^:3u^'^t-^ I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. J $ . # i #|liHp- •: -- |op)insW |fo ^ ! UNITED STATES OP AMERICA, t THE LIFE OF THE REVEREND JOHN MoVICKAR, S. T. D., PKOFESSOK OF MOKAL AND INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, BELLE8- LETTUES, POLITICAL ECONOMY, AND THE EVIDENCES, IN COLUMBIA COLLEGE. ' BY HIS SON, WILLIAM A. McVICKAR, D. D. NEW YORK: PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON. Cambrnaae: 3^i'bcvsitie 33vess. 1872. f^^ri^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by William A. McVickar, D. D., in the Oifice of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington EIVEKSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BT H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. A SON'S MONUMENT LOVED AND HONORED FATHER. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. EARLY life: 1787-1809. Birth. — Parentage. — Delicacy of Constitution. — Schools and Private Tutor. — Political Surroundings. — Enters Co- lumbia College. — College Life. — Accompanies his Father to England. — Private Studies at Home. — A Candidate for Holy Orders. — Theological Studies under Rev. Dr. Hobart pp. 1-15 CHAPTER n. MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION : 1809-1811. Engagement to Miss Bard. — Dr. Samuel Bard. — The Wed- ding. — Life at Dr. Bard's. — Home at In wood. — Building of the Church. — Its Consecration. — Ordained Deacon 16-26 CHAPTER m. PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK: 1811-1817. Pastoral Work and Study. — Ordained Priest. — First Confir- mation at Hyde Park. — Illness and Change of Residence. — Slave-holding. — Anecdote of Dr. Bard, — " Family and Closet Devotions." — Declaration of Peace. — Wide Inter- ests in Pastoral Work. — Bible Society among the Blacks. — Visit to Governor Jay. — Reminiscences of Lady Hunting- ton respecting Addison, Pope, Bolingbroke. — Rev. Dr. VI CONTENTS. Peters First Bishop Elect of Vermont. — Ecclesiastical Trial of Eev. Timothy Clowes. — Rev. Mr. Jarvis . pp. 27-43 CHAPTEE IV. CHANGE FROM PASTORAL TO ACADEMIC DUTIES: 1817. Death of Dr. Bowden. — Candidate for the Vacant Professor- ship. — Letter from Clement C. Moore. — Letter from Rev. Sam. F. Jarvis. — Letter from Bishop Hobart. — Elected Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy. — Influence of Hyde Park Life. — Habit of Versifying. — Mrs. Bar- ton. — United Deaths of Dr. and Mrs. Bard . . 44-60 CHAPTER V. PROFESSORIAL DUTIES: 1817-1824. Removal to New York. — Old College Buildings. — Duties of his Chair. — Course of Political Economy. — Proposed The- ological Course. — Law School. — " Life of Dr. Bard." — Mr. William Bard. — Trip to Niagara . . . 61-73 CHAPTER VL HOME INSTRUCTION, POLITICAL ECONOMY, AND FINANCE : 1824-1827. Thoughts on Education. — Letters to Daughters at School. — Confirmation and First Communion. — Religious Practice and Religous Feelings. — Home Life. — " Outlines of Polit- ical Economy." — Nature of the Science. — Note from Thomas Jefferson. — Note from Chancellor Kent. — " Interest made Equity." — " Hints on Banking in a Letter to a Gentleman in Albany." — Financial Articles in the New York Re- view ......... 74-94 CHAPTER VIL CLERICAL AND COLLEGE DUTIES : 1828. Secretary of the Mission Society of the Diocese. — Clerical Work. — Illness of President Harris. — Increase of CoUeg-e CONTENTS. vii Duties. — Opening of Grammar Scliool. — Death of Presi- dent Hams, and Funeral Discourse . . . pp. 95-110 CHAPTER Vm. OVERWORK, AND FAILING HEALTH: 1829. Election of President Duer. — University Plans. — " Course of Public Lectures on Political Economy. — Visit to "Washing- ton. — President Jackson. — General Hayne. — Mr. Web- ster. — Leave of Absence for Six Months. — Voyage to Eu- rope 111-126 CHAPTER IX. LONDON society: 1830. Arrival at London. — Mr. Bates. — Mrs. Heber. — Edward Irving. — Visit to Coleridge. — Lady Affleck. — Sir Thomas Acland. — Sh James Mackintosh. — Mr. Wilberforce. — Lord Stowell. — Chantry. — Hon. \Vilmot Horton . 127-137 CHAPTER X. THE LAKE POETS : 1830. Death of George IV. — Robert Hall. — Miss Ponsonby. — Visit to Wordsworth. — IMrs. Hemans. — Visit to Southey 138-147 CHAPTER XL EDINBURGH SOCIETY: 1830. Melrose Abbey. — Mr. Lockhart. — Dr. Chalmers. — Jeffrey. — Dr. Andrew Thompson. — Professor Wilson. — Thomas Erskine. — Su' Robert Liston. — Mrs. Grant of Laggan 148-156 CHAPTER XII. SIR WALTER SCOTT — RETURN TO LONDON: 1830. Visit to Su- Walter Scott at Abbotsford. — Return to London. viii CONTENTS. — Mr. Hume's Election for Middlesex. — An English Elec- tion Scene. — Political Dinner. — Sir Francis Burdett. — Mr. Morrison and tlie Retail Trade of London. — Colonel Fitz-Clarence. — Duke of Wellington . . pp. 157-182 CHAPTER XIH; THE CONTINENT : 1830. University of Ghent. — Public Schools of Andernach. — The King of Prussia. — Professor Schlosser of Heidelberg. — Strasbourg after the Three Days. — Zurich and the Brothers Pestalozzi. — Top of the Righi. — Count de Salis. — Prince Metternich. — The Family of DeRham. — Visit to Htiber. — Lausanne. — Hospice of the St. Bernard, and Discovery of Coal. — Napoleon's Crossing. — Geneva. — Literary Club. — Syndic Gallatin. — Council of Deputies . . 183-212 CHAPTER XIV. c PARIS SOCIETY AFTER THE THREE DAYS : 1830. Arrival at Paris. — Fenimore Cooper. — Due de Broglie. — Hon. Mr. Rives. — Lafayette. — House of Deputies. — Trial of Prince Polignac. — Academy of Sciences. — Cuvier. — Humboldt. — Duchess de Broglie. — Chess. — M. Julien. — " Silk Buckingham." — Evening at the Palace. — Louis Philippe. — The Queen. — Madame Orleans. — Dnke of Orleans. — Return to London. — Campbell. — Lord Stowell. — Countess of Cork. — Incident of the Duke of Welling- ton. — Lord Lyndhurst. — University and Academy of France. — Ship Onto'/o — Verses to a Canary . 213-234 CHAPTER XV. RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES : 1831. Rettirn to Duty. — Improved Health. — Death of Eldest Daughter. — A^'acation Totir through Pennsylvania. — Ill- ness of Mrs. McVickar. — Financial Questions. — Church Societies 235-248 CONTENTS. ix CHAPTER XVL LETTERS : 1832. Tribute to the Memoiy of Sir Walter Scott. — Letter from Miss Sedgwick. -^ Letters from Mrs. Grant, of Laggan. — International Copyright. — Death of Mrs. Mc Vickar. — Purchase of a Country Place . . . pp. 249-260 CHAPTER XVn. FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS : 1833-1835. Nott stove sent to the Hospice on the Great St. Bernard. —7 City Missions. — "Be ye also ready." — "Early and Pro- fessional Years of Hobart." — Seminary Library Endow- ment. — IVIr. Talboys' Offering to the Seminary. — Dr. Hook of Leeds — Hugh James Rose. — Sir Robert Inglis. — Mrs. Hannah More. — Mr. Macready. — Constant Liter- ary Work 261-281 CHAPTER XVm. COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY — VARIED INTERESTS : 1835-1844. Bishop White. — Miss Martineau. — Vacation Life at Con- stableville. — Illness and Death of Eldest Son. — Death of Miss Bard. — " Alumni Address," and Evidences of Chris- tianity. — Coleridge and his Philosophy. — New Edition of the "Aids to Reflection." — Home Letter from Boston. — Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning. — Scholarships. — " The Club." — Louis Napoleon. — Mr. and Mrs. Dickens 282-307 CHAPTER XIX. CHAPLAINCY DUTIES : 1844-1862. Military Chaplaincy at Governor's Island. — Building of the Chapel. — Business Troubles. — War with Mexico. — Cali- fornia Regiment. — Mission to California. — Public Ministra- tions — Ministi'ations among the Sick. — The Rebellion. — Letter from General Anderson. — Resisrnation . 308-328 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XX. COLLEGE VIEWS : 1840-1850. Signature " M." — Bisliop Onderdonk. — Inauguration of President King. — Views on Education. — College Sugges- tions. — Influence over Students . '. . pp. 329-351 CHAPTER XXI. CATHEDRAL MISSIONS AND CHURCH BUILDING: 1850-1854. New York Ecclesiological Society. — Cathedral System, and Bisliop Smith. — Sermon preached at the Jubilee Celebra- tion of the S. P. G. — Deaths of Son-in-law, Daughter, and Second Son. — Purchase of Country Place at Irvington. — Missionary and Church Work. — Bviilding and Dedication of the Chapel School of St. Barnabas. — Establishment of Prizes in Columbia College and in the Seminary . 352-369 CHAPTER XXII. CHURCH INTERESTS : 1854-1864. Death of Bishop Wainwright. — Sermon before the Convention. — A Cathedral Home. — St. Stephen's College, Annandale. — Change of Duties in the College. — Memorial of the Two Daughters of Governor Jay. — The One Hundred and Fif- tieth Anniversary of Trinity School. — Home Letters. — " Provincial System " 370-392 CHAPTER XXIII. RETIREMENT AND DEATH: 1864-1868. Report on Coinage. — Final Retirement from College Duties. — Presentation of Portrait in College Library. — Home Let- ters. — Founding of Scholarshii^s. — Birthday Verses to a Granddaughter. — Failing Health. — Death. — Burial at Hyde Park 393-405 THE LIFE OF JOBJS[ MCYIOKAE, S. T. D. CHAPTER I. EARLY life: 1787-1809. JOHN McVICKAR was born in the city of New York, on the 10th of August, 1787. The year, as historic, was one which he was fond of recalhng. " The Constitution of the United States and I," he would say, " are of just the same age." His father, John McVickar, was one of the first merchants of New York. Of Scotch extraction, he came to America in early life, and entered into busi- ness with his brother Nathan. His mother was Anna, daughter of John Moore, of Newtown, Long Island, the descendant of one of the earliest English settlers in the colony, and him- self long regarded as a sort of patriarch in that staid old village. There was the heritage of ancestral Churchman- ship on both sides. As a merchant, his father stood among the highest 1 2 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. in a city then noted for its honorable men of trade. A nice sense of commercial honor, and a readiness to grant extensions and give assistance in commercial difficulty, were his characteristics. " Who has Mc- Vickar helped to-day ? " is reported to have been a common question on 'Change. As a man and a Christian in all the varied duties of home and society, he was equally exemplary. A vestryman of Trinity Church from 1801 to 1812, he still did not allow his duties there either to cramp his zeal or satisfy his obligations elsewhere. Four churches within what was then the one Diocese of New York, owe their origin, in whole or in part, and much of their prosperity, to the united zeal and liberality of Mr. and Mrs. McVickar, — Trinity Chapel, on the north side of Staten Island; St. Michael's, Blooming- dale ; St. James's, New York ; and St. Paul's, Con- stableville, Lewis County. But though such was the example of the father, and as one of the sons said in writing the news of his death, " My father lived for the happiness of his children," we must rather look to the mother, as is generally the case, for that per- sonal influence which has its moulding and modifying effect upon a child's character. Mrs. Anna McVickar, who died in the seventy- third year of her age, was one whom every one loved. " In the estimate of her character," to quote from the obituary notice at the time of her death, " it is not easy to say how much was due to natural temperament, how much to the early operation of religious principles. Neither is it necessary, for in EARLY LIFE. 3 her both unquestionably concurred to form a charac- ter so peculiarly blameless, that they who knew her best and longest can now recall to mind no one word or action, through the varied events of a long life, and the trying duties of aU its social relations, which did not seem marked by a sense both of Christian duty and of native kindness. Her religion was truly that of the heart; it entered into all the daily duties of life, and under its abiding influences was she formed to that unpretending truth of character, that single- mindedness of heart and intention, that unruffled sweetness of temper, that spirit of quiet yet active benevolence, and that constant reference of every question to religious principles by which her life and conversation were so peculiarly distinguished." To such a mother, his loved guide in youth, his honored companion or constant correspondent in maturer years, my father undoubtedly owed much. We have it in his own words, when, writing to his grandfather at Newtown, on occasion of a brother's death, he says, " My mother writes with calmness, almost with cheerfulness. She bears it, as she has ever done her afflictions, with the most perfect resig- nation to the will of God, referring it to that wis- dom and goodness which knows and chooses what is best. My mother has always been a model to me of that practical, abiding sense of religion, and I pray God that I may be able to imitate her in it." Such are his feelings in 1819, when comparatively a young man ; and on his mother's death, in 1833, the mature man of forty-seven years writ;es, for no other eye but 4 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAE. his own and the All-Seeing One, a series of prayers and meditations, one short extract from which I ven- ture here to produce : — " O God I thank Thee that from mj youth my mother taught me to love and fear Thee, to pi^ay to Thee in secret, to worship in Thy Holy Temple, and , to ohey Thee in all things — to read diligently Thy Holy Word, and to trust and rely in the merits and mediation alone of Thy Blessed Son." This reference to parents and parental example is not a mere tribute to a natural curiosity. It has its value. Looking upon each separate life as a worked- out problem, we naturally desire to be put in posses- sion of all the elements, however trivial, which helped to educe that final product of character in which the biographer seeks to interest his readers. It is this which should be the aim of biography, helping to sup- ply, to present workers, data for the formula of life. My father was the third-born of a large family, nine in number, seven boys and two girls. He was feeble in infancy, and had a delicacy of consti- tution which, up to middle life, was a trial to himself and a subject of anxiety to his friends. It was only after that period that he attained, through great regularity and activity of life, to that wiry vigor for which, in more advanced age, he was so noted. He was born at his father's city house, 231 Broadway, within sound, as he afterwards loved to recall, of the bell of that college (Columbia) to whose best interests his life was given. Of his early years and boyhood little or nothing can now be told ; letters and family EARLY LIFE. 6 traditions are alike wanting. We know, however, that his boyhood was passed in stirring days. A few words written in 1807 show, as was natural, how he was influenced by the spirit of the times and the political complexion of his family. " The son of a Federalist of the old school," he writes, " and having myself worn the Federal cockade, I looked with great reverence to Governor Jay, who, to my mind, stood both as its firmest pillar and its purest representa- tive." How these few lines recall our own experi- ences of yesterday; and admit us into the boy-life of the close of the last century. The war was ended, but the military spirit was still uppermost, and the youthful members of every household, with true instincts, thought themselves, as they really were, deeply interested in the vast and momentous polit- ical questions of the hour. Hence the cockade and the bands of little patriots, and the fireside hero by which each swore, a Jay, a Hamilton, a Washington. A sole anecdote of these, his early years, survives as having been employed afterwards in home educa- tion. " I was jusf entering my seventh year," my father used to say, " and was quite unable to pro- nounce the letter S, when one day a friend calling at the house took me by the hand and said, ' How old are you, John ? ' — ' Going into Aeven,' said I, at which there was a general laugh and I retired in confusion, mentally resolving that I would not rest till I could sound an 8 as well as any one, a result which perse- verance and I soon attained." Those who remem- ber his clear utterance and distinct articulation of 6 LIFE OF JOHN M^VJCKAR. after years, and his high appreciation of the virtue of perseverance, can readily see how this anecdote of the boy reveals the hidden man. Of schools and schooling I know nothing more than what a bare memorandum, discloses. It appears from this that he first went to a select school taught by a Mr. Ely, and established by a few gentlemen for the benefit of their sons. Then he went to the school of a Mr. Rudd, of which the remark is made " ordinary but best, eager to go farther." This was soon exchanged for the exclusive services of a private tutor, a learned Scotch clergyman of the name of Barlas. He was a man much devoted to the classics, and probably a good teacher, as he fitted his pupil, at the age of thirteen, to enter Columbia College, head of his class by merit, the youngest of a class numbering forty-five. This was at the beginning of the century. He en- tered in the year 1800. The examinations for en- trance in those days were markedly different from what they are at present. The students were then entered according to merit, and Latin composition was the chief test, written at the time, and handed in with a fictitious signature. Of this examination of the year 1800, which placed the young McVickar of thirteen at the head of a class numbering forty- five, I can give no record. The following, how- ever, from the successful candidate's own pen, de- scribing the similar triumph in 1819, of his young pupil and after friend. Griffin, whose early death was so widely mourned, will doubtless, mingling as it EARLY LIFE. 7 must have done with his own recollections, give us a true picture of the scene. "In the autumn of this year, when just fifteen years old, Edmund appeared among the candidates for admission into Columbia College. The examina- tion for entrance into this college was at that time long and rigid, continued for several successive days, and terminating in a public arrangement of names in the order of merit. Such a contest be- tween scholars brought together for the first time, and proud of the reputation of their respective schools, was to all a scene of interest ; and to sen- sitive young minds, when thus thrown into the arena, seemed to realize the fables of the classic games* of ancient Greece. Most of the teachers, and many anxious fathers, were in constant attendance to en- courage their sons or pupils by their presence, or perhaps to become judges of the impartiality of the decision." It may not be amiss to add here the comment which my father makes upon this practice, after the double experience of his own success in 1800 and the effects of failiu'e long witnessed, as a professor. •' While we call this victory honorable," he writes, " we cannot deny that it was painful, and dearly pur- chased by the mortified feelings and injured prospects of others ; so much so that it may well awaken the doubt whether such highly excited emulation in the education of youth be not productive of more evil than good. How often do we see the bold heart wearing out the feeble body in the contest ? and 8 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. when tliat contest is over, though some generous spirits maj rise above the disappointment, yet how often do we see it turning into gall and bitterness, and weighing down the heart with the double load of sorrow and envy. Nor is the moral injury of such emulation greater than the intellectual. When made the great engine of education, as in our coun- try it is, it weakens the mind by premature exertion, cultivates the memoiy at the expense of the judg- ment, and invariably tends to enfeeble the character by building it upon the sandy foundation of tem- porary excitement. Hence the anomalous fact we are so often called to lament and wonder at, that the praised and honored youth turns out the feeble and nerveless man. Like the boy taught to swim on bladders, in a quiet bath, he goes smoothly on, so long as he is buoyed up by praise ; but when called to act unnoticed and alone, to walk unmoved through good report and evil report, he feels as the same arti- ficial swimmer would do, without his aids, in the rough and stormy ocean." The presidency of the College in the year 1800 was vacant. Dr. Johnson, in his seventy-fourth year, had just resigned, and though Dr. Wharton of Phil- adelphia, and Bishop Moore of New York, were suc- cessively elected during the next four years, the en- tire care and instruction of the students fell upon the professors. Doctors Kemp, Wilson, and Bowden, all highly respectable and able men. Of my father's college course I know but little. That it was cred- itable there can be no doubt, as he continued to hold EARLY LIFE. 9 the position which he had gained at his entrance, and in 1804 graduated at the head of his class. A vol- ume of compositions is all that remains to attest the character of his college work and though neatly writ- ten and well expressed, their chief merit is perhaps their simplicity and briefness, confirming what was afterwards the successful student's own judgment on himself, that whatever success he attained was due to plodding industry and not to talent. By the closing words of the composition on " History," written in ] 800, we are forcibly reminded of what must have been the experiences and exciting subjects of talk to the college boys of these days, " And within our own memory we have seen a Washington conducting these States through various hardships, difficulties, and almost innumerable obstacles to a safe and hon- oi'able peace." Washington had died not a twelve- month before. And at the final examination of the class in 1804 an event was announced which must have aroused to the full their youtliful feelings, as it did the sorrow and indignation of a mourning people. Youns Alexander Hamilton, the eldest son of the General, was a member of this class. On the morn- ing of the 11th of July, 1804, he was not among his class-mates at examination, and on some inquiry be- ing made by the professor, young McVickar said that he had see^i him but an hour before galloping up Broadway at a most furious pace, and that he feared something must have been the matter. That day's duties were not over before it was known that Gen- eral Hamilton, to whose talents and patriotism all 10 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR, men looked with reverence, had fallen in a duel, by the hand of Aaron Burr, and that he was at that mo- ment lying fatally wounded, at the house of a friend at Bloomingdale. The sad but exciting; event was thus brought closely home to these young minds, and we are not surprised to find that the Latin salutatory at the approaching Commencement, which belonged to my father, as head of his class, should have had for its subject, " Eloquence and Hamilton." Thus in the Commencement Hall of Columbia College, draped in mourning for the sad event, did John McVickar, in his seventeenth year, pronounce the first public eulogium on General Hamilton. " The boast of our college and the glory of our country, just fallen on the field of mistaken honor ; a doubter in the days of a busy life, but a sincere and humble believer on his dying bed." Such are the words used on a later occasion, in recalling this circumstance, which had so deeply impressed his youthful mind. In 1805, Mr. John McVickar went abroad to visit his aged father, look after his business, and try to recruit his own failing health. He took with him his son John, the subject of this memoir, just fresh from college. Beyond the bare facts of a visit to Oxford, a day spent at " Peter House " to see a brother who was a student there, and an interview with Lord Stowell, then Sir William Scott, and a short tour in Scotland, I find no records of the journey or its incidents. We gather, however, a single touch for our por- EARLY LIFE. 11 trait at this time, in a mother's solicitude for her absent son. In a letter addressed to him while abroad she says, " Miss C is very well and often speaks of you, and I dare say regrets your absence, as you appeared to be a favorite beau. She is in my opinion so lovely a girl that I should be proud to have her for a daughter I hope, my dear John, that although you may mix with the thoughtless and the gay, your mind will never lose those serious im- pressions which I with pleasure observed before you left home ; and however a certain writer may remark, that travelling unsettles all principles, I hope you will prove an exception, for were you to acquire ever so much knowledge or worldly advantage, yet, if it tended to unsettle your mind with respect to religious and moral principles, I should lament it as the most serious evil which could befall you." These " serious impressions " must have been deepened rather than disturbed by foreign travel, for shortly after his return to New York he recommenced his studies, which, after a year's time devoted to general subjects, resulted in his oflPering his name to Bishop Moore as a candidate for Holy Orders. This was in 1807. For the next three years he pursued his theological reading. There being no theolog- ical course or seminary of any kind at that early day of our Church's history, the reading of candidates for Holy Orders was usually conducted under some clergyman approved by the Bishop. In this case, Dr. afterwards Bishop Hobai't was the one selected, and thus commenced an intimacy, which, with much 12 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. reverence on the one side, soon ripened into a mutual attachment, which only ended with the Bishop's Hfe. It found its appropriate monument in the extended memoir which afterwards appeared from his former pupil's pen. During these years of study my father wisely took advantage of a country-seat at Bloomingdale, belong- ing to the family, to obtain that quiet which the home in Broadway and a large household was not likely to afford. In summer the family were there, but in winter he was sole occupant of the large mansion on what was then the quiet banks of the Hudson, far removed from the great city, whose northern suburbs M^ere just beginning to straggle above Chambers Street. The property had belonged to Mr. Con- stable, whose son William married one of my father's sisters, and was deservedly considered one of the most beautiful of the once celebrated Bloomingdale Places. The house, shorn of its groves and acres, may still be seen at the foot of Eighty-sixth Street, forming a portion of the present buildings of the " House of Mercy." It was a congenial residence for the young student, who was fond of the country and horticultural pursuits, and to whom the care of the place was now intrusted by his father. Though giving most of his time, as we shall see, to his books, he still paid much attention to beautifying the grounds, planting out many English elms, imported direct from England, which he afterward transplanted to the green of Columbia College when he became its Pro- fessor. The planting of trees was ever to him a EARLY LIFE. 13 delight, and he seldom failed to leave his mark in this way on the landscape, wherever he found even a temporary home. His readino; and the division of his time during; this period of study was remarkably systematic. I have before me a little book of " memoranda," dated Jan- uary 7, 1807, which begins with an exact -division of time and subjects or books for every day in the week. Then follows a diary, not of thoughts, but of accomplished work. His chief studies during this year appear to have been Hebrew, Italian, and French, with such reading as Paley, Sir William Jones, Rob- ertson's " Charles V.," and Shakespeare. On Febru- ary 2d, he writes, " Determine henceforward to learn ten lines of poetry before breakfast every morning, to begin with Horace's " Ars Poetica." A few days after, " Formed a scheme of artificial memory by letters and applied it to Bossuet's ' Chronology.' " The latter part of the year a fuller diary is com- menced, with notes upon his reading. The first page is entitled, " The Economy of my Time," and beside the schedule for each day, shows this proportion per week : Latin, six hours ; Greek, six ; Hebrew, twelve ; Divinity, eighteen ; French, three ; Italian, three. It may not be without interest to give two brief spec- imens of these notes of the young student of twenty, now left so much to his own guidance, as exemplify- ing that practical straightforward habit of mind which displays itself throughout, and which became a life characteristic. ''^ Monday/, December 1th. — Virgil's '^Eneid:' 14 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. read four hundred lines, which finishes lib. XII. The battle between the two heroes is not the masterpiece I expected from the pen of Virgil. The one is a braggadocio, the other a coward ; the gods arrange the matter among themselves, and the reader is left to wade through the description, without interest as to the combatants or anxiety as to the event." " Saturday^ l^th December. — Greek Testament : read sixth and seventh chapters of Matthew. Began to study Greek on a new plan, ^. e. not to plague myself with the critical acquaintance of every word, but having a sufficient idea of the grammar to judge of the parts of the verbs, &c., to devote myself to the acquisition of words, and thus facilitate the read- ing of the language. 'Tis wonderful the small stock of words that is gained by a boy in this or the Latin language after three or four years' hard application in the common way ; and of course how difficult he finds it to read at first sight a common sentence. Youth is the proper time for the acquisition of words, when the memory is both quick and retentive, and when as yet they are content to heap up arbitrary sounds without adding to their stock of ideas." During 1808 the same diary is kept up, but now in French, and some little French book is always kept in the pocket for chance moments of reading. For a small portion of the year the diary is kept in Latin, and a volume of " Discerpta " shows a very fair range of theological readmg. Thus was passed a youth marked by the self-dis- cipline of the determined student, added to the gen- EARLY LIFE. 15 eral self-restraint of a Christian young man. How far it was a preparation for happiness or the re- verse is a question to which the succeeding pages of this thread of an individual life should supply an answer. CHAPTER II. MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION: 1809-1811. I HE jear 1809 brings us to the event which more or less shapes and colors the future of most lives. Early in this year my father became engaged to Eliza, youngest daughter of Dr. Bard, of Hyde Park. The family with which he thus connected himself was one of distinctive if not remarkable character- istics. Like many of the older families of New York, such as the Jays, Bowdoins, Pintards, and Boudinots, the Bards were descended, and in their case on both sides, from French refugees, who, preferring their faith to their country, became exiles to America at the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. Dr. Samuel Bard, grandson to the refugee, was educated in the medical schools of Scotland, then justly celebrated, and became one of the first physicians in New York city. Not troubling himself much about politics, and finding plenty to occupy him in his profession, he still was a Tory in feelings and had more than once to leave the city during the Revolutionary War. His character and reputation, however, and the prefer- ence given to him by General Washington, soon re- established him in full practice, and in 1778 and at MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 17 the age of fifty-six, having made a competency, and taken Dr. Hosack as his partner, he retired to Hyde Park, a most beautiful spot, about eighty miles up the Hudson River. This property was part of a patent right which his maternal grandfather obtained when private secretary to Lord Cornbury, governor of the province of New York, and favorite cousin of Queen Anne. This was the origin of the name, the tract being called "" Hyde Park," as a sort of complimen.t to his patron. To this romantic and beautiful spot Dr. Bard had retired about eleven years before the event which was now to add a new member to his family, and join a ncAv and influential current to the life stream whose course we are pursuing. He was a sort of a patriarch in his neighborhood. His only son, William Bard, was married and resided near ; his elder daugh- ter, married to Judge Johnston, Avas also with a large family settled close by ; while his own household con- sisted of his wife, his aunt, Mrs. Barton, his sister Miss Sally Bard, and his only unmarried child, Eliza, now engaged to be married to the subject of this memoir. If this detail seems over minute, it must be pardoned as necessary to enable the reader to enter into the happiest if not the most influential portion of my father's life. One letter from father to daughter, shortly before the engagement, is here inserted to help to picture the home into which my father was about to enter : — Hyde Park, Decembei-27, 1804. My dear Child, — Your mother tells me I must 2 18 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. fill this page ; but where shall I find matter ? Our uniform life affords neither variety nor anecdote. Had I indeed the talent to dress 'the same sentiments in all the beautiful variety of Madame De Sevigne, I might say again and again how much we love you, and that we are proud of you ; and that even at a distance you gild the evening of our lives with the sunshine and joy of youth. But you know all this already, and repetition cannot make it more true ; I will, therefore, only charge you to return us that por- tion of our treasure which is in your keeping — your own health and happiness, bright and unalloyed. I have received great pleasure in the beautiful specimens you have sent me of your skill and indus- try in drawing ; and from yoiir future improA^ement, I promise myself a source of delight all the rest of my life. I have placed them up against the wall opposite my seat, that I may have the pleasure of constantly viewing them and anticipating the pleas- ure we shall enjoy when we come to apply your talent to a thousand useful and ornamental subjects. Your fondness for gardening and painting have ever been strong passions of mine, and we will now cul- tivate them together ; which will add the greatest zest to my enjoyment, and lay up for you a never failing source of the most innocent delight. Every- thing connected with gardening, drawing, and the study of nature is virtuous, feminine, and elegant ; every sentiment and feeling they excite is peculiarly becoming in a female mind : they soften and harmon- ize the affections, smooth all the asperities of char- MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 19 acter, and even allay the bitterness of disappointment and sorrow. Let nothing, therefore, my good girl, slacken your industry in this pursuit ; and be careful not to divide your attention between too many ob- jects, as mediocrity in any accomplishment will sat- isfy neither me nor you. But I had almost forgot to bestow upon you your just praise for the readiness with which you have complied with my desire to avoid large parties ; they consume a great deal of time, with little pleasure, and no improvement. It is my boast to have chil- dren who know how to submit to what is right with- out repining. God bless you, my dear child, S. B. Our subject is well carried on by a letter from Miss Sally Bard, Dr. Bard's sister, to a friend in England. The minute and interested detail is accounted for by the fact that the two families had been separated by the war, one, the Kempes, going to England, the other, the Bards, remaining in this country, while the same affection and interest in each other's affairs was kept up by letter for sixty years. These letters are now in the writer's possession, and he does not hesitate to give in full the following one as affording just such home touches of portraiture as the biogra- pher generally finds it impossible to obtain, or, if he does, is too apt to think beneath the dignity of his sub- ject. The marriage took place November 12, 1809. 20 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Hyde Park, December 18, 1809. I ought long since, my beloved friend, to have answered your last most welcome letter : shall I say ' I waited to tell you my beloved Eliza has changed her name to McVickar, and though the honeymoon was over last Sunday, yet I have scarcely found time to return to my normal habits of thought and occupa- tion. Contrary to Eliza's wishes, we had a large and consequently a gay wedding. He had a large family and many friends to be invited, and, besides, our own home circle, our vicinity to Governor Lewis, Chan- cellor Livingston, and Mr. Cruger's family, with many in New York who had been too kindly affec- tioned to her to be left out (unless we had quite a private wedding), swelled our number not only to filling our own house, but Mr. Pendleton's, William Bard's, and Mr. Johnston's. She was married on Sunday evening, the 12th of November, — a most solemn moment to those who have had her so long exclusively to themselves, and who it has been the study of her life to make happy. But then, what cause of gratitude have we in the prospect of her's and our happiness — character, talents, temper, family, and fortune agreed to our fondest, our warm- est expectations. My brother says he never knew- a young man — not much above two-and-twenty, only two months older than Eliza — so excellent a scholar in the languages, and so well read and perfect a master of every subject of science and polite litera- ture ; and I can say few that I have seen equal him in a retentive memory to bring forward agreeable MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 21 things in conversation ; and he has a pecuhar gayety, ahnost sportiveness of temper, that diffuses cheerful- ness all around him; and oh, with what pleasure can I add that the turn of his mind is all for dome'stic joys. He was in England two years ago with his father. Oh, could we have looked forward to this day, how I should liked you to have seen the lad, and more be- cause he is pleasing to look upon ; for though a hand- some face and person is of no great consequence, yet, added to better things, I always thought it very agreeable both in man and woman. I am almost ashamed of reaching nearly to the bottom of the second page on the subject of our young people, but this is their day of consequence, and in future I will be more laconic. There wei'e ten days of dancing and festivity, when, by degrees, Ave sobered down to our usual habits of spending our time. Mr. McVick- ar's mornings are always occupied in study till twelve or one, when, if the weather is good, they walk, ride to the farm, and sometimes snow-ball each other ; if not, they amuse themselves within doors with chess, battledore, or some other recreation. You know how it is in our family ; every one lives in their separate apartments till dinner. The afternoons are short, but he gives them to us, reading aloud works of taste and improvement. Tea brings us all togetlier till bed-time. The early part of the evening brother either reads while we work or plays chess with John McVickar. At eight the Avhist party is formed, and we have our little table at the other side of the fire, where we pass two hours very pleasantly, varied ac- 22 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. cording to our humor; reading, chatting, drawing characters, writing verses, making conundrums, or anything that comes uppermost, — I making myself younger,' perhaps, than I ought to do, to give the young people pleasure. He does not expect to take Orders till next spring twelve-month Most affectionately, S. Bard. How truly religion went hand in hand with cheer- fulness and even gayety, in this household of the olden time, is shown by the following prayer used by Dr. Bard at the ordinary evening devotions on the day on which the marriage took place. It was his custom to add something of the kind at family prayer, on all marked occasions, either of joy or sorrow. " O, most gracious God, bless with Thy favor and protection our children, who have in Thy presence become united in marriage. May they place their hopes of happiness first in love to Thee, faith in Thy promises, obedience to Thy commands, and submis- sion to Thy will ; and next to these, in a sincere, tender, and generous friendship for each other. May these affections brighten all their prospects and joys in life ; and may they always fly to these for comfort under the misfortunes or afflictions with which Thou shalt see fit to prove them. May we, their parents, enjoy, while we live, the unspeakable blessing of wit- nessing their virtues and happiness : and, when death approaches, may the blessed hope of meeting again in Thy presence forever, cheer our last hour, and soften the pain of parting." MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 23 With the exception of occasional visits to his own family in New York, this happy and congenial Hyde Park household was my father's home for the first year of his married life. His expectant profession stimulated and gave shape to Dr. Bard's long cher- ished idea of a church on his own property, and it was not lono- before the site was determined on and given, the plan settled, and the work commenced. My father had already purchased, some two miles above Hyde Park, a wooded slope on the river bank, and was there building for himself. He was natur- ally fond of planning and building,, and was not with- out some skill in architecture, which had already brought him credit through plans for Gi'ace Church, New York, which when quite young he had elabor- ately prepared and handed in anonymously for com- petition. We may, therefore, picture him this year as both a busy and a happy man. The same year, 1811, saw both home and church completed ; the home first, which received the name of " In wood," and to which my father and family, consisting of wife, infant daughter, and Miss Sally Bard, who thenceforth was to be a cherished mem- ber of his household, removed early in June. In after years, writing for a great niece. Miss Bard thus describes the new home : — " In June, 1811, we removed to Inwood, a place chosen in the romantic days of your father and mother, built in the same taste, more for beauty than convenience ; the road to the house, from choice, difficult of access, among dark and winding paths, 24 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. over rocks and stones, and much further round than was necessary." This judgment was probably correct, for two years saw a change to a comfortable cottage about equi- distant between the church and the Hyde Park man- sion, and not five minutes' walk from either. The church, erected mainly through the liberality of Dr. Bard and Mr. McVickar's father — a coun- terpart of which can now be seen in old St. Luke's, New . York — was ready for consecration in the month of October. The young candidate was to be ordained deacon at the same time. Bishop Hobart, who had just passed through the stormy times of his own election and consecration to the episcopate, officiated, and we can easily imagine, if imagination were not rendered unnecessary by the following graphic picture from the pen which has already aided us, how full of happiness must have been the occa- sion : — " My brother has lived," says Miss Bard, writing to her English friends, " to see completed, and more than answer his expectations, the pious work he so arduously undertook and prosecuted, and after the vigor of life passed in a constant course of useful- ness and active benevolence, closes his career with the delightful consciousness of having his last his best work, and already seeing and enjoying the blest effects of it. With little more than the assistance of his own family he has built a church, a lovely one that strikes every eye with its taste and beauty. It is near the mansion-house, half a mile from the vil- MARRIAGE AND ORDINATION. 25 lage, and near a grove of locust-trees. On the 12tli of October it was consecrated, and on the following day our beloved friend was ordained to the ministry. Never was there a more affecting and solemn scene ; the hubbub of a city consecration can give no idea of it. But the ordination was still more interesting. The Bishop and two clergymen attended, his father, mother, and others of his family, and every one of ours, formed a group that seemed to touch every heart in the church, and the Bishop, on his return, said he had never witnessed so deeply affecting a scene. He preached the sermon, and took occasion to speak with high but modest praise of his knowledge from infancy of John McVickar's character, and touched very handsomely on brother's being the founder, father, and patron of the church. On Sunday, Mr. Mc- Vickar preached his first sermon. It would be nat- ural for me to be partial in its praise, but indifferent persons spoke highly of it, and Governor Lewis in particular, who, observing the pallid looks of his fathei", laboring under a lingering and painful disease, said to Mr. Pendleton, ' But who would not take his complaints to be the father of such a son ? ' " To this picture of Mr. McVickar's early married life, thus drawn for me by other hands, it is not for the writer to add a word. I may, however, be allowed to close it with a few lines bearing a date some years later, and found among my father's papers : — TO ELIZA, 12TH NOVEMBER, 1817. Dear was the mistress, when with downcast eye. And glowing cheek, she breathed a kind reply; 26 LIFE OF JOHN 3I(^VICKAE. Deaeer the bride, when first by right divine I kissed her virgin lips, and called her mine; Deaebst the vfife, when to her bosom prest She soothes each anxious care, and lulls my soul to rest. CHAPTER III. PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK : 1811-1818. rpiHE religious destitution of the banks of the Hud- -*- son then, even as with the West now, compelled the relaxation of the good ecclesiastical rule that the deacon should always be the assistant of the priest. Thus my father, immediately on his ordination, though still a deacon, was elected rector of St. James' Church, Hyde Park, and became responsible at once for full pastoral duty. " This country," writes Miss Bard, " had no Epis- copal Church nearer to the southward than Pough- keepsie, nor to the northward within twenty miles, so that our common people either attended ignorant Methodist meetings or spent their Sundays in idle- ness. Since Mr. McVickar's entrance into the min- istry, now about six months, he has conscientiously devoted himself to the improvement of his own mind and the good of others, visiting the sick, attending the poor, and instructing the ignorant, in which his wife joins him most sincerely, never having enjoyed admiration and gayety as much as she now does join- ing him in acts of charity and piety." This devotion of the young rector to the improve- ment of his own mind, might have become a snare 28 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. to him had it not been joined with a strong prac- tical conscientiousness, for he was still a student and a real lover of study. Tliis jear he began read- ing Blackstone, "resolved," as a line in his note- book says, " to obtain a general knowledge of the principles of law." But some months after, in the same note-book, comes the following : " Finished the first two volumes, but resolved to give up this study, at least for the present, from finding the duties of my profession more than enough to engage my whole time." In 1812 he was ordained priest in Trinity Church, New York, by Bishop Hobart, immediately after the opening services of the Diocesan Convention. In the episcopal address before the Convention of 1814, we have the following satisfactory evidence of parochial industry, the Bishop having just visited his parish to administer, for the first time, the rite of Con- firmation : — " The congregation of St. James, Hyde Park, which originally consisted of a few select families, has been greatly increased in number by the assiduous labors of its rector, who has been particularly atten- tive to catechetical instruction, not merely in the church, but in his parochial visits to the families and schools of his parish." Through his after niemoir of Bishop Hobart, we are enabled to give, in the rector's own words, the re- membrance of this first Confirmation in his church : — " The author, indeed, can call to mind few scenes of deeper pathos than the one he saw exhibited on PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 29 that occasion. The youthful circle, unbonneted and bareheaded, with here and there one in middle and advanced life among their number, deeming it be- coming, thus ' to fulfill all righteousness ; ' the youth, with streaming eyes, trembling and agitated, some to the very verge of sinking beneath their feelings ; the interested and eager circle behind of parents, and friends, and congregation, hanging, as it were, upon the words of their spiritual father, — all tended to form a picture lovely to the eye of the philanthropist, and overpowering to that of tlie Christian." During the year 1813 a long nervous fever pros- trated my father's strength and led finally to his chano-e of residence from " Inwood " to " The Cot- tage," directly opposite the church. Dr. Roosevelt Johnson, one who knew and loved him well, his suc- cessor in the parish, writes : "There, on a site which challenges comparison with any single view on the banks of our beautiful Hudson, he resided five years, distinguished, even so early, for his maturity of mind, his activities, his attentiveness, and his able, eloquent, and touching discourses. Busy among his parishion- ers, fondly regarded by them then, he was also cher- ished by them long years after. Though he had the disadvantage of a voice not powerful, and somewhat peculiar, yet it was clear as a bell and musical ; and his delivery was impressive, commanding the atten- tion and moving the affections." I judge that this estimate of him as a preacher must have been correct, from a remark made to me not long since by Mr. Samuel B. Ruggels : "I was 30 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. a school-boy at Pouglikeepsle, when your father was rector at Hyde Park, and many a time have I slipped away and gone up there seven miles to hear him, be- cause I was fond even then of a good sermon and good preaching." The " Cottage " here spoken of was commenced by Dr. Bard, while my father Avas absent on account of ill health. He did not believe in his clergyman be- ing so far away from his church, or his children and grandchildren so far away from him. Hence this lovely spot was arranged, as a home, midway be- tween his own house and the church. It was the res- idence of the family for the rest of their stay at Hyde Park, and soon became a marked centre of quiet church influence and genial home life. The following note in Miss Bard's diary reminds us that this was in days long since gone by, at least for the State of New York: "Had a letter from Mr. McV. mentioning the purchase of a black man and his wife for the term of seven years." This gives point to the remark which I often heard my father make, that slavery, beside its inherent evils, had a most injurious effect upon the character of the mas- ter, adding always, " I know it from experience." The law in New York at that time set the slaves free after a certain age. This gave rise to circumstances often annoying doubtless, but sometimes, as in the following case, ludicrous. A self-constituted com- mittee, one of them a Quaker, determined to call upon Dr. Bard, then resident in the city, to inquire the age of his colored boy, imagining that he was im- PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 33 lawfully detained in servitude. They were courte- ously received, until the object of their visit was declared, when the Doctor drew himself up with dig- nity and rang the bell. Pompey, the boy in ques- tion, answered the call. " Pompey," said he, " go and get your hat " — the Quaker as was usual with his sect was wearing his. This having been done, he added, " Pompey, put your hat on and take my seat." " Gentlemen," he said, turning to the com- mittee, " I leave you to discuss the questions which you and Pompey may have in common," and bowed himself out. One of the committee afterwards re- marked that he got a lesson then which kept him out of all such scrapes in the future. The salary as rector of this little country parish during these years, from 1815 to 1818, was but $250. A small amount, I do not know how much, had been received annually from Trinity Corpora- tion, New York, but even that in 1815 was stopped. The cii'cular announcing the fact, signed by Richard Harrison as " Comptroller," and sent, we presume, to other parishes, reads curiously under the light of 1871. " The enhanced prices of the necessaries and comforts of life, and the depreciation of money," demand increase of salary for their own clergy and officers. " The requisite endowments for Grace Church and St. George's Church, lately separated from them, and the great calamity experienced in the destruction of St. George's Church by fire," *' enhance necessary expenses and involve their affairs in perplexity and embarrassment." 32 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. " The permanent annual revenue of the Corpora- tion of Trinity Church, including pew rents, does not exceed twelve thousand dollars, upon the most liberal estimate ; whilst their certain and necessary annual expenses amount to at least double that sum, beside the expenses of repairing and cleaning three churches, and fire-wood, and other contingent charges The Corporation are persuaded that this plain ex- position of facts must be sufficient to justify them in the eyes of their brethren. They hope, that by the cooperation of the several congregations which com- pose their body, and by the adoption of some pru- dent plans for the management of their property, the situation of the Church may, in a short time, be materially improved. They are also persuaded that no assurance can be necessary to convince their brethren in the country that, as they have heretofore done, they will again pay proper attention to them as soon as the situation of their affairs will permit them to do so." It is about this time that I find the fragmentary beginnings of that volume which was first published long after in 1835, under the title of " Devotions for the Family and the Closet, from the Manual of a Country Clergyman." It was in truth the outgrowth and the fruit of these few years of early pastoral work. Prepared for his own family and private use, enriched, according to his father-in-law's example, on every special occasion of joy and sorrow with the outpour- ings of both a thankful and a submissive spirit, it is undoubtedly the true record of my father's spiritual PERIOD OF PASTORAL WORK. 33 experiences during these years. True in its meas- ure of the whole work, this is especially so of the latter portion, " Devotions fol* the Closet," which the preface says " are from a more private diary, and are added not without many misgivings." This " diary," if ever existing in a formal shape, was probably long since destroyed, and this book of devotions alone re- mains to testify to that hidden life, only the outward evidences of which belong to the biographer. " These words of Christian prayer," says the preface, " lay claim to no merit beyond simplicity and sincerity ; but it may be that to some hearts they may come more home, on that very account. In this hope they are made public ; their author casts them in as his secret mite, into the treasury of the Church of God ; if they add but one living stone to the temple, he is more than repaid." The volume was published anonymously, and has been used by many, even clergymen, without any knowledge as to who was the writer. Several edi- tions have been exhausted and yet it is still in de- mand. Letters might here be inserted from many, who expressed most warmly their obligations, but it is unnecessary. Whatever the author may have looked for in his other literary works, in this he sought not, or rather he shrank from praise. It was too truly the child of those joys and sorrows in which the stranger intermeddleth not, to admit of any desire to receive for it the meeds of author- ship. We therefore close this somewhat anticipated subject, though in reality one which throws its light 3 34 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. back upon tliese years of pastoral work, with two letters, one from the author himself accompanying his gift to Miss Sally Bard of a copy of the printed volume, and the other from a brother clergyman on first discovering its authorship. Mt dear Aunt, — This little work, which I may well term our common property, will be, I trust and doubt not, a new bond of affection between us. The beautiful prayers you gaA^e me for it make it yours as well as mine, but that which above all makes it common to us, is that it has reference to those who were equally near and dear to us, and from whom, though sepa- rated for a season, we shall not be long. Even now I feel them nearer to me as I read what I then wrote, and it is my greatest happiness that, day by day, this sense of their nearness increases. It is not space or time that separates us, but the world and worldly af- fections, and as these under God's blessing lose their hold upon my heart, I feel that, even before death, I may almost embrace them there — through the atonement of my blessed Saviour I doubt not. In pvitting forth this work, I have done it, partly as a debt to my profession, from which my more worldly occupations separate me, but mainly in the hope that it will react upon myself, and make me what I would teach others to be. Accept it, then, as a pledge alike of my future reso- lutions and my present affection, from Your aflPectionate nephew, J. McV. . Monday, 24r the individual, the thronged deck of the steam- boat, that bore the professor and his family to the ship, must have ministered this healing." CHAPTER IX. LONDON society: 1830. A EUROPEAN tour, in the year 1 830, was, to an American, a great event. And if the presence of an American in foreign circles was not the same, it was, what is by no means the case at present, a rare occurrence, allowing of exceptional privileges. A manuscript of journal letters addressed to Miss Bard, affords material for this tour of six months. In days of fewer books and fewer travellers this might properly have made an independent publication. But as it is, my readers will probably be as well pleased to allow me to read it for them, briefly outline the tour, and weave into it, in the words of the journal, whatever may be deemed of special interest. The voyage was a short and prosperous one of twenty-four days, differing from the steamer voyages of the present time, not only in its greater length, but in its united social intercourse. An editor was found among the passengers for a semi-weekly gazette, and wit and humor made friends and shortened tedious days. After arrival, London was, for the time, made the head-quarters of the party, and a suite of rooms taken in Regent Street. Here, calls from Mr. DeRham of New York, and Washington Irving, at once made the strange city seem somewhat homelike. Sunday Night. — I hardly know whether to call this Sunday, it has been so little like one. I never felt so great a longing for the solemn, quiet services of our Church as I do after being excited by the elo- quent vehemence of Dr. Chalmers, and disgusted by the rant and grotesque acting of the once celebrated Edward Irving. To listen to the first was a real 128 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. treat ; to the last, I can only say I felt, on quitting his chapel, as if I required a lustration to purify and cleanse me from such folly and insanity On returning from Richmond to-day, Tuesday, we strolled through the Park, the seat of Lord Sid- mouth ; the Marquis of Wellesley has also a small seat here; though I gazed at neither with the same in- terest I did at a small but neat old almshouse, over the stone gate of which was cut these words : " I will pay unto the Lord the vows I made in my trouble." We drank tea at home, having ordered the car- riage at half past nine for Mrs. Bates' musical party, and as this is our first London soiree, I must give you some idea of it. Mr. Bates is an American by birth, but now the leading partner in the great house of Baring, Bi'others & Co. He is also the enter- taining partner, and has an allowance on that score of twelve thousand dollars a year. They occupy a noble house on Portland Place. On entering, our names were announced from the foot of the stairs to the landing, and again to the drawing-room door, both folds of which were thrown open as we entered. The etiquette is an awkward one, the ladies walk in alone, the gentlemen following. The party was small, with some rare musical talent, and a moderation in the refreshments which, in New York, would be termed mean, but which here is universal in good society, and is, I think, in better taste than our over- loaded and extravagant profusion. Among the rest, I was introduced to Leslie and West the painters, and LONDON SOCIETY. 