. I have been quite alone this last week, making, yesterday, the eleventh Sunday since my assistant left me. Whit Sunday was his last appearance. . . . Apart from duty to the Church, I must indulge a little in idleness, and refrain even from good words, though it were pain and grief to me." But, having subsequently made arrangements for a brief absence from his parish, he left on Monday, September 2, with his wife and daughter, and having parted with them at Springfield, where they took the cars for New Haven, he proceeded to Albany. He also visited Troy and Utica, but went no farther west, on ac- count of the limited time allowed for his absence. He returned by the way of New Haven, where he again joined his wife and child, and arrived at Boston on Saturday, September 14, after an absence of only thirteen days, during which he had met a great number of his friends, and passed through many interesting and exciting scenes. At Albany, on the 3d, he was present at the consecration of the Church of the Holy Innocents by Bishop Whittinghaivi. While at Utica, he visited Trenton Falls, " and had," he says, " a fine ramble about the ravines of the falls, which were seen to the best possible advantage from being swollen into a torrent of turbulent power by the late rain." On Sunday, the 8th, he attended the ser- vices of the Chapel of the Holy Cross, at Troy ; and again, on Tuesday, he was present, with some twenty clergymen, at the anni- versary of the Bible and Prayer Book Society, in the same church. But notwithstanding the fatigue and excitement of this journey, he returned to his post, and again entered upon his duties on Sunday, the 15th, and not only officiated all day without assistance, but at evening, when all was over, found time to address a short letter to his father. " I really feel," he says, " very nuich benefited by my journey and the return of the cool weather; and the duties of the day, which I have conducted alone, have set very lightly upon me. All things have gone on as T could most have desired in my absence, and all seem glad of my return." From this time to the close of the year his letters are chiefly con- fined to private and domestic matters, and few incidents remain to 1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 457 be recorded. In October, having been invited to attend tlie nup- tials of a daughter of an early friend and classmate, he ])assed a day or two at New Haven, and on his return he persuaded his father to accompany him to Boston. This visit, though short, in- cluding the Feast of St. Luke and one Sunday, was nevertheless made an occasion of mutual gratification ; more especially as his father was enabled, by taking nearly the whole burden of the ser- vices, to afford him, for the time being, the relief which he very much needed. Nor did he forget, at the earliest opportunity, to acknowl- edge the obligation. Writing to his father immediately after this exchange of visits, he says, " It seems to be the universal impres- sion, that it will be your duty to make up for our lack of episcopal visitations by coming on quarterly, or semiannually at least,, and doing for us what our bishop will hardly be able to do for any par- ish. . . . Your appearances will make red-letter days in the calendar, to whose returns we shall look forward with increasing interest as years wear on." During the autumn, the Rev. Samuel Farmar Jarvis, D. D., spent a few weeks in Boston, for the purpose of superintending the publica- tion of the first volume of his Ecclesiastical History — the great work on which he had bestowed many years of labor. At this time his health was much impaired, and his eyesight had become so defec- tive, that his friends began to entertain fears that he might not be spared to see even this first volume through the press. Under judicious medical treatment, however, he so far recovered as to be able to attend to the business which called him to Boston, and to join in the daily worship, and occasionally to preach in the Church of the Advent. In several letters the rector speaks of him in terms of great veneration and aftection. He mentions an extem- pore discourse on Advent Sunday as " a solemn and impressive ser- mon," Again, of his sermon on the following Sunday, he says, Dr. Jarvis gave us an impressive and interesting lecture on one of the prophecies of Isaiah ; and though much broken, his power is still considerable, and he was listened to with marked attention. I think that the doctor has enjoyed his visit here very greatly; and the Church of the Advent has been the channel through which much of this enjoyment has come." Finally, writing on the 15th, he says, " Dr. Jarvis left on Friday, after making a very pleasant visit, both to us and himself. He purposes to go on to Buffalo about the 20th, to spend Christmas with Gen. Porter at Niagara Falls." In con- nection with this visit, the doctor had engaged, should his health permit, to deliver a lecture before the Young Men's Institute at Buffalo. But in all these anticipations he was disappointed by an afflictive stroke of Providence. He had proceeded no farther than Troy, before he became dangerously ill, and was compelled to return to his home in Middletown, where, after a lingering and 58 4o? MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. distressing sickness, he expired in the latter part of the ensuing March. The close of this year was also marked by another afflictive dis- pensation, in the death of the Rev. Isaac Boyle, D. D. He was a clergyman of great personal worth, and possessed fine talents and extensive attainments. But in consequence of extreme deafness and other infirmities, he had been for some years disqualified for the gen- eral performance of the public duties of his calling. In social inter- course, however, he was among the most interesting of men — bril- liant in wit, and rich in all the varied gifts of conversation. The rector of the Advent had been much in his company, and always treated him with the utmost respect and veneration. He relates the circumstances of his sickness and death with much feeling. December 2 : "I was at Dr. Boyle's this morning, and found him dying and unconscious. I read the commendatory prayer. He was attacked on Friday very violently with convulsions, and is dropping off in a fatal stu- por, from which he will never be roused again in tliis world. His end, happily, will be that of the righteous." November 9 : " Dr. Boyle died last week, and was buried from Trinity Church on Thurs- day last. I loved him dearly, and mourn his loss very sincerely — to tlie Church, not less than to myself. What stores of accumu- lated learning and wisdom seem to be lost with him, at least, to sight ! though I cannot believe that such treasures are for this life only." 1851. The reader may judge of the emotions of the biograplier on opening the record of this eventful year — the year that brouglit to a sudden termination the labors of this faithful and devoted servant of Christ. He was now advancing rapidly to his rest and to his reward. Of this he was happily entirely unconscious. Notwith- standing the plain indications of an increase of his infirmities, he entered upon the duties of the year with all his accustomed zeal and ardor, without abating one jot or tittle of his manifold labors. In a note, January 3, 1851, to some ladies of his parish, acknowl- edging the gift of a beautiful inkstand, he says, " In my own case, I dare only hope that this foiuitain will never lend its aid to frame one sentence, which, dying, I would wish to blot ; and that its last office, like this its first, may be to record the Christian affection that binds me to those whom I have ever found in all trials ' kind hearts and true.' " In his first letter to his father, dated on Sunday evening, .lanuary 5, he says, " I do not write because I have time to 1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 4J3 say mucli, but to keep up a good liabit, in which I hope to perse- vere through the coming year, of securing a few moments on Sunday evening for this duty. May it be an acceptable year of the Lord to us all. . . . The last week has been a busy one. I had to encroach on Saturday night more than my wont to get ready for to-day. I prepared myself to preach both parts of the day, aid have had the whole service and a large communion. To-morrow, being the feast of the Epiphany, the same interesting duty will be repeated. I feel remarkably well this evening, and so indeed are we all. It is not expedient, however, to use the quill much ; and you will, I am sure, take the will for the deed." Again, on the 12th, in a short note written between the afternoon and evening services, he says, " The day has been fine for the season. I have been unassisted, but feel quite fresh and vigorous for the balance. We open to-night, for the first time this season." On this occasion, however, he had the aid of the Rev. Dr. Edson, in the sermon, of which he speaks in the highest terms of gratification. On the fol- lowing Sunday, he was again alone .and unassisted during the day; but he had the benefit of the Rev. Dr. Francis Vinton's services in tiie evening, who preached, by a])pointment, an impressive ser- mon in behalf of the Seamen's Mission ; and before the next ensu- ing Sunday, his father came to his relief. This visit included the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, the 25th, and the third Sunday after the Epiphany, the 26th. On both of these occasions, as well as in the daily service, his father bore a principal part — delivering a short address on St. Paul's day, and preaching three sermons on Sunday. One or two incidents connected with this visit, of which he had previously apprised his father, gave peculiar interest to the occasion. Of the first, he writes in this manner : " Mr. ex- pects to have his child baptized ; and as his name is to be ' Harry,' he would be pleased, if it were not presuming, to have you stand in his behalf. It will be the first of the name that I have ever bap- tized." In relation to the other, he mentions an invitation to " an evening parish party of gentlemen " at the house of one of the leading members of his parish, and adds, " Understand, that this is simply an evening assemblage of those exclusively who are connected with our parish, to afford them an opportunity of seeing each other under pleasant circumstances and free from all constraint, and of giving all an opportunity of seeing you. The effect of such a gath- ering occasionally is, doubtless, very happy ; and in the present posture of our afl^airs, may be peculiarly salutary." In both cases, these invitations were complied with, and were made the occasion of much niutual enjoyment ; and the hope was expressed, that such visits might be often repeated in the course of the year. But it did not please a wise Providence so to order. This was the last visit that he was permitted to receive from his father during his life. 460 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [185L On the first Sunday in February lie bad the assistance of the Rev. Dr. Hale, president of Geneva College, in the sermon for the afternoon, and the Rev. Mr Stickney in the evening. And on the following Sunday afternoon be was favored with a sermon from the Rev. Mr. Tremlett, from the British provinces, who had come to Boston with the expectation of preaching in the newly-formed parish of St. Botolph, but had been peremptorily forbidden by the bishop, on the ground of some technical informality. Thus, by a kind Providence, did he obtain from his brethren, from different quarters, much seasonable relief. He was also kindly favored, es- pecially by the Rev. Mr. Stickney, in the daily service. But still the constant recurrence of these services, with, a good amount of pastoral duty, undoubtedly overtasked his powers. Hence it was deemed expedient, if not absolutely necessary, to seek occasional relaxation in short excursions among his friends abroad. Accord- ingly, availing himself of the companionship of a friend, and leav- ing the parish in charge of his brother Stickney, he absented himself for a few days, proceeding from Boston to. Hartford on Tuesday, the 18th, thence to New Haven on the 19th, and to New York on Saturday, the 22d. Here he spent the Sunday ; returned to New Haven on Monday, and to Boston on Tuesday, the •24th — thus, in the compass of a single week, visiting many dear friends, and drawing from his social intercourse with his family and bretii- ren a large amount of enjoyment. From his own representation, it is to be presumed that he also derived much benefit from the excursion. Writing on the Sunday evening after his return, March 2, he says, " I found myself very fresh and vigorous after my ride." After speaking of having rented a larger and better house than the one in which the family had hitherto resided, and of the laborious preparations for removing, he adds, " The parish continues to be healthy and prosperous ; and I hope to have a large class of can- didates for confirmation. To-day I have been preaching twice, in preparation for Lent. I had a little assistance in the morning from Rev. Dr. Eaton and Rev. Mr. Monroe ; but this afternoon I was quite alone, administering holy baptism, over and above the usual exercises. Our church was very full this morning, and the largest number at communion that had ever attended at once." Hi snext letter, first Sunday evening in Lent, is somewhat taken up with an account of his moving, w hich, he says, tliey all consider as a " very suitable occupation for the season — a penitential discipUne." But he anticipates a great improvement in their household enjoyments. "The daylight," he says, "is just beginning to shut in; but before it is quite gone, I must try to find time to jot down the engage- ments of the week. All the time not otherwise occupied in pasto- ral duty has been given to this moving task — most profitable to keep one in mind that we are dwelling in tents, as strangers and 1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 461 pilgrims, looking, I trust, for the building of God, the house not made with hands, among the many mansions opened for us by our Savior. We had two solemn services on Asli Wednesday. I liad a little assistance at the second from Rev. Mr. Lambert, but did all the preaching. . . . Mrs. Grosvenor had kept me apprised, down to Thursday or Friday, of poor Dr. Jarvis's condition. I am expecting every mail to hear that he has fallen asleep. Good old man ! his cup has been very full of sorrow and sore trouble ; but he has drank it to the dregs, like a Christian. He will enter paradise, I firmly believe, as a vessel fitted, in the furnace of afflic- tion, for the Master's use, to everlasting honor, while the Church on earth will long have reason to mourn his loss. The death of Dr. Ogilby deprives us of another choice treasure, to be added to what was before laid up in heaven." His next letter is dated from 31 Green Street, March 17, in which he says, " The discouraging work of moving was safely accompHshed last week, and we are in our new house, and chaos is gradually giving place to the genius of (jrder ; and now that we are fairly able to judge of what the ad- vantages of the change really are, we can hardly overestimate them." He closes this letter with an urgent appeal to his parents to come and visit him : "And now, when the time of the singing birds shall have come, and these rough winds softened down to a vernal sweetness, and the St. Michael's pear tree," (standing in his yard,) " which for fifty years has put forth its green leaves, un- changed amid all the changes round it, and as if it were still in the midst of the garden, shall have blossomed once more, we shall hope that mother and you will indulge us in one more visit together ere life's stage is left." It is imnecessary to pursue the details of his daily and weekly labors, as given in his correspondence and journal. He frequently acknowledges the aid of his visiting brethren ; and he generally speaks in terms of encouragement of the continuance of the health of himself, as well as the family. One or two short passages from his letter of March 24 will serve to show how readily his sympa- thies were awakened by every passing case of mortality or distress : " I am expecting to hear by every mail that Dr. Jarvis has fallen asleep. The last accounts were very discouraging. Death has lieen very busy this last year among our ranks ; and some of his victims have been ' bright and shining marks.' I have just been to see the books, pictures, and paintings which have been sent home from the 3Iediterr{yiean, the relics of our old and dear friend Searle. It is a melancholy errand, and almost makes me sick." Again, in reference to the case of apparent decline in the health of a young man, the son of a very particular friend, who had just en- tered upon the business of life, with every reasonable prospect of prosperity, happiness, and usefulness, he says, " His friends may 462 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^VELL. [1851. well be anxious, lest he should wither away under it. How often, alas ! in all schemes of human felicity, all is destroyed by a worm in the bud." Before the date of another letter, (Mid-Lent, Sunday evening,) he had been apprised of the death of Dr. Jarvis, and had been invited to attend his funeral. " This," he says, " I should have been glad to do, if a day had intervened before Sunday ; but I feared the effect of the excitement and exhaustion ; and I needed to be the stronger, as the Holy Communion was celebrated, as usual, on this day, at our church, and I had no reason to expect assistance. Meanwhile, I did such honor as my means would ad- mit to the doctor's memory, in my sermon this morning, much to the satisfaction of a large congregation." In this letter, he again recurs to the case of Rev. Mr. Searle : " I feel the weight of those bereavements the more, since the Rev. Mr. Searle's sermons, letters, and private papers were quite unexpectedly put at my dis- posal by his friends this last week." Some two weeks had elapsed since his effects had been received from the Mediterranean ; and he concludes, if they should not be claimed by his friends, he should call in the aid of the Rev. Mr. Lambert, Mr. Searle's successor in the Navy Yard ; and after selecting such as they should think meet to preserve, should commit the rest to the flames. Writing on Sunday evening, April 6, he says, " Dr. Eaton, who was with me, was quite overcome with faintness, and obliged to leave at the close of the morning service, and before the ante- communion. I was quite startled, at the moment — the number of sudden deaths of late having been very alarming. But I was quite i-elieved to hear that it was but temporary." Wednesday before Easter, April 16. " We had three services on Palm Sunday, of which I bore the unassisted burden ; and after all was over, was in conference with Mr. John P. Tarbell, about bearing him company, in an absence of sixty days, to Havre and the Rhine — the voyage being necessary, in his own case, to recruit his health ; and the time of sailing being fixed for Easter Tuesday." On consulting his medical and other friends, he concluded to decUno this kind proposal. " A voyage," he says, " in the abstract, it is admitted, on ail hands, would be of service ; but it is thought that two voyages, with such a short interval between, filled up with the unavoidable excitement of Parisian life, in the mean while, would not be just the thing. ... I am satisfied that brief absences, ministering to repose, are best for me and all inl^erests here. I think now, if all things should favor, that I might spend a few days with my brother at Albany, and perhaps get out to Auburn before my return. But all as yet is conjectural. Brother Stick- NEY is with me at the services of this solemn week ; and I continue to be very well, the ' jerks ' (the disorder in his face) excepted." 1851.1 CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 463 This is doubtless the proper place to insert another, and his last^ correspondence with his bishop on the subject of confirmation : — 31 Green Street, Friday, April 11, 1851. Right reverend and dear Sir : Will you do me the favor to make an appointment for administering confirmation to the candi- dates at the Church of the Advent before the next meeting of the diocesan convention ? I renew the offer made in former years, to place the church and all its arrangements at your entire disposal for the service. Very respectfully, Your servant in the ministry, W. CROSWELL. To the Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts. II. Tremont Street, April 14, 1851. Reverend and dear Sir: Since the receipt of your note of Friday last, I have been examining my list of appointments, in order to ascertain the practicability of appointing some day for con- firming your candidates just before the time of the meeting of the convention, supposing it probable you are not yet ready for the ad- ministration of the rite. I find, however, that from the afternoon of Tuesday in Easter week to the meeting of the convention my time will be continually occupied. I regret the fact, and have therefore to propose, that, if agreeable to you, the confirmation take place on the morning of Tuesday in Easter week. I regret that a sense of duty compels me again to decline com- ing to your church, and to appoint Trinity Church as the place. Divine service to commence at eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Very truly and sincerely yours, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev, W. Croswell, D. D. III. Reverend and dear Sir: A note addressed to you by myself was by mistake dropped into the post office this morning, instead of another letter. I mention this as an apology for any delay which may occur in your receiving it, and also by way of explanation of my communication coming through that conveyance. Very truly, yours, MANTON EASTBURN. Rev. Dr. Croswell. Tremont Street, April 14. 464 MEMOIR OF ^^TLLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. IV. Thursday before Easter, April 17, 1851. Right reverend and dear Sir : In reply to your favor of the 14th, proposing to administer confirmation to our candidates on Easter Tuesday at Trinity Church, instead of the Church of the Advent, I feel obliged to say, that apart from the objection which I have to any other place of worship being substituted for our own, and to any other time than Sunday, I should not be prepared to present the candidates upon so short notice, and at so early a day. As I deem it, however, of the utmost importance that the rite should be administered before the conventional year expires, es- pecially as there will be a considerable number of candidates, per- mit me to inquire if any of the neighboring bisliops who would be willing to administer confirmation at our church, with your permis- sion, might not be allowed to do so. Very respectfully, Your servant in the ministry, W. CROSWELL. The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D. V. Tremont Street, April 21, 1851. Reverend and dear Sir : In my last note to you, I mentioned that engagements, extending from the afternoon of Tuesday in Eas- ter week to the meeting of the convention, precluded the possibil- ity of my confirming your candidates within that period. Since the receipt of yours of Thursday last, I have been enabled to dis- pense with an engagement to which I had appropriated the evening of Sunday, the I8th of May; and I now write to say, tliat I shall be ready on that evening to administer confirmation to those whom you may present at St. Stephen's Chapel. The service will com- mence at half past seven. That God may accompany the occasion with the blessing of his Holy Spirit, is the fervent prayer of Yours, very truly and sincerely, MANTON EASTBURN. The Rev. Dr. Croswell. IV. Boston, Maij 10, 1851. Right reverend and dear Sir : My absence from town has prevented an earlier reply to your favor of the 21st ultimo. While my convictions are still the same as those which I have, year by year, been constrained to express to you, in the way of pro- test, hereby renewed, against your continued neglect of the recog- nized rights of my parish, and your own official obligations in 1851.] CHrRCH OF THE ADVENT. 