YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY Gift of
Samuel R. Betts

'jfre cl^e^^nc^Cj

MEMOIR

OP THE LATE

REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL, D. D.,
RECTOR OF THE CHURCH OF THE ADVENT*,"
BOSTON, MASSACHTISETTS.

BY HIS FATHER.

NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY.
1853.

Y k'

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S53,
By U. CROSWELL,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Connecticut.

Muff

INVOCATION.
O Almighty God, avho hast knit together thine
ELECT IX ONE COMMUNION AND FELLOWSHIP, IN THE MYSTI
CAL BODY OF THY SON, ChELST OUE LoED, GEANT US GRACE
SO TO FOLLOW THY BLESSED SAINTS IN ALL VIRTUOUS AND
GODLY LIVING, THAT WE MAY COME TO THOSE UNSPEAKABLE
JOYS WHICH THOU HAST PEEPAEED FOE THOSE WHO UN
FEIGNEDLY LOVE THEE, THROUGH JESUS ChEIST OUE LoED.
Amen. [Collect foe All Saints.]

REV. ASA EATON, D. D.,
WHO, FOR A LONG SERIES OF YEARS,
WAS THE CONFIDENTIAL FRIEND AND FAITHFUL COUNSELLOR OF
IYDEAR DEPARTED SON;
WHO UPHELD AND SUSTAINED HIM IN THE ARDUOUS
DUTIES OF HIS MINISTRY,
AND WHO ADMINISTERED TO HIM, IN HIS DYING HOUR,
THE LAST CONSOLATIONS OP HIS CHURCH,

®l)is JHtmoir

IS MOST RESPECTFULLY AND GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED
BY HIS AFFECTIONATE FRIEND AND BROTHER
IN THE GOSPEL
H. CROSWELL.
Regtobt, Hfew Haven, 1853.

TABLE OE CONTENTS.

Introduction : — PAGE
Materials for the Memoir, . .  9
Parentage, Family, and Boyhood,  13
Education and Collegiate Life,  14
Choice of a Profession,  21
Study of the Law,  25
Annals : —
1826. Theological Seminary,  31
1827. Editorial Employment,  35
1828. Ordination to the Office of Deacon,  53
1829. Christ Church, Boston,  68
Ordination and Institution,  71
1830. Family Reminiscences,  79
1831. Record of the Year commences,  88
1832. "  109
1833. »  119
1834. "  134
1835. "  155
1836. "  .176
1837. "  192
1838. "  211
1839. "  225
Call to St. Peter's Churcn, Auburn,  243
1840. Resignation of Christ Church,  251
Parting Testimonials,  253
Arrival at Auburn,  257
1841. Record of the Year commences,  269
1842. "  284
1843. ''  306
1844. Resignation of St. Peter's Church,  332
Removal to Boston,  335
Church of the Advent  337
1845. Conversation with Bishop Eastburn,  353
Bishop Eastburn and the Church of the Advent, . . . 357
1846. Honorary Degree of D. D. at Trinity College, ... 387
Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn,  388
1847. Removal to Green Street,  400
Correspondence with the Clergy,  402
Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, .... 403
1848. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn,  412
Letter to Rev. Dr. Baury,  416
1849. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn,  429
1850. Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn, .... 446
5

6

CONTENTS.

1851. Last Correspondence with Bishop Eastburn,
His Death 
Sermon for All Saints, ....
The Funeral, ..'...
Character of the Deceased,
The Commemoration, ....
The Monument, 
Poetry : —
The Two Graves, 
Fragment of Blank Verse, ....
The Chapel Bell, 
New Haven, .......
Sonnets, by Asaph — Watchman, .
" " Lent — Confirmation,
« « To the Hepatica Triloba, found in March,
" " Infant Baptism, 
" " Washington (now Trinity) College,
« " To a Winged Figure, by Raphael, .
" " Christ bearing the Cross,
'* " Saint Bartholomew,
« " The Knell, .
" " Saint Matthew — St. Luke,
« " The Knot, .
« " Christmas,
« " Saint John the Evangelist,
" " Winter, ....
" " Valedictory,
" To Asaph, by H., .
Palinode, 
" Africa, 
" Ordination of Jacob Oson, .
" Death of Jacob Oson,
" Death of Rev. Abiel Carter, .
Hymn — Sunday School Hymn,
'Tq # # # #
Home — Stanzas, 
" Drink, and away," . . . .
The Ordinal, 
Spring, Sonnet, 
Hymn, First Sunday after Easter,
The Missionary — Reveille, ....
Communion of the Sick, Sonnet,
Saint James the Apostle, Sonnet, .
Hymn, Eighth Sunday after Trinity,
South Sea Missionaries, ....
Death of Dr. Feltus, Sonnet, ....
Burial of Ashmun, Sonnet, .
Hymn — Michaelmas, Sonnet, ....
The Seven Churches, Sonnet — Africa,
Crete — Sonnet, 
Greece — Saint Thomas, ....
Christmas — Saint Stephen, ....
Saint Paul — The Dying Year,
Hymn for Advent, 
Hymn, Fourth Sunday after Easter,
Brook Kedron, 
Hymn, on reopening Christ Church,
Verses from a Poem Book,

PAGE 463477
479 480
481 514
528 16
26 27
29 35363737 38
383839 39
404041 4142 4243 43
. 44 44
, 4545 4647

4953 5555 56 575757 58
596061 6263646566 747575 82 86

CONTENTS.

Hymn for Christmas Eve, .
Old North Cock, 
Hymn, Howard Benevolent Society, .
On the Death of an aged Servant of God,
Clouds, 
Night Thought — Charity Hymn, .
Saint Andrew's Day, .
Hymn for St. Matthew's Day, .
Last Sunday in Advent — The Epiphany,
Second Sunday after the Epiphany,
Quinquagesima Sunday,
Second Sunday in Lent, ....
To a Child on her Birthday,
The Synagogue, ...
For a Child's Album, ....
In Memory of D. W.,
To my Namesake William Croswell Doane, on his Baptism
Ad Amicum, Sonnet on Bishop Doane's Consecration,
To J. P. Couthouy, of the Brig Heber,
Midnight Thought, 
White, ... ....
Valentine to  , ... . .
For Mary's Bible — To my Sister,
To G. W. D., 

Sonnet to a Sunday School Teacher,
Sonnet, Exculpatory, 
De Profundis — Traveller's Hymn,
From the Antique, by the Name of Crosse-Welle,
To a Friend, (Watchcase and Thermometer.)
To my Godson, W. C. D. — W. C. D. to W. C,
On the Death of Dr. Montgomery,
Nahant, 
Fox's Book of Martyrs, Sonnet,
Africa, .... ...
Baptismal Hymn, 
To  , a Child, ....
" Perennis et Fragrans," by G. W. D.,
To my Mother, 
Hymns of the Ancient Time : —
Horology, or Dial of Prayer — Midnight Hymn,
Cock Crowing — Noonday, .
Another for Noonday,
Ninth Hour — Eventide,
Saint Paul's Day,
Valentine — Valentine for " W.," .
To the Rev. Dr. Coit, .
To a Lady, with a Sprig of Myrtle, .
" The Meeting of the Tribes," .
Picture of Palestine,
Christ Church, ....
Valentine, 
To my Father, ....
Sophia, 
In an Album, Sonnet, .
" The Feast of Tabernacles," .
The Missionary's Farewell,
Wheelock Cottage, Medfield, .
Dedication of Hospital at Worcester,

8687
88
9091 92
93949.5
9ti 96
97
100
110 111 112
116 118
125 125126127
128 129
130130131 132
136 137
139 144
145145146147148150151152 153
154 158
161 162
174 174
175 179
180192194195
198
202206
208

! CONTENTS. FAOE
Albany,  209
Valentine, ...  212
Nature and Revelation,  215
The Liturgy —To Rev. W. Croswell, by J. P. C, . . • • 216
On the Leaf of an old Hebrew Bible,  222
Sonnet, written on the Andes, by J. P. C,  228
" This also shall pass away,"  232
Elegiac, B. D. W.,  234
Prison Hymn, by Mary, Queen of Scots,  235
Versification of Psalms — First and One Hundred and Thirty-third, 237
One Hundred and Thirty-fourth and One Hundred and Thirty-
seventh,  238
One Hundred and Fiftieth  239
Saint John Baptist's Day, . . • .249
Bishop Hobart, his Death, .  258
On his approaching Nuptials, ........ 261
In Memory of Rev. Mr. Lucas,  262
Lake Owasco,  263
Lines written in the Chamber where Bishop Hobart died, . . 274
New Year, from the Desk of Poor Richard, Jr., .... 284
New Year's Musings,  287
The Robin in Churchyard,  . 293
Christ Church, Boston,  298
Christmas Evening Pastoral,  304
"Houses of Worship,"  308
Bishop Griswold's Memorial,  322
Mary's Second Birthday,  326
Elegiac — Rev. E. G. Prescott,  334
Hymn, Massachusetts Horticultural Society, .... 344
Hymn for Infant School, Christ Church, Boston, . . . 382
Sunday School Hymn,*  383
Ad Amicum, to H. E. P  384
Convocation Poem,  419
An Apology, .  439
* Inserted twice, through inadvertence ; see p. 146

MEMOIR.

INTRODUCTION.
The reader is presented in this work with an unwonted specta
cle : a bereaved and sorrowing parent appears before the public as
the biographer of a dear departed son ! At the age of threescore
and ten, this parent, admonished by a severe visitation of sickness,
devoted as much time as his pressing duties would permit to the
arrangement and preparation of his own manuscripts, for the final
inspection and revision of this very son. But, alas ! how have his
fond anticipations been defeated ! That son, on whom he thus
relied, by a mysterious providence, has been suddenly stricken down
in the midst of his days and his usefulness, and numbered with the
dead. And now, with trembling hand and aching heart, the parent,
relying on the mercy and help of God, undertakes to gather up the
materials, and prepare a record of his life.
This is acknowledged to be an office of great delicacy, on ac
count of the close relationship of the parties ; but the difficulty in
the case is very much diminished by the fact, that the biographer,
in prosecuting his work, is not thrown upon his own resources. It
is only with regard to the earlier incidents of the hfe, and the first
developments of the mind and genius of his son, that the father
is compelled to rely on the recollections fondly cherished in th&
family. Beyond these incipient stages of boyhood and youth, there
are abundant materials among the manuscripts of the deceased,
which only require to be faithfully arranged and presented, to give
a fair transcript of his history. With regard to the use of these
materials, however, it must be understood that no greater latitude
can be allowed than may be found necessary for the full illustration
of his life and character.
I. His correspondence, which is very voluminous, extends back
to the earliest period of his absence from home ; but it consists, in
a great measure, of free and familiar letters, designed only for the
2 (9)

10 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL.
eye of his family and friends ; and no more of this portion of it
can be drawn from the sacred privacy of domestic confidence, than
may be made instrumental in bringing out the principal incidents
of his life, and in exhibiting the prominent features of his charac
ter. There are other portions of his correspondence, however,
which cannot, in justice to himself and others, be withheld from
the public eye. lt must be remembered that it did not please his
heavenly Father to give him a cloudless life. With all his meek
ness and gentleness of spirit, and the inoffensive tenor of his walk
and conversation, he had the misfortune to encounter much that
was unkind and unjust, and especially from the hands of one, who,
affecting to exercise only a rightful authority over him, forgot the
paternal nature of his office, and disregarded the common courte
sies of pastoral oversight. In reference to the full disclosure of
this portion of his history, there must be no reserve. The whole
story must be told ; and, happily for the satisfaction and consolation
of his friends, he has left among his papers abundant, authentic and
official evidence, to vindicate his character from aspersion, and to
place his memory above the reach of ungenerous suspicion.
II. From the earliest period of his professional life, he kept a
regular diary. This is little more than a brief and simple record
of his daily transactions, evidently designed chiefly for reference,
and to aid his own memory ; but it exhibits an immense amount of
pastoral duty. It bears the marks of a strictly private journal, and
is sometimes written in Latin and Greek ; yet it is interspersed with
occasional reflections and explanations, which may serve to shed
some light on the various passages of his life.
III. Of poetry, published and unpublished, he has left a large
amount. Of the quality of his poetry, the biographer will not trust
himself to express an opinion. He prefers to rely on the judgment
of one who for years had addressed him, and written and spoken
of him as his " next friend and more than brother," the Rio-ht Rev.
Dr. Doane, Bishop of New Jersey, who, by invitation of the vestry,
preached a commemorative discourse, in the Church of the Advent,
Boston, soon after his decease. This is his recorded testimony :
" His poetical contributions to the Episcopal Watchman were
numerous, in addition to his invaluable services as editor ; and they
won for him a high and honorable place among the very few to
whom the name of Poet can be given. Every thing that he ever
wrote in verse was strictly occasional. It was so much of his heart
life set to music. He lived it, every line. And it was all inspired
at the hearth side or at the altar foot. It was domestic often
always sacred. He fulfilled, in every verse, that beautiful sugges
tion of the skylark to the mind of Wordsworth, 

MATERIALS FOR THE MEMOIR. 11
' Type of the wise, who soar, but never roam,
True to the kindred points of heaven and home.'
In that incomparable modesty which set off, in its mild opal light,
his virtues and his graces, he thought very poorly of these admira
ble productions, and has half suggested the desire that they may
remain still fugitive. But this must not be suffered. They are
part and parcel of his nature and of his office. As he lived them,
so he preaches in them, and will while the gospel shall be preached."
It is, perhaps, to be regretted, that the wish here expressed by this
warm-hearted friend cannot be fully accomplished. The restriction
of which he speaks as " half suggested," with regard to the collec
tion and publication of this poetry, is more strict than he seems to
imagine. Among the private papers of the deceased, this passage
is found : " My poetry is strictly juvenile, and must never be col
lected. I wish it to be fugitive and transitory, as the occasions
which produced it." But notwithstanding this restriction, his biog
rapher will feel at liberty to introduce and interweave with the nar
rative large portions of these poetical productions, and especially
such as are best calculated to illustrate, and give a higher interest
to the peculiar circumstances which called them forth. If any
apology is deemed necessary for adopting this course, it may, per
haps, be found in one of his private letters, in which, speaking of
some manuscript collections of his earlier productions, which had
been placed in his father's hands, he says : " I am glad you have
the collections. There are several little pieces which have never
been entered among them, and others which you may find floating
about, now and then, in the lower regions of literature. You must
take as you can catch them, and fasten them down like plants in a
hortum siccum, or butterflies in a cabinet." And, in a subsequent
letter to his father, he expresses a desire that his fugitive pieces may
be preserved, not for publication as a volume of poetry, — for to
this he always felt an aversion, — but for future reference, and for
the gratification of his friends. Many of his productions, originally
published under his own eye, had been extensively copied into
religious and secular periodicals, sometimes with his own signature
or initials attached, and frequently without any recognition of their
origin. Some few of them had also been inscribed, by his own
hand, in the albums of his friends, and from thence transcribed into
commonplace books and collections of poetry. And in many of
these cases, they were sadly marred, either by errors of the press
or by slips of the pen. These circumstances alone furnish an
additional reason for desiring to collect, revise, and preserve these
scattered fragments. It may be proper to remark, that the reader
will find among them many specimens not very accurately defined
by the preceding criticism of his friend Doane. His poetry was,

12 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL.
indeed, almost without an exception, " occasional," and much of it
was strictly devotional and " sacred." But among the productions
of his pen, many partake largely of other qualities ; and a vein of
playfulness and wit will be found running through several of the
pieces which are here collected.
IV. Of his manuscript sermons, the stock is large ; and having
been carefully adapted to memorable days and occasions, and to the
seasons of the ecclesiastical year, and methodically arranged, the
publication of them, in whole or in part, might doubtless prove
highly gratifying to his surviving friends, who would prize them as
an invaluable legacy. But of this gratification they are deprived
by his own written prohibition. The same modesty which forbade
the publication of any of these sermons in his lifetime, led him to
make the restriction permanent. On this point, nothing is left to
future contingency, or to the discretion of his friends. Some allu
sions to, or extracts from a few of the latest of his sermons, may
be necessary by way of explanation or illustration. But beyond
this, no libei ty can be taken ; and every thing else must remain
under the seal of his prohibition.
V. There is yet another source from which the biographer will
feel at liberty to draw the principal materials for the completion of
his work. For testimonials of character, he is not under the neces
sity of relying on his own judgment. These are abundantly fur
nished under various forms, and by different hands, in sermons,
in obituary notices, in the transactions of public and corporate
bodies, and in the familiar correspondence of friends and brethren.
They are all that can be desired ; and these will be employed with
entire freedom. If would be little better than false delicacy, to
suppress such testimonials on account of their eulogistic or lauda
tory quality ; for, after making every allowance for the partiality
of friendship, and for the spontaneous overflowing of hearts recently
smitten by a sudden and appalling calamity, the sentiments expressed
by the several witnesses will be found to correspond so exactly with
the whole tenor of the life of the deceased, that the adoption of
them by the biographer cannot justly be imputed to the overween
ing influence of paternal affection.
From these materials the ensuing memoir is to be constructed.
The work is begun in the fear of God, and with the humble and
confiding hope that He will be graciously pleased to guide the hand,
and strengthen the heart of his unworthy servant, by whom it is
voluntarily undertaken, and enable him so to discharge this delicate
and difficult office as to do justice to the memory of his departed
son, as well as to satisfy the claims and expectations of his numer
ous surviving friends.

1804.1 PARENTAGE AND BOYHOOD. 13

PARENTAGE AND FAMILY.
That some passages and allusions, in tlie ensuing memoir, may
be rendered intelligible without further explanation, a brief notice
of the parentage and family of the late William Croswell may
be necessary- His parents were both natives of Connecticut ; his
father, Harry Croswell, having been born in West Hartford, and
his mother, Susan Sherman, in New Haven. They had seven
children, the third of whom, William, was born in Hudson, N. Y.,
November 7, 1804. Neither of his parents was born or trained in
the Church, having descended from Congregational ancestors ; and,
owing to the restrictions of that religious system, they were not
baptized in their infancy. On their removal to Albany, however, in
1809, the father, who had spent several years as the editor and
publisher of a literary and political journal, carefully examined the
subject of the Christian ministry; and this examination led to his
full conformity to the Episcopal Church, and he was baptized in
St. Peter's Church, Albany, on Sunday, July 19, 1812. The mother
and children were also baptized, on the 13th of June, 1813. The
father soon became a candidate for holy orders, and was ordained
to the office of deacon, by Bishop Hobart, in St. John's Church,
New York, May 8, 1814. After spending a few months in charge
of Christ Church, Hudson, he was called to the rectorship of Trin
ity Church, New Haven, and entered upon his duties in that parish
January 1, 1815. He was subsequently admitted to the priesthood
by Bishop Griswold, acting as provisional Bishop of Connecticut.
It was here that William passed
HIS BOYHOOD.
On this period of his life it is not intended to dwell at large ;
and it is the less necessary, because his early traits of character
were fully developed in his later and more mature years. In all
these respects, it will be found that " the boy was father of the
man." The same guileless simplicity — the same filial and dutiful
affection — the same conscientious regard for the truth — the same
benevolent disposition and amiable temper — the same admiration
of the beautiful, in nature and art — the same fertile imagination
and vivid train of thought — the same habit of indulging in pleasing
anticipations — and, above all, the same devout spirit — which were
seen budding in bis childhood, burst into full bloom in his manhood,
and constituted the abiding traits of his character in all his subse
quent life. An incident is related in the commemorative sermon,
alluded to in the Introduction, which is sufficient of itself to illus
trate the peculiar transparency of his inmost thoughts : When a

14 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1816.
child at school, he was called up by his master, and sharply re
proved for talking. " No, sir," his answer was ; " I was not talk
ing, but I was just going to."
Books afforded him his favorite amusement ; but in the selection
of these books, he generally gave a preference to lyric and pastoral
poetry, and to the rudiments of natural history. The Bible, how
ever, was his choicest study ; and having a retentive memory, the
historical parts of the Old Testament, and the great leading princi
ples of the New, became familiar to him in his earliest years.
Whatever he read was never forgotten ; and his aptness to learn
proved a great advantage to him in
HIS EDUCATION.
He was never a hard student, but always a good scholar. He
acquired knowledge, and mastered his lessons, with so much facility,
that it seemed to cost him but little trouble ; and it was often a
matter of surprise to his fellow-students, that he was so ready in
his recitations, without any appearance of laborious application.
When the point was settled, that his elder brother Sherman and
himself should prepare for entering Yale College, it was thought
expedient to remove them, for a time, from the influence and con
tagion of the city ; and hence a private family school was chosen,
kept by the Rev. Elijah G. Plumb, in a little hamlet situated in
the centre of the town of East Haven, about four miles from the
city. To this lonely place Sherman went a few months in advance
of his brother ; and the letters which he sent home he dated, at
the suggestion of his preceptor, " Harmony Hall." This name was
alone sufficient to awaken all William's poetic fancies. It struck
his ear with a most melodious sound. Harmony Hall ! his ima<ri-
nation painted to him a rural paradise, surrounded with bowers and
arbors, with trees, and shrubbery, and flowers ! He was impatient
to join his brother in this lovely place. At length, a certain Mon
day was fixed upon as the time when his father would accompany
him thither. But his ardent spirit would brook no delay. He
obtained permission to go on Saturday, and accordingly set off on
foot and alone, cheerfully taking in his hand his little bundle of
clothing. It was a solitary road, and he probably met few or none
of whom to inquire the way. But coming to an elevated point, he
descried before him some of the marks of a Connecticut villao-e 
the meeting house, the tavern, and the store. He passed by the
church, a plain and humble structure of very small dimensions, and
having nothing but its round-topped windows to denote its ecclesi
astical character. He inquij-ed of a young lad for the residence
of Mr. Plumb, and the house was readily pointed out to him. But,
in the bitterness of his disappointment, he doubtless suspected that

1818.1 HIS EDUCATION. 15
the boy had been playing off a cruel joke. It was an ancient.
dilapidated farm house, with a huge stack of stone chimneys in the
centre, while either end drooped far below the level. Could this
be Harmony Hall ? How did his fond anticipations vanish, as he
approached the door ! But he had little time for reflection before
he was surrounded by tlie resident boys, who, one and all, with a
sly, significant leer, welcomed him to " Harmony Hall."
In this retired place, the two brothers, with some eight or ten
other lads of tlieir age, pursued the study of Latin and Greek.
But their preceptor, however faithful he may have been in this
branch of his instruction, did not confine himself entirely to the
classics. He was an exemplary Christian, an intelligent and zealous
Churchman, and a rigid disciplinarian ; and he took every favorable
opportunity for teaching his pupils the prominent lessons of the
church to which they belonged.
On returning home, the two brothers were placed in a select
school, kept by Mr. Joel Jones, a graduate of Yale College, who,
while pursuing his professional studies, employed himself in teach
ing. He was a young gentleman of superior scholarship and
pleasing maimers, and enjoyed the confidence and esteem of his
pupils.* Under his tuition, Sherman and William were well pre
pared for their college course ; and at the commencement of 1818,
they were both admitted to the freshman class of Yale College —
Sherman being a few months under sixteen, and William as much
short of fo.urteen. It was by a singular oversight that William
was admitted at this time, as the rules of the college forbade the
admission of any student under the age of fourteen. But his older
brother, being smaller in stature, and being first questioned, having
satisfied his examiners that he was of competent age, no ques
tion was asked with regard to the younger, and he was admitted
upon the very natural supposition that he was the elder of the

* Of this gentleman, it is gratifying to find the folio-wing pleasant reminis
cence in one of his pupil's letters, written after a lapse of some twenty years.
In 1836, William, having passed through his collegiate education and his the
ological course, and having held the rectorship of Christ Church, Boston, for
several years, thus writes to his father : " I see, by the English papers, that the
old veteran divine and scholar, Valpy, is dead. I feel as if I had lost a friend.
I have been reviewing, of late, his Greek Grammar. It gave me a sort of home
sick feeling — it recalled so vividly those golden days of my childhood, when I
was first thoroughly initiated into its mysteries, by a most faithful and excellent
instructor, Joel Jones, Esq. My pleasantest recollections are associated with
those early days. Mr. Jones has since risen to great professional distinction in
Pennsylvania ; and when Sherman and I meet again, I intend to talk with him
about sending some token that he still lives in our grateful remembrance."
The professional distinction to which Mr. Jones had then risen led to his fur
ther elevation. He was advanced to the bench in one of the higher courts,
and, for a time, held the office of mayor of the city of Philadelphia. Subse
quently, he was elected to the presidency of Girard College, an office for which
his superior literary attainments well qualified him.

16 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1820.
two. On the same mistaken ground, the name of William has
always preceded that of Sherman on the printed catalogues of the
college. While in college, they had the privilege, in common with
all residents in the city, of boarding and lodging at home. This
afforded them many comforts and advantages, though it often sub
jected them to serious inconvenience, from the length of the walk
and the frequent inclemency of the weather. The morning prayer
bell, during the shortest days of winter, preceded the dawn of day ;
but they were seldom or never tardy, either at prayers or recitation,
and, in every respect, passed through their college life without
reproach or censure. They sought but few acquaintances; but
they formed some very intimate friendships, and these were warmly
cherished, in every instance, until dissolved by death. In the latter
part of their college life, the family suffered a very severe double
affliction. George, an elder brother, aged nineteen, who had been
residing for several years with his uncle, Dr. Thomas O'Hara
Croswell, at Catskill, was brought home in declining health, and,
after a few months, died of pulmonary consumption ; and his little
sister, Jane, then about six years of age, in three months followed
him to the grave. These heavy bereavements called forth, at a
subsequent period, one of the most touching productions of Wil
liam's pen, which was first printed in the Episcopal Watchman, in
1827, under the title of
THE TWO GRATES.
There is a struggle and a strife
Within me, as I bid adieu
To all my household friends in life,
And may not say the same to you,
But leave once more, dear kindred dead !
Your lowly tombs unvisited.
To leave unmarked the heaving waves
Of that still burial ground,
Where four long years, above your graves,
The thickened turf has bound ;
And think that that rank-bladed sod
May ne'er again by me be trod.
But oftener shall my bosom yearn
Toward your calm bed of ease,
And thither thought and feeling turn
In their sad reveries ;
And never shall that cherished spot
Be in my stricken heart forgot.