129 to O'Meara, Napoleon's medical biographer. In the case of the latter I fell into an awkward mistake, confounding him with Dr. Stockoe, who also attended Bonaparte, and who had visited us at the College. Fortunately I stopped short when I found myself going wrong in reminding him of his visit, and changed the topic, instead of blundering on with ex- planations as one often does, making bad worse. Friday., June 4. — Joined by Mr. Richmond at four, we drove to the palace of St. James to inquire after the health of his Majesty. We alighted in the midst of guards and gentlemen in waiting, were ushered through passages and salo7is up-stairs into the receiving rooms, where Lord Fife, the lord of the bedchamber, in waiting, stepped forward and presented to us for our inspection, the written bulle- tin of the morning, signed by the attending physi- cians. After our royal visit we drove to Mrs. Heber's, to whom we were engaged for this evening. Her resi- dence is in Clarence Terrace, one of the most beauti- ful ranges of buildings in Regent's Park. Admitted by a servant in livery, we were announced and ushered into a moderate sized but beautiful library, where Mrs. Heber sat at a table covered with books, and writing. From what 1 had heard of her personal appearance I expected little, — so little that I was agreeably disappointed. Though large, she is graceful, with a very sweet voice, and pleasing, courteous, and even kind manners. She has engaged us to a breakfast on Tuesday next. On inquiring for her daughters a ISO LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. she sent for them. They were both sweet children; Harriet the very image, judging from his portrait, of her sainted father. We parted greatly, and, we would fain hope, mutually pleased. Carriage at the door again, after dinner, to take mQ to visit Coleridge at Highgate. Mr. Ker was my conductor. We stopped, on our way, for Rev. Ed- ward Irving, much to my annoyance. We found him in a great house, miserably furnished, at tea, with his wife and two little children. After tea, with a solemn air, lie laid his hand on the heads of the two children, prayed for and blessed them. We then set off for a four mile ride to Highgate. Mr. Irving grew upon me. I found in him much sim- plicity, and better sense than I expected. Coleridge was talked of, — an enthusiast, worshipped and idol- ized by enthusiasts. On reaching our destination we were ushered in and introduced to the idol. But let me first tell you something of his early history. The son of a clergyman, a Blue-coat boy, an Oxford scholar, in early life a skeptic, and wild enthusiast, in concert with Southey and Lovell, he planned a retirement from the world and all the errors of a social state. The three then married three sisters, but Coleridge proved most unfortunate ; he became an opium eater, separated from his wife, and sank into almost a lost character. At that time his pres- ent kind host. Dr. Gilman, by accident being called in as his medical adviser, from a feeling of pity and respect, invited him to his house for a fortnight that he might better attend to him, and has kept him for LONDON SOCIETY. 131 fifteen years in every comfort and luxury. His ap- pearance is of a man over sixty, of powerful make, large head, massive features, and large and expres- sive eyes, though rather dreamy. There was no company, but his married daughter, Mrs. C , one of the prettiest and most learned women in England. His conversation is that of a lofty religious enthu- siast, but full of deep and original thought, with a flow and power of expression I have never heard equaled. His topics were varied, but with a con- tinued tendency to the deep and personal truths of Christianity. On one point I ventured to oppose him, and found him a powerful, though coui'teous opponent. This circumstance is referred to more at large in a communication on the subject of Coleridge sent by my father to the " Churchman," after his return, in which is the following : — In the course of the evening the Rev. E. Irving, who was one of our small circle, di^ew from his pocket a letter, and prefacing it by a call on Mr. Coleridge, to counsel him in his spiritual doubts, as " being the man," said he, " from whom I have gained more wisdom than from all other men living," proceeded to read a communication just received from the celebrated Thomas Erskine, of Edinburgh, containing the particulars of the first wonderful eflPusion of tongues, as it was termed, in the family of the Campbells, near Greenock. The anxious inquiry of Mr. Irving was, " How is this to be regarded ? " Mr. Coleridge, to whom it probably was not new, being thus addressed as an oracle, answered with 132 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. corresponding solemnity and certainty, without the ambiguity complained of in oracular responses of old, " Sir, I make no question but that it is the work of the Holy Spirit, and a foretaste of that spiritual power which is to be poured forth on the reviving Church of Scotland." Though evidently in a circle who eagerly hailed the decision, I felt myself im- pelled to speak, and press upon him its want of accord with the Scriptural account of the gift of tongues, and its unworthiness not alone of the wisdom of God but of the reason of man. To my protestation he listened respectfully, though evidently unwillingly, and immediately replied, " Was not the case the same in the Apostles' days ? Is not St. Paul's argument in the fourteenth chapter of First Corinthians founded upon the supposition that the saints often spoke in tongues which no man understood ? " Pressed again by its incongruity with Scripture facts, more especially with the record of the first day of Pentecost, he finally cut short the argument with denying the genuineness of the chapter that contained it, and concluded with reiterating his first assertion. Such is Mr. Coleridge, and such are some of his wild opin- ions. But with all his errors he both was and is a wonderful man. " Sir," said Edward Irving to me after this interview, " his words sink into my mind like seeds into the ground ; they grow up afterwards, I know not how, and bear fruit." Strangely enough, my father was destined to awaken in others, as well as experience himself, this very feeling, so aptly expressed by Irving, and so true, respecting one against whom he was, at this LONDON SOCIETY. 133 time, so evidently prejudiced. His preface to the American edition of the " Aids to Reflection " having done much to make Coleridge a favorite with thinking minds on this side of the Atlantic. Monday., June 7. — Our dinner at Lady Affleck's was quite gay, though the party consisted but of four octogenarians, three ladies and one gentleman, beside Lady Affleck and ourselves. The ladies were of a species we know little of in America, wealthy old dowagers who keep up at eighty the spirits and fashion of their youth. These were, besides, clever in their way, and might have sat to Walter Scott as originals. The gentleman — but you may judge of his years when I tell you he was the confidential secretary of Warren Hastings in India, and retained the dress and manners of those most aristocratic days. He and I occupied the head and foot of the table, and entertained each other after the ladies had gone : he with tales of " auld lang syne," and I with the won- ders of our western wilds. He is enthusiastic in his praise of Hastings, and insists that instead of being cruel or rapacious in his government, he was kind and liberal even to a fault. Such, my dear aunt, is London life, and certainly not without its attractions. To me it is full of inter- est and improvement, and thus far of health. The last will, I trust, continue, that I may return and be to my dear children what a father should be. God bless you all. Friday Morning., June 10. — At twelve yesterday Mrs. Heber called and we drove out to Clapham, about four miles, a little beyond which we approached 134 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Battersea Rise, Sir Robert Inglis' very noble country mansion. Among the company were Sir Thomas and Lady Acland, with whom we are to breakfast on Wednesday next ; Sir James Mackintosh, who is the ablest man I have yet met with, — his conversation strongly marked and not a little Johnsonian ; and Mr. Wilberforce, full of kindness and warm-hearted enthusiasm, who insisted on our giving him a day next week at his seat, Highwood Hill, about ten miles from London. His appearance is that of deformity rather than decrepitude, and would be painful in the extreme were it not redeemed by the cheerful ex- pression of manner and voice ; but his mind is full of activity and intelligence, though certainly he cannot be less than seventy-five years of age, having entered Parliament, as he told me, in 1780. It was delight- ful to listen to his conversation with Sir James Mackintosh, which turned on the changes they had witnessed in public life Sunday Evening. — From Mr. Hume's we reached Lady Newton's last evening at a late hour. I had scarcely entered when Captain Franklin, now Sir John, came up to me, and in the kindest manner welcomed me to England, reproached me with not letting him know at once of our arrival, and intro- duced me to Lady Franklin. Lady Franklin is a most lovely woman, and we had a long and pleasant talk about her husband's travels, etc. They seem truly kind, and in proof we found on our return to- day from our long church that they had been to see us, and soon after got a pressing invitation for Satur- day next. LONDON SOCIETY, 135 At half past nine this morning we entered West- minster Abbey while the organ was pealing through its aisles. There is no describino- the feelings which this building inspires. I am confirmed by it in my preference of Gothic architecture for religious uses, and am pleased that I have labored to introduce it in America. But of all churches give me that in which we shall all meet again on our return, to unite in grateful thanks for all the mercies of our Heavenly Father. That will be to me as a temple not made with hands. Monday Eveiiing. — I went out this morning to- pay some visits. My first was to Lord Lyndhui'st's, to see his mother, Mrs. Copley, Mrs. Startin's sister, at whose house I was intimate twenty-five years ago. She was down at their seat, so I left my card. My next was to Sir H. Parnell, who read me a note from; Mr. Tooke, begging him to engage me at their great politico-economical dinner next week. I found him- up to his ears in papers, being full of Parliamentary business. . Leaving this, I drove to Lord Stowell's (Sir John Scott), whom I had also known well twenty- five years ago. On sending up my card with the mention of my being from America, he immediately received me with great friendliness, and recalled with wonderful accuracy the circumstances of our earlier acquaintance. His health is much broken, so that he lives altogether retired from company and seldom quits the house, which he regretted, he said, on my account, but proffered every kindness, and promised, if admissible, to get our ladies admitted behind the 136 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. throne in the House of Lords, a privilege now less easily accorded, in consequence of some indiscretion, I think, of Lady Holland's, He asked me what changes I saw in England. I answered, " An equal increase of wealth and democracy." " Ah," said he, " too true ; you find us in a bad way ! " He speaks warmly of America as a friend, and benevolently and kindly on all subjects. It is a great gratification to have had this friendly conversation with him. He is the great lawyer of the age, and is leaving behind none equal to him on the great questions of belliger- ent and mutual rights, and in general of international law. I have sent him, at his request, Mr. Webster's great speech. Tuesday^ Ibth. — We drove, to-day, to Pimlico, to Chantry's. His works have genius and truth in them ; no personifications, no allegories, I noted it to him, " No Fauns," said I, " blowing trumpets, etc.," " Ah," said he, " I leave that to greater geniuses." Three splendid pieces of Canova's are here, belong- ing to the king. I never was more struck with the progressive steps of art. Canova's at once cast all around into the shade. Chantry's castings in brass are on a -great scale. We found the men at work putting together a gigantic brazen figure of the poor dying king. Friday Morning^ 11 o'clock. — Bustle, bustle, noth- ing but hurry and bustle in London. It has kept me from my journal since Tuesday night, and I can now hardly remember the world of scenes that lies in that long interim. On Wednesday morning we had a LONDON SOCIETY. 137 delightful breakfast at Sir Thomas Aeland's with Lady Newton, Mrs. Heber, Mrs. Thornton, etc., etc. He is a baronet of old family, a descendant of the Accalans who came over with the Conqueror, a lead- ing member in the House, very wealthy and hospita- ble, a religious and an educated man. The Right Hon. Wilmot Horton, whom I was to have met, sent an apology, but with a particular request to see me as soon as convenient after breakfast. I called, and found him in committee of the Colonization Society, of which he was president, into whose views and weaknesses I was soon initiated by being requested to take part in their deliberations. I found them disjointed and at utter variance among themselves, and each party looking to new settlements in the United States for proofs, and to my testimony of the facts as likely to be in their favor. The views I gave agreed, I found, with the chairman, Mr. Horton, who stood alone, clear and intelligent, among vision- ary or interested men. It was an amusing scene. Mr. Horton and myself planned to meet again, and yesterday I received a long communication from him containing queries, etc., with his works. Saturday^ June 19. — Taking a hasty dinner after a short visit to my medical friend. Dr. Johnson, we bade adieu to London, having entered it as strangers three weeks ago, and now leaving it as if it were a second home. CHAPTER X. THE LAKE POETS : 1830. I TOOK a seat this morning, June 26, on the Bris- tol coach, starting with the rising sun. At eight we learned the news of the king's death, as we passed Windsor with the flags half-mast, and carried on the news westward, the horses at full speed, for one hun- dred miles. The rate was fifteen miles an hour sav- ing the short stops in changing our four panting steeds for fresh ones, which seldom took more than one minute and a few seconds, they always standing ready at the door, brilliant with harness and high keeping, and grooms at their heads. I thought that my neck would have been broken ;' but such was the excellence of the ^roads, the coach, and tlie driving, that the motion was scarcely sensible, and at eight p. M. arrived in safety at Clifton, at the friendly home of Mrs. Church, where the ladies had preceded me. Sunday afternoon we went into Bristol to hear the celebrated Robert Hall, a friend and classmate of Sir James Mackintosh, and not unlike him in talent. I had rather listen to him than Chalmers. There is less of splendor but more repose of manner, like a consciousness of power, and, I think, a more logical mind. I never heard such a calm full stream of THE LAKE POETS. 139 thought and language in which there was nothing to alter, either in sentiment or expression. For power over his hearers he is too rapid in delivery, and a little too monotonous. Thursday Evening, July 1. — Langollen. — The windows of our inn looked out on the lovely- winding Dee, just as it quits the most beautiful vale that eye ever rested on. Our ride to-day has had the drawback of almost constant rain. On leavino- our excellent inn at noon, we drove fourteen miles to Shrewsbury on the Severn, which we found dressed out in its holiday garb, the bells ringing a merry peal while the ceremony of proclaiming the new king, William IV., took place. Friday Morning. — We rose early and joined a family of tourists in a morning walk to Miss Pon- sonby's cottage. On the cottage was hung out, strange union, the armorial bearings, on a mourning hatchment, of her lost companion. Lady Eleanor But- ler, daughter of the late Duke of Ormond, whose tomb we afterwards visited. The character of both these ladies, as I learned by minute inquiry in the cottages around, though strongly marked by eccen- tricity, has long been that of active benevolence, and warm attachment to each other. Report gives them credit for a wise though romantic choice. For my- self, I doubt, and I felt an anxious wish to learn from the survivor the result of their experiment in seek- ing in retirement what the world could not give. However, as it was not a question to be asked, we contented ourselves with conjectures, only concluding 140 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. that the choice of a spot could never have been more happy. Though what is singular in those who had the power to choose, the cottage itself does not com- mand any of the views which have made the vale so celebrated, nor does it exhibit much other external proof of a refined taste. Saturday/, July 10. — Lov7 Wood Inn. — ■ This is the most beautiful point of Windermere, a lone house on the very brink of the lake, and only six miles from where we slept last night. Yet we have not been idle. After breakfast, at Bowness, took boat and crossed the lake, sketching a little, and quarreling with our sketches because they would not convey the hundredth part of the beauty we saw. Returning from this delightful excursion, we drove on to our present inn, and hence to Mr. Wordsworth's " Rydal Mount," leaving our plans for the night to be settled on our return. Our reception was most hospitable. Mr. Wordsworth, a tall, grave, simple mannered man, apparently about sixty ; his wife, kind, beyond what strangers had a right to expect, and his sister pleasing though less decided. We came upon them at the most awkward time of early dinner, but this caused but a short delay, after which a walk and animated conversation made all easy. The house is small and old-fashioned, but comfortable and roman- tically situated; Rydal Water is beneath you, and Windermere in the distance. Mr. Wordsworth talked much of Bishop Hobart's visit, remembered a discus- sion they had had about a word, and desired me to tell him that Capel was the Welsh corruption of THE LAKE POETS. 141 Chapel. He lives in retirement, with some local salary from government. He may be called a pure •contemplatist. Speaking of Wellington, he said he regarded his power as a military usurpation, and gave some anecdotes of his uncourteous demeanor to- wards the council, lying on the sofa, and uttering his dictum, " That won't do," etc. I could not make him understand that no danger existed of military domi- nation in the United States. After giving us a letter to Mrs. Hemans, who is staying in the neighbor- hood, and engaging us to an early tea to-morrow, we parted. Returning to our inn, we received a friendly mes- sage fi'om Mrs. Hemans and spent the hour till bed- time, partly in the romantic solitude of " Dove's Nest," and partly in an excursion with Mrs. H. and her interesting boys on this most lovely of lakes, and this most lovely of evenings we have yet had in Eng- land. Sunday., Wth. — Keswick. — Rode across the mountains, by Wordsworth's advice, to the retired village and model church of Conistone, on the banks of its OAvn placid lake. Heard a sermon full of sim- ple truth from a young clergyman of the name of Sands, with whom after church we formed acquaint- ance, and gave a seat in our roomy barouche as far as his home, which was a retired inn at the head and on the very shore of the lake, where we also stopped and took an early dinner. By half after four found ourselves again at Rydal Mount with a family toward whom we now feel as friends. It is a family fall of 142 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. simple-hearted, kind feeling, and as for Wordsworth himself, from my knowledge of the author, I think I must retract whatever I have said or thought against his poetry. His conversation is fall of interest from deep feeling and talent, and marked by peculiar sim- plicity and modesty. We felt quite at home before we parted ; and bear with us many pleasing memo- rials of our short but delightful visit, among them the following lines written by the poet in A 's album : — " Hast thou seen with flash incessant, Bubbles gliding under ice, Bodied forth and evanescent, No one knows, by what device 1 Such are thoughts — a wind-swept meadow Mimicking a troubled sea ; Such is Life, and Death a shadow From the Eock — Eternity. " Wm. Wordsworth. "Rtdal Mount, Uth July, 1830." Having sent back to our inn for fresh horses, we delayed parting to a late hour, and blessed the long twilight which enabled us to see our way through the intervening mountains to Keswick, our present home, sixteen miles^ where we arrived safely a little after ten o'clock. I forgot to mention Miss Curzon, staying at Wordsworth's, a lineal descendant of the great Alfred. Wordsworth mentioned this to me aside, and then got down a great volume of geneal- ogy, which made it clear to my doubting eyes. Monday^ July 12. — Just returned from a delight- ful evening at Mr. Southey's, where we found equal THE LAKE POETS. 143 talent as at Wordsworth's, more an air of the world, more of fashion and elegance, but less, I would say, of that warm-hearted simplicity which delighted us at Rydal Mount. Our morning was wet and cold ; the ladies employed themselves within doors, while I found my way to Southey's residence prettily situated on a risino; s-round at the outskirts of the villao-e. I found Southey in his library with his only son, his last hope, a promising and pleasing boy of twelve, and a young man whom he introduced as his nephew. On returning to the inn, we took an early dinner, then ordered horses and took the tour of the lake, Derwent Water, visiting the fall and the rocks of Borrowdale. The hour of six brought us round to Southey's, according to promise, where we were kindly received. Mr. and Mrs. Southey, her sister, three pleasing daughters just grown up, a handsome cousin from Oxford, and two beaux from Cambridge, constituted the party. The house is splendidly fur- nished with literary treasures, and fashionable in all its arrangements. Wordsworth's noble bust is one of the greatest ornaments of the sitting-room here, as Southey's is at Wordsworth's. Southey has a strik- ing face, very like, I should say from the portrait, to that of his friend Henry Kirke White. He is free in conversation, but without the flow that gives interest and poetic power to Wordsworth's. He seems to me a true Englishman in the best sense of the term, looking with reverence and pride to the old virtues and institutions of his country, and seeing in their preservation the only safety in this age of rev- 144 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. olution. His views are full of anxiety and apprehen- sion for the future. The property of the Church will not long, he said, rest untouched. Unless the Whig leaders can be finghtened into its defense the next session of Parliament will organize the attack ; which would have been made the present, he said, had the Duke felt himself strong enough. Wellington has, he thinks, broken the arm of his strength in yielding the Catholic question. Speaks well of Oxford, ill of Cambridge, and fears that this generation may not pass before the temple falls and another colony be transferred to our shores. This day, Tuesday, has been spent most agree- ably and profitably. After breakfast, Mr. Hill, the young Cambridge graduate, whom we had met at Southey's, came over by appointment with some papers and A 's book, in which Mr. Southey had written for her the following lines : — — " Both in civil and in barbarous states, The course of action takes its bias, less Prom meditation and the calm resolve Of wisdom, than from accident and temper. Private advantage at all cost pursued. Private resentments recklessly indulged. The humor, will, and pleasure of the leaders, The passions and the madness of the people, Under all climes, and in all forms of rule. Alike the one, the many, and the few ; • Among all nations of whatever tint. All languages, these govern everywhere ; The difference only is of less or more, As chance, to use the common speech, may sway ; In ■wiser words, as Providence directs. Robert Southey, Keswick, I3th July, 1830." From an unpublished poem. THE LAKE POETS. 145 The lovely morning had tempted us to plan an excm'sion to the top of Skiddaw ; in this Mr. Hill im- mediately joined, and after running back for his min- eralogical hammer, etc., we set off with a guide, two ponies, a cloak, sketch-books, and provisions. I will not waste words in description ; it was a new and in- spiriting journey, and we grew stronger the higher we mounted. A bright sun, flying clouds, lakes, mountains, and rich valleys, like gardens, were above, around us, and beneath us. As we returned we found Mr. Southey waiting for us about half-way up the mountain. The more I converse with this celebrated man the more I am delio-hted. Moral and religious truth, and sound political principles, are all elevated in his mind into a warm-hearted enthusiasm, and ex- pressed in choice language but with the greatest sim- plicity and unpretendingness of manner. His views of the present state of England are, as I have said, gloomy. " Prepare," said he, as he shook my hand in parting, " prepare to receive in your happy country a new emigration of pilgrims." Finding we had no letter to Sir Walter Scott, while we were dining, he went home and wrote one for us, also to Mr. Morri- son of London, and proffered others which I thought we would not need. Bidding farewell with much regret, at five we left Keswick for Ullswater, the last of the lakes Ave shall visit. Mr. Hill accompanied us, and next morning, hav- ing taken boat on Ullswater, we landed near the head of the lake and walked some distance with our young friend, who was going to find his way across pathless moors and over the mountains, twenty miles, alone. 10 146 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. We parted with him with regret and some anxiety for his safety, as the day soon after became dark and stormy. He is a fair specimen of educated young Enghshmen, not over refined in sentiment or man- ners, but simple and pohte, having learning without pedantry, and science and accomplishment without conceit. Science being common makes it sit more easily upon the young men here than with us. Mr. Hill, for instance, is a learned and skillful mineralogist and entomologist without thinking his knowledge any- thing peculiar. Nor, in truth, is it. Thus, on Skid- daw, we meet at least six or eight young men strolling over its varied surface, some botanizing, with their tin cases at their backs, some with their hammers and bags of specimens, and one with his little net for catching insects and bottles for preserving them, all earnest in their own pursuits and happy in them. Thus does education tell more here than with us for the gratification of after life. The same difference, too, I have noticed in female education. Modern languages, when acquired, are more familiarly under- stood, and such skill with the pencil as with us would make an artist, seems to belong here to every well- educated young woman. Returning through a storm of rain, which almost flooded us in our open boat, to our inn, we took a hasty lunch and came on to Penrith, six miles ; quit- ting with regret the region of the lakes, where the gratification of months, I may say, has been crowded into the space of a few days. The scenery in leaving Ullswater immediately changed, and, though rich, THE LAKE POETS. 147 was no longer picturesque. After leaving Penrith, twelve miles brought us to Carlisle. This began again to be classic ground. We thought of the Ro- man wall, and we looked with respect at the castle where the unhappy Mary was confined, the spot where Mclvor suffered, and the Solway Sands, where Redgauntlet made his abode among the fishermen. From Cai'lisle, nine miles to the last English village on the' border. Three miles further, two turnpike gates, close together, mark the now peaceful boundary line, one on the English the other on the Scotch side. Immediately after crossing we entered into a most romantic region. The banks of the Esk, with precip- itous sides and noble woods and dark ravines, remind- ing us of Scott's finest pictures, and justifying them all. A good Scotch tea with all its accompaniments is now sending us to a welcome bed at Langholm. CHAPTER XI. EDINBURGH SOCIETY: 1830. AT Selkirk we struck off from the direct road to Edinburgh, to take Abbotsford and Meh'ose in our way. On approaching Sir Walter Scott's we were struck with the noble castellated mansion, the splendid liveries, etc., an air of luxury, in short, I had not anticipated. Finding them not at home, I left our letter, together with my card, and drove on about two miles further, to " Chiefswood," where resides his daughter, Mrs. Lockhart, to whom we had also a letter from Mrs. Heber. Leaving our letter here also, from the same cause, we proceeded to visit an old friend whom we were certain of finding, I mean Melrose Abbey. While wandering among these splendid ruins, monuments equally of Gothic taste and modern barbarism, which filled us all with anger as well as admiration, a rather tall gentleman came in, and approaching us, introduced himself as Mr. Lockhart, saying that he and Mrs. L. and her father had reached home very shortly after we had quitted the house, and that he had followed us with all speed, the bearer of an invitation from both to spend that day with him and the next with Sir Walter and Miss Scott. The invitation was so complimentary, and EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 149 the manner of it so kind, that the temptation to accept was great, but, on the whole, we thought it best to go on, promising, at his request, a visit on our return. Mr. Lockhart's appearance and manner are rather American than British ; of a thin and rather shght figure, black hair, face pallid, approaching to sallow, and with a dash of bilious in his sentiments as well as his complexion. After some talk he introduced us to the clerk of the parish, a gossiping old man who just then entered the abbey, as the original of one of Scott's characters, and he again to his friend, Captain^ C , another original. With so many topics of in- terest, though near five o'clock, we could hardly break, away, but, though the dinner might wait our leisure,, we had thirty five miles to drive before we reached it, and these became very long as the night drew on, if this may be called night where there is no darkness. At half past ten we could still read large print by the twilight. We arrived about midnight at the metropo- lis of the north, and found our rooms at 19 Princess Street Saturday., July 17. — Up betimes and favored with a clear day, which is a rare thing with us. Walked to Dr. Chalmers', where we were kindly received by his wife, a very lovely and intelligent woman, three silent daughters, and the doctor, with characteristic frankness and simplicity. Some half dozen students or licentiates completed our breakfast circle. A chapter in the Bible and family prayers, all kneeling, was a preparation for breakfast which made us think of home. Three hours passed away 150 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. quickly and pleasantly at and around the table, and by that time we were so much pleased with each other that instead of separating we went out together, and made a new engagement for Monday morning. Before parting Dr. Chalmers wrote me a bundle of notes addressed to professors and leading literary men, in order that I might extend my acquaintance at my leisure. At two o'clock Mr. Jeffrey called on us with an apology from his wife, who had been prevented from coming in town by the weather ; we had already re- ceived a note asking us to dine with them to-day. Soon after his visit we ordered the carriage and drove out, about six miles, to Milburn Tower, the very beautiful castellated mansion of Sir Robert Liston, taking it on our way to dinner at Craig Crook, Mr. Jeffrey's country-seat. The ladies remained in the carriage. I was ushered into a splendid Gothic draw- ing-room, panneled with cedar, and after a short time Sir Robert came in apologizing for the delay, as he was dressing to go out to dinner. At the age of eighty-six he is as hale and hearty as with us are most men at sixty. Just saved our distance for dinner at Craig Crook. We were received by Mrs. Jeffrey like old friends. She declared she would have known us both, and we certainly should her, by looks, probably, but, without question, by voice and laugh, which, in this land of Ossian, I may say, came o'er me like the days of very youth. Their mansion is a modernized chapelry of the palace of Holyrood, having the picturesqueness of EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 151 the old and tlie luxury of modern days united, while the style of living is well calculated to set off both. Mr. Jeffrey's conversational powers seem to me per- fectly unique. It is a singular compound of knowl- edge, talent, satire, and badinage, covering much natural kindness and jiood feeling At two p. M. walked through sunshine and rain with all its intermediate gradations, to hear Dr. Andrew Thompson, the most powerful reasoner and the most eloquent speaker I have yet heard. He is a little- big man, with broad shoulders, a coarse face, and an enormous head, fitted for a leader either in battle or argument. Mr. Jeffrey called him the sledge-ham- mer of divines. He put me in mind of Willie Garlas in Macniel : — " Hap what would Will stood a castle, Or for safety, or for war." His sermon was written and read, but then it was read as it was written, with freedom and earnestness. I have heard no extemporary preacher but Robert Hall ; Chalmers writes and commits to memory. Mr. Jeffrey, who speaks in the highest terms of his talent, mentioned some anecdotes showing how timid and distrustful he is of his extemporary powers. When engaged in preparatory labors, he cannot bear inter- ruption. After church, paid a queer visit to a queer man. Professor Wilson, and agreed to breakfast with him to-morrow, when, perhaps, I may think better of my wild brother. Monday Night., July Vdth. — Though quite unwell to-day I have done and seen much that is interesting. 152 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. At nine went to breakfast with Professor Wilson, the successor of Brown and Stewart. We were alone and had much talk. He is a strong minded, unpol- ished man, but not of the kind one expects to see in the chair of morals. He came in as professor under the influence of Scott and Lockhart, with much opposition from Jeffrey. Disputes as to government in the university arise here as elsewhere, and a royal commission is now sitting in order to determine the relative powers of professors, patrons, visitors, etc. In fact, as it now is, each professor governs his own class, and the body of professors the whole college according to usage or opinion, with little interference from higher powers. The whole number of matric- ulated students this year is about twenty-five hun- dred. The largest class is that of chemistry about five hundred, — that of moral philosophy about one hundred and fifty. For each course <£4 10s. is paid to the professor by each student, which, with a small salary from the city funds,* makes their situation pecuniarily rather better than ours, and, with a vaca- tion of seven months, quite another thing. The majoi'ity of the students have other occupations dur- ing vacation. They are teachers, tutors, writers, etc. Professor Wilson reads his lectures and has no examination of his students. He receives, however, from his class voluntary themes, and aids them by advice in their studies. .... Returning home, found Mrs. Jeffrey with the ladies, and was soon joined by Dr. Chalmers and Sir Robert Liston. Going out with Dr. Chalmers, EDINBURGH SOCIETY. 153 we dii-ected our course to the house of Mr. Thomas Erskine, once a hterary, now a religious leader in Scotland. He is the great upholder of the miraculous effusion of the spirit in the cases at Greenock, a mania which is working up the minds of many here into enthusiasm, and, I fear, into insanity. Leaving Dr. Chalmers to conduct the ladies to the Botanic Garden, Mr. Erskine accompanied me to the new Academy, an institution which has been raised within a few years as a rival, though not so acknowledged, to the High School. It is distinguished from the latter by being more aristocratic and more upon the Eng- lish system. I had a letter to Dr. Williams, the rector, an Oxford man of Baliol, whom I found intel- ligent, learned, and full of candor. The curriculum in this school is seven years. Of their thoroughness in Latin I had fair proof. For my satisfaction Dr. Williams called out a student, a lad of fifteen, and in order to show his general knowledge of the Ian- guage requested me to give him a passage in Livy, an author he had never read. The result astonished me. His examination, after an attentive perusal of the passage, was that of one familiar, not only with the language but with the author ; others followed him with the same general result ; I have been delighted. From this I proceeded with Mr. Erskine to the splendid Botanic Garden, where we lounged till near five o'clock, delighted with all its arrange- ments and still more delighted, or to speak with more exactness, interested by my companion ; a noble, pure, talented, and pious mind, but too likely, I fear, 154 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. to become a wreck through religious enthusiasm. His conversation saddened while it charmed me, and left an impression I shall not soon lose The history of Sir Robert Liston, with whom we breakfasted this morning, is that of a self-made man, and his success the result of honorable conduct. His mother was the farmeress, as it is termed here, of the place he has now adorned with a splendid Gothic residence, and the cottage she occupied he piously preserves alongside of his castellated mansion. At the age of fifteen he still held the plough. An in- cidental but warm attachment on the part of the son of Sir G. Eliot, a neighboring youth of his own age, made him travelling companion, first to his friend and then to Lord Bute, who afterwards sent him abroad attached to a foreign emjfissy. Here he rose regularly. A long and romantifj^^attachment, delayed but not lessened by mutual pOg^erty, was at length rewarded. His long residenvjj at Constantinople made him wealthy, though, coje^rary to custom, he refused all presents. He then > married, being about fifty, and for thirty-six years lived with his wife more like a lover than a husband. He lost her eighteen months ago, and such and so long had been his devo- tion to her that his friends thought that he could not long survive it; but in active, useful exertion he finds a resource, and he is now zealously engaged in all such labor, and especially in restoring a decayed vil- lage on his property, which is a very extensive one. Speaking of Mrs. Grant of Laggan, the author- ess, he said he had a message for me from her, EDINBURGH SOCIETY, 155 namely, that I was her cousin, her maiden name being Mc Vicar, and that she desired much to see me. After breakfast Mr. Fletcher, a young artist who was one of the guests, offered to ride before us and inform her of our coming, so we agreed to call. Mrs. Grant we found living in a large house, in very comfortable style, in the outskirts of Edinburgh. We were ushered into an empty but not unfurnished, literary-looking drawing-room. She came in sup- ported by crutches, and aided by a servant, looking old and broken by years, but still with much dignity. The moment she sat down, however, she was full of life and interest. The history of the family name, the crest, the motto, she entered upon with all her Scottish feeling. Her first question was as to the coat of arms I bore, then proceeded to tell of the former wide possessions of the clan, and how the Campbells derived all their property and power from them by an intermarriage with the heiress of the Mc Vicar's. The Earl of Glasgow, she said, was the present head of our clan, and that I must go and see him, as she often discussed these matters with his lordship. So full, indeed, was she of these thoughts that she wrote in A 's album the following lines, evidently impromptu, expressive of what sh& deemed our feelings : — " Who the kindly heart would blame. That glows at a congenial name "? These kindred names, well known and dear, Are music to a Highland ear, Oft waking in a Highland eye The sacred fount of sympathy. 156 LIFE OF JOHN jI^^VICKAR. These home-bred feelings to resn-ain, The wide Atlantic rolls in rain. Where lovely maids and gallant men Dwell sheltered in their shady glen, With Pilgiim steps their exiled race Shall fondly come to view the place, And tho' assigned a happier lot, Shall bless the old ancestral spot. " AxNE Grant — bom McVicae." Wednesday, July 21sf. — Dined and spent yester- day night at Craig Crook. The company at dinner consisted of Mr. ^lurray. one of the leading advo- cates of Edinburgh, Mr. Morehead, Dean of St. Andrew's, and several others. The conversation was literaiy and interesting. Of Sir James Mackintosh, Mr. Jefirey spoke, as the ablest man of his time, a man brimful of learning without being oppressed by it, and gifted with the most prodigious and retentive memoiy, of which he gave some wonderful instances. He spoke of Professor Wilson as a talented and strong-minded man. Professor AVilson, himself, told me of his own manner of work, that when he did study or write it was generally for fifteen hours at a time, fi'om 6 a. m. to 9 p. m., without moving or eat- incr, which fits of intellectual labor were succeeded by equally immovable fits of indolence CHAPTER XII. SIR W.1LTER SCOTT — RETURX TO LONDON : 1S30. T^EAR Aunt, I now resume my pen here at •^-^ Rushby Ford, Durham, wliich at Abbotsford I did not touch, for it seemed a kind of treachery to our kind and nobie host. But you must not lose my recollections. At half past nine, Saturday morning, we bade a final fai*ewell to Edinburgh, and to the many kind friends our short stay had given us. Went six miles out of our way to visit Roslyn, with its ro- mantic castle and splendid abbey. This delayed us so long that it was near half past five when we ar- rived at Melrose, where a note was handed me be- fore we alighted, from Mr. Lockhart, to whom I had written, as I promised, begguig us to meet Sir Wal- ter at dinner that evening. Great was the huny with bacp and bacrgacre, and dresses to get readv, and with such success that by sLs we reached their beau- tiful cottage. As we approached we had a glimpse of Sir Walter at the door, but when we drove up he had retired, and Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart alone remained to wel- come us. On entering the di-awing-room, he was standing with his daughter, Miss Scott, leaning some- what, as I found was his wont, upon his cane. His 158 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. appearance — ■ but 1 will not speak of that, for I had no time to scan it. All that I saw was the face of the " Great Unknown ; " all that I felt was the pressure of that hand which penned " The Antiquary" and " The Lady of the Lake ; " all that I heard were the mellow accents of that Northern tongue, which now with courtesy and kindness, welcomed me to Scotland. The company was not large, but sufl&ciently so to afford a plea for laying the table on the green, an arrangement which, however agreeable it may have been in Arcadia, is but a perilous experiment in the latitude of Scotland ; besides, the outer air is no place for quiet talk — it is fitted for merriment, but not for intellectual conversation — so that a lowering sky became by common consent an apology for an early return to the drawing-room, where music and the song awaited us. Sir Walter's great delight is in his daughter's harp, and the ballads of the olden time, which she sings with a most winning grace. Thus passed our even- ing 5 and on parting for the night, we received and accepted an invitation to Abbotsford ; so that, as you may suppose, with gay hearts, we returned to our inn. Now, if you ask me the impression of this day, I must confess, in regard to Sir Walter, it par- took somewhat of disappointment. He was kind and courteous, but did not say much ; and when he did speak, I missed somewhat of that precision of ■ thought and power of language, which had so re- cently charmed me in Southey and Sir James Mack- intosh. But further acquaintance has enabled me to SIR WALTER SCOTT. 159 see that I was then in the heresy of ignorance. I was bringing to the measurement an inapplicable standard. It was like measuring iveight by length — it was requiring in a boundless scene of natural beauty the polish and proportions of a Grecian tem- ple. The next day being Sunday, we attended ser- vice at the kirk, occupying Sir Walter Scott's pew, which was very near the pulpit. " How did you like the preacher ? " said Sir Walter, when I again met him. " I confess," I replied, " I did not hear a sin- gle sentence. " You must not complain," said he ; " you have heard as much as any of his hearers for ten years past." This voiceless preacher, as I after- wards found, was the father of the original Dominie Sampson. Had delicacy permitted it, the father would himself have made no bad " study." On approaching Abbotsford a second time, we paused not, as before, at the gate ; but driving down through the rich young woods that embower it, and, passing through an arched and turreted gateway, found ourselves in a noble court or quadrangle. On our left rose the mansion in its rich and irregular architecture, bearing in some parts the choice re- mains of an earlier chisel, which Sir Walter has rescued from the contiguous ruins, but generally the result of native genius, working under his own eye, and passing rapidly, as he told me, " from the models of art to those of nature." In front a rich and lofty Gothic screen separated the court from the gardens, — happily attaining what Sir Walter said he had al- most despaired of doing, — " distancing without hiding 160 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. them ; " while on the right runs an arcade or clois- ter, embanking the rising ground behind it, and form- ing a sheltered walk nearly around two sides of the court. On this occasion Sir Walter met us at the door, again welcomed us to Scotland and Abbotsford, and, taking E by the hand, led the way to the library. But of that way, I must give a little descrip- tion. The entrance is through an octagonal turret, raised but a step from the ground, into a hall occupying the central front of the building : such a hall as transports you at once into the regions of romance, and the days of baronial chivalry. Its walls and ceiling are of dark oak wainscoting. At either end, on a raised pedestal, stands forth a mailed knight, with visor down and spear in rest, like sentinels to challenge all who enter — these are formed of com- plete suits of ancient armor ; one of steel, inlaid with gold, the same which was borrowed by the champion of England at the coronation of George ly. ; it cost Sir Walter one thousand guineas. Along the walls hang " shield and spear and partisan," in- termixed with horns of the bison and the elk, and the skins of beasts of prey, as if to mark its lord equally ready for the foray or the chase. The win- dows, too, throw " a rich and storied light," being of stained glass, bearing the armorial escutcheons of the whole clan of Scots, the Laird of Buccleuch, as I think, standing at their head. Around the circuit of the walls, near to the ceiling, run those again of the Border families, richly carved in oak, and underneath SIR WALTER SCOTT. 161 them the following legend, in the old Gothic letter : " These be the armour coats of thae who, in times of auld, stood up for the Marches of Scotland : thae were men of might and fought stoutly, and God did defend them." From this hall, you have access tO' the other parts of the house, and pass en suite through the following rooms : Miss Scott's boudoir ; the breakfast and dining-room ; the armory ; the with- drawing room ; the library, and lastly Sir Walter Scott's study ; which brings you again to the front of the house and end of the buildino;. Of these rooms the most splendid is the library; the most interesting, I need not add, is the study, into which last we entered not, but under its master's guidance. The library, with its noble dimensions and costly furniture ; its book-cases and cabinets of odorous cedar ; its ceiling of the same, paneled and carved after the model of Melrose ; its wellr filled shelves ; its beautiful oriel window projecting and spreading out over the Tweed; its curtains of crimson damask with heavy gold fringe ; its varied' articles of use, curiosity, and luxury ; all combine to make it a most splendid room. Of these articles^ many are presents. Here, for instance, stands a mas- sive chair, once a cardinal's, the carving of which ranks it among the productions of genius : this is from Rome. There hangs an antique lamp, a relic of the majesty of Venice. Here, in a corner, stands Dean Swift's walking cane ; and that splendid silver sarcophagus, on its low pedestal, is the gift of the unfortunate Byron. How many associations does 11 162 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. even that one awaken ? Within it are the bones of ancient heroes — for over their tombs were built the old walls of the Pireeus — yet who can name them ? The lines inscribed " Expende Hannibalem," etc., feelingly convey this lesson, — while the name of Byron, which the donor would not put, but which Scott has added, brings touchingly to mind the dan- ger and the misery of earthly genius unsanctified by religion. The letter accompanying this gift has been purloined from its sacred resting-place. When shall such a theft dare to be shown ? Sir Walter deeply regrets its loss, for of Byron he often speaks — some- times with high admiration — always with tender feelings. " Poor Byron," is his familiar appellation, which words, uttered in his deep tones, go to the very heart. But with all its splendor, the library yields in in- terest to the room beyond — his private study : for there stand his table and his chair, calling up the visions of his past labors ; and there lie his pen and papers, the evidence of his present ones ; and there, too, his uncorrected yet hasty manuscripts, which show from what a rapid fountain his thoughts must have poured forth. That which lies upon the table I dare not read ; but from what he says, conclude it is upon the superstitions of the Highlands. Around this room, at the height of about ten feet — for the ceiling is a high one — runs a light gallery, which gives access by a private door to his bed-room, so that he can at all times command privacy. In ad- dition to cases made from wood that once formed the SIR WALTER SCOTT. 163 *' Heart of Mid-Lothian," filled with books of more frequent reference, the walls of his study are covered with portraits and scenes of Scottish and Border story. Among them, those of Claverhouse and the unfortunate Mary seem his especial favorites. This first day we had company at dinner and until near bed-time. His style of living is with considerable state. The buildings are very extensive, and lighted throughout by gas, prepared in one of the remotest parts. Two servants in livery, and his own gentle- man in black, are in regular attendance. Of the embarrassments arising from the failure of his pub- lishers, with whom the law adjudged him to be a partner, I have learned but little. The impression given me by Mr. Jeffrey and others in Edinburgh, was that these engagements, amounting originally to near X 100,000, were in a great measure liquidated: partly by a heavy policy on his own hfe of (I under- stood) .£40,000, and partly by the sale of his subse- quent works. But to proceed with my story. Mon- day, 26th July, shall be marked by us henceforth with a " white stone,"' as having been spent with Sir Walter Scott alone. Then, indeed, for the first time was I made fully aware of being in the presence of " the mighty master ; " for, as with other magicians, the spell increased as the circle narrowed. The truth is, Su\ Walter Scott is not to be judged of in general society : he never argues, never dogmatizes and never talks learnedly ; his head and heart seemed filled with better thoughts and things ; an overflowing benevolence ; sympathy for all breathing things ; an 164 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. imagination that teems with all images of natural loveliness ; feelings that tremble with every touch of natural affection ; a memory that so lives in the records of the romantic past, that a metaphysician might well doubt to which century its possessor in truth belonged ; and a sweet simplicity and unas- sumingness of manner that adds the attractiveness of childhood to the words and thoughts of genius, — these are the elements of his strength, and when seen in private they are overpowering in their influence. Then a book, a portrait, or a chance word, unlocks, as it were, by magic, some hidden fountain ; then comes forth at once the splendid train of thought and feeling and imagery, the Border stoiy, the touching ballad, and the heart-rending incident ; in the mean while his eye lightens up, often suffused with tears, and his voice deepens to a tone that thrills through the nerves like the deep notes of the organ. In this I can liken him to nothing but his own pic- ture of the awakened minstrel — when — " The present scene, his future lot, His toils, his wants, were all forgot." But in all this, his true-hearted modesty never for- sakes him. In all his poetic recollections, which, on such occasions, came swelling like a tide into his mind, I never once heard him repeat a line of his own ; and whenever the subject of his poems was alluded to, he avoided it with a simplicity which al- ways left me in doubt whether he understood the allusion. The old adage of " genus irritabile " ap- plies not to him : a sneer is as foreign to his nature SIR WALTER SCOTT. 106 as it is to the expression of his countenance ; and, as far as words and manners go, he certainly knows not what envy is. Of the race of his contemporaries, there is scarce one of whom we did not speak ; and not one of whom he spoke otherwise than with re- spect and kindness ; and wliat at any time was want- ing in praise, was sure to be made up in kindness of manner. On his repeating one evening a sea-song of Allan Cunningham's, beginning, " A wet sheet and a flowing sea," etc., which he did with great power, I expressed my surprise at its beauty, and said, "Does Cunningham often write such?" He replied, " My friend Allan is like a boy that shoots many arrows at a mark — some of them must hit." Of Coleridge, Wordsworth, and Southey he spoke often ; and his all powerful memory was ever prompt to bring forth their choicest passages. On mention- ing to him Southey's desponding views of political affairs, " Ah ! " said he, little aware how much the past had blinded his own eyes, " Southey is a retired and bookish man." On expressing my agreeable disappointment in Jeffrey's character, whom before personal acquaintance I had regarded as a cold and cynical critic, he replied with warmth, " You never did man more injustice ; his heart is all tenderness ; " and of his own family affections you may judge by his warm exclamation when the conversation turned to such themes, " I bless God " said he, " that He has given me good affectionate children." I may here mention that these are four in number : Walter, in the army ; Charles, in the foreign department ; Mrs. 166 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAB. Lockhart, and Miss Scott. As we sat alone after dinner, I ventured to introduce the subject of his long " Incognito." He entered into it kindly if not freely. His near friends, he said, always knew it, though not by acknowledgment, while to the direct inquiry of others he felt himself under no obligation to give an answer. " It was not a crime," said he, " of which I was accused, and therefore I was not bound to answer ; the secret began in caprice, and was continued perhaps from other motives." Upon my mentioning the name of his brother in Canada as one to whom in America they had often been attrib- uted, he replied with so much feeling that I feared again to mention the name, " Ah ! poor Tom " (I think he called him) ; " he could have written them^ and better ; he had great powers, and I often urged him, but in vain : he never wrote me a line." On asking him here the metaphysical question, whether imagination had ever furnished him with materials not traceable to experience, he replied, after a mo- ment's pause, that his characters were always drawn from nature, and many of them individual pictures but slightly altered. " This likeness on one occa- sion," said he, " betrayed my secret ; the original of ' Oldbuck ' was an old friend of my father's, whom I well remembered as a boy. It was too faithful a copy not to be known. Mr. , on its publication, meeting me, said, as he clapped me on the shoulder, ' Ah, Scott, you wrote that ; no one could paint our old friend to the life but you or I.' " Upon my men- tioning some other wild surmises as to their author- SIR WALTER SCOTT. 167 ship, after answering them, he concluded with a smile, as if in reference to my pertinacity, " In truth, I find that I have kept the secret so long and so well as now to find some difficulty in proving my own." On Monday morning. Sir Walter I'ose as usual about six o'clock, wakened, as he regularly is, by his favorite dog, a large staghound of the ancient breed, given him, as he tells me, by Dandie Dinmont him- self. This dog, by the by, is his constant compan- ion. At meals, he waits behind his master's chair, and not unfrequently puts his paw upon his shoulder to remind him of his presence ; follows him through the day in his drives and walks ; dozes at his side while he writes ; and completes his tour of duty by guarding him while he sleeps, — his bed being a bear- skin couch. At break of day, he again arouses his master Avith a gentle paw, knowing well that he has work to do in which the whole world is interested, and not the least the canine race, of whose virtues he himself has so often sat as the model. In truth, I look upon this dog with equal respect and kindness, as " part and parcel " of the novelist himself. Until breakfast time, that is, for about two hours, Sir Walter writes, and about an equal time after it, which brings him to eleven o'clock ; after which he calls himself a free man, writing no more that day, unless per- chance in the long evenings of winter. On leaving his study this day, he immediately proposed to A and M a drive through his plantations, of which he is justly proud, and as far as Melrose ; to which iG8 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. they, as you may suppose, well pleased, acceded. His morning's dress accords -with his simple rural habits ; a well-worn, green hunting-coat, with ample flaps and pockets, a flat cloth cap, and an oft-used whistle pendant from his hutton-hole, agree well with the large frame and manly figure, though slight stoop, of one whom you might take to be a Scottish laird of high degree and simple tastes, — of one who was be- ginning to feel the weight of years, without having lost the taste or enjoyment of the more active sports of youth. In this guise I see him now setting forth in his low-wheeled, open barouche, accompanied by our two girls and followed by his deep-mouthed favor- ite and two others of minor breed. On visiting the scarcely perceptible ruins of the early Melrose on the heights, he expatiated, they tell me, good humoredly on the taste of the lazy monks, who could prefer the fat lands of the valley to such heart-stirring scenes ; and on passing at a little distance a Scotch lassie, knee-deep in the river, fishing, he said (whether in joke or earnest), " There stands my Die Vernon." But I must not defraud them of the pleasure of tell- ing of their drive, which they describe as all delight- ful from his attentive kindness and his unceasing flow of anecdote and ballad, in reference to every spot they visited, or individual of note of whom they chanced to speak. On his return I met him in the library ; as he ap- proached he handed me from a packet of letters just received, a small, hard roll of parchment, tied with cord, and secured by a lump of raw wax. " Open SIR WALTER SCOTT. 