465 refusing to visit the Church of the Advent, according to the pro- visions of the canon regulating episcopal visitations, I do, notwith- standing, instruct the unconfirmed members of my flock to embrace any opportunity which you may think proper to aft'ord them, of ob- taining access to that apostolic ordinance, under whatever circum- stances of personal inconvenience to ourselves, or of undeserved reproach ; and, according to your appointment, I shall present, with divine permission, such candidates for confirmation as can be in- duced to accompany me to St. Stephen's Chapel, the rector consent- ing, on the evening of the fourth Sunday after Easter, May 18th. Heartily responding to your fervent prayer, that God may ac- company the occasion with the blessing of his Holy Spirit, I am, very sincerely. Your friend and presbyter, W. CROSWELL. Eight Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts During the pendency of this negotiation, he was again absent from his post for a few days, on one of those short excursions which had been recommended by his friends, and for the expenses of which they had generously provided. This excursion began very pleasantly. He first went to Greenfield to attend a wedding — the parties being among the best beloved of his young friends. Thence he accompanied the bridal party to New Haven. Here, and at Hartford, he spent a few days among his friends, and every thing passed off much to his delight. But on returning to New Haveii on Monday, the 5th of May, the scene was sadly changed ; and during the remainder of his visit, he was occupied, by night and by day, in watching over his father, who was taken very suddenly- sick on the very night after his arrival. He thus writes to his wife, May 6 : " We were all much alarmed, last night, that father, sooii after he went to bed, awoke in great pain, with some local difficulty to which the aged are incident. At two o'clock, F. went after the doctor, who remained all night. He obtained but little relief, and the difficulty does not yet yield. The pain, at times, is very intense, and must be very exhausting. The doctor does not seem to be discouraged, but is hopeful that the complaint will soon be abated. Of course, while father is so ill, I can say nothing with regard to my return. I shall hope to be with you again by Thurs- day or Friday, but am obliged to speak doubtfully. I trust to speak more definitely by to-morrow. These pains are too severe to last very long. I dread to anticipate what yet is a possible re- sult." Happily, the most distressing and alarming symptoms in the case soon subsided ; and on Friday his father had become so com- fortable that he ventured to return to Boston. During this visit, his sympathies were also awakened by another 466 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. case, which affected him very deeply. He heard the afflicting in- telligence of the sudden death of Dr. Hobart Curtiss, a son of his friend Cyrus Curtiss, Esq., of New York, a young physician of great promise, who was at the time deputy health officer at Staten Island, and fell a victim to ship fever, contracted while pursuing his duty among the numerous patients at the hospital. The following extract from a letter to the young man's father will show how readily his tears were mingled with those of the afflicted family : " Your peculiar sorrow is one with which not only no stranger in- termeddleth, but the few only who have experienced it can ade- quately appreciate. I remember well the shock when our elder brother died ; but it passed long since into a pensive recollection, rather than a living grief, in my own case. Those who have been intimate with our family know the shadow that then fell upon a father's and a mother's heart, and that it will still fall darkly there as long as life — I mean this life — continues. Miserable comfort- ers, indeed, at such a time, are the words of human lips ; but we know, blessed be God, that, in every such visitation, the heavenly Comforter draws very near to us. To his holy influence your hearts have been habitually open, and they will not be shut now, when broken hearts are yearning to be bound up. Your son has left precious remains behind him. His open, generous, unselfish nature, ever mindful of others, and forgetting his own interest in theirs, endeared him to all who knew him. Humanly speaking, your hopes seem to have perished abortively, and his sun has gone down as it were even before its noon. At any period of life, how- ever, if you were to survive him, it would have been hardly less premature. As it was, he was taken away before he had formed any of those ties which enhance the pain of parting — while all his affections were yet centred about the home of his parents ; and you had the comfort — sad, indeed, but real — of seeing him die in your own household ; ministering with your own hands to his dying needs, and breathing out his last in the embrace of those whom he loved best. These are thoughts, not, perhaps, to assuage grief, but to make it tender, and consecrated, and domestic. May God sanc- tify this great sorrow to every member of your family, and enable you to comfort one another with the words which the Holy Ghost teacheth in the Book of God." After his return from this excursion, he applied himself diligently to the preparation of his class for confirmation ; but of the whole number desirous of receiving this rite, few only were willing to submit any further to the unreasonable — not to say uncanonical — course of the bishop, in refusing to visit the parish for the purpose of administering the office in their own church. At the time ap- pointed, however, at half past seven o'clock in the evening, he went 1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 467 over to St. Stephen's Chapel, and presented his little band of eleven candidates for confirmation. In the subjoined extract from the parocliial report, which he presented to the diocesan convention on tlie Tuesday following, and which, through the mysterious order of Providence, proved to be his last, he records what may be consid- ered, under the circumstances, as his dying testimony and protest against the wrong inflicted, as well on the parish as himself, by the arbitrary and unwarrantable dictation of the bishop. After the customary statistics, he adds, — " This experiment, so called, of a free Church, for the daily worship of God, entirely depending on the voluntary offerings of the worshippers, has been signally successful. The number in at- tendance on the service is steadily increasing, as well as the amount of consecrated alms that go up with our prayers, as a memorial before God, ' on the first day of the week.' " A font and altar, of beautiful proportions and workmanship, after designs by F. Wills, Esq., have been presented to the church since the last report, from funds bequeathed for this purpose by a communicant recently deceased. " The parish are again compelled to complain of the continued denial of their right to episcopal visitation, as contemplated by the canons. The list of candidates for confirmation presented by the bishop's direction at St. Stephen's Chapel, on Sunday evening. May 18,' is smaller, on this account, than it would have otherwise been." These cares being over, he began again to lay plans, though rather indefinite, for future excursions. But day after day passed away ; and though he greatly desired to be on his way, his pa- rochial engagements bound him down to his post. Writing to his father, Sunday evening, June 1, he says, " The day has been very pleasant, and our church full. The communion was one of the largest which I have ever ministered. I have officiated all day, assisted in the morning by good Dr. Eaton, who has quite recovered his health and strength. After the evening service, I went down to Christ Church, which has been closed all day, to marry a couple and baptize an infant. These duties done, I feel quite as fresh as could be expected under tlie circumstances." On the Sunday evening following, (Whit Sunday,) being too much fatigued by the labors of the day to take up the pen, he em- ployed his wife as his amanuensis ; and she gives, in the course of the letter, a sketch of his duties for the week, besides what came upon him daily, viz., four fimerals, three of them in one day, two marriages, and seven baptisms, on four several occasions. His next is a brief letter, under his own hand, expressing his gratification at the recent election of the Rev. Dr. Williams as Assistant Bishop of Connecticut, and announcing his intention of 468 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [185L leaving Boston, on Tuesday, June 17, on a short visit to Hartford and New Haven. They accordingly reached Hartford on the first day, and on the next proceeded to New Haven. Here his wife and daughter were to remain and prolong their visit ; hut he could allow no such indulgence for himself. The following Sunday heing appointed for preaching the Juhilee Sermon, he felt obliged to oc- cupy his own pulpit on the occasion. And as for the sermon itself, that was still to be written. But in this case, as in all others, he found himself equal to the emergency. Withdrawing, from time to time, from the friends by whom he was surrounded, he prepared his discourse, and was ready on Saturday evening to take his de- parture in the night train for Boston. Of the journey, his own letter, written on Sunday evening, will give the best account : " Health and benediction ! Commend me to the cars at night. I shall never cease wondering how we were seated in them at New Haven, at six o'clock in the evening, and set down by midnight in the streets of Boston. Mahomet's supernatural steed could scarce perform more astonishing feats. It would be a miracle, if not so common. I like it better, on the whole, for the dark. It is cooler, and you cannot see the dust, and even doze along ; and then you ar^ not crowded." After a few days of labor, during the oppressive heat of the season, feeling much exhausted, and willing to escape the noise and confusion of the public celebration of the fourth of July, he took the opportunity to make a flying visit to New Haven, where his wife and daughter still remained. Leaving on the morning of the 1st, the journey was accomplished in a few hours. It was not, however, a very quiet visit ; for, on the 2d, he attended the conse- cration of the new church at Milford, nine miles distant ; and, on the following day, he was present at the institution of the rector. The 4th was spent pleasantly with liis friends at New Haven ; and on Saturday, the 5th, he returned, with his family, to Boston. In a brief note of Sunday evening, he speaks of their safe arrivfd, all well, except himself; and, notwithstanding his own indispo- sition, he adds, " It has not prevented me from full morning and evening service and communion ; and the day has been so cool that our attendance has been as large as usual. I do not feel any worse for the labor." During the remainder of the summer, though often almost inca- pacitated for duty, he found it quite impracticable to absent himself from his parish. He was particularly disappointed in his fondly- cherished expectations of meeting his brother in New Haven, in the month of August. The calls for pastoral services were so constant and indispensable, that he was obliged to content himself with a few short excursions in the vicinity. And finally, on the last day of summer, he writes, " I shall be stationary for a little while, having 1851.] CHTJIICII OF THE AD^^ENT. 460 an eye to a descent upon you in the course of the autumn, and, if not before, shall hope to meet round the paternal board on the great family festival of Thanksgiving." In this fond anticipation, how- ever, he was disappointed. He was never again permitted to visit his father's house, except for a single day, and this very near the close of his life. A few more weeks only remained of his mortal existence ; and this brief space was spent almost exclusively in the arduous duties of his office. On the first Sunday in September, he was engaged in a most solemn and affecting service. He was summoned to Greenfield, to attend the funeral obsequies of Dr. Alpheus Fletcher Stone, an eminent and well-beloved physician, for whom and his family he entertained the highest respect and affection. In his letter of the next day, he writes, " I have suffered nothing, as I am aware, from the journey, or from the highly-exciting services which drew the whole village together as one man. ... I am very happy that I was able to go. I preached in the morning ; and the whole family were able to be at the communion." His friend Dr. Strong, the rector of the parish, though in feeble health, was able to preach the funeral sermon in the afternoon. He adds, "At four o'clock, the funeral service superseded that of the afternoon. The church was thronged, and multitudes about it, during the services. A long procession was then formed to the grave : the choristers chanted the anthem, ' I heard a voice from heaven,' and the emotion with which it was sung gave it an expression truly touching. The sun was making a golden set at the close ; and the doctor, in thanking the assemblage for their attendance, made a beautiful allusion to it. ' We shall see,' says he, ' our friend again. Yonder sun has gone brightly to his rest ; but he shall rise again to-morrow. And our friend shall rise again on eternity's great morning, when the earth and the sea shall give up their dead.' Every thing was done, which could be done, to pay proper respect to the memory of a good man." But this, as appears from the short record of his remaining days, was not the last time that he was called to mingle his sympa- thies and his tears with this afflicted family. They had sorrow upon sorrow ; bereavement followed bereavement in quick succession ; and within a period of two months, first a daughter, and then the widow of Dr. Stone, were borne to the grave. The biographer would not wish to be thought to make too much of those incidents, which, as the time of his son's death approached, were so frequent, and, now that he is gone, seem so like premoni- tions of his approaching end. He is aware how ready we all are to persuade ourselves, in similar instances, to convert common occur- rences into extraordinary coincidences. And yet the tracing, or the attempt to trace them, is certainly a harmless and ])leasant task, and may be made a profitable one. With this view, the following 470 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CEOSWELL. [1851. extract from the sermon, just leferred to as preached on the morn- ing of this day, is placed before the reader : — " Standing as I do here, at this hour, in this sacred place, and in view of these solemn rites, which fill my mind . . . having much of infirmity to warn me of the shortness and uncertainty of human life, — and doubtful whether I may ever be permitted to join in such an assemblage on such an occasion again, — let me entreat you, as a dying man speaking to dying men, to think of these things, as we follow the remains of the departed to their last resting- place. Let not our assembUng here be a barren, unavailing so- lemnity. Let it bear fruit. Let this solemn monition of our mor- tality fill us not only with compassionate sympathy with our bereaved friends, but with solicitude to work — to work out our salvation with that fear and trembling which befit those who know not at what hour their Lord will come." But his sympathies and his tears — his joys and his sorrows — his labors and his cares — were soon to cease. Of the remaining in- cidents of his life, a few only of peculiar interest can be noted. September 22, he writes, " The Bishops of Fredericton and New- foundland were here for a part of a day, last week, on their way to Montreal. They visited our church, and the former left; word for me that he would like to preach at the Advent on his return, and make a collection for his cathedral, which is verging towards com- pletion. I have signified to him the delight which it would afford us, and our vestry entered cordially into it. He will probably re- turn in the early part of October." October 6, having learned that the Bishop of Fredericton had arrived at New York, he addressed a respectful invitation to his lordship, to spend any Sunday at the Church of the Advent which might suit his convenience. To tliis invitation he received a prompt and favorable reply ; and he re- marks, in his letter of October 13, " A pleasant interest is excited in the parish by the announcement that the Bishop of Fredericton will preach for us next Sunday. . . . He comes on Friday, and will be the guest of Peter Wainwright, Esq." The day after the bishop's arrival, being the Feast of St. Luke, he attended the Church of the Advent, assisted in the services, preached a sermon adapted to the day, and bore his appropriate part in the adminis- tration of the Holy Communion. Of his services on Sunday, the rector's own language will convey the best idea. Writing to his father the following day, he says, " The Lord Bishop arrived on Friday, true to his time. I have been much with him till 12 o'clock to-day, when he embarked for his diocese. His coming was most providential, if only to convince all beholders of the true points in an English bishop's character. He has charmed all who have seen and heard him by his simple, unostentatious, straightforward char- acter. In the pulpit there is a quiet evenness of tone, and ii 1851.] CHUIICII OF THE ADVENT. 471 sweetness that veils the meekness and gentleness of Clirist. His sermons were beautiful. We have asked him for a copy, which he has promised to give us, to be put into Boston type. It seems that our beloved diocesan considered his officiating for us as a great affront ; did not call to see him ; and declined an invitation to dine with him. To us, the value of tlie visit is more than we could pay for in sover- eigns ; and I suppose that Bp. E. knows it." This last remark refers to an appropriation by the vestry of one hundred dollars to his lordshij), to aid him in the object of his visit. The following further action of the vestry will serve to show in what high estima- tion the visit was held : — " At a meeting of the rector, wardens, and vestry of the Church of the Advent, in Boston, held October 26, 1851, it was " Unanimously resolved. That the rector be requested to commu- nicate the thanks of this body, in behalf of the parishioners gener- ally, to his lordship the Right Rev. Bishop of Fredericton, for his impressive and valuable discourses delivered in the Church of the Advent, on Sunday, the 19th instant, and to ask a copy for pub- lication, not only as a memorial of that interesting occasion, but as calculated to serve the great and holy ends to which his lordship's episcopal cares and labors have been so successfully devoted." Tuesday, October 28, being the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude, the church was opened for prayers at nine, as usual, and for the Holy Communion at eleven o'clock, the Rev. Dr. Eaton assisting the rector. On the occasion, he remarks in his journal, " The Lord Bishop of Newfoundland was present, and a partaker." Having been invited to attend the consecration of the Rev. Dr. WiLLiAJis, the assistant bishop elect of the diocese of Connecticut, on Wednesday, the 29th, he writes to his father, " It is my design to meet you at Hartford on that interesting occasion, and to bring my surplice and scarf with me, according to the request in the Witness. It is something that the primitive diocese recognizes the white vestment as the suitable one for all assisting in this high solemnity. God willing, I shall leave here in the afternoon train of Tuesday." This he was enabled to do after attending to the morn- ing services, as already noted, and leaving the parish in charge of the Rev. Mr. Monroe. He adds, " I must be here on Friday night, to give due attention to All Saints on Saturday ; and the rather, as there will be communion the next day. But I shall find time, of course, to look in at home before I return. I am glad that you are to take a part in the ceremonial of consecration. I hope it will be the last which any of the living clergy present will be called to take part in. As old Bishop Andrews prays, ' Let his age be like the age of Methuselah, his knowledge like the wis- dom of Solomon, and suffer not the face of thine anointed to be cast down.' " 472 MEMOIR OF AVILLLIM CROSWELL. [1851. A few brief notes from his daily journal will furnish some partic- ulars of this, his last journey : — " Wednesday, October 29, 1851. Being at Hartford, Connecticut, the guest of my old friends Dr. Sumner and Mrs. Grosvenor, I attended the consecration of Dr. Williams, assistant bishop elect of that diocese, in St. John's Church, The clergy were all clad in sur- plices — not a gown to be seen in the whole number ; the primitive diocese thus authenticating the proper sacerdotal dress to be worn at these high solemnities. Took tea at Mr. Brinley's with Dr. Wainwright and Mr. Burroughs. Walked in the dark and rain to Bishop Williams's. All the bishops and many of the clergy present." " Thursday, October 30. At half past eight, left in the cai-s for New Haven. . . . Housed all day with parents and family, by reason of rain. Happy shelter at such a time." Though compelled, by his arrangements at home, to terminate this visit the next day, he considered it among the happiest incidents of his life. " Friday, October 31. Bright and pleasant. Wrote to Dr. Muhlenberg, enclosing subscription for the ' Evangelical Catho- lic' At eleven, left for Boston. Reached home at 5." In this letter to Dr. Muhlenberg, he enclosed, from memory, a copy of the Hymn for Charity, which will be found at page 88 of this work. It was published in the Evangelical Catholic, with a com- plimentary note. After his decease, the letter was also published ; and it is transcribed, as among the last of his letters, with melancholy interest : — New Haven, October 31, 1851. Reverend and dear Sir : " Be thou the first true merit to befriend ; His praise is lost who stays till all commend." With this couplet in my mind, I should have been more prompt to express my gratification with your little catholic paper ; but have been waiting in the hope to accompany it with a considerable list of subscribers. When I return home, I intend to canvass the parish with this view ; but in the mean while, lose no time in estab- lishing my own claim to the residue of the volume. The concep- tion corresponds with my own idea of the great object of any sheet, large or small, and the manner of its execution answers all my ex- pectations. I send you an old hymn in little, as adapted to the view and the ends you have in contemplation, and may offer you something newer of the same descrijition, should it be desirable. " Stir up, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people, that they, plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may by thee be plenteously rewarded, through Jesus Christ our Lord." IS.Jl.J OIIURCII OF THE ADVENT. 