1820.] COLLEGIATE LIFE. 1*
The chain of grief, time-drawn to length,
That binds me there to both,
Alas ! it strengthens with my strength,
It groweth with my growth ;
And, even now, my spirit sinks
To drag its still increasing links.
When thou wast called away, — the first
In burial as in birth, —
I thought thy parents' souls would burst
i At thy return to earth,
And prayed to bear the grief alone,
Nor add their anguish to my own.
It was too much to feel my heart
So unprepared, my brother !
With thee in this vain world to part,
Or meet thee in another,
O, may my peace, like thine, be made
Ere my cold corse is near thee laid.
While yet we struggled to sustain
The drear, soul-sinking weight,
The fatal shaft was bent again
At us disconsolate,
And thou wast summoned next — the best,
The youngest, and the loveliest.
The seeds of visible decay
Were in thee from that hour,
And thenceforth thou didst pine away,
And wither like a flower.
O God ! it was a grievous thing
To see thy bitter suffering.
Then came the poignancy of woe,
The acme or distress,
The pang which parents only know
When they are daughterless ;
But still they struggled on, and still
Submitted to their Maker's will.
Now all that of thy form survives
Is at thy brother's side,
For ye were lovely in your lives,
And death did not divide ;
3

18 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. 1820.]
And all that memory brings of thee
Is to my bosom agony.
The relics of thy golden hair,
Thy books and dresses gay,
Which it was joy to see thee wear
Upon a holiday —
These things, alas ! now thou art gone,
It wrings my heart to look upon.
Sometimes thy silvery voice I hear
Where children are at play,
But dare not lift my eye for fear
The spell will melt away ;
Too well I know the grave denies
Thy image to my waking eyes.
Still it has been to me a dear,
Though desperate, delight,
To meet thee in my dreams, and hear
Thee bless my sleeping sight ;
And waking from those visions vain,
I've wept to dream them o'er again.
And yet, so pure, why should I weep
Thy early death, sweet child ?
How might we hope on earth to keep
Thy spirit undenled ?
What but thy prompt departure hence
Could save thy angel innocence ?
" Yes, when I see, beloved child !
The evil ways of men,
My soul is more than reconciled
To thy departure then ; " *
And blessings flow to Him that died
That sinners might be sanctified.

* These four lines are distinguished by quotation marks, because they are
cited, as will be perceived by the subjoined extract, not verbatim but in sub
stance, and probably from memory, from a beautiful little poem, by Caroline
Bowles, addressed " To a Dying Infant : " —
" I look around, and see
The evil ways of men ;
And, O beloved child !
I'm more than reconciled
To thy departure then."

1821.] COLLEGIATE LIFE. 19
Now thou art in the Spirit land,
Witli the holy and the blest,
Where the wicked cease to trouble, and
The weary are at rest ;
And I am happy since I know
That thou wilt be forever so.
In carrying out the plan, already suggested, of permitting the
subject of this Memoir to tell his own story, and, as far as practi
cable, in his own language, this may be deemed a suitable time for
the introduction of some of the earher specimens of his letter writing.
During a short college vacation in May, 1821, he made, with his
brother Sherman, a visit to an uncle and other family relatives in
West Hartford. Their return home is thus noted in their father's
diary, under date of May 14, 1821 : " Sherman and William re
turned just at evening from West Hartford, having, during their
absence, visited my sister at New Hartford, and formed an acquaint
ance with their cousins in both places. They walked home from
Newington, to which place their cousin had brought them. The
distance is over twenty-seven miles ; and being unaccustomed to so
long a walk, and having pushed on at the regular rate of three
miles an hour, they were excessively fatigued. During the past week,
I had received a joint letter from thera, written at West Hartford
on the Sunday evening previous. It gave me a flattering opinion
of their talents for epistolary composition ; and being the first
which they had ever had an opportunity to write, I shall preserve it
on my files."
This letter gives an account of their journey to Hartford by
stage, and their walk, for the want of a better conveyance, to the
residence of their uncle in West Hartford, a distance of five miles.
They were encumbered with cloaks and budgets, and had some
difficulty in finding their way. But, says Sherman, in his branch
of the letter, " After much inquiry and fatigue, we at length arrived
at a place, which from the bridge, the hill, and the elm tree, which
we have so often heard of, we knew to be the land of our fore
fathers." William's branch of the letter is partially devoted to domestic
relations, but not exclusively. He speaks of their going into the
city to attend the ceremonies of the general election, which at that
period were remarkable for their pageantry, and consisted in part
of religious exercises : " I believe," he says, " I never saw so much
bustle, parade, and nonsense, in all my life. The multitude of
people was immense. A Mr.  , (Presbyterian,) from  , de
livered the sermon, from I forget where, and I cannot refer to it
very conveniently. His discourse was an hour and three quarters
in length exactly, by the watch ! " From this he turns to personal

20 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1822.
things : " We have made but little progress in horsemanship, as we
have had but little practice. We intend, however, to return expe
rienced horsemen, as they have two fine, gentle horses. There has
been but little pleasant weather, and some part of the time I have
been quite homesick  I really wish I had a camera
obscura here, for there is a most beautiful prospect from the top of
the hill."
During the ensuing college vacation, in the autumn, the two
brothers undertook another and much longer journey, and almost
wholly on foot. Having sent their trunk forward by a private con
veyance, they left home on Tuesday morning, and taking Litchfield,
Canaan, Sheffield, and other intermediate towns on their route,
arrived at Hudson, N. Y., on Saturday evening. This, for young
pedestrians, was no small effort ; but they seem to have been carried
through, according to William's account of the matter, without
any harm. Thus he writes, from Hudson, Monday morning, Octo
ber 8,, 1821 : "Dear Parents: I write to inform you that we are
here, and neither sick nor any wise fatigued  We
arrived on Saturday evening, about six o'clock, in good spirits, and
conceiving ourselves to be thoroughly experienced in the pedestrian
art. Of course, we have been five days in accomplishing our
journey, and have averaged nearly twenty miles a day. During
the whole route, we have rode but eight miles ; yet our feet were
not sore, neither were our hearts faint."
The young travellers, after visiting their friends in Catskill, pro
ceeded down the river to New York, and from thence in a packet
to their home in New Haven, where they arrived on the night of
the 20th of October. They were now ready, on the commence
ment of the college term, to enter upon the last year of their
academic life.
At this critical period, their father, feeling great solicitude for
their future welfare, addressed to each of them a letter, dated Feb
ruary 2, 1822, earnestly urging them to an early attention to the
subject of religion. And subsequently, on the 17th of July, after
they had taken their final examination in college, and had been
recommended for the bachelor's degree, he spent an evening with
them in conversation on their future pursuits and prospects. He
did not deem it his duty to exercise his authority in directing them
in the choice of their profession. In his letter, he thus expresses
himself on this subject : " It is true, that nothing would give me
greater pleasure than to see you qualified and disposed to pursue
the study of theology ; and more especially, as it might be in my
power to afford you greater facilities in this pursuit than in any
other. But should this ever be your choice, let it be the unbiased
dictate of your own heart and conscience. Either of the liberal
professions will offer you opportunities for deep scientific and liter-

1822.] CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 21
ary research, a taste for which, I hope, you will always sedulously
cultivate. Iu either of these professions, or in the fine arts, you
may, by assiduity and industry, through the divine blessing, arrive
at a creditable degree of excellence. But be assured that you can
do nothing well, nothing for your own present benefit or satisfac
tion, or for the promotion of your future welfare, without laying
your foundation on the faith of the gospel, and a love of God and
his holy precepts."
There is no evidence that this letter produced any special influ
ence on the mind of either of the brothers. Sherman subsequently
chose the profession of the law ; while William, though doubtless
well qualified by his devout and serious turn of thought to enter
upon theological studies, hesitated for a long time in his choice.
His extreme diffidence and distrust of himself led him to shrink
from the high responsibilities of such a profession. There was a
constant struggle between his inclinations and his fears. He felt
an ardent desire to prepare for the sacred office, but his convic
tions of duty were not sufficiently strong to overcome his natural
want of confidence in his fitness ; and it will be found, as we pro
ceed in his personal narrative, that it was not until a later period
that he had so far overmastered his scruples, as to present himself
for confirmation.
Soon after their graduation, at the commencement of 1822, the
two brothers opened a select school in New Haven, and received a
competent number of pupils from their principal friends in the city.
This, however, was not intended for a permanent occupation.
Sherman entered the law school during the ensuing winter ; and
from this time, the two brothers, whose interests, pursuits, studies,
amusements and diversions had hitherto been so intimately blended,
were compelled, by the allotments of Providence, to part company,
as it were, and pursue their way through life by different paths. It
is true, that their fraternal attachment, which had always been
exceedingly warm and affectionate, suffered no diminution by sepa
ration or distance. The old fountain of love and sympathy was
stirred up afresh, as often as they met or exchanged sentiments by
letter. William devoted much time to reading, always giving the pref
erence to works of substantial value, such as the English classics
and the standard poets. He seemed averse to tying himself down
to any steady pursuit. This was not the effect of instability or
fickleness, but arose from the fact that his heart refused all sympa
thy with secular concerns. He spent some time in travelling and
visiting his friends, and occasionally sought some temporary employ
ment ; but wherever he might be, or however occupied, he found
it impossible to divert his mind wholly from the one great object,

22 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1823.
which was gradually working its influence upon his heart and
conscience. He commenced a journey, with his cousin E. S., to Catskill, on
the 25th of June, 1823, the particulars of which we must gather
from his letters : — "New Youk, Friday, June 27, 1823.
" Dear Parents : The day on which we left New Haven was
eventually clear, cool, and comfortable. The passage was as pleas
ant as a smooth sea, and good company, could make it. As the
boat passed near the northern shore, there was a constant succes
sion of picturesque prospects. Highland and lowland, huts and
hedgerows, sandy banks and sunny meads, alternately presented
themselves  Some half a dozen persons were taken
on board at Stratford Point, which made the whole number about
thirty, all of whom were polite and accommodating. The boat
proceeded with the noise, as well as the velocity, of the cataract,
and arrived at Byram Cove * about two o'clock. Our thirty pas
sengers were here distributed into three vehicles. The one in which
I rode was so crammed, that I expected we should all be melted
into one mass before we reached our journey's end. Fortunately,
however, we arrived here, in good health and spirits, about half past
six. I am quite at home in our boarding house. It is a fine, spa
cious building, fronting the Battery ; its situation commanding all
the beauties of a water prospect, and enjoying all the benefits of
wholesome air. In the evening, I attended the performance of
Macbeth, at the theatre. The house was thin, and the actors,
as I was informed, were not first rate. With me, however, the
performance excited a deep interest, which was probably heightened
by the novelty of the splendid decorations and dresses, and the
beauty of the building."
This was, doubtless, the first theatrical performance that he ever
witnessed, if we except certain dramatic exhibitions by the successive
classes in Yale College. In these it would seem that he sometimes
figured, both as author and actor. But the scenery and decorations
of the stage were all new to him. The tragedy alone, however,
was sufficient to satisfy his curiosity, and he left the theatre before
the afterpiece was performed. On the following day, he went with
* Byram River, of which the Cove is the mouth, is twenty-eight miles from
the city of New York, and forms the boundary between the states of Connect
icut and New York. The steamboats owned bv independent companies were
compelled to stop and land their passengers at this point, in compliance with
a law of the state of New York, giving to Robert Fulton, Esq., for a term of
thirty years, the exclusive right of navigating the waters of the state with
steam vessels. This restriction was afterwards removed by the United States
Court, and the navigation left open and free to all.

1824.] CHOICE OF A PROFESSION. 23
his cousin to see Peale's Court of Death, and the view of Versailles,
at the Rotunda. They also visited the Museum, which, at that day,
made up the sum of sight seeing in New York. They next pro
ceeded on their way to Catskill ; and, from his account of the
matter, we learn what a formidable affair it must have been to make
a voyage on the river in the packets, which then afforded the only
comfortable conveyance between New York and the towns below
Albany : — " Catskill, Monday, June 30, 1823.
" Dear Parents : We embarked in the « Shakspeare ' on Fri
day evening. The weather was foul, but the wind fair. It only
continued long enough, however, to carry us some twenty or thirty
miles during the night. The next day, with light and heavy
breezes alternately, we reached Newburg, and, on the succeeding
morning, were within twenty-five miles of Catskill ; but a brisk
north-wester prevented our arrival till five o'clock, P. M. The
passage has been pleasant, the packet pretty, the captain civil, the
company capital."
We now pass on to the ensuing year. Early in 1824, his uncle,
Dr. Thomas O'H. Croswell, one of the principal physicians in
the village of Catskill, N. Y., kindly proposed to receive him into
his office, and give him every facility for studying his own profes
sion. Could he have reconciled himself to the idea of preparing
for a profession for which he had no taste or inclination, he might
have considered this as a most advantageous offer. To reject it,
without due reflection, would have been ungracious. He therefore,
without positively declining, merely stated some reasons for hesi
tating in his decision. This called forth a more urgent letter from
his uncle, expressing his regret at this hesitation, and a hope that
he might still be able to overcome his aversion. He now felt bound
to decline the offer altogether. He was doubtless unwilling to
devote his time to the study of any other profession than that for
which he was evidently destined ; but he may have had special
grounds of aversion to the medical profession. He was once
induced to attend a lecture at the Medical College in New Haven,
when it so happened that anatomy was the theme, and a subject was
placed on the table for dissection. He was horror-stricken, and,
after a fainting turn, came home pale and trembling. This extreme
nervous sensibility, and delicacy of feeling, were his abiding char
acteristics to the end of his life.
Having disposed of this offer, he next received an application
from another quarter, and of a very different nature. In the
autumn following, his cousin, Edwin Croswell, Esq., editor of the
Albany Argus, inquired of him what were his engagements, and
what disposition .he proposed to make of himself, in case he should

24 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1824.
not engage in professional study. This inquiry was followed by
the proposal, that he should spend the remainder of the fall and
winter in Albany, and, without making any very definite arrange
ment, should assist his cousin, either in the legislature or in the
editorial arrangements ; while he might, in the mean time, devote
some leisure to the study of law. This was considered as a flat
tering proposal ; and as it did not bind him to any definite action
for the future, he consented, by the advice of his parents, to accept
it. Accordingly, after some necessary detention, on the evening of
the 8th of November, he took his departure in the steamboat for
New York, from whence he was to proceed to Albany. He took
the earliest opportunity to announce his arrival : —
"Albany, Wednesday Evening^ November 11, 1824.
" My dear Father : The new scenes which have been constantly
presenting themselves, since I left New Haven, have not so com
pletely dissipated my mind as to render me entirely unable to collect
my thoughts sufficiently to give you some account of them. I feel
indeed that it requires some effort to write ; but it would require a
still greater to be silent. Our passage to New York was as pleasant
as rapid sailing and good company could make it ; the number of
passengers being small and select, so that the arrangements with
respect to berths, &c, were unusually commodious. We left the
wharf about the gray of the evening, and arrived in New York at
two in the morning. As soon as it was light, I had my trunk trans
ported to the Olive Branch, which sailed at ten o'clock 
We passed the Highlands by daylight ; and although it was a dismal,
rainy day, I thought their appearance was never more imposing.
The passengers were here likewise few, and the accommodations
were indifferently good. We went as rapidly as steam could draw
wood through the water, and reached this place about daybreak
this morning."
His cousin received him cordially, and had already engaged board
and lodgings for him at a pleasant boarding house, where he had two
law students for his roommates. It was now suggested to him that
he would be expected to report the debates in one of the branches of
the legislature, and assist the editor in arranging the miscellany of
the Argus. It was also proposed that he should enter his name as
a law student in the office of a friend of his cousin. The latter
proposal was not complied with ; and we shall learn, from his next
communication, how soon the whole arrangement was relinquished.
He addressed a letter to his father, on the 20th of November, in
which he speaks of his employment as taking occasional memoranda
of the legislative debates ; and this occupied so little of his time,
that his hands are left " full of leisure." He represents his cousin

1825.] STUDY OF THE LAW. 25
as kind and attentive, his boarding house snug and comfortable,
his roommates pleasant and agreeable ; and yet he confesses that
all these circumstances are not sufficient to protect him from what
he calls " the hyp." He felt, unquestionably, that " aching void,"
from which nothing could relieve him but the one thing for which
his spirit was panting. He expresses a strong desire to return
home; a measure to which, he says, he is doubly induced, by judg
ment as well as inclination. He seems to feel, for the moment, as
if necessity were laid upon him to pursue the study of the law.
On this subject he says, " I begin to grow uneasy at the thoughts
of suspending my professional pursuits any longer. I have spent
time enough in the pleasures of desultory study. I do not, however,
regret that they have detained me from an earlier application to the
law — ' not taking thought,' as Milton says, ' of being late, so it gives
advantage to be more fit.' .... As an auxiliary to Edwin,
my stay is of no sort of consequence. He would regret to have
me leave Albany, but wishes me to consult solely my own advan
tage, which, I am confident, I should do by retracing my course to
New Haven."
He speaks in this letter of the old rectory house, in which he
had spent a portion of his childhood, as looking perfectly natural.
" We were shown," he says, " into the back room opposite the
library, in which the stove and piano were precisely of the same
pattern with ours." The remainder of this letter is filled up with
pleasant gossip, and with some political hints and reflections which
would be neither seasonable nor profitable at this day, and concludes
with this salutation : " Give my affectionate remembrances to the
whole circle of relatives and friends, ' one by one, according to the
scrip.' "
To this communication he soon received a hearty response from
his father, and also from his brother Sherman, who playfully assured
him that he would be met " while a great way off," (at the end of
Long Wharf,) and received in all respects according to the parable.
He arrived at home on the evening of the 5th of December.
During the ensuing year, 1825, which he spent chiefly at home,
much of his time was given to reading ; but he probably made but
little progress in his law books. He never thought seriously of
pursuing the law as a profession, and evidently took no interest in
the study. He cherished his passion for poetry ; and it is supposed
that some of the most interesting and popular juvenile productions
of his pen were written at this period. The following fragment,
under date of 1824, is found among his loose manuscripts ; and
being in his own handwriting, and without quotation marks, it is to
be presumed that it may have been his first, and, for aught that
appears to the contrary, his last attempt at blank verse. It shows
he devout turn of his mind at this period : —
4

26 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1825.
Lord of the Sabbath, hear me — even Thou
In the beginning who didst consecrate
A meet proportion of the new-born time
To thy perpetual service, to assist
The deep infirmities of mortal kind ;
Blessing the seventh day and hallowing it
As a memorial of thine own repose
From thy creative labors, and a pledge
And presage of the glorious rest eterne
Remaining for the Israel of God.
Here let me worship, as the Hebrew did,
In the serene of yon deep vault, ere Thou,
Half veiled within the tabernacle bright,
Made thy pavilion in the wilderness,
Amid the long, white avenues of tents.
The world's great Fathers, in those primal days,
Drowned in the abyss of ages which have been,
Made each high hill their altar. Happy they
Who met together, at this holy hour,
Beneath some mountain palm, the place of prayei,
Ere temple rose, or oratory cool
Was built fast by the sea or river side 
1824.
But he had no ambition to see his writings in print ; and until
he became, afterwards, a joint editor of the Episcopal Watchman,
very few, if any, of them found their way to the press. An inci
dent may here be mentioned, to show that, while his thoughts were
ready to flow in poetic numbers, he had no desire to see them per
petuated by publication. He was invited, by the corporation of the
city, to deliver an oration, as a part of the public exercises of the
4th of July. To a youth of twenty years, this was considered as
a high compliment ; and he was unwilling to refuse. But dreading
the idea of writing a prose oration, on an occasion which had been
so often celebrated in this way, and having no hope of giving any
thing like an air of novelty to the subject, he proposed to substitute
a poem. This offer was readily accepted. The poem consisted of
several hundred lines, and contained some brilliant passages, and
was considered, as a whole, very creditable to the author. He was
requested, in terms sufficiently flattering, to furnish a copy for
publication ; but though he had so far overcome his natural diffi
dence as to deliver it with considerable animation and fluency, he
could not be persuaded to give it to the press. This poem is
probably lost, as no trace of it can be found among his papers.
He doubtless destroyed it, lest it might, at some future time, be
drawn from its concealment, and exposed to the public eye. This
would have been in accordance with his general views, in respect

1825.] EARLY POETRY. 37
to the publication of his writings, as expressed in the restriction
already mentioned in the Introduction.
How much of his juvenile poetry may have met, first or last,
with a similar fate, it is impossible to tell. A few of his early
productions have been recovered, through the kindness of his friends
and correspondents. Some, especially those of a serious or devo
tional cast, were subsequently transferred to the columns of the
Episeopal Watchman ; and others may have found their way into
the periodicals of the day. If any have been suppressed, they are
doubtless those of a lighter character. He sometimes indulged, by
way of amusement, in strains of pleasantry and wit ; but as he had
no ambition to shine as a facetious writer, he probably took no pains
to preserve copies of productions of this nature. It is not known
at what time the following was written. Though bearing date
February, 1820, it was communicated to his cousin E. S. at a much
later period. He ascribes it to an imaginary character, Mister Peter
Pattieson, whom he calls his " late lamented classmate," and affects
to be reminded of it by hearing the chapel bell in the morning,
while on a visit to New Haven. He begs his cousin to be very
particular about showing it to any body, lest it might be supposed
that he had some hand in the composition — assuring her that " the
Rowley papers are not more genuine ! "
THE CHAPEL BELL.
EEOMJ THE MANTJSCEH-T OE A LATE POOR SCHOLAR.
" The chapel bell with grief they heoid,
The dinner bell with glee." Old Song.
Dan Chaucer, in my dreaming ear
Methinks thou reasonest well —
" What jingleth in the wind so clear
As doth a chapel bell ?"
The tongue, that once roused holy clerk
To lauds and primes, is still,
In college towers, as hard at work —
As lively and as shrill.
That chape] bell no ear forgets
That once its voice has known,
And way of turning somersets
Peculiarly its own :
Hark ! how they follow round and round,
And oft in silence dance,
As if, for very joy, the sound
Had lost its utterance !

28 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. ^r182S.
Alas ! old chapel bell, to me,
Whose precious dreams are broke
By these remains of Popery,
Thy jargon is no joke !
I've mixed too much with Protestants,
And trust I ever shall,
To relish these monastic haunts,
And hours canonical.
No hooded monks, 'tis true, meet there,
O'er shrine of martyred saint ;
But martyrs we to drowsy prayer,
As lamps burn dim and faint.
As prayers grow dull and lights grow dim,
More dull and faint grow we,
Till we might well recite the hymn,
" Usque quo, Domine ! "
And duller yet that scene of gloom
Where students stretch and yawn,
Pent up in recitation room
An hour before the dawn ;
Well may the cheek with blushes glow,
To think of wrongs then done
Thy injured shade, O Cicero !
And thine, O Xenophon !
A fig for all the silly talk
Of early matin prayers,
Of long and lone suburban walk,
And bracing morning airs ;
If stomachs are unbreakfasted,
The case can scarce be worse ;
And if as empty is the head,
'Tis sure a double curse.
I'll bless my stars, which shine so bright,
When I shall be no more
Compelled to rise by candlelight,
But vote it all a bore.
I'll laugh as I have never laughed,
Nor dread the coming ill
Of meeting some protested draft
Of monitorial bill.
O, how I grudge that graduate's luck
Who has of sleep his fill,

1825.1 EARLY POETRY. 29
And snores like Captain Clutterbuck,
Released from morning drill.
He rises not at tuck of drum,
Nor with the daybreak gun,
Nor always, it is said by some,
With winter's tardy sun.
Like him, these summons I'll deride,
Draw closer down my cap,
And, turning on my other side,
Resume my morning nap.
I'll linger for a richer tone,
Till in the breakfast bell
I feel, and with the poet own,
Thy touch, Muriel ! *
From the collections of a friend, another specimen of his early
poetry may be given. A ballad, without date, bearing the title of
" New Haven," appears to have been written under the influence
of some old college reminiscences, and is exceedingly picturesque
and graphic. Parts of the ballad, however, must be omitted ; as
there are some ludicrous incidents alluded to, which, though suita
ble enough for a passing satire, it would be hardly fair to perpetuate.
The lines seem to have been suggested by seeing a colored engrav
ing of the centre of the city in a shop window.
A window in a picture shop ; it brought all back to me
The churches and the colleges, and each familiar tree ;
And, like a sunlit emerald, came glancing out between
Its pretty, snow-white palisades, the verdure ofthe Green."
O, could T write an Ode, like Gray's, " upon a distant view
Of Eton College," — could I draw the pictures that he drew, —
How would the pleasant images that round my temple throng
Live in descriptive dactyls, and look verdantly, in song.
" Tres faciunt collegium," each jurist now agrees ;
Which means, in the vernacular, "-a college made of trees ; "
And, "bosomed high in tufted boughs," yon venerable rows
The maxim in its beauty and its truth alike disclose.
Not so when, lit with midnight oil, the casements in long line,
Where more is meant than meets the eye, like constellations shine ;
And, " alma mater like," the kine, from dairy fields astray,
Make every passage where they pass a sort of milky way.

" Itrniriel's whisper in the breakfast bell."
N. P. Willis.