169 it," said he ; ■" it will be something to tell, that a Re- publican dared to break the seal of a writ of the king ; " " At the orders," I would have added, " of one whom kings delighted to honor," bvat his modesty awed me, and I dared not. It was a writ for the general election. Parliament being dissolved by the king's death, and was addressed to him as high sheriff of Selkirkshire, — the style and form of it have con- tinued unchanged, he tells me, from the time of the , earliest Edward ; and hence its rude accompani- ments, A reformed Parliament, however, will no doubt order all that much better. Remembering the dash of superstition which he invariably gives to his fictions, and which always seemed to me to be ex anhno, I took occasion to ask, after several surprising narratives given by him of individuals possessing the power of second sight, whether he had, in the course of his life, met with any such which could not be rationally explained? He paused some moments before he answered, " I cannot say that I have." Still, however, whether by natural or early association, a lingering respect for such fears, not to say belief in them, often appears in him. And how, indeed, could it be otherwise, with with a mind of such preponderating imagination, of which credulity (I mean it in a poetic sense) must be one of its highest elements. That mind must be- lieve in the reality of its own creations, or it could not give them life, and cannot therefore judge harshly the illusions of other men. Of Coleridge, he quoted with applause the answer, " That he had seen too 170 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. many ghosts to believe in them ; " and then in refer- ence to that wayward writer, said, " He is never ending, still beginning ; could he be tied to his chair and to a water diet, he would be the greatest genius living." One evening as we sat in the library alone, on some mention of a present he had received, he opened a cabinet and brought out a store of them, — rings, seals, snuff-boxes, miniatures, etc., without number: each had its own little story. On showing us a splendid gold snuff-box presented to him by the king, George IV., with his likeness on the lid, he said, " A princely return for a little book which the king had requested of him." But on one trifle he seemed to set a peculiar value : it was an antique stone ring, found in the Highlands of Scotland, believed to be of Carthaginian origin, and commonly called the Adder's Stone, of which he said there were but three known, whose owners he then enumerated, to each of which, by popular superstition, rare virtues were attributed, and, more especially, to drop one from the hand por- tended some great misfortune to its owner. To guard against such an event, to this one was attached a small silver chain, which was to be slipped over the fingers as a security. He took the precaution, I observed, in his own case, and as A received it from him, he said in an apologetic way, as he put the chain on her fingers, "Permit me," before untwisting it from his own hand. Upon my introducing the subject of the printed editions of his works in America, he spoke of literary SIR WALTER SCOTT. 171 property as a literary man cannot but speak, namely, as one of its most sacred forms ; and I in turn spoke, I was sure, the feelings of my countrymen, in saying, that in proportion to our admiration of his works was our regret at the inadequacy of our laws to secure to him his rightful returns. " On one occasion," said he, " after trying in vain to prevent their bribery of some one having access to the press, in order to remind the publishers in your country that they were trespassing on others' property, I sent to my printer a sheet utterly unsuitable, as the conclu- sion to one of my novels just publishing — which sheet was immediately canceled as soon as I had reason to believe the surreptitious copy was sent off." " Now this," said he, " I call a fair trick. But seri- ously," he continued, " I think it is but just and be- coming; that a common language should make com- mon copyright, as is now the case by treaty between the Prussian and Austrian dominions." As we had just returned from a tour to Loch Ka- trine, and the abode of the McGregors, with " Rob Roy " and " The Lady of the Lake in our hands, " as our most faithful guide-books, this was an obvious theme ; he entered upon it freely ; and when his heart was warmed, it only wanted that I should have had (as Boswell says), " a short hand or a long head," to have added another tale to those of " Old Mortality," or with but slight addition of melody, another canto to " The Lady of the Lake." " Rob Roy," is, after all, one of Sir Walter's choicest heroes ; he prides himself in showing in his armory the light, short gun of the 172 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. far-famed freebooter. On our mentioning the inn at the Trosacks : " Then," said he, " you saw my friend Stewart (the host), the grandson of that ' Ewan of Briglands,' who paid with his Kfe for his tender heart towards poor Rob Roy ; he cut the belt and let him slip ; he was my authority for that fact." But details I must reserve for our long winter evenings, if Heav- en is pleased to bring us together again ; in the mean time, I close my long narrative. On the second day I sent for post-horses, fearing to trespass by a longer stay, but Sir Walter countermanded them, saying in his own kind manner, " You are not quite well, and I cannot part with you ; besides I owe it, for it was all Lockhart's doing with his 'fete champetre.' " Though the indisposition was but trifling, the kind- ness was great, and the remembrance of it will be enduring ; it has added love to veneration, so that in my future recollections of Sir Walter Scott, the vir- tues of the man will come to my heart, before his merits as an author. On the third day of our stay at Abbotsford we took leave. Sir Walter returning to A , as he parted from her, a little book, in which, on a blank leaf, he had written these words : — "To meet and part is mortals' lot, You've seen us — pray — forget us not; Such the farewell of Walter Scott." London, August 3. — Our Paris news darkens the future. " To go or stay, that is the question," and a very doubtful one. To quit England, with all its high interests so close to our own, and so many kind friends LONDON. 173 making it homelike, for a land of strangers, a foreign tongue, and unkindred people — I sometimes feel like one about to leap a gulf which he will afterwards regret. I shall pause a while for guidance. So having closed that question for a few clays at least, I took a cab for city bvisiness, and to renew the broken links of our London acquaintance. But here again I find the city a different place in August from what it was in June. Sir Thomas Acland, at his seat in Devon- shire, but from him a kind letter of invitation ; Mrs. Bates on the wing, but promising to meet us on the Continent ; Mrs. Heber, already gone, accompanied, I was sorry to learn, by Count Valimachi, the Greek noble, to whom she had introduced me at her own house. This was all I then heard ; but my next visit to Lady Morton cleared up the mystery by the infor- mation of a secret marriage, communicated only the morning of her departure to her old and best friend, Sir Robert Harry Liglis, by a hasty note, saying, " That knowing his sentiments it had not been com- municated to him before ; " and in short, that her friends must make the best of it. Among the few acquaintances I found in town, was the Hon. Joseph Hume, M. P., preparing for his Middlesex election to-morrow, to which he has en- gaged me to accompany him. .... At eight, A. M., Thursday, a long and splendid procession of private coaches appeared in Regent Street decorated with blue ribbons and oak favors. Among them I recognized Mr. Hume's char- iot, which, drawing up for me, I entered, joining two 174 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. gentlemen, strangers, who informed me that Mr, Hume was before us with his committee, which cavalcade we joined at the committee-room in Pall Mall, thence proceeding on our splendid, but tedious journey of eight miles to the hustings at Old Brent- ford. On entering Mr. Hume's carriage I had ob- served that the gentlemen in it, as well as all others, wore in their button-holes, and also attached to their hats, a sprig of oak, the badge of their party, but never thought myself interested till one of the gen- tlemen, as I afterwards learned, a nephew of the new member, seeing me without any, very courte- ously divided his, and handing it to me requested me to wear it. It was an awkward moment, but feeling it inconsistent with my position as an Ameri- can who had come to see rather than to approve, I declined, good humoredly, on the ground that as an American citizen I was precluded from accepting all title or insignia of honor in a foreign land. At the committee-room my companions were changed, but not for the better, the new-comers insisting that without a badge I would not be safe in an excited crowd, and still more that I could not be received on the hustings among the special friends of the new member. I simply replied that all that was a matter of indifference to me, and concerned only Mr. Hume, upon whose invitation I had come. The result jus- tified my confidence. ' Through excited crowds we passed for miles with much applause, some abuse, but no disorder ; and at the hustings Mr. Hume took me forward within the privileged rail, introducing me LONDON. 175 to Sir John Cam Hobhoiise, and the other members of his committee. On the Hon. Mr. Byng's arrival, the other radical candidate, amid much cheering, his horses were taken from the carriage, the mob taking their place, an honor which Mr. Hume had declined. But the election was still delayed for hours, waiting the ai'rival of the high sheriff, Sir James Richardson, who had gone down with the kino; in his first visit to the " Tower." On his arrival, the usual acts ao-ainst bribery, etc., were read, proclamation made, the elec- tors addressed by the candidates, Mr. Hume and Mr. Byng being the only names proposed ; and, in fine, no opposition appearing, and no show of hands called for, they were declared by the sheriff the elected members for Middlesex. On leaving the stand Mr. Hume was "chaired " by his followers, borne aloft on their shoul- ders through the excited multitude. But I paid dear for my curiosity, for as I gazed upon the scene with something of a Republican's contempt, my pockets were skillfully turned inside out, my purse gone, every- thing except my watch. Remembering at the moment my dinner engagement with Sir Robert Inglis, and time pressing, I was forced at once to exchange my slow chariot for a swift coach, and, by means of a lit- tle stray silver that had escaped, to find my way back to London and Regent Street. Happily I there met my own carriage with wife and daughters ; they, tired of waiting, had just set off, intending to make an apology for my absence. It was a fortunate meeting, for I should otherwise have lost one of the most delicrhtfxil remembrances 176 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. of English society. A few choice friends, added to a large family circle, Sir Robert and Lady Inglis, with their young wards, the orphan daughters of Thornton, the eminent banker, philanthropist, and Christian, formed a doubly attractive picture to Americans who had been inclined to associate rank and wealth and social position, with fashion and worldly display. We here saw the reverse — genuine simplicity of heart, manners, and character, adorned by high accomplishments, with a tone of deep Chris- tian sentiment, pervading and dignifying all. With little taste for music myself, I was still never weary listening to the grand cathedral anthems played and sung by the Misses Thornton ; so sweet and soothing, it gave me new ideas as to the melody of sweet sounds. From this high enjoyment we returned at a late hour to our lodgings. * Friday, August 6. — At half past six drove to Mr. Hume's. A splendid dinner, though small, of about fifteen covers, to the leaders of his party. Sir Francis Burdett, Sir John Ellis, Sir John Cam Hob- house, Sir J. Williamson, high sheriff, etc., etc. I sat between Mr. Byng — the other elected or rather reelected member, Mr. Byng having represented Middlesex for forty years — and Colonel Jones, natu- ral son of the late Lord Landsdown, and had a most agreeable and spirited talk generallj'. Sir Francis Bur- dett, as the popular leader, was first in importance, though not in conversational powers. Li person, he is tall and thin, with feeble features, a high, narrow, bulg- ing forehead, and small, gray, twinkling eyes. You LONDON. 177 may judge of the expense of contested elections from his telling me that his three Middlesex elections and two consequent examinations had cost him near £100,000, or half a million of dollars ; hence in hard times, he added, contested elections were rare. The expenses of yesterday, uncontested, were about .£15,000, though upon Mr. Hume asserting that it had cost nothing to any one, I ventured to assert the reverse, on the score of my emptied pockets. Saturday, August 7. — Mr. Southey having given me a letter to a Mr. Morrison of London, as one who had revolutionized the retail business, and made an immense fortune by it, I determined to seek him out. Having nothing special before me, I this morn- ing set forth. But London does not admit of having but one point of interest. On my way, passing near the Royal Palace I remembered my promise of call- ing on the king's son, Colonel Fitz-Clarence, residing with his father, as he, more affectionately than rev- erentially had expressed it, " to take care of him." I left my card, not finding him in, and thence, pass- ing eastward to the city, paid a similar fruitless visit to Bishop Copleston at his London residence. At length I reached Mr. Morrison's actual scene of busi- ness, the source of his wealth, the greatest retail store in the world, where the shop had grown up into an establishment, covering a whole square, — with its independent departments, respective heads respon- sible, each with its array of clerks, and cash sales to the amount of many millions. So much for the petty shop, while the petty shop-keeper himself has 12 178 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. grown into one of the grandees of tlie land for wealth, and is now recently incorporated among its legisla- tors, being just elected Member of Parliament for the Borough of St. Ives, Devonshire. Mr. Morrison being now among his constituents, his partner became my guide through the establishment, and enlightened me as to the secret of his success. But I will not weary you wdth the details. The principles are self- evident, requiring only the administrative talent. No credit, cash sales, rapid conversion of capital, minute subdivision of labor, above all, the credit of perfect fidelity in prices and quality of goods, with small profits, and nightly closing of every account. These rules, faithfully observed, have, within a few years, wrought the above miracles and brought the shop-keeper to sit with princes. In the evening I walked to Mr. Bates'. Found him much changed in views after reading my pam- phlet on " Reexchange " with New York ; he now favors it. On my praising the perfect silence that prevailed in his large counting-rooms, his answer was striking. " A single word would indicate that some clerk had neglected his duty." He then proceeded to unfold its beautifully quiet organization. On reaching the counting-house, at half-past nine, the letters of the day are laid before him, numbered from one, say, to fifty, and notes are made upon them for inspection, they thence pass into the hands of the corresponding clerks, of whom there are five in con- stant employ, — two English, one French, German, etc., each taking his own and noting in their own LONDON. 179 memorandum book " when, how, etc.," to be an- swered. Thence they pass to the underwriting clerk, to the sale clerk, etc., each noting his own duty performed, all by writing and without speaking, eventually reaching again by three or four o'clock the hands of the principal, the work done. Monday, August 9. — Received at breakfast a note from the palace from Colonel Fitz-Clarence, favorite son of the king, saying that he would be happy to see me at his head-quarters. This was an honor not to be declined, so, notwithstanding the hurry of a last day in London, I determined to call, though it had to be dovetailed among many visits and much necessary business. Setting out, I first directed my course to the Dutch minister's to learn the actual state of Brussels, which the papers spoke of as in a great ferment from sympathy with Paris, and unsafe for travellers. He, on the contrary, laughed at my fears, and bade me go with confidence. Driving thence to Mr. Hume's, I found him on the wing for Scotland, to boast his new parliamentary honors as representing the metropolitan county, having heretofore represented an obscure Scotch borough. On reaching the Horse Guards, Colonel Fitz-Clarence's head-quarters, I left my card, finding him officially engaged. But calling again on my return, after some matter of business, his secretary stated that he had left orders for my reception. From a small reception-room I was at once ushered in, and in five minutes, to give you an idea of his cordial reception and open natural manners, I found 180 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. myself engaged as with an old friend. One bond, at least, was clear, his feelings towards my home and country. "I would have been a rebel myself," said he, " for the cause of representation. Without it taxation is tyranny. My father thinks so, and so do I." Respect and kindness were in all that he said or repeated of his father, the king. " The sailor king," as he himself admitted, adding in a tone of familiar confidence, " I am very anxious to get him down into the country. London is not the place for him now among his old associates." After an hour's pleasant talk and giving me a letter of introduction to one of the Savans of Paris, and urging me to give freely to any friend of mine in America a letter to him, we parted. I secretly wished, for England's sake, that he, instead of his imbecile father, had been in the line of succession. My last visit was to bid farewell to Mr. Herries, my early acquaintance and recent friend, Chancellor of the Exchequer now ; at my former visit, as the son of a ruined merchant, struggling for support. One further visit both of duty and pleasure remained ; it was to our able and kind minister, Alexander McLane and family, including my old friend Washington Irving, Secretary of Legation. Talking of his diplo- matic intercourse with the government, Mr. McLane tells me that it has been specifically with Lord Aber- deen and Mr. Herries, with occasional reference to the Duke of Wellington on knotty points for a final settlement. Of Aberdeen he speaks as a highly honorable man, single-minded but slow. Of Herries, LONDON. 181 as a perfect man of business and master of all ques- tions that come up, and the facts bearing upon them ; but still more highly of the great duke as the most candid, satisfactory diplomat he had ever met : patient in listening, courteous in manner, seeking informa- tion, and, when his judgment was settled, clear, liberal, and decided in stating it. " ' Now, Mr. McLane,' he would often say to me in such discussions, ' I do Jiot understand that matter. Explain it to me. Up to such a point we are agreed. There we begin to differ. You hold that course, I think this view best ; now then explain,' etc. So that," Mr. McLane added, " I never left him in any doubt as to his opinion on any controverted question, nor as to how far we agreed, and where and how we differed." Returning to a hasty dinner before embarking, the doubtful question arose as to how we were to travel on the Continent. This speculation soon received a solution in a very kind note from Sir Robert Inglis, urging or rather insisting on our use of his travelling barouche, to be found at Ostend, an order for it being inclosed, for oar summer tour on the Continent, and to be redeposited, on our return, at an hotel named, either at Calais or Paris. This liberal offer, twice repeated, was at length accepted with thanks, as giv- ing us more of comfort and freedom of movement in our journey than we could otherwise have com- manded. And so, good-night to England ! Hence- forth Germany, or France, or Switzerland is to be my theme, which, if you feel with me, will be a change 182 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. for the worse. The ladies of our party are confident, and promise themselves great things ; but for my- self, I cling to England with filial affection doubly strengthened by our present visit. CHAPTER XIII. THE continent: 1830. 1 WRITE from this old town of Ghent on the twelfth day of August. Our passage across the channel was stormy, but daylight soon brought us into smooth water and alongside the pier of Ostend, surrounded by strange faces and strange sounds. The morning opened dark but soon brightened. The custom-house, our dread, gave us no trouble. The revolution in Paris had converted all into Republi- cans, and the very name of " American " was sacred in their ears. " Je suis Am^ricain," was an " open sesame " for all that I wanted to see, know, or do. My passport was vised without being looked at, my baggage unquestioned, my trunk keys refused when proffered, and the usual fee declined. All this I re- ceived as a tribute to my country, and warmly thanked the chief official for it. His rejoinder was " Ah, vous etes Am^ricain ! C'est une Paradis Terrestre ! " Finding, on inquiry, that Sir Robert's barouche was not here, but at Brussels, I made choice of a comfortable vehicle and good driver to take us there. .... This morning, Thursday, breakfast was scarcely fin- ished when Mr. Cornelisson of the University of 184 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. Ghent, to whom I had sent my card and letter of in- troduction the evening before, was announced. He immediately planned our day for us, and while our carriage was getting ready set off for the university, there to meet us. This is a noble specimen of royal patronage, doing in six years the work of a century in fostering education and science. Its present number of students is five hundred. Fortunately this was the day of the commencement ceremonial, which, how- ever, was not till three p. m., so we bade Mr. Cor- nelisson farewell till that hour. Finding our way to the cathedral, we entered during high mass, the splendor of which and its impressiveness on the imagination, I had never before witnessed, nor even conceived. Three o'clock found us again at the university, where, with great pomp, in the quasi presence of majesty, amid the flourish of trumpets, the rewards were declared, and medals of honor hung round the necks of the successful students as they kneeled to receive them at the hands of the president of the university. One touching incident occurred. The father of one of the first medalists, a chief burgher of the city, was seated on the stage when his son advanced, about to kneel to the president, but a wave of hands directed him to his father, on kneeling to whom the chain of gold, with its accompanying medal, was hung upon his neck amid the plaudits of all. After a drive through the public grounds we visited the convent of , the last great nunnery remaining in the Netherlands. Having inspected the interior, THE CONTINENT. 185 we attended the chapel at vespers, where seven hun- dred kneehng figures without form, except here and there two outstretched arms from under their long veils, black below and white abov€, formed a specta- cle as striking as it was new. But the interior of the convent was neither melancholy nor romantic, being self-supporting through teaching and needle- work. I heard as hearty a laugh from the lady abbess, in answer to some simple question of mine, as I ever heard. The sisters take no vows, and may quit at any time they please, though my conductress said that in her own case she was not likely to do so, as she was happier than a queen ; " for queens," said she, " sometimes have to flee fi'om their homes, as the Queen of France the other day." We parted with mutual kindly feelings. The Belgians appear to be both by nature and habit a very thriving, contented people. They work moderately, live comfortably, and look healthy and long-lived. The men you see toward evening gath- ering into circles in their picturesque caps and large silver shoe-buckles, playing at quoits, or with their favorite pipe and pot of ale, not carousing, but quietly sittmg on the "dry, smooth, shaven green," or on benches under the shade of some ancestral tree at the door of a temperate-looking, quiet ale-house. The women, meanwhile, at such hour, appear in their best, — gold earrings, rich lace caps, or fringed cloaks and hoods, — spinning or knitting just outside their door, with children in groups of eight or ten engaged in play, or work so light that they make play of it. 186 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. In this country, except its level surface, everything is picturesque. The houses have all a mediseval look, grouped with angles and projections awakening curiosity, while the interiors puzzle you with their numerous and intricate divisions. Their horses look as if they had just stepped out of Van Dyke's can- vas, — war-horses, full-limbed, hollow-backed, with crested necks, and sweeping tails touching the ground, and manes as rich and heavy. And they may well look proud under their master's care, judging at least from our own hired team. Every few miles the driver stopped, went to their heads, gave them some- thing from his pocket, and seemed to have a little talk with them. At length the lunch time having come, he opened a box in the carriage and taking out a handsome brown loaf, with his ever ready pocket- knife proceeded to help, not himself, but his horses, giving them alternately slice after slice till they were satisfied. In short, nothing is fed raw to any of their animals — all ground and cooked. But falling into conversation with an intelligent tradesman, I found the people restless and discontented; taxes heavy, all forms of business under privilege, and all for the benefit of Holland ; nothing for their own Belgium. Tuesday, August 17. — Huy on the Meuse. — .... This is our first appearance in oar borrowed splendor, and I must give you some idea of it. Our carriage is of Russian form, though probably Paris built, covered or open at pleasure, capacious and com- fortable, with cushions and stuffings, with innumerable pockets at the sides and nettings above, and a boot THE CONTINENT. 187 below opening from within for convenience and safety, and a seat in front for the courier. To this vehicle are harnessed four post-horses, and at times six, all governed by a single post-boy with more gold and scai'let about him than belongs to a general. His seat is on the ofF-wheeler, governing the leaders by reins and by the crack of his far-sounding whip. His "jack-boots," come half-way up his thighs, his great spurs rattling like bells, which last, however, are not wanting to the horses, who jingle along, dressed out also with innumerable scarlet tassels. Amid this display, the postilion stands chief, and is in fact an officer of government. In such style we yesterday rattled out of Brussels, and such must it continue henceforward, " coute qui coute." .... Saturday^ August 21. — On reaching Andernach on the Rhine, we stopped, and finding my host an intelligent listener, I expressed my surprise at what seemed the evident neglect of early education in the absence of school-houses, giving him a picture of our ' American public schools. He smiled and said, " Ours is still more exact and complete." On my still doubt- ing, he said, " Go with me now and judge for your- self." I went, and was soon convinced of my error. " Law," said he, " overrales parental neglect. No man has a right to throw fire-brands into the com- munity, and such is every ignorant, vicious youth. Education is therefore a matter of police, and so efficient that I venture to assert that in this city of thirty thousand inhabitants not a child is to be found, however poor or degraded the parents, who cannot, 188 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. at the age of eight, read, write, cipher, and sing noted music from the blackboard. Botany and drawing is also practically studied with a benevolent end, large colored engravings of the poisonous plants of the country, in their various stages, being hung around the walls for the children to copy and thus become familiar with." After an excellent breakfast with " cQtelettes de mouton au naturel," the hardest thing in cookery to get from a German cuisine, we set off on our road to Coblentz, ten miles, in company with a Prussian Prince and suite in command of a " Corps d' Armee," encamped on our way on the very bank of the Rhine. About midway we approached them, and finding their religious services about opening, we waited and joined in them. It was to us not only a novel but a splendid and solemn service. The white tents and varied flags, spread over a noble plain running down to the flowing Rhine, with all its picturesque surroundings, was a most impressive scene ; but still more the congregation of ten thousand full armed troops in their array, in profound silence, before a single preacher, uncovering their heads with military precision at the same moment at the voice of prayer, or pealing forth one of Luther's grand hymns in the deepest tones of dear " Fader-Land," — this was a service not soon to be forgotten. Dined to-day at the table d'hote with a numer- ous and varied party, some English and Russians, but chiefly Prussian officers of high rank. The dinner was a truly German affair, six courses and almost as THE CONTINENT. 189 many hours, with music to fill up the intervals. A painful contrast it was to the poor fare of the soldiers in the camp, one meal in twenty-four hours, and that a slim one ; his pay five groschen, two retained for his rations, and his bread to be bought beside. Prus- sia, next to Russia, has at present the largest military establishment in Europe ; nominally 350,000, actually 140,000, and that from a population of but twelve millions ; — too much for the prosperity of their peo- ple, especially along the Rhine, who complain that the exactions of the Prussians are treble those of the French. To the latter they look as their friends, having broken up the old baronial tenures, dissolved religious houses, and sold their lands, making the oc- cupants generally proprietors. The King of Prussia has long promised the people a " Constitution," but as yet has not found it convenient to give one. The approaching marriage of the prince with his cousin, of the Netherlands bids fair to liberalize their policy. But even Holland has its own troubles in its rebeL lious Belgium, which looks to union with France, ,on' the score both of safety and trade, and above all, as freeing them from their most hated tax, to pay Dutch debts and maintain Dutch dikes. But not- withstanding this grumbling, Belgium has grown rich under Dutch rule. I have been everywhere struck with the good sense and liberality displayed by the king in the employment of his great wealth. In silent partnership with a great English manufacturer and machinist, he has spread his factories over half the kingdom, and is daily bringing the coal and iron 190 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. and stone of Belgium into the same great operative agency they perform in England. Now of this ubiq- uitous Messrs. Cockrell & Co., the king suppHes the capital, and is the humble "iCo." Rose early to enjoy a fine morning in the great square of Coble ntz, with military, music and parade. The Prussian drill is certainly the perfection of me- chanical movement ; whether equally favorable to the higher elements of the soldier may be questioned, but not that Prussia lives on the reputation of it, and seeks to rise again into a first-rate military power. Its policy is essentially preparation for war. From the age of twenty to twenty-three every man is necessarily a soldier, though if engaged in a profes- sion he may get off with one year's actual service, but for this last there can be neither substitute nor excuse. Its military system, too, is so effective that within ten days the whole military population of the kingdom can be equipped, armed, and brought into the field Friday, August 27. — Heidelberg. — Arriving here about noon, I proceeded immediately to deliver my letter of introduction to Professor Schlosser of the university, and one of its most eminent teachers. Not finding him at home, I groped my way in Ger- man to the university, and in it to the great hall, where a dignitary from his lofty cathedra was trying the competency of a " Professeur Suppl^mentaire," in the department of History. When over, I found the examiner to be Professor Schlosser himself, and with him, polite and friendly, have passed the greater part of the day^ THE CONTINENT. 191 The professors hold themselves high in this uni- versity, on the score of liberal principles, looking with contempt on Austi'ia and all its schools. On my asking about Frederick Schlegel, — "Ah," said he, " il est mort," — he is gone to Austria. To his brother William, at Bonn, he has furnished me with a letter through Niebuhr the historian. While fresh in my memory, I will add a few notes of what I saw in the university. In no lecture-room were there more than twenty-five students, seated at forms, shab- bily arranged and scribbled over with names and pictures, chiefly of college duels, etc. When the professor enters, the students, being all seated, neither rise nor show any mark of respect. He lectures standing, beginning immediately with a good deal of action, each student with pen, ink, and paper before him. The professor opens by laying down very slowly and distinctly, reading from his notes, the general propositions of his lecture, and then proceeds, in order, to unfold and prove them. The outline each student takes down verbatim^ to the rest he listens and takes notes. In no room did I see idle- ness or irregularity, but constant attention and per- fect silence, and this not the result of discipline, of which there is none, — no roll-call, no examination, and even for a degree but one, and that not aca- demic but by government officials. The degree is a legal requisite in every profession, and for that end valued ; but still out of the eight hundred Hei- . delberg students not one tenth take it, the rest re- ceiving merely a certificate from such individual 192 LIFE OF JOHN W^VICKAR. professors as the student selects. The number of professors is about thirty-five, and, including supple- mental, about sixty. Salaries in value from fifty to two thousand dollars. I still prefer the English sys- tem, and have seen nothing yet to rival Oxford. Saturday Night, August 28. — Baden-Baden. — . . . . The roads are all excellent, macadamized, made or making, with heaps of the ready-made ma- terial at the sides. Around these the bright-flowering toad-flax finds shelter, driven from the fields on to the roads, having been our constant companion through England, Wales, Scotland, and thus far on the Continent. The name of " Macadam " bids fair to rival that of Napoleon here. The usual answer to our inquiry as to roads, is, " Bonnes, toutes Mac- adam." The State of Baden, in which we are, is both the largest and best governed of the small principalities, and prospering beyond the largest. The villages, which in Prussia are cramped and filthy, are here neat, open, and picturesque. The peasantry are not only comfortable but rich, the land divided and worked by the owners. The reigning family is Protestant, but the peasantry generally of the Romish faith. This being the king's birthday, he holds court at Baden and crowns the day with a grand ball, and we have stayed to see it. I pass over the enormous public rooms and the unlimited circles of waltzers and musicians, to speak of that which was altogether new to me, the desper- ate scenes of gambling. There was something awfiil in the aspect of the players and the dread silence THE CONTINENT. 193 which prevailed, with every eye fixed on the turn of chance, and the various heaps of gold on the table waiting the decision, and above all the rapidity with, which the croupier, with his long-handled rake,, every few minutes, swept the whole into some unseen, pocket. Peasants and princes were freely mixed, and, to my surprise, among them our new courier, in, a full suit of black, who, stepping up to the table' alongside of Prince Lichenstein, laid down upon it a. piece of gold, turning to me and saying, " Master,, that is for you." This startled me into my propriety,, and directing him to take it up, I turned upon my heel and quitted the rooms. . . . . Our dinner was more interesting than^ usual. After a long conversation with my German neighbor, I found I was conversing with an author and brother professor, Dr. Rotteck, Professor of Natural and Political Law in the University of Frei.- burg. Beyond him at the table sat Tieck, the Wal- ter Scott of Germany. After dinner, being intro- duced, I had with him much interesting conversation,; we hope to meet him again in Switzerland. Our ride this evening was under the shadow of the Black Forest and the Hartz Mountains, where we beheld, with proper awe, frowning from one of its summits, the fastness of the last of its robber heroes. In the cultivated fields we here met for the first time an old American friend, the pumpkin, showing his yellow face amid the corn. Monday, August 30. — After an early breakfast at Kehl we engaged a carriage for Strasbourg,.crossing. 13 194 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. the Rhine into France for the day. To avoid cus- tom-house delays we left our carriage and baggage, and armed ourselves only with passports and courier. The latter seems at home wherever he goes, and to- day quite surprised us by appearing in a new role. As we approached the frontier, taking from his pocket two Revolutionary cockades, and fixing one in his cap, he handed the other to me, saying, " Master, please attach this to your dress." On my refusal, he said, " You will not be safe without it." To my re- ply, " You are my courier, wear it ; that is suflScient," he answered again, " But I have to ask you to excuse me for the day, and take a valet de place, as I find that the commandant at Strasbourg was my colonel at Waterloo, and it is my duty to call on him." We now crossed the Rhine on its famous bridge of boats, entering for the first time the territory of revolution- ary France. As forewarned, all was bristling with war. To the numerous challenges of sentinels, our courier proved the sufficient passport, but all were under arms, and the tricolor flag floated everywhere, and the tricolor cockade was in every cap ; from the peasant at his work in the fields, to the dirty gamin in the streets, all wore the national badge, and scarce a window was without its little flag. I still, however, trusted to " Je suis Am^ricain," and, on reaching our •inn, left free our courier in exchange for a valet. . . . . The university or college was visited, with its solitary Protestant theology, where Professor Hepp, on whom I called, received me with the greatest kindness, and furnished me with all the information THE CONTINENT. 195 I desired. Our courier reported himself at last, and we proceeded on our return. On questioning him as to a splendid pendant he was wearing, he replied, that on visitino; his colonel he had directed him at once to resume the Cross of the Legion of Honor, which Napoleon had himself given him, and which, up to this time, he had worn secretly Thursday, September 2. — Zurich. — .... After dinner, the brothers Pestalozzi, so famous for their schools, called on us and accompanied us to the chief points of interest in and about the city. How I envy such old cities their contiguity to the retirement and beauty of the country, unknown to our ever-build- ing, never-finished towns. The Pestalozzi say that, amid all their in-door labors, they find time for daily country walks. On hiquiry into the present state of Switzerland, I find here, as elsewhere. Napoleon's rule was felt as a blessing-, and the loss of it lamented. Their great national evil was, and is, want of power in their confederation. The pacification of Napoleon corrected this for a time, and now all sensible Swiss feel the want, and vainly seek a remedy. To help them to it, I have pressed in conversation our revo- lutionary experience — the futility of our old " Con- federation " and the blessings of our present " Union." Sunday Night, September 4. — Top of the Righi. — Wakened this morning at the hospice amid the bowlings of the Alpine storm. We looked out, but we were in the clouds ; earth there was none, and the loaded chalet was like a boat rocking in the storm. 196 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. About eleven o'clock it cleared somewhat, and as the view opened it was something beyond the power of words to paint. There seemed a bright world spread out before us, alternately closed and seen, as the cloud in which we were enveloped, like a great curtain raised or slit, gave us glimpses sharp and clear of the scene below us. The view from the edge of the cliff is not only splendid but unique. Righi, as being a spur of the Alps, jutting out into level Switzerland in the circle of its many lakes, unites in one view all its beauties. Mountains, lakes, towns, and cultivated fields, all are under your eye. On the north you look over its richest portion, even to the Hartz Moun- tains and the Black Forest of Germany. On the south you gaze on the ramparts of eternal snow and the glaciers of the higher Alps, which even at this distance glow so brightly that it seems as if you could touch them with your outstretched hand, while all around you lie lakes and villages innumerable, now brilliant with the setting sun, and its magnificent pur- ple tints Berne, Saturday, September 11. — This has been a day of real travel. We left Interlaken at six in the morning, having engaged a boat the evening be- fore for our especial party. Just as our boat pushed off I noticed our boatman turn away two soldiers whom I had seen hurrying down in hope of a pas- sage ; I called after them and took them in. They proved to be two Swiss of the regiment that had suf- fered most in the late " three days " at Paris, and were now returning to their homes at Meyringen for THE CONTINENT. 197 the first time after an absence, one of fourteen, the other of eighteen years. Their regiment had been literally cut to pieces, mainly through the fury of the populace excited by the cruel pertinacity of their commander, Count de Salis. A summons of surren- der being sent to him, he ordered the messenger to be thrown from the third story window. The massa- cre of fifteen hundred was the revenge. I was glad to help these poor survivors to their home. The Swiss are a home-loving people. Of this the crew of our barge is a sample. The old father and mother row one oar ; the eldest son another ; the daughter, aided by her little brother, a third ; while the young- est, a sickly girl, reposes on a bench by their side. The gay head-dresses accord strangely with the hard work, the old mother's face being almost covered by the deep lace hanging down from her black velvet caj) — and such figures we see repeatedly behind wheelbarrows and wash-tubs To while away the time of a rather long voyage, I entered into talk with our courier, Felix, about his great patron, Metternich, on whose recommendation I had taken him. The orio-in of the name was a title of honor. The family name was Metter. His grand- father was in the last unfortunate battle with the Turks, when the emperor, being told that all fled, replied, ' Metter nich,' — a Metter never fled, — hence the name. The Prince Metternich, he says, is of small stature, quick of temper, yet mild. He has suffered much from domestic misfortune. Wife and children all gone, he is left alone, and busies himself, 198 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. not in solitude, but in the turmoils of a busy official life. Thus has he placed himself at the head of the diplomats of Europe, and become almost an arbiter in the affairs of the Continent Monday, September 13. — Giez. — At last at the ancient mansion of the DeRham family, where we have been received with a warmth of kindness be- yond all claim. Perfect home in all but our native tongue, though kind hearts at once made our bad French good. The house itself is extensive and irregular, of various dates and styles, but uniting together the comforts and conveniences of all. The grounds are beautiful by nature, and improved in English taste and in the neatest order, while the view around is a perfect panorama of Alps from the Righi to Mont Blanc Mr. and Mrs. Huber, their highly interesting neighbors, joined us at dinner. Talking of Pestalozzi, we found he was of this imme- diate neighborhood, and more than one of this family his early pupils. Like most warm-hearted enthusiasts in education, the novelty of his system once passed, its influence was gone, and an old age of chagrin and disappointment awaited one of the most benevolent of men. His school began in the voluntary and unpaid charge of the orphans made by the French invasion of the Canton of Unterwalden. It contin- ued in the same spirit and in such success in its edu- cational system of teaching " things " rather than " words," that his fame extended throughout Europe, drawing scholars from every quarter. In early age his system was very effective, but failed when Ian- THE CONTINENT. 199 guages were to he tauglit, and sciences founded upon languages and symbolic signs ; so that from his school came forth many good citizens but no superior men. Its reputation is, however, renewed by Fel- lenburg, whom we visited at Berne, a more practi- cal, but less attractive man, though marked by ready talent and great ingenuity of means. The cost of the unpaid school, a large one, is more than met by the labor of the scholars, while the pay school is sustained by its foreign reputation, chiefly from England and Prussia. Its chief influence is on character, encour- aging independence up near to the limit of insubor- dination. Vocal music is much looked to for its moral and moderating power. But enough of education. Having noticed in our drives many mountain streams bridgeless and impassable, because of the nar- row span to which they are confined in their wooden bridges, limited by the lengtli of a single timber, I suggested the recent patent of " triangulation " of timbers as givino- stiffness and almost unlimited length to a bridge made of ordinary plank. Mr. DeRham appeared greatly struck with the importance of its application here, and, at his request, I prepared a card model exhibiting it. Thursday, September 16. — Lausanne. — Before parting with our kind friends we drove together to the Rubers', as we had promised, and found them both busy in preparing some little memorials for us. I had much talk with Mr. Huber touching his favor- ite insects, the ants, and his father's rival, the bees. The elder Huber lost his sight while still engaged in 200 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. his observations, and completed them through the eyes of a faithful attendant, and with his wife as an amanuensis. Mr. Huber is a man of great simplicity, both of manners and character, but withal a thorough enthusiast. On asking him rather in badinage, which of the two, bees or ants, he regarded the wisest, his answer I felt as a reproof to my levity. " Equally wise," said he, " in the higher sense of instincts, equally fitted to their respective conditions, but I find the condition of the ants most analogous to that of man. In the instinct of the bee," he said, " there was a certain finesse of governnient and intercourse far beyond that of man, but in that of the ants he found what he would term the perfection of human society. It was the perfection of order and self-government. He could never discern that any order was given, but each one knew his place and duty, and of him- self fulfilled it. It was, in short, the model of a per- fect republic." Here we took a final leave of our kind friends and Swiss home, and were again on the wide world. Stopping at a village to rest our horses, I wandered into a blacksmith's shop where two men were en- gaged in setting a horse's shoe. I ventured to in- struct them in our simpler method of a single operator. They first doubted, then admired, and finally ended with preferring their own fashion. Arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon at Lausanne and its beautiful lake. Having some letters I sent them off by our courier, with cards. At dinner, met a con- versible Englishman, rara avis, one neither too proud THE CONTINENT. 201 nor too suspicious to converse with strangers. After dinner, took a stroll to the public promenade, over- looking the lake, and on returning to our hotel met a gentleman just retiring from the door with a card in his hand. A glance showed me that it was my own, and the bearer of it, on my addressing Wm, proved to be M. Kock, son of our banker at Frankfort. He greeted us with great warmth, saying they had been on the lookout for us for the month past. He im- mediately became our guide and host for the remain- der of the day, reminding me of the words of Huber on parting, that, for pleasant and instructive travel, one must pass " not from auherge to auherge, but from man to man." Among the pleasant incidents of our walk with our conductor, was a visit to the Archery Club, a beautiful terrace overlooking the lake, with appropriate buildings. On asking M. Kock, one of the wealthiest and busiest bankers of the city, whether he ever practiced with the bow, in answer, he drew from his waistcoat pocket a small key, and opening one of the numerous little cabinets, exhibited all his outfit as an archer, saying at the same time, " This is my daily exercise and amusement, and equally so with my friends." How I envied for my countrymen and friends in business such wise recre- ation from the slavery of " Rem facias rem," the unending toil for wealth, ruinous alike to heart and head, to the enjoyment of home and the true hap- piness of life. As I remember Captain Basil Hall saying to me of New York, " I see many here who know how to make wealth, but few who know how to enjoy it." 202 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Sunday^ Septemher 19. — Hospice. — Summit of the Great St. Bernard, 7,668 feet above the level of the sea, truly a day of rest and religious thankful- ness, after the toils of yesterday. After an early cup of coffee, mules and guides, a trusty one for each, having been over night provided for by our faithful Felix, at six o'clock we set forth cheered by a bright sun peeping over the mountains and the vivas of the crowd of gazers. The " Hospice " was not as yet within our thoughts ; we were considered too late in the season for that ; our only doubt being between the Col de Balme and the Tete-Noir, the mountain passes, leading to the Vale of Cha- mouni, at the foot of Mont Blanc. But as we pro- ceeded our courage rose under the influence of strong desire and the fair day, and when choice had to be made, I called a council of our guides and asked their judgment. On the first point they were unanimous, " No storm to-day ; " as to the second, " It was not their part to say." So on we went, with good cour- age and cheerful hearts, though saddened by the frequent mementoes of desolation from the great mountain torrent of twelve years ago, arising from the breaking away of a mountain lake through its icy barriers. Of the village of Martigny, three fourths were swept away. The stone house in which we slept last night bore the inscription and mark of fifteen feet submerged, and our present path carried us over the ruins of three or four villages it had totally destroyed. The story is even now on every tongue, and our guides tell of it as a thing of yester- THE CONTINENT. 203 day. It occurred about four o'clock in the afternoon on the 18th of June, 1818. The danger being fore- seen and inevitable, every precaution was taken for its early notice. For a long time watchmen were sta- tioned on the intervenino; heights and beacon fires prepared to give the alarm, but all proved fruitless. Within forty-five minutes it swept the valley for thirty-seven miles, carrying everything before it. In one village but one person escaped, a young woman, still living, who was carried oflp by the flood and thrown ashore some distance below. While sympa- thizing Avith this distant peril, a nearer one came be- fore us, in the narrative of two young Englishmen, perishing on Monday last, on the mountain before us, caught in one of the temfic snow-storms of the Alps. But our own case now pressed upon us. Our fair morning was gone, changed first to heavy clouds, then to settled rain. The half-way village was passed, a perilous bridge, and the Rock Gallery, with a thousand feet of rock above us, when the rain came down in torrents, and the thunder rebellowed through the mountains with vivid flashes of lightning. Meeting a traveller descending, our guides questioned him with eagerness, whether it was snow above. The answer, " Rain," was cheering, though our path was growing more and more Alpine. On reaching a group of rude huts, our guides counseled prudence, and ad- vised us to stop. It was our last choice, but on ex- amination, their filth conquered fear, and our word was " Go on." This they obeyed unwillingly, though prompted by larger pay. The only other work of 204 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. man we encountered in our mountain path was the " Dead House," a low cavernous erection in the snow filled with the frozen corpses of lost travellers ; but by the mercies of God we escaped that fate, and at length reached the long desired sight of the Hospice, calling into our eyes tears of joy and thankfulness. A bright gleam of the setting sun cheered our en- trance into the' dark but blessed shelter. Not often has even this Hospice received more willing guests. We had been nine hours on our mules without rest- ing, and never before had any of us travelled in such severity of weather. But its ever open doors had now received us, a fire in the room appropriated to strangers soon made us comfortable, and the kindness and agreeable conversation of the two " fathers " who received us, made us quickly forget our perils and exertions. The two fathers were our enter- tainers, the Prieur, Claushal, head of the house, and the Sous-prieur, Prevot, a younger man of most pre- possessing manners and conversation. From him we received double attention, from the accidental dis- covery, through a beautiful sketch of Sir Robert Inglis' seat at Clapham, that our chief English friends were his correspondents, and had recently sent him that picture, done by Sir Robert's niece after their late visit to the Hospice. Both these fathers I find to be educated scholars, and, in the best sense, men of the world, from their living familiarly with educated and liberal men of every nation during their frequent visits here. Sunday. — After yesterday's fatigue, and a com- THE CONTINENT. 205 fortable night's rest, we rose early to behold the tem- pest of snow we had so narrowly and providentially escaped. The dogs and men have been out on search bringing in travellers, but mainly peasants from the Italian side. Their kind fi'iends, the dogs, were all around us, large, sagacious, for centuries a peculiar breed, — a cross, it is said, between the great Danish dog and the native dog of the Alps, trained to gen- tleness, but on needful occasion capable of great fierceness, as was instanced some years since in sav- ing the Hospice from a band of robbers, who, ad- mitted as suffering travellers, at dead of night, and demanding admission to the treasure room, w^ere ad- mitted to the dog-kennel instead, and in an instant every robber had a dog at his throat, and his life at the mercy of an unarmed monk. But I turn to the Hospice itself, and the life to which it calls its votaries. In the first place it is the highest spot in- habited by man on the Continent of Europe, perhaps of the Old World, where all vegetation has ceased, winter three fourths of the year, the thermom- eter often at zero in the summer, and in winter often at twenty-five below it. The number of the professed is unlimited, but in fact seldom exceeds thirty, of whom from ten to twelve occupy this station, the remainder at their lower homes, or engaged in travel, and gathering alms for the Hospice, an ever open inn, without charge beyond the voluntary con- tribution of visitors. On Sunday last four new " ap- plicants " presented themselves. Their course is one year's " novitiate " free, and then the threefold vow 206 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. of poverty, obedience, and celibacy, taken irrevocably. Ten years' residence at the Hospice is then expected, — as long as most can stand, though two of the present number have exceeded twenty. The older and bet- ter educated have among their benevolent labors the training and instruction of the younger. At half past four o'clock this morning we were awakened by the matin bell, and hastily dressing and groping our way through the long dark corridors at a freezing temperature, we reached the chapel door, guided by chanting voices and the glimmer of the light within. On opening the door we found ourselves alone in the gallery of a small but beautiful chapel richly adorned and brilliantly lighted. The music of the organ and choir, the splendid dresses of the celebrant, all contributed to form a scene as of magic in those frozen solitudes, and deeply affecting to our better feelings. Not neglecting our own de- votions, we again attended high mass at ten o'clock and vespers at five. The intermediate time was spent chiefly in their museum, where I lighted on a specimen from the neighborhood, evidently of an- thracite coal. This led to some instruction as to the means of using it as fuel, which delighted them, as their only resource is a scanty supply of little sticks brought up the mountain on the back of mules, a distance of nine leagues. A few minutes sufficed to draft a flue capable, I trust, of igniting and using it. In the course of the day, the storm having ceased, I visited the neighboring " Morgue," a low stOne erection, buried in snow, where the frozen dead are THE CONTINENT. 207 deposited. Its only door is opened but for their reception, while its only window, low and grated, affords the ghastly view of frozen humanity, ranged around the walls in all the varying attitudes in which death had seized them, some deeply affecting. Among them was a mother with a child still clasped to her breast. The bodies of all uncorrupt through extreme cold, but gradually passing into the state of mummies. From this sight I gladly turned to the historical mementoes by which I was surrounded. This "pass" over the Alps was known to the Romans in their far-reaching arms, and was probably the one by which Hannibal crossed. The remains of a tem- ple of Jupiter are still traceable, and coins and votive offerings are found among them. Among these was one for a safe return from the perils of the summit, which brought to mind the thank-offering we hope to make on the morrow for our safe descent from the same. Monday Evening., September 20. — Martigny. — Safely down from the mountain. Awakened this morning at the Hospice before day by the early matin bell, and soon after still more thoroughly by the pealing organ, which in these frozen solitudes sounds like enchantment. We rose and attended for the last time services in which the Roman ritual appears in its most attractive form. A bright sun soon illumined the peaks of ice around, and tempted me again to the little lake lying at the foot of the* Hospice where a stone column marks the boundary line of Italy, carrying off from it a fragment of a 208 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. Roman brick in memory of my invasion. It is with feelings of regret too strong for expression that I here turn my back upon Italy. But time limited and duty, forbid. After a mountain breakfast and warm adieu to all, accompanied by one of our kind hosts, M. Barras, who insisted on seeing us safe down, we set out on our descent, which, from its perilous nature had to be made on foot, our mules led by the guides. After descending about two leagues destitute of vegetable life, we entered on the region of Arctic growth, — larch, fir, and other evergreens ; thence descending to the fruit-bearing trees, we found first the cherry, then the apple. It is pleasing to notice how natu- rally the mind seems turned to piety in these peril- ous regions. Scarce a habitation for man appeared without some words of pious thought carved in stone over the door, an ever present memento, as, " La Volont^ de Dieu soit faite ; " "Dieu soit benin;" and on an overarching rock among the crags, a place of shelter from sudden tempest, I noticed, " L'Eter- nel est mon Rocher." As we proceeded, our com- panion from the Hospice was warmly greeted by every peasant we met, and had in return for each some word of kindness. It was a whole year since he had been down or seen aught but ice and barren rock, and as we approached the green fields he ob- served that the feelings awakened by the sight are I such as none but a monk of the Hospice can conceive. At the hamlet of Lydde, having seen us through our dangers, and partaken of our dinner, we parted j he THE CONTINENT. 