473 God strengthen, sustain, and prosper yon in all your doiiiirs begun, continued, and ended in liim. Ever yours, in Christ, W. CROSWELL. On the evening of his return, he wrote a short note to his father, announcing his safe arrival ; and on the following day, Saturday, November 1, being the Feast of All Saints, he entered, with his accustomed ardor and zeal, upon those labors which were so soon to be brought to a sudden close. With the assistance of the Rev. Mr. Monroe, he held the usual services, with the communion, preaching also from the text, " Wherefore, seeing we also are com- passed about until so great a cloud of tvitnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus." Heb. xii. 1, 3. On Sunday, November 2, being the twentieth Sunday after Trinity, with the assistance of the Rev. Dr. Eaton and the Rev. Mr. Monroe, the communion was again administered, and he preached a sermon in continuation of the subject of the preceding day. Of these two discourses, there will be occasion to speak again, at the close of this sketch. At present, it is sutficieut to say, that could the preacher have been assured, at the moment, of his own very near approach to the enjoyment and communion of the saints in light, he could not have given higher evidence of his own con- viction of the reality of the doctrine which it was his aim to incul- cate. On the evening of this day he mailed his last letter to his father. It was occupied chiefly with domestic matters. He speaks, however, of the preceding services in high animation, and concludes with a passage which is now recorded with painful emotion. At his recent visit, his cousin, E. S., had presented him with some very choice note paper, coupled with an injunction, that he would return it well filled with poetry ; to which he replied, that it was his in- tention again to indulge in his poetical vein. In reference to this suggestion, he says, " I have tried to make a decent use of E.'s paper in prose. The poetry must wait upon my leisure." Alas, that the leisure was never granted ! that the poetry was never written ! His few remaining days were devoted most faithfully to his pas- toral duties. In addition to the daily morning and evening prayer, he spent much time in visiting the sick, the afflicted, and the desti- tute, ministering counsel, consolation, and alms, as the respective cases required ; and preparing, as well as his opportunities would permit, a special sermon, to be delivered to the children of the par- ish on the approaching Sunday. On Friday, November 7, his forty- seventh birthday, he remarked to the Rev. Mr. Robinson, whom he aiet at Mr. Stimpson's bookstore, "I must go home and finish my 60 474 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. last sermon." This remark arrested the attention of the Rev. E. M P. Wells, who was also present, and who, in his peculiarly earnest and affectionate manner, laid his hand familiarly upon the doctor's shoulder, and said, "You do not mean, my brother, your last ser- mon, but your last sermon for tliis week." To this remark Dr. Croswell made no reply, and soon after they separated, nevermore again to meet on earth. This incident was related on the authority of Mr. Wells, in the Christian Witness, and copied into other publications of the day, coupled with a suggestion that it may have indicated a presentiment of the near approach of the termination of his labors on earth. But this does not necessarily follow. He had often expressed an opinion that the multiplication of sermons, of which he had already a great number, could scarcely be deemed expedient. And from several circumstances which occurred within the few days immediately preceding, and on the very day of his death, it seems hardly probable that he was acting or speaking under any such apprehension. But, be this as it may, the result proved that the remark was prophetical of the fact ; for it loas, lit- erally, his last sermon. It was during this week, and near the close of it, that having occasion to direct a letter to his intimate friend, the Rt. Rev. John WiLLiAJVis, Assistant Bishop of Connecticut and President of Trini- ty College, he recurred, in the close of it, to the repeated afflic- tions which had fallen upon their common friends, the family of Dr. Stone, of Greenfield ; and after mentioning that, having heard that Dr. Strong was sick and much exhausted, he was himself daily expecting a summons to Greenfield to attend the funeral of Mrs. Stone, who then was at the point of death, he says, " These repeated afflictions, which have in so short a time left so desolate a home where you and I have been made so happy, seem indeed mysterious ! I cannot understand them. But one thing I hiow : ' Right precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of HIS saints ! ' " How aptly fitted was this thought, prepared, as it were, for his own burial, to comfort his own surviving friends ! * On Saturday, November 8, he made his last entry in his journal. This is a very brief record of the transactions of the day previous to his death. Besides the ministrations already alluded to, he notes especially his ineffectual search after a poor woman, who had ap- plied at his residence for charity, but who had not given correctly the place of her abode. After the labors of the day were over, he called upon, and took tea with. Miss Margaret Coffin, an elderly lady, with whom he had been long associated in works of charity, from whose hand he had experienced many acts of kindness, and for whose Christian character he entertained the highest respect * It has been supijosed that this was the last letter -written by him. 1861.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 475 and veneration. He retired early, with tlie most pleasant anticipa- tions of the solemnities of the ensuing day. ft was his last day, that day of trilinlation and sorrow to his friends, when he closed liis solemn duties in the church militant, and entered into his rest. He rose early, and appeared in fine health and spirits, without the slightest indication of indisposition, or apprehension of approaching danger. Agreeably to previous arrangements, the Rev. Mr. Estes preached the morning sermon, while he bore his part in the services, and, at the proper time, pub- lished the following notices : — " I propose to preach to the children tliis afternoon, on a part of the first lesson for the morning. I hope the children of the parish will all be in church." " A course of instruction on the subject of confirmation will be continued every Wednesday evening, after divine service. Due notice of the time and j^lace of administering the rite will be given. In the mean while, all who are interested are invited to attend." * During the intermission, it was remarked by his family that he never appeared more cheerful. He seemed to promise himself much enjoyment in the approaching services — first, in admitting an infant, by holy baptism, into the bosom of the Church ; and last, in addressing the little ones of his flock, in whose spiritual welfare he took the deepest interest. His sermon to the children, from 2 I^ngs v. 2, 3, was written in a style of beautiful simplicity, perfectly plain, and well adapted to the capacity of his juvenile hearers, and yet full of the most sublime and elevated thoughts. As he proceeded in the delivery, it was perceived that he occasion- ally betrayed some signs of faltering in his speech ; but this was very naturally imputed to his emotions, and would not have at- tracted particular notice, had he not also, from time to time, placed his hand in an unusual manner upon the back of his head, as if suffering from pain or distiess. " The children," remarks an eye- witness, " were much aflfected as they saw, or thought they saw, tears stealing from his eyes. His voice, which was ever gentle and soft, and could scarce shape itself to a tone of reproof but that it would falter into music, meanwhile assumed, as from some presentimental emotion, those tones of tender pathos which rendered his speech no * These notices were found in liis Prayer Book, and are preserved as the last relics of his handwriting, with the exception of the date and address of a let- ter whicli he permitted his little daughter, who was detained from cliui-ch by Indisposition, to write to her grandfather. She commenced the letter in ink, thanking her grandfather for a book which he had given her, and expressing a hope that she might commit many of the pieces to memory. But before the letter was finished, she added, in peucQ, these remarkable lines : " Father was in the middle of his sermon when he was taken faint, and he was brought home in grandma Carpenter's carriage ; but aunt Delia thinks he may get well." Alas, poor cMd ! her father was at this moment di-awing his last breath. 476 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851 less fit than if it had been specially meant for a valedictory to the little ones of his flock." After j)roceeding through about two thirdj of his manuscript, he closed his discourse abruptly, with a few re- marks and the customary ascription. He then pronounced dis- tinctly, from memory, the first stanza of the hymn previously ap- pointed to be sung by the choir : — " Soldiers of Christ arise. And put your armor on, Strong in the strength which God supplies Through his eternal Son." But in giving the number of this hymn, which is the eighty-eighth in the collection, he named, by a most striking and extraordinary inadvertence, the one hundred and eighty-eighth, in which these lines occur : — " Determined are the days that fly Successive o'er thy head ; The numbered hour is on the wing That lays thee with the dead." The choir, however, governed by his original directions, sung the hymn appointed, during which he stood, as usual, facing the altar. At the conclusion, he knelt down at the chancel rail, and said from memory, his book having fallen noiselessly from his hand, the fol- lowing collect : — " Direct us, O Lord, in all our doings, with thy most gracious favor, and further us with thy continual help ; that in all our works begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify thy holy name, and finally, by thy mercy, obtain everlasting life, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.'''' But now his strength seems to have entirely failed. Instead of rising and turning to the congregation, as was his custom, to pro- nounce the concluding benediction, he remained on his knees, and said, with a faltering voice, the apostolic blessing. The congregation imme- diately took the alarm, and his friends rushed forward to his assist- ance. He was borne down through the cliurch to the vestry room, and from thence in a carriage to his residence. Though at first evidently conscious, he seemed unable to articulate distinctly, and uttered but a few words; and, being ajjprised by the physicians in attendance of the dangerous nature of his attack, he composed him- self quietly on his couch, and closed his eyes, as if in a calm sleep. His old, long-tried, and faithful friend and father in the gospel, the Rev. Dr. Eaton, was soon at his side, and, finding him unable to speak, if not unconscious, knelt down, and taking him by the hand, oflfered the Commendatory Prayer of the Church : — 1851.] HIS DEATH. 477 "O Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made per- fect, after they are delivered from their earthly prisons, we humbly commend the soul of this thy servant, our dear brother, into thy hands, as into the hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Savior ; most humbly beseech- ing thee that it may be precious in thy sight. Wash it, we pray thee, in the blood of that immaculate Lamb that was slain to take away the sins of the world ; that whatsoever defilements it may have contracted in the midst of this miserable and naughty world, through the lusts of the flesh, or the wiles of Satan, being purgetl and done away, it may be presented pure and with- out spot before thee. And teach us who survive, in this and other like daily spectacles of mortality, to see how frail and uncertain our own condition is, and so to number our days that we may seriously apply our hearts to that holy and heavenly wisdom, whilst we live here, which may in the end bring us to life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ, thine only Son, our Lord. Amen.''^ As the word Amen was pronounced by the venerable priest, the last breath was perceived to pass, gently, quietly, and without a struggle, from the lips of the dying soldier of the cross, and he was at rest in the bosom of his Savior ! It is impossible to describe the sensations produced by this ex- traordinary and appalling visitation. The heart may conceive, but words cannot express, the bitterness of this stroke to his family, to his parish, and to the broad circle of friends, at home and abroad, who were more immediately affected by the dispensation. The publications of the day tell something of the pulsations of the popu- lar feeling ; and to these due reference will be made in gathering up the various public and private testimonials on which the biogra- pher must rely for the exhibition of his character. As his biogra- pher, he can only add to this portion of the work, for the consola- tion of survivors, some of his dying counsels, selected from his last general discourse, delivered on the Feast of All Saints, together with a brief account of the funeral solemnities. In this discourse, after a glowing commentary on the text already cited, closing in the animated strains of the church hymn, — " Behold the innumerable host Of angels clothed in light ; Behold the spirits of the just Whose faith is changed to sight. Angels, and living saints and dead. But one communion make ; All join in Christ, their vital Head, And of his love partake," — he proceeds with his application : — " Such is that heavenly and invisible world of saints and glori- fied spirits which the word of God discloses, and wliich the solemn 478 MEMOIR OF AVILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. offices of divine worship on tliis day, and all days, are intended to assist us in realizing. Would that we might be roused to a consid- eration of this great scene ; would that the vision of these glori- fied witnesses might inspire praise to God, whose truth and mercy to them is the confirmation of our faith, the encouragement of our duty, and gives us in contemplation an antepast of our happiness before we come to its full enjoyment. Here are men of like pas- sions with ourselves, exposed while on earth to the same or like trials, both of flesh and spirit, witnesses to us, from their blessedness, of the efficacy of Christian faith, and the sure success of diligent and devout application to the means of grace. Here are witnesses to us of the sufficiency of the blood of Christ to cleanse from all sin, to procure a full and free pardon, and to insure that triumph whereby the dying Christian, looking unto Jesus, can exultantly cry, O Death, where is thy sting ? O Grave, where is thy victory ? " And especially let those of us, beloved brethren, who have found, in the anguish of bereavement, no adequate human object on which their affections can rest, no earthly good to fill the aching void, ponder and meditate on these neglected yet solemn doctrines, and endeavor not only to believe them, but to make them part of our habitual thoughts — our whole spiritual nature. Let these thoughts and things of an unseen world lift us above the dangers and temptations of things seen and temporal, and draw us closer to His cross by whom and through whom alone the holy dead have fought the good fight, and are now passed farther and farther into the bosom of the church triumphant and the glorious prospects of heaven. Let us feel how all that was truly them and theirs still survives, and how deeply they should live in our affections — communing with them in the same love we bore them while living, and that love exalted and purified by their departure, and looking forward to a more spiritual intercourse than ever the past afforded. With these views, well may all that they valued be the more endeared to us ; well may the house and altar of God, where we communed often to- gether, — the spot where we last took leave of all of them that was mortal, — become to us holy ground — a place set apart and hallowed to tender recollections, to holy musings, to fruitful meditations, to pious resolves, to strong yet chastened anticipations of that hour of unspeakable bliss — too intense to bear, except the Spirit strengthen us — of seeing our lost brethren, of looking on them again, of having them at our side. Can we conceive, indeed, any more afffecting call to a holy life than this hope of meeting in another world the brethren and little ones of our Father's house, and dwelling with them forever, with our capacities of love enlarged, our mutual infirmities removed, our vile bodies made into glorious bodies, and our spirits made perfect ? And as every little thing brings them up in our minds, — our house, our room, our gardens. 1851.] SERMON FOll AI,L SAINTS'. 479 our walks, the little ornaments in our apartments, all serve to touch a chord in our souls, — let not these awakeners of thought cause us only a pang of sorrow. Let us turn them into angels' voices. Let them warn us of sin, and incite us to all virtuous and godly living ; to that preparation for Christ's coming, that life of prayer and good works, which would make our hope of meeting them in heaven not a mere baseless dream — a hope not wildly and unreasonably entertained. And in order that the dead in Christ may have this godly influence, can we do better than to set apart some fixed and given seasons for their more solemn com- memoration ? Can we do better than to devote such a feast as this to tlieir memory — thinking of the religiousness of their earthly life, of their everlasting recompense as faithful servants of Christ, and of the hope of living with them in heaven, should we follow their steps on earth 1 " Blessed are we when the thought of the glorified child, or parent, or wife, or brother, or sister, or friend thus becomes an incitement and aid to heavenly-mindedness. Blessed are we when we act as if we heard their voices calling us, ' Come up hither, and dwell with us — do not grow cold and careless ; ' when they seem to lay hold upon us, as the angels did upon the lingering patriarchs, to hasten our flight. When we thus think of them, we would fain be with them. But duties remain. We seem like a man toiling and wearied amid the harvest field, but in sight of the home where his family and kindred are gathering, one by one, to keep some joyous festival ; who often turns a wistful glance towards them, and then bends patiently to his toil, knowing that the evening will dismiss him to their enjoyments, and lending, a sturdier blow to the work that must be done, animated by that homeward glance. So may our view of the glorified cloud of witnesses lead us to a more vigorous discharge of life's duties, to ' lay aside every weight, and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and to run with patience the race that is set before us.' " And now, beloved brethren, ' looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith,' as penitent believers, longing in our inmost hearts for that which neither the world nor popular religion can insure us, — the communion of saints, — let us seek it, where the Apostles' creed declares it is, in the Holy Catholic Church, whose ministries and ordinances have descended to us in unbroken suc- cession. Let us endeavor to sound the depths of that spiritual service, wherein, if its words be not a solemn mockery, God does ' vouci)safe to feed us, who duly receive these holy mysteries, with the spiritual food of the most precious body and blood of his Son Jesus Christ ; and does assure us thereby of his favor and goodness towards us, and that we are very members incorporate in the mys- tical body of his Son, which is the blessed company of all faithful 480 JklEMOm OF WILLIAil CROST^TILL. |18ol. people, and are also iieirs through hope of his everlasting kingdom.' May He of whose only gift it cometh that we may lawfully use such language, and entertain hopes so high, enable us to yield our- selves to these sanctifying and solemn convictions ; and, expanding our souls towards every human being, whether near or distant, whether in this world or the other, whom he hath made dear to us, may he call forth our hearts and minds to grasp all that is meant in these marvellous words ; that so, rising above the feeling which thinks Christ honored by contrasting his grace and merits with his own ordinances, we may seek ever to view and receive him in the sacraments of his ineffable mercy to mankind, and excite our expectations to reach after some special intercourse with him and his in the communion of his dying love ! " THE FUNERAL. The father and the two surviving brothers of the deceased, having been summoned by telegraph, arrived at Boston on Monday even- ing, and, on the following day, the arrangements were settled for the funeral solemnities, and for conveying the remains to the place of interment. The funeral was solemnized on Wednesday morn- ing. The Right Reverend' Bishop Eastburn in his episcopal robes, and a large number of the clergy in their priestly vestments, agreeably to a resolution passed at a previous meeting, met at the residence of the deceased, in Green Street. The bishop and clergy preceded the bier, which was borne by the wardens and vestry of the Church of the Advent, attended by the following pall bearers in surplices : — The Rev. Dr. Edson, of Lowell, The Rev. Dr. Burroughs, of Portsmouth, N. H., The Rev. Dr. Vinton, of Boston, The Rev. Dr. Wells, of Boston, The Rev. Mr. Greenleaf, of Boston, The Rev. Mr. Mason, of Boston, The Rev. Mr. Clinch, of Boston, The Rev. Mr. Lambert, U. S. N. The procession was met at the door of the church by the Rt. Rev. Bishop Williams, D. D., of Connecticut, the Rev. Dr. Wainavright, of New York, and the Rev. Drs. Eaton and Strong. The burial service was read by the Rt. Rev. Bishop Williams and the Rev. Dr. Wainwright. " The church was crowded," says the Christian Witness, " with a most solemn assembly, and all the services of the mournful occasion were deeply impressive." Among the clergy present, in addition to those already named, were the Rev. Drs. 1851.1 THE FUNERAL. 481 Fuller, Shepard, and Wayland, and the Rev. Messrs. Robinson, Randall, Allen, Wildes, Smithett, VVithington, Baury, S. B. Babcock, W. R. Babcock, Bartlett, Burroughs, F.stes, Fales, Field, Foxcroet, Hallam, Haskins, Hoppin, Wm. Horton, Page, Geo. W. Porter, and Slafter, of Massachusetts ; Rev. .Tohn Kelly and Rev. W. S. Childs, of New Hampshire ; Rev. S. R. Slack, of Virginia ; and Rev. N. W. Monroe, of New York. At the conclusion of the services at the church, the coffin was conveyed to the station house of the Worcester Raih'oad, and put in charge of a committee of the parish, consisting of Messrs. C. P. Gordon, (Junior Warden,) .T. P. Tarbell, F. E. Oliver, N. A. Parks, Charles Grafton, and R. H. Salter, who j^roceeded, in company with the lather, brothers, and a few other friends, to New Haven. They arrived early in the same evening, and were met by several of the vestry of Trinity Church and other friends, who attended the body to the parsonage, where it was placed in the same parlor which had been, but a few days previous, the scene of some of the happiest hours in his father's house. On the following morning, his mortal remains were borne to the family burying lot in the New Haven cemetery, and committed to his grave by the side of that of his elder brother, whose early death had called forth one of the sweetest and most touching poetical effusions of his pen.* CHARACTER OF THE DECEASED. His biographer might shrink almost intuitively from the perform- ance of this delicate portion of his undertaking, were he obliged to rely solely on his own judgment. He might fear, that, through the warmth of paternal affection, the more attractive points in his char- acter might be overdrawn ; or, dreading the imputation of such undue partiality, he might be induced to withhold many things absolutely necessary to the full development of the truth. But, happily, he is placed in no such dilemma. The materials for this part of the work are furnished by other hands; and he may employ the language of friendship, indeed, but a friendship, we trust, not to be suspected of improper bias. We select, from a mass of public and private testimonials, all that may be deemed essential in making out the portraiture. These are drawn from the periodical press, from the action of public bodies and associations, from pulpit discourses, and from the voluntary tributes of private friendship. * The " Two Graves ; " see page 16. 