30 MEMOTR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1826
And on the green and easy slope where those proud columns stand,
" In Dorian mood," with academe and temple on each hand,
The football and the cricket match upon my vision rise,
With all the clouds of classic dust kicked in each other's eyes.
I see my own dear mother Church, that warned me from my sin,
The walls so Gothic all without, so glorious all within,
And, emblem of that ancient faith her hallowed courts that fills,
Reared from the adamantine rock, "the everlasting hills."
O, could the vista of my life but now as bright appear
As when I first through Temple Street looked down thine espalier,
How soon to thee, my early home, would I once more repair,
And cheer again my sinking heart with my own native air ! .

1826

We now come to an eventful year, 1826, when, having passed his
minority, and taken due counsel, and sought divine direction, he
became fixed in his purposes, and, turning away from all other
pursuits, resolved to devote himself to the study of a profession, for
which he was, in all respects, peculiarly fitted. He made a full
disclosure to his father of his doubts, difficulties, and misgivings ;
but with all his fear and trembling, he felt such trust in the help of
his heavenly Father, that he no longer hesitated in his decision.
Arrangements were accordingly made for his entering the General
Theological Seminary in New York; and at the opening of the
term in the ensuing autumn, he became a member of that institu
tion. Under date of October 17 and 18, 1826, he writes as follows :
"I am here safe in the seminary house, after a most delightful
passage. I counted about thirty passengers at table on board the
Hudson, and exchanged a word with one or two of them. . . .
At half past nine, when the boat was just opposite the revolving
Hght at Stratford, I clambered up, and laid myself to rest on the
upper shelf, spending the remainder of the night in that comfortable
kind of repose vulgarly called dog sleep. At half past three, some
of the passengers might have reported themselves where Milton has
placed his Death and Sin, " fast by Hell Gate ; " * and in another
hour we were at our place of destination. I felt grateful to Him
who is the Preserver, as well as the Maker of men, when it was so-
* So this rugged pass was usually called, instead of Hurl Gate.

1826.] THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 31
for the tremendous and incessant rumble of the engine made me
aware of my own insignificance, and the awful agency within whose
reach I lay. I could also hear the waves gush and gurgle against
the side of the boat ; and a sense of my insecurity occurred to me,
with the reflection that but a few planks separated my berth from
the billows. I rose at five, while the moon was yet shining, and
had a fine opportunity to see the morning gradually open upon the
harbor of New York. At half past six I started for Tripler's, and
arrived there in time for breakfast. I delivered my letters, found M.
and Y., and spent most of the day in unpacking and arranging my
books. I was not much surprised to find that the students all room
in couples ; and as there was but one vacancy at present, I have Hob-
son's choice both as to room and roommate. In the latter respect,
I believe I am fortunate. His name is A  . He is in the third
year ; his experience probably will be worth something ; and his
manners seem to be gentlemanly and accommodating. Ours is a back
room, high, small, and quiet. I understand that this arrangement,
with regard to apartments, is merely temporary. In a few weeks,
I expect to go in with one of my own class, probably G. . . .
(18th.) Attended the Convention. The bishop's address was inter
esting, and disclosed a wonderful amount of episcopal labors. No
less than nineteen hundred and forty persons have received confir
mation from this prelate in the course of his last visitation.
To-morrow I shall call on Dr. Turner and the professors of the
institution. I doubt not that I shall like both the mode of life and
the fashion of study. I am gratified with the prospect of renewing
academical pursuits, and hope the transition from the study of human
to that of divine law will be the period from which I may date my
years of usefulness."
This letter was immediately followed by another, under date of
the 19th, 20th, and 21st of October. He speaks of repeated attacks
of " excessive bleeding at the nose," for which he was obliged to
call in medical aid. This complaint gave him a great deal of
trouble, from time to time, in after years, and may have been indic
ative of the disease that finally caused his death. Having delivered
his letter of introduction to Professor Turner, he expresses himself
in terms of great respect and esteem, and says, " I am much inter
ested in the manner of recitation and instruction. The exercises
open with prayer ; the students then translate passages by turns,
and expound and explain, with such comments, doctrinal, critical,
and practical, as they can collect. These are corrected and com
pleted by the professor."
His next letter is under date of October 23, in which, in addition
to his accustomed allusions to domestic matters, he says, " This
morning I shifted my location to one of the most eligible rooms in
our boarding house. I anticipate much enjoyment from the society

32 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1826.
of my class and roommate, Mr. G  , an amiable young gentleman,
from one ofthe most respectable families in Maryland, and who has
been a disciple of Mr. Justice Blackstone about the same length of
time with myself. As Falstaff says, 'Would you desire better sym
pathy 1 ' . . . Professor Moore has not been well enough to
resume the recitations in Hebrew since I have been here, but is
expected to commence again to-morrow. I have reason to hope it
will thrive vigorously tinder my cultivation, if there be any truth in
Butler's adage, that  " Hebrew roots are always found
To flourish best on barren ground ; "
which I take the trouble to repeat myself, for the express purpose
of depriving the squire of that malicious pleasure. Remember, and
pray for yours always, W. Croswell."
His letters follow eacli other almost daily ; but they are chiefly
occupied with private and family concerns. From one, however,
of the 30th of October, a playful passage may be cited : " We are
yet in the very rudiments of the Hebrew, and our advances are
perfectly snail-like and imperceptible. If Professor Moore was
not one of the most mild and unassuming men of learning in the
world, he could never tolerate the stammering and blundering of
such full-grown novitiates in the Hebrew horn book. But he is
Clement by nature, as well as by name. It is related of Hutchins,
that he once indulged his disposition for pleasantry by playfully
translating a passage of Scripture, ' I love Clement C. Moore
(clemency more) than sacrifice.' "
During his father's absence from home, while attending the
General Convention in Philadelphia, he addressed his letters to
other members of the family. To his mother, under date of No
vember 6, he says, " Bishop Hobart held a sort of convocation of
all the members of the seminary, at his house,' last Thursday even
ing. He treated us with great affability and kindness, and I returned
much gratified with the visit. His late charge to the convention,
entitled ' The High Churchman vindicated,' was this day published
by the Swords ; and I have already wrapped up and directed a copy-
to the home department."
It is pleasant to record this unaffected tribute to Bishop Hobart,
and especially in connection with a publication which probably con
tributed, more than atly thing else, to settle and confirm this young
candidate for the sacred ministry in those sound views of church
policy wliich he carried with him to his grave.
His next letters are addressed to his brothers, Sherman and
Frederick, and are enlivened with his usual pleasantry : " My
locks have just been shorn by that prince of haircutters, S  •

1826.] THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY. 33
but I cannot perceive that my strength is a jot abated. If you wish
to visit New York, wait till your hair is long, and let S  do the
business. He has made his fortune by it, and ranks it among the
higher sciences. He seats you, on a seat like a music stool, before
a large mirror, and, standing unmoved himself, he twirls you round,
till every quarter of the cranium comes under his comb and scissors.
During the operation, he discourses like an oracle on phrenology,
and the manner in which the hair is to be adjusted to compensate
for any disproportion of the features. As my visage is long, he
advises to wear it flat on the forehead, to aid the defect of breadth !
and yet I have not fallen away in flesh since I left home. If en
gaged, he turns your attention to the paintings with which the room
is adorned, and talks as scholarly and technically about the art
as any connoisseur. ' That,' for instance, ' is either a Kubens or
Correggio ; critics are not agreed. If it is a Rubens, it was done
when he tinted highly, and imitated Correggio, as was the case when
he studied in Italy,' &c. He was pleased to compliment me on
my taste for the fine arts. I might have told him, I was no great
judge myself, but that I had a brother who went about judging."
In a later letter, he gives a graphic description of the new sem
inary house, which was then in progress of building. To those now
acquainted with its condition, and the full-built streets around it, the
change in about twenty-five years will seem marvellous : " We found
the edifice in a beautifully-sheltered and secluded spot, within a
stone's throw of the North River. It is built of irregular stone,
and shows through the trees like a genuine antique ; turrets, but
tresses, battlements, heavy Gothic casements, and all that sort of
thing, conspiring to give it the air of ' cloistered solitude.' We shall
probably take possession of it early in the spring."
This anticipation, so far as he was concerned, was never realized.
In his last letters from the seminary, he discloses the fact of his
having frequent ill turns, speaks despondingly of his general health,
and expresses some doubts as to the expediency of remaining at
the seminary. To this his father replies, under date of November
23, 1826, "With regard to your continuance at the seminary, I
wish to leave it entirely to your unbiased judgment and inclination.
If an important advantage is to be gained by it ; if you can acquire
there knowledge which is essential, and which cannot be acquired
elsewhere in the same time ; and if, every thing considered, you
think it best, I wish you by all means to stay. You need not, in
this case, regard any sacrifice which I may make in a pecuniary point
of view ; for you may rest assured that it will be made most cheer
fully. My desire is, that you should fit yourself for that usefulness
which your talents encourage you to strive for ; and in whatever
way this can best be promoted, I leave you freely to decide. Wher
ever you are, and under whatever circumstances you pursue your
5

34 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.
studies, be careful to cherish that spirit of piety and devotion
without which learning and talents will avail nothing ; and look
forward to your profession as a scene of arduous labor, not to be
rewarded in this world except by the answer of a good conscience,
and that peace of God which passeth understanding, and which the
world can neither give nor take away."
Finding no permanent improvement of his health, and being
threatened with a fever, he was advised by his physician to return
home, and relinquish his studies, at least until after the ensuing
Christmas vacation. This advice was reluctantly followed, but evi
dently not too soon for his benefit. He was much debilitated, and
required the peculiar care which he could not expect in a large
boarding house, though his roommate was exceedingly kind and
attentive. He soon recovered his strength, and, on the festival of
Christmas, was able to attend the church in which he was nurtured,
and had the privilege of receiving the holy communion, for the first
time, at the hands of his father.
At this period, another change, not of his own seeking, awaited
him. The Churchmen of Connecticut were desirous of establishing,
at the seat of the new college in Hartford, a weekly journal, as the
exponent of the principles and views of the Church ; and our young
candidate for holy orders was selected, and earnestly solicited, by
the bishop, who was then president of the college, as well as the
professors and other resident clergymen, to leave the seminary, and,
while still pursuing his. theological studies, to assume, jointly with
Professor Doane, the editorial management of this paper. This
offer was doubtless designed to hold out many advantages ; but his
father, who knew experimentally the vexations and troubles of an
editorial life, fearing it miglit over-task the powers both of his body
and his mind, very naturally objected to the plan. These objections,
however, were overruled ; and early in the ensuing year, he accept
ed the offer, and removed to Hartford.

1827.

His correspondence, at this period, relates chiefly to personal
matters, to his preparations for commencing the new paper, and to
his pleasant relations with the associate editor. He writes with
great vivacity, and indulges occasionally in his native vein of pleas
antry ; but he is never for a moment forgetful of the obligations
of his Christian profession. Under date of March 3, he writes,
" I have, a second time, received the holy sacrament of the body

1827.J EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 35
and blood of Christ, and desire your prayers that I may receive the
full benefit of his atonement, aud be prepared to meet him with
joy-" Of the friendship contracted by this editorial arrangement, no
one can speak so truly and so feelingly as Bishop (then Professor)
Doane himself. This is the language of his commemorative ser
mon : "It was in 1826 that our intimate relations commenced; and
man has never been in closer bonds with man than he with me, for
five and twenty years. A letter from him to a mutual friend, the
witness and the sharer of our earliest years of happiness, brings
down the tokens of his unswerving confidence and perfect love
within the latest fortnight of his life. . . . Our intercourse
was intimate at once, and we never had a feeling or a thought
to part us."
The paper of which he was to assume the joint editorship was
entitled The Episcopal Watchman ; and after some unavoidable
delay, the first number was issued on the 26th of March, 1827.
From this time, his aversion to seeing his productions in print was,
of course, removed ; and he not only brought to light some of the
effusions of his pen, which had thus far been concealed from the
public eye, and confined exclusively to private hands, but he fur
nished for each successive number of the paper, besides his due
proportion of prose articles, some poetical contributions. Among
these, a series of Sonnets, under the signature of Asaph, will take
the first place in our selections. The following appeared in the
first number : —
O Thou, whom slumber reacheth not, nor sleep,
The guardian God of Zion, in whose sight
A thousand years pass like a watch at night,
Her battlements and high munitions keep,
Or else the Watchman waketh but in vain.
Him, in his station newly set, make strong,
And, in his vigils, vigilant ; sustain
His overwearied spirit, in its long
And lonely round from eve till matin song ;
And of Thy charge remind him, " Watch and pray."
So, whether coming at the midnight bell,
Or at cock crowing, or at break of day,
Thou find him faithful, and say, " All is well,"
How rich is the reward of that true sentinel !
" Could it have been any better, or any different," asks Bishop
Doane, in his commemorative discourse, " if he had been premon-
ished of his course through life, or if he had written it on the day
on which his life was closed ? "

36 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827
The following Sonnet was next in order, and appeared near the
close of the Lenten season : —

LENT.
The holy Lenten time is now far spent ;
And from the muffled altars, every where,
Full many a warning voice has bid prepare
The Lord's highway, and cried aloud, Repent !
And be your hearts, and not your garments, rent ;
And turn unto the Lord your God with prayer.
Not, as aforetime, are the contrite sent
To sackcloth, ashes, and the shirt of hair.
Or knotted thong ; but! consciences laid bare,
And lowly minds, and knees in secret bent,
And fasts in spirit, mark the penitent.
Let not the broken hearted, then, despair ;
The sighs of those who " worthily lament"
Their sins reach Heaven, and are accepted there.
The next evidently points to his own conformity to the instituted
rites of his Church : —

CONFLRMATION.
The white-stoled Bishop stood amid the crowd,
Novitiates all, who, tutored to revere
The mitre's holy offices, drew near,
And, after sins renounced and pledges vowed,
Pale with emotion and religious fear,
In meek subjection, round the chancel, bowed,
To hallowed hands, that o'er them, one by one,
Fell with a Prelate's thrilling benison.
Thou, who canst make the loadstone's touch impart
An active virtue to the tempered steel,
O, let Thy hand rest on them, till they feel
A new-born impulse stirring in the heart,
And, swinging from surrounding objects free,
Point with a tremulous confidence to Thee.
The Sonnets, with one or two exceptions, are devotional, and
adapted to sacred occasions. Even when he stoops to apostrophize
an humble flower, his thoughts rise intuitively to heavenly musings.
Here we have a striking example : —

1827.] . EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 37

TO THE HEPATICA TRILOBA,
POUND IN MARCH.
Why liftest thou, so premature, thy head
Amid the withered waste, pale flower ? Say, why
Dost thou, alone and desolate, defy
The year, yet unconfirmed, while there is shed
No wholesome dew upon thy leaf-strewn bed,
All choked and matted, but the frost wind's sigh
Is heard, at eve, thy chill slope rustling by ?
Hast thou forgot thy time, or dost thou spread
Thy Sweet leaves to the air, and smiling wave
'Mid blasted verdure, like the garland shed
By fond affection, o'er the early grave,
To breathe its bloom around the youthful dead ?
Short be their sleep in dust as thine, fair flower ;
So wake to life and joy when past their wintry hour !

In the following he affects the style and orthography of some of
the older English poets. Whatever may be objected to this, as a
matter of taste, it must be admitted that it throws no obscurity over
the devout sentiments inculcated ; nor does it interrupt the charac
teristic smoothness and easy flow ,of his versification.

ENFANT BAPTISM.
Howe heavenlie an inheritance is thine,
Sweet babe ! whom yon baptismal groupe present,
Nowe that the consecrating elemente
Hathe bathed thie forehead, and the crucial signe
Is as a frontlet bounde between the eyne,
In token that hereafter thou shalt be
A faithfull soldier in the cause divine,
And, in thie triple warfare, manfullie
Beneath the banner of the Crosse shalt fighte.
If Christe himself so tenderlie invite
The little children to his heavenlie fold,
They mocke his ordinance, and doe despite
Unto his highe beheste, who dare withholde
Or yet delaye the pure, regenerating rite.

38 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.

WASHINGTON (NOW TRINITY) COLLEGE.
" In after days shall come heroic youth,
Warm from the school of glory." With a pride
I quote thy high prediction, Akenside,
In joyous hope to realize its truth,
Ere envious Time print his undainty tooth
Upon these sombre walls, which then descried
'Mid groves that half develop and half hide,
Shall haply stay some loiterer by the flow
Of Hart's sweet waves, that gladden as they glide
By wooded steep, green bank, and margin low,
Till o'er his soul float up in classic dream
The long-lost image of the Portico,
The Sophist's seat, fast by Ilyssus' stream,
Lyceum's green retreats, and walks of Academe.

TO A WINGED FIGURE BY RAPHAEL.
Whether thou gazest up to some far isle
In the star-sprinkled depths above, where live
The race from whom thou art a fugitive,
Unseen, unheard from, for a dreary while ;
Or whether seeking to restrain the smile
That rises to thy lips, thy fingers strive
To hide what eyes so bold and bright contrive ;
Or whether meditating good or guile,
Thou restest on thine arm contemplative —
Are problems deeper than the thought can dive.
But if thy breast be not a holy pile,
Where nought unclean hath entered to defile,
Then Heaven forgive thee, false one ! and forgive
That I should trifle with a theme so vile.

CHRIST BEARING THE CROSS.
PAINTED ET DUNLAP.
If thou wouldst fortify thy young belief,
Christian disciple, read with anxious look
The pictured comment on the holy book,
That tells the sufferings of thy chosen Chief,
Nor let the look be single, neither brief:

1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 39
That tortured eye, and countenance so meek,
So mild, and yet majestical, bespeak
The Man of Sorrows, intimate with grief.
From him learn how divinity could lend
A dignity to suffering, nor disdain
Art's utmost effort in one face to blend
Immortal fortitude with mortal pain ;
And let not faith despise the aid of sense,
Nor spurn the " pencil's mute omnipotence."

SAINT BARTHOLOMEW.
Though it were eminence enough to be
Enrolled among the apostolic few,
Who, at their Master's call, devotedly
Went forth his self-denying work to do,
This is not all thy praise, Bartholomew ;
Thou for such fellowship wast set apart
By One who saw thee from afar, and knew
Thy spirit undefiled and void of art.
And still the portrait which thy Savior drew
Bears record to thy singleness of heart.
For wide as Gospel tidings have been spread
Throughout all tongues, o'er continent and isle,
Shall this memorial to thy worth be read —
" An Israehte indeed, in whom there is no guile."

THE KNELL.
Not e'en thy heavenly and harmonious swell,
Calling to Sabbath worship with a sound
From tower to tower reverberated round,
Can with my spirit harmonize so well
As that sad requiem, melancholy bell !
Which with unvaried cadence, stern and dull,
Tolls for the burial of the beautiful.
There is a potent and a thrilling spell
In every solitary stroke, to start
Long-cherished thoughts from memory's inmost cell,
And deep affections ; while each warning tone
That rests, 'mid solemn pauses far apart,
Like drops of water dripping on a stone,
Cheerless and ceaseless, wears into the heart.

40 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.

SAINT MATTHEW.
Renouncing a vocation so abhorred,
Uncertain riches and the lust of gain,
How blest it were, commanded by the Lord,
While yet he passes by, to join his train,
And taking up his cross, to walk like thee !
Nor be the power of those examples vain
Which thine own sacred registries record ;
But written for our learning may they be,
Read, marked, discerned, digested inwardly,
Until we see the path of duty plain,
Embrace the truth, and ever hold it fast,
And pressing onward, daily self-surpassed,
By comfort of that holy word, attain
The same eternal promises at last.

SAINT LUKE.
Blessed Physician ! from thy ancient scroll
Can we not draw some wholesome medicine
To heal the heart that sickens with its sin,
And cure the deep distemper of the soul?
Is there no balm in Gilead, to make whole
The bruised and broken spirit, and within
The bleeding bosom stanch the wound, and win
The stubborn malady to its control ?
Blessed Physician ! happy is thy dole,
Whose praise hath in the Gospel ever been ;
For thou wast His disciple who could bring
Help to the helpless on their bed of pain,
And from the gates of double death again
Restore the hopeless in their languishing.

THE KNOT.
Holy and happy be the wedded pair,
Who, typifying here the solemn rite
To which the Bridegroom and his Church invite
The good in heaven hereafter, hope to share
The glories of his great espousal there —
They, when he cometh at the dead of night
In triumph with the Spirit and the Bride,

1827.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 41
Shall go to meet him, with their odorous light
Well trimmed and burning steadily and bright,
And entering in together, side by side,
In wedding garments robed of purest white,
And crowns of gold, and waving boughs of palm,
Sit down among the hosts beatified,
Guests at the marriage supper of the Lamb.

CHRISTMAS.
O, haste the rites of that " auspicious day,
When white-robed altars, wreathed in living green,
Adorn the temples," and half hid, half seen,
The priest and people emulously pay
Glad homage, with the festal chants between ;
And aisles and arches echoing back the strain,
The sylvan tapestry around is stirred ;
And voices sweeter than the song of bird
Are resonant within the leafy fane.
If, in the fadeless foliage gathered there,
Pale nature has so bright an offering,
Where all beside is withered, waste, and bare,
What lively tribute should our spirits bring
To beautify, O Lord, thy holy place of prayer ?

SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST.

- The disciple whom JestiB loved."
Qospelfor the Day.

O highly favored, unto whom 'twas given
To lay thy hand upon the golden keys
That ope the empyrean mysteries,
And all the bright apocalypse of heaven !
Sweet solace of thy sorrowing soul, when driven
Into its island banishment alone.
Thy rapturous spirit has been long at rest,
Partaker of the glories then foreshown,
And knowing even as thy thoughts were known.
And if to bide His baptism be the test,
And drink the cup peculiarly His own,
Then thou hast gained thy mother's fond request,
And, stationed near the everlasting throne,
Shalt lean once more upon thy Savior's breast.
6

42 MEMOIR OF WTLLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.

WINTER.
The moon and stars light up their wintry fire ;
And kindling with a lustre more intense,
As if to quell the frosty influence
Which wraps the world in its unstained attire,
They draw our spirits heavenward to admire.
Nor them alone. For in the marbled sky
Ten thousand little snow-white cloudlets lie,
In fleecy clusters ranged from east to west,
Which meet the toil-worn swain's exalted eye,
As when he sees upon the upland's breast
His own unspotted flock at silent rest,
With all their new-born mountain lambkins by,
And to his meditative mind recall
The mighty Shepherd that o'erlooks them all.

Having published the foregoing Sonnets, under the signature of
Asaph, in the first volume of the Watchman, he reserved for the
last number the following Valedictory, in which he relinquishes the
name, and modestly and gracefully lays aside the harp of the chief
musician of Israel's minstrel king : —

SONNET.
VALEDICTORY.
Why have I dared to wake the sacred string,
Silent for ages, fearing not to hold
High harping with that glorious bard of old,
The chief musician to the minstrel king ?
Alas ! that e'er presumptuous hand should bring
Dishonor on that borrowed name, or wrong
The leader in the service of the song.
Though fain to make his loud shoshannim ring
In concert with the consecrated throng,
Who in their solemn courses, all life long,
Kept Zion's courts resounding with its swell,
So faint and fitful are the sounds I fling,
My soul recoils lest they profane thy shell ;
Farewell, then, hallowed harp ! forever fare thee well !
Asaph.

1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 43
To this Valedictory he received a prompt response from one
whose reputation as a poetess is now so well established, and whose
name has been so long and so favorably known to the public, that
we feel no delicacy in ascribing it to Mrs. L. H. S. : —

TO ASAPH,
OCCASIONED BY HIS VALEDICTORY SONNET.
O, not farewell, deft ruler of the lyre ;
Sweet singer of our Israel, not 'farewell ;
Thou early called amid the temple choir,
The glad, high praises of our God to swell.
Levite and priest, who Zion's anthem led,
Had trembled if their solemn string were mute,
If the soul's pulse of melody were dead,
Or hushed the breathings of Jehovah's lute :
Wouldst thou forego the baptism of the skies ?
Down at the altar's foot thy censer cast ?
Hide in the earth a gift that seraphs prize,
Yet "faithful" hope to be pronounced at last ?
Minstrel, return ! Resume the hallowed strain ;
Repent thee of thy sin, and woo Heaven's harp again. H.
To such a call, from such a source, the young bard was not
insensible ; nor could he find it in his heart to turn a deaf ear to
the sweet strains of the enchantress. Hence the following

PALINODE.

4 Lady, for thee to apeak, and be obeyed,
Are one."

While I, adventurous all too long, retire,
Expecting scarcely pardon, much less praise,
The unstrung chords what sweeping spirit sways s
What sudden murmurings from the abandoned lyre
Pass on the breeze, and, as they pass, expire ?
O, could my disproportioned powers retain,
Forever treasured up, that cherished tone,
And blend, yet not abase it, with my own,
Its sweet reproaches had not been in vain ;
Yea, could I, kindled with a kindred fire,

44 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.
But hope to catch the echoings of that voice
Which bids my harp renew its feeble strain,
How would my bounding bosom then rejoice,
Nor breathe distrust of God's good gifts again ! Asaph.
But these Sonnets constituted only a small portion of his poetical
contributions to the columns of the Watchman. A few pieces are
selected, which appeared without any signature, but which, from
being found in his manuscript collections, are known to be from
his pen.
The first of the two following Sonnets was written soon after
the ordination of Jacob Oson, a colored man, of middle age and
respectable talents, who had been engaged by the Domestic and
Foreign Missionary Society of the Church to enter upon the duties
of missionary in Liberia : —

Joy to thy savage realms, O Africa !
A sign is on thee that the great I AM
Shall work new wonders in the land of Ham ;
And while he tarries for the glorious day
To bring again his people, there shall be
A remnant left, from Cushan to the sea.
And though the Ethiop cannot change his skin,
Or bleach tho outward stain, he yet shall roll
The darkness off that overshades the soul,
And wash away the deeper dies of sin.
Princes, submissive to the Gospel sway,
Shall come from Egypt ; and the Morian's land
In holy transport stretch to God its hand :
Joy to thy savage realms, O Africa !