209 returnins: to his mountain home, we to our renewed journey, to meet perhaps with older but not warmer friends Such are some of the perils that hedge round the ascent of the Great St. Bernard, but they are not always from the raging elements. Napoleon, in his celebrated ascent in 1800 with all his troops, twice incurred greater risk of life than in all his subsequent battles. Once, from his obstinacy in persisting to ride his war-horse where none but mules could step with safety, being precipitated from a cliff where the horse was killed and the rider only saved by the strono; arm of a guide. The second imminent risk was from the enemy. On approaching the summit of the pass, accompanied by two officers, he pre- ceded the march of his advanced guard so far that on a sudden turn among the cliffs he found himself in the face of a small picket-guard of Austrians. They receiving no satisfactory answer to their chal- lenge, leveled their muskets awaiting the word " Fire." Their officer, however, not dreaming of the probability of a French force ascending a path where a mule could scarce find footing, checked them, and advancing claimed them as his prisoners. Napoleon, unmarked by dress, and unknown, without a direct answer, began in his rapid way some unimportant questions, engaging the officer's attention until by a glance of his eye perceiving the approach of his own troops he turned quickly to the young Austrian and said, " Sir, five minutes ago I was your prisoner, now you are mine ; this is the First Division of the 14 210 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Grand Army of France, and I am its commander." This was told me on the spot where it was said to have taken place Geneva, Monday^ September 27. — This day has been one of the highest interest through the letters of Mr. Gallatin, of New York, to his family here, his cousin being the present Syndic of this little repub- lic. My early hours were given up to literary guid- ance. Dr. CandoUes introducing me into the literary circle or club of Geneva, which is at present the school of philosophic thinkers for Europe. Sismondi, unfortunately, was absent. Their present subject of zealous benevolence is the penitentiary system, trying it themselves and recommending it to others. Du- mont, the banker, bears the expense. I was called upon to unfold our system. Their present problem is its introduction into France, in whose revolutionary affairs they take great interest. The Syndic has summoned for this very day their great Council, — two hundred and sixty deputies, representing sixty thousand inhabitants, — to deliberate on the present relations with France, and the expediency of recog- nizing Louis Philippe as its sovereign. To this solemn meeting I was invited by Syndic Gallatin. We ascended to the third story of the great square tower, from whose windows the whole national domain is visible, and that by a stairway as peculiar as the surroundings, being a paved road winding around an inner tower for the convenience of horse- back which was the official mode of ascent. I was admitted into the Council, though against rule, the THE CONTINENT. 211 committee on the recognition not having yet made their report. On their entering I retired, and in a few minutes all was settled, the House concurred, Louis Philippe was acknowledged, and the word passed out "No war with France." Among the aristocratic peculiarities of Geneva I mention one. It is the existence in all the old fami- lies, running back many hundred years, of a common treasury or fund, bearing the family name, growing with the contributions of many generations, to pre- serve the name from the disgrace of penury, a family council in annual meeting hearing and answering claims. Among those family treasuries, that of the Gallatins, dating back some three hundred years, is among the largest. In an ancestral republic like that of Geneva and in a home-loving people like the Swiss, it has proved to be a wise, patriotic, and benevolent institution. Breaking away with difficulty from such scenes and such intercourse I returned to our hotel, finding there several friends, among others the Count de Sellon, with some dispatches to be intrusted to my care for Lafayette in Paris and Mr. Gallatin at home. After dinner, arrangino; our carriage for three horses to drive abreast, French fashion, we set off. The road along the lake shore was beautiful almost beyond imagination ; . around us was an all-placid loveliness ; on our right Mont Blanc in the distance, with its surrounding glaciers brilliant with the setting sun, and on our left the dark mountains of Jura. 212 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Upon the ascent of these we shortly after entered, night closing upon us in savage solitude, but with a brilliant moon to light us. About midnight, we reached our welcome inn, standing alone on the very summit of the Jura. CHAPTER XIV. PARIS SOCIETY AFTER THE THREE DAYS : 1830. IjlRIDAY night, October 1, finds us in Paris, at -^ the "HStel Britannique," in a suite of rooms that would elsewhere be esteemed splendid. Last night we passed in our carriage, posting at a rapid rate all night. We have had four days' and two nights' hard driving from Geneva, the most dull, uninteresting country I ever passed through. One little incident varied its monotony and for a time awakened alarm. As we approached the outer environs of Paris, through a desolate tract covered with a wild growth of underwood, we encountered groups of ill-looking fellows prowling around, looking, as they said, for work : driven out of Paris, was their story, for firing on the people in the late revolution. While con- gratulating ourselves at having passed safely through these, we found ourselves suddenly surrounded by a body of men, armed to the teeth, to the number of at least a hundred, springing forth from the wild copsewood through which we were passing and where they had lain hidden, surrounding our carriage and seizing our postilions, for with our heavy carriage we were posting with four horses, and demanding our passports. On these being shown to the com* 214 LIFE OF JOHN MCVWKAR. mander of the party, he explained that they were awaiting in concealment the arrival of the first load of the Algerine treasure that day expected to arrive, and to guai'd it through this dangerous pass and be- yond the Faubourg St. Antoine. The groups we had previously met, he informed us, were dangerous men on their way to their place of exile, the Island of Corsica Attended this morning the levee of the Hon. Mrs. Rives, wife of our minister. Among others we there met our old friend Cooper, the novelist, travelling in search of a revolution, though unfortunate in point of time, complaining to me that Dresden broke out the day after he left it, and Paris finished the day before he reached it. I comforted him with my fears that the volcano, though quiet, was still boiling within. Another visit of more than ordinary interest was to the Due de Broglie, in his family as well as official hotel. Its arrangements partook of both, sofas and work tables at one fire-place of the grand salon, business, papers, etc., at the other, and before leaving I found that the duchess was equally at home at both. On entering she rose and received me with great kindness, for my letter was from an intimate friend in England. The difke soon joined us, his manners wanting the prestige of the old noblesse, an air of doubt, like one supported on bladders. After many inquiries about his fi'iends in England, an official message being brought to him to attend council, he rose and, apologizing, was about parting, when in answer to my casual wish expressed PARIS SOCIETY. 215 to visit the Chamber of Deputies in session, I found by his answer that it was a privilege rarely granted in those unsettled times. On consulting his wife, he answered that I certainly should be admitted, but he could not at once name the day. Subsequently, at the termination of a most agreeable visit, the duchess added that she would send me an order for admission the day afler to-morrow. On mentioning this act of courtesy to our minister, Mr. Rives, he observed that it was a privilege hard to obtain. The approaching trial of Polignac and the other ministers of the late king, is looked forward to with apprehension. Speak- ing of Charles X., he said he was in manner the perfect gentleman, and a good man and honest, seek- ing only what he believed to be for the good of his people. I asked if he could say as much for Po- lignac ; he replied that, though blinded he was sincere, devotedly attached to his master, v.^hom he termed "the best of men," honestly believing that increase of the royal power was essential to the peace of France and hence of Europe. Dined at home and then to our evening engage- ment at the Marquis de Lafayette's, " le premier Homme de France." He looks younger than when in America, and now, at the age of seventy-three, passes through all the labors of an arduous office without seeming to feel it, and with manners alike courteous and kind ; towards Americans markedly so. As an instance, in the midst of the revolution, he broke oflF from absorbing engagements for an hour to attend the marriage of Miss S to young 216 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. Irving, having given her his promise to be there, and to us he proffers all that kindness and influence can bestow. Among the notabilities present. General Gourgaud was to me particularly interesting in rela- tion to recent events and the course taken by La Fay- ette, towards whom there seems one united feeling of admiration for both his firmness and moderation. " France a republic and himself at the head " rested on his word, but he chose prudently as well as honorably, and, as it was said to me last night, " like the sun, shows grandest in going down." Returning to our hotel, we found cards with a note from the Duchess de Broglie, inclosing an order for the House of Deputies. Thursday, October 7. — The Assembly holds its meetings in the large but not splendid building oppo- site the bridge of Louis XVI. On presenting my ticket I was admitted into what seemed a box in a theatre, a resemblance running throughout the whole house. After an hour's delay the president took his seat on his central elevated tribune, the members gradually assuming their respective seats. The first question under debate was one of finance. That disposed of, the more interesting resolution of M. Tracy, abolishing the punishment of death, came up, doubly exciting under its immediate bearing on the unfortunate ministers of Charles X. It was intro- duced in a very ably written speech by M. Beran- ger, to which all listened with the silent attention given to a popular lecturer. When a member is speaking there is perfect silence, but after he is fin- - PARIS SOCIETY. 217 ished great disorder prevails and it requires often five or ten minutes of the president's bell to restore order. The bell, by the way, is a very poor instru- ment for enforcing silence, and evidently annoys the president more than the members. Again, the neces- sity of a member quitting his seat and hurrying to the tribune is exceedingly awkward, and to an English or American speaker would be a great "damper." Not so with the Frenchman; he rushes to it as if bursting with enthusiasm, but on reaching it, his words are calm and collected, and, so far as I have observed, less passionate and more to the point than I have ever heard in a popular assembly, sel- dom more than from five to fifteen minutes in length. Nor is this because of being written, the good sense was evidently extempore, the truisms and rhetoric penned down. The day has been to me an exciting one, and I have listened for five hours without weari- ness to the revolutionary orators of the " three days " in Paris. Monday^ October 11. — After a morning spent in business arrangements, three o'clock found me at the palace of the Institute, by invitation, to attend a special meeting of the 'French Academy, to receive Humboldt on his return from the Himalayas. But unfortunately, it seemed, I was too late for admission, as appeared frohi a formal printed notice upon the closed doors of the splendid library in which their sessions are held. But while bemoaning my misfor- tune and despairing of relief, I was attracted to a second framed notice wherein I found my own name 218 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAE. excepted from the rule under order of the president as having letters of introduction to him. I was accordingly formally ushered in through a crowd of external listeners to a chair within the inner circle of members, and near the table of the president. The paper under reading was the report upon a scientific question of a previous meeting. On the president's elevated tribune sat also three vice-presidents, among them Baron Cuvier. The next paper was a highly scientific one, " On the Motion of Bodies in Elastic Fluids." This was referred to a member for a special oral report. The next awakened more interest. A member approached the table with a manuscript of ominous bulk, which he began but did not finish without interruption. This arose through the con- troversy it excited with Baron Cuvier, whose teach- ing and facts were alike denied and rejected on the same subject, — the crocodile and its anatomy, — in a manner so offensive as to call for immediate rebuke. When finished, Cuvier, speaking from his seat, com- plained in strong yet gentlemanly terms of both the mode and measure of the attack. Rousing himself from his almost lethargic look with his head sinking between his shoulders, he spoke both courteously and forcibly. This brought from St. Hilaire a passionate rejoinder, when Cuvier terminated the discussion by a solemn pledge to the Academy of full proof at its next meeting. Humboldt now came forward, presenting to the Academy, in the name of their respective authors, PARIS SOCIETY. 219 papers and books of foreign associates, and then opened upon the great interest of the evening, a rapid resume of his researches and travels in the Himalaya range, just completed under the patron- age of the Emperor of Russia. Hmnboldt's look is that of a true scientific traveller, somewhat weather- beaten, middle size, firm knit, hair gray, passing on to white, with a kindly expression, equal to a letter of introduction wherever he goes. He spoke with great modesty, assigning the chief merit of the re- sults of his journey to his philosophic companions, Ehrenborg of Gei'many, and M. Rodd. The reading of two more papers closed the seance, marked, I thought, both by more exact science than what I had heard in the Royal Society in London, and infinitely greater interest on the part both of members and of the public. After the sSance the president introduced me generally to members, but especially to Barons Cuvier and Humboldt, Avith both of whom, more especially the latter, whose Eng- lish was somewhat better than my French, I had much interesting talk After dinner, about eight o'clock, my wife and myself found ourselves en route for the Duchess de Broglie, to whom we had promised a visit en famille, and found her truly so, as domestic in her occupation and pleasures as if she were neither a duchess nor a prime minister's lady, surrounded by her children, all young, engaged in their usual studies or amvTsements. We found her alike lovely and interesting. As a daughter of Madame de Stael, ^20 LIFE OF JOHN MCVTCKAR. literature and intercourse with literary men has been her natural inheritance, but softened and sanctified, as her mother was not, by a Christian faith and a Christian spirit, giving to her whole character a life, a purity, and gentleness particularly attractive, and such as in French society of the present age is sel- dom found. Such is the impress of religion on her life that she is often sneered at as a "M^thodiste." Among the subjects that brought forth her feelings was my incidental mention of Erskine of Edinburgh, who I found was her frequent correspondent. Of him she spoke, as I myself feel, with equal admira- tion for his talents and piety, and pity and apprehen- sion for his deepening trials. Our earnest talk was broken in upon- by a political visit of the Count de Bastard, a relative of the Prince de Polignac, whose case and probable fate awakens deep sympathy. The earnest persuasive influence of a Christian lady in high station was here appealed to, and not, it seemed, in vain. Tuesday, 12th. — Busy until one. Then drove to the " Caf^ de la R^gence," where, in New York Maelzel had told me I should meet all the great chess-players of Paris. On entering, I found silence, and chess-tables filled. An old Jew with a clear eye ibut trembling hand, was pointed out as one of the ce- lebrities. I sat and watched his game rapidly played, won, and repeated. Opening always the same, losing his K.'sB.'s pawn, moving out his K.'s bishop and knight and immediately casthng. After the games I entered into conversation with him, and mentioning PARIS SOCIETY. 221 Maelzel as my introducer, inquired who played his automaton in Paris. As to Maelzel himself he said, " II n'a point de force, c'dtoit moi, qui jouoit ici son automat^." I replied, " Alors c'etoit das la Boite." His mumbling answer I could not hear beyond the word " ridicule." He declined a game with me, but offered for another day. On returninj; home I found an invitation from M. Julien, for his great monthly dinner to-day, at which I should meet the chief literati of Paris, and some strangers of note. Immediately accepting, I went accordingly, and in the great reception rooms met; my host and his rapidly assembling guests. Among, them several of the Academicians, Girard the pres- ident, and my pugnacious friend, M. St. Hilaire, who seemed somewhat ashamed of his attack on Cuivier.. Passing in to the salle a manger, as most of the guests did before dinner, I found it formally arranged with a card at every plate for perhaps sixty ; our host at the centre of the long line, where he pointed out to me my place, shifting my card so as to place me- next to himself. While standing there waiting the summons, a free-spoken Englishman appi*oached, changed the cards back again, with a " Hallo ! who did this ? " I observed it was done by M. Julien himself in compliment to an American stranger. " Beg pardon," said he ; "I yield ; but called on as I am to speak under some perplexity, it would be very convenient to me to sit next the Chair." I then found that he was the celebrated " Silk Buckingham," just returned from his exile in the East, and looked to^ 222 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. as one of the great apostles of " Libert^, Egalite, et Fraternity," magical words, at the present time, throughout France and especially in Paris. His speech, or rather narrative of what he saw in the East, half French, half English, was still very effect- ive. As he passed through its once rich and verdant plains, and saw all now waste and worthless, he asked of himself, What had worked that change ? Had the skies withheld their influences, the earth its pro- ductive power, etc., etc. No ! Nor heaven nor earth, but man, — man has sunk. He has lost " Libert^." At this word every tongue was loosed. " Libert^ ! Libert^ ! " resounded through the hall. Buckingham's plan, for he had one, was to organize an expedition, benevolent in name, for rejuvenating the East, but political in its influences, tending to strengthen French influence in India, and give a blow to the English East India Company, who had sent him out of the country. With Buckingham I had much interesting talk — an innovator in education as well as govern- ment. His son, jvist grown up, was with him, trained in a school of self-government ; the scholars the leg- islators, judge, and jury, with a written code, and willing submission to it ; and this, according to his ac- count, working well, turning out both fair scholars and true gentlemen. Such was our dinner, the most spirited and diversified I ever was at. Politicians spoke, poets recited, inventors unfolded their im- provements, and invitations were given and accepted for new scenes of interest. At ten o'clock the dinner ended, and the " chiefs'" of the party adjourned to at- PARIS SOCIETY. 223 tend the levSe of the Marquis de Lafayette, the head of the mihtary power of France, and at present more the sovereign than Louis Philippe himself. It was a splendid reception. Not French military men alone were there, but those from other lands looking to France for example or aid. Among the marked figures was a noble looking young Pole in his national garb, now proscribed in Poland : a splendid dress, betokening rank ; a glittering diamond in massive setting worn on his right thumb, with a sad though dignified air, speaking to none, though observed by all, and unknown to all with whom I conversed ; a spectral image of their heroic past, and intended perhaps to awaken French enthusiasm for its resto- ration. Thursday^ l^th. — As I returned into town I re- membered my chess engagement and drove to the Cafe de la R^gence. My friend the Jew was not there, but I soon had pointed out to me Professor Boncone. On inquiring of what he was professor, I was told of chess ; that instruction in it was his busi- ness and living, and that he was the first player in Paris. I accordingly took my station by him, and subsequently played with him two games, both of which I lost. He stated that there was one abler than himself, though not now in Paris, — M. Labourdon- nais ; that the old Jew was named Alexander, a good player, but beginning to break ; and that he himself had played the Automaton for a long time and never been beaten, though he said an equal player would have beaten him from the distraction caused by the 224 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. mechanism. I observed to him, " You were not in the box then ? He answered, " Others less bound by honor may tell you ; I cannot. In France it is not much of a secret, but in your country I suppose it is otherwise." Saturday Evening. — Received a note from Gen- eral Lafayette as I was going out, proposing to in- troduce me at the palace to-morrow evening. Drove to the Due de Broglie's, who was at the Council, and the duchess out. The ministers have an anxious time of it. The people and the government are opposed in relation to the fate of Polignac and the ex-minis- ters, — the government anxious to save them, the mob of Paris prepared to rise en masse and murder them if ministers take a step for their safety. Nor the mob only ; one hundred and eighty thousand men of the National Guards have given notice that they cannot be depended upon if the late ministry be al- lowed to escape. In this emergency the Chambers, afraid to pass the bill for the abolition of the death punishment, have thrown the responsibility upon the king ; the ministry dare not act, and throw it back again ; so that even Lafayette acknowledges there is no chance of escape for these unfortunate men ; at least, for Polignac and Peyronnet, whose heads must answer for the blood of the people. Sunday Evening. — Just returned from my visit to the Palais Royal, where I was received in what we should call a cordial manner. Lafayette commands everywhere a homage which seems to know no bounds. The moment he was recognized as we de- PARIS SOCIETY. 225 scended from the carriage, his name was echoed by the crowd. As we passed up through the great ves- tibules, officers and soldiers pressed forward to address him, and at the levSe he divided attentions with the king. As introduced by him, the king received me with an air of kindness, and still more, it would seem, as an American. The queen said to me that he al- ways looked back with peculiar interest to his visit to America. The king speaks English passably well, as do all his family. It is, one of them said, a family accomplishment. He is very like his portraits ; full, large features, and a kind, good-humored expression. The queen is tall, rather pretty, with a very amiable look and manner. Mademoiselle Orleans, the king's unmarried sister, is also very pleasing, though without beauty. I persuaded her to try her English, which she said she had forgotten, and told her she must cultivate it as a bond of friendship between the two countries*. The young princess, whom Lafayette described as both beautiful and agreeable, was unwell and not present.. The eldest son, the Duke of Orleans, a young man of twenty-one, is as pleasing and intelligent and mod- est withal, as one could meet with in any station in life. On Lafayette's introduction, he addressed me in French, which I answered in Englisli, knowing that he spoke it perfectly well. His education has been a plain, good one, and his sentiments are manly and liberal. France has much to hope in him. The appearance and manner of the whole family have a domestic, simple character, which, from all I have heard, truly belongs to them. After almost an 15 226 LIFE OF JOHN M^'VICKAR. hour's conversation, a small private door was opened, through which they retired ; and after some time, finding the king did not return, which he generally does, the company retired also. On reaching the outer door, an inferior officer of the guard, whom I had before noticed, again addressed Lafayette with some expression of attachment. Lafayette turning to me said, " This is the officer who refused to arrest Manuel." He then called and introduced him, with which he seemed greatly pleased, especially when I told him I was an American, and had heard of it there. I have just found out that my host of the other evening, M. Julien, is no other than the celebrated Julien, private secretary of Robespierre, and the insti- gator of half his proscriptions London. — Saturday Morning. — The unsettled state of Paris and the short time that remains to us before sailing has been the cause of our sudden move. The state of Paris, before we left, was grave and alarming. On Sunday night, while we were at the king's levee, the Palais Royal was quite in tumult ; the next night a mob of six or eight thousand at- tempted to fire the Palace of the Luxembourg, and were only prevented by the doors being thrown open, and being satisfied that the ministers were not there Wednesday. — Having promised Miss Douglas to drop in in the course of the evening, drove there about eleven, and was introduced to Campbell the poet, who, after some pressing, gave us a recitation LONDON. 227 of part of " Julius Caesar." Campbell is a man of in- ferior interest to the other great poets we have met. He wants their simplicity as well as power. His con- versation, in short, is that of an ordinary man. Thursday. — My first visit, yesterday, was to the Royal Asiatic Society, to which Colonel Fitz-Clar- ence's name was a sufficient introduction. Here they paid me the compliment of getting me to designate four American libraries or institutions to which they would send their proceedings. Finding I was near Lord Stowell's, I stopped to leave my card, on part- ing, as a mark of respect and sympathy, for I had observed in the morning paper an expression of pub- lic feeling respecting the failing health of " the great and good Lord Stowell." On inquiry, I was told he saw none but his physicians, but on handing my card, the footman requested me to walk in till he should speak to his master. I complied, and was surprised to receive a message requesting me to see him. I found him still seated in his library, but un- able to rise from his chair ; he expressed very warmly his thanks for the interest I most sincerely felt, and his respect for our rising country. I sat near half an hour with him, for he seemed anxious to detain me. All he said was marked by kindness and a pe- culiar humility with regard to himself. As he told me, he is now eighty-five years old. Stopping at " Ridgway's " to return a book he had sent me, I found there Sir H. Parnell, just from Paris, where we left him collecting facts, and making him- self master of their system of financial accounts, 228 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. which is infinitely better, he tells me, than the Eng- lish. This book-store is the lounging-room of the reading members of Parliament, and the political pamphlets of the day cover the tables. Being in the city to-day, I stopped at the India House, to pay a visit to Mill, the economist. I here made the acquaintance of Dr. Husefield, the libra- rian, and visited the immense establishment. Dr. Husefield is an American who went out to Batavia thirty yeai's ago, became eminent in the natural his- tory of Java, and is now surrounded by his own labors in the museum of the India House, of which he is the chief librarian. I forgot to mention, yesterday, the old Countess of Cork, whom we met first at the rooms of Sir Rob- ert Inglis, and afterward, in the evening, at those of Miss Douglas. She is, I believe, the last remnant of the Johnsonian circle, Lord Stowell excepted. She is the Miss M. recorded in Boswell's life, to whom John- son applied the phrase of " Pretty fool." Pretty she might have been, but fool she certainly never was. She has talent even now, and at the age of eighty-five exercises considerable influence. Another incident crosses my mind, which I forgot. On Tuesday last, returning through Downing Street, where I had been calling on Mr. Herries, I met the Duke of Wellington with his groom behind him, galloping along in rather a hurried style. Turning into Lord 's, he jumped from his horse, but instead of entering the house, brushed hastily past me as I came up, and open- ing a small iron gate descended by a back way to LONDON. 229 another street. The next day the " Times " ex- plained it. On leaving the House of Lords he had been hooted and assailed with missiles, and was in full retreat when I saw him. Several arrests were made in consequence. Just returned from a little party at Mr. Senior's. They certainly understand the rational enjoyment of life better here than with us. Ladies are not ex- cluded ; on the contrary no good society exists with- out them ; the young do not rule ; and literature forms more the topic of conversation After a busy morning, went to the House ; while there received a message that the chancellor, Lord Lyndhurst, requested to see me at the wool-sack. This was rather awkward, as this official seat is in the centre of the House of Lords, and I was not sorry that business soon interrupted us. So I waited till he retired to his room, where I sat some time with him. He gave me unlimited orders for any papers or reports I desired, and begged me to write to him direct for any I might hereafter want. He proffered me admission within the bar on Tuesday next, when the king opens Parliament, which un- fortunately I cannot take advantage of. Talking of the approaching session, which they expect to be a stormy one, he said, " These levelers would be for taking the wig off my very head ;" to which I replied, " There were times when a man might count himself well off in losing only his wig." This brought on much pleasant conversation. Lord Lyndhurst is something of a humorist, and when on the wool- 230 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. sack looks always as if he was laughing in his sleeve. .... The " Quarterly Review " has greatly risen un- der Lockhart, who is very independent. In the last number, the article on " Babbage " was too lib- eral for the government. It was shown at the Coun- cil to the duke, the day before publication. He found fault with it and sent for Crocker, who threw the responsibility on Murray. Murray was sent for and threw it on Lockhart ; but Lockhart, when ap- plied to, refused to alter. The " Edinburgh Review," under Napier, has fallen very low. Saturday Night, October 30, 1830. — I close this day my account with London. Spent the day in ar- ranging and collecting. On returning home, found that Mr. Winslow had been there from Lord Lynd- hurst, with an order of admission to the House of Lords at the opening of Parliament by the king, on Tuesday. It is quite a disappointment to give it up, but so it must be, and so farewell London, England, Europe ; and now homeward. At Sea, good ship " Ontario." — November 8. — Two days' sail from the channel. We have changed the scene. I know nothing that makes such a sudden one, as that from the world of a great city to the waste of waters ; it is like another state of exist- ence. Our last day, Sunday, in London, was chiefly given, as was right, to thankful recollections, and I trust not unfruitful resolutions. We had too many kind friends, however, to be altogether alone. I had promised to breakfast with my new friends, the Vil- RETURN TO AMERICA. 231 liers, and there met Wilmot Horton, Mr. Hume, of the Foreign Office, Mr. M'Culloch, and Mr. Senior. All unite in the critical state of England, and espe- cially London, where they apprehend some sudden outbreak. Wilmot Horton rises upon me in talent. He read to us a " Jeu d'esprit " of his, on the duke, " What is the Captain about ? " a piece of great hu- mor. Such English society is of a higher tone than I have seen in any other country. The knowledge, talent, and conversational powers realize all I ever imagined of the society of clever men. Many crowded to bid us farewell at the last mo- ment, and at seven we joined the mail coach, of which we had taken the inside. Rode all night very comfortably, and reached the Quebec Hotel, Ports- mouth, a little after eight. The captain joined us after breakfast and arranged our going on board, and about one we set foot again on the deck of our gal- lant ship, while it seemed like a dream, all our wan- dei'ings, from the time we left it. Friday, November 12. — As we have a little calm weather to-day, I take my pen again. On Wednes- day evening just at dark, in the midst of a heavy squall, there was a cry that the elephant, which was our fellow-passenger, was out of her house. The captain, with great presence of mind, ordered the ship before the wind; and the mate, with equal courage, went up to the huge beast, who had wreathed her trunk around the chains, and crvino- " Back ! back ! " succeeded in getting her to retire quietly to her house.' .... 232 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. The distinction between the University and Acad- emy of France had often puzzled me ; let me secure while I can my recently acquired knowledge. The University is head of all instruction. The Academy of Paris and all other academies, colleges, etc., are integral parts of it. But the Institute is an independent body, composed of savans in all depart- ments. It consists of four academies. 1. The French Academy, or the Academy of France, originally devoted to the establishing and improving the French tongue. It consists of forty members, a president by rotation, and a perpetual secretary. Admission to this has been the highest reward to men of genius and sought after by princes. 2. The Academy of Inscriptions. The object of this was to guard the purity of the language. All public inscriptions in whatever language fall under its cognizance. 3. The Academy of Sciences. It was at its meet- ings that I attended. 4. The Academy of the "Beaux Arts." It is under its sanction that the exhibitions of drawings, statues, etc., are held, having in its gift prizes for students of art, affording a support in Italy " Gulf Stream, December 12. — After lying awake through one of our usual tremendous gales, during a long, dark, and anxious night I was often cheered by the notes of a canary whose cage hung opposite to our cabin door. His cheering song was always loudest in the height of the tempest. This had often struck me before, but to-night I felt it particu- RETURN TO AMERICA. 233 larly, and it suggested the following lines, which in listening I wrote : — Teach lovely songster ! teach to me That matin hymn of praise ; Which on the dark and stormy sea I hear thee nightly raise. It cheers me on my restless couch, It lifts my soul on high, It sounds above the rushing surge, Like music from the sky. Say not from thoughtless breast it springs, Unconscious of alarm ; 'Tis nature's voice which upward wings Its trust upon His arm By whom the seas lift up their voice, And tempests sweep the shore ; At whose command they still their noise, And oceans cease to roar. To Him thy little voice is tuned, His power and love its themes : His power which in the tempest speaks, His love which through it beams. Hark ! yet again, those heartfelt trills ! It shames my coward fears ; With pious trust my breast it fills, And gives me smiles for tears. For how shall I, the heir of life. Whom Jesus died to save, Forget that 'mid the waters' strife He walks upon the wave. Fear not, " 'Tis I : " that word hath given New calm within my breast ; It closes earth, it opens heaven, It shows how faith is blest. 234 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. Then thanks, sweet bird : thou'st taught to me Thy morning hymn of praise ; And on this dark and stormy sea, I'll emulate thy lays. And through the stormy sea of life, In sorrow's darkest hour, I'll think I hear thy matin song. And feel its gentle power. CHAPTER XV. BETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES: 1831. rriHE long and stormy voyage of the ship Ontario -■- was at last brought to a close by her safe arrival in the port of New York during the Christmas week, which closed the year 1830. She had been out fifty- eight days, and this protracted winter passage had caused both great suffering to those on board, and anxiety to expectant friends at home. But all was soon forgotten over the happy reunion at 8 College Green. Renewed health gave a zest to everything, and professional duties were at once resumed with the usual cheerful and determined zeal. In the matter of health, the chief object of this journey, we have the professor's own satisfactory report in a letter to one of his friends in England. " As you were kind enough to take an interest in my health, 1 am happy to assure you it is now quite restored. A month's ramble in Switzerland made a new man of me ; I know not whether by a physical or moral influence, but there was a kind of renewal of youth in that country I never felt before ; it seemed as if there was no care on its mountains, and nothing but peace in its valleys." Of the effect generally of this European tour, 236 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. upon one who had left home a dispirited and some- what disappointed man, the tone and matter of his journal have given sufficient evidence. It was just what then was needed for the future development and self-education of my father's mind and character. Men at forty have often built, with original talent and superior industry, their railroad tracks, but for the rest of life they too often become mere drivers, plodding backward and forward over them. Pro- fessional and business life is especially prone to this, and needs at times to be rudely interrupted to pre- vent this sort of fossilization. Travel is, perhaps, the best mode of counteracting it, especially when, as Huber advised, it is made from mind to mind, and not merely from inn to inn. Such was this European tour to an extent, which, at the present day, under increased facilities of travel, seems almost impossible. And the fact that such tours and journals belong to the past must be my excuse, if any be needed, for giving to this autobiographic record of a few months more pages than will hereafter be given to as many years. There is, however, another and a deeper view in which we must regard this season of widening ex- perience and health-giving enjoyment. It was a toughening of the human fibre to bear the strain of coming trial and fit the tempered instrument for higher work. Almost the last news received before leaving Eu- rope had contained the announcement of the death of my father's promising young friend Griffin, who, as RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 237 we have seen, had undertaken in his absence his chief duties in college. And now a sorrowing father at once called upon him to add a memoir of his deceased son to a volume of " Remains " which he had himself prepared. This " Memoir of Griffin " was afterwards published separately, and, at the request of the General Book Society of the Church, was placed upon its catalogue, the copyright being presented to the Society. Its concluding words open the theme and display the direction of mind which for the next twenty years was to be widened and deepened by continuous blows of domestic bereavement. " Thus closed the life of this amiable, pious, and talented young man. The aged cumberer of the earth is left, while the youthful Christian warrior is taken away, just as he is buckling on his armor for the battle. Yet thus it is that reason is ever baffled when it seeks to enter into the deep counsels of God, and it is perhaps for this very reason, to teach man humility and the nothingness of himself, and all things human, that death is permitted so often to snatch his victims out of the very instruments which God seems to have prepared for usefulness on earth. The shock given to the mind by one such breach upon the hopes and order of nature, does more to break down the barriers of worldly confidence, to arouse the young to reflection, and the thoughtless of every age to watchfulness, than a thousand re- movals in the ordinary course of mortality. But it teaches yet better things ; even the heathen in his 238 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. blindness could saj, ' Whom the gods love, die young.' And cannot the Christian see in their early removal a new proof of that better paradise of God to which they are translated, and where preparations for virtuous usefulness, fruitless as to this world, find at once their exercise and their reward ? " Death, with the exception of that of an infant of a few days, had not yet entered the circle of Pro- fessor McVickar's family. Nearly twenty-two years of married life had passed. Father and mother, five girls and three boys, and the great aunt, whose diary has and will still aid us in this life picture, made up the mystic and still unbroken circle of home. That it was a bright and cheerful one may be gathered from the fond way in which all clung to the old Hyde Park traditions, and that there was no lack of Job- like thankfulness we may assume from what we know of the older members. Miss Bard thus concludes her diary for 1830 : — " I close these pages with the safe arrival of our be- loved family on Tuesday evening, after a stormy pas- sage of fifty-eight days. When I reflect on all the mercies that have accompanied them during the past eight months, — in safety, health, pleasure, and im- provement, returning to their happy children and family all in health, with numerous friends rejoicing to welcome them home — M^hat gratitude, what praise can be adequate to such great goodness. My heart, alas ! is not large enough for all I wish to feel. O my God ! increase my love, duty, and devotion, that I may never, never forget thy loving-kindness and mercies towards us." RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 239 Two months after this date, the budding flower and ornament of the family, Anna, the eldest daugh- ter, just entering her twenty -first year, and fresh from the exciting pleasures of her foreign tour, was struck down with illness, and in a few days fell asleep to this earth and its fleeting interests. If artist and friends were not extremely partial, she must have had rare beauty, a loving spirit, and high accomplishments. A letter from her father to one of her attached young friends gives us many partic- ulars, but I quote only enough to show the character of his sorrow, and the practical nature of his hopes, for both were destined to gather and strengthen as his life advanced. " Thus far may I say, this visitation has been blessed to us, and our hearts have been less filled with sorrow than with gratitude for the countless mercies which pi'eceded and accompanied it When I reflect, besides, that a peaceful and Christian death is the most we can pray for at the end even of the longest life, I can almost feel thankful that our dear child has not only escaped all that she might have endured, but that we have witnessed her attain- ment of all we could pray for her. For when we look to her life, it was one of innocent and peaceful enjoyment, with a deep sense of religion. The last year of her short life was, as it ought to be, the happiest and most improving. Travel enlarged her powers, widened her observations, deepened her re- flections, and refined both her heart and mind by in- tercourse with the wise and good. 240 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. " I thank God I feel that confidence in the bless- edness of that world to which she has gone that I would not exchange my dead daughter for any living one, but those I have. And instead of feeling as if any pains in her education were now lost, I feel, on the contrary, as if not only every virtue she acquired, but every talent and accomplishment to which she was trained, were now called into higher exercise. I know not what more life can do for us than cultivate our understandings and purify and elevate our af- fections. The life that has done that, is long enough. '%■ To that period our dear Anna had attained ; and I can call her blessed that she was taken away before age, sorrow, and the world had time to darken or blight the fair prospect." With such feelings, bereavement and sorrow tended to strengthen rather than weaken resolution. The following, from a letter of this year to Miss Bard, shows how fully time and thought were now given to his work : — " The college goes on much as usual. The presi- dent courteous as ever, and Professor cross as ever, but neither much affect me. I have full and satisfactory duties of my own, partly in and partly out of college. In college, my most agreeable is my new one, the course of Evidences I have undertaken with the senior class. And so agreeable are all my college duties, that neither a cross word nor a dis- satisfied feeling have arisen from them since the term began. My external duties are voluntary. I have undertaken to preach a sermon in our principal RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 241 churches at the request of the bishop for the greatest cause our Church can urge, the Theological Seminary. I have been invited, also, to deliver a course of lec- tures on Moral Science, before the Young Men's As- sociation. The o;rammar school of the college takes up my time more and more every day, and may be- come my hobby ; the " Churchman " also calls me its debtor from time to time, for a communication." . . . " Bishop White has been in the city, and as he leaned upon my arm, walking to church the other day, I asked him of his knowledge as to General Washington's religious character, but there was little to tell beyond respect and decorum. He never was a communicant, though his wife was." The summer vacation of this year was spent in travelling through eastern Pennsylvania. Mrs. Mc- Vickar's failing health suggested an entire change of air and scene, and it was thought that the proposed trip would be beneficial. But it was soon found that the comfort of American travel in those days, even as is still the case over unfrequented routes, was little short of misery. The great Pennsylvania wagon,, with canvas top, forced to accommodate the whole- party of ten, over roads which from the account must have been dreadful, with the usual accompaniment of summer heat and dust, seems fully to justify the concluding remarks of Miss Bard, in her journal : " To the young and gay-hearted this journey has ex- cited much interest and admiration, but to my feelings it has been totally adverse, and from the day we left 16 242 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Nazareth it has been a scene of fatigue, alarm, and dismay." At Wilkesbarre, Mrs. McVickar was taken quite ill, and it was four weeks before they could leave the place and move homeward. This must have sharp- ened the memory of the late loss, thus touchingly referred to in the same journal: "But oh! how does every beauty in nature, as art, recall the beloved object who used to be our constant companion, and whose pure, delicate taste and observations doubled all our pleasures. When her father now reads some noble or touching lines in her favorite Southey or Wordsworth, I think I hear the sound of her sweet voice, as she used to recite the parts she most ad- mired." And yet, in spite of all this, childish mem- ory of sports that summer in which the father was never absent, and childish records, filling many copy- books, with the proceedings of a mock-heroic society, of which he was the founder and animating spirit, show how wonderful must have been the power of self-control, and how full the realization of a parent's duty in his sad and foreboding heart. When we remember, too, that the subject of this memoir had by nature a nervous and anxious temperament, we see here evidences of character which may not im- properly be called heroic, though he would have been the last ever to imagine that he was playing the role of the hero. It was simply that with him the greater duty was never an excuse for the neglect of the lesser. Term time brought with it, this year, its usual RETURN TO COLLEGE ^DUTIES. 243 college duties, much increased by voluntary addi- tions in the enlargement of the course. The two following notes from well-known names at Washing- ton, show, however, that there were wider thoughts as well as a widening reputation. WaIhington, March 3, 1832. Dear Sir, — I beg to make you my thanks for your letter of the 28th ult., received yesterday, in- closing a proposition for a new banking company. I should entertain great respect for any system proceed- ing from your deliberate research and examination, and receiving the approbation of yourself and the in- telligent men around you. I will take the first leisure moment to investigate the present proposition, and may correspond with you more at large. Meantime, I am, dear sir. With great respect, Your obedient servant, Louis McLane. To Rev. John McVickar, etc., etc. Washington, May 4, 1832. My dear Sir, — I inclose you many questions,^ submitted to Mr. Biddle, which he will probably an- swer before the close of this session. I am permitted by the committee to submit them also to other gen- tlemen, and I know of no one who understands the subject better than you do. You will oblige me, at your leisure, by looking them over, and making such 1 Respecting a National Banking System. 244 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR suggestions as you may think proper, or answering such of the questions as you may appropriately do. I am, with great respect and esteem, Your obedient servant, C. C. Cambreleng. Eev. John McVickar. To some, letters like the above, addressed to one who had upon him the vows of Holy Orders, may seem to suggest over-attention to what are called worldly subjects. But I question whether the ex- perience of my father's life will justify any such in- ference. Rather did his wide range of thought give to him what appears now almost as if it had been prophetic power in dealing with all practical questions of the Church, as they arose. In the sermon preached at the bishop's request, at this time, in the New York churches, in behalf of the general seminary, we find this exemplified. His subject, " The Signs of the Times," as demand- ing a learned clergy, is one easier estimated to-day than it was forty years ago ; yet the true bearing of science on religion, could hardly be better stated under the advantages of our present vastly increased light, than in the following lines : — " The last sig-n of our times is one that makes the learning of the clergy not only a sacred duty but a glorious privilege. It' is an age of the fulfill- ment OF PROPHECY. Science is, step by step, as I may say, Christianizing itself, turning into arguments for our faith those very physical phenomena which it RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 245 once laid as stumbling-blocks in our path. The infi- delity which science planted, science with its own hand now roots up So marked, indeed, is this sign of our times as to have already called forth the conjecture of reflecting minds, that to centuries, as to individuals, may belong each its appointed task ; and that the peculiar task and duty of that in which we live, will be to Christianize science by identifying its results with the truths of revelation. Noble and cheering prospect ! True it is, that we can here pick up, but, as it were, among the ruins of the temple, piece by piece, scattered fragments of that divine philosophy which once made all nature a glorious mirror of the power, the presence, and the mercy of God. But still who knows how near we may arrive, or how much may be effected, by uniting learning with piety, in the education of our clergy. For, if to human endeavor be destined so glorious a reward, to whom belono-s that honor before the Christian o ministry ? " Or see how the banker and economist comes out in the following, to teach our Church a lesson she has been so slow to learn : — " Look, too, at its funds ; do they correspond with the wealth and liberality which unquestionably exists among us ? Can Churchmen be aware that this un- fed mother of their children is consuming, I may say, literally, her own heart's blood in their support ? Yet such is the fact. At the rate of near $1,500 a year is its productive capital annually decreasing, through its necessary though most economical expenditure. 246 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Means of relief, it is true, it has in prospect ; but, though ample in name, in reality they are unavailing. Exposed, besides, to all the uncertainties which attend future contingencies, and therefore not to be relied on by prudent men ; above all in a case of such present emergency. What, too, are they in a question of our duty ? When our starving children ask bread, shall we give them what is colder than a stone ? the fair sight of some distant crop which other hands have sown for their future support. Or even if such funds could be anticipated, would it not be a shame in us, as Churchmen, thus prematurely to exhaust a foun- tain, which, rightly guarded, will one day send forth a perennial stream ; and tenfold shame, as men and Christians, thus to add meanness to sacrilege, to rob the treasures of the dead in order that we may throw off our own responsibilities on a pious liberality which has now gone to its reward ? " These words are but a sample of what was con- stantly heard from his lips, at the meetings of the many Church societies to which he belonged, when- ever financial matters came up for discussion. He would never give his sanction to anything like a shift- less policy in what concerned money, and if he had enemies, as all strong-minded men have, more or less, they were generally those who felt themselves ag- grieved at the unsparing manner in which he exposed their financial fallacies, and opposed their temporizing measures. Professor McVickar's value to the Church in the Diocese of New York, was, in this respect, a weighty RETURN TO COLLEGE DUTIES. 247 one. All societies, having funds, seemed glad to have him as a trustee, and the following list, in his own handwriting, made by request, in 1864, of itself sug- gests a valuable life : — "In 1820, I was elected by Convention a member of the Missionary Committee of the diocese, and, as secretary, had its affairs mainly on my hands, and during Bishop Hobart's absence in Europe, obtained aid from the general government for carrying on our Indian mission and school. " In 1826, on the establishment of the General Theological Seminary, I was elected one of its trus- tees, and a member of its standing committee, a position I still hold. "In , a vice-president of the New York Bible and Common Prayer Book Society, and have so con- tinued. " In , a vice-president of the Tract Society, and chairman of its committee for selection. " In 1840, a vice-president of the City Mission Society ; was also among its founders, and for many years its presiding officer. " In , a trustee and soon superintendent of the Society for Promoting Religion and Learning. " In 1828, a trustee of Trinity School ; for many years official visitor of the school, and chairman of the school committee ever since. " Of the New York Athenaeum, president, for some years, till its consolidation with the ' Society Library,' in 1836." To this, to make it complete, must be added the 248 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. very honorable and important position of a member of the Standing Committee of the Diocese of New York, from 1834 to 1868, being its president for the last five years, and also that of trustee of St. Stephen's College, Annandale, from its foundation. This represents many years of service in many varied positions, none of which were allowed to be sin- ecures. They were the side-streams of a noble river, pouring their fresh waters and varied interests into the main current of an academic and literary life, pre- venting alike either one-sidedness or stagnation. And above and around all rose the controlling influence of clear religious principle. As he writes at about this date, in concluding a review on Chalmers, — '" Christianity, truly preached, is to us as to the inhabitants of Great Britain, the only rock of safety, — to them against the outbreakings of a starving mul- titude ; to us against the abuse of civil privileges. Centuries may pass over us before scantiness of food shall be the provocation to rapine ; but our own age will not probably pass without our feeling that the virtue of the people is our only political security, and the institutions of Christianity our only sufficient safe- guard for the existence of that virtue." It is not necessary to call this prophecy ; it is suffi- cient that we recognize it as that fruit of wisdom which the grafted tree of religious learning ever bears. CHAPTER XVI. LETTERS : 1832. THE death of Sir Walter Scott about this time stirred deeply the heart of New York, as well as of all the English-speaking world. Public meet- ings were held, resolutions adopted, subscriptions toward a monument here, or in Edinburgh, started, and the delivery of a public tribute to his memory determined upon. Seventy names, such as the old New Yorker loves now to recall, commencing with David Hadden and followed by such as James G. King, James K. Paulding, Washington Irving, Robert Halliday, and Jonathan Goodhue, signed a call for a public meeting at the Merchants' Exchange, Wall Street, on the 19th of November, 1832, " to take into consideration the best means of uniting with the com- mittees in Scotland, in a tribute of respect to the memory of the Great Minstrel of the North." One of the results of this meeting was the folloAving note to Professor McVickar : — New York, November 29, 1832. Reverend and dear Sir, — At a meeting of our fellow-citizens we have been authorized to adopt, measures to procure an eulogium to be pronounced 250 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. upon the late Sir Walter Scott as a suitable tribute to the memory of that distinguished man, whose works have delighted and instructed both hemispheres, and whose death both hemispheres deplore. A In requesting you to undertake this grateful and interesting duty, we have the honor to subscribe our- selves, reverend ana dear sir. Your friends and obedient servants, Jonathan M. Wainwright, Robert Halliday, W. A. DUER. The Eet. John McVickak. This request was, with some hesitation, acceded to, and the " Tribute to the Memory of Sir Walter Scott," afterwards published by request, was delivered early in December, before, what was then a compara- tive possibility, the intelligent audience of New York. It was a high-toned and heartfelt eulogium, and de- served the general approbation with which it was received. The romantic school in English writing was then both new and popular. Scott was its ideal, and we can well understand how sympathetic, to an audience perfectly familiar with his works, would be the suggestive reminders of this eulogium. From many notes respecting it I select the follow- ing : — Stockbeidgb, March 2, 1833. My dear Sir, — On my return from Boston I found the " Tribute to the Memory of Sir Walter Scott " awaiting me, and I am unwilling to receive, LETTERS. 