61 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. THE PERIODICAL PRESS. The Boston daily papers, in announcing, on the following day, the striking circumstances of his death, appended such eulogistic remarks as seem to have heeii dictated by the first impulse of the moment. One or two extracts will serve as specimens : — From the Courier. — " Dr. Croswell was a native of Hudson, N. Y., but had been for many years an inhabitant of Boston, and was at one time rector of the North Church. He was eminent for the kindness of his heart, the amenity and unaffected simplicity of his maimers, and the genuine Christian benevolence which is not confined to theory, but exhibits itself in daily practice. The be- reaved, the afiiicted, and the destitute were certain to find his heart and purse open for their consolation and relief The memory of his quiet and unobtrusive charities will rise in the hearts of all who knew him, like flowers to deck the good man's grave." From a correspondent of the Transcript. — " Thus Dr. Cros- well died emphatically in the gospel harness — the very condition above all others in which he would have prayed to close up his use- ful and dutiful life. To a few of his closest friends he had some time ago expressed the conviction that he was liable to be called away at almost any moment ; and he was always ready for the event which has surprised his people with a sorrow that may not be told. He was indeed a high model of Christian character ; full of honorable, and gentlemanly, and endearing qualities ; in a word, his daily life was an embodiment, so far as human frailty may well permit, of our holy religion. The worshippers at the Church of the Advent loved him as a father, and honored him greatly as a man. To those whose sick bed he has softened with his calm sympathies and solemn benedictions, his death is a loss indeed. " In person. Dr. Croswell was above the medium size, finely built, and a very pattern of manly beauty. His mind was an admi- rable combination of genius and practical wisdom, its greatness so hidden in its fine proportions that it took a long and close acquaintr ance rightly to measure and estimate his powers." To these may be added a few extracts from the religious peri- odicals of Boston : — From the Christian Witness. — " The sudden summons of a friend from this world to the next almost invariably shocks the mind with a species of awe, when the unlooked-for intelligence first strikes the ear. We seem to start at it as at something dreadful ; 1851.] CHARACTER OF THE DECEASED. 483 and yet, when it occurs under circumstances sucli as attended the last hour of our deceased brother, there is much in it which, to the Christian mind, is truly pleasant. There is something delij'htful, we might say almost glorious, in tlie idea of the Christian soldier's dying in the field with ' all his armor on.' In such a death tliere is much more to be thankful for than there is to be dreaded. " Dr. Croswell was endowed with an intellect of a high order, well disciplined by a classical education. His poetical gifts were such as would have placed him among the first of American poets, had he given particular attention to their cultivation. Some of the pieces from his pen are among the choicest gems in our language. Blessed with a very amiable disposition, which manifested itself in a manner marked for its amenity, it is not extraordinary that he had many friends, and that they were strongly attached to him. Few men in this community have been more respected. All ad- mired the purity and simplicity of his Christian character, however they may have diftered from him in his theological views. He has gone to his rest. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." From the Christian Register. — "The circumstances of the de- cease of this worthy and lamented clergyman are peculiarly im- pressive, we will not add affecting, because that must be regarded a happy and even enviable departure by which the faithful ser- vant is permitted, as in a moment, to depart from his labor to his reward. " Our opportunities did not bring us to any intimacy of friend- ship with this excellent person, nor would our personal acquaint- ance authorize our attempting to portray his character. That office should be reserved for those who knew and can appreciate his peculiar gifts and virtues. But we were accustomed to meet Dr. Croswell as a neighbor, and for several years, while he was rector of Christ Church, in the northern part of the city, being within the same walks of professional duty, we were witnesses for ourselves, and not seldom did we hear from others, of the constancy, fidelity, cheerful contentment, and religious trust with which, from Sabbath to Sabbath, and from year to year, he fulfilled a laborious ministry, and discharged much duty with little recompense of re- ward. We loved to meet him in our own walks of duty, to ex- change with him, if not professional congratulations, yet fraternal sympathies, and then to go on our way cheered by the light of his manly countenance and the kind pressure of his hand. " As the rector of the Church of the Advent, whatever diversities of opinion may have existed between himself and some of his breth- ren, — into which neither we nor they would be disposed, "on this oc- casion, for a moment to enter, — we learn from testimony, various and affectionate, that he was to his people the object of their entire 484 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM OROSWELL. [185L confidence and regard ; that ' they loved hiin as a father, and honored hhn as a man,' And the whole aspect of the church on the morning of his interment, as the bereaved flock gathered in silent and respect- ful grief to pay their tribute to his remains, gave touching evidence of their sense of their loss, that not only an instructor and guide, but a friend and a pastor who knew his flock, and ' one who com- forted the mourners,' was taken from them." t From other secular and religious papei's : — The New Haven Register, to a brief notice of his death, adds this testimony : " Besides the large circle of friends on whom this blow has suddenly fallen, the Church of the Advent, of which he was the rector, and which had grown up under his untiring labors, his loss will, apparently, be irreparable. Quiet and unassuming in his habits, his mind and heart were the home of the strongest affections, of the keenest perception of the truthful and the beautiful, and of the loftiest ideal conceptions : in works of art and taste, his judgment was exquisitely nice and accurate. As a poet, Mr. Griswold has appropriately included him in his list of the Sacred Poets of England and America ; and the etlitor of the American edition of Reble's Christian Year has enriched even that rare collection of gems with extracts from the late Dr. Croswell's gifted pen. The editor of that book also said of him, that ' he has more unwritten poetry in him than any man he ever knew.' The strength of his re- ligious character, and the depth of his devotion, will be most highly appreciated by those who knew him best. He has fallen in the vigor of manhood, with his armor on. Pleasant memories linger behind him ; and the sympathies of true hearts in all parts of our country will mingle with the sorrows of the bereaved family." A communication under the signature of " H.," and dated »« Church of the Advent, Boston, November 11, 1851," appeared in the Neio York Churchnan. This communication, which we do not hesitate to ascribe to the Rev. H. W. Hudson, contained, among other things, a correct biographical sketch of the deceased, some touching particulars of his last hours, (a portion of which we have already cited,) and a few sentiments of high admiration, which were also sent to the Boston papers. The few remaining passages are subjoined as the testimony of one whose accuracy in judging can only be excelled by the gracefulness of his drawing from the lin- eaments of the human character. " Thus Dr. Croswell, the gifted and the good, has passed away from us, closing up his useful and beautiful life on the very field, and in the very harness, as it were, of his heavenly warfare : the stroke of death literally took him with the words of life upon his lio;^ — the condition, above all others, 1851.] CHARACTER. 485 vvliereiii he would have prayed, and indeed has often said he wished, the last summons might find him." After nientiotiinjj his settlement in the Church of the Advent, he adds, " He was the first to institute and carry out in Boston the plan of a church with free sittinj^s, the weekly offertory, and the daily service ; and that church, from the beginning, has been a place where all who were so minded could enjoy the precious gift of our daily matins and even song. That plan has been altogether successful. In this sacred work Dr. Croswell had given himself no rest, and under his wise cherishing, with the blessing of God, a church has grown up in less than seven years, which unquestionably has at this day more life, more energy, and more operative virtue than any other parish in New England. We can but hope and pray that the memory of their, departed rector, so deeply beloved and so worthy of their love, will be as an angel of peace to knit and hold that noble cluster of warm hearts, clear heads, and steady hands into still increasing strength. Doubtless they will adhere most religiously to the order he has established — a course wherein they will hardly be opposed, save by those who prefer their own opinions to the faith once delivered to the saints. " To have done such a piece of work, is itself the best possible testimony to the strength and skill of the workman. This is no time to enter upon his literary and intellectual merits : but Dr. Croswell was no ordinary man ; we have simply never known one in whom the elements Avere more choicely mixed up. His mind was a rare and happy combination of genius and practical wisdom ; its real greatness being so hidden in its fine proportions, that it took a long and close acquaintance rightly to measure and estimate his powers. His breadth, and compass, and variety of intellectual endowment, his clearness of style and subtilty of method, rendered him an admirable study. Those who only saw the habitual smooth- ness and serenity of his spirit could have little idea what rich treasures of energy and living force were wrapped up in him ; what a basis of firm, strong, manly sense and thought did underlie the calm grace of his simple manners and the sweet order of his every-day deportment. With less beauty and symmetry, he would have seemed to have more strength of mind and character ; the best evidence of his strength being, that he knew how to withhold it till he had a fitting occasion for putting it forth. His taste was cxtiui- site ; his sermons, which were certainly the best we ever heard, were models of chaste and candid composition ; his keen sense ot the sacredness of his office keeping out of them all that fiippant smartness and brilliancy which distinguishes popular preachers. " Dr. Croswell's ])iety issued in a still, deep, steady current of good works : his method of religion was to have as much of sub- stance, with as little of surface, as possible. In society he was 486 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [185L modest and reserved ; and every thing about him quietly spoke the delicacy and refinement of the finished gentleman. But, indeed, (fi)r we must close this notice,) he was a high model of Christian character ; full of honorable, and gentlemanly, and endearing qualities ; in a word, his daily life was an embodiment, as far as human frailty may well permit, of the very spirit and genius of our holy religion. " In person, Dr. Croswell was above the medium size, finely built ; and all together might well be quoted as a pattern of manly beauty. Last night we saw his remains ' hearsed in death ; ' and certainly our eye never lighted on a more beautiful vision. It seemed as if the departing spirit had lingered to trace its new-born beauty upon the earthly form where it was used to abide." The following, from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Horatio Potter, rector of St. Paul's Church, in Albany, appeared in the Evening Journal of that city : — " Rev. William Croswell, D. D., of Boston. — How many hearts, in every part of the country, will be profoundly aff"ected at the sudden departure of this eminent and much-loved servant of God ! It so happened that he had been little known in this com- munity, not having officiated here for many years, and his visits to the city having been unfrequent and strictly private ; but even here there are very many who will desire to pay a fervent tribute to the memory of this good man ; this gentlest and kindest of friends ; this lovely Christian gentleman ; this zealous minister of God's Church ; whose spirit, calm and cheerful, but elevated and glowing, kept the fire ever alive on the altar, and diffused warmth and bright- ness wherever it appeared. Who ever met him without wishing to meet him again * There was something so soothing and so cheer- ing about his presence, and something so placid and so elevated, that turbulence, and passion, and care seemed to flee away at the approach of his beaming countenance, while peace, and gladness, and good will rose up to bid him welcome. And then he was so reflective ; the play of his fancy was so beautiful and so Christian- like ; his thoughts, especially when he was with only a few friends, seemed to mount up so naturally to the dearest objects of Christian taste and Christian devotion, and often to make themselves apparent so sweetly in his looks and manner, when he was too modest and too reverent to express them fully, — that you yielded yourself up to truth and nature ; you became lost in the contemplation of beautiful and holy things, and found so much of feeling, and so little of art, that you forgot you were communing with an accomplished Christian poet. " The writer of tliese few lines assisted at his ordination, when 1861.* CHAHACTER. 487 he was admitted to the sacred ministry by the Riglit Rev. Bishop Brownell, of Connecticut, and well remembers how he appeared that day, (twenty years or more ago,) and how his whole nature seemed to bow down to receive the awful gift conferred upon liim. How many liearts has he won since that day ! — won for himself, and won for his divine Master. Where has he ever been without making himself loved ? It will be for others to speak of his powers as a writer, as a poet, as a preacher, as a Christian pastor. Several years ago, at the desire of a number of gentlemen in Boston, he returned to that city, and tlie Church of the Advent was organized, and its holy place opened for daily prayers and a weekly commu- nion ; and there, twice every day, he was to be found leading the devotions of an earnest and praying people. His aged father, that valiant soldier of the cross, who has won so many trophies, yet survives to follow all tliat is mortal of his gifted son to the tomb, and to feel and know that that son has entered into his rest before him. That he departed at the going down of the sun on God's holy day ; that he was called even in the holy place, and in the midst of his sacred ministrations, — what is this but a token of the rest, the peace, the transporting service to which he has been exalled ? Be this the comfort of that venerated and beloved parent. Be this also our comfort, while we hasten to make ourselves ready, and learn ' in faith to muse How grows in paradise our store.' " The number and variety of similar extracts from the religious and secular publications of the day might be greatly enlarged: b' the biographer must content himself with the following b: . pas- sage from the New York Express. With reference to his efforts iu rearing the new parish in Boston of which he was rector, the ed- itor says, — " In this work he has been for several years most assiduously engaged, and his labors have been followed with the most encour- aging success. These labors were intense and unremitted, and wore greatly upon his physical strength. They were not only those of writing and preaching sermons, and of holding two services every day, but those also of parochial visitation and ministration. With the great end of his anxious hopes and earnest toils almost fully realized, and while actually engaged in the solemn duties of his holy office in the church he had reared and among the flock he had tended, he yielded up his spirit to Him who gave it, and cbanged his ministry from earth to heaven. Years ago he wrote these lines upon the death of the first Christian martyr, Stephen. How has the holy prayer they breathed been answered ! MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851, ' To us, with all his constancy, Be his rapt vision given, To look above and see Revealments bright of heaven. And power to speak our triumphs out, As our last hours draw near. While neither clouds of fear or doubt Before our view appear.' " CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. At a special meeting of the wardens and vestry of Christ Church, held in the vestry room, on Monday evening, November 10, 1851, the following preamble and resolutions were unanimously passed : — Forasmuch as it has pleased Almighty God, in his providence, to take out of this life his faithful and devoted servant, the Rev. William Ckoswell, D. D., rector of the Church of the Advent, and sometime rector of this Church, therefore, — Resolved, That, while we bow with meek submission to the will of our heavenly Father, it is proper that we should mourn for our loss, and testify to the feelings of sorrow and sadness with which this sudden and afflictive dispensation has filled our minds. Resolved, That the virtues of this faithful soldier and servant of Christ, faithful to his life's end, his unassuming worth, the consist- ency of his Christian character, his fidelity in the discharge of his dutift as a Christian minister and Christian man, his kindness to the poor, his counsel and assistance to the fatherless and widows, are worthy to be had in remembrance by us, as a bright example of what a Christian minister ought to be. Resolved, That the remembrance of the kindness with which he always assisted in this parisli, during the late vacancy in tlie rector- ship, in visiting the sick and dying, and performing the last offices for the dead, — never ofl^ering an excuse, nor delaying a moment when called upon, — endears his memory to us, and causes us to realize that a faithful servant of the Church has been removed, who was ever ready at his post, and that we have indeed lost a friend. Resolved, That, as we bow with submission to the dispensation of our heavenly Father, we bless his holy name that we mourn not as those witliout hope, but humbly trust that it may be so ordered to us and to all tiiat its suddenness may teach us to appre- ciate the shortness and uncertainty of human life, and that the good example of our departed friend may teach us so to live that we may be prepared to die. Resolved, That we sincerely and affectionately sympathize \>itlj the bereaved relations of the deceased in their affliction, and hiunbly 18ol.] TESTIMONIALS. 489 trust tlmt, from the heavenly source so often pointed out hy him we now mourn, they may receive consolation in their bereavement. Resolved, Tliat the rector, wardens, and vestry will attend the funeral of the Rev. Dr. Crosvvkll, and that tiie rector and wardens be ret^uested to take such other course to show respect to his mem- ory as they may deem proper. Resolved, That the preamble and resolutions be entered at length upon the records of this church, and that copies be sent to the fiimily of our deceased friend, and especially to the Rev. Dr. Cros- WELL, of New Haven, and to the wardens and vestry of the Church of the Advent. WILLIAM T. SMITHETT, Chcdrman. Geo. W, Collamore, Clerk. BISHOP AND CLERGY. At a meeting of the Episcopal clergy of the city of Boston, held at the residence of the bishop of the diocese, on Tuesday, Novem- ber 11, 1851, on occasion of the death of the Rev. W. Croswell, D. D., the bishop was requested to take the chair, and the Rev. Charles Mason was appointed secretary ; when the following pre- amble and resolutions were adopted : — Whereas it has pleased Almighty God suddenly to remove from this world our reverend brother, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., rector of the Church of the Advent, therefore, — Resolved, That we view, in this startling dispensation of Provi- dence, a peculiarly solemn call to us his surviving ministerial breth- ren, to increased fidelity in the preaching of the word, and in the discharge of all the high responsibilities committed to our trust. Resolved, That we cherish a pleasing remembrance of the per- sonal character of our departed brother; of the accom|)lishments by which his mind was adorned ; of his untiring assiduity in the discharge of his ministerial labors ; and of his many Christian graces. Resolved, That we sympathize deeply with his family in this their sudden bereavement, and that our prayers shall be offered on their behalf, that, through the Holy Spirit, they may have the richest consolations of those who "sorrow not as others which have no hope." Resolved, That a copy of the foregoing preamble and resolutions be transmitted to the widow and family of our dej)arted brother in the ministry, and be inserted in the Christian Witness. CHARLES MASON, Sectary. Parish of the Advent, Boston, Sundaij, the twenty-second after Tri/iifi/, A. ^ ^i^I. At a meeting of the wardens and vestry, liolden at the church immediately after evening service, the committee appointed to 62 490 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851 proceed to New Haven in com pan} with the body of tlie late rector of this parish, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., and to attend to its interment at tliat place, reported, that they had discharged the duty assigned to them ; the body having been buried at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 13th of November, at the New Ha- ven cemetery, ^uleep in the ground,'''' in accordance with the wishes of the deceased. The following resolution was thereupon adopted by a unanimous vote, and entered at large upon the record : — Resolved, That now, for the first time, when the last rites have been paid to the mortal remains of our beloved rector, we will strive for a moment to control our grief, and to give expression, ia some feeble degree, to what no ivords can measurabjy eorjjress. Although it does not become us to sorrow as others which have no hope, yet we cannot beliold the desolation of our house of prayer, and remember tlie affliction which weighs upon the family of our beloved rector, without offering to them the testimony of our sym- pathy and condolence. We, therefore, the Church and Congregation whom he served, are ready to bear witness concerning our brother appointed to the Priesthood over us : — That he duly exercised his ministry to the honor of God and the edifying of his Cinirch, — That he considered well with himself the end of his ministry towards the children of God, towards the Spouse and Body of Christ, — That he never ceased his labors, his care, and diligence, but did all that lay in him to bring all such as were committed to his charge unto an agreement in the faith and knowledge of God, and to ripeness and perfectness of age in Christ, — That he was a faithful dispenser of the word of God and of HIS holy sacraments, — That, without preferring one before another, and doing nothing by partiality, he did not shun to declare unto all, high and low, rich and poor, one with another, the ipJiole counsel of God — warning us that, without exemption or dispensation, we must obey both the greatest and the very least of the holy commandments of Jesus Christ. And now, since we, among whom he had gone preaching the kingdom of God, shall see his face on earth no more, we take record that he 'is pure from the blood of all men. We remember that, by the space of seven years, he ceased not to warn every one, morning and evening, with his prayers, taking heed unto himself and to all the flock over which the Holy Ghost had made him overseer, feeding the Church of God, which he hath purchased with his own blood. And while we sorrow most of all for the words which we must 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 491 speak, — " we shall see his face no more," — we are consoled by the ren)enibrance, tliat, tolieti his Lord came, he was found watrhitig, — as one that icnitcth for his Lord, — his loi7is girded about with priestly robes, and the spiritual lights of his ministration burning; and we therefore call ajx^n his family to bow with us in humble resignation to the mysterious will of God, and, with us, to Bless his holy name for all his servants departed this life in HIS faith and fear, beseeching him to give us grace so to follow their good examples, that, with them, we may be partakers of his heavenly kingdom. Grant this, O Father, for Jesus Christ, his sake, our only Mediator and Advocate. Amen. ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, CHARLESTOWN. LETTER TO MRS. CROSWELL. Charlestown, De/'-ember 15, 1851. Dear Madam: Enclosed you will please find a copy of the resolves passed by the vestry of St. John's Church, which they have directed should be sent to you. In the recent afflictive dispensation of our heavenly Father that removed from this world your beloved partner, the vestry of St. John's Church feel that they too have lost a faithful and devoted friend. Destitute of pastoral supervision and care during the past season, the hearts of our people, tried by sorrow and suffering, have often turned to him for sympathy and advice ; and though pressed with duties incident to a large parish, he never refused our applications ; but again and again has he been with us, to comfort the sick and the afflicted ; and six times within as many months has he performed for members of our congregation the last sad offices for the dead. Allow us, dear madam, to extend to you our sympathies, and with you mingle our sorrows for the loss of our good friend: and may the God of the widow be ever your protector and stay to your life's end. P. HUBBELL, Li belialf of the Vestry of St. John's Cliurch. At a meeting of the wardens and vestry of St. John's Cliurch, Charlestown, held in the vestry room, on Monday evening, December 15, 18.51, the following was submitted to the consideration of the members of the vestry, and unanimously adopted: — Whereas, it has pleased Almighty God suddenly to remove from the sphere of his great usefulness on earth to his heavenly rest the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., late rector of the Church of the Advent in Boston, we, the wardens and vestry of St. John's Church, Charlestown, would gratefully acknowledge our many obligations to 49-2 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS^VELL. [1851 him for his Christian kindness and attention to this parish while destitute of a pastor, and would tender to his bereaved wife and family our sympathy for tliem in their present hour of deep affliction. Voted, That the clerk be directed to enter the above upon the record, and to transmit a copy thereof to the family of the de- ceased. SOCIETY FOR THE RELIEF OF WIDOWS AND ORPHANS. TO MRS. CEOSWELL. BosTox, December 3, 18-51. Madam : In enclosing to you, officially, the resolutions of the Society for the Relief of the Widows and Orphans of Clergymen, I beg to add my own expression of the deep sorrow which the event to which they refer has brought to my heart. I have lost from my side my near, personal, faithful friend, in whose atiection I confided, on whose judgment I constantly relied, and wlio was dear to me by the memory of a thousand kind acts. It is a comfort to remember such a man as he was, and a con- solation to feel how beautiful the example of his life, even to its fitting close. May God sustain, comfort, and bless you in this trial, is the prayer of your friend and servant, P. H. GREENLEAF. At a stated meeting of the Society for the Relief of the Widows and Orphans of Deceased Clergymen of the Protestant Episcopal Church, held at Boston, on Monday, December 1, 1851, — the Right Rev. the Bishop of the diocese in the chair, — the following pre- amble and resolutions were unanimously adopted : — Whereas it has pleased Almighty God, in his wise providence, to remove from the church militant here on earth our lamented friend and brother, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., late one of the trustees of this society, it is our desire, at this our first meeting since his decease, to place upon our records our sorrowful sense of this afflictive dispensation : therefore, — Resohed, That in his death we mourn the loss of a brother and fellow-laborer, long endeared to us, as members of this society, by the wisdom and excellence of his counsels ; and whose faithful and disinterested labors in the society, from the first day of its organi- zation, merit our high approval, and will ever be remembered by us with gratitude and affection. Resolved, That, in the sudden and unexpected manner in which our brother was called from among us, w-e receive the admonition to be diligent in that our hands find to do for the widow and 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 493 orphan, and to follow liini in his labors of love as he followed Christ. Resolved, That the secretary be directed to enter these resolu- tions on the records, and to transmit a copy thereof to the family of the deceased, and to request their insertion in the Christian Witness. BOSTON EPISCOPAL CHARITABLE SOCIETY. TO MRS. CKOSWELL. Friday, December o, 1851. Madam : The annexed resolutions were passed on Thursday last at the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Boston Episcopal Charitable Society. Permit me to add the expression of my own personal esteem of your husband, the late Rev. Dr. Croswell, and my regret at the great loss we have all met with. With respect, yours, HENRY BURROUGHS, Secretary. Copy from the Records of the Boston Episcopal Charitable Society, December 4, 1851. This board, since its last meeting, have had one of its members, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., taken from its midst by the sudden stroke of death. The survivors severally recognize the pro- priety of enduring submissively this departure of their associate and friend ; but they desire to record their affectionate regard for their com[)anion in office, and their participation in the general sorrow which his decease has produced. Therefore, — Resolved, That this board deeply lament the rupture of official relations with an associate whose ever ready and efficient aid in the execution of the benevolent designs of this society was given with intelligence, zeal, and constancy ; and this board also mourn their privation of a friend, whose guileless spirit, kindness of heart, Christian graces, with a pure and highly-cultivated mind, endeared him to all who knew him, and prompted and enabled him, on all occasions and under all circumstances, to be what he seemed to be. Resolved, That the members of this board sincerely sympathize with the relict and family of Dr. Croswell, and offer in their house of mourning unfeigned condolence in the distress brought upon them by Him who " does not willingly afflict or grieve the children of men." • Voted, That the secretary of this board furnish the widow of the Rev. Dr. Croswell with a copy of this record. 494 MEMOIK OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. SERMONS. On the Sunday following his decease, (the twenty-second after Trinity,) being the 16th of Novemlier, the Rev. Titus Strong, D. D., rector of St. .Tames's Church, Greenfield, preached a sermon in the Church of the Advent, which was subsequently published by request of the wardens and vestry. Dr. Strong had been long esteemed and venerated by the deceased, and they had lived on terms of great intimacy and affection for many years. In the subjoined extracts from this sermon, therefore, we are giving the testimony of one whose well-known candor and integrity would . forbid the idea that even the warm-hearted partiality of a friend could be suffered to warp his judgment, or give an undue coloring to his representations. Taking for his text the language of the evangelist in commendation of the faithful and devoted gospel laborer Barnabas, — " He was a good ?iian," (Acts xi. 24,) — he proceeds, after a snitable explanatory introduction, to portray the characteristics of what may be called, in the gospel sense of the term, a good man. In this delineation he enumerates some of the most prominent and striking qualities which constitute the character of the good man, and then applies the whole to his deceased friend : — " Because," he proceeds, " they were all so beautifully and har- moniously exhibited in the life of our departed brother, whose sudden decease has spread a mantle of gloom over this church and congregation, and filled the hearts of many friends with sadness and sorrow. They furnish, too, a source of consolation and sub- mission to the will of God, inasmuch as they warrant the belief that, in the adoption of such graces and attainments, he has gained, through the merits of the Savior, a fitness for the inheritance of the everlasting kingdom ; and that he has been summoned away from the associations and responsibilities, the duties, the cares, and the trials of earth to the rest and glory of heaven. In cultivating the virtues of the Christian spirit, his labor has not been in vain in the Lord. He exemplified in his daily walk and conversation all that was excellent and lovely in our holy religion. He was faithful unto death, and his reward is a crown of life. He had completed the work that was given him to do ; and with his armor on, and at the altar of his God, he received the message that required of him an account of his stewardship. That account, we doubt not, has been rendered with joy, and not with grief; and in the blessed communion of saints, connecting in one body the Church on earth and the assembly of the just made pei '>ct in hfeaven, he is hence- forth to be continually employed, with So-nts and martyrs, with angels and archangels, with cherubim and seraphim, in ascribing 1851.] TESTDIONIALS. 495 glory, and honor, riches, dominion, and power to Him that sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb tliat was slain. I mi|i;ht, on the present occasion, speak to you of his distinguished and varied ex- cellences as a man, of his acquirements as a scholar, of the aftahility of his manners, and the mildness of his disposition, of the brilliancy of his genius, the outpourings of his benevolence, and his integrity in all the relations of life. I might recall to your remembrance his wisdom in counsel, his prudence in action, the warmth and fidelity of his friendsliip, his sympathy with the afflicted and the desolate, his love of peace, and all those nameless attractions which made his presence every where so delightful, and which won for him, almost involuntarily, the dearest affections of all who knew him ; and a thousand trembling voices, and as many bleeding hearts, would bear witness to the truth of all that might be said in his praise. But it is better for us to dwell upon his character as unfolded in the sub- ject of our meditations, to look upon his course of faith, and prayer, and piety, to trace his progress as a servant and soldier of the cross, view him in his conflict with sin and with Satan, and to follow him on, through every change of labor and of trial, to the completion of the victory that has made him a pillar in the temple of his God, where he shall go no more out. " I know well how great is the loss of one so gifted, so eminent, and so useful to every circle with which he was associated. His writings, though not as numerous as his friends could have wished, have, nevertheless, extended his reputation throughout our land, and caused his name in distant climes to be enrolled with the names of Herbert, and Heber, and Reble. And, but for his gentle and re- tiring nature, he would long since have shone among the brightest stars of our literary firmament. " As a theologian, his reading was extensive, his acquirements were practical, and his judgment was most sound and enHghtened. But it was chiefly in the duties of the parish that he excelled. And you, my brethren, can never forget the interest that he has mani- fested in your welfare, the solicitude and earnestness with which he has endeavored to guide your feet into the pastures of salvation, and beside the living waters that flow from beneath the tree of life. He has, with great diligence and disinterestedness, been in and out before you as a faitiiful minister of the Lord Jesus Christ, coveting no man's silver or gold, and not counting his life dear unto him, so that he might finish his course with joy. He was, indeed, a burning and a shining light ; and, for a season, you have been per- mitted to rejoice in that light. Alas that it should be so suddenly extinguished ! Extinguished ? Not so. It has been removed into a higher and hoher temple, where it will shine with increasing lustre through the countless ages of eternity. God grant that you may be enabled to appreciate the beams that have already fallen from it upon 496 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [185L your paths, and be led by their histre through the duties and the changes of life, and the gloom that rests upon the valley of the shadow of death, to the renewal of your intercourse in the mansion? of immortal bliss. "I need not say how dear he was to his friends, how precious t:i them in the remembrance of his virtues and his love, and how ten- derly and affectionately they will cherish his memory. He has lei't them the rich legacy of his example ; and they will reckon it anion v their highest privileges that ihey were deemed worthy of his confi- dence and esteem. " I know not how to allude to the affliction that has fallen upon the scene of domestic love and peace. Blessed be God, the conso- lations of the gospel are with the bereaved and the saddened heart. The venerable parents, — the attached brothers, — the downcast widow and the fatherless child, — with connections and friends most dear and intimate, — we commend them to the grace of God, which can alone comfort and sustain them. He who casts down can lift up again ; he who wounds can heal ; and to every son and daughter of adversity the glorious assurance is given that all things shall work together for good to them that love God. " The dispensation of divine Providence which we are c'alled upon to improve speaks most impressively to the ministers of the everlasting gospel ; it bids them be instant, in season and out of season, watching for souls as men that must give account. It de- mands of them increased diligence in their work, more fervent prayer and self-denial, a fuller and deeper renunciation of the world and its' vanities, and a stronger desire to be made instruments in leading iTien to Christ. Our brethen, in quick succession, are passing away from us. The most brilliant and the most useful are continually leaving the scene of their labors in the Church below, and taking their place with the white-robed worshippers that bow before the throne. Our tears still fall for the men that stood as pillars in the temple of the IMost High : Jarvis, and Ogilby, and Boyle, — they have but just gone to their reward, and the kindred spirit of Croswell now joins them. " For you, my venerable friend and brother,* — the friend and brother, through many vicissitudes, of forty years, — the present is a season of no common calamity. He upon whom you have leaned only as we are allowed to lean upon an arm of flesh, with whom you have taken so much sweet counsel, and walked in the house of God in company, has fallen at your side, and first begun the march of eternity. But God, his God and your God, still remains. He * The Rev. Asa Eaton, D. D., formerly rector of Christ Church, in Boston, and long an attendant upon the ser-sdces (and a frequent assistant in the same) in the Church of the Advent : he was present when the blow came which terminated the life of his beloved friend and brother. 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 4^7 will be your comforter and supporter when earthly comforts and supports fail. He will guide and defend you through the remainder of your i)ilgrimage ; and, gided by his grace, so long your shield and defence, you will see again the loved ones who have gone be- fore you to the realms of light and life. " Brethren and friends, beloved in the Lord, we are placed in a changing and a transitory world. The most cherished associations of life are ever subject to dissolution. Our fathers, — where are they 1 and the prophets, — do they live forever 1 The parent and the child, the ruler and the subject, the teacher and the taught, are alike hastening on to the unseen world. But a few days, and this whole generation will have passed away. Other forms will be seen in our places, and dift'erent voices will be heard in our dwellings and our streets. Whatsoever, therefore, our hands find to do, let us do it with our might ; for there is no knowledge nor device in the grave whither we go. Let us work while it is day ; for the night Cometh in which no man can work. And may God Al- mighty give us grace to improve all events, whether of good or of evil, in such a manner that they may contribute to our preparatiojis for die mysteries of an unseen world and an eternal existence." On the same day a sermon was preached in St. Paul's Church, Boston, by the rector, the Rev. Alexander H. Vinton, D. D., and published by request of the parish. This was an act of pure mag- nanimity ; as it was entirely voluntary and unsolicited, and, as he himself intimates, could not have been claimed on the ground of any particular intimacy between himself and the deceased. Indeed, it was well known that they differed materially in opinion on some points of theology. Hence we record this testimony with the more gratification. The sermon is entitled, " The Translation of Elijah ; " and is founded on 2 Kings ii. 12. The opening ideas are so happily conceived, and so beautifully expressed, that we can- not deny ourselves the pleasure of copying them in full : — " ' My father, mi/ father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof This is a cry of sudden and sublime amazement. The event connected with it was one of two or three such as the world has never seen besides. It was the translation of the prophet Eli- jah, when he was lifted suddenly away from the earth, to inherit im- mortality without its usual antecedent death. The lot of all common men is, after the separation of soul and flesh, to live disembodied till the resurrection. It seems, however, to have been tiie divine pleasure to select a favored few to anticipate that period ; to spare them the pain and faintness of the death bed, the darkness of the tomb, and the dissolving of the flesh, and to receive them, soul and flesh immortalized at once, into his glory. So far as we can mark 63 498 ^lEMUlR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. this distinctioHj it has been conferred on those who stand out in the sacred history as chiefs and leaders in the several divine dispensa- tions to man. In the patriarchal age, Enoch is distinguished as most eminent for his saintly life ; and when he had ' walked with God ' for three hundred years, at a time when man's youth was older than our longevity, then, in the prime of his manhood, he suddenly ' was not, for God took him.' " In the second age, Moses was the leader of a new dispensation, and his departure was attended by circumstances so mysterious as to suggest the thought of a translation rather than a decease ; for although it is said that Moses died, yet it is likewise added that ' God buried him,' and that the place of his sepulture was never found. May not the statement that no man knew his grave, coupled with the remarkable expression which precedes it, warrant the con- clusion that he died merely in appearance, that is, he disappeared forever from human eyes 1 Man buries his dead in darkness, and dust, and decay ; but where is (iod's burial-place, if not in the depths of uncreated light 1 And what is his manner of burial, if it be not translation ? On this account, with others, many have supposed that the great chief of the Jewish dispensation was gathered, not to his fathers, but to the hosts above who never die. Something like this may be said of Him, the Lord of this last and best dis- pensation — the Lord whose name we bear, to whose glory we look. For although the death of Jesus was a literal separation of the spirit from the flesh, yet it was impossible he could be holden of death ; and when the transient estrangement was over, he trod the earth again with a living human frame ; and when, at length, he en- tered into his glory, and was buried from human eyes in a cloud of light, it was a translation of both soul and body to the immortality of heaven. " The prophet Elijah was the chief of a dispensation which, though subordinate to the others, was in its place indispensable, and no less divine. He was the great representative of the prophetic office. Reared in Israel, in a time of fearful defection of morals and of apostasy from the truth, he was the expounder of the divine will, the stern rebuker of iniquity in high places. He seemed to stand amidst the wickedness that surged around him like a beacon light in the sea. He repelled the tide of sins, and warned the careless sinner, always immovable, always, clear and true. When this re- markable person had fulfilled his ministry, he selected, by divine direction, for his successor, Elisha, who became, for a time, his dis- ciple and friend. These two were walking together on the day when it had been revealed to them that Elijah was to be taken away. And as they went on and talked, while a large number of the sons of the prophets stood upon a neighboring height to watch the issue, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire, 1851] TESTBIONIAI.S. 499 or, as some interpret it, a band of shining angels, which passed be- tween them and parted them asunder, and Ehjah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. Elisha saw it, and the overwhelming char- av^er of the bereavement seems to have amazed him. He felt the mighty loss t6 the cause of God and to his own people. The strength of Israel was departing with the ascending prophet. Wondering, feamg, and yet, no doubt, exulting with a triumph caught from this subli'.ne transaction, he cries with a sort of bewildered enthusiasm of grief and glory, ' My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof!' Thus was Elijah translated, that he should not see death, and carried bodily to heaven." This introduction is followed by a few obvious remarks, suggest- ed by the history, viz., 1. The first impression forced on the mind of Elisha of the suddenness of his bereavement. 2. The greatness of the change that came upon the prophet. 3. His being called to his glory not only in the meridian of his usefulness, but in the very act of usefulness. And then the preacher concludes : — " My brethren, I scarcely need say that my thoughts have been led to this subject by an event, which, since we last met together here, has startled and subdued so many minds of this community. The decease of a man and a minister like the Rev. William Cros- WELL might, at any time, occasion a wide lamentation. With a character to win the respect of the distant and the love of the near, he was, personally and professionally, a man of rare and exalted value. " I could not, if it were called for, delineate him so minutely as others who enjoyed more of his intimacy. Yet I knew him well enough to feel the bond of personal and Christian kindness wearing itself into my heart, where the feeling still lives, a remem- bered affection, full of sacred worth. " His general character is known to you as one which, while it was rich with the refinements of mind and feeling, was still a char- acter of strength and steadfastness. He was steadfast in principle, and so in practice ; strong in affection, and likewise in conscience ; always gentle, but never weak ; with as much of tenderness as could consist with so much of courage. Patient he was, exceedingly ; yet much more than manly in his patience, for he was devoutly Chris- tian. And as these qualities worked out into his professional life, they rendered him eminent for his practical benevolence, and for unwavering fidelity to the duties of his calling. Such as he was, he was cut down in the ripeness of his days ; and his death, so pecu- liar, was nearest to a translation. It was sudden, almost as if he had been rapt away by a rush of angels. Although there was more than one previous circumstance, which, from their correspondence with the event, now seem almost like the premonition to Elisha, — 500 MEMOIR OF \VILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. ' Kjiowest thou the Lord will take away thy head to-day? ' — still it was sudden. The change, we cannot doubt, was great and glorious ; from a life, with some of whose trials he had been sadly familiar, to another life in God's paradise, where his soul, swelling with the Savior's peace, remembers the wormwood and the gall no more. He was taken, too, at his post of labor and duty. His day's work as a prophet of God was just closed. His last teaching was to the children of his flock ; and while the words of instruction were yet warm, and the benediction trembled on his lips, the blow of grace fell, and they saw him no more living. " After the first shock and astoundment of grief, there seems a sort of splendor investing such a death. We almost covet the glory. Conscience, humility, hope, faith could ask no more than to be found at the post of sacred duty, and to go from prayer to praise. It is the death our departed brother would have wished to die ; and, with the grief it leaves behind, there is a feeling of holy ex ultation at witnessing so worthy a fulfilment of his saintly wish We, like the sons of the prophets who watched the translation of Elijah, behold it from our distance in sdent awe. But there is the parish from whom God has taken away its head ; there are the children who were blessed with liis last teaching. They may well cry out after him, as he has ascended, ' My father, my father, the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof! ' " My brethren, while our Christian sympathy flows out to the bereaved, may the life of our brother be an example, and his death an admonition to us, to untiring faithfulness in the work of God." Among this class of testimonials, we must not fail to record one, which, for earnest truthfulness, is not surpassed by any other. It is from the Rev. E. M. P. Wells, of St. Stephen's House, Boston, missionary to the poor, being the conclusion of his last annual report, under date of Advent eve, November 29, 1851 : — " And now, father, brothers, friends, there is a shade of sadness on the face — a tear in the eye — a cold spot in the heart where death has put his finger — for he hath taken away our brother. Excuse the selfishness of my sorrow in saying my brother, my fel- low-laborer to the poor. How they loved him ! because he was like his Master. They felt it, even though they thought not of the origmal. But it was so ; 'twas of Him he had learned to 'be pitiful, be courteous ' to the poorest, the humblest. How hard it is to be like him, so true, so simplf in doing good ! The distance was never too great for him to go to do good for Christ's sake — the storm was never too severe for him to find his way through it. to relieve a tossed and beaten sufferer — the night was never too late, nor too 1851.] TESTIMOXIALS. 