But this joyful anticipation was never realized in the person of
Mr. Oson ; for after he had received his outfit, and while making his
preparations for embarking to the contemplated field of his future
labors, he fell into a distressing sickness, which in a few months ter
minated fatally. "By this providential dispensation," says the editor
of the Watchman, " the great cause of African improvement is de
prived of a most devoted servant, and the hopes of our society are for
the present frustrated ; Mr. Oson being the first missionary they have
been able to obtain for this service, after years of inquiry. Until a
few days before his death, Mr. Oson entertained strong hopes of
being able to embark in the brig Liberia ; but finding himself com
pelled to abandon his long and fondly cherished expectations, he

1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 45
calmly resigned himself to the will of God, earnestly praying that
other laborers might be raised up, to enter into the field to which
he had been looking with so much anxiety." And to this notice he
appended the following Sonnet : —

Not on the voyage which our hopes had planned
Shalt thou go forth, poor exile, o'er the main ;
The savage glories of thy fatherland
Shall never bless thy aged sight again ;
Nor shalt thou toil to loose a heavier chain
Than e'er was fastened by the spoiler's hand.
And yet the work for which thy bosom yearned
Shall never rest, though sin and death detain
Messiah from his many-peopled reign,
Till all thy captive brethren have returned.
But thou hast gained, (O, blest exchange !) instead,
A better country, and a heavenly home,
Where all the ransomed of the Lord shall come,
With everlasting joy upon their head.

Still another Sonnet is selected from the first volume of the
Watchman, which appears to have been suggested by the death
of the Rev. Abiel Carteh, rector of Christ Church, Savannah,
Georgia : — As some tall column meets its overthrow,
And levelled in the dust reclines, at length,
In all its graceful symmetry of strength,
So manhood, in his middle years, lies low,
Singled by death from out the stateliest,
While yet he lifts his towering head elate,
And feels the firmer for the very weight
Of all that in dependence on him rest.
Ah, why should we bewail his present fall,
Though prostrate now, and basely undertrod,
If, at the Master Builder's final call,
He stand amid the upright as before,
A pillar in the temple of his God,
And from his happy station go no more.

The next two pieces are of a strictly devotional character : —

46 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.

HYMN.
When Thou, the vineyard's Visitant,
To look on thy degenerate plant,
Shalt hither take thy way,
And find it green and flourishing,
Curse not the unproductive thing,
Nor to the dresser say, —
" How long shall I, from year to year,
Come seeking heavenly frruitage here,
And none, alas ! be found ?
In vain'it rears its leafy crown
In barren pomp. Cut, cut it down :
Why cumbereth it the ground ? "
Lord, listen to my earnest prayer,
And yet a little longer spare
The blighting of thy frown.
But let the gardener prune and dress,
And dig around its barrenness,
Before thou cut it down.

SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN.
* Suffer the little children to come unto me, and forbid thera not"
Savior ! thy precept is not hid,
Nor is thy love forgot ;
We come, v^hom thou didst not forbid,
And man forbids us not ;
To Thee we come, the Guide that brings
The erring strays of sin
Back from their early wanderings,
Thy fold to enter in.
To us thy heavenly grace impart,
And let the words of truth
Be inly grafted in our heart,
And nurtured in our youth ;
So shall its strong and thrifty shoots
From year to year increase,
And, with thy blessing, yield the fruits
Of righteousness and peace.

1827.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 47
O, with the seed thy sowers sow
That timely dew distil
By which we may not only know,
But love and do thy will.
So shall its rooted strength defy
The storms of life, and spring,
With ever-lifted head, on high,
In ceaseless blossoming.
Though feeble is our strengtli and weak,
Yet do not thou repress
Their near approach who early seek
Thy love and holiness.
O, hear us, as with one accord
Our grateful song we raise ;
And out of children's mouths, O Lord,
Again perfect thy praise.
The following complimentary lines to a lady are shorn, in the
manuscript copy, of the last stanza, but are here inserted entire
from the Watchman : —

e

XO * * * *
Lady ! to whom belong
The will and power to roll
The tide of music and of song
That overflow the soul,
The stream has passed away,
But left a glittering store,
Deposited in rich array
On memory's silent shore, —
A strand of precious things,
Where in confusion lie
The wrecks of high imaginings
And thoughts that cannot die.
O for that voice alone,
Whose full, refreshing flow
Could on the troubled soul its own
Serenity bestow.
Why should those streams be mute
Which brighten as they roll,
Nor in their liquid lapse pollute,
But beautify the soul ?

48 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827.
O, tranquillize, refine
The heart, till it shall be
As in its primal day divine,
And full of Deity.

Among the selections of the present year, three other short
pieces may be added. The first was one of his earliest produc
tions, having been written on visiting his parental home, after his
first going abroad into the world. It was addressed to his cousin
E. S., and afterwards published in the Watchman, 1828 : —

HOME.
I knew my father's chimney top,
Though nearer to my heart than eye,
And watched the blue smoke reeking up
Between me and the winter sky.
Wayworn I traced the homeward track
My wayward youth had left with joy ;
Unchanged in soul I wandered back,
A man in years, in heart a boy.
I thought upon its cheerful hearth,
And cheerful hearts' untainted glee,
And felt, of all I'd seen on earth,
This was the dearest spot to me.
The next was also probably an early production, being found
among his loose manuscripts, without any date : —

STANZAS.
Yon distant tower of old gray stone,
The verdure of the trees,
The golden sunlight o'er them thrown —
What fairer scene than these ?
The organ and the Sabbath bell,
Blent like the far-off sea —
What tones the raptured heart can swell
Up to such ecstasy ?
To human sympathies the sight
Is dearer far within,

1827.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 49
When all, on bended knees, unite
In penitence for sin ;
And heavenlier far the thoughts they raise,
When human voices there
Swell high the glorious tide of praise,
Or breathe the contrite prayer.

The following was first published in the Watchman, and after
wards copied into several of the contemporary periodicals : —

DRINK, AND AWAY.
" There is a beautiful rill in Barbary received into a large basin, which
bears a name signifying ' drink, and away,' from the great danger of
meeting with rogues and assassins." Dr. Shaw.
Up, pilgrim and rover!
Redouble thy haste,
Nor rest thee till over
Life's wearisome waste.
Ere the wild forest ranger
Thy footsteps betray
To trouble and danger,
O, drink, and away!
Here lurks the dark savage
By night and by day,
To rob and to ravage,
Nor scruples to slay.
He waits for the slaughter;
The blood of his prey
Shall stain the still water ;
Then drink, and away!
With toil though thou languish,
The mandate obey ;
Spur on, though in anguish ;
There's death in delay.
No bloodhound, want-wasted,
Is fiercer than they ;
Pass by it untasted,
Or drink, and away !
Though sore be the trial,
Thy God is thy stay ;
7

50 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1827-
Though deep the denial,
Yield not in dismay ;
But, rapt in high vision,
Look on to the day
When the fountains elysian
Thy thirst shall allay.
Then shalt thou forever
Enjoy thy repose,
Where life's gentle river
Eternally flows ;
Yea, there shalt thou rest thee
Forever and aye,
With none to molest thee ;
Then drink, and away!
One or two short extracts from his correspondence may here be
given, to show the current of his views and feelings at this time.
They are from letters addressed to a very dear friend, with whom
he had been intimate from his boyhood, and who was his classmate
in college. The first tells his early impressions of the theatre :
"I cannot in conscience regret the loss of the theatrical entertain
ments. I place them foremost among those temptations of the
world which I have solemnly and most sincerely renounced, and
which, by the grace of God, I shall endeavor to resist to the end
of my course." The next shows his faithfulness to his friend, after
having alluded to his entering upon the enjoyments of domestic life.
He recommends his attention to literary pursuits, and then adds,
" That these or any other pursuits should engross our minds, to the
neglect of those great and higher duties, from the discharge of
which no situation in this life can relieve or release us, may God in
mercy forbid. Without intending to sermonize, I cannot conclude,
my dear friend, without suggesting, that at no future period of your
life can you probably so well prepare for your responsibilities as
a religious being as at the present."
In the capacity of editor, as in every other occupation in which
he engaged, he labored with all diligence and fidelity ; but it must
not be disguised that it was not the pursuit of his choice, neithei
was it congenial with his taste. It brought him too directly and
too constantly before the public. In the course of the year, he felt
some misgivings as to the propriety of his remaining in this hio-hly
responsible station, and once or twice had half resolved, through
the solicitation of his friends in the seminary, and with the entire
approbation of his father, to return and finish his course in that
institution. But he found it impracticable to break up his connec
tion with the paper without disobliging his friends, and, chiefly on

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 51
this account, was induced to remain at his post. It was a thankless
office, and he soon realized all the vexations and troubles of which
he had been forewarned. He was indeed cheered by the approba
tion of his friends, flattered by the commendation of intelligent
Churchmen throughout the country, and encouraged by liberal
subscription lists ; but he could not escape the annoyance of fault
finders and meddlers ; and he was subjected, like all other editors,
to the irksome labor of revising manuscripts which, to adopt the
language of a correspondent, " he was privileged to punctuate,
encapital, and orthogrificate, it being often deemed quite sufficient
for the authors of such favors to communicate their ideas, leaving
the editor to work them into decent shape." But a much more
serious difficult)- lay in his way - the professional duties of his senior
necessarily absorbed a large portion of his attention, and hence the
principal labor of conducting the paper devolved upon the junior
associate ; and this, in addition to the original contributions of his
pen, consumed so much of his time, that the systematic pursuit of
his theological studies was materially interrupted. He was in the
midst of books, and surrounded by clerical counsellors, and warmer
friends could nowhere be found. But though gaining a general
knowledge of books, and learning something of men, he felt the
want of a regular course of preparatory instruction in his antici
pated profession. Still, influenced by the considerations already
mentioned, and especially by his personal regard for his friend tlie
professor, who had already won his entire confidence and secured
hi-s warmest afiections, he entered into engagements for another
year. It will be seen, however, that this arrangement was soon
virtually interrupted by a change of the residence of the senior
editor. In the fourth number of the new volume, the unanimous
election of Professor Doajste as assistant minister of Trinity Church,
Boston, was auuounced ; and- having subsequently resigned his pro
fessorship in the college, he removed to Boston. He did not, it is
true, entirely relinquish his interest in the paper, but the association
was nominally kept up to the end of the volume.

1828.
Notwithstanding the arrangement with his friend Doane, the
immediate care and entire responsibility of conducting the Watch
man devolved upon the junior associate. This alone was a severe
tax upon his energies ; but it did not constitute the whole sum of
his labors.
In the midst of his editorial cares, in the summer and autumn

52 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.
of 1828, he was called, in the course of providence, to a foretaste
of some of those trying scenes to which he was to become famil
iarized in the subsequent stages of his professional life. His uncle,
Seth Goodwin, Esq., of West Hartford, at whose residence he had
spent many happy days in his boyhood, and for whom he felt a
strong attachment, was taken dangerously sick with a malignant
fever, and his dwelling had become a scene of great suffering and
affliction. He hastened at once to the place, and during the whole
period of the long and distressing illness of his uncle, he was unre
mitting in his visits and attentions, frequently making the journey
of five miles on foot, sometimes remaining and watching for whole
nights, and greatly contributing by his sympathy and condolence to
the comfort of the family. The disease terminated fatally, after a
period of some sixty days. But the trials of the family did not
end here, and this sore affliction was followed by a new series of
troubles. Owing to their care, aud watching, and anxiety, together
with the infectious nature of the disease, all the surviving members
of the family were more or less affected, and two of them barely
escaped a fatal result. His feelings were deeply interested in these
scenes ; and his letters, written almost daily to his parents, bore
ample testimony to the kind sympathies of his nature, and gave a
sure earnest of his future faithfulness in the discharge of those
duties, which, though the most painful, are among the most orna
mental and admirable of a pastor's office.
While thus pursuing his course, and long before the expiration
of this engagement, circumstances began to transpire which plainly
indicated that he was to enter, much sooner than he had anticipated,
upon his more appropriate field of labor. The settlement of his
friend Doane at Boston led, almost immediately, to some overtures
for his removal to the same vicinity. As early as October, 1828, he
had a conference with his father on the subject, in which such
arguments were employed as might be most likely to dissuade him
from any hasty engagement to remove. He was told that, in gen
eral, it was bad policy for a young preacher to make his debut in
a large city, or among very critical hearers. He would naturally
feel conscious of his want of strength and skill, and of the danger
of going forth to battle in armor that he had never proved. He
would meet much to discourage and dishearten him, and might
remain always in the background, without any success in his min
istry. It was thought much better for the young beginner to go
into some quiet and retired spot, and there plume his wings, and
try his strength, and prepare for more venturous flights when he
had acquired the knowledge and experience necessary to secure
success. These arguments, whether sound or not, probably had
their influence at the time ; for, in several subsequent commu
nications to his father, he evidently adopted similar opinions, lt

1828.] ORDINATION 53
was foreseen, however, that his strong attachment to his friend, the
late professor, would bias his mind in favor of his suggestions, and
draw him into such new associations as he might propose. But the
editorial chair could not be relinquished till the end of the volume,
without subjecting the acting editor to censure. It was finally con
cluded, therefore, that he should prepare himself for his remaining
examinations, and take deacon's orders as soon as the standing
committee should be satisfied of his qualifications. All these pre
liminaries having been complied with, he was ordained deacon, in
Trinity Church, New Haven, by the Right Rev. Bishop Brownell,
011 the third Sunday after Epiphany, being the feast of the Conver
sion of St. Paul. This solemn occasion called forth from his pen
one of his most admired productions : —

THE ORDINAL.
Alas for me could I forget
The memory of that day
Which fills my waking thoughts, nor yet
E'en sleep can take away ;
In dreams I still renew the rites
Whose strong but mystic chain
The spirit to its God unites,
And none can part again.
How oft the Bishop's form I see,
And hear that thrilling tone
Demanding, with authority,
The heart for God alone !
Again I kneel as then I knelt,
While he above me stands,
And seem to feel as then I felt
The pressure of his hands.
Again the priests, in meek array,
As my weak spirit fails,
Beside me bend them down to pray
Before the chancel rails ;
As then, the sacramental host
Of God's elect are by,
When many a voice its utterance lost,
And tears dimmed many an eye.
As then they on my vision rose,
The vaulted aisles I see,

54 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.
And desk and cushioned book repose
In solemn sanctity ;
The mitre o'er the marble niche,
The broken crook and key,
That from a Bishop's tomb shone rich
With polished tracery ; *
The hangings, the baptismal font, —
All, all, save me, unchanged, —
The holy table, as was wont,
With decency arranged ;
The linen cloth, the plate, the cup,
Beneath their covering shine,
Ere priestly hands are lifted up
To bless the bread and wine.
The solemn ceremonial past,
And I am set apart
To serve the Lord, from first to last,
With undivided heart
And I have sworn, with pledges dire,
Which God and man have heard,
To speak the holy truth entire
In action and in word.
O Thou, who in Thy holy place
Hast set Thine orders three,
Grant me, Thy meanest servant, grace
To win a good degree ;
That so, replenished from above,
And in my office tried,
Thou mayst be honored, and in love
Thy Church be edified.

After his ordination, he still remained at his post as editor of the
Watchman, until his engagement was finished at the close of the
second volume. During this period, and amid his complicated
cares, his poetical talent was constantly exercised. While the char
acter of the paper, as an authentic Church journal and expositor,
was well sustained, very few numbers appeared without some devo
tional or other poetry from his pen. From these several pieces are
selected, nearly in the order in which they were published.
* Referring to the tomb of Bishop Jarvis, whose body reposes under the
chancel of Trinity Church.

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 55

SPRING.
Once more thou comest, O delicious spring!
And as thy light and gentle footsteps tread
Among earth's glories, desolate and dead,
Breathest revival over every thing.
Thy genial spirit is abroad to bring
The cold and faded into life and bloom,
Emblem of that which shall unlock the tomb,
And take away the fell destroyer's sting.
Therefore thou hast the warmer welcoming :
For Nature speaks not of herself alone,
But in her resurrection tells our own.
As from its grave comes forth the buried grain,
So man's frail body, in corruption sown,
In incorruption shall be raised again.

HYMN
FOB THE JFHIST SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Great Shepherd of our souls ! O, guide
Thy wandering flock to feed
In pastures green, and by the side
Of stilly waters lead.
Do thou our erring footsteps keep,
Whose life was given for the sheep.
O, let not us, who fain would cleave
To thy communion, stray,
Nor, tempted into ruin, leave
The strait and narrow way :
Before, us thou the path hast trod,
And thou canst lead us, Son of God.
O, let us hear thy warning voice,
And see thy arm divine ;
Thou know'st the people of thy choice,
And thou art known of thine.
Do thou our erring footsteps keep,
Whose life was given for the sheep.
Then when we pass the vale of death,
Though more and more its shade

56 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.
Around our journey darkeneth,
We will not be afraid,
If thou art with us, and thy rod
And staff console us, Son of God.

THE MISSIONARY.
O, say not that I am unkind
To friends so warm and true ;
I weep o'er all I leave behind,
I sigh to bid adieu.
But woe for my eternal lot,
If my untiring love
For Him who died for me, be not
All other things above.
Such is the law of Christ, and such
The Savior we adore,
I could not love you all so much,
Did I not love Him more.

REVEILLE.
Up ! quit thy bower ; 'tis the matin hour ;
The bell swings slow in the windowed tower,
And prayer and psalm, in the soothing calm,
Steal out, by turns, on the air of balm ;
And in solemn awe of a morn so still,
E'en the small birds sing with a voice less shrill.
Up, lady fair ! — 'tis the hour of prayer, —
And hie thee forth in the bracing air ;
Now bow the knee, while land and sea
Repose in their bright tranquillity ;
And the sun as pure a lustre throws
As the glorious dawn when he first arose.
The following is published as a paraphrase from Keble's " Chris
tian Year." On comparison, it will be found that it is rather a
contraction than a paraphrase of a much longer piece by Keble,
entitled Visitation and Communion qf the Sick.

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 57

COMMUNION OF THE SICK.
A simple altar stood beside the bed,
With plate, and chalice, and fair linen vest,
For that communion high and holy spread :
We ate and drank, and then, serenely blest,
All mourners, one with calmly parting breath,
We talked together of the Savior's death.
O gentle spirit, from thy sainted rest
Look down upon us who must yet remain,
With whom thou shared the hallowed cup of grace,
And so soon parted ; thou to Christ's embrace,
We to the world's drear loneliness again ;
Come, and remind us of the heavenly strain
We practised as thou passed through Eden's door
To be sung on, with angels evermore.

SAINT JAMES THE APOSTLE.
When Herod had put forth his hand in hate
To vex the Church, and thy heart's blood was poured
Beneath the tyrant's persecuting sword,
First of the chosen twelve, 'tis said thy fate
So wrought on thine accuser, that, o'ercome
By thine example, and by grace subdued,
He came, with voluntary fortitude,
To share the torture of thy martyrdom,
And thus pronounce his conscience satisfied.
Cheering each other onward, side by side,
Together went betrayer and betrayed,
And on the self-same block your heads were laid ;
And while your blood the self-same scaffold dyed,
The self-same faith unshrinkingly displayed.

HYMN
FOR THE EIGHTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.
All grow not on one common stem,
But separate and alone,
And by its own peculiar fruit
The good or ill is known.
How blest are they whom grace inclines
To bear the grafted good,
8

58 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.
So grateful to the longing taste,
And delicate for food !
A plant set by the river side,
It spreadeth out its roots,
And in due season bringeth forth
Abundantly its fruits.
Its thick and verdant boughs are like
The goodly cedar tree,
Whose shadow covereth the hills,
Whose branches reach the sea.
But God shall dry up from beneath
The wicked and unjust ;
Their root shall be as rottenness,
Their blossoming as dust ;
Their grapes are Sodom's grapes of gall,
And bitter as their sin ;
Their clusters, though all fair without,
Are ashes all within.
The good shall flourish as the branch
Which God for strength hath made ;
Its shady and refreshing leaves
Shall never fall or fade ;
But withered shall the godless be
In premature decay,
Aiid with a fire unquenchable
At last consume away.

SOUTH SEA MISSIONARIES.
SUGGESTED EY A PASSAGE IN STEWART'S JOURNAL.
With pleasure not unmixed with pain,
They find tlieir passage o'er,
As, with the Sabbath's dawn, they gain
That islet's rocky shore ;
Behind them is the sweltry main,
The torrid land before.
No sound was in the silence heard
To break the air of balm,
Save when the screaming tropic bird
Wheeled seaward in the calm ;
The faint and heated breeze scarce stirred
The streamers of the palm.

1828.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 59
The shipman in the distance sees,
Across the glowing bay,
The crowded, straw-built cottages,
Like sunburnt ricks of hay,
Beneath the tall banana trees,
Bask in the morning ray.
And as that self-devoted band
Of Christian hearts drew near,
No cool and bracing current fanned
The lifeless atmosphere.
Why should they seek that savage land,
So desolate and drear ?
In faith, those far-off shores they trod,
This humble six or seven,
And through those huts of matted sod
Shall spread the gospel leaven,
Till each becomes a house of God,
A mercy gate of heaven.

SONNET.
"Died, in New York, on Sunday evening last, after a short illness, the Rev. Hbket
J. Feltus, Rector of St. Stephen's Church, aged fifty-three years."
Devoted shepherd of thy Savior's flock !
From thy sublime and loved vocation rent,
'Tis joy to know the overwhelming shock
Of thy bewept departure shall augment
The multitudinous army of the good,
And raise thee to that holy brotherhood.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to kindred dust,"
Thy body is committed to the ground ;
Thy spirit, with all Christian graces crowned,
Such is our certain confidence and trust,
Enjoys communion with the sainted just.
Long may such servants of the Church abound,
And, from the altars where thy light has stood,
Shed burning lustre on the land around !
Another funeral Sonnet is here introduced, and with it a narra
tive which will best explain the occasion on which it was written.
J. Ashmun, Esq., agent of the American Colonization Society, and
governor of the colony of Liberia, had fo,und it necessary, in the
spring of 1828, on account of extreme ill health, to return to the

60 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.
United States, with a hope that the voyage might prove favorable
to his recovery. The passage was long and tedious, and his suffer
ings (to adopt his own language) " were nearly indescribable."
He arrived at New Haven on the 10th of August, and expired on
the 25th, in full hope and trust in the mercy of God, through his
blessed Redeemer. He had the best of medical advisers, who had
ascertained, immediately on his arrival, that his case was hopeless ;
and he was surrounded by the kindest and most attentive of friends.
He had no relative present during his illness, nor was it known that
any one would be able to reach New Haven in time for his funeral.
But among hundreds of sympathizing friends, there was one most
sincere mourner. This was a little native African boy, of twelve
or fourteen years, whom Mr. Ashmun had rescued from a Spanish
slave trader, and kept near his person to the close of his life.
Much pity was excited for this poor lone mourner, who was exceed
ingly attached to his deliverer and protector ; and though perfectly
mute and silent, the big tears were seen rolling down his cheeks as
often as any of the speakers, at the funeral, alluded to the character
of Mr. Ashmun. But a more thrilling and affecting incident was
yet in reserve. In the midst of the solemnities at the church, and
just as the preacher was about to name his text, a great sensation
was observed, and Mrs. Ashmun, the mother of the deceased, who
arrived at that hour in the steamboat, ignorant of his death until
her landing, drove up to the door of the church, entered the porch,
and threw herself in extreme agony by the side of the bier. It
was long before she could so far recover as to take a seat, and
attend to the services. BURIAL OF ASHMUN.
What desolate mourner rushes to the bier,
And stays the solemn rites of that sad hour ?
O God, sustain her as she draweth near,
Support her in the struggles that o'erpower !
It is a childless mother that bows down
Beside the coffined corpse, amid the crowd ;
It is the ashes of her only son,
His living face unseen for many a year :
Well may she lift her voice, and weep aloud.
The world cannot console her. God alone
Hath power to speak to such a sorrowing one,
And take her dreadful load of grief away :
To man it is not given ; for who can say,
In his own single strength, " Thy will be done " ?

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 61

HYMN.
The lilied fields behold ;
What king in his array
Of purple pall and cloth of gold
Shines gorgeously as they?
Their pemp, however gay,
Is brief, alas ! as bright ;
It lives but for a summer's day,
And withers in a night
If God so clothe the soil,
And glorify the dust,
Why should the slave of daily toil
His providence distrust ?
Will He, whose love has nursed
The sparrow's brood, do less
For those who seek his kingdom first,
And with it righteousness ?
The birds fly forth at will ;
They neither plough nor sow :
Yet theirs the sheaves that crown the hill,
Or glad the vale below.
While through the realms of air
He guides their trackless way,
Will man, in faithlessness, despair?
Is he worth less than they?

MICHAELMAS.
Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates !
While, with our brethren of the crystal sky,
God's glorious name we laud and magnify.
Angels, Archangels, Powers, and Potentates,
Dominions, Thrones, and thou, preeminent
Among the leaders of the orders bright,
Who beat in battle from the starry height
Th' apostate spirit down his dread descent.
With these. O Michael, the redeemed unite
In that triumphant and eternal hymn,
Which, passing to each other, Cherubim
And Seraphim continually do cry :
"Holy, thrice holy, Lord of love and light!
All glory be to thee, O God most high ! "

62 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.

THE SEVEN CHURCHES.
How doth each city solitary sit
That once was full of people ! Round his path
The Christian pilgrim finds remaining yet
The fearful records of accomplished wrath.
The glory of God's house departed hath ;
The golden candlestick cannot emit
One glimmering ray, however faint and dim ;
There is no consecrated oil to trim
Th' extinguished flame which once the Spirit ht.
Alas ! that he who hath an ear to hear
The teaching of that Spirit; can forget
These dread fulfilments of prophetic writ,
Nor lay them to his stricken heart, in fear
Lest he thus hear, and thus abandon it.