251 Without acknowledgment, so high a gratification as its perusal has furnished me. Permit me first, however? to thank you for an attention which is the more agreeable, as it recognizes on your part an acquaint- ance I am happy to perpetuate ; to this 1 must be allowed to add my admiration of the beauty, truth, and eloquence of the production itself. If to few in oiu' country has been afforded the great privilege of seeing and personally knowing Sir Walter Scott, we must at least rejoice that such a distinction has been awarded to one so capable as the writer of appreciat- ing justly his character and genius, and of transmit- ting his impressions to others. With best wishes for the health of Mrs. McVickar and your family, beheve me, My dear sir, Very respectfully, your obliged, Susan A. L. Sedgwick. Ebv. John McVickar. The following from Mrs. Grant, of Laggan, shows that it met with as much favor on the other as on this side of the Atlantic, and that, too, from those who knew Scott best : — Rev. dear Sir, — It is not easy for me to say how much you have gratified — I may well say delighted me with the beautiful garland you have hung on the tomb of him whom we all delighted to honor. The mere combination of genius so splendid, with virtue so modest, so consistent, and a temper so sweetly 252 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. benevolent, seemed to touch the hardest hearts with a kind of hallowed influence. Never surely was a person so much admired, so little, if at all, envied. To me he was not merely a warm friend but a bene- factor, ever ready to promote my interests and ad- vantages in every possible way. I felt his loss more deeply than in a person drawing so near the verge of time is perhaps excusable. But Sir Walter's death in one sense made me young again, that is, I felt a renewal of that keen anguish which belongs more to the untamed feelings of youth than to the subdued state of a mind inured to suffering The facility with which this rich intellect poured forth the profusion of its fruits always appeared to me a proof that he felt a lively pleasure in com- position such as a bird does in singing. James Bal- lantyne, his confidential friend, who, within a few months, has followed him to the grave, has told me that, in instances which he mentioned, his sense of the ludicrous was such that, in writing, he was obliged to lay down his pen and indulge in a hearty laugh. He gathered thoughts and images from quarters where no one else would have looked for them. What Pope says of some one by way of re- proach, was true of him. He indeed — " FiUed his head, With all such reading as was never read ; " but the gold that he extracted from this lead showed no common chemic powers. There was and is some- thing too near idolatry in the feelings with which I think of this happy specimen of humanity in its finest LETTERS. 253 from. Yet I do not expatiate in this way except to those of whose full sympathy I am assured. I hope, dear sir, you will consider it a compliment when I assure you I think I could not have written so fully and freely to another, and I am not afraid of tiring you. It is pleasant to think of the effect such un- clouded goodness had on Byron in all his splendid wretchedness. He could not hear him named with- out emotion, his eyes filled, and his color changing. His distrust in human virtue was to him a sense of misery. He used to say a few more like Walter Scott would have reconciled him to his fellow-men. Your eulogium of our illustrious friend gave much pleasure, not to say pride, to many of his admirers. It is to be printed at the end of the edition of the works now publishing. It is time to subscribe myself, dear sir, with much esteem and regard, Yours truly, Anne Grant. To appreciate Mrs. Grant's beautiful allusion to the effect of Sir Walter's death in renewing her youth, it must be remembered that she, herself, was long past eighty, though her large pages of fine and beautiful calligraphy would seem to pronounce her as young as she felt. At the close of the " eulogimn," my father sug- gested the proposition from America of an inter- national copyright as the truest monument which 254 LIFE OF JOHN MWICKAR. Americans could erect to the memory of Scott. This created considerable attention at the time. It was brought before Congress, and the British Consul at Boston, Mr. George Manners, corresponded with the author. Judge Storj, and others respecting it ; but it seems to have come to nothing. The mother country had taught her independent and growing child a selfish policy in other matters, and the lesson was now turned against herself. Though the time may come, an international copyright was not then, nor would it be now, of pecuniar}^ advantage to this country ; and hence courtesy, honorable feeling, and the individual interests of authors must go for nothing. The abuse by travellers of the opportunities granted through social intercourse, in pandering to the public curiosity respecting great men, was one "with which my father had no sympathy. He not only avoided it, but actually dreaded the slightest imputation. In a letter to Lockhart, Sir Walter's son-in-law, accom- panying a copy of the eulogium, he says : — " Having been recently called upon to express my own feelings and those of my fellow- citizens on the death of Sir Walter Scott, I owe it you on every account to remit a copy of what I have said, more especially as I was naturally led to speak in it of that opportunity of personal intercourse enjoyed by myself and family during our short residence at Abbotsford in the June of 1830. I do this in order that you may be aware of all I have said pubhcly on that subject. I regarded the invitation to Abbots- LETTERS. 255 ford at the time as an honor to which I had no sufficient claim, and felt it consequently as a most sacred obligation not to abuse the opportunity it might afford to the gratification of idle curiosity in myself or others. I therefore abstained Avhile there from the use of my pen, even in the trifling journal I kept for the gratification of my children at home, though I could not deny myself or them the pleasure of my after recollections ; but to their eyes it has been almost strictly confined, until the late melan- choly event induced me to employ it in the ' manner you see." On the 21st of April of this year, after twenty- four years of married life, my mother died, leaving seven children. As a man leaning upon a staff that had well supported him, when that staff breaks, either falls, or seeks another, or straightens himself up into independent strength, so was it with my father in this great loss and sorrow of his life. And in a moment it would seem that the resolution was formed. One had fallen in the great copartnership of life, and the other without hesitation, in hopes of reunion, takes up and determines to bear for life, be it long or short, the double burden. Nor is this merely matter of conjecture. In the prime of life, — he was then forty-five, — handsome, as his portrait by Inman shows, with conversational powers which, even in that day of a brilliant New York society, were noted, and which he never lost, he thus writes to his eldest daughter describing the monument which he had erected to her mother, and the inscrip- tion which embodied his deliberate resolve : — 256 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. " The words inscribed are few, and have reference only to myself, which my dear children must pardon. The inscription is as follows, the word ' parents ' being above : — ELIZA BARD MCVICKAR, Born 12 Octobek, 1787, Died 27 April, 1833. IN THE christian's REST SHE NOW AWAITS ONE YET STRUGGLING WITH A christian's HOPE. " It occupies but one half the side, the other being reserved for your dear father when God shall see fit to call him to join her, I trust, in those blessed man- sions where there is no parting, and where we shall all, through a Saviour's merits, be reunited." This monument is a plain, solid block of white marble, on the top of which a marble cross now stands. It occupies the centre of a square plot in the rural church-yard which my father's own hands had laid out, when, as a young deacon, he first took charge of the church which his father-in-law had built for him at Hyde Park, on the banks of the Hudson River. ^ My mother's character, however beautiful and attractive, does not concern the thread of that life which I am endeavoring now to trace, but the love my father bore her does, for it remained within him to the last, a strong motive power. I shall, therefore, close this subject with two extracts, one from a letter LETTERS. 257 written for all bis children four weeks after his loss, the other from one written to Miss Bard some months later. " If then, my dear children, you loved your mother, follow her example. Let religion give strength to your character, consistency to your con- duct, and cheerfulness to all your futiu'e prospects. Let benevolence be in all your plans, and energy in all you execute ; fear neither difficulties, nor dan- ger, nor self-denial in the path of duty ; and without losing sight of Providence, keep ever, as your dear mother did, a generous heart, a willing mind, and an open hand, whenever God places before you the means of doing good. Thus living, your reward shall be as hers was, love and affection without bound or limit, and on the bed of death that peace which passeth all understanding ; and above all your reward shall be a reunion with yom" sainted mother where there is no sin and no sorrow, no tears and no "parting. Thus prays your affectionate and be- reaved father." To Miss Baed. " 'Tis true there was a dear one for whom my pen was readier, absent from whom I counted not days but hours, for wherever she was seemed to me my only home and resting-place. Now she is gone, my heart is scattered wherever those are who were near and dear to her. Home, in its dearest sense, I have no longer on earth, nor expect to feel till I join her in that Christian's rest where she awaits me. Neither 17 258 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR friend, however dear, nor child, however beloved, can supply the void ; it must remain till made up an hundredfold in a future life. Her dear likeness has been my greatest comfort ; I open it on my table ; I have her gentle face as my companion whether I write or read. It is the last object on which I look at night, and the first thing I see in the morning is the same sweet countenance. O, that it could change or speak, and sometimes I look on it till I almost fancy that it does. But these are dreams, and from them I awake when duty calls, stronger and more resolute. Duty, active duty, therefore, must be my support." The habit thus formed of companionship with the departed spirit of the loved one through a miniature, which except on the rarest occasions was never al- lowed to meet other eyes than his own, but always stood open at his bedside during the hours of the night, was kept up, probably without a single inter- mission, to the last, a period of thirty-seven years. The conscientious effort to be a mother as well as a father to his children was at once made, and a country-house purchased that very year to be their summer home during the three months of college vacation. He wisely went among friends, purchas- ing from his brother James his cottage and farm at Constableville, or Turin, as it was generally called, in Lewis County, New York, about three hundred miles northwest of the city. It was a long journey of three days, steamboat, canal-boat, and stage-coach, LETTERS. 259 but at the end everything was such as to contribute to his children's happiness. There was a large circle of uncles, aunts, and cousins, a cool summer climate, a noble country bordering on the Black River and the region of the Adirondacks, a dairy farm, beside all the stimulating interests of a vacation. To these were added, as if for my father's special need, in this hour of his loneliness, a struggling Church. As he writes to Miss Bard shortly after the removal of his family, — " All looks well here but the Church, which from various reasons has sunk almost to nothing. The endeavor to revive it is the great duty which now opens upon me." Fortunately this was a year filled for my father with varied interests. Early in the summer I find him elected an honorary member of the Literary and Historical Society of Quebec, and shortly after the offer of the provostship of the University of Penn- sylvania, just vacated by Dr. DeLancey, was pressed upon him. This last was urged strongly in letters from Dr. Adrain, and Bishop H. U. Onderdonk. It is possible that the disappointment in the matter of the presidency of Columbia College may have caused him at first to think favorably of this opportunity to take the head of a rival institution in another State ; but if so, and I only infer it from some delay in giving his final answer, other considerations must have prevailed. Among these a strong attachment to his native State, city, and diocese would doubtless have much weight. Both in Church and State he 260 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. was a New Yorker, and that to him was synonymous with liberal views, and a high progressive conserv- atism. This was held not comparatively and boast- fully, but positively and practically. As a citizen and a Churchman, it would, at any time, have been a hard trial for him to leave New York. CHAPTER XVII. FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS : 1833-1835. T T will be remembered that in the journal of the -■- days spent at the Hospice of the St. Bernard mention was made of the discovery in the museums cabinet of a specimen of anthracite coal, found in the neighborhood, and of my father's efforts to arrange some means for burning it. In this he was but par- tially successful. But the subject was not allowed to pass from his mind, and on his return to America he interested a few friends, whose names deserve record here, — Edward Laight, William Moore, Frederick Prime, and Miss Douglas, to aid him in. sending a Nott's stove to the Hospice. This, after some delay and much difficulty, was accomplished:, and the following letters give an interesting account of the event : — St. Bernard, le 20 F€vrier, 1833. Tres Honorb Monsieur, — L'Hospice du St, Bernard conservera toujours un trds pr^cieux sou- venir de I'intdret que vous prenez a sa prosp^rite;, je puis vous assurer et vous prie de vouloir bien aussi assurer vos amis, qu'il n'est aucun Religieux de notre Congregation qui ne sente vivement les bienfaits que notre Hospice a re^us et va recevoir encore par 262 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. I'offre g^n^reux que vous lui faites d'un fourneau a brulerl'anthracite. Get objet sera pour nous une pr^- cieuse ressource pour chauffer economiquement la maison, et un soulagement pour riiumanite soufFrante, car eloigne de cinq lieues (twenty-five miles) des bois, et vu leur rarete et la difficulte du transport, nous etions obliges d'en faire une stricte econoniie ; au lieu que I'anthracite pent etre portd sans fais — mais il nous manquoit le mojen de le faire bruler. Ce fourneau sera done un monument qui constatera la g^nerosite et le devouement de nos amis en Am^- rique, en faveur des pauvres passagers au travers des Hautes Alpes, par le grand St. Bernard. Ces bien- faits la reconnaissance les devra a ce sentiment pieux qui interesse si vivement les amis de I'humanit^ envers les malheureux. Votre tres humble serviteur, Barras, Chan., Reg., Clavendier de I'Hospice. MoNSiEUE LE Professor Macvicae. By what might well be called a fortunate provi- dence, the stove, by no means an easy one to handle, as those who remember the eight-foot high stoves of Dr. Nott in the hall-ways of the old New York houses will acknowledge, fell in with a scientific traveller of the name of Saynisch at the foot of the mountain. He, interesting himself at once in the afikir, joined company with the stove, which on such an errand of mercy we may well look upon as a liv- ing thing, and did not part company with it till it was FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 263 set up in the Hospice and the good brothers of the Order had rejoiced over its genial glow. The following letter, coming as it did from an en- tire stranger, gave to all concerned in the enterprise a very happy feeling : — Hospice St. Bernard, April 26, 1833. My dear Sir, — It is with the greatest gratifica- tion and pleasure that I can communicate to you the fulfillment of your wishes to erect the stove which you had the kindness to send to the St. Ber- nard. In this time of the year when the snow reaches Lydde, four miles below St. Pierre, it was with the utmost difficulty for me to bring it up. Till Lydde it was brought on wagon ; from there I took six men, who brought it in pieces to the summit. The construction was very difficult, because several were broken when I opened the case. Notwith- standing all this I succeeded to burn the coal, which is more a plumbago than anthracite. Since yester- day the stove is in full operation, and the joy of the brethren has no boundary. They remember you and your dear family with the greatest gratitude. To- morrow I shall go down with the marronnier and the dogs, because the weather is very stormy and the snow enormous. Your most obedient servant, L. Saynisch. Professor McVickar. P. S. I hope you Avill excuse my good English ; my dictionary is 6,000 feet below. 264 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. These letters, with a few others from M. Barras, appeared in the " New York American " of July 5, 1833, accompanied by some editorial remarks from the editor, Charles King, but with a studious omis- sion, evidently at my father's request, of his own name. A few days afterwards appeared in the same sheet, the following : — " The fact of the discovery, by an American trav- eller, of a species of anthracite on Mount St. Ber- nard, and of the subsequent present, through , his instrumentality, of one of Nott's stoves to the brothers of the monastery, as recorded in this paper on Friday, has attracted much notice and inquiry. Among the evidences of this, we offer, without the permission of the writer, the following extract from a note addressed to us by a distinguished man of letters, a German, now resident among us : — " 'Dear Sir, — Are you at liberty to give me the name of the gentleman who erected so excellent a monument of American activity and practical sense on the high summit of the St. Bernard ? I should like to mention his name in some proper place, though I do not yet know where. At all events, I should like to know the name ; it gives me always great de- light to watch the pulsations of extending civilization. My heart glowed — not precisely like a Nott stove, but at least like a Roman marito — when I read the account of the invaluable present to the good broth- erhood of the Hospice. How many a traveller will bless the giver of this stove. Imagine a husband who sees his wife, nearlv dead by frost, recovering FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 265 by this thrice blessed stove. Why, if I knew Eng- lish, I would make an ode on this new victory of hu- man intelligence : compare it to Napoleon's passing the Alps, and Avho would appear as the greater bene- factor ? ' " It can be no harm, though it is a liberty, that we should answer publicly the inquiry of our corre- spondent, and name Professor McVickar of Colum- bia College." The effect produced upon the minds of the occu- pants of that dreary abode by the happy discovery and practical suggestions of my father, was probably not the least of the benefits bestowed. The mental stagnation of cold and solitude combined, must have been a no unfrequent visitor to this cheerless abode, 8,000 feet above the level of the sea. Anything, therefore, which should create universal interest would be a boon to its inmates, and much more if likely to become a panacea for their greatest ills. J. Fenimore Cooper, writing from Paris at this time to a son of Governor Jay, tells of the enthusiasm among the brothers at the Hospice, but does not sympathize as fully in their feelings as he probably would have done had he himself been under bonds to remain up in that freezing atmosphere for two or three years. He writes : — " I was at the Great St. Bernard the other day, and the lazy monks inquired after Dr. McVickar, who has quite won their hearts by sending them a contrivance to keep them warm. The egotists did nothing but talk of stoves and coal mines." 266 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. It will not lessen the Interest of this little episode, though it must suggest days of deep disappointment at the Hospice, to hear that, after being successfully used for a year or two, the vein of coal gave out, and that they have since had to have recourse again to the fagots of wood, brought up on the backs of mules twenty-five miles, from the valley below. My father was at this time, and long after, deeply interested in the work of city missions, and was now chairman of the City Mission Society. Aided by members of his family and one or two seminary stu- dents, he had started a mission school at Union Square, a neighborhood then not unlike to the present approaches to Central Park. Also another at the dry dock on the East River, which, with the Church of the Epiphany that sprang from it, were, until their adoption by the City Mission Society, supported and carried on by him. Of the capabilities of this City Mission Society, which is still doing a noble though restricted work in the metropolis, he had a high esti- mation. It was through his Influence that it was at this time intrusted by the diocese with the exclusive charge of missionary operations in the city of New York. I find evidence also that he then urged both Trinity Parish and the Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning, to recognize its official instrumentality, and supply funds for Increasing the work, and for the purchase of mission sites over the whole island. This broad and bold scheme of mis- sionary work, which would have placed the Church on such vantage ground as the swelling tides of in- FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 267 creasing population rolled in around her, failed, as all such schemes in our Church have failed, from parochial jealousy arising from the want of recog- nized episcopal headship and a cathedral centre. And though his connection with the society con- tinued for many years, he never felt that it had been allowed to do its full or rightful work. On the 10th of June, 1834, my father was called upon by the students of the college to address them on the death of an honored and beloved fellow-stu- dent, William Moore De Rham. Relationship and close intimacy with the family made it to him an oc- casion of more than usual interest. The address, under the title, " Be ye also Ready," was published by request, and I feel that in rescuing from the dust and oblivion of the pamphlet collector's shelves the following words of wise and much needed advice, I am but doing that which will receive the thankful acknowledgment of most of my readers : — *' And do you ask how you are to be always ready, I answer, by the steady performance upon Christian principles of each daily duty as it rises before you. Concentrate your thoughts on the present duty what- ever it be. The present hour, the present moment is all you have of life. The past is gone, utterly, irretrievably ; the future is not, and to you may never be ; ' the present,' therefore, ' calm and wise dispose.' " " The position of the youthful student is doubtless one of great danger and high trial, and it is among the mysteries of our probationary state, why, at the age 268 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. when resolution is weakest, passion should be found the strongest ; and the fiery trial of temptation appointed unto those who are but novices in resisting even its ordinary allurements. Yet thus it is ; God has so willed it, and our only comfort is, that where a right- eous ruler has sent trial He has doubtless sent pro- portionate help. Nor is that aid far to seek ; much is to be found in that ardent nature which is itself your betrayer ; in those warm and generous emotions of virtue, which, even in our corrupt nature, still char- acterize the heart of youth ; in a pure and generous ambition of excellence, at that age most easily excited; in a deep love of earthly parents, whose hearts would be broken by a child's misconduct, and their gray hairs brought down in sorrow to the grave ; and in a natural piety to a heavenly parent, which in the youthful breast springs up instinctively into feelings of love and gratitude. But among human means, let me urge upon you as the most practical and most powerful, the habits of a faithful and diligent student. These preoccupy the debatable ground of the hu- man heart, and leave no room for the lodgment of traitorous affections. It is the idle mind alone that is weak to resist allurement ; it is the vacant thought that allows wandering fancy to be caught with the unreal shows of vicious pleasure. Therefore, will the real student, as a general rule, ever be found to be the virtuous student, and the source of his danger seen to be not so much in the strength as in the unoccu- pied state of his emotions. It is the stagnant pool that breeds the noxious vapors, and from the listless FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 269 hours of idleness, as from their head-waters, creep out the dark and deadly streams of gaming, intem- perance, and vicious dissipation ! If, unfortunately, any whom I now address are trembling on the verge of this precipice, let me here arouse them to a sense of the danger in which they stand. I would exhort them in the spirit-stirring language of our great dram- atist, — ' Rouse up, be firm, and wanton love Shall from your neck unloose his amorous hold, And, like a dew-drop from a lion's mane. Be shook in air.' " But to him who seeks it there are higher aids than mere occupation of mind. Conscience speaks within — la buona compagnia, to borrow the thought of the classic poet of Italy, — ' La buona compagnia che I'uom francheggia Sotto I'osbergo del sentirsi pura.' Or, to give it in the almost equally classic words of his late translator, — ' That boon companion, who her strong breast-plate Buckles on him who feels no guilt within, And bids him on and fear not.' " That inward voice is to the student a voice of safety, for it speaks of time and talents and means of youthful improvement, as things to be accounted for in a day of righteous retribution. " But higher yet is your strength. Do you ask on what aid that youth shall rest, who, with a spirit will- ing, finds yet his nature weak. I answer, on that 270 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. grace which is given in return to earnest prayer, and which is never withheld from the sincere and faithful spirit. That aid, unlike to human aid, lessens not in the using ; it may be wasted, but can never be wearied ; it may be grieved, and offended, and driven away, but, with a friendship as high above worldly friendships as heaven is above earth, it can never be exhausted or overtasked ; it comes into the heart at first, small and unregarded, as the seed of the tree which the birds carry to the fruitful meadow ; but received in a thankful soil, it grows up like that tree, till it shelters in its branches those winged thoughts of the soul, which are as the birds that brought it, and till its roots are so entwined with every fibre of the heart as to bid defiance not only to the storm c£ passion and the assaults of temptation, but even to the searching fires of persecution and martyrdom. " But there is one question more of deeper interest. How sliall he who has once fallen, return ? How shall the path of innocence be regained, if, through heed- lessness or temptation, our feet have slipped from it ? I answer you in the dying words of him to whom this debt of respect is paid : ' I have a humble trust in the mediation of my Redeemer ; my hope is in Jesus Christ.' Through Him may sin ever be pardoned ; through Him may grace be gained; through Him and the blessed Spirit may the path of repentance lead again to that of innocence, and that narrow path be more safely trodden, when the steps of youth are guided by a light from Heaven, and their feet guarded by the preparation of the gospel of peace." FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 271 This year appeared from the press, " The Early Years of Bishop Hobart." The relationship between the Bishop and my father had been a very near one. Ordained by him in the first year of his episcopate, he had ever remained the Bishop's warm admirer, and soon became his intimate and attached friend. His loss was deeply felt, both personally and because of the Church ; and the importance of a faithful record of his life seems early to have suggested itself to my father's mind. In commenting, in the columns of ♦' The Churchman," on Dr. Strachan's letter to Dr. Chalmers on " The Life and Character of Bishop Hobart," he says, " Where is the domestic monu- ment which some one of his many sons are bound to raise to his memory ; " but I do not think that he had then any idea of raising that monument himself. The first contribution toward a life of the Bishop was made by the Rev. J. F. Schroeder, entitled " A Me- morial of Bishop Hobart ; " then came a " Memoir," by Dr. Berrian, attached to his works ; and it may still be said that the life of Bishop Hobart, the most influential and impoi'tant life that the Church in America has yet know^n, remains to be written. The " Early " and " Professional Years," by my father, are but the material for such a life. His object in the " Early Years " was distinctly of this character, calling himself editor, and presenting, through original letters, the outlines of a character so true to its after development as to silence at once the charge of personal ambition as the motive of its un- tiring energy, or oflScial position as the secret of its 272 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. firm devotion to Cliurch principles, charges which had more than once been repeated. In the " Profes- sional Years," which appeared in 1836, he rose some- what higher in philosophic treatment, but even here was hampered in a way which proves the need of some later historian. " The subject and its events," he says, in his preface, " are too well known for the interest of biography and too recent for the freedom of history. It is a story, too, which can hardly, now at least, be told without compromitting both names and questions, in a way not easy to avoid reviving old offense or giving new." Yet how well he performed his delicate task friends and enemies alike testified, and I feel that I shall be forgiven the liberty in insert- ing here the following unprejudiced testimony : — White Plains, August, 1836. Reverend and dear Sir, — I cannot tell you how much I have been delighted in perusing your late work, " Professional Years of Bishop Hobart." It should indeed be, as I am sure it is, matter of joy to the Church that the character of that great man has at length been so ably portrayed that the more closely it is investigated the purer it will appear, and the longer it shall be contemplated the more it must be admired. Not having been one of the Bishop's warmest admirers during his life, I am happy to rank myself now among the number, and to add that every year's experience in the ministry strengthens my con viction of the soundness of his views and the wisdom of his pohcy. Robert Wm. Harris. Professor John McVickar. FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 273 My father was, from the first, interested in the welfare of the General Theological Seminary, and especially of its library, which was a very inadequate one for an institution holding its prominent position as the chief nursery of the Church. He was then chairman of the library and building committees of the board of trustees, and exerted himself in every way to raise the sum of ten thousand dollars for the increase and endowment of the seminary library. Drafts and memorials to Trinity Pai'ish and the Socit. ty for the Promotion of Religion and Learning, in nis hand- writing, are before me, as well as the following char- acteristic note from Bishop Doane congratulating him on his finished work : — St. Makt'8 Paksonage, Innocents' Day, 1835. Reverend and dear Brother, — From my heart I thank God that the noble enterprise of the en- dowment for the seminary library is accomplished, chiefly, so far as human agency is concerned, by your persevering energy. What a noble, generous, most magnanimous mother of us all is Trinity Church ! Peace be within her walls and plenteousness within; her palaces ! G. W. Doane. Rev. John McVickae, D. D. The work, thus satisfactorily accomplished, was aided in an unexpected manner by his memoir of Bishop Hobart. Among the many friends made in England had been Dr. W. F. Hook, the Vicar of 18 274 LIFE OF JOHN MCVJCKAR. Leeds. To him a copy of the two volumes was sent, and at the same time a letter asking him to interest himself in the proposed library endowment. This was practically answered in the affirmative by the unexpected appearance, shortly after, of an English edition of the "Early and Professional Years of Ho- bart," with a preface of thirty pages from the pen of Dr. Hook himself, containing a short historic sketch of the American Church. There was also an an- nouncement that Mr. Talboys, the publisher, had agreed to place the whole of the profits to the credit of the library of the American Church Seminary. " It had pleased God," he said, " to bless him in the basket and in the store, and he should delight in thus evincing his gratitude by showing his devotion to the holy and Apostolic Church of which he was a mem- ber." What these profits amounted to I am not now able to state, but this noble act of an English pub- lisher deserves, what we would here give it, honor- able and thankful record. Shortly before this evidence of his interest appeared, Dr. Hook writes : " I feel much interested about your library and am ready to be employed in the good cause. I consider it useless to attempt a subscription without some definite object in view\ What I pro- pose, therefore, to -do is this, to raise a subscription among my friends for the purpose of presenting you with a full set of the ' Fathers,' including the ' Bene- dictine Edition,' which I think can be purchased for X350. I have mentioned my plan to my friends, Professor Pusey, Mr. Newman of Oriel, and Mr. FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 275 Palmer, the author of the ' Origines Liturgicae,' who enter very warmly into the business, and I hope that ere long we shall be able to send a handsome present to the brethren in America." What were then the feelings of the men who, un- knowingly to themselves, were becoming the leaders of the great Church movement of the day, is evi- denced in another passage from the same letter: " But I trust that there are many with you as there are very many with us, and the number is greatly increasing, who are determined to adhere, though they die for it, to Catholic doctrine and Catholic practice, resolutely opposing Popery on the one hand, and ultra Protestantism on the other. It was, indeed, your manly avowal of these principles in your first letter that excited in me so strong a wish to aid you in the good cause you have at heart." Hugh James Rose, who, though a Cambridge man, may not unjustly be called the father of the Oxford school, writing under date of April, 1837, says of his volume of sermons on the ministry, a number of copies of which my father had ordered for presenta- tion to the students of the seminary : "It possessed no novelty, but it was put forth at a time when, at Cambridge, such doctrines had rather been talked of for a long period, and while Whatelyism was reign- ing at Oxford. So far, I trust, it may have been, by God's blessing, useful. Now, a host of able men at Oxford are advocating the same principles, and now and then pressing things to an extreme. Still, their learning, ability, and munificent disinterestedness, as 276 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. private men, must do good in the highest degree, and will give great weight to their public labors." I venture here upon a few extracts from letters of other English friends of this period, especially those of Sir Robert Inglis. From Sir Robert Inglis, September 9, 1833. . . . . " On Friday, the 6th, I went to see our venerable friend, Mrs. Hannah More, who, for some years, had retired here. [Clifton.] I found that in the preceding night a great change had taken place in her state, and she was gradually sinking. She was dying all day ; and on Saturday, the 7th, was summoned from this world. Though her mind has been eclipsed by her advancing years, — for she was in the eighty-ninth year of her life, — and though there was no longer any continuous flow of wisdom and of piety from her lips, yet the devotional habit of her days jaf health, gave even to the weakness of decay a sacred character, and her affections remained strong to the last. On Thursday last she became more evidently dying, her eyes closed, she made an effort to stretch forth her hands, and exclaimed to her favorite sister, now for many years departed, " Patty — joy." And when she could no longer articulate, her hands remained clasped as in prayer. Her very intimate friend, Mr. Harford, and I, sat by her bed- side, and in succession kissed her hand, and she in turn raised our hands to her lips. To myself it is a somewhat sino-ular circumstance, that havino; seen shortly before his death, in London, our admirable FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 277 friend, Mr. Wilberforce, and having attended his funeral, I should, at so short an interval of time, but at a distance in point of place, been permitted to see the last one of his most intimate friends, herself emi- nent as a Christian character, and with whom in- deed he had taken counsel for nearly half a century. Knowing the value you attach to both, I have no scruple in giving you these details. The mode in which Mr. Wilberforce's funeral was attended, is a bright spot in the national character, in the midst of many unfavorable symptoms. Men of all ranks, parties, and creeds, concurred in doing honor to him, — some from gratitude for his book, and some from admiration and respect for his Christian character; others, perhaps the much larger number, from sym- pathy with his views in the abolition of the slave- trade ; but still, round his grave there they all stood, united for once in one common object — two of our royal dukes who differ in politics, also the Duke of Wellington and Lord Brougham, Sir Robert Peel and Lord Althorp ; a High-churchman and a Socin- ian, a Methodist and a Roman Catholic, I must not, however, run on without thanking you for your just and eloquent tribute to another eminent though dif- ferent person. Sir Walter Scott. Sir Thomas D. Acland read parts with great effect, at the meeting held in the Mansion House, in the city of London, to promote the subscription for the purpose of securing Abbotsford to the family of Scott. 278 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. From the same, September 19, 1833. . . . . " You see that I write not about poli- tics, which yet, you may well believe, occupy me al- most day and night. The reform of Parliament is to be followed by reform of the Church ; a measure which even more than the other is connected with property ; and as property is the creature of law, anything which shakes its tenure in the hands of one class, may soon shake it in the hands of another. The law which vested half the property of the Church of Rome here, at the Reformation, in lay hands, while it vested the other half in the reformed Church, is as equally able and equally entitled to resume its grants from the lay sinecurists as it is to seize and subdivide the property which for three hundred years has been held, as it is now held, by those who, at all events, do something for it. England is indeed in a troubled state. It may please God's good providence to guard and guide us through the storm. But all analogy has proved that democracy never stops till it ends in anarchy, and anarchy is despotism. It is fearful to write these things, when we consider how much individual happiness, how much national use- fulness is at stake. We have been at once the most favored and the most ungrateful of people. But of one thing we are sure, that all things will work together for good to them who love God. Sursum FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 279 Fkom the same, February 21, 1842. " We were delighted with Bishop Doane : and in return I think he seemed well pleased with ' Old England.' His visit has left a most happy, and I think enduring impression here. I remember to have told you, at the steps of the door of Battersea Rise, that if your country could and would send such a family as yours over to us, it would do more to form and confirm the union between the two countries than a treaty made at Washington : meaning, that the Christian intercourse of leading families from the United States with our people in England would, if repeated year after year, and still more, if recipro- cated by the visits of such families, or such individuals to your shores, do more to rub off the angles where collisions might arise, than any diplomacy. In that point of view, your Bishop Doane, — why may we not call him our Bishop Doane, — was most valuable to us. May God grant that we may never be per- mitted to go to war. It would be a fearful crisis for Christendom : but we should have gone to war if a hair of Macleod's head had been touched. There are too many on both sides of the water who would urge it; on the slave question, a war would be popu- lar in England ; but I repeat it, may God direct us both to peace." Mr. John Kenyon, writing in 1843, to introduce Mr. Macready, says : — " In arranging my small library here, I put your 280 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. books on the shelves which I am fpnd of making little altars of friendly memories. You will some day, per- haps, come and see them there. " I propose that this note shall pass to you by the hands of Mr. Macready. He is a scholar and a gen- tleman in the best sense of that word, knowing, I have no doubt, many of your English friends, about whom he will tell you. I am habitually shy of giv- ing letters, and never make two persons known to each other where I do not perceive what the philoso- pher calls the ' fitness of things.' I heard Sidney Smith say the other day, speaking of your minister, who is an old friend of mine, ' One likes fitnesses, and Everett is a fitness.' " The little volume of " Family Devotions," already spoken of, was brought out from the press about this time, having for many years been used in the family in manuscript. Its Saxon purity of style, a pecul- iarity noticeable in all my father's writings, elicited, from Dr. Hook and other English friends, warm com- mendation. My father's pen was now as constantly in his hand as other duties would allow, and his reputation, not so much as an author as of a writer of wise thought and graceful language, was fairly established. The editor of the " Knickerbocker " writes to ask for oc- casional articles on his own terms, and the " New York Review " seldom appeared without at least one article from him. Dr. Wainwright, then in Boston, writes to thank him for his " First Lessons in Po- litical Economy," which he is himself using with a FOREIGN AND HOME INTERESTS. 281 youthful class, and to urge on the promised larger works in the same department. Mr. Jared Sparks writes to the same effect. The " American Quar- terly " asks for an article on the United States Bank, and the Board of Missions passes a resolution request- ing him to take the editorship of the " Spirit of Mis- sions," and in the mean time his home letters show the busy man. January 9, 1836, he writes to his eldest son : — "In Church affairs I have been prosperous. I have succeeded in the $10,000 for the seminary library, and I think in the endowment of another professorship, and at any rate in getting Whitting- ham ^ there. I wish you could hear his sermons ; they are the only ones that come up to my mark. The stereotype edition of ' Hobart's Early Years ' is out. His ' Professional ' ones, at least one volume, for they grow, will be out in a few weeks. The press is slow work, and annoys me by its delays." ^ Present Bishop of Maryland. CHAPTER XVni. COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY VARIED INTER- ESTS : 1835-1844. A LETTER from Philadelphia, dated October ■^^ 28th, 1835, gives these last memories of Bishop White : — " I called on the Bishop before church, time enough to walk with the younger ladies, the Bishop having gone before by coach very much against his inclina- tions. His preaching to-day was contrary to the urgent solicitations of his family. But as it was, their fears were unnecessary. He preached a sound, excellent sermon, heard by those, at least, who were near him, and without any ill consequences, though I think that in all probability it is his last. It was deeply interesting on that account, and his first ap- pearance as he passed from the vestry-room, leaning on a staff, for he refuses all other aid, was touching in the extreme. His patriarchal figure, and silver hair, and benevolent, tranquil features, more espe- cially as he kneeled at the altar, or sat down in his crimson, mitred chair, formed a picture worthy of the pen of Scott, or the pencil of Rembrandt." Another, written, I presume, during the same visit, though undated, touches on many points of in- terest : — COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 283 U. S. Hotel, Philadelphia, Saturday Morning. My dear Aunt, etc., — Spite of all my good resolutions, I am afraid I shall come to the practice of scribbling you a letter every morning and ruining you with postage. But Bardie says he will pay all, so here we go. Our first move yesterday morning after breakfast was through the snow to call, by appointment, upon Mr. Vaughn, who, an old bachelor of three-score years and ten, like his brother in London, lives, they say, to do good. As secretary of the Literary and Philosophical Society, his chambers are in their building. I found him with a book in his hands, in which he was ruling a line for me to write my name as a visitor of the institution. I begged him to rub it out as I always wrote crooked with such aids. I then scored my name just under, as I observed, that of Miss Martineau. This reminded me of her letter, so off we set to call upon her. On our way we stopped to see West's great picture. It is unques- tionably his best, but still, in my opinion, a moderate production. Compared with the pictures of the old mastei's, it is tame and cold both to the eye and mind. It wants power in the conception, skill in the group- ing, spirit in the expression, and brilliancy in coloring ; it is like a painstaking poet alongside of Shake- speare. I know you think this nonsense, but wait till you go to Italy and you shall judge for yourself. I take credit for saving this from destruction, for, from a broken window, the snow was driving upon it in a 284 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. way that would soon have given it at least one of the merits of the old pictures. On reaching the residence of Mr. Furniss, I sent up my card, was introduced and received by a gentle- man, who, when Miss Martineau entered a minute after, disappeared. I was agreeably impressed by her appearance and manner, her pleasing countenance, fine eye, and sweet voice. The intercourse was by the trumpet, which, after all, is not so bad. At first it was rather awkward to look in her face and speak in the trumpet, and sometimes I reversed the order, and spoke to her face and looked in the trumpet. But practice makes perfect, especially the willing scholar, so an hour made me quite an adept. What we said, Bardie heard, so, although I do not write it, you may stretch your faith and believe it was nothing wrong ; like all her country, she disdains to inquire ; she means well, however, and I gave her a little of that commodity, I so often deal in, — plain advice, — the results she is to report at the college next summer. Dined at home, and the afternoon passed at the Athenseum, which is worth a hundred of ours because people are in earnest in the support of it. At seven dressed for a ball, with two engagements between. The first was the Philosophic Society, where we met some old and made some new friends. Among them was Duponceau, who grows old. " Was I thirty years younger," said he, " I should come on to New York and ofifer myself to my sweetheart, Miss ; tell her so." — "Not I," was my answer, "for I fear COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 285 she will waive the condition, and then we lose her." Among the " bores " that I fell upon was an English doctor, who cures all with the stomach-pump, the theoiy of which he plied with such success upon me that it came near producing the natural effect, but I fortunately escaped in time. Our next visit was to the levee of a great Quaker nabob, Mr. Dunn, who opens his salon and library to company every Friday. We adjourned to it in force, Walsh, Colonel Drayton, Dr. Julius, and myself. And here I found Mr. Biddle, the head of the monster, who, taking me aside, not, as you might suppose, for the purpose of devouring me, established me in a snug corner where we had a long talk. But my own I find is too long or my paper too short, so the finale I must leave to my next, and tell you what you value most, some- thing about Bard. He is well in health and well in spirits. I put him on his mettle. To the ladies I introduce him as a young beau, to the politicians as a young diplomat, to Mr. Biddle as a young banker, and to jurists as a young lawyer, so he has to rub himself up. In truth he makes his own way well, and I think will soon be off my hands in the way of guidance. He receives as much attention as will do him good. But I am not afraid of conceit. Your fears, I know, are more awake for me than him, and though I do confess myself a little younger in some points, yet still, for good, I trust I shall never be old. Since life is thought, then think I will That youth and I are housemates still. A happy Christmas again to you and all my dear children. J. McV. 286 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. The vacation life at Constableville, during these busy years, was all that could be desired. It gives a happy and gratifying picture of successfal efforts on the part of my father to assume among his children a mother's duties as well as his own. Writing to Miss Bard in 1834, he says : — " Comforts accumulate the longer we stay. The piano arrived in perfect order, and is a great addition to our pleasures. As it came on Saturday evening, its first use was its best, that of a hymn of thanks- giving on Sunday morning, which is now a regular part of our morning devotions, in which our children all unite with, I believe, heartfelt sincerity." In 1835, to the same : — " Our habits are domestic as usual. After reading I go out of my room about seven o'clock, prayers and • breakfast by eight, housekeeping and music for girls till about ten. I will not say that we always get down to reading aloud and drawing so soon as that, for H has fixed up his target, and, with the Swiss bows and arrows which have just arrived, there is a strong temptation to pass half an hour in archery, but down to reading we get at last, while some draw and others work. We shall soon take up the ' Life of Mackintosh ' and the new Reviews. By one o'clock there is some ride in agitation or perhaps already in execution, and by two or half past we are ready to obey the dinner bell. Our afternoons are more di- versified, and music, reading, and the hay-field, or a little good hard work carry on the day. After tea we adjourn to the north parlor, where is our sofa COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 287 and piano, both of which are, I assure you, in good use." In 1836, also to the same : — " We have just finished reading the ' Life of Mackintosh.' It has both raised and lowered my opinion of him. Few men have labored more stren- uously against constitutional indolence. He had great kindness of heart, but he lived too much on others' good opinions to be esteemed a great man. " Yesterday I took an exploring turn to the limits of settlement on the hills. Knowing that there was a school-house there I took a bundle of tracts, etc., for premiums, but unfortunately found neither mis- tress nor scholars there. It did not prevent me, how- ever, giving a silent lesson. In the middle of the room stood a table, with a terrific rod standing erect in it, stuck in a hole for that purpose. I took away the rod, and in its place substituted my pile of little books." These were days of happy refreshment, and they were needed, for sorrow and bereavement were again knocking at the door. Samuel Bard McVickar, my father's eldest son, was a young man of uncommon promise. From a large class in Columbia he had carried off, each year, the gold medal of superiority in everything, and, in 1835, had graduated with the highest honors of the college. During the tour for health and recreation, which followed shortly on his graduation, preparatory to entering on a position of trust which had already been offered to him, he was taken ill. A few lines from my father show the 288 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. spirit with which such news was then and ever re- ceived by him : — My very dear Son, — I write this in humble con- fidence in a gracious Father, that you are well enough to relieve us of our great anxiety, but, sick or well, H comes to entertain you and nurse you, and bring you back again, if that is thought best, well and happy. I comfort myself and all around me with that Word which is our comfort in sorrow, and, I trust, our guide in health. " I will not be afraid of evil tidings ; my heart standeth fast and believeth in the Lord." .... God bless you, my dear son ; all send prayers and good wishes, and if these might avail you, your sickness would soon be past, and I trust they do prevail and that you are w-ell. So prays Your aifectionate father, J. McV. Two years of uncertain health were granted, when, on another absence from home in search of healthful occupation, the following message had to be sent by an absent father, who had not been able to reach his bed- side of severe illness as early as others of the family. " Should he yet be spared to your tender cares say to him that my blessing rests upon him, and that I am hastening to him ; that my comfort, like his, is not of this world ; and that I part with him as a child called home from wandering in a weary land." He was again spared to reach the home circle at Constableville, but nothing more. He lingered COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 289 awhile amid scenes whose retrospect is filled with spiritual happiness, and then passed away. The calm but sorrowing circle thus broken again, was soon joined by one who felt that all its sorrows as well as joys belonged of right to her, the venerable Miss Sally Bard, whose acquaintance the reader has already made in the course of these pages. She was now in her eighty-second year, and it had been con- sidered that the journey, a long and toilsome one at that time, was too much for her strength and years. Staying at Hyde Park, her anxiety for one whom she regarded as a son, had been very harrowing; but when the blow came, as always seemed her experi- ence, faith spread its shield, and it fell in blessings. The following is the entry in her diary after hearing the sad news : ' — '■'•August 12, 1837. — After my above anxious ut- terances of yesterday, I received from my dear Mr. McVickar, that his beloved son was at rest, more than at rest, in the happiness of paradise. All his sickness, pain, and struggles over, all now joy, and peace, and thanksgiving. O let us dwell upon His mercies who gave us such children, who, in life and death, were equally a blessing to us. I pray that their heaven-supported father may be long sheltered under the wings of his Saviour, for the guidance and comfort of his remaining children, before he is called away to perfect happiness above. And, for myself, with a grateful heart I praise thy holy name, for the peace I feel within me, thy Peace^ let me not be presumptuous in believing, for it surely is not my own." 19 290 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. My father, feeling her lonehness, separated from those she most loved, went at once to Hyde Park, and finding her not only willing but anxious to at- tempt the journey, immediately returned with her. On the 22d, in clear and beautiful handwriting, she makes the following entry in her diary : — " I am once more at Turin, returned from Hyde Park with my dear Mr. McVickar ; the fatigue was less than I expected, and I have the comfort of being again with my beloved family and received by my dear children with surprise and joy ; but O, how I missed one dear face, ever lit up with smiles to receive and welcome me. Yet, let me contrast his present happiness with all this world could give, in its brightest forms, and, instead of repining, bow with heartfelt gratitude to Him who, in mercy, took him from pain and disease and all the vicissitudes and trials of this life, an early offering to his Saviour, to live with Him in endless felicity, and, I trust, to be in sweet communion with beloved ones gone be- fore." This entry in her diary — a diary of twenty-six years — was the last she ever made. Though appar- ently in her usual health when she arrived, she soon began to fail, and within a few weeks passed calmly away, to enter upon the reality of those blessings which had so long been hers through faith, and to rejoin the many loved ones whose peaceful departure she had witnessed. Thus broke away, within a few weeks of each other, from the home-circle, the first-born son, whose COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 291 opening promise of twenty-three summers was such a bond upon the future, and the aged, motherly aunt, of eighty-two years, whose sympathies in times gone by so bound my father to the past. That he felt both losses deeply, though so different in their character, is unquestioned, but the chief way he showed it was in an increased devotion to the daily duties of his actively useful life. At the invitation of the Alumni Association of Columbia College, he delivered before them, in Octo- ber of this year, an address which " The New York American " characterizes as " one of the happiest efforts of one of our best writers." Though several subjects are introduced, among them a sketch of the life and character of his predecessor in the chair of Moral Philosophy, the Rev. Dr. Bowden, the evident object of the address is to urge the establishment, by an Alumni endowment, of a Professorship of the Evi- dences of Christianity. The matter, in its proposed form, came to nothing, but in substance it was a suc- cess, my father having, with the permission of the trustees, immediately, without compensation, assumed the duties. He continued them until the readjust- ment of the chairs of the college in 1857, when that of the " Evidences " was not only made distinct, but placed first in the list, and my father appointed its first professor. Written over thirty years ago, this address suggests principles in the study of the Evidences, the truth and importance of which the scientific advances of 292 LIFE OF JOHN MCVWKAR. to-day have simply settled. Witness the following short extracts : — " The truth of the Bible is a question of evidence cumulative ; not only does its testimony come from every quarter of human knowledge, but it grows and advances with it. It stands, therefore, among the sciences of progressive discovery; day by day its limits are enlarging ; its materials accumulating, and its arguments strengthening. There is no science but brings tribute to it, no branch of learning but bears fruit for it, no discovery, whether of ancient or modern research, but throws some new light upon it. The astronomer, as he watches in the heavens nebulas of light centring into suns ; the geologist, as he demonstrates out of organic remains the progressive order of creation ; the naturalist, in detecting the edible grasses growing wild on the mountains of Central Asia; the historian, as he traces up the origin of nations to their common cradle ; the philol- ogist, in folloMang up affiliated languages till at last they stand side by side, alike and yet different, like dissevered rocks which some great organic convulsion of nature had split asunder, leaving an unbridged chasm ; the ancient scholar, recovering some lost passage of Berosus, verifying the Mosaic record; the antiquarian, reestablishing, by means of a coin, the impeached veracity of St. Paul, — all bear upon the Bible, and require in the teacher as varied learn- ing to keep pace with the progress of science, and to collect, arrange, and enforce its scattered evidences." " All truth is one, and, come from what source it COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY, ETC. 293 may, can never be at variance with itself. As with the rays of solar light, so with those of truth. How- ever bent or reflected, they are traceable back to one centre ; however colored, they are still but elements of one primitive, pure beam. With our limited powers of vision, we see truth but in fragments, and to them give the name of varied sciences ; but could we, from some loftier stand, take them all in at one comprehensive glance, we would see them to be but parts of one great science — but radii of one circle, of which nature is the circumference, and God the centre." During these years, which were, in truth, among the most actively employed and influential of my father's life, I find myself, as his biographer, reduced to very scanty material. Bundles of letters from foreign and home correspondents, especially from Sir Robert Inglis and Archbishop Whately, suggest sources of information which it has been found im- possible to obtain. I therefore confine myself to the few salient points of interest which appear above the natural level of a very busy academic and Church- society life. Among these stands out with some prominence the question of the Christian character of the philosophy of Coleridge. Coleridge and his philosophy were becoming at that time as nearly popular, both in England and this country, as such a writer and such subjects can ever be. Not that all agreed with him or even understood him, but he was read widely and his works were pro- ducing considerable influence, especially on youthful 294 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. thinkers. The " Aids to Reflection " had been brought to the notice of the American public in 1829 by an edition published at Burlington, Vt., with a thoughtful Preliminary Essay by Dr. Marsh, of the University of Vermont. The "Churchman," of New York, then ably edited by Dr. Seabury, had given in its almost unconditional approval to both Coleridge and his school of thought. My father, too, was an admirer of much that he had written, and of the high spiritual tone of his philosophy ; but he was never a wholesale approver of any human system, and in this of Coleridge he thought he saw much of danger to the simplicity of Christian faith. He therefore unhesitatingly sounded the note of warning, and wrote for the columns of the " Churchman " strictures on what he thought was a " communica- tion " too indiscriminate in its praise. The supposed communication turned out to be from the editorial pen, and my father thus found himself involved in what is always hazardous, an editorial controversy. The following opening of his next communication will show how wisely and delicately he conducted it, while it may give us a lesson which the controver- sialists of the present day would do well to study : — Mr. Editor, — Had I recognized your pen in the recent eulogium in your paper on ' The Cole- ridge Philosophy,' I had probably been more cautious of entering on that contested field, as I esteem it alike discourteous and unsafe to attack an editor in his own columns. It is not, therefore, in acceptance COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 295 of your chivalric challenge that I renew the subject. Because you look at the golden side of the image and I at the brazen is no reason why, knight-errant- like, we should draw swords on that grave question ; at least not until we have looked on both sides, and settled by mutual examination whether the precious or the baser metal preponderates in the image that has been set up, and before which some are but too well inclined, when they hear the trumpet sounded, to fall down and worship. Nor shall we, I think, differ in our conclusions, for I never yet knew difference in men's estimate of things to be more than skin-deep, provided there was equal knowledge and sincerity — the latter qualification for peace I am sure there is ; to attain the /ormer, I herewith give you my views on the subject, in order that, if incorrect, they may be amended, or if imperfect, enlarged ; being fully satisfied of the general conclusion that they who mean well, end, in the long run, in thinking right. The concludino; lines of this communication sug- gest the danger which, in spite of his own admira- tion, was ever present to my father's mind in con- nection with the works of Coleridge, and the fear of which led him, perhaps, into some unphilosophic statements : — " I fear, Mr. Editor, this error ; that of leading the unlearned to think that human philosophy is to come in aid of Scriptural revelation, and that the education of the Christian is to be esteemed imper- fect till he has been taught to fathom the depths of 296 LIFE OF JOHN McyJCKAR. Coleridge or the bottomless abstractions of the Ger- man school." There is a confusion here which displays the weak point in my father's side of this argument. Because the education of the Christian, as' such, may not be deemed imperfect through ignorance of human phi- losophy, it does not, therefore, follow, as he maintains, that human philosophy may not come to the aid of Scriptural revelation. Philosophy and revelation are as two parallel streams : the former fed by innumer- able tributaries does still, left to itself, lose itself in the sands of finite speculation ; while the latter, issu- ing from a single spring, flows undiminished into the eternal rock. Unite them in their early course, and revelation, as well as philosophy, is the gainer : hu- man philosophy, by being preserved from ultimate failure ; and revelation, by being brought to sweeten and strengthen new and lifeless soils. It would seem as if Coleridge maintained the first of these, as I believe, erroneous propositions, that " revelation needs philosophy ; " while my father, in combating it, fell somewhat into the second, that " philosophy can give no aid to revelation." But he was a real lover of all true philosophy, and hence of all the philosophic truths of Cole- ridge, and it grieved him to see, as he thought, the streams of his influence perverted. This led to a second American edition of the " Aids to Reflection," with a preliminary essay by himself. In it he gives all due honor to Dr. Marsh, the former editor, but maintains that Coleridge cannot be properly under- COLERIDGE AND HIS PHILOSOPHY. 