501 dark, for him to find Iiis way to bear the cross with its consolations to the bed of death. " In his death, our society has lost the last of its original life members, and the poor have lost a Croswell. "Farewell, brother! I see, in the path of thy beautiful exodus, the light of thy example lingering bright like a milky way in the spiritual sky." On the 7th of December, the second Sunday in Advent, the Right Rev. Bishop Doane, at the request of the wardens and vestry, de- livered a discourse in the Church of the Advent, commemorative of the late rector. This discourse was published in a pamphlet form, and was also inserted in the ensuing number of the Church Review, and had an extensive circulation throughout the cotmtry. We have already freely availed ourselves of some interesting facts and state- ments from this most able and characteristic discourse ; but there are still some portions of it, which so truly depict the life and character of the deceased, — by the hand of one who knew him, we will venture to say, better than any other man, — that our work might be deemed incomplete without them. Prefixed to this discourse are the following beautiful stanzas, written, as it will be seen by the date, on the day after the death of this " next friend and more than brother." These lines have already appeared in several periodicals, and are doubtless familiar to many friends ; but we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of giving them a permament place in these pages : — WILLIAM CROSWELL: POET, PASTOR, PRIEST; ENTERED INTO LIFE, SUNDAY, NINTH NOVEMBER, (tWENTY-FIRST AFTER TRINITY,) MDCCCIil. I DID not think to number thee, my Croswell, with the dead,* But counted on thy loving lips to soothe my dying bed. To watch the fluttering flood of life ebb languidly away, And point my spirit to the gate that opens into day. My " more than brother " thou hast been for five and twenty years, In storm and shine, in grief and joy, alike in smiles and tears ; Our twin-born hearts so perfectly incorporate in one, That not the shadow of a thought e'er marred their unison. * The Friday before was his forty- seventh buthday. 502 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [185L Beside me, in life's highest noon, to hear the bridegroom's voice Thy loving nature fondly stood, contented to rejoice ; Nor boon, that ever bounteous Heaven bestowed on me or mine. But bore for thee a keener joy than if it had been thine. Thy fingers, at the sacred font, when God my hearth had blessed. Upon my first-born's brow the dear baptismal rite impressed ; My second born, thine own in Christ, our loving names to blend, And knit for life his father's son in with his father's friend. And when our patriarchal White, with apostolic hands, Committed to my trembling trust the Savior's dread commands. Thy manly form * and saintly face were at my side again — Thy voice a trumpet to my heart, in its sincere Amen. Beside thee once again be mine, accepted priest, to stand And take with thee the pastoral palm from that dear Shepherd's hand, As thou hast followed Him, be mine in love to follow thee. Nor care how soon my course be run, so thine my rest may be. O beautiful and glorious death ! with all thy armor on ; f While, Stephen-like, thy placid face out, like an angel's, shone.| The words of blessing § on thy lips had scarcely ceased to sound Before thy gentle soul with them its resting-place had found. O pastoral and priestly death ! poetic as thy life — A little child to shelter in Christ's fold from sin and strife ; || Then, by the gate that opens through the cross for such as she,1I To enter in thyself, with Christ forevermore to be ! G. W. D. RiTEiisiDE, lOtk November, 1851. Among the biographical sketches, which constitute a considerable portion of this discourse, the following is valuable, as throwing much light on the character and ministrations of the deceased: — * «' lu person, Dr. Ceoswell was a very pattern of manly beauty." — Bos- ton Evening Traveler. t The epistle for the day contained- St. Paul's graphic description of " the whole armor of God." His last words, in giving out the hymn, were, — " Soldiers of Chiist, arise And put your armor on." I " He never looked so heavenly. His smile upon the infant was ineffable in sweetness." — MS. Letter. § Unable to rise after the closing coUect, he said the benediction on his knees. He died in two hours. A blood vessel was ruptured in his brain. II He had just baptized an infant ; and his sermon was addressed to children. H " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 503 " Four years he ministerecb as rector of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, earnestly, faithfully, most acceptably, and most successfully. But Boston had been the scene of the labors of his earliest love. His tastes and habits inclined him to a city life. The bonds of nature drew this way. And more than all, his heart was yearning,' to dissolve itself upon a ministry among the poor. It was no recent passion. It was the sacred fancy of his youth. Hours and hours had we discoursed of it together. His labors, while connected with Christ Church, had partaken largely of that character. He had been every body's minister, that had no other. He had qualified himself to be the servant of Christ's poor ; and, in his yearning nature, he could brook no other service." After giving a detailed account of the organization of the Church of the Advent, the settlement of the rector, and the unparalleled suc- cess of the enterprise, as shown by the official statistics, the discourse proceeds : — "These are encouraging statistics. This is a wonderful result. It is an enterprise perplexed by hinderances. There is the prejudice against it that it is new, when, in fact, it is the apostolic way. And there are private personal prejudices, of pride, of selfishness, of incredulity, of inexperience, of settled habit. I never knew a man that was so well fitted to contend with all these prejudices and overcome them. In the first place, he was filled full with the spirit of Christ. He was, emphatically, ' a man of loves.' His heart was large enough to take in all the world. His generosity was un- bounded. . . . And his kindness was as considerate and delicate, in all its details, as it was boundless in its comprelicnsion. He knew the very thing to do, the very word to say, the very time and place to do it and to say it. And of this discriminating propri- ety, the poor have a most keen and accurate perception. And his faith was equal with his love. He was certain that it was the ancient way, and must be right. With such a confidence, he could atFord to wait. He did not fix the time for his results. He would go on, and find them when they came. Then he was wonderful in his humility. He esteemed every other better than himself He cared not what the service was, so he could do it ; or for whom it was, so it would be received. And from his humility there sprang a beautiful simplicity, which was a letter of universal commendation. He was a gentleman not only, but the gentlest man. No man ever was more acceptable to the refined and intellectual. No man had ever easier access to the poor, the ignorant, the vicious, tlie de- graded. He won their confidence at once. And the more they saw of him, the more they trusted. He was so considerate of theii feelings. He was so charitable to their infirmities He was so 604 MEMOm OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. ^1853. constant in his assiduity. He knew the strings in every broken heart ; and had, from God, the medicine to heal their hurts. He seemed a ministering angel to them : and they glorified God in him. But, especially, he was so unreserved in his self-sacrifice. One says of him, (in a letter to the preacher,) 'Dr. Croswell was instant, in season and out of season. He never was known to refuse any call for service or duty.' And another, than whom no living man knows better what Christ's servant with the poor should be, speaks thus of him, in words which, coming from the heart, go to it." Here follows the extract, given on a preceding page, from the Annual Report of the Rev. E. M. P. Wells. And the preacher then proceeds : — "How plainly I can see him now, with his old cloak wrapped about him, which he would gladly have given to the next poor man, if he had thought it good enough for him ; and with his huge over- shoes, which, when he put them on so deliberately, would always bring to mind what the apostle said about having the ' feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace.' As he set out upon his ministry of mercy, you might think him very slow, and doubt if he would find his way, and wonder when he would get back, or if he ever would. But, ere he slept, he would have threaded every darkest and most doleful lane in the most destitute quarter of the city, dived into cellars, and climbed garrets, comforted a lonely widow, prayed by a dying sailor, administered the Holy Communion to an old bedridden woman, carried some bread to a family of half- starved children, engaged a mother to be sure and send her youngest (^ughter to an infant school, and ' made a sunshine ' in the shadiest places of human suflfering and sorrow. And when all this was done, if he had time for it, he would charm the most refined and intellectual with his delightful conversation and his pure and lambent playfulness. With a manner that seemed quite too quiet, there was an undercurrent of ceaseless, irrepressible activity; and brightest thoughts, in happiest words, were ever oozing out, like fragrant gums from some East Indian tree, as soft, as sweet, as balmy, as balsamic. ' He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.' I may add as justly, ' exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading.' He had an intuition for good books and the best parts of them, as he .-iad also for good men.* With all he did, and with the little that he seemed to do, — the very reverse of Chaucer's sergeant, who 'seemed busier than he was,' — he was at home in all good Enghsh * One of the keenest knowcrs I have ever met observed of him that his knowledge of men was most remarkable. " It was hard to get his judgment," he remarked ; " but when you had it, it was a good one. He was a staff that you might lean on, sure that it would neither bend nor break." 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 505 learning, with perfect mastery among the poets. His classical attain- ments were mucli beyond the average. He was a well-read divine; and, beyond any man I knew, was « mighty in the Scri))tures,' and skilful in his application of them. His sermons were entirely prac- tical. The object of his preaching was apparent always — to make men better. He sunk himself entirely in his theme — Christ Jesus, and him crucified. He had no manner. Yet the perfect conviction which he carried with him from the first, that he was really in earnest, made him attractive to all sorts of people, high and low, rich and poor, wise and simple, ignorant and learned, and made him profitable to all. And whatever his discourse might be, in matter or in manner, there was the cogent application always of a holy and consistent life. His habits were simple, almost to severity. ' Having food and raiment,' he was ' therewith content.' What re- mained, after necessities were met, was so much for the poor. He was a Churchman of the noblest pattern — a Cliurclnnan of the Bible and of the Prayer Book — a Churchman with Andrews, and Taylor, and Wilson. If he was least tolerant of any form of error, it was that of Papal Rome. He would have burned, if need had been, with Latimer and Ridley. He made no compromise with novelties, but always said, ' The old is better.' There was no place for the fantastic in his churchmanship ; it was taken up too much with daily work, and daily prayer, and daily caring for the poor. There was no antagonism between his poetry and practice. His poetry was practical. It was the way-flower of his daily hfe ; its violet, its cowslip, or its pansy.* It sprang up where he walked. You could not get a letter from him, though made up of the details of business or the household trifles of his hearth, that some sweet thought (as natural as it was beautiful) would not bubble up above tlie surface with prismatic hues that marked it his. His heart was wholly in the jiriesthood. He loved to pray. He loved to minister the sacrament. He loved to preach. He loved to catechize the children. And, when he lifted up his manly voice in the old hymns and anthems of the Church, it seemed as if a strain of the eternal worship had strayed down from heaven. He was so modest and retiring that few knew him well. But there is no one that knew him well that will not say, with me, ' We shall not look upon his like again.' If he excelled in any one relation after his service to Christ's poor, it was in all the acts and oflSces of friendship. He was a perfect friend. So delicate, so thoughtful, so candid, so loving, so constant. 'More than my brother ' for a quarter of a century, I * How fond he was of flowers ! Beautiful tributes of this kind went -vdth him into the grave. He was a fond lover of music too. He not only took a leading part in the music of the church, but employed liis exquisite taste in its selection ; so that its whole character was singularly tender, touching, and impressive. 64 506 MEMOIR OF ^\TLLIAM CROSWELL. |1851, dare not trust myself to speak of what he was to me, of what I know I was to him." But we must desist ; and, with one more selection, we must close our testimonials from the pulpit. The following extracts are from a sermon delivered by the Lord Bishop of Fredericton in the Church of the Advent, on the evening of Good Friday, April 9, 1852. The theme of the sermon was the Cross of Christ. " But then, on the other hand, we have learned to look on the cross in a right light, not only as a thing to be borne for us, but worn for us ; worn, I mean, not as one of the world's show trinkets, but within our very flesh, as our sore, inward, daily burden. If, by these wounds imprinted and fastened on our souls, we can discern, or hope we can discern, some evidences of our faith, our likeness to Him who was bought so cheaply, sold so infamously, weighed in human balances and found wanting, though not in the balances of the sanctuary, then will this holy week, this looking on the cross to-day, this himible, earnest, duteous gaze on Him whom our sins have pierced, be at once our comfort and our sorrow, our assurance and our fear, our warning and our safeguard. " It is this, the one-sided, partial view of the cross, which is so dangerous, — the seeing in Christ only our example, not our surety, — looking on him only as our justifier, not our pattern. Let us behold him as both the one and the other, and in that blessed image be changed from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the Lord. For what if the cross be to flesh and blood most discom- fortable ; what is there of real comfort in the world without the cross ? Where do the bereaved and the orphan, the fatherless child, the sorrowing relatives, the languishing, the oppressed, and the solitary, in this boiling flood of agitation, our modern world, — where do these troubled ones find comfort but beneath the cross ? It was here that your honored and beloved pastor found it. He raised the symbol on high in this place — he impressed it on your hearts, not to direct your meretricious worship to a paltry ornament, but to guide your most sacred affections and remembrance to the great original. He recommended it to you, not merely as an out- ward symbol, but, by his own example, (through the inward grace obtained from above,) by the meekness with which he bore it, by the sympathy with which he carried its healing balm into the houses of the desolate, the diseased, and the lost, by the truth with which he preached it, by the firmness with which he died embracing it, holding with both hands — engraved on his heart, secured by his unshaken faith — this divine, this glorious truth, which his succes- sor has delivered to us this morning. It is finished ! it is finished ' My Lord is mine, and I am his. 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 507 " Thus, then, let us hold it ; looking off from him whose name and virtues we thankfully and affectionately remember, and from all names beside, into that one name ' which is above every name,' and which alone is worthy to bear the weight of our affections, and to receive all the praise and glory we poor sinners can give. To Him and to Him alone, who by his cross and precious blood has redeemed and regenerated, and doth sanctify, and will glorify us, — if we continue faithful unto death, — to Him, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen ! " There is yet another testimonial to produce, incidental indeed, but none the less valuable on that account. It is a passage in the argument of R. H. Dana, Esq., on the trial of the Rev. O. S. Pres- COTT for heresy — a trial on charges, founded chiefly on public rumor. Mr. Dana, after depicting, in true and glowing colors, the vile characteristics of public rumor, goes on to say, — " Public rumor ! I was educated to despise it. A sound, well- conceived public opinion, on a subject upon which public opinion can intelligently act, I regard with due respect ; but mere rumor I should be ashamed to own as a motive for one moment or one action of my life. When the counsel for the prosecution passed his eulogy on the memoi-y of the late Dr. Croswell, I could not but think what a rebuke his whole life was to public rumor. If ever a man was the destined victim of public rumor, that man was William Croswell. Not left to its low haunts, but elevated to the dignity of episcopal sanction, promulgated by episcopal proclamation, (of the general or canonical propriety of which I do not now wish to speak,) it charged him with ' degrading the character of the Church, and perilling the souls of our people.' * But, in patience and con- fidence, he lived it all down! He went forward in the due discharge of his noble duties, in daily prayers, daily public service, daily min- istrations to the poor, and sick, and afflicted, not without much suffering from the relentless attacks on his name and usefulness — sufferings which shortened his days on earth ; and the daily beauty of his life made ugly the countenance of detraction and defamation. Public confidence, a plant of slow growth, grew about him. Public justice was rendered to him without a movement of his own. He fell at his post, with all his armor on. About the time of the even- ing sacrifice the angel touched him, and he was called away. He fell, with his face to his altar, with the words of benediction on his lips, surrounded by an almost adoring congregation, mourned * This allusion will be understood by recurring to page 359 of the preceding Memoir. 508 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851. by an entire community. All men rose up and called him blessed. From the distinguished rector of St. Paul's Church, in his noble sermon from the text, ' My father, my father, the horses of Israel and the chariots thereof! ' to the humblest orphan child in the ob- scure alley who missed his daily returning visit — all, all, with one accord, sent up their voices as incense to heaven. I had the honor and privilege to be one of the i'ew who, seven years before that day, received him on his entrance into the city to take charge of his infant parish. I am proud and grateful to remember that I was one of those on whom, in his long struggle, in a measure, according to my ability, he leaned for support. And seven years, almost, I be- lieve quite, to the very day, I had the melancholy privilege, with that same company, of bearing his body up that aisle which he had so often ascended in his native dignity and in the beauty of holiness ! " I should be an unworthy parishioner, pupil, I may say friend, of his, if I allowed myself to defer for a moment to public rumor on a question of character or principle. I should be forgetful of his example if I allowed any one to do so who looked to me for counsel and direction. No, gentlemen, let us all, lay or reverend, call to mind his life and his death ; and let public rumor blow over us as the idle wind, poisonous only to those who open their senses to receive it." Among the first testimonials of private friendship presented to the bereaved widow were the following poetical effusions from Wil- liam Croswell Doane, godson of the deceased. They were ac- companied by a note, saying, " My heart would think them, and my pen would write them. I trust you will look at them only in the light of a humble expression of my sorrowing sympathy in our great bereavement." W. C. OBT. NOVEMBER 9, 1851. ** so HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP." A faithful soldier is asleep, W.'tn his Master's armor on ; And his Master's sign upon his brow, To his peaceful rest he's gone. It is not strange God let him die, When he had fought so well. And kept the faith — though sad it be For our poor hearts to feel. Beside my second father's bier I stood in silence bowed ; 1851.] TES'miONIALS. 