AFRICA.
When shall thy centre opened be ?
When shall the veil, that lay
Upon that land of mystery
So long, be torn away ?
When shall the hallowed Cross be seen
Far in those sunny tracts,
Beyond the lofty mountain screen,
And thundering cataracts ?
When shall thy daily barks, that bring
Rich lading to the sea
Of plumes of gorgeous coloring,
And choicest ivory,
And incense of acacia groves,
And costly gems, and grains
Of that most valued gold washed down
By Abyssinian rains ; —
When shall they bear a freightage back
More precious than those woods,
Whose fragrance fills the Niger's track
In seasons of the floods ?
When shall each kingdom, that receives
The Gospel, learn to prize
The treasures hidden in its loaves
Above all merchandise ?

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 63
Then bread upon thy waters cast
Shall not be cast in vain ;
But after many days are past,
It shall be found again.
Then thy barbaric sons shall sue,
Nor nature's self resist,
An entrance for their kindred true,
The dark Evangelist.

SONNET.
In the recesses of the western wood,
In to its very heart, — by all forgot
Save Him who made me, — would it were my lot
To bear the burden of its solitude ;
And in some wild and unfrequented spot,
Sharing the Indian hunter's cabin rude,
To lead, in glad return, a. willing guide,
His humbled spirit to the Crucified ;
And in the solemn twilight, hushed and dim,
The forest people often gathering,
To make the green and pillared arches ring,
Not with the war song, but the holy hymn.
So might I live, and leave no other trace
Where I had made my earthly dwelling-place.

CRETE.
Ancient of years, the hundred-citied isle !
Still art thou left a goodly sight to see,
To breathe thine air is still a luxury,
And " man alone,'' of all around, " is vile,"
Viler than e'en thy first-born Caphtorim.*
When shalt thou be once more as thou hast been ?
When shall thy navied strength resistless swim,
And make thee, Britain like, an ocean queen ?
When, rising from the dust, shalt thou be seen
A nursing mother to the Church again,
And when, alas ! another Titus come
To rear the fallen Cross, nor reordain
In all thy cities priestly men in vain,
But leave thy name a praise in Christendom ?
* Amos ix. 7.

ol MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. T1828.

GREECE.
Upon thy sacred mountain tops,
How beautiful, O Greece,
The feet of him that publisheth
Through all thy borders peace !
Like Paul, his spirit to release
Of those high claims he seeks,
Which bankrupt all the love we owe
As " debtors to the Greeks."
A piercing cry from Macedon
Rings o'er the ocean still,
A cry from Athens, and the shrine
Upon its idol-hill.
A cry from Corinth and the isles
Of loud entreaty speaks :
Up, Christians, to your great discharge,
As " debtors to the Greeks."

SAINT THOMAS.
When from their native Palestine
The twelve spread far and wide,
Alone he went from Salem's shrine
On to the Ganges' side.
The greensward was his dying bed,
And from the crimson sod
His blood, which Brahma's children shed,
Went reeking up to God.
On that foundation, long unsought,
For eighteen hundred years,
A Middleton and Heber wrought,
And their successor rears.
The Church for wliich his biood was spilt,
How can it be o'erthrown,
On Prophets and Apostles built,
With Christ the corner stone ?

1828.] EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 65
CHRISTMAS.
" The glory of Lebanon," &c. Isaiaii.
The thickly-woven boughs they wreathe
Through every hallowed fane,
A soft, reviving odor breathe
Of summer's gentle reign ;
And rich the ray of mild green light
Which, like an emerald's glow,
Comes struggling through the latticed height
Upon the crowds below.
O, let the streams of solemn thought,
Which in those temples rise.
From deeper sources spring than aught
Dependent on the skies.
Then, though the summer's glow departs,
And winter's withering chill
Rests on the cheerless woods, our hearts
Shall be unchanging still.
SAINT STEPHEN.
" And all that were in the council," Sets.
With awful dread his murderers shook,
As, radiant and serene,
The lustre of his dying look
Was like an angel's seen,
Or Moses' face of paly light,
When down the mount he trod,
All glowing from the glorious sight
And presence of his God.
To us, with all his constancy,
Be his rapt vision given,
To look above by faith, and see
Revealments bright from heaven,
And power to speak our triumphs out
As our last hour draws near,
While neither clouds of fear nor doubt
Before our view appear.
9

66 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1828.

SAINT PAUL.

The holy saints of old,
On God's commission sent,
Their high and heavenly station hold
Above our measurement ;
They shine, each unapproachable,
A constellated star,
And in their glorious beauty dwell,
Companionless, afar.
But let us not forget
That we are kin to these,
Men of like passions, and beset
With like infirmities ;
Nor will their spirits emulous
Our brotherhood contemn ;
As erst they have been one with us,
We may be one with them.
Still round our darkling road
Their heavenly light they shed,
And guide our feet to their abode,
And show where we must tread.
Then let the souls whom Christ sets free,
Ere yet that light be dim,
Be strong, O Paul, to follow thee,
As thou hast followed Him.

The following lines, as the title indicates, were published in the
last number of the Watchman issued in 1828 : —

THE DYING YEAR.
Hark to thy last hour's passing knell,
A startling sound to hear :
Eternally we bid farewell
To thee, departing year !
Go join the long-gone centuries,
Thy sisters dim and gray ;
For soon, with all thy power to please,
Thou shalt be dim as they.

1829.1 EDITORIAL EMPLOYMENT. 67
'Tis o'er, thy weight of weal and woe,
And nearer lies the bourn
To which though all life's travellers go,
No travellers return.
O, who can read thy doomsday roll
Of days and hours misspent,
Nor seek a refuge for his soul
From their just punishment ?

Finally, at the conclusion of the second volume of the Watchman,
his engagement was brought to a close. The two editors jointly
resigned their charge in a farewell address, of which the following
are among the concluding paragraphs: "The period at vvhich our
solemn obligations, as servants of the Lord Jesus Christ, call us,
in devoting ourselves exclusively to the work of the ministry, to
relinquish the editorial labors and responsibilities, appears to us
pregnant with the most eventful interest to the Church of our duty
and of our love. That the ministrations of her bishops and other
clergy have been singularly blessed, we have occasion for fervent
thankfulness to God ; and in the increasing disposition, in the whole
community of which we are a part, to hear the word at her mouth,
we have great encouragement to renew our labors with diligence,
and our prayers with confidence. . . . Finally, brethren, fare
well. Be perfect, be of good comfort, be of one mind, live in peace ;
and the God of love and peace be with you all. Amen.

1829.

Of the movements vvhich led to the first call of the newly-
ordained deacon to a pastoral charge, it is unnecessary to speak
at large. Before and after his ordination, he had many kind and
pressing invitations to visit Boston ; but besides the constant de
mands upon his time, he had other satisfactory reasons for declining
these invitations, and, above all, his extreme reluctance to oritruding
himself upon the notice and patronage of his friends. The first
official communication on the subject is contained in the following
note, receivedjiefore his ordination : —

68 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1829.
Boston, January 11, 1829.
Mr. William Croswell, Hartford.
Bear Sir : At a meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church, in Boston,
holden at their vestry room on the 18th of October, 1828, it was voted, that
John Rice, Charles Wade, and John Wilson should be a committee to
procure an assistant minister to the Rev. Asa Eaton, their rector.
As we understand it to be your intention shortly to visit our city, we beg
leave to suggest to you, by this communication, that we shall be happy to
confer with any gentleman qualified for, and who might desire to avail him
self of such a situation.
If, on your arrival, it should be agreeable to you to call on our friend, Mr.
Eaton, or on the committee, he, as well as they, will be happy to become
acquainted with you, and to confer with you on the subject.
With sentiments of respect and esteem,
We are, dear sir, your obedient servants,
JOHN RICE,
Cshairman of the Committee.
As there was nothing in this communication requiring any very
definite reply, he returned a respectful answer, but deferred the
proposed visit until after his ordination. This having taken place,
and his editorial labors being brought to a conclusion, he left home
for Boston on Wednesday, the 22d of April, 1829. At this time,
when a passage from New Haven to Boston, by railroad, is per
formed in less than six hours, it seems almost incredible that the
journey, only twenty-three years ago, should have been such a for
midable affair. Taking the stage route by Hartford, the only way
then provided, he dates from Providence, R. I., on Friday evening,
thus relieving his weariness by a little stroke of facetiousness :
" Being here in a state barely of existence, in the spirit of the
imperative mood, which is used for exhorting and entreating, 1
would beseech all in whom I have any interest to make their entry
to Boston by any other approach than that of Providence. The
only recommendation it has is, that it will be sure to wear all his
sharp points down. Never, in my born days, have I undergone
such a pilgrimage in a stage coach. The coaches are rickety, and
the roads rackety, beyond all conception. I feel very much as the
man in the poem, —
' Seven centuries bounced he from cavern to rock,
And his head, as he tumbled, went knickety knock,
Like a pebble in Carisbrook well.' "
He arrived at Boston on Saturday ; and on the following Sunday,
being the first after Easter, he preached for Dr. Eaton, in Christ
Church, both morning and afternoon, and performed all the services
except the ante-communion. #
Unexpectedly to him, as well as to the parish generally, Dr.
Eaton now resigned the office of rector ; and he was invited to
supply the pulpit for another Sunday before his return to New

1829.] CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. 69
Haven. On the 13th of May, he received the following official
notice of his election to the rectorship : —
At a meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church, held at their vestry
room, on Wednesday evening, May 13, 1829, it was unanimously
Voted, That the Rev. William Croswell, of New Haven, Connecticut,
be invited to become the rector of this church, at a salary of five hundred
dollars per annum ; with the understanding that the salary is to be increased
at least one hundred dollars per annum, until it amounts to one thousand
dollars. Attest, JOS. W. INGRAHAM,
Proprietors' and Vestry Clerk.
After taking time for reflection, and for the consultation of his
friends, he returned the following reply : —
New Haven, May 21, 1829.
Mr. Joseph W. Ingraham.
My dear Sir : You are hereby requested and authorized to signify to the
proprietors of Christ Church my acceptance of their invitation to assume the
rectorship of said church, with which I was favored under your hand on
Thursday morning last, for such a length of time as shall be mutually
agreeable to the parties concerned. I have come to this conclusion with
much hesitation and self-distrust ; but relying on the promised sufficiency of
God's grace, and the cordial cooperation of the members of the parish, to
sustain me in its arduous and responsible duties, I have made my arrange
ments for leaving here next week, and expect, Providence permitting, to be
prepared to enter on the service of the parish, on Sunday, the 31st inst.,
being the first after Ascension. May the blessing of God so rest upon the
proposed connection as to make it pleasant and profitable to us all, and
acceptable to him. Commending myself to your charitable consideration
and prayers, I hope you will believe me to be
Your faithful and devoted servant in Christ,
WILLIAM CROSWELL.
Accordingly, we find this as the first record in his diary :
" Sunday, May 31, 1829. Entered into the service of my first par
ish, Christ Church, Boston. In the morning, was with them ' in
weakness, and in fear, and in much trembling.' Dined with Mr.
Clark, senior warden. Attended Sunday school at noon. In the
P. M. preached on the Ascension. After service, presided in the
annual meeting of the Sunday school society for nearly three hours.'1
Having thus entered upon the arduous labors and heavy respon
sibilities of this pastoral charge, it cannot be doubted, from his well-
known diffidence and self-distrust, that he experienced all that he
expresses of weakness, and fear, and much trembling. Had he
been compelled to rely solely on his own judgment, without coun
sellor or friend, he would have found the weight of his cares alto
gether insupportable. But, providentially, he was not alone. To
say nothing of his " next friend and more than brother," there stood
by his side his venerated predecessor, ready, with almost paternal

70 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELE. [1829.
kindness, to hold up his hands, and to render him every facility in
his power for the commencement of this first stated work of his
ministry. Dr. Eaton, by his resignation, had no intention of throw
ing his young successor into any embarrassment, nor of withdrawing
his interest from the parish. The measure was doubtless dictated
by self-respect, and by a hearty desire to leave the people of his
late charge at liberty to concentrate their energies, and to make a
united effort to sustain and perpetuate the interests of the Church.
He introduced the new rector to the members of the flock, as
opportunity occurred, and by his sagacious counsel and advice con
tributed much to the mutual benefit of pastor and people.
It is pleasant to recur to some of the early sketches of his first
impressions of Boston, its institutions, its buildings, and its men.
Under date of May, 1829, he says, " Sherman would find a great
many things here to interest and entertain him. Boston certainly
goes beyond most of our cities in genuine taste, and the patronage
which it extends to literature and the fine arts. The Athenaeum
Gallery of Paintings was opened last Monday ; and although the
weather has been unpleasant, more than twenty-five hundred season
tickets, at fifty cents each, have been disposed of. There are some
beautiful paintings at the present exhibition. There is a large pro
portion of landscapes and small pieces, many of which are exqui
site. . . . The monument at Bunker Hill has been commenced
in a most noble style, the base being carried up nearly fifty feet, of
huge masses of granite, three feet by six. The work is at .present
suspended for want of funds ; but the view from the top even now,
which you gain by means of a spiral staircase inside, is very com
manding and picturesque. . . . Christ Church is truly a ' sol
emn temple,' and has a fine organ. No man, who has any music
in himself, but would be delighted with its chime of bells. . . .
Trinity Church, [then in process of building,] for its massive and
solid architecture, is far beyond any church that I have ever seen.
. . . I have repeatedly come in contact with Dr. Channing, and
have ceased to wonder at the prodigious influence which he exerts
over his party. His manners are most simple and unobtrusive.
The flow of his conversation is sweet, quiet, and placid, and his
power of the most fascinating and tranquil kind. He gains a great
deal, too, by his grave and solemn complacency, which never
relaxes into a smile."
Another step in his onward progress was now to be taken. It is
thus announced, in a letter to his father of the 22d of June : " It
is deemed so important, at this time, to create confidence in my
settlement as a permanent one, that I have acquiesced in the pro
priety of my institution at the same time with my ordination, fas
priest,] which is appointed to take place day after to-morrow."
This was accordingly done at the time proposed, being the 24th

1829.] ORDINATION AND INSTITUTION. 71
of June, the feast of St. John the Baptist; and his own account of
the double solemnity is given in a letter to a cousin, under date of
Boston, Monday morning, June 29, 1829 : " The most solemn trans
action of my whole life took place last Wednesday, when I took
upon me the awful responsibilities of the priesthood of the Church
of Christ, and was instituted rector of Christ Church. I need not
ask the prayers of you all, that grace may be given me to fulfil the
obligations then incurred. My hand is put to the plough, with a
double pledge ; and I cannot draw back without drawing back unto
perdition. The day was delightfully cool and pleasant, the congre
gation numerous, the service highly impressive ; the bishop's sermon
was excellent, and the office performed in a most apostolical man
ner. Yesterday I preached a double sermon, on the ministerial
relation and the ministerial responsibilities, from Hebrews xiii. 17 :
' They watch for your souls, as they that must give account.' But
as the day was unpleasant, the congregation was meagre ; and it is
my intention to prepare a discourse of a local nature for next Sun
day. The communion being then administered, I shall have but a
single one to write. For the last three Sunday evenings we have
had a third service ; and in the present situation of the parish, I
consider this measure to be so absolutely necessary to its growth
and prosperity, that they will be continued regularly during the
summer. Nor need you be apprehensive that this is to be attended
with any over-exertion on my part. The clergy of the city have
engaged to supply the pulpit in rotation ; and Mr. Doane will hold
himself in readiness to stand in the gap, in case of failure. . . .
I was presented by Dr. Eaton at the ordination, and was honored
with the attendance of a considerable number of the clergy."
From this time he proceeded with his manifold labors, often
preaching, notwithstanding his father's admonitions to the contrary,
three sermons, besides performing many other services, during the
day. As early as the 26th of July, he writes, in his playful manner,
" I have inflicted three discourses on the patient people of this good
city on this blessed day." The morning sermon was preached in
Trinity Church, in exchange with his friend Doane, and the other
two in his own church, where he had also the additional duty of
administering baptism to an adult and an infant, and performing,
for the first time, the marriage ceremony. " It leaves me," he says,
"very little fatigued. My voice, I find, is constantly gaining in
flexibility and compass, and I think I speak with greater ease and
clearness at the third service than at any other." In the same letter
he speaks with much gratification of his having received fifty dollars
from four ladies of his parish, to constitute him a manager for life
in the Episcopal Sunday School Union.
In some of his subsequent letters he speaks of his intention, as
far as practicable, of avoiding the labor of three entire services, in

72 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1829.
one day, without assistance ; but on Sunday evening, October 18,
he writes, « Though several hours have elapsed since the exercises
of this day of rest were over, I feel no particular sensation of wea
riness or languor. I have read three full services, and preached
three discourses, and baptized fourteen children in the afternoon,
have entered up my journal, and now hope to get ahead of time
by completing my weekly epistle before I sleep."
Indeed, the fact is disclosed by his diary and his correspondence,
that, during the whole period of his ministry in Christ Church, he
seldom or never, either at home or abroad, fell short of his three
services on Sunday, besides other occasional duties, and especially
the baptism of adults and children, which occurred on almost every
Sunday. He gives the reason for the great amount of this special
duty, in a letter to a brother clergyman, who had proposed an
exchange. He says in his diary, October 24, " The situation of my
parish was so peculiar and interesting, that I considered it an abso
lute duty to be at home. Accordingly, I wrote to Mr.  to this
effect. I stated the interest which had been created in the parish
on the subject of infant baptism, and acquainted him that I had
now a list of twenty or thirty cases which required attention imme
diately. I further informed him of the adult cases in a course of
preparation, and of my candidates for confirmation, which is very
soon to be administered. Baptism has fallen into great disrepute
and disparagement here, chiefly, I apprehend, from our close and
contagious contact, or rather envelopment, with schismatics and
heretics of all classes and descriptions."
With regard to the pastoral labors which devolved upon him
daily, such as the visitation of the sick, the destitute, and the- afflict
ed, his journal furnishes such details as can probably be found in
the experience of few other servants of Christ. It is not intended
to transfer these details to these pages. They will be brought viv
idly to view, so far as they are needed to illustrate his character, by
the testimonials with which these memoirs will be closed.
But even a life thus overloaded with care and labor was not
without its bright and sunny spots, and no one was ever capable of
enjoying to a greater degree the pleasant and delightful scenes
which lay about his path and encompassed all his ways.
His high appreciation of the beauties of natural and rural sce
nery was a source of much enjoyment. He thus describes a visit,
on a fine October day, to Pine Bank, the residence of his friend
Doane : " I went out about midday. It was the perfection of
autumnal weather. The woods were changing most gorgeously.
The atmosphere was perfectly transparent, and there was a glory in
the sunshine beyond the burning brightness of midsummer. The
scenery about my friend's seat is always picturesque and enchanting,
and reminds me of those scenes described by Isaac Walton, as ' too

1829.] CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON. 73
pleasant to be looked upon but only on .holidays.' But the aspect
under which I viewed it to-day gave it new fascinations. We clam
bered up the brow of a hill, on the opposite side of the little blue
lake, with its well-wooded and distinctly-defined banks, and its pure
and chrysolite waters. Though we could look afar off to the ' stee-
pled town and ocean blue,' there was a nearer ' cynosure of neigh
boring eyes,' ' bosomed high in tufted trees,' which captivated our
attention to their gay and high-colored draperies. We had before
us the beau ideal of poetic rhapsodies, and almost realized that
serenity wliich is to belong to the age of the righteous. The sunset
was indescribably beautiful. I returned to town by a rich moon
light, which, struggling with the haziness of autumn, invested every
thing with a sort of sleepy magnificence."
He also found many a pleasant episode, amid his daily round
of duties, in his quiet and discriminating observation of the traits
of character in the men with whom he was brought in con
tact. Having met a celebrated comedian at a public dinner, he
throws off the following sketch : "  , the comedian, was under
my eye at table, and was in himself a study. His mind was evi
dently intent on something more than the feast before him. His
object was obviously to divert the guests from his track, by an
occasional brilliant remark or lively repartee. A frequent abstract
edness of look, and perpetual motion of his lips, betrayed him to
the attentive observer. His behavior and deportment were strictly
guarded and correct, though his conversation was much courted,
and whatever fell from his lips was listened to with expectation and
honored with great applause. It evidently costs him severe study
to maintain his reputation as a wit, and it seems to be quite a ques
tion whether it does not cost him more than it is worth."
The notes of the present year must not be closed without re
cording a still further testimony of his unwillingness to engage in
any pursuit which might divert his mind from the great ends of his
ministry. He had not been long settled in Boston before a pro
spectus was issued for the publication of a new monthly magazine,
to be devoted to the interests of the Church, under the title of The
American Christian Observer. The plan met with the favor
and approbation of many leading Churchmen in New England and
other parts of the country, and several distinguished divines and
scholars were ready to pledge themselves to contribute liberally to
its pages. But it was found extremely difficult to procure the ser
vices of a responsible editor, and the office was urged upon the
rector of Christ Church. The proposal was resisted from the first
to the last ; and the following extract of a letter to his father,
November 23, will show liis reasons, not only for refusing the edit
orship, but also for an entire abandonment of the whole plan : " At
present I am disposed to think it was a happy providence which
10

74 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1829.
placed me here, and I desire no other situation. I do not, however,
intend to encumber myself with any unnecessary fetters ; and on
this account, I feel distrustful about embarking in the American
Christian Observer. It is so lately that I have been ground down
by this species of servitude, and the release has given such an elas
ticity to my spirits, that I can hardly reconcile myself to bringing
my neck again under the yoke. I never fail to tell my Hartford
friends that it is perfect felicity and bliss, in comparison to the two
long years of bondage which I spent with them. There are other
reasons ... to warrant us, I think, in the abandonment of
the whole design."
The following Hymn, written and published in the Watchman
some two years before, is inserted here, as it was now brought
forward, adapted to music, and sung in Christ Church on the even
ing of the first Sunday in Advent. The general and immemorial
usage in Massachusetts sanctioned these musical additions to the
prescribed Church service.

HYMN FOR ADVENT.
While the darkness yet hovers,
The harbinger star
Peers through and discovers
The dawn from afar ;
To many an aching
And watch-wearied eye,
The dayspring is breaking
Once more from on high.
With lamps trimmed and burning,
The Church on her way
To meet thy returning,
O bright King of day !
Goes forth and rejoices,
Exulting and free,
And sends from all voices
Hosannas to thee.
She casts off her sorrows,
To rise and to shine
With the lustre she borrows,
O Savior ! from thine.
Look down, for thine honor,
O Lord ! and increase
In thy mercy upon her
The blessing of peace.

1829.] CHRIST CHURCH. 75
Her children with trembling
Await, but not fear,
Till the time of assembling
Before thee draws near;
When, freed from all sadness,
And sorrow, and pain,
They shall meet thee in gladness
And glory again.
The Hymn which follows, " from the Latin of St. Ambrose," first
appeared in the Watchman, and is found in his manuscript collec
tions. The piece next below the Hymn was written at about this
period, and subsequently appeared in the Banner.
HYMN FOR THE FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.
Creator Spirit! come and bless us;
Let thy love and fear possess us ;
With thy graces meek and lowly
Purify our spirits wholly.
Paraclete, the name thou bearest,
Gift of God the choicest, dearest,
Love, and fire, and fountain living,
Spiritual unction giving,
Shower thy benedictions seven
From thy majesty in heaven.
Be the Savior's word unbroken,
Let thy many tongues be spoken ;
In our sense thy light be glowing,
Through our souls thy love be flowing ;
Cause the carnal heart to perish,
But the strength of virtue cherish,
Till, each enemy repelling,
And thy peace around us dwelling,
We, beneath thy guidance glorious,
Stand o'er every ill victorious.
THE BROOK KEDRON.
MHe went over the brook Kedron with his disciples." Saint John.
The Vale of thy Brook, of Life's valley so drear,
Meet emblem, dark Kedron, might be,
As it swelled in its hurried and horrid career
To the depths of a desolate sea :
Unceasingly fed with the blood of the slain
From the Temple's far height was its flow,

76 MEM0H1 OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830.
Till it seemed like some wounded and wandering vein
That was lost in the distance below.
There David went over, and wept as he went ;
There his Son in his sorrow passed o'er,
And his garments were dipped in its crimson descent.
Like a warrior's, wading in gore ;
And, wrapped in forebodings of anguish and woe,
It heightened that vision of pain,
When the blood of a mightier Victim should flow,
And the Lamb of the promise be slain.
Now, Kedron, for ages thy course has been dried,
And thy sands are unmarked with a stain,
Since the Victim ordained from eternity died,
And the Lamb of the promise was slain ;
The pilgrim now passes dry-shod o'er thy bed,
And the thought to his spirit may lay,
He who drank of the brook hath relifted his head,
And hath borne our transgressions away !