297 stood, or his philosophy wisely studied, except in the light of the faith of the Church of England, of which he was a conscientious member. This was true, but the pressing of it offended minds that were philosophic rather than religious, and gave rise to considerable controversy, and perhaps laid my father open to the charge of some inconsistency. Henry Nelson Coleridge, the literary executor and first editor of his uncle's works, writing under date of April, 1840, says, " Your preface is very spirited, eloquent, and likely to popularize the volume to readers generally, especially to such of tliem as are members of the Church of Eno-land." And ao;ain in August, 1840, " I confess I greatly regret the party character which seems to have attached itself to the two editions to the ' Aids to Reflection.' S. T. C.'s personal habits and sympathies were those of a member of the Church of England ; but his support of it will be found in principle and by influence, and not so much in direct advocacy or defense." I turn from this little cloud of litex'ary controversy, which was to my father neither common nor con- genial, to give a single home letter of this period to show how fully, when absent, he strove to contribute to that fund of family cheerfulness which was ever with him as well a promoter as an evidence of Chris- tian faithfulness ; — Tremont House, Boston, Tuesday. Before I can sleep in peace I must have a little chat with those I love best, that What we enjoy they 298 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. may enjoy too. So now for our journey. Our boat was a splendid one, the afternoon delightful ; F ■ in good humor, I not in bad, so we get on pretty well. And it was well that we were something to each other, for there was nobody else to be anything to us — not a face I had seen before or ever care to see again. Mr. Goodhue had told me of a Mr. Jackson, of Lowell, on board, whom I would find intelligent, and described him as a gentleman with green specta- cles. As a matter of curiosity, not because I needed him, F and I speculated for him among our fellow-passengers. There were two competitors for the description, — each near it. One a bandy-legged, long-bodied man, whose fingers came within twelve inches of the deck, with white spectacles and large, green blinders, like a horse that is apt to be fright- ened ; the other gaunt and tall with glasses, however blue, rather than green. What between their physi- ognomies and their dubious claims, I did not trouble them with a new acquaintance. On going to pay our passage I found the captain's window barred by a new obstacle. An old woman, in paying her fare, whether from hardness of hearing or anxiety to see that her change was right, had climbed up, forced head and shoulders through, and when I reached it hung about fairly balanced, half in and half out, while the impatient crowd around waiting for their turn were about in an equal balance which way they should help her To make up old scores, I lay late this morning, and on reaching the parlor, found Dr. Wainwright and his VARIED INTERESTS. 299 daughter awaiting our appearance. F came out at the same time, and we had plenty of talk while a nice breakfast was making ready, which (I would add for the reputation of our health) we greatly enjoyed. Our kind friend, Mr. Ward, had last night planned Lowell for us to-day ; so at eleven he called, in his carriage with his daughter, for us and Mr. Stevens, who, with his two boys, made up the party. We joined the cars at the bridge, set off like the wind, and uncommoded by noise, dust, or ill-humor, and having got but half through a good, long, cheerful argument upon which we had entered, we found ourselves twenty-five miles from Boston, in the midst of this little "Manchester" of six years' growth. Though composed entirely of factories and the dwell- ings of the operatives, I beg you not to think it either dirty or disagreeable. I assure you it is neither ; but neat, clean, and airy. The young girls were just marshaling back to the mills in troops and bands, looking cheerftil and healthy. But factories are things you care nothing about and I not much, that is to say, out of political economy. So after a nice little dinner, we resumed our seats at three o'clock in our flying vehicle, and a few minutes after four were aorain at home, thus having in less than five hours travelled over fifty miles, visited as many manufac- turing rooms, eaten a quiet, comfortable dinner, and had two hours of unrestrained, hearty talk, and all without fatigue. So much for the march of improve- ment ! Mrs. Webster, I forgot to tell you, I called on this morning. She set off for New York an hour 800 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. after, and expressed much regret on F 's account. After escorting F to Mrs. Wainwright's, where was a little party of young folks, my engagements were to sit an hour with Mr. Bowditch, and an hour or two more with one of their scientific clubs. With Mr. Bowditch I was delighted ; he reminded me strongly of Dr. Rush in look and manner ; cheerful, intelligent, and warm-hearted, I could hardly break away, and have promised to call again. The club they call the " Old Club." It is one of the applications of the epithet with which I will not quarrel — but — good-night — with every prayer of love for you all — good-night. Such is a letter both unsigned and undated, though belonging to about this period, which is characteristic of the happy way in which, when absent, my father made those that were left behind to feel that they were not forgotten, and thus ever to insure for him- self a hearty welcome home, — a home which, from this time forth for eight long years, was to have in it the room of the helpless, though bright and cheerful invalid. Never was a sick-room that had a happier influence, and my father, like all others who strove to brighten its inmate, had to confess that more was received than given. Yet this was but the true reflection of his own teaching. Absent from home when the stroke of threatened illness came, he writes to the one thus afllicted : " Life passes quickly, and what does it leave behind worth having, but a Christian's peace and hope. Bear up, then, my dear daughter ; all is for the best to those who sub- VARIED INTERESTS. 301 mit themselves in faith. The clay before us is our life. What to-morrow will bring forth, whether health or sickness, who knows save He who orders all for the final good of those who love and trust Him." In obituary notices, whether of the tongue or pen, my father was remarkably happy, and ever ready at the call of friendship. The following from an ex- tempore address in moving the resolutions of re- spect on the death of Rev. Dr. Bayard will help to fill out his portrait in this respect, and recall to many the mingled grace and earnestness of his public speak- ing;: — . . . . " The impression, Mr. Chairman, our friend ever left was that of a true-hearted man, the rarest and the noblest picture which our formalized, degenerate days can exhibit. There was in him a certain honest simplicity and right-mindedness which gave fearlessness to the whole character — the union, I might almost say, of the child and the lion. But what I may well say is, that it was, in human measure, * that single eye ' which our Lord had blessed, and of which the promise was, in our friend, in due meas-' ure, fulfilled, that ' the whole body should be full of light.' His heart it was that doubled the powers of his head, and the sincerity and directness of his speech went home to the conviction, even beyond his argument. Now, Mr. Chairman, far beyond all intellectual power do I honor, nay, reverence such a man ; for, inasmuch as the primal curse of our na- ture was the severance of the conscience from the 302 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. reason, and of the heart from the head of man, so too do I seem to see in every such instance of true- hearted character, the type of man's better nature appearing, the anticipated restoration rather, through grace, of the once defaced image of God in our souls. " I have said that sincerity doubled his powers. The assertion reminds me of the reply of Mirabeau in reference to one whom he feared, ' I stand in awe,' said he, ' of that man, for he believes every word that he says.' Now, such was our lamented brother. He spoke not the word that he believed not, there- fore were his words living words, and had power, for they came home to our inner and better nature. He ever spoke what he thought, and he thought what his conscience made him feel to be true, and right, and just. No man, therefore, doubted him, no man distrusted him, no honest heart ever feared him, and no kind and good heart, that knew him, but loved him. Such was our lamented friend in my eyes ; and in the course of an experience, now not a short one, never have I met with a man who bore more visibly stamped upon him, what with rev- erence I may term Heaven's broad seal — the stamp of Truth." It was in the year 1843 that my father, as su- perintendent of the " Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning," brought forward, with the approbation of the Society, his " plan for ministerial education." Up to this time, the funds of the So ciety, and of the Church, had been distributed by VARIED INTERESTS. 303 favor, to what Avere called " beneficiaries," young men recommended by others as fit recipients of the Church's aid. This was, by the proposed plan, changed in principle, and all aid was henceforth to be given only to " scholars " who had borne off the prize in open competition among those whose other- wise good character had admitted them to the trial. The system was not to stop at the Seminary, where a room, free education, and two hundred dollars a year was the prize ; this, by special agreement, was to be competed for in a number of our first class colleges ; while free education at these same colleges, and a one hundred dollar stipend, was set before the schools ; and in the schools themselves, fi'ee education and forty dollars a year was an open* prize to the best scholar among those whose parents desired them to look to the Church as their pro- fession. This " plan," Avith such modifications as the practical experience of its working has rendered necessary, has ever since been the system of the *' Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learn- ing," whose wisely administered and largely increased funds has made it so efficient a helper to Church education in the State of New York. There is one feature, however, which seems to have been en- tirely dropped, and the neglect of which is suffi- cient to account for the burden of the society's annual complaint against the parishes that they take so little interest in aiding by their contributions the spread and increase of its efficient labors. This feature is provided for in the fourth section of the adopted plan — as follows : 304 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR. " Of the parochial collections or contributions of the diocese, required by canon, one half thereof, if desired by the parish, to be annually funded by the society and placed to the credit of the contributing church, towards the foundation of a perpetual schol- arship, to be known forever, when completed, under the name of said church, and the presentation to be vested in its rector or corporation, subject, as above, to the rules and regulations of the society." In enlarging upon this feature of the plan in the columns of the " Churchman," he maintains, — " 1. That it will identify the interests of ministerial education with the interests and feelings of the diocese at large. And, 2. That it will lead to the estab- lishment of the higher classical schools in connection with parishes and under the control of their respect- ive rectors." And in speaking of its ultimate results, he says : — " Thus no parish in the diocese will be without its organized parochial school ; no school without its perpetual scholarship, no scholarship without its openly tried and worthy scholar ; and no scholar in any part of the diocese, however poor or destitute of friends, but seeing before him through these open prizes, the path of advancement up to the very por- tals of the Church he loves, provided he can but make good his superior claims, step by step, in open competition. " But if in derogation of such glowing picture^ it be objected that it is a far distant one, the church- man's answer is : Nothing is far distant in the policy VARIED INTERESTS. 305 of the Church that is progressive and certain. As the Church has no Hmited duration, so neither is the question of time to determine her course. All that is needed for the Church's decision is, that her plans be true in principle, and that they work for- ward on the great moving springs of our nature. All the rest she leaves in confidence to God's bless- ing, who demands from man the use of means, but not the results of them." " No. 8 College Green," the old familiar city resi- dence of Professor McVickar, where he lived for forty years, until the college buildings were pulled down, and the goodly home and academic neighborhood of Park and College Place given up to business, was the scene of much pleasant and intellectual society. " The Club," as it was called and familiarly known by old New Yorkers, met there regularly in its appointed turn. It was a dignified assemblage, as I remember , it in my youthful days, confined to twelve members, and composed of such men as Peter Jay, Judge Kent, Dr. John A. Smith, etc., and the rule of the club that each member may bring to the meeting one distinguished stranger, insured always sufficient novelty to keep the conversation fresh, and make this weekly gathering one of real Interest. At one of these meetings at our house, the present Ex- Emperor of France was a guest, and I have often heard my father tell in a tone of amusement, of his serious use on that occasion of the followino^ argu- ment against the employment of paper money, in his somewhat broken English : " I go out shooting, I 20 306 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. load my gun, I put my hand in my pocket for a wad, I ram it down, I fire off my gun, and then I say, Bah ! I've fired off ten dollars." And this at a time w^hen ten-dollar bills were not plentiful with the ambitious adventurer, whose subsequent course has drawn so marked a line over the historic page of Europe. Letters of introduction from English friends also brought to that old house pleasant guests. Charles Dickens was the bearer of such a letter from Mr. John Kenyon, a short extract from which will be of interest, as giving the English estimate of this great author, in 1841, and more especially as telling us something about Mrs. Dickens, whose misfortune it would seem to have been to be a retiring, simple- minded lady. . . . " My object in this is to introduce to yourself and family, including my young friend Henry, your son, who should come and see us again, Mr. and Mrs. Dickens. I will say nothing of him of whom all Europe, and further countries, ring from side to side, — as they ought, of a man who employs so much genius in the service of all humanities and all generosities, — but would more particularly intro- duce Mrs. Dickens to you as one of those unpresuming spirits who will make no claims for herself. And one claim which I will make for her is, that she is the granddaughter of Mr. Thomson of Edinburgh, still alive, the dear and kindly friend of him who had few peers among men of genius, (Coleridge used, I re- member, to put him as one of the four great poets of VARIED INTERESTS. 307 the world) — of Burns. They are going southward, where I have no friends. What I wish to procm'e for them on their journey is not the opportunity of gay society, of which they will have more than enough, but to give them, and more particularly Mrs. Dick- ens, the opportunity of knowing a few quiet, friendly persons, who will offer quiet conversation and any in- formation which may be useful, more particularly to a lady travelling in a new country." CHAPTER XIX. CHAPLAINCY DUTIES: 1844-1862. "IV/r Y father had now reached his fifty-sixth year ; a -^"-■- time of Hfe when most men, if they do not think of rest, do still hesitate about adding to their work. Yet we find him this year accepting the chaplaincy of Fort Columbus in the harbor of New York. He had always been fond of parochial work, and was not only ever ready to assist his brother clergy- men, but constantly went out of his way to do so ; generally singling out those, whether young or old, whom he had reason to believe were over- worked. A friend and relative knowing his feelings in this re- spect, and being also acquainted with the officers of this post, mentioned his name and secured his appoint- ment. This unexpected proffer of missionary work, for it was really such, the performance of which Avas rendered possible by residence at the post not being required, came during the college vacation, and my father accepted and entered upon it at once. He probably never gave a thought to the possibility of its concerning any one but himself. But to the College authorities it appeared differently, and some pressure was brought to bear upon him to induce him to give CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 309 it up, as inconsistent with his professorial position and the niles of the college. This he stoutly refused to do, and said he would resign his professorship rather than the chaplaincy with its hard work among the sol- dier's, and its seven hundred dollars a year salary. The old professor, for he had long been the senior mem- ber of the board, and had now held his chair for over a quarter of a century, triumphed ; but by some the offense was never forgiven. It was a case where the official red tape failed to appreciate the presence of a higher law. To have insisted on the professor resigning this work, thus undertaken with the most disinterested motives, would have been to injure his moral self-respect, and thus cause a disadvantage to the college greater than any distraction of thought or absorption of leisure time caused by the new duty. This at least was true of a professor of his years and standing, whatever it might be in the case of one just entering on his duties. .Fort Columbus was then the great recruiting depot of the United States army, and its chaplain was thus brought in contact with the soldier when most sus- ceptible to his influence. His quarters, unneeded for residence, were soon made the receptacle of lend- ing and gift libraries, for the replenishing of which nearly every publisher in the city was put under con- tribution, and most of whom gladly responded. Not • a soldier left the post under orders without the offer of a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer ; and not an officer who had shown interest in his services, without being taken to his quarters and made to 310 LIFE OF JOHN M'^VICKAR. select some work from the library as a memento of their intercourse. On first entering upon his duties, the chaplain found no place set apart for public worship, except the large room used on week-days as the busmess office of the post ; and on several Sundays business requirements forced them to vacate even this and go to an inconvenient upper room for service. This quickly determined him to make an effort for a chapel, but he found the matter surrounded with ap- parently insurmountable difficulties. Government was not accustomed to build chapels ; nor was it will- ing either to make an appropriation for the purpose, or to allow others, even if prepared, to build on gov- ernment ground. But there was determined perse- verance on the one side, and probably friends at court on the other ; not least among the latter being the then commander-in-chief of the army, General Scott. The result was a personal lease from the gov- ernment of about one hundred and fifty feet square, on the south side of the island, subject to the exigen- cies of war ; and within the year, the completion of a most tasteful and church-like building of wood, after my father's own plans, and from funds given and collected by himself. Writing to his eldest son, then a missionary near Lake George, he says : — " My church goes on beautifully. It grows upon me every time I see it. It has, beyond any little church I know, the two elements I want in a rural house of God — humility and reverence. These are both strongly awakened, and when summer CHAPLAINCY DUTIES, 311 comes you cannot imagine a more beautiful spot. It is true it is something against architectural rule, but I have chosen to work rather with the ' elements ' than under ' models,' and thus to work out the same problem by original methods. I look to the effect, and work it out as I can. This is great talk for a little church, but I think you will like it. As to cost, it will sum up when finished to near $2,500. What I can raise by the help of friends I will ; what I cannot I must bear, and hold it a consecrated gift, laid on God's altar, a trespass-offering for years of over-de- votion to the acquisition of wealth." This last sentence seems to demand some word of explanation, for if my father be right in representing his life as one of " over-devotion to the acquisition of wealth," then is his biographer at fault in failing, as he knows he has, in so presenting it. But the truth of the case is this. My father, as a political econo- mist, had a clear and far-seeing head in all matters of business, which sometimes led him to make invest- ments which required more business devotion than he ever considered himself justified, as a clergyman, in giving to them, and which, on this very account, became sources of annoyance and perplexity. A ^ case in point was his purchase of the whole north • side of Union Square in this city, at the time of the * laying out of that square. He saw clearly its future importance, but he did not, perhaps, sufficiently cal- culate the heavy drain from taxes and assessments which must precede the attainment of its present value, a yearly rental, within thirty years, of more 312 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. than what the property then cost. The worry and anxiety connected with this purchase, which he was not able to hold, and some speculative investments made in the West, is translated by him into " over- devotion to the acquisition of wealth," and brings forth the following self-condemnatory reflections writ- ten out at the close of his account book in 1845 : — Thoughts on closing this Account Book or fifteen Yeahs. College, February 3, 1845. I am glad to be able to close my eyes, not, I trust, my penitential thoughts, on this long arrear of world- liness and grasping desire of wealth, by transferring to a new book the few accounts that yet remain un- settled. The most of them, after tantalizing for a while with a restless show of profit, terminated in disappointment, and some in lawsuits. All the sor- rows of my life from all other causes have not, I think, equaled those from this single source, namely, the speculative purchases into which I was led by persuasion, or perhaps self-prompted, in the years 1835, 1836, and 1837 ; as I verily believe they have brought upon me deeper guilt than any or all other temptations united. God be thanked, that I have survived the shock, the trial, and the disgrace, and that a remnant of days is yet spared me, vvith an humbler mind and higher hopes, and that God has at length called me to a spiritual charge wherein I may show the sincerity of my faith and repentance. Through Christ may that call be blessed to me and those to whom I minister. Amen. So be it. J. McV. CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 313 It is but riglit, as regards a just judgment of my father in this matter, to state that these " Western speculations " were entered into principally to give occupation to the invalid son whose death was lately noticed, and it was his death which threw the whole burden of their care upon one necessarily absent and fully engaged in other duties. But to return to the little chapel at Governor's Island and the interests that centred around it. The war with Mexico breaking out at this time increased greatly the difficulties to be overcome. These were fully appreciated, as the following ex- tract from a letter shows, on the army side : — " To me, and I believe all of us, the interest of the Church is greatly enhanced by its erection in war times on the very scene of active preparation for dis- tant service. It seems a happy omen of those times when war shall be known no more. That it is fairly erected and completed seems to me almost a miracle, and to you, dear sir, it must seem almost a creation. It has taught me a lesson in the power of faith and perseverance that I trust I shall never forget. Those of us who knew the peculiar and tormenting dis- couragementj^ under which you labored, and which deemed to us insurmountable, cannot too highly ap- preciate a labor which not only benefits Governor's Island but the whole army.'* An officer, writing from the far-off field of battle, says : " I am much pleased to hear of your final and complete success in building a church on the island, and shall place my small donation in your hands at 314 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. i the first good opportunity. May its hallowed walls echo back strains of pure devotion from the hearts and lips of its fortunate attendants, and may its erection prove the means of turning many from the power of Satan unto God. If it shall be my privi- lege to return again to the United States, it will arouse no ordinary feelings of emotion in my heart to enter into the courts of our little sanctuary, and there to join the voice of prayer and praise to Him who is the God of dangers and of protection. Be so kind, my dear sir, in your next letter, as to describe its position and its form, even in details." Fort Columbus, as has been said, was the great recruiting depot of the army ; the numbers, therefore, that came under the chaplain's notice in war times was greatly increased. As the common soldier is not generally considered very impressible, we may judge somewhat of the spiritual power of the work centring round this little chapel by knowing that it received several bequests from common soldiers dying in the hospitals of Mexico. The circle of its influence was a large one. The regiments were often changed, and when they were, a practical symbolism was enlisted to give permanency to the spiritual impressions already made. The communi- cants among the commissioned officers were assem- bled by the chaplain and requested to choose a Bible text which should be the motto of their regiment, this was then inscribed, with proper device and color, on a metal shield, with the name of the regiment, and solemnly hung on the walls of the chapel, a CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 315 binding link to the absent, a suggestive subject of reflection to the present worshippers. In July, 1849, writing to an absent son, my father says : " The little Church of St. Cornelius is grow- ing in historic interest as well as beauty. The three successive commands of the island have all their mementos on its walls, — texts selected by them, with appropriate shields ; and what is more satisfac- tory yet, I never had better attendance from the officers. College is now over ; president and all but Dr. Anthon gone ; we shall probably be quiet, and, with my island, not without work. Trinity Church, too, will be a resource ; I have supplied the duty there for the last two days ; I shall resume Ger- man, too, and look over my college notes. At any rate, ars longa. No difficulty in finding something to do." An interesting episode occurred after the close of the Mexican War in the encampment, for a time, on the Island, of what was called the California Regi- ment of Colonel Stevenson. This was a semi-mili- tary colony, under government patronage, going to take practical possession of the newly acquired terri- tory of California. The proposed expedition aroused all my father's clear-sighted zeal, both for the com- monwealth and the Church. He saw how much of the future of California, civil and ecclesiastical, might depend on the character and moral impetus of these men. He knew that they were mostly adventurers, but he never doubted the germ of goodness within. He worked among them untiringly, and before they 816 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. sailed, — they were going by the six months' voyage round the Horn, — he persuaded them to elect a chap- lain, determine on daily prayers on shipboard, and take the nominal position at least of a God-fearing body. The American Bible Society and the New York Bible and Common Prayer Book Society were brought into requisition to enable him to make dis- tribution to every man of a Bible and, to every one that desired it, a Prayer Book. This distribution was made the occasion of a farewell address, which, at the request of the officers, was printed and dis- tributed among the men as a memento of home, for California was then a terra incognita, and felt to be, as it really was, very far away. The address was earnest and powerful throughout, and in parts, as in the following, rises to eloquence : — " Even while I thus speak do I see her, the ven- erable Genius of our Anglo-Saxon land, the common mother of us all. I see her rise up from her watery throne, where she sits embosomed amid the peaceful fleets of an unbounded commerce, to bid you, her armed sons, farewell. I see her followed in dim pro- cession by a long train of patriots, and heroes, and Christian men, — men who not only here but in older lands have toiled and fought and bled, not for con- quest, but for right ; not for license, but for law, and that they might build up for posterity that which we here enjoy, a fair and, I trust, an enduring fabric of constitutional freedom. I see her form, I hear her words, and mine, believe me, are their faithftd echo. CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 817 " ' Go forth,' she says, ' my well-armed sons — the sword in yom* hands, but peace in your hearts, and justice in your deeds. Go forth from this, my favored land, to bless those to which you go. Remember that you bear a widely honored name. It has ever been a lineage of faith and virtue, of courage and gentleness, of peace, of order, and of religion. Such has it been in the Old World ; such in the heroic times of the New. Let not its fair fame be tarnished, or its institutions defamed by unfilial hands or un- worthy tongues. As you bear your country's ensign, so, remember, do you your country's honor. Let not the name of American citizen ever receive a blot through you. Let it not be said, that with Americans, might was the measure of right, or that gold out- weighed justice, or that the soldier's sword made heavy the scale of a vanquished enemy's ransom. Rather let that name be known as one of blessing wherever it is heard, even as that of a teacher appointed of Heaven to instruct the nations of the earth ; to exhibit to the world the living proof how liberty may dwell united with law, how individual freedom may stand linked together with public order, and Christian faith in the nation walk hand and hand with an unfettered private conscience.' " For the interests of the Church in the new terri- tory, my father was equally clear-sighted. A letter from the quartermaster-general of the army informs him that his request has been granted, and that free passage will be given to two missionaries for California and Oreo-on. If the Church could have 318 LIFE OF JOHN M<^V1CKAR. risen to the duty then pressed upon her, and conse- crated a Whipple or a Morris as a bishop for tlie Pa- cific slope, and sent him, with two or three mission- aries, to plant the good seed in the hearts of the chil- dren, and buttress the future Church with the waste acres that then surrounded the half-populated towns, the churches of California and Oregon might ere this have vied with the East in the missionary work of the centre of the Continent. The following from Bishop Chase, two years after, shows how earnestly those efforts were continued, and how fully they were appreciated by one who had the largest experience in western missions : — Robin's Nest, III., March 17, 1849. My dear Sir, — Yesterday the " Banner of the Cross " reached us here in the far West, and few things gave me more pleasure to read, than the report of the General Missionary Society on the subject of California. Your name as the chairman of that com- mittee never before commended itself more to my warm approbation, than when I read it in connection with the noble stand taken in the body of the report. The hearty sincerity of what I now say, I trust will be impressed on your mind by a recollection of what passed in St. Bartholomew's Church on the subject brought forward by you and supported by my feeble voice, touching the duty of the Church's extending the benefit of our holv relio-ion to the shores of the Pacific. You then save me the rio-ht hand of Chris- CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 319 tian fellowship ; an event ever to be cherished in my memory as a pledge of better things to come. Your affectionate friend and brother in Christ, Philander Chase. To the Key. Dr. Mc Vicar. My father did at the time what he could. Though many a well-tried man might have been willing to go as bishop, not from ambition, but because of the power it would give him to meet and overcome difficulties, one only offered to take the hard and depressing position of chaplain to a band of adven- turers, and solitary missionary in a new land. And if future events have left the stigma of moral weak- ness, in the desertion of his sacred callino- for a more gainfiil pursuit, upon the name of J. M. Leavenworth, it may still be a question, whether the Church, which allowed him to go single-handed into such a perilous contest, must not be willing to assume her share in the guilt of his fall. His first letter after arriving would seem to show that then, at least, he had good intentions and a clear head. I give it entire : — San Francisco, May 24, 1847. Rev. and deak Sir, — A good Providence per- mits me to announce my safe arrival and prosperous beginning — when I can give my whole time to the duties of my holy calling. The Church will be well planted in Sonora, San Francisco, Puebla, and Mon- terey, with ample lands, and soon missionaries will be called for. Oregon calls aloud. Experiments 320 LIFE OF JOHN MOVICKAR. have well prepared the way for the Church. "Will the Church at home send $1,000 the current year to California? If so, whether for salary or donation for churches, it will do what $20,000 will be required for in three years from this. There is no way of locating lands in and near villages (future cities), but by extinguishing titles now Mexican. Soon it can- not be bought. Under sound advice I can do great things for the Church during the year. In the name of my Master, I ask of Churches to come to his help. Respectfully and very truly yours, J. M. Leavenworth. Eev, John McVickar, D. D. P. S. — I have organized a Sunday-school in San Francisco, and wait on God's good providence to sus- tain me and send me help. I am alone, yet confident. The courier for Monterey waits, leaving unexpect- edly early, and I can only say I am sincerely and truly yours, J. M. L. The removal of the " Depot " from Governor's to Bedloe's Island in 1850, was very embarrassing to the chaplain. His duties went with the Depot, and required him to go several miles further down the bay in open barges to Bedloe's Island, while his heart was with the little church he had built, and the per- manent interests that had gathered round it on Gov- ernor's Island. As was his custom, however, he undertook the new duty with zeal, but did not let go of the old. A daughter writing from home shortly after the change, savs, — CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 321 " Father's return in safety from one or other of his islands each Sunday afternoon always appears to me a new and abundant source of gratitude, for he seems to spare himself no duty, and fear no per- sonal exposure at a time of life when so many think that the call for exertion is over. His zeal in his missionary work, ' grows with what it feeds upon,' and whereas he says, formerly he was content with one jewel, now he has two, and he could not tell if called upon to give up one, which would be the dear- est. Never, he says, did the church look more beautiful, nor the men work for it with a more loving zeal, and yet there is a daily prospect that every one of them may be ordered off." In his public ministrations as a clergyman, in these chaplaincy duties, my father was effective, and always acceptable. His manner was dignified yet simple, his offering of the prayers reverential, and his reading of the Scriptures perfectly natural and effective. There were probably few better readers in the diocese. In the pulpit he had the rare gift of always adapting himself to his hearers and his occasion, and seldom failed to awaken sympathy of feeling. As a general rule, his sermons at this time, were extempore, though not always. Latterly, however, they became entirely so from increased nearness of sight, and the impossibility of reading his own much interlined manuscripts. From a ser- mon on the Fourth of July, 1846, I take the follow- ing as an example of this adaptation of subject to 21 322 LIFE OF JOHN BfCVICKAR occasion, as well as because it embodies interesting personal recollections of Governor Jay. " Of the pure and self-denying character of Jay, could I speak more largely than time here admits, for I saw him intimately during many of his closing years. Suffice it to say the patriotism of Jay was the patriot- ism of a Christian. He knew but one law of right — that was the Gospel. He acknowledged but one teacher, one ruler — that was Christ, his Master in heaven, speaking in His Word and through his con- science. Out of this faith, as from a fountain-head, sprang all the virtues of his character. As he truly feared God, so did he fear nothing else. He never feared the face of man, nor did he the frown of power, nor the proscription of party. He set his course, and that was heavenward, and then bade the world go by. Therefore was it that his patriotism stood like a rock, against which the waves of popular opinion beat as idly, throughout the course of his life, as had done the threats of unjust power at its beginning. There- fore, too, was his old age a peaceful and blessed one, not like that of too many, clinging on to public life till finally driven from it by younger and stronger hands ; nor like others, retiring gloomily from scenes of pub- lic excitement, — but, like one who had been the Christian first, and the statesman afterwards, he re- tired the Christian, who, having fulfilled one task to which his God had called him, passes on to another, willingly, cheerfully, as following the same great lead- er ; and that task was to him, as it should be to all, in the peaceful retirement of a Christian home, to CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 323 prepare liimself for the new and higher duties on which we may not doubt he has now entered. " How deeply our country now needs more such rulers and more such examples, to keep us citizens of a later day up to its earlier heroic tone, it becomes not me to say ; but this at any rate is clear, that to remember we once had such pure and great men, and that they were the men by whom, under God, that national blessing was achieved which we have just celebrated, this cannot be a valueless recollec- tion at any time, nor an unsuitable one now to be urged from a Christian pulpit." Of his ministrations among the sick, it is sufficient to say that he was faithful, and never allowed personal fear, and seldom personal weariness, to interpose a barrier. When the cholera was raging on the island in 1849, he writes to an absent member of his family: " Dr. I was with last night, who, both for his OAvn sake and that of his family, is very dear to me. I am afraid we shall lose him. It has termi- nated in cholera, which has carried off so many. I shall return after breakfast to a sorrowing, perhaps desolate house, but God's will be done. It is pain- ful beyond measure to lose, as I do, the mourners also, by their removal from my care and sym- pathy." As I copy these lines, evidently written before breakfast, after an anxious night's visitation, and tell- ing of the simple way in which the chaplain went in and out among his cholera sick, I am forcibly re- minded of his devoted successor in the chaplaincy, 324 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. the Rev. Alexander Davidson, who has but just laid down his young life, a sacrifice to the same sense of duty, as he went in and out among the sick soldiers, during the late prevalence of yellow fever on the island. His record as given by his commanding offi- cer is a very noble one, and if imagination might be allowed to picture choice meetings in the spirit world, it would find here congenial material. Many letters show the personal interest which my father took in the new recruits, especially those who had seen better days, and who, by misfortune or wrong-doing, had been induced to enlist in the army. Several, so situated, were through his influence at Washington freed from their enlistment and restored to their friends. Foreigners also, who could neither speak nor write English, but who were well educated, and who from necessity had been forced to enlist, often found in the Latin tongue a means of com- munication which must have been to them a great comfort. From several such preserved, written generally on mere scraps of paper, suggestive of the entire literary privation of the recruit's life, I tran- scribe the following : — DoMiNE Pastor, — Quod tibi scribo, excusa me. Te rogare volui, ut tibi curam haberes pro me. Ma- jorem optare, ut me in Partem Permanentem trans- ferret. Simul curriculum vitge meae tibi refero, ut de me judicare possis. Filius pastoris, primarii Magdeburgiensis sum. In prima classe Gymnasii Latini Halberstadiensis ver- CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 325 satus sura. Postea quinque annos mercator fui, in- quibus Collegium Carolinuni Brunoswigii visitavi. Capitanus in bello Danico fui, et infelix fortuha poli- ticio me in banc partem mundi transtulit. Non amicum, qui me novit, habeo. Rogo ut tu meum optatum audias. Carolus Arminius Thryhsson. The " permanent party " referred to in the above was the permanent garrison of the island, the mem- bers of which were not liable to be sent to distant posts, and had other privileges. Only the best men were put upon it, and it was considered an honor as well as an advantage to belono; to it. These chaplaincy duties, running over a period of eighteen years, having commenced with one war, were destined to terminate with another. My father's feelings with regard to the War of the Rebellion are well expressed in the following few lines of a home letter : — " April 17, 1861. — Our April has been stormy, but less so than our national affairs. It is a crisis I could never have believed in, and even now can scarcely realize ; but it alters not our rule of life — duty and Christian hope. When earth is dark, we must look to Heaven for light. Civil war is upon us. It might, perhaps, have been avoided, but must now be met, and the Federal government supported at all hazards and any cost. We must now conquer peace. The interval, long or short, will be one of trials and self-denials such as we have not been accustomed to, 326 LIFE OF JOHN 3£CVICKAR. but, with a brave heart and God's blessing, we shall go through them." The following, on the same subject, and of about the same date, is from one between whom and my father there had grown up a warm attachment ; and the only justification offered for thus making public a private letter, without the writer's leave, is, that by his deeds and worth, he has allowed his name and all that concerns it to become public property : — Ckesson Springs, Pa., July 22, 1861. My dear Doctor, — Having a leisure moment to-day I thought that I would write to you a few lines The telegram this morning reports a great battle at and in the vicinity of Manassas Junc- tion. I am very anxious to hear the result. I fear that, in consequence of our having so few disciplined troops, and so many officers who have had no experi- •ence, our losses will be very great. I feel that this matter has been forced upon us — the firing upon my little band at Fort Sumter opened a war frotti which our government could not withdraw. Only one course is now left for us, to meet all the responsibili- ties as becomes Christians and soldiers. That this civil strife will be attended with incidents which will sadden and sicken the firmest hearts, none who know the decided and sternly bitter determination of our Southern enemies, can doubt. I feel, and acknowl- edge too, that as a people, we have far forgotten our God, and that we have justly incurred his wrath. Let us pray that He will be, as He has ever shown CHAPLAINCY DUTIES. 327 Himself, merciful to us, and that He will soon bring hope and peace and love to our land again. Mrs. Anderson joins me in sincerest and warmest re- gards. Ever yours truly, Robert Anderson. Rev. John McVickar, D. D., Chaplain U. S. A., New York. The chaplain early asked and obtained permission to visit and minister to the Southern prisoners who were confined on the Island, and in the harbor of New York ; and I judge by the many letters of thanks from friends and interested persons that the duty must have been kindly and faithfully performed. Bishop Whittingham, writing on the 18th of Septem- ber, 1861, says : — " My dear Doctor, — I was greatly pleased to find how thoroughly you had anticipated all that I wished to ask you in behalf of the erring men who are now prisoners in the port of New York. For the kind way in which you meet my interference, and the loving words in which you express yourself con- cerning it, I can only thank you with heartiest returns of grateful affection." On the 10th of September, 1862, a communication was received from the commanding officer of the post, in obedience to the new regulations of the War De- partment, requiring of the chaplain residence on the Island. It was one of the necessary changes in point 328 LIFE OF JOHN MGVICKAR. of strictness required by war times, but to mj father it came as a sort of death-blow. His varied duties in New York city forbade his living out of it, and he combated the order in every possible way, for his heart was in his work among the soldiers, and though in his seventy-fourth year he was not feeling old. I have before me a paper in his handwriting, and drawn up in legal form, entitled " Grounds for Re- lief," etc., giving under heads -the various, and many of them strong reasons, why this order should not be binding in his case. But the War Department had no time then to be looking into exceptional cases, con- sequently, when the order was repeated, my father resigned, and the last settled ministerial work of his life was brought to a close. What was grief to him was secret joy to his family and friends. They saw no prospect of voluntary resignation on his part, yet they had felt for some time that his age, and the value of his experience as a counselor in the Church, made it important that this duty of great exposure and hazard should be given up. It was therefore looked at by them as a kind providence, and my father soon came to acquiesce in the view, settling, in its own way, a difficult problem. Thus ended a phase in my father's life which stood out with a distinctness that made it almost look like the work of another man, and suggested that sepa- rate treatment which requires us now to take up again the thread of his ordinary life, eighteen years previous. CHAPTER XX. COLLEGE VIEWS : 1840-1850. rpHE requirements of the invalid daughter, of -'■• whom mention has been made, led to the giv- ing up of the Turin farm, as too far away, and the pui'chase of a small place on Staten Island. It was a comfort so far as it gave pleasure and enjoyment to the sick one, but beyond that it never went. Tliis place never was a home, and after a few years, when the suflPerer for whose gratification it had been purchased went to her rest, it was parted with without regret. The interests as well as duties of these years, from 1840 on to 1850, centred in the college and flowed out to the chaplaincy and Church societies. There was no lack of interest, however, in general matters, as evidenced by various articles in the current press, over the familiar signature of " M." To show how very familiar it was, and, consequently, how ready as a writer was my father in all the live interests of his day, I venture to quote the following jeu cCesprit from the " Churchman : " — Mr. Editor, — Having been comphmented more than once since the appearance of the last " Church- man," by some friends who know my signature, on 330 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAE. my change to liberal Loiv-church principles, it has forced so strongly on my mind the inconvenience resulting, at least to the writers themselves, from there being two contributors to the same paper under the same signature, that I have determined to trouble you and my namesake, " M.," with this notice of it. Hitherto, I am willing thankfully to acknowledge that the balance of divided merit arising from a common name has been greatly in my favor, inasmuch as it has been the means of gaining me credit with my friends, not only for many zealouS and good articles which I did not write, but also for much poetry that I could not have written, the reputation of which, with the usual inconsistency of man, inas- much as nature has denied me the faculty, I prize, even more, perhaps, than it deserves. But be that as it may, now that it has come to doctrine, that, I confess, is a nicer matter, and, as I can, to use a cant phrase, " pin my faith on no man's sleeve," I now feel myself forced, however unwillingly, thus publicly to renounce all claim to the aforesaid poetry, and to state that I am unwilling to undertake the responsibility of my brother M.'s Church opinions, as he doubtless has long been of my metaphysical lucu- brations ; and if a mere personal question like this were worth the trouble I would request you to decide between us the priority of use, in order that one or the other might recede. As the world of letters lies free before us where to choose, the losg, on whichever side it fall, may be easily supplied ; and the poet com- forts us with the assurance that "the rose by any COLLEGE VIEWS. 331 other name would smell as sweet." Much, therefore, as I feel attached to my accustomed letter, inasmuch as it seems to me like an old friend, and indeed to an anonymous writer may be said to be his only one, yet, valuing, as I do, the substance above the shadow, and consistency of opinion beyond consistency of sig- nature, I hereby promise to abide contented by your decision ; and if you say so this is the last time you will be troubled with communications fi'om the M., NOT or LAST WEEK. The next week appeared the following from the editor : — " We say. No. Our present correspondent has a right to the signature, first, by priority, secondly from its aptitude, as an initial letter, to express the subjects on which he is accustomed to write. 'M., not of last week,' is already known to our readers as the success- ful opponent of Coleridge, by which we do not mean, as was rather illogically argued at the time, that he is the follower of Locke. In that controversy he vin- dicated his claim to the department of ilTetaphysics. As a metaphysician, his peculiar province is, of course, the first principles of itfind and MaXiev. It is also no secret that ' M.' is anything but a novice in moral philosophy, and we must, therefore, count J/brals as one of his rightful subjects. It was the same ' M.' who introduced to our readers the trea- tise of Dr. Chalmers on Political Economy in connection with the iUfbral state and itforal pros- pects of society, of which treatise, as we remember, 332 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. iJ:/arriage and Jibney are the chief topics ; two more articles of mental property which ' M.' may plead in defense of exclusive right to his signature. More- over the same 'M.' — we hope we are not betraying secrets — has erected iUfbnuments, and may each he cere ■ perennius ! to the memory of deceased wor- thies ; and if we were disposed to stand on trifles, we might add, that one of these worthies was an M. D., another a ilSfinister, and the third a i)!f instrel. Where rival claims are to be adjusted, it were invidious to speak of Merit ; but leaving it out of the question, and malgre all the counter claims that can be set up by other competitors — for it seems there have been several on the ground of itZusic, or the ilfuses, or iUfoderation, in Church principles, or iliysticism, or any other ilfay-be ilfatters, we think we have shown ample reason for requesting all other aspirants to recede, and leave our present correspondent in sole possession of the signature ' M.' . To a superficial observer the instances adduced may seem an acci- dental alliteration, and of no weight in argument. But the profound thinker, who is not deluded by outward phantasms, but penetrates into the essences of things, will be of a different opinion. He well knows, however fashionable it may be in modern times to sneer at cabalistic lore, that letters have secret affinities which are necessarily expressive of real properties. Such a mind would be easily able to trace the letter ' M.' from its origin in the primi- tive language through all its ramifications, from the confusion of Babel to the worse confusion of Edward COLLEGE VIEWS. 333 Irving, and show that it has an inherent and neces- sary aptitude to express, not only the favorite sub- jects, but the essential character of our correspondent. And now, having thus shown that the said corre- spondent has an exclusive right both by prescription and in rerum naturd, to the said signature, we hope that no one in future will venture to dispute his nom- inal property, or call in question our editorial decis- sion. The present ' M.,' we repeat, is the true ' M.,' and his rivals, in common with all their fellow J/ortals, must search for secret affinities in their appropriate iltfotto, memento moriy In the year 1845, the Annual Convention of the Diocese of New York met under the most trying and exciting circumstances. Without consent or concurrence on the part of the diocese, foreign bishops had come in, presented, tried, convicted, and sentenced to indefinite suspension, the Bishop of New York. This was as much a sentence of sus- pension laid upon the diocese, as it was upon the Bishop. Hence, placing the result alongside of the manner in which it was attained, it was thought by many that envy of the growing power of the Diocese of New York, together with a dislike of her decided Churchmanship, had had somewhat to do, at least, in shaping the sentence. The consequence was a convention of unusual length and of sharp and stormy debate. My father was a member of it, though entering but little into its embittered dis- cussions. Once only, at any length, was his voice heard, and then his words were so characteristic of 334 LIFE OF JOHN M^VTCKAR. the bold and clear consistency, yet humble depend- ence upon a higher power, of his character, that I shall make no excuse for inserting them here. It was towards the close of the session that he rose to speak to a compromise resolution. " The Rev. Dr. McVickar said he rose to oppose it. It was not what it purported to be, — a true measure of peace. It sought agreement by a union of inconsistencies. It asserts in the preamble what it denies in the body of the resolution, and woujd build up with one hand what it pulls down with the other. Such action is unworthy of the wisdom of the Church, and would prove utterly valueless for the end it purports to seek. Whether I look at it in my place as a legislator, or in my relations as a pres- byter of the Church, I can find in it no one ground either for confidence or approbation. " As a legislative act it is wanting in any quality to recommend it. It is inconsistent with itself, contra- dictory to the past action of the house, and, besides, worthless as being but an expression of opinion in a matter beyond our jurisdiction. It reasserts, as an admitted fact, what the house has just negatived — and would smuggle into a preamble what, by a de- cisive vote on Saturday last, was rejected as a reso- lution. This, Mr. President, is neither fair, wise, nor prudent, — and, speaking for one, I will not con- sent to spread upon our minutes, action thus stamped at once with inconsistency and feebleness. As a legis- lator of the Church I stand on this ground. I will keep within my constitutional powers. I will not go COLLEGE VIEWS. 