509 His priestly robe was round his form — A surplice for a shroud. And so he sleeps, as soldier should, With all his armor on. And a happy smile upon his lips For the conquest he has won. We pray for " Christ's Church militant " Each Sunday morn, at home ; And the day that my godfather died, E'er the sad news had come, In it we blessed God for this saint. Who died in faith and fear, And, knowing not, we prayed to die Like him who sleepeth here. Pnos Bank, November 11, 1851. W. C. D. W. C. D. TO W. C. IN HEAVEN. My sainted second father, now, With tears that will have way, My eyes gaze on the precious lines You sent me one birthday,* To mind me how four years before, Around the stream of life, Your voice made promise, in my stead, To arm me for the strife. And now that voice is hushed in death, And pulseless is the hand That promised me a deathless love, Knit in such sacred band ; And all the words and acts of love Thy gentle spirit gave, Are dearer far now thou'rt asleep Within thy peaceful grave. O God, in whose all-blessed name Our union first was sealed, Remind me of Ms faithful life And labors in thy field : And such as his was be my course. That so it may be given. When I have " fought my fight," to meet My godfather in heaven. EiVEESiDE, December 19, 1851. * For a copy of these lines, see page 137. mo MEMOm OF WnXIAM CROS^\^LL. [1851. The following tribute of private friendship is drawn from a letter of J. P. CouTHOUY, Esq., now residing in Brownville, Texas, ad- dressed to his sister, in Boston, and accompanied by a package of letters of the deceased, with permission to employ such portions of them as might be found necessary in making out the preceding memoir. This, it is presumed, will not be deemed an extravagant or overdrawn eulogium, when the close and cordial intimacy of the parties is duly considered. In reference to the published testimo- nials received from his sister, he says, — "You would have felt repaid could you have known all the confl- fort they brought my aching heart in those bitter hours of grief and darkness that followed my first tidings of the removal of that most beloved friend, with whom ... all that constitutes true friendship and makes the hfe of those who share in it delightful, has passed away from mi/ life forever. No, never on earth can the place he held in my love be filled. How, in the nature of things, could it 1 And were it possible, I could not wish it. More dear to me the memory of all that he was and gave to me than could be any joy in newer friends. I can feel the force of the divine saying, ' Where the treasure is there will the heart be also : ' and would not exchange what I possess in him for any kept in earthen vessels ; though in the weakness of our nature I cannot yet repress an emo- tion of bitter anguish at the thought that he is gone, even while I feel and rejoice that it is to his exceeding great reward, and would not that he were yet of us who have still to fight the battle with sin and temptation, — enemies without, and yet worse within, — out of which he has come triumphant. It may be that [ am not alone in the feeling, but it seems to me as if no one could have loved him with the peculiar afl^ection that was mine ; and I expe- rience an emotion akin to jealousy when I read of others claiming to have known and appreciated his worth and the beauty of his character equally with myself. As memory wanders back to the golden period of our first friendship, when both were in the prime of young manhood, when we were inseparable as lovers, and the passage of a day without our meeting was a matter of marvel, and tlie one had scarcely a thought or hope that was not known to or shared by the other, I cannot but ask myself who, at least among his later friends, could know and love the man Ckoswell, as 1 ? How my heart swells at the recollection of the happy hours we have passed together, heart answering to heart, or wandered out from the thronged city without any definite object, yet of a surety, not unprofitably. What wisdom, clothed in noble simplicity, what volumes of unwritten poetry of the loftiest character, were wont, in those genial rambles, to be poured fortli by him in lavish profusion! Never may I liope to meet with such wealth of ideas 1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 511 in any one man again. And it was the deep, yet unaffected, re- ligious feeling that pervaded all he said or did, that was the greatest charm about him. He not only saw all the ' beauty of holiness ' himself, but had the rare gift of making it apparent to all who came in contact with him. I do not fear, dear E., to weary you with too much speech of our friend, even though I can say nothing new ; and besides, there is no other topic in which we are so mutually interested. You may imagine how deeply I was moved by the evi- dences of his continued affection and sympathy contained in the box lately received from home ; and by the same package that held the acceptable marks of his interest in our infant parish, to find Dr. Vinton's beautiful tribute to his memory. It was not till then that my loss was fully realized. On you, who were present when the summons went forth for him to meet the Bridegroom, who were privileged to look upon ' the last of earth,' the blow, terrible as it was, could hardly have fallen with such bewildering effect as it did on me. You were able to familiarize yourselves, in some measure, with the sad truth before he was taken from your sight forever ; and now that he is not, I imagine that had such a privilege been mine, the loss had been far easier borne. Yet who shall say ? The heart of each one knoweth only its own bitterness ; and, doubtless, many find it hard as I to drain this chalice. God grant that the myrrh it contains may be for the health of all our souls." The following lines from the graceful and well-practised pen of Mrs. SiGOURNEY, first appeared in " The Calendar," and are trans- ferred to these pages with peculiar gratification : — CHRISTMAS MEMORIES OF THE LATE REV. DR. WILLIAM CROS\VELL. Meek ruler of the sacred lyre, Of genius true and bright, Whose thoughts were like the hymning choir That cheer the temple rite : Hark ! hear we not those lays once more In lively numbers glide. And to our Lord glad descant pour At blessed Christmas-tide ? * " Now gird your patient loins again ; Your wasting torches trim ; The chief of all the sons of men — Who will not welcome Him ? * Extract from an Advent Hymn, by Rev. Dr. W. Croswell ; see page 9.i of this work. 512 MEMOm or WILLLIM CR0S\VELL, [1851. Rejoice ! the hour is near — at length The Journeyer on his way, Comes in the greatness of his strength To keep his holy day. " With woven wreaths and garlands sweet, Along his wintry road, Conduct him to his green retreat. His sheltered, safe abode ; Fill all his courts with sacred songs, And from the temple wall Wave verdure o'er the faithful throngs That keep the festival." Deep silence checks the poet's strain, — And yet a little space It seems since with a gathered train, In yonder hallowed place,* He gladly swelled the loud response, Or chant of solemn mirth. Amid the band of white-robed priests Who hailed a bishop's birth. But soon, while on a listening throng Eternal truths he prest. The pale-browed angel chained the tongue That fain his flock had blest : And sudden, with a hghtning blow. Cut short his work of love ; — His Sabbath prayer was breathed below, His Sabbath praise above. L. H. S. Christmas, 1851. The subjoined verses are inscribed on a well-executed monu- mental piece, drawn by Mrs. Cobb, and presented to the bereaved widow, with the following note: — My dear Mrs. Croswell : It has given me great pleasure to paint this little piece for you, which I wish you to accept as a slight memento of the respect and affection I cherished for your dear de- parted husband. I hope it will be as pleasant for you to look upon * He was present at the consecration of the assistant bishop of Connecticut, in St. John's Church, Hartford, and apparently in perfect health, but ten days before his death. 1851.] TESTDIONIALS. 513 as it was to me to draw ; and I sliall feel more than compensated for the time bestowed on it. Beheve me yours, very affectionately, P. B. COBB. Ca.m, on the bosom of thy God, Blest spirit, rest thee now ; E'en while on earth thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow home beneath ; Soul, to its place on high ; — Those who have seen thy smile in death, Need never fear to die. Were it consistent with a true sense of delicacy, the biographer might add greatly to tlie number of unpuonshed testimonials of pri- vate friendship, both in poetry and prose, and especially in the form of letters of condolence addressed to the parents, and to the widow and child of the deceased. But he must content himself with such brief extracts as may serve to illustrate some of the prom- inent points in his life and character. The Rev. Dr. Coix, his intimate friend and contemporary, to his father, Hartford, November 12, 1851 : — " I have known him for more than thirty years, and I have never known any tiling of him which it is not pleasant to remember. He was a kind and affectionate friend to me when we were near each other ; and it was always a gratification rather than a labor, to aid him professionally. It seemed to give him pleasure to have me with him on saints' days; and the last time I recollect preaching for him was on such an occasion. He appeared to relish such labors, ' out of season,' with the zest of a Geo. Herbert. . . Most particularly do I regret, that in the hurry of the late conse- cration day, I was not able so much as to take bis hand. We knelt side by side at the cha'icel and received tiie elements together, and his devout tones are yet familiar to my ear. It seems as if he was stricken down at my very side, and makes the blow nearer to me. Blessed be God that I can believe it was the last of his sorrows forevermore." The Right Rev. Bishop Southgate, his successor to the rector- ship of the Advent, to his father, July 19, 1852 : — " How deep a hold your son had upon the affections of the parish, I have almost daily opportunity to witness, especially 65 514 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. among the poor and the afflicted ; and I have no doubt there are those among us who look back to their intercourse with him as embracing the most pleasant reminiscences of their Hves, and for- ward to their reunion with him as among their most joyful hopes. He did his work faithfully and well, and I know no man of modern times whose last years were so much like the life of a confessor, or whose death was so much like that of a martyr. I often think of his present state and future bliss, as having a far richer endow- ment of happiness than will fall to the lot of most of the laborers in the vineyard of the Lord. Most peculiarly did he leave his judg- ment with God ; most peculiar, therefore, will be his defence and exaltation in the last great day. As for the parish, I know of no feeling more frequently in my mind than this — that if it should prosper and become permanent and widely influential, one of my strongest emotions of happiness in contemplating it at that height will be in seeing that it is a noble and fitting monument to the memory of him who laid its foundation. May that memory never cease from among us ! " Another testimonial, incidental in its nature, but none the less striking and significant, is found in the following dedication of " A Selection of Ancient Psalm Melodies, adapted to the Canticles of the Church in the United States of America," published by Dr. F. E. Oliver, in Boston, 1852 : — " To the memory of the late Rev. William Croswell, D. D., Rector of the Church of the Advent, whose exquisite taste in all that adds dignity and beauty to the solemn service of the sanctuary was alone surpassed by his zeal and fidelity as a priest in the Church of God, this Collection of Sacred Chants is dedicated.' THE COMMEMORATION. At the expiration of a year from the demise of the late rector, commemorative services were held in the Church of the Advent, under the direction of the new incumbent, the Right Rev. Bishop SouTHGATE, of which he gives the following explanation, intro- ductory to the sermon preached on the occasion, by the Rev. A. C. CoxE, of Hartford : — " It had been proposed, soon after the decease of Dr. Croswell, that some appropriate commemoration of him should be had, and that a sermon should be preached upon the occasion. The circum- 1862.] THE COMMEMORATION. ,515 stances which prevented the fulfilment of this, the universal wish of his parishioners, need not here be detailed. When the present writer succeeded to the rectorship of the Church of the Advent, several months had passed since Dr. Croswell's decease. It then appeared untimely to execute the plan proposed. The fitting moment had gone by ; and the writer, wishing also himself to render a tribute to the memory of his predecessor, was fain to wait until some future hour should bring the thoughts of his parishioners again into fresh contact with the departed. The anniversary of his death seemed a proper moment for the purpose. The associations of the event would then be revived. The scenes of the same day a year before, would, in memory, be repeated. How appropriate to make this the hour of commemoration — to fulfil the purpose which would have been ex- ecuted twelve months ago, if untoward hindrances had not prevented ! The writer accordingly invited several of his clerical brethren, bishops and priests, friends of the deceased, to aid him in the commemo- ration. All came who could come. The absence of the venerable father of the departed, though unavoidable, was, of all the absences, most deeply regretted. The services (briefly to recapitulate them) were as follows : — " Morning prayer at 9, A. M. — The Rev. Henry Burroughs, Jr., late rector of St. John's Church, Northampton, commenced the service. The Rev. W. L, Childs, priest associate in the Church of the Advent, Boston, read the lessons. The Rev. T. Edson, D. D., rector of St. Anne's Church, Lowell, said the Nicene Creed and the prayers. The Introit was the ^Sd psalm of the Psalter. The ante-communion service was read by the Rev. A. L. Baury, late rector of St. Mary's Church, Newton Lower Falls, the Rev. Asa Eaton, D. D., reading the epistle. The first two verses of the 212th hymn were sung after the gospel. The Rev. W. L. Childs said the offertory and the prayer for the church militant. The exhor- tation, invitation, and confession were read by the Rev. A. C. CoxE, rector of St. John's Church, Hartford, Conn. The absolution was pronounced by the Right Rev. Horatio Southgate, D. D., rector of the Church of the Advent, who also read the sentences following. The Trisagion was sung by the choir and people. The prayer of preparation, the consecration, the oblation, and invocation were said by Bishop Southgate. The last two verses of the 93d hymn were sung. The holy sacrament was administered to the clergy present, ten in number, by Bishop Southgate, and to a large body of the laity by the Rev. Dr. Eaton and the Rev. Mr. Baury. The Rev. Mr. Baury said the post-communion office ; the Gloria in Ex- celsis was sung by the choir and people ; and the benediction was pronounced by the rector of the church. 516 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. ^^ Evening prayer at half past seven, P. M. — The Rev. P. H. Greenleaf, rector of St. Mark's Church, Boston, commenced the service. The 5th selection of Psahns was sung by the choir and people. The Rev. N. Hoppin, rector of Christ Church, Cambridge, read the lessons. The Rev. T. R. Lambert, chaplain U. S. N., said the creed and prayers. The 132d psalm of the Psalter was sung from the 8th verse inclusive. The Rev. Mr. CoxE preached the sermon.* The offertory and prayer for the Church militant were said by the Rev. .T. P. Robinson, rector of the Free Church of St. Mary for Sailors, Boston. The 88th hymn (the hymn announced by Dr. Croswell after the stroke of death had fallen upon him) was sung. The collect for All Saints' day, and the first prayer in the office for the burial of the dead, were said by the Rev. Mr. Baury. The benediction was pronounced by the rector. " The offertory for the day amounted to nine hundred and forty dollars — of which two hundred and eiglity-seven dollars, being con- tributed by the ladies of the parish for the special object of erecting a monument as a ' tribute of affection ' at tlie grave of the de- ceased, was so appropriated ; and the remainder added to the fund for the building of a new Church of the Advent — a nobler monu- ment still to his memory. " And now, what shall the writer say of the day itself and the spirit which animated it 1 It was most joyous, yet most serene. There was no perturbation, no excitement, hardly any sensible motion. All moved on so quietly, so placidly, yet so cheerfully, that the flow was like that of a stream, far away from the world, through still groves — like the movement, he imagined, of the pure river of the water of life which proceedeth out of the throne of God and of the Lamb. All the day long there oscillated through his mind the thought of Herbert's line — ' O day, most calm, most bright ! ' H. S. Church of the Advent, Boston, November 23, 1852." Boston, JVovember 9, 1852. Reverend and dear Sir : We, the clergy present and officiating at the services in the Church of the Advent to-day, and several of the laity there present, respectfully request the publication of your sermon delivered this evening in commemoration of the late Rev. Dr. Croswell, believing that * The faithful witness ; or, the pastoral work and character, as exemplified in the life and death of William Ckoswell, U. D., first rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston ; being a sermon preached in said church on the first anniversary of his death, November 9, 1852, by A. C. Coxe, M. A., rector of St. John's Church, Hartford, Conn. 1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 517 it will be a fit and appropriate memorial of his superior character and inval- uable labors as a parish priest, and that it may thus serve as a model for those who aspire to excellence in the pastoral office, while it will furnish a useful lesson to the laity in their relations to the clerjjy and the Church of God. Faithfully, your friends and brethren, IIOKATIO SOUTUGATE, ASA EATON, ALFRED L. BAUUV, TtiEOBORE EDSON, THUS. U. LAMI5EUT, JOHN P. ROBINSON. NICHOLAS HOI'RIN, W. L. CHILDS, THERON METCALE, WILLIAM FOSTER OTIS, G. C. SUATTL'CK, Jr., JOHN P. TARBELL, FYTCHE EDWARD OLIVER, RICHARD H. SALTER, RICHARD U. DA^A, Jr., HENRV M. PARKER, HENRY T. PARKER, J. H. WAKEFIELD, JOSEPH BURNETT, DANIEL CHAMBERLIN. Hartford, JVbvember 20, 18.'52. Right reverend Sir, reverend Brethren, and Gentlemen: It givea me pleasure to receive your favorable opinion of my endeavor to preach ap- propriately on so suggestive a subject as that of the life and character of the late Dr. Croswell. If my sermon can be rendered further serviceable to his parishioners and friends by its publication, I am not at liberty to with- hold it ; and I herewith submit it to your disposal. I remain your obedient servant, A. C. COXE. The Rt. Rev. Dr. Southoate, Rev. Dr. Eaton. Hon. Theron Metoalf, TO THE REV. ASA EATON, D. D. Reverend Doctor: When I reflect how much your venerable example has contributed to the progress and stability of the Church of the Advent; how much your daily converse comforted and strengthened the great heart of its departed rector ; and how you received his last sigh, and dismissed his spirit out of this miserable world, in the commendatory words of our mother the Church, — I cannot but hope you will accept this brotherly tribute to his memory, and by so doing confer a favor upon me. Let me add a fer- vent prayer, that your gray hairs, which are declared to be a crown of glory to the servants of God, may long be permitted to bow daily in the accus- tomed place before the altar ; and that your presence may thus animate the faith and perseverance of many, before you shall be called to that better crown of glory which fadeth not away. I remain. With veneration and affection. Your faithful servant, A. C. C. Hartford, JVovemher, 1852. SUB MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. SERMON. "Br IT HE BEINO DEAD TEX SPEAKETH." — Beb. xL 4. In all its relations to mortality, the gospel of Jesus Christ illus- trates its origin from God by its wonderful adaptation to the wants of man. Death and the grave, which mock all human systems, put the crowning witness to the religion of Hlm who hath brought life and immortality to light. Hence it was that Jesus and the resurrection were the burden of apostolic testimony, appealing so tenderly to the greatest of human miseries as to win the ear, and arrest the conscience, of intelUgent heathenism, when they would have been deaf to any thing less fimdamental and complete. Life from the dead became the great idea of the gospel, as the glorious correlative of the remission of sin ; and, at once, the converted nations enshrined it, in all places, where despair had reigned before. No more the sepulchre was inscribed with symbols of decay and extinction : the urn and the inverted torch gave place to the ark and the sprouting branch ; and the wail of eternal sepa- ration was transformed into the sweet song of expectation and of promise. Something indeed was indulged to the natural feelings of momentary bereavement : the Christian might sorrow, but not as without hope ; and when devout men carried Stephen to his burial, they made great lamentation over him, but not as forgetting his dying rapture in the vision of his Savior, or the fact with which the evangelist concludes his story — the fact that all the cruel blows and peltings of his martyrdom could do no more than make him fall asleep* In such a spirit the primitive Church received in earnest the proverb of the preacher — "A good name is better than precious ointment, and the day of death tlian the day of one's birth." t With sweet economy of faith, she made practical the separate parts of the inspired adage, both at once, when she celebrated her holy mar- tyrs, and kept the days of their suffering as days of festivity. It is in the same spirit, my brethren, that we keep this day. It is one marked in your parochial history by the striking and significant death of one whose life was that of a confessor, and whose falling asleep was like that of sacrificing Abel, at the altar of our very Paschax. Lamb. So sudden and so afilictive was your bereave- ment, that you sorrowed indeed like men, and yet were comforted like Christians. The year has come round again, renewing our ten- der recollections of his holy walk with God, and of his translation to his more immediate presence ; and we mark the day as a parochial * Acts vii. 60. -t Eccles. vii. 1. 1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 51il feast. Is it that we may merely renew our tears, or prolong the pa- geantry of mourning ? God forbid ! He is at rest, delivered out of a world in which his pure spirit found very little that was congenial, and satisfied with the joys of paradise, the society of saints, and the vision of God. We keep the day of his deliverance with gratitude for his example, and with prayer that we may so follow it that we may soon rejoin him among the spirits of just men made perfect. We keep the day, that we may soberly review the providence of God, and, in a calmness impossible to our first grief, attempt the discovery of its mysterious import. We believe that being dead he yet speaketh ; and we keep the day, that we may the better mark and learn his testimony, and inwardly digest what it should impress upon our souls. To this end, may the Holy Spirit bless and sanctify the words which I shall endeavor to speak in depend- ence upon his most gracious and ready help, through our Lord Jesus Christ. I. The text supplies me with a fruitful subject for reflection at the very outset. Whether it were Abel's faith or Abel's sacri- fice which was most immediately in view when the apostle wrote, that " by it he being dead yet speaketh," the sense is, in fact, the same. Abel's altar, his gifts, his sacrifice were more ac- ceptable than Cain's, because they demonstrated his faith as rest- ing in the merits and death of the promised Lamb of God. By it the martyr had spoken of Jesus through all the ages of pa- triarchs and Aaronic priests ; and, consequently, his testimony was fresh and perpetual when figures and types were done away. The unity of the faith is the groundwork, therefore, of a geimine Christian testimony. He whose faith is that of Abel and that of St. Paul ; he alone to whom Jesus Christ is Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end of revelation ; he alone, being dead, can yet speak any thing to the purpose, or that is greatly important to be heard and known. Hence it is worthy of consideration, to begin with, that he whom we commemorate this day lived and died for the faith once delivered to the saints. He was not the author of any new doctrine or scheme of salvation, but the steward of that which Christ had committed to his trust. His life was a consistent testimony to scriptural and apostolic truth. He knew nothing among you but Christ and him crucified. He preached not himself, neither the wisdom of this world, but the same gospel which, even when St. Paul preached it, was the stumbling block of the Jew, and foolishness to the Greek. But while Cliristian was his name, Catholic was his surname. The terms should, indeed, be synonymous ; but in an age when many whom we w^ould not deny to be Christians are, nevertheless, sorely departed from first faith and first love, it would savor of 520 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. affectation, in speaking of a life so marked as Dr. Croswell's, to say nothing of that primitive and apostoHc character which distin- guished his rehgion from the current Christianity of our day. In a word, then, he was a Christian of no sect ; such a Christian as all Christians would have heen, had the stream of undefiled religion continued to run without admixture, from St. Paul, and St. James, and St. Peter, down to our own times. And as he was a Chris- tian of no man 's sect, so he was a theologian of no man 's school. Never a divine ran his course, from his diaconate to his decease, with a theology, according to the standards of our Church, more simply orthodox, uncolored, and unmingled. Such as he was in the diocese of Connecticut in his amiable novitiate, such he was here, when he bowed his manly head, and fell before tliis altar, in the raiment of his priesthood. And this I specially remark, because it was his lot, in the middle stage of life, to encounter the trying ex- periences incident to a great theological excitement, which, as it rose subsequent to the period when his own theological character was formed, so it became violent, and spent itself before he rested from his labors. And yet there were not wanting some who failed to consider, that, however its consequences may have aftected him in his relations to others, it found and left him the same ; always serene and unmoved, shining on, Uke a star, above the region of tempest. But any one familiar with his history must know that if some who moved in a curve, and who drew near only to diverge, seemed for a moment to walk with him, his path was always a straight line ; and that, if his course for a while appeared to mingle with discordant elements, it was only as sometimes a bright river passes through a turbid lake, and yet keeps itself transparent, and emerges and flows on pure as ever. His uniform consistency with self, and with the truth of his first love, was beautiful to behold. I look back and marvel at the composure with which, amid heats, and paroxysms, and outbreaks, amid perils on the right hand and on the left, and through trials which were fiery for a time, he kept his even way, and hoped and made the best of others, and simply walked with God. And as I have spoken of him as a steward, I must be indulged in another remark upon his character. A man who is the inventor of his own doctrines may do with them as he will ; but it is rrqinred in stewards that a man be found faithful.