1830.
Early in 1830, a plan for altering the chancel arrangements
of Christ Church, which had been agitated during the preceding
autumn, began to take a definite shape ; and the proprietors of the
church, at a meeting called for the purpose, appointed the rector
and wardens to take measures for raising, by subscription, the requi
site means, and for carrying the project into effect. The subscrip
tions being filled, the church was closed after the 14th of March;
and such was the delay in completing the new arrangements, that
it was not reopened for divine service until the 6th of June. But
this caused no remission of the duties of the rector. The regular
services were held, through the kindness and courtesy of the ma
sonic fraternity, in their hall, whiSh afforded very suitable accom
modations; and, either there or in some ofthe neighboring churches,
lie continued, three times on every Sunday, to supply the pulpit or
the reading desk. Nor were his pastoral labors in the slightest
degree diminished. The affairs of the parish were becoming daily
more and more prosperous, and the calls for special duties were
constantly increasing. For reasons already given, the baptism, as
well of adults as cliildren, constituted a large portion of these
duties ; and in noting the baptism of the first-born son of his friend
and brother Doane, on the 17th of October, he incidentally remark"

1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. 77
" It makes the ninety-ninth baptism I have administered since I have
been in Christ Church."
There is a peculiar pleasure in inserting here his well-merited
testimony to the worth of a gentleman now universally known in
the Church as an early, ardent, and zealous advocate of the cause
of missions — the Hon. E. A. Newton, of Pittsfield, Mass. On
the 15th of January, he accompanied this gentleman and his brother
Doane to a neighboring parish, for the purpose of organizing an
association auxiliary to the General Missionary Society. After
giving an account of the religious exercises of the evening, he says,
" Mr. Newton made an eloquent address to the congregation explan
atory of the object of the visit, aud requesting an expression of
their approbation of the designs of the society." In writing to his
father, he adds, "Mr. Newton is one of nature's own noblemen, a
Christian, a Churchman, and a gentleman. He was long in India,
and knew Middleton, and Heber, and Corrie, and all the other
famous missionary men in those parts. His spirit there first kindled
up with a zeal for the cause ; and with the highest ardor and decis
ion of character, he unites the firmest and most uncompromising
attachment to the distinctive principles of the Church."
We now come to a scrap of personal history, which it is the
more desirable to preserve, as it may possibly constitute nearly
all the ancestral lore which the Croswell family may find it prac
ticable to collect. In the autumn of 1829, the rector of Christ
Church had discovered, by a singular accident, that there was a
person residing in Boston bearing his own name. This person had
taken one of bis letters from the post office, and had broken the
seal, before he discovered that it was addressed to the Rev. William
Croswell. He immediately sent it by a mutual friend to its proper
address, apologizing for the mistake, and requesting an interview.
After some delay, which is sufficiently explained in the following-
correspondence, this interview finally took place. The following
note, from the elder William Croswell, is written in a remarka
bly formal round hand, rather stiff, but neat* and well defined, and
much resembling the old style of copperplate writing copies : —
Boston, October 23, 1829.
Sir : Some weeks past, N. G. Sneljling, Esq., informed me that you and
he intended to visit me together. I was not then so well as usual. My
health is now better ; and it will be agreeable to my sister and myself to
receive a visit when you think proper. I am, sir, yours,
Mr. Croswell. W. CROSWELL.
"The following," says the rector, in his diary, January 18, "is a
copy of a note addressed to my venerable cognominal, William
Croswell, of Bedford Street : —

78 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. L1830.
Bear Sir : I hope my neglect to acknowledge your kind favor of October
last will not be misconstrued. It was received just as I was on the point of
leaving town, and in my absence it was accidentally mislaid. If it be not
too late, however, to avail myself of the privilege then offered, I shall be
happy to wait upon you on Wednesday morning, in company with our mutual
friend, Mr. Snelling. In my academical days, my attention was arrested
by your work on the mathematics, in such a way as almost to make me for
the moment distrust my own identity ; and I have been exceedingly desirous
of making your acquaintance ever since I knew of your residence in the city.
I am not so familiar with our table of consanguinity as I could desire ; but I
make no doubt, from the coincidence of our names, that the data furnished
by an interview would authorize me to subscribe myself your kinsman, as
well as Your respectful friend and namesake,
WILLIAM CROSWELL. Winthrop Place.
Boston, Tuesday, January 19, 1830.
Sir : As my hearing is somewhat impaired, there was a strange mistake
respecting your billet. It will be agreeable to my sister and myself to
receive a visit to-morrow morning. I am, sir, yours,
Mr. Croswell. W. CROSWELL.
Of this interview the description is exceedingly graphic, and,
without doubt, perfectly accurate to the letter. "Wednesday, Janu
ary 20. At half past ten, waited on Mr. Snelling, who was to
accompany me to my relative in Bedford Street. I was ushered
into an upper room, betraying evident marks of poverty, but with
some beautiful specimens of penmanship garnishing the walls, and
Croswell's View of the Starry Heavens on a large map of Mer-
cator's projection. My old prototype stood before me, nearly as
tall as myself, but much dilapidated, poorly clad, and his shoes
down at the heels. There seems to have been a premature break
ing up of the system, as he is but little turned of sixty years. The
few hairs that are left upon his head are white, but showed no dis
position to crisp ; but all the other characteristics of the species are
decisively developed, and in his sister, who is younger than himself,
are still more distinctly marked. There is the high forehead, the
long nose, the gray eyes, and the longitude of thumb. There is
the low voice, and, above all, in the male kind, the peevish and
irritable temper which we all have to struggle with. The old gen
tleman was in a disordered frame of mind ; but he promised, at
some future time, to give me a detailed account of what he knew
about us. I gathered, however, some interesting particulars before
I left them. The first of our stock, Thomas Croswell, came
from Staffordshire, in England, during the usurpation of the Round
heads. Being detected in some scrape, he fled on board a ship
bound for this country, and settled in Charlestown. He married
Priscilla Upham, a woman of eminent piety, by whom he had one
son, Joseph, and seven daughters. He acquired a handsome estate,
and maintained a fair and reputable character. His son Joseph

1830.] FAMILY REMINISCENCES. 79
married Abigail, daughter of Andrew Stimpson, of Charlestown,
by whom he had five sons, Thomas, Andrew, Caleb, Benjamin,
and Joseph. Andrew was liberally educated, and settled as a
Congregationalist in this city. William and his sister are his chil
dren. They showed me his portrait, rather the worse for wear, but
a very good painting notwithstanding. It was taken when he was
forty years of age, and is said to have been a likeness. According
to this, he was a full-faced man, with a sparkling gray eye, a respec
table nose, and a pleasant expression about the mouth. A printed
account (which I was told, however, was not to be entirely relied
on) states of the other brothers that ' Caleb died while at Cam
bridge University; Thomas and Benjamin were mechanics. Thomas
settled and died in South Carolina. Benjamin settled and died in
Groton, Connecticut.' Our grandfather may have been his son.
Of Joseph, the youngest, born March 12, (O. S.,) 1712, I was
presented with a memorial, with this title : ' Sketches of the life,
and extracts from the journals and other writings, of the late Joseph
Croswell, who, for more than forty years, was an itinerant preacher
in the New England States, and who died at Bridgewater, Massa
chusetts, May, 1799, in the 88th year of his age.' ' He was pre
paring,' says his biographer, ' for an university education, in which
he made laudable progress. But such was his diffidence of him
self, that he declined the public education for which he had become
qualified, and served an apprenticeship to a (horresco referens /)
' — a baker.' The old gentleman says it should be, a barber.
He became a merchant, failed, was thrust into prison, ' but though
unfortunate, did not incur the guilt of dishonesty.' He was con
verted instantaneously, in his thirty-first year, at Groton, Conn., ' on
Friday, the 26th of March, about half an hour after two o'clock,
P. M.' ' Before that time, he had been habitually under alarming
and serious impressions, which were at times exceedingly strong
and distressing. But all was not sufficient to control a naturally
impetuous and irascible temper.' He was one of the most conspicu
ous of the new lights, rode probably three thousand miles a year,
and preached as many sermons per annum. He was a most extrav
agant and fanatical ranter, but his papers show a great deal of talent
and imagination. I meet with this entry in his diary for ' May 3,
1776. As I was journeying from Boston, stopped in Charlestown,
and took a survey of Prospect Hill,' (a delightful eminence between
this and Cambridge, with a windmill on the top of it,) ' formerly
owned by my father, and the place of my nativity. Viewed the
mansion house, which I found turned into a sort of garrison,' &c.
He liad a son and daughter. The son was in the army, and signed,
it is said, the commission under which the first armed vessel acted
against Great Britain, in behalf of the Plymouth people. I will
procure a copy of this book, to be laid up in the archives, and

80 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830.
perhaps it may help to account for preaching three times a day
coming so natural. The old lady showed me a little silver cup of
her grandfather's. She said that the Croswells all had a restless
propensity, were all born with a pen in their hands, that but few
of them had talents for making or keeping money, but that all she
knew or had heard of bore very respectable characters."*
On the first return of the anniversary of his admission to dea
con's orders, he is found thus pouring out, in his private journal,
and at the same time in a letter to his fathei', the feelings of a
heart deeply imbued with a sense of the sacredness of his calling :
" Monday, January 25. This is the anniversary of St. Paul's con
version, and also (' Alas for me, if I forget ! ') the anniversary of
my being set apart for the ministry of the church of God.
The year has been full of incident, and marked with the most
solemn transactions of my whole life. I believe I did not put my
hand to this work without realizing, in some sense, the momentous
relations and awful responsibilities of those who watch for souls as
they that must give account, nor without a clear conviction of the
duty and privilege of assuming these relations and responsibilities.
I would put down nothing on this subject for effect, or in a spirit
of vainglory; but I desire to record my testimony, that this holy
calling, if diligently and faithfully undertaken and devotedly fol
lowed, is the path of life, which, for our own happiness, we should
choose and covet, and contains all the elements of the purest and
highest enjoyment which the corruption and infirmity of our nature
admit. I have always refrained, on principle, from making a dis
play of my private religious feelings on paper, lest I should thereby
be tempted to give way to the movings of spiritual pride and self-
righteousness ; and I dare not trust myself to speak of the satis
faction and delight which he cannot but feel whose duty and whose
glory it is to preach Christ crucified, and who would direct every
thought, wish, and desire to the work of subduing evil and saving
souls. I have been deliberately reviewing the principles laid down
in my first discourse on this subject ; and though, alas ! no man
living can be justified by that standard, I am confirmed by my short
experience in the opinion, that the views which I then took are
those only which are authorized by the Scriptures of truth."
Price Lectures. These lectures were founded on the last will
and testament of Mr. William Price, a respectable book and
print seller in Boston, and a devoted Churchman, who, in the year
1770, bequeathed an estate, in trust, for certain purposes, the prin
cipal of which was the support of a course of sermons to be preached
* William Croswell died on the 7th of July, 1834.

1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. 81
annually in Lent ; for which purpose sixteen pounds sterling were
every year to be appropriated. The subjects of these lectures,
eight in number, the days on which, and the persons by whom
they were to be preached, are minutely specified in the will.*
The preachers, at this time, were the rector and assistant minis
ter of Trinity Church, and the rector of Christ Church ; the place,
Trinity Church. The will directs, with characteristic benevolence,
that after each lecture there shall be made a contribution for the
poor, into which, at each time, five shillings sterling shall be put
by the church wardens ; the whole proceeds to be divided, on
Good Friday, between the ministers and wardens of the parishes
interested in the lectures, for the use qf the poor. The second and
sixth of the series, the present year, were allotted to the rector of
Christ Church. The first of these was on the Miracles of Christ :
John vii. 31. " When Christ cometh, will he do more miracles than
these which this man hath done 1 " He says, in a letter to his
father, " My idea was, to cluster the miracles in such a way as to
present a most striking aspect, and to make the inference from them
to the truth of Christianity, and the divinity of the Savior, most
direct and irresistible." So well did he succeed in this object, that
he was afterwards told that a Unitarian minister, who was present,
made several remarks, which, he adds, " were quite too flattering for
my modesty to transfer to paper." The other lecture was on Con
tentment : 1 Timothy vi. 6. " Godliness with contentment is great
gain." In the month of April, he made a short visit to Connecticut,

* The following is an extract : " And I hereby direct that the said eight
annual Sermons be preached on the following subjects, viz. : 1st, Sermon on
Ash Wednesday, (the service to begin about three o'clock in the afternoon,)
upon the duty, usefulness, and propriety of fasting and abstinence, or upon
Repentance, or Faith, or Hope, or Charity, or Christian Morality. The 2d.
Sermon on the second Wednesday hi Lent, at Eleven o'clock before noon ; the
Sermon to be against Atheism, or Infidelity, or in defence of the Divinity, or
Miracles, of our blessed Saviour. The 3d. Sermon on the third Wednesday in
Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon; the subject, the Catholic Church,
or the Excellency of the Christian Rehgion. The 4th Sermon on the fourth
Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, the Sermon to be a
Vindication of the Church of England, as to Government, Doctrine, or Dis
cipline, or a discourse against Heresy or Schism, Enthusiasm or Hypocrisy, or
on the duty of Obedience to Kings and lawful authority, from all persons
professing Christianity. The Sth Sermon on the fifth Wednesday in Lent, at
Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, against Error and Superstition, particularly
those of the Church of Rome. The sixth Sermon on the sixth Wednesday in
Lent, at Eleven o'clock, in the forenoon, on Detraction or Restitution, or on
Contentment and Resignation, or on preparation for Death. The 7th Sermon
on the seventh Wednesday in Lent, at Eleven o'clock in the forenoon, on
Baptism, or Confession, or Absolution, or on the Duty of Pubhc Worship.
The 8th Sermon on Good Friday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, on the
Passion and Death of Christ, or of the nature, necessity, and advantages of
the Holy Communion." 11

82 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. L1830-
leaving Boston on the 17th, and returning on the 29th. His visits
homeward were always full of enjoyment, as he was ever ready to
testify. But in the present case, it afforded him but little relaxa
tion of his labors. On each of the two Sundays included in the
time, he took the entire service of the church in Stratford. He
also preached on a Wednesday evening in New Haven, and, on the
22d, was present and read morning prayer at the consecration of
St. Paul's Chapel.
On the week preceding the reopening of Christ Church, he ac
companied the bishop, with a few of the clergy, to Leicester, some
fifty miles from Boston, to preach at the institution of the Rev. Lot
Jones, and to participate in the other services of the day. In
speaking of these services, he pays the following well-deserved trib
ute to Mr. Jones : " He is one of the most faithful and devoted sons
of the Church now living. In this little parish, which stands all
alone by itself in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation,
he has made his influence radiate in every direction. It was a day
I shall never forget, as one of the days of the right hand of the
Most High. He has been there a year, and has already baptized
twenty-nine adults, some in the church and some in the living
stream. His communion has grown from nine to sixty. Thirty-
three persons were confirmed." Mr. Jones yet lives to do the
Church good service, having been transferred to a missionary sta
tion in the city of New York, where he has fully sustained the
character here ascribed to him.
On Trinity Sunday, June 6, Christ Church was reopened for
divine service ; and the rector not only bore the whole burden of
the day, but, in the evening, rode to South Boston with the Rev.
Mr. Coit, where he had appointed a missionary lecture, and read
prayers for the third time. On his return, he wrote his weekly
epistle to his father. The day was unpleasant; but the assemblage
was large, and every thing conspired to excite the deepest interest
on the part of the congregation. The following original Hymn,
prepared by the rector for the occasion, was performed by the choir
with fine effect : — Awake, O Ann divine ! Awake,
Eye of the Only Wise !
For Zion and the Temple's sake,
Savior and God, arise !
So shall our hour of gloom be o'er,
And we, a happy throng,
Wake in her hallowed aisles once more
The breath of sacred song.

1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. 83
To thee we'll lift our grateful voice,
To thee our offerings bring,
And with a glowing heart rejoice
To hail thee God and King.
God of our fathers ! still be ours ;
Thy gates wide open set,
And fortify the ancient towers
Where thou with them hast met.
Thy guardian fire, thy guiding cloud,
Still let them gild our wall,
Nor be our foes nor thine allowed
To see us faint and fall.
The worship of the glorious past
Swell on from age to age,
And be, while time itself shall last,
Our children's heritage.
August 15 is recorded in his diary as " a most delightful and
solemn day," the Right Rev. Bishop Griswold having administered
confirmation in Christ Church to thirty-nine persons, and, he adds,
" none of them children."
The month of September is marked by the announcement of
two most afflictive dispensations. On Sunday, the 5th, a report
was received of the death of the Rev. Dr. Gardiner, rector of
Trinity Church, in England, whither he had gone for the benefit
of his health ; and before the grief produced by this event had
scarcely had time to subside, it was followed by another, — the death
of the Right Rev. Bishop Hobart, — still more distressing, inas
much as it was less expected, and the deceased was overtaken in
the midst of the active duties of his office. The following letter
will tell how deeply the visitation affected the heart of the writer : —
" Boston, Monday Morning, September 20, 1830.
" Mt dear Father : The death of Bishop Hobart has made
us all desolate and heart-broken. It has thrown a gloom over our
minds with which I had thought nothing but the sundering of some
dear domestic tie could have overwhelmed me. Though letter after
letter from New York had been gradually extinguishing our hopes,
the fatal announcement burst upon us, after all, like a thunderbolt,
and I sat down and wept like a child. I have renewed my grief
day by day, as the papers of the city disclose some new testimony
of the universal mourning and woe with which this calamity has
filled all sorts and conditions of men. Their columns are occu
pied with the tributes of affection and veneration for his memory,
and show how properly that inestimable loss is appreciated. But

84 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830.
we sorrow not, blessed be God, as those without hope. He died
as he had lived, and as every Christian bishop would desire to die.
The full account of his last moments, from Dr. Rudd, exhibits a
glorious triumph of that religion which carried him faithful to the
very death. He has fought a good fight, he has finished his course,
he has kept the faith ; henceforth there is laid up for him a crown
of life. We may bless God's holy name for one more servant
departed this life in his faith and fear, and beseech him to give us
grace so to follow his good example, that with him we may be par
takers of his heavenly kingdom. Mr. Doane preached a most
eloquent and effective sermon on the occasion, in the morning. I
exchanged with him in the afternoon, and preached on Hebrews
xiii. 14 : ' For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one
to come.' After alluding to tbe death of Dr. Gardiner, I went on
to say, ' While we have not yet recovered from the stunning stroke
of a dispensation which so tremblingly teaches us how frail and
uncertain is the tenure of our citizenship here, a still more recent
calamity calls upon us to renew our lamentations with the whole
united Church of God in this land, over the bereavement of one
of its most faithful guides and distinguished ornaments. Of all the
eminent servants of God whom a season of unusual mortality has
summoned to their reward, the death of the Right Rev. Bishop
Hobart, of New York, in the midst of his indefatigable and abun
dant labors, is calculated to call forth our deepest sympathy, and to
overwhelm us with feelings of the most acute and poignant sorrow.
We can form no estimate of that incalculable loss. The reputation
of his name, the splendor of his talents, the purity of his life, the
sanctity of his office, the eminence of his station, and the conse
crated lustre of his whole public career, have inspired respect and
veneration wherever they were known. But many can tell how
these feelings were lost in the still deeper emotion of affection and
love, as intercourse taught them the charity of his heart, the sweet
ness of his disposition, the amenity and simplicity of his manners,
and the delights of his intimate conversation. In him the genius
of true Christianity might be seen at once reflected ; and he has
left us a model of spiritual exaltation without pride, and of elevated
piety without austerity, which no age can destroy. Alas ! for our
sakes, that even for him there is here no continuing city. He now
lives only in the memory and hearts of his survivors, who have this
day assembled by thousands to muse on his illustrious example, and
to kindle the flames of a vital and energetic piety at the ashes
which are yet scarcely cold. His sun was in its meridian power,
and its warmth most genial, when it was suddenly eclipsed forever.
He fell as the standard bearer of the Cross should ever wish to fall,
by no lingering decay, but in the firmness and vigor of his age, and
in the very act of combat and of triumph. His Master came sud-

1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. S5
denly, and found him faithful in his charge, and waiting for his
appearing. He was that faithful and wise steward whom his Lord
had made ruler over his household, to give them their portion of
meat in due season. And O, blessed, eternally blessed, is that
servant whom his Lord, when he came, found watching. His eye
had not waxed dim, nor had his natural force abated ; and death,
after no long suffering, has removed him from a life of the most
intense labor and anxiety to the repose and blessedness of heaven.
He has put off his earthly mitre for the crown incorruptible. He
has laid aside his sacerdotal robes for the pure, unblemished mar
riage garment. He hears the inexpressive nuptial song. With his
loins girt, and his lamp burning, he has gained an entrance where
the Bridegroom and His friends passed to bliss in the mid hour of
night, happy in having entirely devoted his great powers to the vast
spiritual interests over which he presided ; happy in being the min
ister of salvation to ages yet unborn ; happy in having established
a name before which all the future generations of the land shall
rise up and call it blessed. . . . It is in such awful spectacles
of mortality, that we see how frail and uncertain our own condi
tion is, and read most emphatically the admonition, " Be ye also
ready." ' O, pray, my dear father, that it may not be lost upon us.
Do not make any public use of this extract. I send it merely
because my heart is full of the subject, and I know it is one on
which we can mingle our warmest sympathies together.
" Our centennial celebration was very imposing indeed ; but my
feehngs were out of harmony with it, and I thought of Xerxes, as
he looked at his great army, or of that plaintive call of the herald
at those celebrations in Greece which took place every hundred
years, ' Come to the solemnities which no living eye hath seen, and
which no living eye can see again.' "
It should be borne in mind, that when these sentiments were
penned, it was more than twenty years before the writer's decease,
and when he was in the very freshness and vigor of early manhood.
The labor of life was all before him, and a brief experience was all
that he had to foreshadow his future cares and responsibilities. But
he wrote as he felt ; and when he saw before him the bright example
of the sainted Hobart, it was but natural that he should indulge
some faint and trembling hope that he might be permitted to follow,
though at humble distance, in the luminous footsteps of such a
leader. How far this hope was ever realized, those can best judge
who saw him, at the close of life, called away to his reward in a
manner even more sudden and striking, in the very field of labor,
and clad in all his armor.
In the month of October, while contemplating a visit homeward,

86 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1830.
in addressing his mother, he affects to " transcribe a verse or two
out of a popular poem book." Not being aware of the existence
of such a book, the verses are inserted without attempting to decide
whether they are or are not original.
O, when shall I be restored
To the place that is kept for me
Around the hearth, and around the board,
In my father's family ?
When shall my mother's eye
My coming footsteps greet
With a look of days gone by,
Tender and gravely sweet ?
I know, when the prayer is said,
That for me warm bosoms yearn, .
For me fond tears are shed !
O, when shall I return ?

On Monday, the 27th of December, he writes as follows : " I
have had as happy a Christmas as is consistent with the perform
ance of five successive services, and the effects of the clouds and
darkness which are round about it. On the whole, I do not know
that I ever felt more comfortably on a Monday morning than at this
present writing ; and the successful discharge of the arduous but
delightful duties of the week have relieved my mind of a great
weight, and put me in quite a delectable frame."
After giving some account of his several sermons, on Christmas
Eve and the two succeeding days, he speaks of having prepared two
Hymns for the occasion, which were sung to appropriate music in
his own and two other churches in Boston. Of these Hymns, the
following, from the Episcopal Watchman of January 1, is the first,
and the other will be found on page 65, of this work.

1.
Glad tidings waft once more,
Angels, who hymned of yore
Messiah's birth ;
Sing, voices of the sky,
As in those times gone by,
Glory to God on high,
Peace on the earth !

1830.] CHRIST CHURCH. 87

O bright and burning star,
Be not from us afar,
Distant nor dim ;
Lead our frail feet aright,
Silent, but shining light,
As on that hallowed night,
Guide us to Him.

Give thou thy people grace,
Savior ! who seek thy face
This favored day.
Incense and odors sweet
May not thy coming greet,
But hearts are at thy feet ;
Turn not away.
4.
For in thy blessed shrine
Each garland we intwine
Incense shall breathe.
As each before thee lies,
Emblem of souls that rise
Heavenwards, where never dies
Thy fadeless wreath.

The following lines are found among his manuscripts, under date
of 1830, but have probably never been published. They refer to
the weathercock on the spire of the place of worship at the North
End, Boston, then occupied by a Unitarian society.

OLD NORTH COCK.
Roosted upon his ancient ball,
Last night, sat the Old North cock,
In the midst of a terrible north-east squall
Which made the steeples rock,
And waked the watchmen, one and all,
As the bell tolled twelve o'clock.
With head erect and unruffled form,
The hearty and tough old cock,
Through wind and rain, and cold and warm,

88 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
All weathers continues to mock ;
And he whisked him round to face the storm,
And breasted himself to the shock.
O image of triple guilt,* quoth I,
I should very much like to know
If you have a bit of reason why,
While all these changelings here below,
Like Peter of old, their Lord deny,
You never was known to crow.
Whist ! whist ! quoth chanticleer, you're slow ;
How could I crow so fast, sir,
As these my fickle friends below,
And each misguiding pastor,
And the Priestly f men who teach them so,
Deny their Lord and Master ?

1831.
The record of this year is not remarkably full. In his diary
there is a large hiatus, extending from the middle of January to the
beginning of October ; and during the remainder of the time, the
entries are little else than brief sketches of his daily duties and
services. But the deficiency is in some measure supplied by his
correspondence ; and although, for reasons already stated, it would
be improper to draw largely upon this correspondence, it may,
nevertheless, furnish many facts, incidents, and reflections, as aids
in conducting the narrative.
January 2, he writes, that, after having performed his customary
round of three full services, he finds himself able to sit down and
prepare a Hymn for the Howard Benevolent Society. Of this
Hymn the following copy is taken from a manuscript collection : —
Lord, lead the way the Savior went,
By lane and cell obscure,
And let love's treasure still be spent,
Like His, upon the poor ;
Like Him, through scenes of deep distress
Who bore the world's sad weight,
We, in their crowded loneliness,
Would seek the desolate.
* Gilt.
t An obvious pun on the name of the great apostle of Unitarianism.