335 beyond them. I will not spread ' words ' upon its journal. But speaking as a presbyter of the Church I have other objections. It trespasses on matters with which we, as a convention, have nothing to do. And here, Mr. President, as others have defined their position, permit me to say a word touching mine. Withdrawn from parochial charge, and thus separated from the more public duties of the min- istry, I yet hold myself severed from no duty or in- terest of the Church or diocese ; and in my humbler sphere have labored, at least faithfully, to advance them. Unconnected, therefore, with the laity of the Church, I claim to speak forth equally with others, an unbiased clerical opinion. It has, at least, this merit, — no man, no body of men, no public opinion ■ has influenced it. " It is this. I desire to look and do look at the sen- tence on our Bishop, and the consequent desolation of the diocese, in the light of a spiritual judgment on us all ; I would humble myself under it, and not sit in judgment on it — on those who moved in it, or on those who adjudged it ; they have their own ac- count to render and their own answer to give. For myself, silence and submission towards that sentence are my only duties, and I would await in penitence and prayer, yea, even in sackcloth and ashes, the removal of God's heavy hand from off us. That these may not be taken for mere words, permit me to add, Mr. President, that the published records of that trial, sent to me, I never have read, and, God help me, never will. For why, I argued, should I 336 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. stain my mind with sinful words, beyond its own native sinfulness, when by no possibility I can ever be called on to sit in judgment on my Bishop, or to review the judgment of the court that condemned him. Such, Mr. President, has been my view of this question. Had my voice prevailed, it would have been so marked by an early action in the Stand- ing Committee of the diocese. A day of fasting or an appropriate form of prayer would, from the first, have converted this into a spiritual question and brought us all upon our knees for our own sins." My father's subsequent course was in strict accord with what he then said. The record of the trial lay upon his table for a long time. I remember well seeing it there, sealed with his own coat of arms, and indorsed in his own bold hand, " Never opened. To be returned ; " and he continued from that time to visit Bishop Onderdonk regularly up to the time of his death, seventeen years afterwards, five or six times a year, as one in affliction. And this he could well do, knowing only that he was indefinitely sus- pended from the performance of his episcopal duties. This begat a strong feeling of affection on the part of the humbled Bishop, and, in Dr. Seabury's ac- count of his last communion, he says, " His family were all present, and the only thing that at all dis- turbed him was the absence, through a mistake, of the two friends, Dr. McVickar and Dr. S. R. John- son, whom he had desired should have received it with him." Two days before his death my father saw the Bishop for the last time. In his own words, COLLEGE VIEWS. 337 in a note writen to me at the time, he says, *' As I entered I saw that the hand of death was upon him, and fearing that I should not see him again, I knelt at his bedside and placing his hand upon my head, I said, ' Bless me, Bishop.' He evidently understood my meaning and faintly murmured the blessing, but was unable to converse." Of Bishop Onderdonk's guilt on the charges made against him, I never heard my father once speak. He was much opposed to the publication of the evi- dence, and, as has been said, returned his copy unopened. He was willing to bow to the authority of the court, but ever considered the sentence an illegal one, which judgment future legislation con- firmed. An earnest friend, he was no partisan, and ever counseled that submission which is now consid- ered as having so ennobled the Bishop's character. In the Standing Committee he was appointed to draw up the resolutions upon the Bishop's death. This he did, and they were adopted with but a single alteration. " Under a judicial sentence believed to be of doubtful validity," was changed into " believed hy many to be of doubtful validity," on the ground taken by Judge Hoifman, that the Standing Com- mittee having acted on the ground of its being valid, nothing should now be said that could question the validity of its own acts. He was invited to preach the funeral sermon, but declined. A vacancy had twice occuiTed in the presidency of Columbia College within the last seven years ; in 1842, by the resignation of President Duer, on ac- 22 338 LIFE OF JOHN Mf^VICKAR. count of long illness, and in 1849 through the resig- nation of President Moore. On both these occasions my father's name had been proposed, but resolutely- withdrawn by himself. The dream of twenty years before had passed. Writing to a son abroad, Christ- mas Day, 1849, he says, " Our college has, as you know, a new president. At Mr. King's inauguration I was requested by the trustees to address him on the part of the Faculty. I was solicited to be a can- didate, but declined and would not have accepted an office full of annoyance, and one that would have cut me off from my little church." Yet there was no de- cline of interest. His address was, as usual on such occasions, a bold and stirring one, prepared with care, and intended mainly to counteract the dependence on outside influence which the election of Mr. Charles King to the presidency of the college had too much suggested. In it he presses with a strong hand the necessity of religious training and the impossibility of a college, governed from without, ever rising to the height of a university. As this is a subject of pres- ent interest, I quote a passage bearing on each of these points. " To ' popularize education,' Mr. President ; to ac- commodate college studies to what are deemed the practical wants of a business community, is an ex- periment, as you well know, that has often been tried and as often signally failed, here and elsewhere, at home and abroad. Our own partial trial of it, a few years since, was perhaps too short to be held a con- clusive one. That, however, of the London Univer- COLLEGE VIEWS. 339 sity, as being a thorough trial, may be so regarded. . A deeper cause of ill-success for such plans must then be found, than want of skill, or means ; and do we not find it, I ask, in the very prin- ciple which it advocates. Education governed from without — this is its root error, Trpwrov i/^euSos. I care not from what quarter that dictation comes — from the will of rulers, or from the voice of the multitude — it is usurpation whencesoever it comes, in the eye equally of the scholar, the statesman, and the Chris- tian. Education, sir, is a mission from God to man — the teacher and not the taught, in the community — giving, and not taking impress — moulding, and not to be moulded by the mass on which it is sent to operate ; so therefore, looking not, as such scheme proposes, to what is, but what ought to be, in the community Your own education, sir, was in schools of another mark — in the schools of our ancestral land — where solid learnino-, and labo- rious study and careful training — intellectual, moral, religious training — is made to lie at the foundation of all other attainments in education. I say ' train- ing,' sir, in contradistinction to mere imparted knowl- edge — not learning merely, not science only, not dogmatic opinions at all — but that quiet, solid, un- obtrusive ' training ' which constitutes distinctly, An- glo-Saxon education, wherever that race is found. In my own survey of foreign schools, some years since, deeper learning I found in the schools of Germany — deeper science in the schools of France, and more precocious and vei'satile talent in our own ; but 840 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. deeper elements of national safety, that best product of education, the union of the gentleman, the scholar, and the Christian, I found nowhere more truly worked out than in the higher schools of England." After giving a picture of the English universities, he draws the following well-timed inferences : — " Now is not this, I ask, a more republican picture of education than our own colleges present ? And is it not more in accordance with all our boasted dem- ocratic institutions and principles ? But what is still more to the point, does it not afford an adequate so- lution to their possession, and our want of national influence and wide-spread patronage ? Does it not explain why these universities are part and parcel of the life of the nation, while our American colleges are found to stand, as they are charged, falsely through our negligence, with doing, like dead things, amid the living interests of society ; bolstered up by laws and patronage from without, instead of a living force within ; taking so little hold as they do, on the sympathies even of their own alumni, and gathering so little as they do, from their subsequent wealth ? Is not this the solution ? Think you, sir, such would be the case, were their diplomas made title-deeds to an estate, giving them an elective franchise in a common body, and securing to them the privileges of citizen- ship in that republic ? Would their zeal, money, or labor, be wanting in our service ? Would libraries, apparatus, scholarships, prizes, be asked for, as now, in vain ? Surely not ! At the banner cry, ' Columbia to the rescue ! ' how would its hosts start to life, like COLLEGE VIEWS. 341 the Scottish chieftahi's warriors, where least thought of — ' from copse, and heath, and cairn ' — from the plough, and the machine-shop, and the manufactory, as well as from the btir, the pulpit, and the desk, to aid and strengthen their common home : or, let me rather say, speaking as I do, before the first soldier ^ of our land, with his laurels fresh upon him, like as when on some doubtful field, he has marked a per- iled banner, and bade the drums beat, ' To the color ; ' how quick, through willing hearts and united hands, that failing banner has arisen ! risen higher than be- fore, and been borne aloft in the armsi of victory, till planted on the highest citadel of fame. So would it be — fellow alumni, to you I speak — with our col- lege pennon ; none in our land, I well believe, would then float higher, or wider, or fairer." These were not the mere words of a popular in- auguration address ; they were the matured results of long reflection based on wide experience, upon the practical difficulties which seemed to surround and impede the advancing steps of Columbia College. The permanent chaplaincy, which is now attached to the college, was, I should judge from the follow- ing, due very much to Professor McVickar's efforts. " Our colleo-e affairs are affain settled. Dr. Moore resigned, and Mr. King elected. During the ' inter- regnum ' I introduced a short responsive service, and although Mr. King does not conform to it, I shall use it whenever called on, and thus not improbably, lay the foundation for the chaplaincy." 1 General Scott, lately returned from the conquest of Mexico. 342 LIFE, OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Many sheets and scraps of paper are now lying be- fore me (it was his custom to tear off the blank page of notes and letters, and place them in his portfolio as a ready receptacle for strky thoughts), closely written with reflections and suggestions concerning college and other matters. The importarice and present interest which surrounds the academic and university question justify a few extracts. From an outline report on proposed changes in college examinations, without date, but not less, prob- ably, than thirty years ago, I quote the following : — " The point to be attained is the devising such a plan, as, while it removes the reproach from those naturally dull or inadequately prepared, shall yet pre- serve the excitement required to arouse the abler students to the highest exertion of their powers. " To this end there shall be in the course of the year two examinations for honors and one for college standing. The first two to be public, semi-annually, the latter private at the end of the year. The pub- lic examinations for honors to be voluntary. An abstract of the roll of standing in relation to every student on a printed form prepared for that purpose, to be made out subsequently to each examination and sent to the parent or guardian of each." The following are scraps : — " German universities not examples for us. They do not undertake to educate. They are mere seats of learning, open to all, on payment of special fees. No examinations, no care, no note, no report, no knowl- edge even of names, no degrees, only certificates. COLLEGE VIEWS. 343 Degrees conferred by government board of examina- tion. Those who attend are of riper age, young men preparing for professions, namely, theology, law, physics, and teaching, for all of which, attendance on lectures is a legal, essential condition. The professors are appointed by government, and the result of the whole system shows, too often, a student's life of wild dissipation and infidel principles. " The English university is a double System. " 1. University with professors and open lectures, and examinations for degrees and honors. Governed and taught originally by the graduates. " 2. Colleges with tutors, daily instruction by them in all branches, with private examinations. " The complaint has been that the colleges have swamped the university. The tutorial system has swallowed up the professorial, lowering the degree of knowledge acquired by practically throwing all branches upon one teacher." Under the head of " Sugcrestions as to Columbia Colleo;e," I find the followino; : — " Necessity of tutors comes from the disparity of students in the class. The dull and idle must be cared for and yet not retard the majority. Add one or more tutors to college faculty, with whom, as a penalty for idleness or neglect, students might have one or more additional hours, during the week, to make up deficiencies. A tutorial in subordination to the professorial is the condition of a perfect system. A combination of both is essential to a practical uni- versity. Our chairs, at present, involve duties both 344 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAE. of professors and tutors. In the sesthetic and intel- lectual at least thej should be separated. There are sciences of memory and sciences of mind. " All true education is self-education. " Attendance should be voluntary, or if enforced, there should be power to transfer to the tutor. Classes, if the attendance is voluntary, may be in- definitely large ; if compulsory, small, not over twenty or twenty -five. " Our present form of public examination not suited to the sesthetic and intellectual courses. As conducted, they are tests of memory, not of taste or judgment. The truest test is by written thes'^s, and, in its higher form, maintained against a disputant. " The end sought in the sesthetic course is to awaken taste and form the critical judgment, not to store the memory with dogmatic opinions. " The end in the moral and intellectual course is training, to settle in the mind great principles of truth, and to train the mind to their quick perception, and their satisfactory defense. For this, free conver- sational lectures is the best form of teaching, com- bined with set discussions ; ai^ for public examination, written theses, and, if time serve, openly defended. " The great difficulty, common to all our colleges, is a growing democracy in our homes. Our best students are of well ordered families ; our worst are often of our first families, over-indulged at home." These last lines embody what was a growing grief to my father in the latter years of his professorship. Neither his subjects nor his ways of imparting knowl- COLLEGE VIEWS. 345 edge were suited to wayward, headstrong boys, much less to that ungentleinanly behavior of which he sometimes, more latterly than formerly, had to com- plain. In the lecture-room he was ever the dignified, though courteous gentleman, and expected to rule his students not by fear but by eliciting from them a like sentiment and behavior. Dr. Bethune, writing from Philadelphia, in 1836, says : — " I cannot deny myself the pleasure, my dear Dr. McVickar, of assuring you that I ever retain a most gratified sense of your kindness to me when I was your cai'eless and wayward pupil. Your instructions often recur to my mind, and it is with keen regret that I reflect on my abuse of the advantages I then enjoyed. To no one so much as yourself am I in- debted for any taste for letters." Many like words from old pupils are before me. One says : — " If your intercourse, my dear sir, with the class of '63, produced no other effect, it did this, it made one member of the class a more thorough gentleman than he was before, that is a more gentle man^ And Professor Elmendorf of Racine College, Wis- consin, writes, in 1868, as follows : — " Now that the work at Racine is fully inaugu- rated, I am constantly reminded how much we are indebted to him who showed us how to think and work. This young college, so full of vigor and fresh young life, is most truly old Columbia's child. And could you be with us for even a short time, it would 346 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. be very evident to you that the teachings we received of old have found their reality and power by reaching to very many who never received them from your own lips. " I found Professor D so fully aware of the value of his early training that he had taken every occasion to apply it from his own chair. And now that the college has assigned to me the same subjects of which I heard for the first time in your lecture- room, I am made to feel more deeply than ever before, the inestimable value not only of the princi- ples but of the methods of study and teaching which I then acquired." I add a few suggestive scraps from the " portfolio sweepings " of 1849 : — " Three philosophic truths form the basis of re- ligion : — 1. Freedom of Will^ so far as to feel a sense of self-condemnation. 2. Corruption of JSFature, so far as always to fall short of what we feel to be right. 3. S^elp, that comes from prayer." "Byron confesses a great truth when in his 'Cain' he makes Lucifer say : — '"He who bows not to God has bowed to me.' " " Many things are above people's understanding, but nothing is above their misunderstanding, so we must teach all." This subject of College Views is well closed by the following thoughtful and appreciative estimate of my COLLEGE VIEWS. 347 father as a teacher, from the pen of one of his former pupils, Professor Dean of Racine College. And the Professor will perhaps not take it amiss if we point to himself, as a proof of the truthfulness of that esti- mate : — " Your father was one who thoroughly subordi- nated rhetoric to the purposes of a teacher. While using language with singular precision and skill, and able, as few apprehended, to evoke its subtlest har- monies, making it suggestive, persuasive, and far- reaching, he was, nevertheless, not mastered by it. The matter of his speech remained ever more weighty than its manner. And this fact may, I think, with some propriety, be viewed as a kind of typical one, or key to his whole mind and character. While it was impossible that anything slovenly should ever proceed from him, he would, nevertheless, have preferred infinitely the appearance of carelessness in style to carelessness about the subject-matter. His constant advice to young men was, ' Never use lan- guage insincerely : never speak, or write, even in literary debate, upon the side in which you do not believe.' His whole temperament, taste, and habit led him always to subordinate, sometimes sternly, every doctrine and pretension, every claim, either abstract or personal, the charms of style equally with the rulings of life, to the simple requirements of truth and duty. Well do I remember the force and ear- nestness with which at our first appearance before him he urged upon our class Pythagoras's definition of virtue, rj Ui-s tov Sc'ovtos, ' the habit of duty.' ' Do 348 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. not rely on heavenly favor, or on compassion to folly, or on prudence, on common sense, the old usage and main chance of men : nothing can keep you — not fate, nor health, nor admirable intellect ; — nothing but rectitude only, rectitude forever and ever ! ' " Your father's whole teaching might, I think, be suitably described by a paraphrase on Wordsworth's unsurpassable lines ' To Duty ' — ' stern Daughter of the Voice of God.' To this without reserve would he trust as the Light to guide and the rod to check, to this for victory amid the shock of empty terrors, the shield from temptation, the true peace amid hu- man strife. " It may be worth while to illustrate this peculiarity by referring specifically to the different branches of his teaching. " It was sometimes startling, for instance, to hear the unreserved commendation which, in his lectures on philosophy, he would occasionally bestow on the great heathen teachers. He dismissed almost with contempt the objection of those who conceived that the necessity of the Christian revelation was dispar- aged by the admission of such excellence. He main- tained, on the contrary, that Christianity is the perfec- tion of all the scattered rays of wisdom among the heathen. The study and appreciation of their great writers, therefore, he believed would liberalize the mind. He did not shrink even from comparing Plato's criterion of man's dutv, o/Aoiwo-ts tw dew Kara to Svvarov, ' likeness to God according to our ability,' with the Christian injunction, ' Be ye perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect.' COLLEGE VIEWS. 849 " But while listening to such statements, every pupil of Professor McVickar was made to feel that they accompanied what is too frequently wanting in the souls of those who make them, namely, a firm, clear, unquestioning grasp of the mysteries of the Faith, held with such absolute assurance that no disturbance or uneasiness of suspicion could be aroused by the acknowledcrment of heathen excellence. All of God's rational children, like all of his works, he held to be, in their idea and creation, good ; and it was an hab- itual remark with him that all systems and institu- tions which had exercised an enduring control owed this to some element of truth and right in them. Nothing simply false, he would say, can have per- manent power. This conviction led him invariably to seek out what was good in every man and sys- tem, to acknowledge it without reserve, and to dwell on it with pleasure. This impressed a certain char- acter upon his teaching, which all who were under him will recognize, — a graceful and effective use of commendation, when it was in his power. " In his lectures on rhetoric, logic, and assthetics, the leading and vital principles of which he grasped with singular precision and power, and implanted in the mind by brief and pregnant statements, which clung to the memory, he was always anxious to have the merits of the great classical authorities acknowl- edged. In rhetoric, for example, the prevailing bent of his mind led him to prefer Aristotle's view of it to Cicero's, inasmuch as the analysis of the mind and language of man for the purpose of persuading 350 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. to believe truly and to act rightly, is a nobler thing than even the ability to express all knowledge with correctness. So in aesthetics, he referred the spirit- ual theory, which he regarded as the true key to the subject, to the ancient Platonic conception of the unity of the first good and the first fair. This theory raises beauty as it were from earth to heaven. It directs us for study, not so much to the intellect or senses, as to the spiritual nature of man ; and thus makes aesthetics, instead of trivial or trifling, to be- come one of the most ennobling of all studies for training, and for sinking deeply into the character. " The unity of Professor McVickar's teaching was felt even where he passed into the very different spheres of history and political economy. His judg- ments of individual character were a vivid and picturesque illustration of his abstract principles. No one could expose with a calmer disdain the pre- tense and tinsel of many a popular reputation as he put his finger on the fatal taint of baseness or interest in it. Every one of his pupils will remember the en- thusiasm with which he was wont to quote Sir Philip Sidney's definition of the gentleman, ' High thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy.' On such names and pregnant phrases he delighted to dwell when he treated of the last and highest view of history, as ' Philosophy teaching by examples ; ' in other words, history with its lessons, moral, prudential, and Chris- tian. " If he had rendered no other service to political economy, — a science whose early principles he had COLLEGE VIEWS. 351 grasped with hardly equaled precision and clearness, — he deserves perpetual gratitude for the emphasis and effect with which he corrected the error, given currency under several eminent names, and among others that of McCulloch, who had confined political wealth to material productions, thus excluding all consideration of the influence exercised upon national prosperity by science and professional labors. We might say with truth that the Professor's own career was the most solid refutation of this fallacy. It is difficult indeed to estimate by any gauge of this world's valuation, the worth and preciousness of such a career. The principles for which he nobly and effectively battled throughout a protracted life-time, are the very salt which preserves human society and its institu- tions from corruption and dissolution. They became in many a young and enthusiastic heart, where his skillful hand well knew how to plant them, the guide and stimulus of noble and useful lives, whose regula- tive principles were a scorn of baseness, contempt for mere expediency, the habit of duty, the enthusi- asm which counts it honor to pay life for truth, rev- erence for the spiritual and unseen, and, as the support and lode-star of all these. Christian faith, received with humility, cherished with devotion, modestly yet firmly and fearlessly confessed before men." CHAPTER XXI. CATHEDRAL MISSIONS AND CHURCH BUILDING: 1850-^1854. TN 1850 the New York Ecclesiological Society -■- found itself without a president under circum- stances which gave good opportunity to its enemies to raise the cry of " Romanizing." The vacant office was one neither of honor in the Church nor emolument, at the same time sufficiently prominent to make its occupant a good butt for party arrows. In spite of this, and of the fact that neither years nor pursuits fitted him for special interest in this society's labors, my father, at the request of its members, assumed the vacant office of president. He did not desire it in any way, but he sympathized most fully with that foundation principle of the Ecclesiological Society, reverence and love for the house of God, according to its motto, " Tabernacula tua quam di- lecta." He also — and it was the crown and blessing of his declining years — sympathized with young men, even in spite of their natural rashness, in all aspira- tions aiming at high and noble ends. The possible value or use of such a society, might seem at the present day questionable. But it must be remembered that at that day we could boast of CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 353 many strange things which this society helped to banish. Even a chapel of Trinity, New York, could proudly point at that time to a chancel arrangement somewhat as follows : About six feet behind the chancel rail was a pyramid filling the greater part of the chancel and built up as follows. First, two square kneeling benches, then the holy table, not unlike in size and appearance to a closed card-table, with velvet cushion on either end ; then beliiiid, rising five or six feet, and spreading its wings both ways, a huge reading-desk with folio Bible in the centre and folio Prayer-Book on each side, with its plethoric velvet cushion swelling over in voluptuous folds and garnished with wooden fringes of fantastic shapes, and tassels whose shape and huge proportions- reminded one of church bells ; above this and still be- hind, in true pyramidal effect, the towering pulpit on whose desk the traditional fat cushion ao-ain reclined, and flung to the air of that upper region its solid' fringes and tassels of tunied wood ; and higher still,. in unapproachable dignity, the sounding-board with its gilded and symbolic decoration. Now people this- structure, as it was often seen when at the close of a sermon all the clergy would stand, two on the ground floor, three in the second story, and one in the pulpit above, and you have befoi'e you a specimen of the not unusual chancel arrangements at the time when the Ecclesiological Society was formed, to awaken thought and call attention to better things. Its success is written in such churches as St. George's- and St. Thomas's, New York, and in the' present 23 354 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. improved taste in church architecture throughout the country. The following from one of the first papers written by my father on these subjects will show the tone he then took and ever afterwards maintained : — " The ecclesiologist should ever have in view a higher end than his own science gives him, as indeed every true workman must have, whatever his craft. . An humble, churchlike spirit, alike quiet and earnest, affectionate and faithful, is a true and sufficient security. In these we have at once our compass, our chart, and our anchor, and, under God, need fear no quicksands, either of Rome or Geneva. " In addition to this general guidance as Church- men, the society stands pledged already to certain great conservative principles in the science which it teaches, which stand forth as landmarks against w^andering in church architecture. The following may be enumerated as the chief: — 1. The adoption of the old parish church of Eng- land as our present type, with its lengthened nave and ample chancel. Aisles if needed; open roof; sacristy and south porch ; no gallery ; and with orien- tation whenever it may be secured, 2. Open seats instead of pews, and, so far as may be, FREE ; no proprietorship in the house of God. 3. In church building, rather to erect solidly and well, a portion, than the whole slightly. 4. To seek beauty in proportion rather than in material ; for it is not roughness or rudeness that CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 355 excludes beauty, but false proportion or feeble out- line. 5. To study reality and truth everywhere in the building ; no sham, no pretense, no falsehood. 6. To decorate construction, only, arid never to construct decoration. 7. To repudiate utterly all heathen symbols and words of vanity in churches and on monuments, and to replace them with Christian forms and words, — above all with the cross, that universal emblem of our faith. 8. To have no meanness in the house of God ; not wealth at home and poverty there ; but to give to God and his house of our best ; remembering who hath said, ' Them that honor me will I honor.' " But the subject which, above all others in this connection interested my father, was cathedrals and the cathedral system as essential to the efficiency of a missionary church, whether in the metropolis or in outlying missions. He fought hard for it in the first mission established in California long before this society was formed, and now he used his position and pen to further it at home. " Such then," he says, in concluding a paper on the subject, — " such then are cathedrals in their essential nature, origin, and uses, — the original of dioceses, their spiritual centres ; the primeval cita- dels of the Church's strength ; the nursing mothers of a thousand parishes ; the primitive council of the bishops, aiding and tempering the severity perhaps of solitary rule ; the maintaining in the ever open 356 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. cathedral of the daily services of the Church in all their propriety, dignity, and beauty, and that, too, in the metropolis of the land ; thus consecrating as it were, the state itself under God and Christ; and lastly a diocesan home for its clergy, through its ample means and liberal endowments affording a quiet resting-place and leisure, and libraries for training up for the defense and ornament of the Church a continued succession of learned clergy, far beyond what the daily toil of the parish life admitted. Then again, consecrating the learning and the talents thus acquired to their highest and noblest uses, the glory of God and the salvation of men, under the guidance of their own spiritual head, and in accom- modation to the varying demands of a growing or full diocese." The discussion of this subject at the meetings of the society and in the pages of the " Ecclesiologist," gave occasion to the following remarkable and im- portant letter from the present venerable Presiding- bishop of the Church, Bishop Smith of Kentucky. Diocese of Kentucky, January 19, 1855. Rev. and dear Doctor, — As one of the pioneers of our beloved Church, earliest commissioned to com- mence her great work here in these ends of the earth, I have reason to thank you for the kind interest you have felt, not to say in me, but cer- tainly in my work since the days, long time ago, when we used to meet in some of those delightful Christian homes in New York, which the hand of CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 357 death lias long since made desolate Hoping that dark days to the Church are over and that a brighter morrow is dawning upon us, I hailed with singular satisfaction the report in the " Church Journal," of the important discussion lately had about cathedrals As far as communicating the impressions made upon my mind in the course of the observation and experience of nearly a quarter of a century to you, and through you, to your society, may be offering them to the Church for her use and benefit, they are quite at your service. It is for this purpose I am now writing. The first great want I discerned upon coming to Kentucky, was the want of indigenous, or at least of semi-indigenous clergy. Hence my efforts, in vain, for a theological school ; and hence for Shelby Col- lege, alas! thus far also in vain, as a feeder to it. Twenty years' experience and more, throws us all back upon a quasi-cathedral theological school, almost in connection with the bishop's family (quite so, ex- cept boarding the young men), in a great city or near it. The next conviction forced upon me was, that the bishop's residence could not be off the banks of the Ohio, or out of our chief city. And it is quite re- markable that the Bishop of Ohio, afterwards, and the Bishop of Indiana, now, have acted on the same convictions. I had not been five years in Louisville before I ob- served the disjointed, ineffective, and often fruitless ef- forts of the Presbyterians, a verv numerous, wealthy, 358 LIFE OF JOHN Mf^VICKAR. liberal, and therefore powerful body, in all tlieir plans for Church extension, education, care of orphans, etc. And in a much shorter time, I witnessed the singular efficiency and success of the Roman Cath- olics, they too removing their see from Bardstown to Louisville, by means of their singularly convenient Gothic church, for a cathedral, and their close-ribbed centralization. We are the only Protestant body in a condition to avoid the mistakes of the one, and to imitate the wis- dom of the other : but yet we do not ! Now, as to the features of a plan of a quasi-cathe- dral, suited, as it seems to me, to our purposes : — 1. A parish church to be built, paid for, and sup- ported, under all the usual advantages and disadvan- tages of a vestry and of the old and almost universal pew-system. A church with galleries and sittings for fifteen hundred hearers as well as worshippers, with what corresponds to Lady Chapel, for Sunday-school, Bible class, evening meetings, and winter prayers. 2. An adjoining residence for the bishop on one side, and a rector on the other. A residence for a bishop's chaplain or one theological professor, and for ten or twelve theological students ; a parish school, dormitories for transient clergymen, offices for standing committee, Bible, and prayer-book, and missionary societies, two or three deacons for sub- urban and in-urban missionary work, etc., etc. Pray begin in New York or Philadelphia, that we may not die without hope of it in this seat of the diocese of Your ancient friend, B. B. Smith. CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 359 My father said " amen " to this prayer of his friend, the Bishop of Kentucky, but there was little more that he could do. Nor is it clear, that those in authority even had the power. The large and wealthy parishes of our Eastern cities are, practically, little bishoprics, whose strong congregationism is not pleased with the idea of a mother-church setting an example to all, frowning on willfulness, and caring for all alike ; while every year makes it more diffi- cult to graft upon the full-grown tree that which in the order of naturS should have been its stock and root. ^ As applied to New York city, I find the following rough outline of a comprehensive scheme among my father's " portfolio sweepings " of this period. "In our Diocese of New York, with our vast, half heathen city, we hare parishes and extra-parochial work, which we may name missionary. The ques- tion is, how is this last to be provided for ? I propose all such to be the bishop's peculiar charge, either di- rect or by appointment, to be known as bishop's parr ish, to be seen in a church, and felt in a missionary organization, adopting and organizing all voluntary societies enffaijed in anv and every branch of mis- sionary work, confirming their officers, receiving their reports, and giving unity and efficiency to the whole, — uniting freedom of action, whether in labor or finan- cial means, with church order and episcopal au- thority. The Bishop, the fountain-head of spiritual authority and discipline ; an organized army of free- workers, for Christ and in Christ. A missionary 360 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. society thus ordered, would soon make our Church triumphant through all the waste places of our city and its surroundings." To an absent son my father writes about this time : " The ' Ecclesiologist ' and society give some little occupation. Number 8 College Green, must, they think, attend to all its concerns, applications for books, plans, subscriptions, etc. But honors must be paid for, and the president must not complain, and the truth is, it has been a pleasure." And again : " In spite of our difficulties in the society, prudence and perseverance, here as ever, are making headway. Bear this as your motto ; it has been mine. If I have accomplished anything, it has been, not by talent, but by quiet perseverance in what I deemed good. The world gets out of one's way, under these circumstances, tired out." In 1851 occurred the third semi-centennial jubilee of " The Society of the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts," the " Venerable Society," as it is commonly called in England. A jubilee celebration having been determined upon by the English Church throughout the United Kingdom and the Colonies, the primate, the Archbishop of Canterbury, wrote to the Diocese of New York .to request it, and its sister dioceses of the United States, to unite. This, so far as New York was concerned, was gladly and promptly acquiesced in. A grand celebration was deter- mined on, to be held in Trinity Church, New York, and my father was invited to preach the sermon. The discourse was a bold and outspoken one, — • elo- CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 361 quent in parts, but rather distinguished for the straightforward manner in which it dealt with the questions of the day, — Romanism and Protestantism, the Greek Church, Indian missions, bestowing the episcopate upon converted tribes, provincial synods, and the like. And all said in a way to stir thought and yet not give offense. The service was solemn and noble, such as to make one feel the power of the simple dignity of our worship when properly per- formed, as compared with the ornate formality of the Roman and Greek rituals, or the apparent barren formalism of Protestant prayers. And when the venerable parish of Trinity poured its gold, to the amount of three thousand dollars, into its old alms- dish, the gift of William and Mary, and oifered it upon the altar for the home missions of the diocese, and also announced that it had, in thankful consider- ation of the jubilee, bestowed an endowment of five thousand dollars upon the African missionary bish- opric of Cape Palmas, it stirred one's heart to thank- fulness to see such noble fruit of former faith. And yet many would have been glad to see a more thoughtful reading of their own history by this ven- erable and wealthy corporation, and part at least of their gift invested in land, in the outskirts of this flourishing African town, in faith, for some future jubilee. The summer of 1850 was spent at Croton, on the Hudson River. The following lines, from a home letter, show the active and social habits which in- creasing years had, as yet, made no impression on : 362 LIFE OF JOHN MGVJCKAR " This fine weather has kept me rambling, selecting choice spots, building rural cottages, instead of cas- tles, and laying the corner-stones of half a dozen little country churches. I haA^e perambulated all the shore farms between vis and Sing Sing, and visited all the chief families." A new and sad break in the family circle oc- curred this summer in the unexpected death of Mr. George Kneeland, my father's only son-in-law, occa- sioned by a southern fever contracted in seeking health for an invalid wife. This gave rise to the purchase of a small place at Morristown for the wid- owed and failing daughter with her young family. The writer, then just ordained, passed his diaconate in the same place as assistant to the rector of St. Peter's. In this old-fashioned house, of what was then an old-fashioned town, were reunited for a very brief period the broken family links. It was a period of great peacefulness as we watched the two, the wid- owed daughter above mentioned, and a noble-hearted, sweet-spirited son, broken down by over devotion to missionary work in his sacred calling, and saw them gradually detach themselves from earth, and pass away almost together, to join the now longer family chain in the spirit world. I cannot thus chronicle your death, my dear brother, without at least a word of passing tribute. Eight years my elder, you were to me more than brother, you were an example and a spiritual guide, one who never failed me when I needed direction, or sought advice. And as I now recall vour brief min- CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 863 istry of six years, divided into its three, almost equal periods, — one of health, buoyant as a missionary at the north ; one of feebleness, half-hopeful, as a south- ern missionary ; and one at home, patiently waiting for the end, — I seem able to appreciate, better than ever before, the spirit wliich throws its deep and lovely life into these few lines of yours : — " 'Tis hard to sit by life's fast babbling springs And count our joys and hopes, as flow'ry things, Which ever grow and creep and rise and twine Among the thorny leaves of discipline ; But he who'd rise in Christ's self-mastering school, Must teach his very heart to beat by rule. "H. McV., 1849." The return of four orphan grandchildren to the family home was an event of considerable impor- tance. The once large family had been reduced to three, and though my father faithfully acted on his iavorite maxim, " Do your duty with a cheerful bold- ness," it was not in accordance with human nature, however wonderftilly sustained, that this blow upon blow of bereavement should not tell both outwardly and inwardly. But the presence of youth, even if we cannot entirely sympathize with it, — and it was only at times that my father did, — is a great renewer. It makes its own imperious demand on time and thought, and breaks down, rudely perhaps as we think, but always for our good, those carefully formed habits on which, as years advance, we are wont, un- wisely, to set such store. The first result of the presence of these children, and consequent feeling of responsibility, was the 364 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. search for a summer comitry-place. This was soon found on the banks of the Hudson, adjoining " Sunny- side," the seat of Washington Irving, and twenty odd miles from New York. Here my father found his summer home for the happy years of his remain- ing life. This place, called, " Inwood," after his early and romantic residence at Hyde Park, though now at his children's not at his own suggestion, was a choice and lovely spot. And, as one of the things in which my father took both pleasure and pride, it deserves here a few words of description. It consisted of about thirty acres on the wooded banks of the Hudson, at the widest point of Tappan Zee. A view of three miles across and twenty to the north, closed in by the varied outline of the soft- ened Highlands, gave it all the charm of an apparent lake. But at the same time steamboats, and pro- duce-tows with their long lines of barges, and fleets of sail, ever passing, added all that life and variety belonging to a great river, connecting together the interest of farmer and merchant, which seen but not heard, as in the present case, harmonizes so pleas- antly with the silent activities of nature. The place, itself, owing more to nature than to art, was what might be called a half-note between the romantic and the beautiful. A low, square, stone house, with piazza all around, was placed on a tongue of level ground between two richly wooded ravines. These, uniting below the house, gave some little foreground between it and the water. To the east the ground, well planted, rose in gradual and undu- CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 365 latlng slope a quarter of a mile, up to the old Albany post-road, which, thanks to Irving and Cooper, still holds to its memories of Dutch and English and Revolutionary days. This spot, though simple, had a charm that was universally acknowledged. And often have I heai'd Washington Irving himself express his admiration, especially when he caught sight of a distant sail at the further end of a vista which he had allowed to be . opened through his own wood, and which he seemed to take as much interest in as if it had been done for his oAvn o-ratification. With his kind and accomplished neighbor, up to the time of his death, my father was on friendly and intimate terms. It was but the renewing of an old and early acquaintance, and unquestionably added much to the happiness of these years. But residence of whatever kind, with my father, meant for happiness, work also, and especially Church work. A note, written before even the family had moved up, says, " We will look what can be done at Dearman. [The adjoining village now called Irving- ton.] I shall purchase, or secure at once, ground Tor a school, to be used as, and after a time converted into, a church." This same year, the writer, having concluded his eno-agement at St. Peter's, Morristown, received an appointment under Bishop Wainwright, the Provis- ional Bishop of New York, as missionaiy fo Dear- man and parts adjacent. To this was soon added the rectorship of the neighboring parish of Zion 366 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAB. Church, Greenburgi This gave to my father the great gratification of having a son, the only one now surviving, settled near him, engaged in work which he also loved, and in which he was now, as he had always been, so glad to cooperate. On the 10th of August, 1852, — this was a favorite day Avith us for the commencement of any little work in which the family were interested, being my father's birthday, — the first spadeful of earth was upturned, by the youngest grandchild, for the proposed chapel- school of St. Barnabas. On the 17th of the same month, the corner-stone was laid by the Rev. Dr. Creighton, my father delivering the address. He had neither the means nor the desire to do this work by himself alone, and in this address he says, " It is the manifest duty of the residents of this village at the present, when land is comparatively cheap, to secure the blessings of religion and Christian educa- tion, not merely for themselves but for those who should come after them, by an endowment in land like those in England which have yielded such blessed fruits." In this, however, he was but feebly seconded, and his own responsibility, about four thousand dollars, in a building that cost six, pre- vented his doing more himself. By Will, however, he left to the successful parish, which now takes the place of the modest missionary station of 1852, a stone house and near an acre of ground adjoining the church, subject to a life lease. And it now re- mains to be seen whether the overflowing wealth which has since poured into that neighborhood will CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 367 be stimulated to follow ov simply contented to enjoy the fruits of the example then set and the words then spoken. There was, certainly, no lack of earnest words to accompany these liberal actions. At the dedication, which took place on St. Barnabas's Day, June 11, 1853, my father preached the sermon, from which I quote the following passage : — "And that we may look at this question aright, let us first deepen our sense of what the act of dedica- tion has done for it. The special dedication of aught we possess to God, has in it something as beautiful and touching, as it is solemn and instructive. We, and all that we have, are his ; and as Christians, we know and believe that we ourselves are bought with a price. This is our general faith. But then this solemn, special dedication of a part of the debt, does it not become, I ask, an open acknowledgment of the whole, so that we can never after behold that thing dedicated, without remembering whose we are and whom we serve ? God grant such blessing may at- tend this humble house thus dedicated, and would to God there were more such and better in our land ! — consecratincr that overflowing wealth which God is pouring into the lap of this people beyond any former example. Christianizing our too secular education, giving open doors to God's house of prayer, and keeping ever in the woi'ld's eye something of which man may not say, ' This is mine.' Would it not be a blessed thing if this spirit of dedication, springing out of self-sacrifice, should grow up and bring forth abundant fruit through our wide-spread domain ? 368 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR Would it not be the truest crown of our rejoicnig, amid the ten thousand worldly blessings that already make our land preeminent among the nations of the earth? For, believe me, brethren, nay, believe not me, but the voice of History, that without that cor- ner-stone of prosperity, our w^ealth is but vanity, and our boast of it sin. Our very national freedom be- comes insecure, and our wisest political institutions, with all their boasted strength, will be found in the end to be but like some mighty arch, — an arch of empire, 'tis true, and spanning the gulf of anarchy, — but then an arch from which the key-stone has been removed ; one that will hang together but for a time by the frail cement of worldly interests, to be crumbling and washed out, day by day, by the trick- ling rain of selfish policy, till it sink dishonored, stone by stone : or else, it may be hurled into sudden ruin in the mad tempest of some unholy popular tumult." A vote of thanks from the Board of Trustees of Columbia College, dated March 1st, 1852, " for the foundation of two annual prizes in the Senior Class, by the Reverend Dr. McVickar," show that not at Irvington only, but elsewhere and in other spheres of duty, was my father acting up to his own teach- ing. These prizes were, one for accurate knowledge of Patristic Greek, the other for an English essay on some subject connected with the evidences of Christianity, and both for the encouragement of those looking to the sacred ministry as their profession. This was soon followed by the foundation of two like prizes in the General Theological Seminary ; one of CATHEDRAL MISSIONS, ETC. 369 these also for scholarship in Greek, the other in Ec- clesiastical History, especially in its bearing on the independence of the early English Church. In both institutions have they already borne important fruits. 24 CHAPTER XXII. CHURCH INTERESTS : 1854-1864. XN 1854, Professor McVickar was requested to -■- preach the sermon before the Annual Convention of the Diocese of New York. A few days before the appointed day, Bishop Wainwright, after a short ill- ness, was suddenly and unexpectedly taken away. This left the diocese without any acting head at a time when party questions were running high, and threw very considerable responsibility upon the preacher who within a few days was to address its convention. My father did not often shrink from any responsibility that Providence seemed to lay upon him, but on this occasion he hesitated. He had al- ready written his discourse, which was now useless from the entire change of circumstances. The time was very limited for the preparation of another, and questions of considerable delicacy had to be touched upon, especially as to whether a new election should be at once entered into. One party, to suit party ends, preferred an interregnum, while the other shrunk from what might seem indecent haste in filling the office of one whose memory was so justly honored ; while at the same time, the anomalous position of the diocese with a suspended bishop at its head, made CHURCH INTERESTS. 371 it very important that the office of provisional bishop should be promptly filled. As my father sat reflect- ing on these things, mourning for the departed, for Dr. Wainwright had been one of his early friends, and even inclined to plead his years in excuse for throwing upon some younger man the performance of this duty, a text was suggested to him as appropriate to the occasion. The effect was instantaneous ; his eye lightened, he seemed to see at a glance the treat- ment of his subject, and shutting himself up, he wrote within the working hours of two days a ser- mon which, without offense to any, probably settled the question of immediate election. The opening of the sermon will best suggest the argument : — " Brethren, beloved in the Lord ! — we meet this day, in God's house, a chastened and heart-stricken people. A thunderbolt hath fallen on our Church's path, and we her sons look around and find ourselves orphans — orphans, I may say, by a double claim — with a yet living father paralyzed — and now our only living hope — dead before us. ' Of whom, then, may we seek for succor, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased? ' To God's Word let us then turn, as Christian men should, amid our doubts, for counsel ; under our sorrows, for consola- tion ; and we shall there find, as the Christian ever does, in his darkest hour, both comfort and guidance, so long as he looks but to the actual duties to which God's providence is calling him. As a passage suited to our needs, and full of holy suggestion, I bring be- fore vou these heart-stirring words, which stricken 372 LIFE OF JOHN M(^VJCKAR. Israel heard when their great leader was withdrawn from them, — ' Moses my servant is dead ; now, there- fore, arise, go over this Jordan, thou and all this peo- ple, unto the land which I do give to thee, even to the children of Israel.' Joshua i. 2 " Yes ! Moses is dead. But what follows ? not despair, not despondency, not folding of the arms in sorrow ; but Faith, and the high active courage which springs from Faith. Arise, it says, arise, thou af- flicted one, from the earth ; put off from thy head sackcloth and ashes ; Moses has but passed before thee into the heavenly Canaan. But, as for thee, bereavement is to awaken strength, and loss to be converted into gain, through that holy alchemy which Christ teaches to his suffering servants, and which can never be learned but through the religion of sorrow. So let it be with us, brethren. The staff on which we leaned is broken, and, in breaking, hath pierced both heart and hand; but it was broken only to plant our feet more firmly on the Rock whereon alone they safely rest. For it is when Death hath rent the veil ; when gifts of nature, talent, learning, human guidance, are all withdrawn, or rather, as now, dashed to the ground, that we then see plainly the Heavenly Hand that, unseen, was ever guiding hu- man instrumentality. The shadows pass, the sub- stance remains, and the awakened soul falls back, like a startled child, into the arms of its Father —the Fountain of all wisdom, the Giver of all good, with- out whom nothing is strong, nothing is holy, and ' who knoweth our necessities before we ask, as well CHURCH INTERESTS. 373 as our Ignorance in asking.' On that Rock, then, my afflicted brethren, let us this day stand ; on that arm let us rest, but the more firmly, because our hu- man props are removed. ' When we are weak, tlien are we strong ; ' and to that holy guidance let us this day look but the more trustfully and the more loA'ingly, because our eyes are blinded with human tears, and our hearts weighed down Avith earth ly sorrow, for the friend and leader whom God's hand hath taken from us. ' Moses is dead,' '•Therefore,' saith God's Word, ' be strong.' Note, brethren, that wondrous sequence in God's reasoning — ■'•therefore'' — the very opposite to all of man's conclusions. ' Ye are weak,' therefore be very courageous. ' Ye ai'e broken-hearted,' therefore arise to new conquests. ' jSursum Corda ' is the Church's cry. ' Lift up your hearts,' and let every tongue this day answer, ' We lifl them up unto the Lord.' " In this same spirit was the whole discourse writ- ten ; all uncertainty and hesitation Avere now gone, and the bold yet conciliatory spirit with which many of the Church's wants were touched upon, such as " shorter services," " mission organization," " banded labor," and " union among Christians," led many to urge my father, in spite of his sixty-six years, to allow his name to be pressed as a candidate for the vacant office. But now, as on a former occasion, he declined ; and though a few votes were cast for him, his friends knew that he had always been too fearless in his ex- pression of opinion to allow of anything approaching to general popularity. This was true, not only in 374 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. convention, but in the many Church societies of which he was a member and generally chairman : hence, though carrying every one's respect, and even the admiration of many, he was never really popular ; he was even, I tliink, somewhat feared as a closer political economist than trustees liked generally to have to deal with. With respect to organized banded city mission work, his utterances in this sermon were very decided. Re- ferring to the history of the missionary associations of the English Church in the seventeenth century, to the experience of Wesley, and to the judgment of all successful missionaries, he says : — " As Churchmen, then, brethren, let us not fear to adopt what is thus sanctioned, but rather let us take shame to ourselves that we have allowed that sword of the Church's strength so long to rust in the scab- bard ; and as its first field of labor, let us give to it, so soon as we have an acting, consecrated head to order and arrange it, that living yet dead mass of heathen ignorance, wretchedness, and vice lying here at our very doors in this great city — a sight that sad- dens and sickens the heart of the Churchman as he sees and feels the total inadequacy of the Church as she now stands, to even meet and measure the evil, much less cope with and conquer it. Let, then, I say, hands of devoted men be organized under ministerial guidance and episcopal supervision, with their own rules of voluntary discipline, under whatever name they may be known, and with whatever freedom of action the necessities of the case may need, and with CHURCH INTERESTS. 