* A steward must keep that which is committed to his trust. But our age has a notion of liberality quite the reverse. Tenacious of personal things, men would be liberal with that which does not belong to them, and com- promise for every thing else by meeting on the common ground of a surrender of the precious truth of God. In this sense no Church- * 1 Cor. iv. 2. 1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. .521 man can be liberal. The testimony of .Iesus he must keep entire, and even earnestly contend for it. But this being reserved, he can be tolerant and charitable ; and of this we have an exani])le in our departed Croswell, to which I can think of no superior. How faithful he was as a steward, yet how liberal as a man ! In him there was fidelity, but no bigotry ; and no one could drive him into intolerance by any intolerance towards him. His lips could speak no bitter word, his neck could wear no party yoke. Towards brethren widely differing from him in theological opinion and ])oli- cy, he cherished kindly relations ; and if a man was but good and honest, however mistaken, he was sure of a friend in Croswell. His spirit, if I mistake not, was precisely that of the moderation which is characteristic of our Church in matters not fundamental ; and O that, with his departure into paradise, a double portion of his charity may have fallen upon his brethren ! It is what we most need among us ; it must not be buried with him. Let us cherish it as we do the memory of that radiant countenance, in which the dignity of manhood was so marvellously blended with the innocency of the child, and which reflected together the meekness and gentle- ness of the Lamb upon Mount Zion, with something of the majesty of the Lion of the tribe of .Tudah. I have spoken of the simplicity of the gospel as his entire testi- mony. He lived it, as he preached it, in the integrity of the New Testament, and according to its faithful witness the Prayer Book. Yet his mission was, confessedly, a peculiar one, as meeting the wants and emergencies of peculiar times. It was his to be a re- pairer of the breach, and a restorer of paths to dwell in. Much of his labor was, of necessity, given to things which ought not to be left undone, rather than to things he longed, above all, to do. But in this he followed the example, and lived over the experiences, of apostles. When St. Paul preached to Jews and Greeks the same unalterable gospel which was ever at his heart, did he also adopt, with these diverse people, one unalterable method of pre- senting it ? Did the same things need to be done in utterly differ- ent circumstances 1 Or when to the .Tews he became a .Tew, did he then glory the less in the offence of the cross ? How broadly sig- nificant is the lesson taught us by the fact that an apostle, the very last to be impeached of .Tndaizing, did nevertheless consider it part of his work to shave his head, and perform .Tewish rites in the temple, at the instance of St. .Tames, that he might gain the .Tews ! Here was, indeed, an act of concession, and one confessedly ex- treme ; but it was founded on a fixed principle, which is largely illustrated in the Acts of the Apostles, and from which we may in- fer that nothing can be more adverse to the spirit of the gospel than the idea — too prevalent in oar times — that the gospel is to be preached only in one way, and according to certain conventional 66 522 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. prescriptions of local society. The Church has need of the richest diversity of gifts in her sons, and of ways and means the most va- rious, for bringing them to bear upon her work. Without dispar- aging the task of any faithful minister of Christ, or condemning him who, taking things as he finds them, performs a round of duty closely graduated to what the people absolutely exact of their re- ligious teachers, I am sure that the exigencies of these times de- mand inventive efforts to gather in the wanderers and to save the lost ; and that to this end every blessed art known to our Commu- nion, and coincident with her institutions and services, should be put forth by zealous priests and laymen to catch men. We want again the missionary who shall lift up his voice in the wilderness like Elijah, and the street preacher who shall stand up like Jonah in the city. We want churches in which the rudest solemnities shall be dignified by zeal and unction in the worshippers ; and we want churches in which a like devotion may express itself, with all the accompaniments of Christianized art which are familiar to our Mother Church. The religion of Christ is meant for all men, for all ranks in society, for all circumstances, and for all times ; and in this it differs, radically, from the religion of sect, which is always adapted only to a peculiar sort, or class, or tribe of men, and yet denounces all whom it fails to inoculate with its narrow enthusi- asm. The Church alone can employ every thing that is not sinful to the glory of God and the edification of his intelligent creatures ; and by methods as various as the minds he has made, and as differ- ent as the manifold circumstances in which sinful consciences are languishing, she knows how to minister the same gospel, and bring souls to the foot of the same cross of Christ. And although she has been greatly impeded, by external hinderances, in the exercise of her abundant gifts, I think the history of the Anglican Commu- nion, since the era of her happy reformation, will be found richly illustrative of these remarks. From her pulpit at Paul's Cross to her missionary tents in India and Australia, in her universities and her cathedrals, in her schools and hospitals, and in the noble works of her theologians, and in the rich tributes of many of her laymen to her common treasures, what extraordinary resources have been subordinated and sanctified to tlie preaching of the gospel and the puriScation of society, by the sublime morality which it involves ! In spite of defects in the work, and of obstacles to its completion, the world may be searched in vain for the parallel of such a perpetual flood of blessings as for three hundred years has been pouring forth, in consequence of this large and fertile econo- my, from the bosom of our Mother Church upon her own imme- diate household, and through them upon the universal family of man. But in renewing the vitality of the Mother Church in this western world, while we have gained some privileges unknown to 1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 583 her, is it not to be feared that we have lost something of her rich- ness and completeness, and almost of necessity contracted some- thing that is meagre from surrounding influences of sect? I ask the question, not tiiat I would see the identical details and features of the Church of England reproduced in the widely different cir- cumstances to which we must adapt ourselves, but only to suggest that something corresponding, and of the same character, though national and becoming to our social state, is exceedingly desirable, and daily making itself felt as a want. In a word, instead of al- lowing ourselves to be stifled and cramped by the cold and heavy pressure of surrounding sects, it is the Church's duty to break forth on the right hand and the left, in her own free spirit, and to impress society with her innumerable forms of mercy to mankind. It would be unjust to the memory of departed saints, and quite as unfair to living worth, to insinuate that such a development of our ecclesiastical life is not already largely begun. The venerable prelate who has just dropped his patriarchal mantle and rested from his labors will ever deserve grateful mention as a pioneer in mis- sionary enterprises which have done much to draw out the zeal and energies of our Church ; and many others have labored successfully to elevate her theological learning, and to make her the fostering mother of Christian education in our country. Fresh notes of life and activity abound on every side, in spite of many scandals and discouragements ; and many are the apostolic bishops, and parochial priests, and faithful laymen, who, in noiseless self-devotion, are ex- tending the influence and power of the Church, and laying foun- dations for future and permament good. But with these heartfelt tributes to others, let me claim that it was the peculiar work of the departed founder of this parish to institute among us a high and primitive type of the pastoral ministry, and to demonstrate the entire consistency of our ritual and worship, with a perfection of parochial organization hitherto hardly attempted in our land, and too gener- ally despaired of as impossible. By it he being dead yet speaketh. I am far from believing tliat the peculiar characteristics of this Church of the Advent, although furnishing a high and noble pattern, can be universally or generally adopted at present in our connnunion. I believe that other parishes must be worked in other ways, and that wisdom will be justified of all her children in their several vocations ; but, as a pastor, I rejoice that the Church of the Advent exists to prove what may be done, and done successfully, among us ; and that the pure and holy example of its first rector is before me to inspire me with a spirit of pastoral devotion, and to furnish me with such a standard of pastoral fidelity as many a true-hearted minister of the preceding generation has known only from the records of the past, and credited, in large measure, to the aftec- 524 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. tionate imagination of biographers, or to the mellow light through which we are fond of looking back to primitive antiquity. II. But in recurring to my primary observation upon the charac- ter of Croswell as a witness for the truth, let me say that, in thus preaching Christ and him crucified in the pastoral office, he not only preached the faith of Abel, but adopted Abel's way of preach- ing in the essential point which wSt. Paul commends. For the sacri- fice of Abel was distinguished from that of Cain not only in the faith which inspired it, but in the obedience with which it was per- formed. The institution of bloody sacrifice, and its celebration by the worshipper in the solemn offering of a spotless lamb, was in that age the divine ordinance in which the visible Church showed forth her Lord's death until he should come. The faithful observance of this divine institution distinguished Abel's religion from that of Cain, who worshipped upon a theory, and with inventions quite his own. Now, our times are distinguished by nothing in religion so much as by the flagrancy with which it substitutes will-worship for the ordi- nances of God. Our age is full of a fundamental error with regard to Christianity ; but it is the old mistake of Cain. Religion is re- garded as an idea, as a sentiment, a philosophy ; but the gospel is an institution, an organized society, a kingdom — the kingdom of heaven. Organic Christianity, as a direct and historical product of the incar- nation, deriving life from Christ himself through the Holy Ghost, — a life diffused by veins and arteries through a body knit together by joints and bands, — such a Christianity, although nothing less was ever imagined until lately as answering to the name, is absolutely unconceived by a large majority of those who call themselves Chris- tians in our enlightened country. Yet this organic Christianity it is which alone has unity of faith with the apostles, or can insure the perpetuation of unalterable truth from age to age. Let the history of religion in this city illustrate my remark. In such a city, then, distinguished by many characteristics of preeminent merit, but iso- lated by its peculiar sectarianism from the sympathies of Christendom in a degree unparalleled by any other city which is called Christian upon the earth, it was Croswell's mission to give prominence to that pattern of the gospel to which the times are so indifterent. This altar, like Abel's altar, was set up in testimony to the fact that Jesus Christ was the founder of a family, and not the author of an idea, or the doctor of a system of morals. In the same spirit of faith it has been diligently served day by day, and year by year, in season and out of season, through good report and evil report, with many and with few, always with the promised presence of Christ, till at last the good servant was called by the Master, while his loins were girded and his light burning in his appointed lot ; and hy it he being dead yet speaketh. No matter how noiseless his task : 1852.1 THE COMMEMOliATION. 525 though the world took no note of hnn while he thus ministered, the altar has been fed with sacrifice, God in Christ has been wor- shipped, and he has been, like Antipas, a faithful witness in the midst of another Pergamos ; and Christ will use his ministry, and make it fruitful in his own way. His sudden but beatified death has already spoken to many in behalf of his work, to whom the protracted beauty and purity of his life miglit have appealed, year after year, in vain. The Church of the Advent, then, was instituted to survive men, as part and parcel of that kingdom which was founded upon a Rock. It was not set up by an admiring people for the display of a popular orator, nor for the gratification of personal ends and wishes; but, with only a secondary reference to human instruments, it was in- tended to supply spiritual necessities, and to develop special faculties of Christian benevolence, which needed to be called forth and wisely applied. There was an emergency, — work waiting to be done, — an opportunity not to be lost, — it would have been an injury to the Church if no one had come forward to meet it. In such circum- stances, Dr. Croswell returned to Boston. Without hostility to existing parishes, but leaving to each its peculiar work, this parish began to fulfil its mission. It was intended to perpetuate the daily pubhc service of God, and the supply of a house of prayer to all people. It was designed to unite all classes in the brotherhood of faith, and to demonstrate that our communion, so far from being the church of the rich, is the place where the poor and the rich may meet together, because the Lord is the Maker of them all.* It was designed to promote systematic charities, and to make them in reality gifts to the altar and oblations to the Lord. It aimed to en- franchise the sacraments, as preachers of Christ crucified,! and to legitimate the function of oral preaching as the means of inflaming Christian worship, and not the medium of its total eclipse. It aimed, incidentally, to consecrate sacred art and personal talent, by calling them oiF from worldly uses to adorn the sanctuary and to elevate the solemnities of worship. In entire conformity to the laws of the Church and the practice of our Anglican Mother, it proposed to enrich the service at suitable times with the heavenly accompani- ment of music, and with the introduction of anthems and choral responses. These indifferent things, as occasion might prescribe, but, at all events, the diligent observance of the festival system of the Church, and the vitalizing of all its ordinances and prescriptions ; in process of time, the founding of parochial charities ; and at all times a careful attention to the spiritual and physical wants of the needy ; the establishment of a parish school and of an asylum for orphans, and many like institutions of benevolence, were constantly * Prov. xxii. 2. t 1 Cor. xi. 26. 526 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852. kept in view. " Against such there is no law." Who dares say aught against them ? Love to God and good will to men were, in short, the entire spirit of this foundation, as they were preeminently the spirit of the founder, from whose fraternal lips, now cold and silent in the dust, I have gathered these details in many privileged communings. Such was his work, and by it he being dead yet speakcth. But I speak to those who know all these things even better than I do, by daily familiarity with his labors, and by a long and affec- tionate strengthening of his hands in God. Why do I dwell on such a review ? Because, my brethren, they yet depend upon your fidelity for their entire realization. Much has been done ; behold how much ! When I compare the scene before me with my first recollections of this parish, I am astonished by what God has done for you : and yet much remains to be accomplished and secured. The mysterious dispensation which called away your first pastor while his work was yet in progress has hallowed it, and taught you practical trust in God, while it has demonstrated that the under- taking does not depend on man. God has provided for your im- mediate wants in a manner so providential and signal as to afford you every consolation and encouragement. In the abilities and in the apostolic office of his successor, you have marked reason to believe that God is with you, and a very present help in time of trouble. At the same time, while the sanctity of your departed rector's memory is a rich endowment, it is a perpetual call upon you for perseverance and renewed effort. By it he being dead yet speaketh. From his grave he bids you be fruitful in every good work, and exhorts you, by devotion to this parochial enterprise in par- ticular, to " contend earnestly for the faith once delivered to the saints." III. To be a good shepherd is preeminently Christ-like ; and such a shepherd was Croswell. To this he devoted extraordinary gifts, and sacrificed many worldly advantages. The refinement and delicacy of his character are proverbial ; but not every one imagines how rich were his mental endowments, how brilliant his fancy, and how inventive his genius. His intellectual qualities were rare, and his literary attainments — poor things to speak of, though the world values them — were elevated in their range, and large in scope. His critical skill, though rarely exercised, was happy, and full of spirit ; and in epistolary composition I have never known his superior. As a sacred poet, his name is dear to the Church, and will always be affectionately cherished ; his verse was faultless, his conceptions extremely felicitous and epigrammatic, and all his productions were warm with devout and heavenly aspirations. In him there has lived, in Boston, a man of genius worthy to be re- 1852.] Tin-: ('i)MMEMORATION. 537 membered as a glory to her civic name, and one who, if he had studied to please her in her own way, might, indeed, have been her idol. But " his soul was like a star, and dwelt apart : " he could not stoop to vulgar artifices, he could not pander to popular appe- tite ; and those things which were gain to him he counted loss for Christ. To be a good pastor to Christ's flock, and a faithful steward of his household ; to be a servant of Christ's poor ; this was the aim to which he subordinated those things in himself which the world finds in so few, and worships so devotedly where they are displayed. Holy man of God, my dear departed friend and brother, there are those, nevertheless, who know how rich and precious were the gifts thou didst consecrate to Christ ! Happy in thy noble choice, and sublime in thy humility, how refreshing is the example of thy life ! and how harmonious, withal, the opportunity of thy death ! In the spot to thee most dear and sacred, and in the work most sweet, on the holy day and in the holy place, thii'3 hand toward the altar, and the word of blessing on thy tongue, — so the Master found thee, so called thee away ! Good soldier ! thy fight of faith was fought, thy palm of victory was won ; " henceforth there is laid up for thee a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, shall give thee at that day ! " Reverend father in God, my reverend brethren, and you parish- ioners of the Church of the Advent, while he has been in paradise, where they measure not joys by time, we have lived through another year of this dull earth ; and here we are, where the Master called him, drawn together by the consolations of Christ, in commemo- ration of his life and death ! Are we prepared to be called as suddenly ? Are our lamps, like his, trimmed and burning 1 In the epistle * read this day at the eucharist, he seemed to give us a mes- sage ; and even " by it he being dead yet speaketh." If there is aught else to be added by mortal tongue, amid associations so solemn that the very wood and stone around us seem to have a language, as relics of his life and labor, I will venture to say it is this — Be ye also ready, for at such time as ye think not the Son of man cometh. * Epistle for the twenty- second Sunday after Trinity, read by the Rev. Dr. Eaton. 528 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROS\yELL. [1852. A MONUMENT was erected at the grave of the deceased, in the New Haven cemetery, on the day of the commemoration. This monument is eight feet in height, inchiding the base, and is beautifully wrought in pure white Italian marble,* bearing on the front the following inscription : — REV. WILLIAM CROS^VELL, D. D., RECTOR OF THE CHURCH OF THE ADVENT, BOSTON DIED WOy. IX., HDCCCLI., iiOED SLTII. "FAITHFUL TJNTO DEATH." And on the reverse, — TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION. — in reference to the manner in which the expense of the erection was provided for — the amount having been offered by an associa- tion of ladies among his friends and parishioners, upon the altar of the Church of the Advent, on the anniversary of his death. * The plan of this monument was drawn, and the work executed, by Mr. Thomas Phillips, of New Haven. Almighty God, wrrn whom do live the spirits op THOSE "WHO DEPAE.T HENCE IN THE LoED, AND WITH WHOM THE SOULS OF THE FAITHFUL, AFTER THEY ARE DELIVERED FROM THE BURDEN OF THE FLESH, ARE IN JOY AND FELICITY, WE GIVE THEE HEARTY THANKS FOR THE GOOD EXAMPLES OP ALL THOSE THY SERVANTS, WHO, HAVING FINISHED THEIR COURSE IN FA^TH, DO NOW BEST FROM THELR LABORS. AnD WE BESEECH THEE, THAT WE, WITH ALL THOSE WHO AKE DEPARTED IN THE TRUE FAITH OP THY HOLY NAME, MAY HAVE OUR PERFECT CONSUMMATION AND BLISS, BOTH LN BODY AND SOUL, IN THY ETERNAL AND EVERLASTING GLORY, THROUGH JeSUS ChUIST OUB. LoRD. AmEN. [BtJKiAL Office.] 67 VO'