1831.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 89
For Thou hast placed us side by side,
In this wide world of ill ;
And, that thy followers may be tried,
The poor are with us still.
Mean are all offerings we can make ;
Yet Thou hast taught us, Lord,
If given for the Savior's sake,
They lose not their reward.
Among the occurrences of the year, the commencement of a
new Church periodical in Boston may be here noted. The plan of
a monthly magazine having been previously relinquished, a number
of clergymen and laymen of the diocese conferred together, from
time to time, on the expediency of establishing a weekly paper, to
be afforded at a low price, for the purpose of securing an extensive
circulation, and thus promoting the interests of the Church. After
some ineffectual attempts to secure the services of an editor, the
two friends consented, though evidently with much reluctance, to
undertake the work themselves. Under this arrangement, the first
number was issued, by Messrs. Stimpson and Clapp, on the 3d of
September. It was a neat little " folio of four pages," entitled The
Banner of the Church. The contents, in prose and verse, were
chiefly original, and were generally contributed by one or the other
of the two friends. Some of the poetical productions of the junior
editor had been previously published ; but others appeared for the
first time in the Banner. From both of these sources a few speci
mens may be gathered. Of those transferred from other publica
tions, the following may be deemed peculiarly worthy of preser
vation, though the writer speaks of it to his father in the language
of apology. It was called forth by the death of Colonel Putnam,
a most highly esteemed and venerable member of the Church in
Brooklyn, Conn., and was transmitted to the daughter of the de
ceased, the late Mrs. Sumner, of Hartford, with the following
apologetic note : " The melancholy subject on which I wrote you
last has pressed much upon my mind since ; so much so, that it has
been one cause, perhaps, of unfitting me for doing better justice
to your honored father's memory. I have waited for leisure to do
better ; but this has been denied me, and, as I now foresee, must
be denied me for a long time to come. After so much unseasona
ble delay, 1 submit this hasty effusion (for such it truly is) to your
disposal with fear and trembling. But however I may have failed,
I know you will appreciate my motives."
12

90 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED SERVANT OF GOD.
" Fortunate Senex."
I was in spirit with the crowd
Who stood around thy bier,
When grief, though deep, was yet not loud,
As each in turn drew near,
And, mutely bending, o'er and o'er
Fond kindred lips were pressed
Upon thy placid brow, before
They laid thee to thy rest.
No stain upon thy clear renown,
Descended from the brave,
Brought thy gray hairs with sorrow down,
Tried veteran ! to the grave ;
We saw thee hastening, calm and sage,
On to thy perfect day,
And, in thy green and good old age,
Serenely fade away.
Peace to thy patriarchal dust !
From yon old solemn shrine
Breaks forth a tone of loftiest trust
That better things are thine ;
Thy light shone ever there to bless,
And on thy hoary head,
Found in the way of righteousness,
A crown of glory shed.
Nursed in her aisles, and truly taught
By her to live and die,
Our grief finds refuge in the thought
That there thou still art nigh ;
It treasures there a precious store
For sweet and soothing calm,
To read thy favorite prayers, and pour
The same victorious psalm.
Thus shall thy memory be a spell
Of strong but silent power,
Within the church thou lov'dst so well,
And round thy household bower ;
Yea, every spot is sanctified,
Amid this vale of tears,
Where thou, for heaven, hast laid aside
The burden of thy years.

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 91
The following is one of his earlier productions, and was first
published in the Watchman, in 1827, and copied into several papers.
It was now republished in the Banner, under the author's own
revision. CLOUDS.
" Cloud land I gorgeous land I " Coleridoe.
I cannot look above, and see
Yon high-piled, pillowy mass
Of evening clouds, so swimmingly
In gold and purple pass,
And think not, Lord, how Thou wast seen
On Israel's desert way,
Before them, in thy shadowy screen,
Pavilioned all the day ; —
Or of those robes of gorgeous hue
Which the Redeemer wore,
When, ravished from his followers' view,
Aloft his flight he bore ;
When, lifted as on mighty wing,
He curtained his ascent,
And, wrapped in clouds, went triumphing
Above the firmament.
Is it a trail of that same pall
Of many-colored dyes
That high above, o'ermantling all,
Hangs midway down the skies ?
Or borders of those sweeping folds
Which shall be all unfurled
About the Savior, when he holds
His judgment on the world ?
For in like manner as he went —
My soul, hast thou forgot ? —
Shall be his terrible descent,
When man expecteth not.
Strength, Son of man ! against that hour,
Be to our spirits given,
When Thou shalt come again, with power,
Upon the clouds of heaven.

92 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
The following has probably never appeared, except in the
Banner. A NIGHT THOUGHT.*
Pet lilies of your kind,
Effeminate and pale,
That shiver in the autumn wind,
Like reeds before the gale,
Ye have not toiled or spun,
As sister lilies might,
Nor are ye wise as Solomon,
Though sumptuous to the sight.
O fair, and well arrayed !
And are ye they to whom
The world is under tribute laid
For finery and perfume ?
And have ye no delight,
Nought else that may avail,
To weather that eternal night,
When these expedients fail?

This also was among his first contributions to the Banner : —
CHARITY HYMN.
"Freely ye have received, freely give."
Thou who on earth didst sympathize
With mortal care and fear,
And all the frail and fleshly ties
That man to man endear,
The sorrower's prayer, the sufferer's sighs
Still reach Thy gracious ear.
Though, pierced by many a pang below,
The heart may sorely ache,
Touched with a feeling of our woe,
A bond no time can break,
Thou wilt not leave us, Lord ! we know
Thou never wilt forsake.
• See Young, Night Second, lines 232-253.

I
1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 93
Freely Thou givest, and thy word
Is freely to impart ;
And oft as from that law we've erred
With unfratemal heart,
The deeper let us now be stirred
To be, even as Thou art.

With the opening of the Banner, the editors commenced a series
of papers, under the title of The Christian Year, (suggested by
Keble's work,) which was kept up, with very little interruption, to
the end of the volume. The pieces which constituted this series
were partly in prose and partly in verse, some selected and some
original, while others were contractions or variations of some of
the longer pieces of Keble. They were all designed to explain
and illustrate the services of the Sundays and holy days of the
Church throughout the year. The few poetical productions here
selected are found among the manuscript collections of the junior
editor.

SAINT ANDREW'S DAY.
O Savior, for whose blessed sake
Saint Andrew left his all,
Beside the Galilean lake,
As soon as Thou didst call;
Grant us, thy servants, later born,
That grace which led thee first
To bear the cross of shame and scorn,
And to endure the worst
While skiff, and net, and hempen coil,
The tackle and the oar,
Remind us of their patient toil,
The fisher's part who bore,
O, teach us what our work must be,
Their fellowship to win,
Who follow them and follow thee,
In holy discipline.
And let no follower come alone,
But each his kindred bring,
As Andrew did, to see and own

94 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
To count, like him, all gain but loss,
To tread temptation down,
And, through the triumph of the cross,
Secure a glorious crown.

HYMN FOR SAINT MATTHEW'S DAY.

"And as Jesus passed forth, he saw a man named Matthew sitting at the
receipt of custom, and he saith unto him, Follow me ; and he arose and
followed liim." Qospel for tlie Day.

By Babel's piles, how heavenly fair
To see God's light dispel,
With beams divine, the stifled air
Of Mammon's gloomiest cell !
It cheers the soul that even there
Our holy faith may dwell,
And thrive amid the dreary glare
Of this world's citadel.
There still the Savior makes his call,
Drowned though the accents be ;
O " Lord, make Matthews of us all,"
To rise and follow thee ;
To leave whate'er we prize as gold ;
Our treasure and our heart
Transfer, where we may safe behold
Earth and her idols part
Thus, as our feet through labyrinths glide,
O, let thy voice sublime
Be heard above the stunning tide
Of human care and crime ;
And as our busy task is plied
By dusky lane and mart,
Its unction ever there abide
Like music in the heart.

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 95

LAST SUNDAY IN ADYENT.
" Rejoice in the Lord alway ; and again I say, Rejoice. The Lord is at
hand." Epistle for the Day.
Now gird your patient loins again,
Your wasting torches trim ;
The Chief of all the sons of men —
Who will not welcome him ?
Rejoice ! the hour is near ; at length
The Journeyer on his way
Comes in the greatness of his strength
To keep his holy day.
With cheerful hymns and garlands sweet,
Along his wintry road,
Conduct him to his green retreat,
His sheltered, safe abode ;
Fill all his courts with sacred songs,
And from the temple wall
Wave verdure o'er the joyful throngs
That crowd his festival.
And still more greenly in the mind
Store up the hopes sublime
Which then were born for all mankind,
" So blessed was the time ; "
And underneath these hallowed eaves
A " Savior will be born"
In every heart that him receives
On his triumphal morn.

THE EPIPHANY.

" And when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him
gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh." Gospel for tlie Day.

We come not with a costly store,
O Lord ! like them of old,
The masters of the starry lore,
From Ophir's shores of gold ;
No weepings of the incense tree
Are with the gifts we bring,
Nor odorous myrrh of Araby
Blends with our offering.

96 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
But still our love would bring its best:
A spirit keenly tried
By fierce affliction's fiery test,
And seven times purified ;
The fragrant graces of the mind,
The virtues that delight
To give their perfume out, will find
Acceptance in thy sight.

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY.

" This beginning of miracles did Jesus in Cana of Galilee, and manifested
forth his glory, and his disciples believed on him." Qospel for the Day.

O humblest and happiest bridal of earth!
O Cana of Galilee, blest
With the sanction of Christ for thine innocent mirth,
Thou first saw his glory confessed !
A glory enlivening the festival board,
Increasing its generous store,
And cheering the hearts that in wonder adored,
Till the cup of their gladness ran o'er.
And who will unbless what the Savior has blest ?
What being of arrogant mould
Will dare at the bridal where He is a guest,
The cup of his favor withhold ?
And why are thy bounties, O Master! disdained,
When thy smile so indulgent will be,
If with conscience unwounded, and spirit unstained,
They remind us of Cana and Thee ?

QUINQUAGESIMA SUNDAY.
Poor, and desolate, and blind,
Like the wayside wanderer, we,
Savior ! by thy grace inclined,
Fain would guide our steps to thee.
'Mid the tumult of mankind,
Still in love thou passest by ;
Still let those who seek thee find ;
Hear our never-ceasing cry.

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 97
Darkly through our glass we see ;
Shadows wrap our loveliest day ;
Lovelier will the vision be
When the scales shall fall away.
Savior, though a tenfold night
O'er the outward sense should roll,
Brighter let thy cloudless light
Shine forever in the soul.

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT.
Thou who, for forty days and nights, o'ermastered all the might
Of Satan, and the fiercest pangs of famished appetite, —
O Savior ! leave us not alone to wrestle with our sin,
But aid us in these holy hours of solemn discipline.
Let not the tempter tempt us, Lord, beyond our strength to bear,
Though, in the desert of our woe, he wildly shrieks, " Despair ! "
Let not our humble confidence be in thy promise stirred,
Nor clouds of dark distrust spring up between us and thy word.
Nor let us yet be lifted up by him, the prince of air,
To scale presumption's dizzy height, and left to perish there ;
Nor on the temple's pinnacle, in our self-righteous pride,
Be set for thee to frown upon, and demons to deride.
And O, when pleasure, power, and pomp around our vision swim,
And, through the soft, enchanting mist, he bids us worship him,
Assist us from the revelling sense the sorcerer's spell to break,
And tread the arch apostate down, Redeemer ! for thy sake.
From his correspondence of this year, some allusions may be gath
ered with regard to an incident, the memory of which is recalled with
peculiar interest and unmingled satisfaction, as furnishing pleasing
evidence of his disinterested kindness, and his natural disposition
to encourage the opening indications of genius and merit. He
received letters of introduction, by the hand of George Whiting
Flagg, a young artist of New Haven, who was on a visit to his
uncle, the late Washington Allston, the celebrated historical
painter, then residing and pursuing his profession at Cambridge.
Flagg was at this time scarcely fifteen years of age, but he had
already made commendable progress in portrait painting. From
his very childhood, indeed, his passion for the art was entirely
uncontrollable, and absorbed all his energies. Sketching and
drawing took precedence of every other pursuit ; and long before
13

98 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
he became a proficient in penmanship or any other branch of
schoolboy learning, he was wont to portray the imagery of Iris
thoughts on canvas. His first interview, and its results, are thus
announced, under date of August 14: "He won my heart at first
sight ; and, operated upon by his irresistible grace, I went straight
way down to his rooms to sit for my portrait. It is the first call
that he has had for this purpose ; and as he wishes to have his rep
utation rest upon it, he is taking great pains with it, and I think
will make an excellent likeness. He has two little fancy pieces at
the Atheneeura exhibition, which opens to-morrow. I have intro
duced him to several of my friends, who are professed patrons of
the fine arts, and who will give him all encouragement. His pas
sion for his pencil is marvellous ; and I know not whether most to
admire the maturity of his conceptions or the rapidity of his execu
tion. I think he is quite an offset to my little musical prodigy. I
have brought them together. Flagg was delighted with her per
formance ; and we have made arrangements for her to sit for a
little cabinet piece, which he will execute in his best style."
On the -2lst of August he again writes : " Flagg confines me
pretty closely with his portrait, but has now nearly completed it.
It is exceedingly well done, and is said to be a likeness. As he
has hardly received any notice from other quarters, I have been a
good deal occupied in carrying him about the suburbs. His child
like simplicity and genuine devotion to his art make him a delight
ful companion, and I hope he will continue as unsophisticated from
his acquaintance with the world. He enjoyed our visits to Pine
Bank and Naliant rarely, and kept me clambering up and down the
ledges, at the latter place, all the while we were there, though one
of the warmest days of the season. He has in hand a small cabi
net piece, for whicli my 'little correspondent' was the sitter, and
which he considers as tbe best thing he has done. This is for me,
and will be a beautiful picture."
Again, on the 2*tli, he writes : " Little Flagg has finished my
picture, which is a better performance than any, he thinks, that he
has ever before executed. 1 have been the means of filling .his
hands with business, and he is very grateful for the attention which
he has received from mt-. ... In the mean time, he improves
very rapidly, and, when known, will be much noticed and caressed.
He is indeed a delightful boy."
Thus was it his pleasure to introduce this young and devoted
artist, who was yet in his mere boyhood, to friends, to favor, and to
patronage ; and he had the gratification of knowing, in after years,
that his confidence had not been misojaeed ; that the talents and
genius of his youthful friend had not been overrated ; and that his
highest anticipations had all been realized. G. W. Flagg was soon
distinguished in his art, while confined chiefly to portraits; and

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 99
having afterwards turned his attention more particularly to histori
cal painting, he has produced a variety of pieces which place hiin
in a high position in this branch of his ait, and will secure him an
enviable reputation among the men of genius of the present age.
It may be well to introduce in this place a brief notice of the
child whose picture Flagg was engaged in painting, and of whom
her pastor speaks in the preceding extracts as his " little musical
prodigy," and as his " little correspondent." This child, from a
very early age, had manifested an extraordinary devotion of spirit,
a remarkable tenderness of conscience, and an ardent love of
religion and of the services of the Church. Her taste for music
had been much cultivated at the age of eight or nine years, and
she had acquired an ease and readiness in epistolary composition
seldom or never witnessed in so young a person. Her indications
of early piety had induced an over-fond relative to suggest, and
rather urge, the propriety of her admission at once to confirmation
and the holy communion. From this course, however, she was
easily dissuaded by her faithful friend and pastor. But though she
delayed to a more appropriate season the outward and public pro
fession of her faith, she never neglected for a moment the regular
and systematic exercise of her religious duties. The following
letter, addressed to this child, and copied by permission, will serve
to show as well her pastor's high appreciation of her character, as
his remarkable faculty of adapting his instructions to every class
and age, from the tender lambs to the mature members of his flock.
It is a gratification to add, that the child of this period is now, and
has been for several years, a most worthy, intelligent, and exem
plary member of the holy communion of the Church.
"Boston, May 4, 1831.
" My dear little Friend : You may be sure that I shall love
the notes you write, as well as the notes you sing ; and I do not
know how I could love them better. You may be sure, too, that
if you try to be good, God will assist you to be so. The arms of
the same kind and gracious Savior who once took up the little
cliildren, put His hands upon them and blessed them, will ever be
open to receive all of the same tender age. O, love that blessed
Being as you have ever loved your dearest friends ; for He has
loved you even more than they, and has given Himself for you, that
where He now is, there you may hereafter be also. Pray to Him,
that you may ever continue His own dutiful child, pure, peaceable,
gentle, and easy to be entreated. So will your heavenly songs ever
delight His ear. So will you sing in His temple above, with the
little ones who sung of old in His temple below, ' Hosanna to the
Son of David ! '

100 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
" I have many things to say to you, my dear child, which I can
not write even with a ' silver pen.' ' It may be better told,' as one
of the holiest of men says, ' when I come unto you ; for the daugh
ter of the voice is better than the son of ink, and it is a good time
when a man speaketh face to face with his friend.'
" God bless you and your little sister, and all whom you most
love. Your affectionate friend,
"WILLIAM CROSWELL.
" Miss  ."
To the same child he addressed the following stanzas on her
eighth birthday, September 5, 18 — : —
Steeped in the soft September light,
What mellowing hues array
The forward view ! — so pure and bright
Be all thy life's long day ;
A dewy lustre thus be shed,
A sweet and soothing calm
Swim in thine eye, and o'er thy head
Fall on thy soul like balm.
May Heaven preserve each dainty tress
From all that would destroy,
As, in thy playful restlessness,
They seem to share thy joy ;
Good angels shelter from all ills
The fast-maturing grace,
That with a saddening sweetness fills
Thy penseroso face.
Oft as I turn from year to year,
And days of absence roll,
I'll bind thy vision, made more dear
By memory, to my soul ;
I'll pray that he by whom 'twas won
Will keep thy minstrel boon,
A singing heart, in unison
With every darling tune.
The following letter, in answer to an invitation to officiate at the
anniversary of the Ladies' Bible Societies, in Boston, expresses, in
brief but plain and decided terms, the sentiments generally held
by the Church on the subject of associations constituted in confor
mity with the policy of the American Bible Society.

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 101
" Dear Madam : While I readily acknowledge the honor intend
ed me by the ladies of the Female Bible Society, I throw myself
upon their most candid construction, in declining to attend their
anniversary on the 6th proximo.
"With regard to the duty and privilege of aiding in the circulation
of that 'glorious gospel of the blessed God' with which his Church
has ever been inseparably connected, I am happy to believe there
is no difference of opinion among Protestants. But in this, as in
all our attempts to do good, regard must be had to the means, as
well as to the end ; and it was an early lesson of my childhood,
which has strengthened into conviction with my strength, and been
fortified by the opinion of a long line of saintly men, from the
Reformation to the present day, that the indiscriminate and promis
cuous union, for religious purposes, of the maintainers of every
opposite sentiment, only serves to encourage and perpetuate error.
Painful, therefore, as the duty is, I feel that I could not, in any case,
be justified in shrinking to bear my testimony, insignificant as it
may be, against the practice.
" Trusting that my motives will be considered in their true light,
I beg you to believe that I am, with every sentiment of respect and
esteem for the intentions of the society, your friend and servant in
the faith, WILLIAM CROSWELL."
A few further extracts from his diary and letters will close the
record of the present year. These are the terms in which he
recommences his diary on tlie 4th of October. The passage is
inserted to show with what untiring energy and perseverance he
devoted every moment of his time to duties, either voluntarily
assumed or devolving upon him iu the regular pursuit of his calling.
" After so long an interval, I again resume my journal, with the
determination, in dependence on divine grace, not to intermit a day
again, so long as God shall please to spare me ability. The press
of duty upon me never was, and probably never will be, greater
than at this moment. The care of a laborious and difficult parish,
expecting religious services thrice on the Lord's day, with much
attention in the course of the week; the superintendence of a
weekly periodical, small indeed, but on that account the more
select ; the secretaryship of several societies, requiring an unusual
amount of correspondence ; together with all my own private let
ters, and the numberless and nameless vexations attendant upon all,
leave me but little of that leisure which my nature and tempera
ment make so luxurious. But there is a rest remaining for the
people of God. May it be mine at last."
It is sufficient to say of this journal, for the remainder of the
year, that what is here compressed into a brief compass is but
a foreshadowing of the minute details which make up the daily

102 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
record. Amid his severe and manifold labors, however, he seldom
complains of fatigue or ill health. The following entry is the only
exception. On Sunday, the 20th of November, he preached twice,
taking the whole service, and, in the evening, read the prayers for
the third time. Speaking of the morning, he says, "Somewhat
nervous from exhaustion; was obliged to stop for some minutes, in
the second lesson, till I could recover myself." He closes the rec
ord of the day : " Retired early, much fatigued."
Of the great variety of topics embraced in his letters, no partic
ular classification will be observed ; but the selections will follow
generally in the order of tlieir dates. Hence, a grave reflection, a
solemn thought, a touching allusion, a graphic description, a vein
of pleasantry, may be brought into close proximity, as called forth
by passing incidents, which cannot, for obvious reasons, be given
in detail. Here is a caustic sally, drawn out by a correspondent,
who had spoken of some hostility, in a certain quarter, to Christ
mas decorations : " January 2. Your last shows a breaking out
of the old puritanical spirit in a new place. This loathing of
Christmas greenery is worthy of that ' gang of canting rogues ' who
broke down the carved work of the sanctuary, and who, forgetting
that we had bodies as well as spirits, seemed to aim to make reli
gion as uncomfortable and nauseating as possible, and to deprive it
of every thing which is calculated to enlist the senses, the taste, and
the imagination on its side. . . . But it is a genial time, and
should be prolific of every thing that tends to elevated and refresh
ing associations."
Here is a piece of pleasantry, addressed to his mother, February
13, on the subject of an eclipse of the sun : " It being a pleasant
day yesterday, it was distinctly understood that the eclipse was not
to be postponed. Accordingly, smoked glass was the circulating
medium all the morning, and the glaziers sold more broken panes
than they ever mended. Even Master Burke, who is supposed to
be the most wonderful creature now living, seemed to excite less
attention. We were disappointed in the spectacle. After so long
a note of preparation, aud attempt at effect, it was quite a failure.
We wanted it to be darker. I had intended to ' improve ' the phe
nomenon, in a sermon, to-day, but concluded my congregation would
think me at a great loss for edifying subjects, if I made so much of
this disastrous twilight."
From his own account of his parochial labors, it will be sufficient
to make an occasional extract. The following, addressed to his
father, Sunday evening, March 6, may be taken as a specimen : " I
am quite tired, though a perfectly well man. The day has been
dismal, the duty arduous. I visited two Sunday schools this morn
ing, prayed, preached, and administered the communion. During
the intermission, I visited and administered the communion to the

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 103
sick ; and again prayed and preached this afternoon and evening.
All this comes after a very toilsome week. I have seen more dead
and dying within a short time, in our parish, than during all the rest
of my ministry. There are, at this moment, several cases of severe
sickness, arising not so much from the prevalence of any single
disease, as from this critical season of the year, which brings so
many lingering cases to a fatal conclusion. We find, of course,
that as is the life, so generally is the death. It is delightful to visit
the sick beds of those who have passed an exemplary Christian
course, and have, while in health, made their peace with God —
whose loins are girt, and whose lamps are burning. I have been
called to communicate their situation to several who have been far
gone in consumption ; and I have had much evidence of the diffi
culty of making persons with that complaint realize their bodily
condition, much more their spiritual."
The same letter contains a brief, but just, tribute to one of the
most distinguished of our departed bishops : " Mightily have I been
confirmed -and refreshed over the volumes of Ravenscroft. That
saintly man was truly a burning and a shining light ; and would have
been, in the most glorious eras of the Church."
In a letter, dated on Easter Monday, he mentions the fact, that,
including the Sundays, he had, in the course of the week preceding,
preached seven times, and read twelve entire services, besides dis
charging considerable other parochial duty; and yet, he says, "I
thank God, I have got safely through with it."
Agreeably to the practice of the governors of Massachusetts,
who have commonly appointed the annual fast during the festive
season of the Church, and on a day never recognized as a fasting
day, the appointment, the present year, was on the Thursday after
Easter. The following extract from a letter of Sunday evening
after Easter, will show how it was observed by the rector and
congregation of Christ Church : "The neighboring clock has just
struck eleven ; and the ancient and quiet watchman, who patroles
this well-ordered part of the town, has signified that ' all's well.'
Deep sleep hath fallen upon all, apparently, round about ; but I feel
so fresh and wakeful, that I have no inclination to follow their
example ; and I have little doubt that I should rest the better when
I have one the less duty to discharge. By keeping out of my study
as much as possible, I have completely recruited myself since my
last ; though I have not been able to get through the week without
preaching, on Tuesday evening at South Boston, and again on the
day of the annual fast. But though I submitted to this last ordi
nance of man for the Lord's sake, I studiously avoided the recog
nition of it as a day of humiliation. I gave all the services the
character which belongs to the festal season ; for I could not con
sent to put our little flock out of harmony with the holy Church

104 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
throughout the world, to accommodate the narrow-minded preju
dices of the founders of the Bay State."
His next letter gives the details of a frightful stage accident,
which occurred on his passage from Lowell to Boston. The stage,
after a long run, was upset in Charlestown, and nearly demolished ;
but though there were nine inside passengers, including four ladies,
and two small cliildren, and four outside, none of them were
seriously injured. "An hour afterwards," he says, "I could not,
and do not now, realize as I ought the immediate peril to which I
have been exposed, and the marvellous deliverance which has been
wrought out for me."
On the 25th he writes, "You will see by the papers the cir
cumstances of brother Doane's institution, [as Rector of Trinity
Church.] It was a most solemn transaction, and affected me deeply.
I had not entirely recovered from the agitation of my escape ; and
I have not been so overcome by my feelings at any solemnity of
the kind since my own ordination."
On the 6th of June, speaking of the approaching session of the
diocesan Convention, he says, " I shall have an encouraging paro
chial report to present. The baptisms alone exceed seventy, ten or
twelve of whom are adults." In the same letter, he describes a
certain irregular proceeding in a neighboring church ; a portion of
which is selected, not so much for the purpose of casting reproaches
upon others, as of showing his own extreme, but laudable sensi
tiveness, on the subject of the order and discipline of the Church :
" We have had a beautiful performance at  , which may, per
haps, surprise you ; but here we are surprised at nothing from that
quarter. I allude to the manner in which  thought proper to
advance the cause of prison discipline, by breaking through all those
rules which regulate discipline ecclesiastical. Just conceive, for a
moment, of  's successor stepping into the desk, in a thin
undress, reading a chapter, setting aside ' common prayer ' as a
sealed book and a dead letter, and breaking out extemporaneously
into those 'uncommon,' and until lately 'unknown strains,' with
vvhich the Congregational houses resound. I should have expected
to have seen something white on such an occasion, if it were but the
spirits of confessors and martyrs reproachfully flitting through the
gloom, or to have heard the very beams crying out from the wall."
The following extract is illustrative of some of the most inter
esting traits in his character. It is found in a letter addressed to
his brother, to whom he had presented a book for his religious
edification : " No man can read it, with a desire to be instructed,
and not feel his principles of piety invigorated and confirmed, and
his mind refreshed. I hope you will study it with attention and
singleness of heart, not so much for my sake as for the object with
which it was written, the attainment of a religious character. It will