375 them let the Church pass over ' this Jordan ' that so long has kept us back. In this matter let not fears paralyze us ; let not suspicion bar ; let not gold be wanting. Hear and believe the words of God to Joshua, — ' Have not I commanded thee ? Be strong and of a good courage. Be not afi-aid ; neither be thou dismayed ; only be thou strong and very cour- ageous, for the Lord thy God is with thee whitherso- ever thou goest ! ' Let our only fear be, lest we be too late to cut oiF from ourselves and our Church, that entail of curses which follows duties neglected, and a brother's blood crying unto Heaven." This sermon had its effect. The objections against going into an immediate election were really met and answered by the text alone, and when afterwards made on the floor of the House, they fell dead. With the choice made by the diocese, he was well pleased. Writing in the ensuing January to his absent son, he says : — " With our new bishop, my hopes for the Church rise. Last evening I spent with him, together with leading members of the Standing Committee, to talk over plans. I started that of a great city mission with an endowment, and found it was his favorite scheme. It was, in truth, the scheme of a primitive episcopate, with its church and home, and its fifteen or twenty deacons, organized, and working, and living with the bishop, and carrying on the true missionary work of our heathen babel. He is to draw out his plan and talk it over with leading members of Trin- ity Parish. It is our ecclesiological picture, and if carried out, will be in some measure our work." 376 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. This meeting, held at the residence of the Rev. Dr. Haight, was, at the time, considered an important one. Mj father, with mind filled, as we have seen, with his idea of an organized Episcopal mission, ex- aggerates, perhaps, his share in the discussion on this occasion, as the meeting was really called to hear the new bishop's own plans upon this verv subject. But however this may be, we find him continuing, in his persevering way, to work and even hammer at it, longing for its accomplishment. Two months later, I find a letter from the Bishop of New Jersey, in reply to one from him on this subject : — EiVERSiDE, March 12, 1855. My dear Dr. McVickar, — Your letter needs no apology. Nothing of yours ever can. In addi- tion to our long friendship, your words come always to my mind and heart as words of truth and wisdom for the Church : cVea TTTcpoevTa ; words winged with love. The plan suggested for New York is just as it should be. I go with it heart and hand ; whatever I can do to promote it shall be done. In Trinity Church you have the means, and I trust the will to carry it out. Give my love, then, to your most excellent pro- visional bishop ; say to him that it shall be in my prayers that the " Church Home " be set about forthwith, and prospered with God's own prosperity. It will be the nucleus of great things hereafter. It will eventually, I trust, revive and realize the cathe- CHURCH INTERESTS. 377 dral plan and work. Nothing for the souls and bodies of sick and sinful men that may not flow from it. To me it seems the great thought of the age. Com- mended fervently to God, in prayers such as David prayed for the peace and prosperity of Jerusalem, we cannot doubt of that blessing which is complete success. Affectionately and faithfully yours, G. W. DOANE. This note with accompanying documents must have been forwarded at once, to the newly conse- crated provisional bishop, as the following earnest and characteristic letter, dated the 28th of the same month, shows : — 60 Fifth Avenue, 12 o'clock Night, March28, 1855. My dear Dr. McVickar, — Returning an hour ago from a confirmation in Brooklyn, I found your in- teresting package. I was very sorry to have missed your call, as I am always sorry to lose the pleasant instruction of your words, si sic omnes ! It is a comfort to commune with one whose thoughts in- stinctively turn to the highest themes. In loftier and purer realms will it not be one of the joys of just men made perfect, that they can muse together, of all that has been and all that is most transporting in holiness and goodness, of Him who is the wonder and the glory of the universe ? Many thanks for your note, and for Bishop D.'s note and printed circular, which last I return. I 378 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. had never before seen the printed suggestions. They are characteristic, and well worthy of being pondered. If you write again, I beg my thanks and very kind regards to him. As for the Home, my mind has never wavered as to the importance and necessity of the scheme, what- ever my doubt may have been as to its probable reception with the public. My feeling has been tiiat nearly the only hope of the present must be from Trinity Church. I have not proceeded more rapidly because I was willing that the suggestions thrown out should be allowed to work their way a little, as leaven, in private, before making a decided move. I have felt gratified and cheered to find that you have been inclined to advocate the thing in your warm and eloquent way. God said to David that he did well that it was in his heart to build an house to the Lord, even though he was not allowed to build it. The thought, the desire was approved and hon- ored. Let this be our consolation, and let us not despair. There is a pressure upon all spirits at thought of the poor and neglected, and God will yet draw hearts together for his own work. With kind- est love to your. daughters and young people, I am ever, my dear Dr. McVickar, Most truly and affectionately yours, H. POTTEK. The Ebv. De. McVickak. The above letter seemed to me so beautiful and so interesting, both with respect to the little history of CHURCH INTERESTS. 379 this effort to obtain something of a missionary ca- thedral system in New York city, as well as showing the high and spiritual tone of intercourse between such men as my father and Bishop Potter, that I ventured to request permission to publish it. This permission has been kindly granted in the following note, which is here added as throwing light upon the former, and showing how fruit has ripened even where plans have failed : — 38 East 22d Street, March 20, 1871. My dear Dr. McVickar, — I am very much obliged to you for allowing me to look at the note to your father, which it seems I wrote in March 1855, at the house of my ever dear friend, Mr. Robert B. Minturn, where I was then staying. I have no objection to your printing the note. There is noth- ing in it that I feel any desire to change. My interest in city mission work with which the " Home " re- ferred to was proposed to be connected, is as earnest and ever present as it was then. The idea of such a Central Mission Home in the city, and its uses, I had explained to a small company of friends, including, I think, your father, some time in the previous winter, 1854-55, at the house of the Rev. Dr. Haight. My opinion with regard to the value of such a Central Mission Home, if properly organized and sustained by proper unity of action, is at this hour precisely what it was sixteen years ago. Perhaps there is no one subject which I have pressed so frequently and so earnestly in my sermons. 880 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. and in my episcopal addresses to the diocese as the great work of " preaching the gospel to the poor." And certainly the progress which has been made in that work during the last sixteen years has been very great. We have yet great deficiencies to sup- ply, but it is impossible to compare the Church work of this city in reference to the poor, with what it was sixteen or eighteen years ago, without feeling that we have reason to be thankful to Almighty God for his goodness and that we have reason to be encouraged. If I have not come before the Church in the city, to press the immediate establishment of a Central City Mission Home, or if I have not given my sup- port to some other plans for prosecuting city mission work, it has been because I saw other modes of ad- vancing the great cause which we all have at heart, that seemed to me to promise, for the present at least, more certain and more abundant success. I am, my dear Dr. McVickar, Very truly and affectionately yours, HoKATio Potter. To the Eev. Dr. McVickar. This interesting letter needs no comment. Any- thing like a history of city mission work does not come within the present province of the writer. His object is attained when he has given a fair statement of the origin and growth of this idea of a cathedral mission in Professor McVickar's mind, and the way in which, from time to time in his long life, he sought for it practical demonstration. CHURCH INTERESTS. 381 During the coming year the plan for a " Church College and Home for the sons of the Clergy," to be engrafted on the chapel school of St. Barnabas, at Irvington, was put forth, with liberal offers to the diocese of partial endowment. The plan, as a train- ing school for the ministry and home for the sons of the clergy, was a good one, but it soon became evi- dent that the originators of it must be prepared to carry the whole burden. This they were not able to do ; it was, therefore, wisely dropped, and my father soon after interested himself warmly in the almost similar effort and plan of his nephew, Mr. John Bard, at Annandale. To this Training College of St. Stephen's he left by will three thousand dollars and a portion of his library, and up to the time of his death was a trustee and a warm advocate of its interests. How real and how successful this was is evident from the following note from Mr. Bard : — Annandale, June 13, 1859. My dear Uncle, — Very many thanks for the warm interest and masterly generalship you have shown in our affairs. The handsome way in which matters appear before the Church is indeed grati- fying. I congratulate you on having the opportunity in your advancing years of adding to your many other acts of devotion this one which seems so full of hope of future greatness. And before I relax the grasp from this growing child, let me thank you again, and 382 LIFE OF JOHN MCfJCKAR. from the bottom of my heart, for your very valuable services in the period of our necessity. With kindest love to all, I am, my dear Uncle, Yours affectionately, John Bard. This refers to his report to Convention as superin- tendent of the " Society for the Promotion of Relig- ion and Learning," and to the action of that society in favor of the new Training College. The year 1857 brought my father to his seventieth birthday. This midsummer festival — August 10 — was celebrated in old Scotch style, with something of a family reunion at his country-seat at Irvington. A favorite nephew, unable to be present, writes : " May you be spared to us still many years as guide and example. I have always looked upon you as the head of our clan, and as having kept the standard well advanced and shown us the way." But he was beginning to feel, somewhat, his age, and this year he petitioned the Trustees of Columbia College to re- lieve him of some of his duties. The simple record in the college catalogue is a very eloquent one as to what had been their extent and duration : — " John McVickar, S. T. D., appointed 1817 Pro- fessor of Moral Philosophy, Rhetoric, and Belles- lettres. The subjects of Intellectual Philosophy and Political Economy were, in 1818, added to this de- partment. In 1857 this chair was subdivided into four, namely, the chair of Moral and Intellectual CHURCH INTERESTS. 383 Philosopliy, the chair of Ancient and Modern Liter- ature, the chair of History and PoUtical Science, and the chair of the Evidences of Natural and Re- vealed Religion." To this last my father was now appointed, resigning to others the varied duties which had been his for forty years, and in which he had shown himself, as the resolutions of the board ex- press it, " able and faithful." We may indeed won- der at the amount of work done when we consider him, for this length of time, responsible for two or three lectures a day over such a distracting range of subjects. Rest, hoAvever, did not mean idleness. He was a constant visitor, in the way of calls, among friends old and new, and the increase of time now at his disposal led to the renewing of many old friendships. His pen, too, was also kept busy. During this year he wrote a short biographical notice to append to the sermon preached by the Rev. Dr. Cooke at the funeral of the two sisters, Mrs. Banyer and Miss Jay, daughters of Governor Jay, whose united lives, filled with good works, and united deaths, bright with faith, had presented, what is so rare but so engaging, a family picture of the beauty of holiness. This, during the next year, was enlarged into a " memo- rial " of one hundred and thirty pages, at the request of their brother and his brother-in-law, Mr. William Jay, and at the earnest solicitation of the publisher. The reasons for its publication are thus briefly set forth in the preface : — " In the hope, under God's blessing, of extending 384 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. beyond the limits of tlie circle in which they were personally known and loved, the memory of the late Mrs. Banyer and Miss Jay, the following brief memorial has been prepared, and is now put forth with the prayer that it may advance the glory of that Saviour in whose name all their alms-deeds were done, and through faith in whom they were supported under all their trials. Such examples, we all feel, are greatly needed, more especially in our age and country, where abounding wealth and the habits of corresponding self-indulgence are found so often to break down the Christian graces of moderation and self-denial, and consequently the means of liberal charity. God grant that this simple record of the reverse may lead many to follow these Christian sisters in consecrating worldly wealth to his glory who gives it, and unto whom account is to be ren- dered for the use of it. With this prayer it is sub- mitted." With the year 1859 came the one himdred and fiftieth anniversary of " Trinity School." This was a New York foundation of which my father was a trustee, and in which he had been long and practi- cally interested. He determined that, for its one hundred scholars who were on the foundation, this should be a gi'and and long to be remembered day. And in this, aided by his brother trustees and the liberality of Trinity Parish, he was quite successful. The anniversary was held in Trinity Chapel, the late venerable rector of Trinity, Dr. Berrian, presiding. My father "preached the sermon, and, as chairman CHURCH INTERESTS. 385 of the school committee, distributed the memorial prizes. It was a sight of no ordinary interest to see him there, in his ripe but vigorous age, at the foot of the chancel steps, surrounded by these hundred youthful forms with their expectant faces, and to hear the impressive sentences Avith which to each different class he made the formal present-ation. To the first and second with the Greek Testament, he said, — " Receive the Word of God, the revelation of Jesus Christ, in that original tongue in which, under the guidance of the Spirit, it was indited. Receive it,. value it, study it, guard it ; the record of this day, and of your Christian duty." To the third, — " To each of you is presented, in remembrance of this day, a copy of the Book of Common Prayer ; next to God's Word, the most valued heritage of Churchmen; the Church's best bulwark against every error of doctrine, and every corruption of its pure, primitive, and Apostolic worship." To the fourth class he said, — " We give, on this day, in remembrance of it, to each of you, this Christian History of Greece ; a history of the land, whose language is that of the gospel, and whose literature is the ornament of the scholar, — the land, too, where St. Paul founded churches and consecrated bishops, before boastful Rome possessed either." And to the fifth class he said, — " Receive each of you at our hands, in re- membrance of this day, the record of a good man's life, the Biography of Bishop Ken ; a name dear to the Church and reverenced wherever heard. His morning and evening songs are consecrated in the 25 386 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. hearts and memory of Churchmen. Study his hfe and follow his example." From the sermon preached on this occasion I feel impelled to quote what was probably his last public appeal for what he had so often pressed, individual endowments in the matter of religion and education. " The endowments of religion and education, not by the state, but by individuals, whether kings or otherwise, has been to nations that fully adopted it, the strong arm, even in this world's arena. In which result let our Church and country read a lesson writ- ten for it by the hand, not of man's wisdom but of God's providence ; showing how the present genera- tion, in our far-spread and thinly-peopled land, with but little personal sacrifice, but with much prospective wisdom, — the wisdom that becomes alike the states- man and the Christian, — may, by landed endowment, now make blessed provision for their children and their children's children, to a hundred generations ; securing to them and to their land, learning and liberty and pure religion. In this matter take the Christian poet's advice and warning : — " ' ! while thou yet hast room, fair, fruitful land. Ere war and want have stained thy virgin sod ; Mark thee a place on high, a glorious stand, Where truth her sign may make o'er forest, lake, and strand. ' " Of such prospective wisdom, the early endowment of Trinity Church is one of the few specimens our country exhibits, and may be fairly taken as a test of the principles here laid down. Its early rent roll, X35 New York currency, burdened not the age that CHURCH INTERESTS. 387 gave it. Its growing rent roll, like a swelling stream, has been distributed into a thousand rills, caiTjing the gospel into the desert, as well as nourishing it at home ; and from time to time creating with its sur- plus waters new and independent reservoirs of strength, such as Columbia College in 175-1, Trinity School in 1800, and the Society for Promotion of Religion and Learning in 1802, to carry out more abundantly over a thirsty land the waters of life." I would here remark that the adverse influences which many have complained of as flowing from the endowment of Trinity Church, resulted, in my father's opinion, from her standing alone among many par- ishes which, in all other respects save that of wealth, were according to her construction of her own posi- tion, her equals ; and that these would have been obviated had she either been one of several similarly endowed, or, more in harmony with primitive prin- ciples, as the bishop's church been the cathedral of the diocese. Home life in the mean time ran on much as usual, except that the household gradually thinned out again, not now by bereavement, but by marriage. The removal of Columbia College from its orio-inal site to the upper part of the city broke up the old home at 8 College Green. After one tentative move my father settled down again in 32d Street, in a house which had belonged to his brother-in-law, Mr. Wil- liam Jay. Here his winters were passed, with the exception of the many happy days, especially Sun- days, which were given to those, whom he knew 388 LIFE OF JOHN M^VICKAR. enjoyed his presence, at the little rectory house of St. Barnabas, Irvington. And when he could not come in person, a bright, cheerful note, or a few lines of rhyme, were sent as a peace-offering. Of the first, this Christmas note of his seventy-second year will serve as an example : — Xtmas, 5 P.M., I860. My dear Son, — If this were not Christmas it would be cold weather. It requires all its warm greetings to keep one comfortable ; and upon that text I write to send our warmest to the rectory be- fore Christmas Day is swallowed up in the all-devour- ing Past. To one and each and all, we therefore say, as in the olden time, " A merry, merry Christ- mas." Our morning breakfast brought to light our respective " presents," in which I am ashamed to say I was a receiver, and not a giver. Having outrun the constable and overdrawn my bank account, I ap- peared in forma pauperis, and had ray crying wants supplied by a splendid razor-strop to keep company with its namesake and make it available in dull times, and an umbrella of silk, too beautiful to be exposed to the storm and not needful at present for the heat ; so that till summer comes I shall be con- tent with my headless cotton one I have not yet told you of our young people's safe arrival some hours after time, having met with delay, and been saved from imminent danger, in crossing a bridge while burning. The bold conductor dashed over it without a minute to spare, through smoke and flame, CHURCH INTERESTS. 389 having many precious souls on boai'd, among others President Lincoln and Secretary Seward. I am the only one of the household not quite bright, suffering fi'om what I thought I never had, a severe cold, got with running about on our severest day to get to- gether the Standing Committee, at the call of the Bishop, for urgent business With love to F., and a kiss to each of the children, I remain, as usual. Your affectionate father, J. McVlCKAK. At another time came up the following, founded on the effects of a grandchild's cold in the head : — A CHILD'S MISTAKE THROUGH SYMPATHY. " ' It blows, it snows,' young Willie said To Harry, as he lay in bed, With handkerchief beneath his head. " ' Who blows his nose 1 ' poor Hal sneezed out. ' Has he a cold ? Why then 's he out 1 All night, d'ye say ? Well, then, I knows As well as you, he blows his nose.' " Yet this was not the exuberance of health, but rather the long formed habit of cheerfulness for the sake of others. Not long after, he wrote : — " For myself, I have been up with you but little this winter, not through want of inclination or love, for my thoughts are daily with you, but through years ! My feet are tender, my eye annoying, and my whole body more dependent than ever on fireside comfort and the daily routine of my own room. 390 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. Though all this is grumbling, and a little exagger- ated, for what I sav of years has not yet stopped me of my duties, though last Sunday it was a trial to get to the island from ice and storm. I met the Roman Catholic priest at the boat, but he withdrew, saying he would not cross such weather." In 1862 these crossings to the island, as we have seen, came to an end by his unwilling resignation of the chaplaincy ; but he did not, on that account, rest from Sunday duties. On a leaf of a pocket note- book of 1863' I find a list of twelve city clergymen for whom he had preached during the winter, for several more than once, and generally those were selected whom he had reason to think were over- worked. One, whom he thought highly of, and to visit whose church required quite a journey, thus writes : — MoiTDAT, March 14, 1864. My deae. and honored Brother, — I cannot deny myself the pleasure of expressing to you my warmest thanks for your services yesterday, and to assure you that your words reached many hearts. I hope we may all remember, and profit by, your whole- some and touching counsels. Your presence at St. James's is always a genuine pleasure to the congrega- tion, and I need hardly say to — Yours most truly, P. T. Chauncey. Rev. Dr. McVickae, etc., etc. So writes the one who listened, and it is pleasant CHURCH INTERESTS. 391 to be able to compare the thoughts of the preacher, who, under the same date, writing to his son, says, — " I was with Dr. Chauncey last Sunday, in an old wooden church my father united in building sixty years ago, and which I had hardly seen since I was a boy ; and as I sat on the half-fallen willows of that age, I preached a more effective sermon to myself than it is likely I did to others within the building." In 1862 my father was elected President of the Standing Committee of the Diocese of New York. This brought upon him some new duties and closer relations with the Bishop. He was now fully engaged, and practically interested in diocesan affairs, and his voice was often heard in the counsels of the Church. It was in the Convention of the succeeding year that he introduced the subject of the "Provincial Sys- tem." This has since steadily gained approval as a wise, practical measure, till this year, 1870, has seen the first meeting, in the city of New York, of the bishops and the delegates of the five dioceses now included within the State. The underlying idea in my father's mind was a plan which would allow of the increase of the epis- copate, and the multiplication of dioceses, without weakening the position of the Church as coincident with the civil lines of the State. He acknowl- edged that it was a difficult problem to work out, especially when a State had already been divided, but none the less important on that account, and he therefore boldly pressed it upon the Church in spite of the disfavor with Avhich it was at first received. 392 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. This endeavor to hold the Church lines coincident with the civil lines, according to the practice of the early Church, was the important feature in which his plan of Provinces differed from the earlier one of Bishop DeLancey. CHAPTER XXIII. RETIREMENT AND DEATH : 1864-1868. TN the early spring of 1864 the Trustees of Colum- -*- bia College called upon the Faculty to report to them, in view of a memorial to Congress, upon the subject of a uniform system of weights, measures, and coins. The Faculty submitted the question to a committee of their own body, of which Professor McVickar was chairman. The majority of this com- mittee agreed upon two principles, which they em- bodied in about twice as many lines, and submitted that as their report. The chairman dissented on the ground that it was not worthy of the college or the subject, or in accordance with their instructions, and could not but be inoperative if sent to Congress in that bald shape, bringing in himself a minority report of considerable length. President King, writing to the chairman with respect to it, says, — " The mem- bers of the Board of Trustees were much impressed with your report as meeting fiilly their resolution, and as stating with precision and ability the merits of the whole question, and if the paper had been officially before them, on the part of the Faculty, they would, I think, at once have accepted and ordered it to be transmitted to Congress." 394 LIFE OF JOHN M<^VICKAR. This was one of the last college duties which my father officially performed. Soon after, he and Presi- dent King retired together, though the title, and in his case the emolument, of " Emeritus Professor," still attached him to the College, a connection only severed by his death. His last report as professor of the " Evidences " was submitted two months later, and concludes with what we may consider the ripe deductions of a nearly fifty years' professional experience. In conclusion, I would venture to observe that from the frequent voluntary acknowledgments made to me by students in after life, I cannot but highly appreciate the value of such a religious course in the completion of academic education : and express the belief that such enduring influence on the mind of the student has arisen mainly from the whole subject being treated in the lecture-room, not as a matter of memory, or book learning, but altogether as a ques- tion of conscience and individual conviction, thus planting in the mind and heart, when all that was trusted to the memory is forgotten, living seeds that never die. Respectfully, John McVickar, Professor of Evidences up to June, 1864, but at present date Professor Emeritus. The following to the writer, who had gone abroad for health, is somewhat in the spirit of his earlier let- ters, which, with the increase of years and infirmi- RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 395 ties, and somewhat in conformity with an age that was giving up letter writing, had become more and more infrequent : — New York, November 17, 1865. My dear Son, — I have delayed long writing to you, waiting for something beyond family news. Your letters bring back all my own pleasure in the scenes you describe, doubled by the delight of your improv- ing strength and health. You showed good judg- ment in avoiding Liverpool, and striking at once on the antiquities of our ancestral home in cathedral Chester, and the splendor of her modern science in the " Menai bridges." These first impressions are all important in their associations, and most enduring in remembrance with those who visit England, as aU of your party but yourself do, for the first time. But now for our land and its mighty interests. Our Church is advancing, as she has never done be- fore, with national strides. The South is coming in, I may almost say, bodily. Broken up by the sects and their endless disputes and divisions, they look to the Church as the only earthly rock on which they can rest. Our late General Convention has been a national blessing, and a great element in the concilia- tion of the South. The new bishops from that quar- ter are powerful persuaders. Bishop Quintard, after his consecration, came on here, when a new bond arose between us, on learning from him that he was one of my own " Trinity School " scholars ; and as I was aiding him in his first service here, he brought with him his old teacher. Dr. William Morris. Of 396 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. his preaching you may take, as my opinion, my first words on his leaving the pulpit, " As I listened to you I said to myself, there is a Church Luther." To the General Convention I went, overpersuaded by S , and a warm invitation from J. C and his wife, where I passed a very delightful week. I was treated with unexpected courtesy by the bishops, invited the first day to lunch with them in their pri- vate room, being greeted on my introduction as " Bishop of Governor's Island." The next day I dined with them at their hotel, myself the only "un- dignified " member, and, worst of all, being called on, English fashion, for an after-dinner speech. " Tell us something " they said, " of Old Columbia," some of my own scholars among the bishops having pre- ceded me. " My Lord Bishop of Montreal," who presided, was very complimentary on the occasion, and proffered many courtesies. The discussions in the Convention (the House) were able and full of in- terest. The " provincial system " was referred to a large committee. Dr. Mahan, chairman ; a warm ad- vocate for it in principle, as he admitted to me, yet averse to going further. And so it passed the House, permission to New York and Pennsylvania, which was all we hoped for. .... A great shock came to us three days ago, in the total destruction by fire of St. George's Church, in this city, through a furnace carelessly left on the roof by the plumbers. The towers and outside walls alone remain ; the parsonage untouched, on the roof of which Dr. Tyng stood during the whole conflagration, in . RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 397 spite of solicitation of friends. The next moniing early I went down to see him. He was much ex- cited. He had a MS. sermon before him. " See," said he, " the first sermon I preached in this church, on its opening; mark the date, seventeen years ago this coming Sunday, 19th of November; and note the text, 1 Corinthians iii. 13, ' It shall be revealed by fire ; ' and on Sunday next I shall finish the text, ' To try every man's work, of what sort it is.' Now," said he, " if my work has been true, it Avill stand the fire, and I shall renew my strength ; if not, my work is done," etc. It was very touching, and I think, when I can learn where he preaches, I shall go and hear him, for I feel deep sympathy for him. He said to me in parting, " I love you, for you have been always kind to me." . . . . Speaking of the treatment of offenses, in a note of about this time, my father says, — " Let us live in the present and for the future, not in the past, which is dead and gone and should be buried, except for our own improvement, if we would live either wisely or happily in this world. The world has too many trials, and life too many sorrows for us to add gratuitously to the number by raking up the offenses of our friends, whether real or im- agined. On this rule I have ever sought to order my course and discipline my feelings, and the result has been Peace. I think I have never had, though offenses have come, separation from a friend ; I know I have often prevented it by the course I here recom- mend." 393 LIFE OF JOHN M^^VICKAR. During tlie spring of the succeeding year, 1866, the Trustees of Cohimbia College had requested Pro- fessor McVickar to sit for his portrait, which, on the 23d of May, was publicly hung on the walls of the Library. This brought about his last public appear- ance in the halls of that College to whose best in- terests he had been so lono- devoted. Friends and a large gathering of former pupils conspired with the authorities of the College to make it an occasion of more than ordinary interest. At least, it seemed so to those who were present ; and the mature, not to say venerable age of those who were the principals, both alumni and professor, gave a solemnity to the remarks then made, differing from such occasions generally. The address of the alumni was signed by over seventy names, beginning with one of the class of 1812 and two from the class of 1818, the first which graduated after Professor McVickar's election. To this address, an earnest and touching reply was made ; but the following letter to the chairman of the committee embodies, in shorter form, its chief characteristics : — Irvington, July 4, 1866. My dear Doctor, — I return to you, by your son, the precious package of letters you were kind enough to intrust me with, for my perusal, from my old col- lege students, on the late festive college occasion. I return them together with many thanks, both to yourself and them ; or rather, I should say, with deep but contradictory emotions of both pride and RETIREMENT AND DEATH 399 humility ; with pride at finding myself so affection- atel}' remembered in long after years, amid the cares and business of life, to many of whom I have for years looked up for guiding examples to myself in the duties of life ; but then again more deeply hum- bled than proud, in feeling myself wholly unworthy of such high eulogium. My highest merit in my varied fifty years' pro- fessorship, has been simply that of heartfelt sincerity in that which I taught. Whatever it was, I ever sought to unite Truth ivith Duty, to deepen its foun- dations by bringing it home to the heart and the con- science, as well as to make it clear to the understand- ing, and imprint it on the memory of the students ; and in these their present letters of thankful remem- brance, I feel that I have my sufficient reward. Some word of earnest teaching must, I conclude, have stuck fast in the heart as well as memory, or they could not thus have written. " I remember well the last words you said to me," was the recent address to me of an alumnus of thirty years' standing, whom I had wholly forgotten, " I remember them well, and have lived on them ever since." But to one other point of influence in my course, though unnamed in the Alumni letters, I feel not unwilling to plead guilty. It is the lesson of quiet, steady perseverance in the duties to which in early life God's providence called me, and the blessing that ever rested upon it. For this one lesson of my life, — a lesson so i*are yet so needful in our land of rest- less change, — I am willing that my example should 400 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. be both quoted, and praised, and followed; and in any future eulogium of my life or character be esteemed and taken for its chief merit and value. Affectionately and truly. Your professor, friend, and brother, John McVickae, Emeritus Professor Columbia College. To Eev. B. I. Haight, S. T. D., Chairman of Committee, etc. The trial of the Rev. Mr. Tyng in 1867, and the Bishop's departure for England to attend the Angli- can Council, brought additional work and some anx- iety on my father as President of the Standing Com- mittee of the diocese. But, though faithful to all duty, he was quite willing now to let others take the laboring oar; and in the Secretary, the Rev. Dr. Eigenbrodt, he found one ever ready, with unobtru- sive kindness, to relieve him of all unnecessary labor. On the 16th of July of this year he writes : — My dear Son, — It is very long since I wrote to you ; not from forgetfulness, but want of power. Hand and head are both feeble. Amid patriarchal claims, you head the list as my only son and dearest brother in the ministry I have again to go down to the city this week, to organize the busi- ness of the diocese, the Bishop having sailed for Eng- land and made our committee the " Ecclesiastical authority " to call the convention and arrange matters, but Dr. Eigenbrodt relieves me of all trouble RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 401 My only visit from home was, last week, to St. Ste- phen's Annandale, where I was anxious once more to be and encourage them by the statement of a new scholarsliip and an annual prize of fifty dollars for elocution, to make their " candidates " correct and effective readers, both from the desk and pulpit, which so few of our young clergy are This prize was then founded, and at the same time another, of like amount, in " Trinity School," " for the most deserving scholar," annually, in the first and second classes. The scholarship referred to, of three thousand dollars, was provided for by Will. A note, of about the same date as the above, shows that the idea of the cathedral system was still hold- ing its place in my father's mind as a measure of practical importance to the Church. " Trinity, I understand, is to pay off its half mill- ion debt through the Astor lots ; with the remainder to make Trinity Church building cruciform, and cathedral-like, and, if I have a Avord to say, to have a Bishop's Home as a visible centre of Church influence in the city." A few weeks later he writes : — " For myself, my time is short ; my strength fails, but not my health. I still keep up my small work in the Church and its societies, in most of which I am still the presiding officer, and always (?) at my post. It is a great comfort to me to find them all successful. As to Church questions I do not trouble myself, being content to teach as I practice, — Be faithful in your own work., and all will be well." 26 402 LIFE OF JOHN McVICKAR. This is my last record in my father's handwriting, and as such it is not without its interest. That con- scientious little query-point, slipped in afterwards, as if he thought it possible that he had been over bold in stating that he was never absent from his posts of duty, shows a remarkable absence of the almost natural boastfulness of age, while the few emphatic words of closing, " Be faithful in your own work, and all will be well," form a strikingly true, and, as it seems, involuntary summing up of the teachings of his whole life. A few months before, however, he had written some lines on the baptism of his youngest grandchild, bearing a loved family name, which seem with peculiar fitness to close the literary record of my father's life. This baptismal gift, though strictly intended for the home circle, seems, as a polished pendant, to afford a graceful finish to the chain of a consistent and thoughtful Christian literary life. It appears, as read now, to have been a preparatory gathering-up of links from the long buried past, in preparation for the journey which was so soon to restore that past to the writer in a living and unend- ing present. As such, and not because of the poetic merit it may possess, it is here given, though as an evidence of intellectual vigor at the advanced age of eighty years, it is not without its interest : — "TO MY GEAOT)DAUGHTER ANNA, On her Baptism in St. Baenabas's Church, Irvington, Sun- day, 2d September, 1 866, after the Death of her Lit- tle Sister. " Thou precious babe ! ordained to bless Thy mother in her loneliness, — RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 403 The sad, pale face by death removed From earth to heaven, yet there as here beloved. Anna ! It was my mother's name who gave me birth, And ever 'mid the childish joys of earth. Taught me to know and love my Saviour Lord, His holy church on earth, and his redeeming word. Anna ! It was my daughter's and my first-born's name. Who gave me first to know an d feel a father's claim, Doubling the earthly joys of married love With priceless gifts, descending from above. Beauty and grace were hers, and gentle art, To warm, to please, and elevate the heart. While fitting it for higher joy and peace. In that blest world where sin and sorrow cease. " Though fifty years have past, since when God called thee to Himself again, Anna, thy name still brings to clearest sight The picture of a youthful angel bright, — Too bright alas ! to linger long below, 'Mid chilling blasts and winter's snow. In bearing thus a name so dear to me, Anna ! my prayers are offered up for thee. That thou like her, a joy may ever prove To friends below on earth, and holy saints above. But if to thee a longer race be given. To train up children for their home in heaven, Then may my mother's name remembrance give. Of how a Christian mother ought to live, Winning, of earth's rewards, that only test, — Her children do rise up and call her bless'd." The first intimation to those outside his own family that Professor McVickar's health was seriously fail- ing, was given in the few happy and touching words in which it was alluded to by the Bishop of New York in his convention address of October, 1868 : — " One venerable and honored presbyter of this* 404 LIFE OF JOHN MCVICKAR. diocese, oppressed with the weight of years, but not chilled in his love for the Church or in his devotion to duty, retires from the official station which he has so long and ably filled as President of the Standing Committee — the Rev. John McVickar, D. D., for half a century a professor in Columbia College — what a historical name in this diocese ! How stead- fast in his principles, how far reaching in his views, and how elevated in all his thoughts and sentiments ! May the rays of that sun which never sets to the Christian heart shine brightly and cheerily along his path, and in his chamber, until faith, hope, and love change into the bliss and glory of the perfect day ! " This was in the bemnnina; of October. Before the month closed the subject of this memoir was at rest. The summer had been spent at Bloomingdale, within a short distance of the old paternal mansion where, sixty years before, as a solitary student, we saw him preparing for that life-work, which, nobly finished, he was now about to lay down. Surrounded by his surviving children, he passed quietly away, in his eighty-second year, with the oft-reiterated words, "Pray," " Prayer," " Praise," upon his lips, and was buried in the grave-yard of his own Church at Hyde Park, beside her whose memory he had so faithfully cherished, and in the grave he had marked for him- self thirty-five years before. Thus in peace ended the " life " which I have en- deavored to portray. I have willfully kept back nothing that could interfere with a true estimate of the character which that life helped to form. To RETIREMENT AND DEATH. 405 give shape and outline to this estimate is a duty which the writer, as a son, is unwilling to assume. He lays it upon his readers as their work, and to assist them adds these few lines of autobiography written in 1860 : — " In concluding, my dear son, at your request, this brief memoranda, let me add what I hold to be its lesson. My life has been a long, and has now become a protracted one. Every such life must give its les- son, like a sum worked out, a story fully told. Mine I think is this. The power and blessing of quiet per- severance. A feeble constitution thus hardened — a treacherous memory thus made retentive — very moderate talents thus fitted for usefulness — fair scholarship thus gained by quiet industry — college duties an early choice and never changed — and through my whole life an abiding feeling that, in a good cause, rightly pursued, nothing is impossible. The single eye and the unchanging mind governs the world, and in proportion as we partake of them we are successful, and in all good works, both bless- ing and blessed. I repeat, therefore, as the lesson of my life your early learned nursery motto, — " * PEKSEVEKANTIA OMNIA VINCIT.' " APPENDIX. APPENDIX. Rev. Wm. A. McVickar, D. D. My dear Sir, — Your kind and friendly note has remained too long without an answer. Various engagements, it is true, have occupied my attention, but my excuse is, not so much want of time as want of ability properly to write anything on a subject which your late re- spected father, as Professor of Political Economy in Columbia College, treated so profoundly and learnedly. And even now, I should hardly venture any remarks, were it not that a fresh perusal of his " American Finances, " " The Expediency of abolishing Damages on Protested Bills^of Ex- change," " Notes on a National Bank," and " Hints on Bank- ing," have revived my feelings of wonder and admiration, ex- cited by the reading of the latter several years since. To a practical man of business, an every-day banker, it really seems wonderful that a scholar, investigating the subject of Political Economy on purely scientific principles, should be able to see, not only the practical workings of existing laws, and understand the indissoluble relations of money and trade, but should also be able to foresee and foretell what changes are necessary to produce the highest prosperity and secure the greatest safety to the community. To me it seems perfectly clear, that the writings of your father prove that he possessed this power. Take, for instance, his essay on " The Evils of Divers State Laws to regulate Damages on Foreign Bills of Exchange." Practically, banks, bankers, and merchants now admit the cor- 410 APPENDIX. rectness of views promulgated by Professor McVickar more than forty years ago ; whicli Mr. Verplanck tried to get Con- gress to remedy by law in 1829. Although he failed to do so, the several State laws have now become a dead letter. Perhaps the most remarkable instance of the application of pure principle to practical finance is found in Professor Mc- Vickar's letter to a member of the Legislature of this State, entitled " Hints on Banking," dated February 17, 1827. In that communication of some forty pages is foreshadowed the Free Banking Law of this State, passed in May, 1838. It suggested, — 1. " Banking to be a free trade, in so far as that it may be freely entered into by individuals or associations, under the provisions of a general statute." 2. " The amount of the banking capital of such individual or association to be freely fixed, but to be invested, one tenth at the discretion of the bank, the remaining nine tenths in government stock, whereof the bank is to receive the dividends, but the principal to remain in pledge for the redemption of its promissory notes, under such security as to place the safety of the public beyond doubt or risk" etc. 3. " The promissory notes of such individual or association to bear upon their face the nature and amount of stock thus pledged, together with the usual signatures," etc. The writer adds : " That these provisions would free bank- ing from all abuses, it would be arrogance to assert ; but that they would remedy many and great ones that now exist, seems to be unquestionable. Nor would their adoption be attended with the dangers which generally await untried novelties. They are already established by the experience of other trades." This last sentence, which I have Italicized, shows the prin- ciple on which this question had been solved. It was not a groping in the dark, but a clear perception of vital elements, known to be working in " other trades." Now it should be remembered that this letter was written to an influential member of the Legislature in 1827; eleven years later, the seed thus sown matured; in 1838 the Free APPENDIX. 411 Banking Law was passed.' It contains not only the ideas, but almost the precise form of expression which the letter con- tained. Nor was the principle thus evolved confined to this State or country. In 1843-44, when Sir Robert Peel proposed his amendments to the charter of the Bank of England, this secur- ity for the bank's circulating notes was not lost sight of. The issue department was made distinct and separate from the discount department of the bank, litis idea was suggested in 1841, by your father, in his review and criticism on the Bank of the United States. He there showed the practicabil- ity and necessity of having the issue of circulating notes inde- pendent of the discount department, and proposed that it be under the charge of a board of governors, while the other parts of the bank should still be managed by the directors. If I mistake not, in the discussions which arose in Parlia- ment on the subject of the Bank of England, in 1844, reference was had to the Free Banking Law of this State, then six years in successful operation, to show the feasibility of limiting and securing the bank's issue beyond a peradventure. ■ The influence, therefore, of Professor McVickar's letter of 1827 was not temporary nor confined to the State of New York, although attempts to introduce the Free Banking Sys- tem into other States prevailed only partially. The old unsecured currency of State banks, was more profit- able to the stockholders; and when such institutions were faithfully managed, the public rarely sutTered a loss on bank bills. This was true as to the Safety Fund Banks, and also in regard to the earlier chartered banking institutions of the several States. Still, in exceptional cases, the community did lose, and the advantage of the Free Banking System over either of the old systems was that the people were by the former entirely se- cured from loss, by bonds lodged in the banking department of the State, beyond the control of the bank, and held in trust to i^ay the bill-holders if the bank should default. Ao-ain, in 1863 we find this system oflered to the whole 412 APPENDIX. country, and adopted by Congress in tlie following Act, namely : " An Act to provide a National currency, secured by a pledge of United States stocks, and to provide for the circulation and redemption thereof." This National Bank Act, with more defects than improve- ments, — as compared with the original, — is the New York Free Banking Law of 1838, over again. Possibly, it may yet be so essentially modified as to be made to perform, satisfactorily, the work of a proper United States Bank, and its branches. Under this law the National banks now furnish a paper cur- rency of larger volume, and of more uniform value, through- out the country, than has been known before. Your father, in common with many of the best thinkers in the land, was in favor of a National or United States Bank, with wise restrictions as to undue political influences; and possessing the power to regulate exchanges, to furnish secured circulating notes, redeemable (at the parent bank) in coin, and required to afford facilities to mercantile and commercial interests in the shape of discounts. One great truth is now fixed and determined, and that is, that hereafter, no bank or banks will be allowed by law to supply a circulating medium not secured to the public outside of the lank itself! And it must be a source of inexpress- ible satisfaction to you, my dear sir, that your father was gifted with such powers of reasoning as enabled him to de- fine and establish a vital truth in political economy, for the benefit of mankind. Please accept my thanks for that valuable pamphlet, " Hints on Banking," and believe me, yom's sincerely, J. E. WILLIAMS. Steawberky Hill, October 15, 1870. INDEX. ABBOTSFORD, visit to, 157- 172. Academy of France, 217, 232. AcKLAXD, Sir Thomas, 134, 137. Addison, Lady Huntington's rec- ollections of, -10. Afc-leck, Lady, 133. Andernach, schools at, 187. Anderson, Gen. Robert, opinion of the War, 326. Archery, as an exercise for busi- ness men, 201. BADEN-BADEN, its gambling rooms, 192. Banking, principles of, 89. national, 92. works on. Appendix. Bany^er, Mrs., and Miss Jay, me- moir of, 383. Bard, Dr. Samuel, mode of life at Hyde Park, 53. letters "from, 17, 51. death of, 59. memoir of, 69. Bard, Ma. William, character of, 71. Bard, Miss Sally, letter from, 20. extracts from diarv, 23, 24, 44, 289, 290. death of, 290. Barnabas, St., chapel-school of, Irvington, 366. Barton, Mrs., 54, 56. Bates, Sir Joshua, 128, 178. Bayard, Rev. Dr., 301. Bedloe's Island, chaplaincy du- ties at, 320. Bolingbroke, Lady Huntington's recollections of, 40. BowDEN, Rev. Prof., death of, 44. Bowditcii, Dr., 300. Bristed, Mr., candidate for pro- fessorship in Columbia Col- lege, 47. Bkoglie, Due DE, 214. Broglie, Dccuksse de, 214, 219. Buckingham, Silk, 221. BuRDETT, SIR Francis, 176. Byron, Scott's opinion of, 162. CALHOUN, Mr., 12L California, missions to, 318. Campbell, the poet, 226. Cambreleng, Mr. C. C., on bank- ing questions, 243. Canova, works of, 136. Cathedral System, advantages of, 267, 355, 358. missions, 355-359, 375-380, 401. Chalmers, Dr., 127. his life at home, 149. Chantry, visit to studio of, 136. Chaplaincy, at Fort Columbus 308. resignation of, 328. Charles X., Mr. Rives' estimate of, 215. Chase, Bishop, of Illinois, on mis- sions, 318. Cheerfulness, a duty, 297. Chess Cafe, in Paris, 220, 223. City Mission Society, a founder of, 247, 266. Clowes, Rev. Timothy, trial of, 40. Club, The, of New York, 300. Coleridge, visit to, 130. Scott's opinion of, 169. influence of his philosophy 293-297. 414 INDEX. Columbia College, Commence- ment in 1829. 98. competitive examination for entrance, 7. chaplaincy of, 341. proposed plan of examinations and suggestions, 343. CoNSTABLEViLLE, Summer home at, 258. Convent, a self-supporting one at Ghent, 185. CooPEK, J. Fenimoee, 214, 265. CoPYBiGHT, Sir Walter Scott's view of, 171. proposed as a monument to ScoLt, 253. Cork, Countess of, 228. CoRNELissoN, Peof., at Ghent,183. Cunningham, Allen, Scott's opin- ion of, 165. CuviER, Baron, 218. DEAF AND Dumb, first efforts of Mr. Gallaudet and Mr. Clerc, 37. Dean, Prof., estimate of Prof. McVickar's teaching, 347. Death, earlj^ influence of, 237. Democracy in the Home, root of much evil, 344. DeRham, Wm. Moore, memorial ot, 267. " Devotions for the Family," publication of, 32, 280. Dickens, Mr. and Mrs., charac- ter of, 306. Doane, Bishop, estimate of, in England, 279. on the Cathedral Sj'stem, 376. Duee, William, election to Presi- dency of Columbia College, 111. DupONCEAu, Mr., 284. ECCLESIOLOGICAL Society, 352, 354, 360. Education, really training, 339. English, 340. Elections for Parliament, 173, 177. Emulation in Education, dan- gers of, 7. Endowments, 361, 366, 386. not to be used for present need, 245. English Society, 231. Eeskine, Rev. Thomas, 153. Everett, Edward, 84, 280. Evidences of Cheistianixy, 291, 292. FAITHFULNESS in Duty, 401. Family Treasuries in Gen- eva, 211. Fellenbukg, 199. Fitz-Clarence, Col., son of Wil- liam IV., 179. Franklin. Sir John and Lady, 134.' French House of Deputies, 216. GAINES, Gen., visit with him to his battle-grounds, 73. Gallatin, family of at Geneva. 211. General Convention of 1865, 395. Ghent, University of, 184. Giez, residence of DeKhams in Switzerland, 198. Governor's Island, erection of church on, 310. Grant, Mrs., of Laggan, 154, 251. Griffin, memoir of, 237. HALL, Capt. Basil, 201. Hall, Rev. Robert, 138. H.\milton, first eulogium on, 10. Harris, Pres., death and char- acter, 107, 108. Hayne, Gen., 119. Heber, Mrs., 129, 173. Heidelberg, Universit}' of, 190. Hemans, Mrs., visit to,"l41. Heebies, Mr.,' Chancellor of Eng- land, 180. " Hints on Banking," 88. Hobaht, Bishop, letter from, 102. " Early and Professional Years " of, 271. Holy Communion, views concern- ing, 79. Home Life at Constableville, 286. Hook, De., of Leeds, letter from, 274. HoRTON, Right Hon. Wilmot, 137. HuBER, the naturalist, 109, 199. Humboldt, Baron von, 217, 219. Hume, Hon. Joseph, election for Middlesex, 175. Husefield, Dr., of the India House, 228. INDEX. 415 Hyde Park, a patent-right to the Bards, 17. church at, when built, 24. INDIAN Missions, interest in, 95. Inglis, Sik Robert, 134, 175, 276-279. "Interest made Equity," when published, 88. "Inwood,"' at H\-de Park, 23. at Irvington, 364. Irving, Kev. Edward, 127, 130. Irving, \Y^ashingt<)n, 98. Irvington, removal to, 363. JACKSON, Andrew, 120. Jakvis, Kev. Samuel F., 41, 45-48. Jay, Gov., visit to at Bedford, 39. character of, 323. Jefferson, Thos., letter from, 86. Jeffrey, Lord, 150, 156. Scott's opinion of, 165. Jubilee Celebration of the S. P. G., at Trinity Church, 360. JuLiEN, M., of Paris, 221. KENT, Chancellor, letter from, 87. King, Pres. Charles, inaugura- tion of, 338. LAFAYETTE, JVIarquis de, 216. popularity of, 224, 226. his receptions, 223. Law School, for Columbia College proposed, 66. Leavenworth, Rkv. J. M., first missionarj' to California, 319. LiSTON, Sir Robert, 150, 154. LocKHART, appearance of, 148, 230. Louis Philippe and Family, evening spent with. 225. Lowell, visit to manufactories of, 299. Lyndhurst, Lord, 229. MACKINTOSH, Sir James, 134. Macready, character of, 279. McLane, Alexander, 180. McLane, Louis, 243. McViCKAR, Rev. John, parent- age, 1, 4. college days, 6. as a student, 13 as a parish priest, 27-30. McViCKAR, Rev. John, professor in Columbia College, 49. as a writer on finance, 87-93, Appendix. as a preacher, 29, 390. as a lecturer, 347. his " noni de plume," 329. opinion of by pupils, 345. social tastes, 383 kindness to brother clergymeny 390. perseverance of, 399. extent of college duties, 382. McViCKAR, ANNA, 239. IMcVicKAR, Mrs., 20, 255. McViCKAR, Sa.muel Bard, 287, 289. Maelzel, 220, 221. Marsh, Dr., edition of" Aids to Reflection," 294. Marshall, Chief Justice, 121. Martineau, Miss, 284. Melrose Abbey, 148. Metternich, Prince, 197. Missions, banded labor in, 374. Moore, C. C, 45, 47, 64. More, Mrs. Hannah, death of,. 276. Morrison, great retail merchant of London, 177. Morristown, summer at, 362. IVTAPOLEON I., narrow escapes -1-* on the St. Bernard, 209. Napoleon III., in New York, 305. Naval School, proposed to be at- tached to Columbia College 118. New Y'ork Athen.eum, president of, 247. OFFENSES treatment of. 397. Ogilby, Rev. John D., 98; 103. O'Meara, Napoleon's physician, 129. Onderdonk, Bishop Benjamin, 333-337. Orleans, Duke of, 225. Orleans, Mademoiselle, 226. PARNELL, Sir H., 135, 227. Pestalozzt, the brothers, of Switzerland, 195, 198. Peters, Rev. Dr., bishop elect of Vermont, 40. 416 INDEX.. PoLiGNAC, Prince, 215. Political Economy, first Amer- ican chair of, 84. public lectures on, 117. views of, 351. Pope, Ladv Huntington's opinion of, 40. PoETEAiT, iianging of, on the walls of the College Librarj', 398. Prizes, founded by Prof. Mc- Vickar, 368. Peovincial System, 391. RECRUITS, interest in, 324. Religion, object of, 81. philosophic basis of, 346. Reserve, in character, danger of, 75. RiGHi, view from, 196. Rose, Rev. Hugh James, 275. SALTS. Count de, 197. SCHLEGEL, FeEDEEICK, 191. Schlossee, Prof., of Heidelberg, 190. Science and Religion, 244. Scott, Sir Walter, 157. eulogium on, 250. Sedgwick, Miss Susan, letter from, 250. Self-reliance, importance of, 75. Seminary, Gen. Theol., endow- ment of library, 273. " Signs of the Times," when published, 244. Slavery, in State of New York, 30. Smith, Bishop, of Kentucky, on Cathedral System, 356. Society for the Promotion of Religion and Learning, 247, 302. Southey, Robeet, visit to, 142. St. Bernard, Hospice of, 202. stove sent to the Hospice, 261. St. George's Church, destroyed by fire, 396. St. Stephen's College, Annan- dale, 248, 381. Standing Committee of New York, 248, 391. Staten Island, summer residence at, 329. Stevenson, Col., of the California Regiment, 315. Stowell, Lord, 135, 227. Student, picture of the faithful one, 267. Syndic of Geneva, 210. THOMPSON, Dr. Andrew, of ■ Edinburgh, 151. Training School for the Min- istry, 381. Travel, effects of, 235. Trinity Church, endowment of, 31, 386 as a cathedral, 387. Trinity School, 150th anniver- sary of, 384. Truth, its unity, 292. Tyng, Rev. Dr., 396. UNIVERSITY, course in Colum- bia College, 115. of France, 232. Universities, Scotch, 152. German, 342. English, 343. T/'ERSES, a writer of, 53, 56, 67. WADSWORTH, Gen., 84. Wainwright, Bishop death of, 370, 371. War of 1812, 36. War of the Rebellion, opinion with regard to, 325. Washington, Gen., religious char- acter of, 241. Webster, Daniel, 121, 122. Weights and Measures, report on uniform system, 393. Wellington, Duke of, 141, 180, 228. West, Benjamin, his pictures, 283. Westminster Abbey, 135. White, Bishop, 241, 282. Wilberforck, 134. funeral of, 277. Wilkesbarre, tour to, 242. Williams, Rev. Eleazar, 95, 96. Wilson, Prof., of Edinburgh, 151. Wordsworth, visit to Rydal Mount, 140. LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 029 929 161 3