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 105
teach you how to lead a holy and happy life here, and, by adorning
the doctrine of God your Savior in all things, to grow in meetness
for a state of acceptance and perfect bliss hereafter. It is now the
critical and turning period of your life. It is the time of your
greatest blessings and your greatest dangers. The evil days have
not yet drawn nigh, and sinful habits have not become inveterate.
Young men exhort to be sober minded. You are so, I believe, in
the main, and, I trust, not far from the kingdom of God. Seek it
first, seek it early, and you shall find it. There is nothing, of
course, about which I can feel so much solicitude, as that ours may
be a household fearing God, and partakers of the like precious faith
together ; that we may be bound more and more in love, now our
little company is so much broken down ; that considering how we
are united to the future world by a portion of ourselves already
gone thither, we may live as heirs of the same glorious inheritance,
and continue throughout eternity with those to whom we have been
so tenderly related, a family in heaven, not one of us being lost,
in that day when our Lord maketh up his jewels. . . . Our
religion was not intended to make us dismal or wretched, but to
make us cheerful within the limits of becoming mirth. Its happy
title is, the promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to
come." It might be deemed hardly justifiable to draw such a letter as
the following, addressed to his cousin Elizabeth Sherman, from
the privacy of domestic custody, were it not accompanied by a
subsequent letter, in which he explains, and apologizes for, the
sportive and playful style which many might suppose inconsistent
with the gravity and dignity of his profession : —
"Boston, June 27, 1831.
" My dear Cousin : Though time is scarce, I cannot spare you
any longer. I dare say, you take it very unkind that I have neg
lected to answer your last letter so long. I know you consider
yourself but as an indifferent scribe, and, because I have taken to
writing for good and all, think I might write to you a great deal
oftener. Another thing which I dare say you think is, that I ought
to be thinking of coming back, as it does not look well for young
people to be away too long from their own relations, who must, in
the nature of things, care most about them. I dare say, you are
not the only one in the house that keeps a-thinking so. I think
myself that it is possible you are more than half right, and will not
gainsay it. " Trust me, cousin Bess,
Full many a day my memory has played
The creditor with me on your account,
And made me shame to think that I should owe
14

106 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
So long the debt of kindness. But in truth,
Like Christian on his pilgrimage, I bear
So heavy a pack of business, that albeit
I toil on mainly in one twelve hours' race,
Time leaves me distanced. Loath indeed were I
That for a moment you should lay to me
Unkind neglect. Mine, cousin, is a heart
That smokes not. Yet methinks there should be some
Who know how warm it beats. I'm no sworn friend
Of half an hour, as apt to leave as love.
Mine are no mushroom feelings, that spring up
At once, without a seed, and take no root,
Wiseliest distrusted. In a narrow sphere,
The little circle of domestic life,
I would be known and loved. The world beyond
Is not for me. And, Bessy, sure I think
That you should know me well, for you and I
Grew up together ; and when we look back
Upon old times, our recollections paint
The same familiar faces . . . and so on . . .

" I dare say you are all delighted with whatever I have told you
delights me. I dare say you think it is all very fine and very grand,
and so forth ; but still, if I don't write to you very often, and I don't
come home very often, I dare say you will still begin to have a little
half-wondering kind of doubt on the subject of my remembering.
To tell the truth honestly, I should be, if I were you, a little, if it
were but a little, jealous, lest these fine things and fine people should
put you all out of my head, even when you are too just to suspect
any thing of the kind. Lack-a-daisy ! if you knew how often I have
a sort of sailor-boy's dream in the broad daylight, and think what
a store of delight awaits me when I can get home again, and tell
you the histories, omitted in my letters, ' of all I have seen.' To
think of the bustle in anticipation ! mother, travelling from the attic
downwards, smoothing down bed quilts, setting chairs at the precise
angle of precision, putting the contents of drawers in order, wiping
for the twentieth time every scrap of furniture, dusting things per
fectly free from dust, and stepping into the kitchen to give Hetty
directions ab^ut puddings and pies, watching the rumbling of every
vehicle, and, when the genuine one does come, what a meeting,
what a greeting, what peals of salutation from every direction !
. . . I dare not read over what I have written, lest I should
decide to burn, instead of mailing it."
But turn now to his apology. Writing again to his cousin within
a few months, he says, " I should be sorry to have you, or any that

1831.] CHRIST CHURCH. 107
I hold dear at horne, form any estimate from my letters of the
anxiety and interest whicli I feel upon subjects to which I appear
sometimes inconsiderately to allude. You know that my duties
here are severe, and that I cannot but be constantly and closely
brought in contact with scenes of distress and affliction. When I
sit down, after the fatigue of parochial cares, I am fain to seek
relaxation and relief by diverting my attention with correspondence
and society ; and if, in conversing with my absent friends, I appear
to indulge in levity and trifling, inconsistent with my solemn rela
tions and responsibilities, it is because I know that I am dealing
with those in whose minds no misconstruction can arise. I write
of course, therefore, only for the ears of the family ; and I feel that
it would always have been well, if my letters had been destroyed
as soon as they had been perused."
The following passage, selected from a letter of the 9th of Octo
ber, is a pleasing specimen of his easy and graceful manner of
recording the daily transactions of his life : " The last week has
been busy as usual. If I had been able to have been at nine places
at once, I suppose I should have been wanted in them all. But it
is good for a man to bear the yoke in his youth ; and I find that
every duty brings its own peculiar pleasure. I accompanied Mr.
Clark * to Lexington on Friday, to the desolate house of his
ancestors. The day was cold, the season in its sere and yellow
leaf, and every thing as rueful as need to be. The old gentleman
could not but have considered it as probably his final visit, though
he is still in good health and spirits. I saw the monument to the
first victims of ' British tyranny and oppression,' and read the
inscription (poor as it is) with something of a thrill at my elbows."
Early in the month of October, his brother Sherman removed
from New Haven, and became jointly concerned with his cousin,
Edwin Croswell, in the Albany Argus. From two letters, ad
dressed to him at Albany, the following passages are selected :
" October 10. Father writes sadly enough about ' this severing of
the members of our family,' and of its tendency ' to weaken the
strong attachment for the spot where they were reared.' We must
counteract this by strengthening and multiplying our lines of com
munication, and binding ourselves as strong as may be in the bonds
of ink and paper." " December 4. I have been reading with great,
though melancholy gratification, the Memoir and Remains of the
late Edmund D. Griffin. You will find a short expression of my
views and feelings in the last Banner. My acquaintance with him
was but slight ; but my appreciation of his character was always

* Thomas Clark, Esq., senior warden of Christ Church. A melancholy
interest is imparted to this extract from the circumstance of Mr. Clakk's death,
which took place on the 29th of May of the following year.

108 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1831.
very high. I saw him last in the pulpit, and the circumstance
invests his image in my memory with solemn and beautiful associa
tions. The coincidence between his age and my own has served
to deepen the impression which the perusal, under any circumstances,
cannot fail to produce, and gives freshness and awe to the warning,
'Let your loins also be girt about, and your lamps burning, and ye
yourselves as men that wait for their Lord.' "
The last letter, of the present year, from which any extracts can
be made, is addressed to his father, under date of November 7 :
" This is my birthday, and I hope its beauty and brightness are
pledges and earnests of many more such to come. Life is wearing
away at a round rate, and I ought to be a wiser and better man
than I am. I have not entered upon a new year without many
solemn resolutions for the future improvement of time, some of
which, by the blessing of God, 1 trust I shall be enabled to keep.
I need not ask your prayers that I may be enabled to do so, for I
know that I have them always."
In the same letter, he thus expresses his strong solicitude and
Christian sympathy for a beloved cousin, who was, at the time,
withering away under the ravages of a pulmonary consumption :
" I am sorry for poor John. Assure him of my love and sympathy,
and that I shall not fail to bear him on my mind and in my prayers.
I hope he will not long remain a stranger to the covenant of prom
ises in the gospel. What can sustain us in our hour of distress but
its consolations 1 Our afflictions are sanctified to us, if they con
vince us of our sins, if they make us realize our wretchedness, if
they melt down our hearts, if they wean us from the world, and
turn our anxious thoughts to a Savior. Then let him cast himself
upon God's mercy through Christ, and endeavor, in dependence
upon the Spirit of grace, to live a life of faith in the Son of God.
Joy, and peace, and all the fruits of the Spirit will follow ; for him
that cometh with such a disposition of mind, He has assured us He
will in no wise cast out."
After the decease of this young man, which occurred within a
short period, he addressed the following letter of condolence to his
sister : " On an occasion like this, it is my vocation to be, like
Barnabas, a ' son of consolation,' and it would be mockery if I did
not follow the deepest impulses of my feelings. The intelligence
of cousin John's death, under any circumstances, could not but
have deeply affected me ; and prepared as I thought myself at any
moment to hear it, I found that it was still so unexpected, that it
greatly shocked me. I cannot but reproach myself that I had not
expressed the strong desire and anticipation that I had of seeing
him once more on this side of the grave. If I could have had an
idea that his departure was so shortly to have been accomplished,
it would certainly have hastened my return. I was ever sincere!"

1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. ]09
attached to him, and believe that our regard was mutual, and would
gladly have given you occasion to feel and say, 'Behold, how he
loved him ! ' . . . But though absent in body, rest assured,
dear cousin, that I am with you in spirit. I bear you in my mind,
and in my daily prayers to that divine Being who is touched with a
feeling of our mortal woe. He is still with his followers, of whom
it was truly said, ' If thou hadst been here, my brother had not
died.' The same blessed promise of comfort with which he once
stayed the bier, still bids the mourners ' weep not ; ' and though the
young man do not now immediately sit up and speak, yet it is but
a little while, and ' your brother sliall rise again.' Rely upon this
gracious assurance, and implore the aid of his blessed Spirit, to
support, to soothe, and to sanctify. And as our little company is
one by one broken down, let us who survive be bound more and
more in love together. May we endeavor to devote our future lives
more entirely to the service of our Redeemer. As friend after
friend departs, may our affections be carried forward with them
beyond the world, and may we live as becomes those who are heirs
of the same immortality. So may we all at last attain to the bless
edness of the redeemed, of which we have such good hope that
your brother, by the merits of Christ, has become a partaker ; not
one of us all being lost in that day ' when the Lord maketh up his
jewels.' . . . Wherefore, comfort one another, and especially
your widowed mother, with tliese words ; and let us commend our
selves and each other to God, aud to the good word of his grace,
which is able to build us up, and to give us an inheritance among
all them that are sanctified."

1832.

The selections from the correspondence of this year will be
sparingly made. This course is plainly dictated by an expression
in one of his own letters, where he says, " It would be my wish to
have all my correspondence destroyed as soon as it has secured its
purpose." He doubtless apprehended, though perhaps without any
good reason, that by some possibility, his letters, if filed away and
preserved, might eventually fall into hands where their free and
confiding language might be construed to his disadvantage ; and
hence he adds, with a very natural and significant pun, "The vipers
will have enough to gnaw upon, without gnawing upon any such
files." Many of his letters were written in a light and buoyant spirit,

110 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832.
often full of sparkling wit and sprightly sallies, aud sometimes with
a keen spice of satire, but all mingled with the kindest feelings and
reflections. There were times, however, in the course of the year,
when his letters, as well as his diary, betrayed a tendency to depres
sion of spirits and unwonted anxiety of mind. This was doubtless
to be imputed to his excessive bodily and mental labors, and such
vexatious cares and afflictive dispensations as very naturally affected
his health, and brought on occasional turns of nervous excitement
and consequent debility. Such was the anxiety of his friends on his
account, that they earnestly recommended a sea voyage ; and it was
even thought advisable to procure for him, if possible, a chaplaincy
in the navy. And, at the same time, he had frequent applications,
direct and indirect, to change the scene of his pastoral labors. But
it will be seen that every inducement of this kind was resisted, and
that he still remained at his post, allowing himself only the occa
sional relaxation of a visit to his parents and friends.
Of the extent of his parochial labors enough has already been
said. But in addition to these labors, with the joint care of the
Banner, his share of the Price Lectures, and bis various engage
ments with missionary and other societies, he was called, the present
year, by the popular voice, to the irksome aud responsible office of a
member of the school committee, which, from the thorough manner
in which the business of teaching in Boston is conducted, proved to
be a most formidable burden.
But all these labors and cares were not sufficient to check the
current of his poetical musings. In his journal of January 2, he
records the writing of the following, for the ensuing number of the
Banner : —

THE SYNAGOGUE.
*' But even unto this day, when Moses is read, tlie vail is upon tlieir heart
Nevertheless, when it shall turn to tlie Lord, the vail shall be taken away."
Saint Pact..
I saw them in their synagogue as in their ancient' day,
And never from my memory the scene will fade away ;
For dazzling on my vision still the latticed galleries shine
With Israel's loveliest daughters, in their beauty half divine.
It is the holy Sabbath eve ; the solitary light
Sheds, mingled with the hues of day, a lustre nothing bright;
On swarthy brow and piercing glance it falls with sadden Jig tinge,
And dimly gilds the Pharisee's phylacteries and fringe.
The two-leaved doors slide slow apart before the Eastern screen,
As rise thc Hebrew harmonies, with chanted prayers between •

1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. Ill
And 'mid the tissued veils disclosed, of many a gorgeous dye,
Enveloped in their jewelled scarfs, the sacred records lie.
Robed in his sacerdotal vest, a silvery-headed man,
With voice of solemn cadence o'er the backward letters ran ;
And often yet methinks I see the glow and power that sate
Upon his face, as forth he spread the roll immaculate.
And fervently, that hour, I prayed, that from the mighty scroll
Its light, in burning characters, might break on every soul ;
That on their hardened hearts the vail might be no longer dark,
But be forever rent in twain, like that before the ark.
For yet the tenfold film shall fall, O Judah! from thy sight,
And every eye be purged to read thy testimonies right,
When thou, with all Messiah's signs in Christ distinctly seen,
Shalt, by Jehovah's nameless name, invoke the Nazarene.

The following also appears in the same number of the Banner,
and has been copied into several " extract books."

FOR A CHILD'S ALBUM.
Dear child of many a hope and prayer,
Write in this little book
No thought on which thou wouldst not dare
To have thy Savior look.
On every line, O, may he pour
Some glimmering of that ray
Which shineth ever more and more
Unto the perfect day.
Thine be a daily growth in grace,
Whatever else betide,
In favor with our rescued race,
And God be on thy side ;
In holiness and purity
An upward path to trace,
Till, with thine angel, thou shalt see
In heaven thy Father's face.
The following tribute to the memory of an esteemed classmate
and friend, is found in a letter of the 11th of March, on the first
afflictive intelligence of his death : " Your last, my dear father, is a

112 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832.
checkered leaf, with much of good, but, like the world of which it
is an emblem, with some of ill. It is my endeavor to keep my
feelings open to all aspects of Providence, whether cheerful or mel
ancholy, and to endeavor to derive such impressions from them as
may be turned to permanent benefit. This is the use which our
heavenly Father intended, doubtless, should be made of them, as
instruments of our moral discipline for another state of existence.
But I have no time to moralize ; and this is not the place, even if
I had. Your letter gave me the first intelligence of Daniel
Whiting. I should be ashamed of myself if it had not made an
abiding impression. I loved him dearly, and lament his death with
unaffected sorrow. It has not been long out of my mind since I
heard of it ; and if my engagements allow, I shall not resist the
impulse to arrange some thoughts in verse, as a slight memorial of
my esteem. The shock to his parents must be almost insupporta
ble, for Daniel was not only their favorite, but the favorite of all
his friends. I trust we shall meet hereafter."
The verses here suggested were written, as appears from the
date, while on a subsequent visit to New Haven.

IN MEMORY OF D. W.
" Heu ! Quanto minus est coin reliquis versari quam tui meminisse."
Once how my exiled schoolboy heart
Would with impatience yearn
For those dear vernal holidays
When I might homeward turn !
And "haven where I would be" then,
How fondly would I say,
Thou wert too fair to look upon,
Save on such holiday ! *
And still thy bowers are beautiful,
Thy walks are fair to see,
But time and troublous thought have worked
A dreary change in me ;
And year by year thy loveliness
Has on my sense grown dim,
Till thou hast scarce a charm unbroke
Since thou art spoiled of him.
* "TO"* * ¦"* last °n <** Primrose bank, and looked down these meadows,
I thought of them as Charles the Emperor did of the city of Florence, - that
they were too pleasant to be looked on, but only on holidays." Walton.

1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 113
A grief for which all words are weak
Has pierced me to the quick,
Nor dare I trust myself to speak
The thoughts that crowd so thick ;
I yield me to the consciousness
Which death and sorrow bring,
That all of earth we dote upon
Hath no continuing.
New Haven, May, 1832.
While absent from Boston on this visit, he suffered a severe
bereavement in the death of his venerated and much-esteemed
friend, the senior warden of his church, Thomas Clark, Esq. Such
a loss, under any circumstances, would have been to him a sad
trial ; for Mr. Clark had been not only a warm personal friend,
but a faithful church officer, and a most discreet and judicious
counsellor. But in the present case, he felt the dispensation the
more keenly, because he could not be present to administer the last
consolations of religion, nor to officiate at the funeral solemnities.
As communications could be made from place to place, at that time,
only through the tardy mails, and the passages by stage or by
water, the only modes of conveyance, were long and somewhat
uncertain, it was found impossible for him to return in time for the
performance of these offices. This was a source of much grief,
though not of self-reproach ; for the obstacles were entirely provi
dential, and beyond his control. On the receipt of the melancholy
tidings, he wrote a letter of explanation and condolence to the
bereaved family, and hastened his return to Boston, being, as he
expresses himself in his diary, "very much affected by the intelli
gence." On the Sunday following he preached a funeral sermon,
from the text, " The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found
in the way of righteousness." Prov. xvi. 31. " The church," he
says, " was full to overflowing, and the appearance of the black
hangings on the gallery and wardens' seat was very solemn and
imposing. The occasion made the sermon an affecting one. It
was, however, a trying duty to me ; and I am relieved that it has
been discharged, and so satisfactorily." In the mean time, the
following well-deserved tribute appeared in the Banner of the 2d
of June : —
"With unfeigned sorrow we announce the death, on the morning
of the 29th ultimo, of Thomas Clark, Esq., for many years the
senior warden of Christ Church in this city, and a member of the
standing committee of Massachusetts. The Church has nowhere
left a more devoted servant than is thus lost to her on earth. We
will go further than this : we have never known the man who, with
15

114 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832.
the same opportunities, has done the church such valuable service ;
and the simple secret was, that, like good Hezekiah, ' in every work
that he began in the service of the house of God, and in the law,
and in the commandments, to seek his God, he did it with all his heart,
and prospered.' It is not our purpose to write an obituary notice
"of Mr. Clark. That, at the proper time, will be done by a more
fitting hand. We could not suffer our paper, however, to go to
press, without this brief commemoration of one of the most mem
orable of the servants of God within our knowledge. Of few can
it be said, as of him, that he identified his own interests with the
Church, — nay, that he postponed them to it. The faithful and
devoted guardian of the temporalities of Christ Church for many
years, his last days were literally spent in its service. Mr. Clark
was seventy-three years of age, and for more than three has been
evidently sinking under the weight of infirmity and age. Yet
emerging from an indisposition which confined him during nearly
all the last winter to his chamber, he undertook and prosecuted,
and, under God, by the energy which he inspired, — for he pos
sessed universal respect and confidence, — virtually accomplished an
enterprise which men much younger and much stronger than he
counted as hopeless. It was among the chief satisfactions of his
last hours, that God had so far prospered his heart's desire. ' They
have done nobly,' he said of the members of the parish — ' they
have done nobly, and God will bless them.' But Mr. Clark was
not a Churchman outwardly alone. His heart was in the Church,
as the Church was in his heart. Next to laboring for the house of
God, his delight was to stand within its courts. As his last public
act was in its service, so the last place in which he was, except his
dying chamber, was the sanctuary of the Lord ; and his last desire
was, that he might commemorate the dying love of his Savior
' according to the rites,' as he emphatically added, ' of the Prot
estant Episcopal Church.' On Sunday afternoon, the sacrament
was administered to him in the presence of the family and friends
of his love, and never was its administration more impressive.
From a stupor of many hours' duration, he aroused himself so
completely as to unite throughout, with full and fervent voice, in the
sublime service of the Church, and, after receiving the last pledge
of redeeming mercy, to commend his soul — not forgetting, as he
never forgot them, pious wishes for the prosperity of the Church
and the happiness of his friends — to its merciful Creator, in simple
and sincere reliance on the merits of the Savior. During the even
ing, he continued able and disposed to converse, using mostly the
language of the Scriptures, and with especial fervor the Psalms —
dwelling most delightedly upon the promises to the Church and her
anticipated triumphs, and often adding, 'Praise the Lord, O my
soul ! ' and with characteristic energy, ' I will praise the Lord while

1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 115
I have my being ! ' From this he sank again into a state of appar
ent insensibility, only awaking for a few moments before his death,
at half past one on Tuesday morning, to express his perfect resig
nation to the will of God, not only in regard to himself, but — what
he had once said constituted ' the bitterness of his cup ' — his be
reaved family.
" Mr. Clark was in all the relations of life an excellent and
exemplary man. In the public station which for years he held, he
enjoyed the confidence and respect of all. He was well known to
exercise a benevolence beyond his means ; and the writer of this
has occasion to know, — : though Mr. Clark was ignorant that he
knew it, as his retired and quiet spirit would have had all men
ignorant, — that his secret charities were of the most delicate,
munificent, and unostentatious character. To the service of the
parish of Christ Church he not only devoted his time, his influence,
and his exertions, but he embarked in its interests a great portion
of his little property ; and it may be said without presumption, in
more senses than one, that the zeal of God's house consumed him.
He was for many years a faithful and efficient delegate to the Con
ventions both of the commonwealth and of the diocese, and a useful
member of the standing committee. It was a trait in his character
to do well whatever he undertook. In every thing, he aimed to be
sincere, open, generous, steadfast, uniform. He was always on the
side of sound sense, sound principle, good order, and good morals.
He was a good citizen. He was a devoted, exemplary, and consistent
Christian. He was a Churchman through and through. He wished,
during his sickness, for the prayers provided for him by his mother,
the Church, and he would have no other. Her services, as they
were the choice and glory of his manhood, so they were the refresh
ment of his old age and the solace of his death. He is gathered
to his fathers, as a shock of corn fully ripe. May we die the death
of the righteous, and our last end be like his."
In explanation of the allusion, in the foregoing extract, to an
enterprise on which Mr. Clark bestowed the last energies of his
life, it is proper to say, that when the Rev. Dr. Eaton resigned the
rectorship of Christ Church, the parish, in grateful consideration
of his past services, settled upon him a liberal annuity for the
residue of his life. It was soon discovered, however, that the rais
ing of "this sum annually was a cause of great embarrassment to
the parish, and had a tendency to retard its growth, besides render
ing it inconvenient to make suitable provision for the new incumbent.
Hence, an arrangement was proposed, and accepted by Dr. Eaton,
by which, on the receipt of a stipulated sum from the parish, he
was to surrender all claims to the annuity. In making this arrange-

116 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832.
ment Mr. Clark was chiefly instrumental. He lived to see the
enterprise so far accomplished ; but it was only by a slow and labo
rious process that the means could be raised for carrying out the
contract on the part of the parish. It was a cause of great anxiety
to the new incumbent ; but he applied himself with all his energy
and influence to its completion, and he had the satisfaction of suc
ceeding, and of paying over the stipulated sum to his venerated
predecessor on the day before the ensuing Christmas. Speaking of
the festivities, he says, " Our congregation felt that the congratula
tions of the season were enhanced by a settlement with Dr. Eaton
which was accomplished the day before." .
Among the records of this year there are many spirited, not tc
say indignant, allusions to the proceedings of the diocesan Conven
tion of Massachusetts, which commenced its session in Boston 01
the 20th of June. The following remark precedes a full anc
minute account of the transactions of this Convention in the Ban
ner : " There was no extraordinary business transacted at tht
Convention, though some of the ordinary business, as will be seei-
below, was done in an extraordinary manner, and led to extraordi
nary results." It is not desirable, nor is it necessary or expedient
to awaken the painful recollection of these transactions, or tc
mingle up with these personal memoirs the working of party
machinery on that memorable occasion. But in this connection it
must be said, in justice to the deceased, that with every disposition
to cultivate a spirit of forbearance and harmony among his brethren,
he could look on these proceedings only with disgust, and with
utter distrust of the wisdom and integrity of party counsels.
To turn to more pleasant themes : The following greeting to his
namesake and godson, after having been sent home in manuscript,
was published in the Banner : —

TO MY NAMESAICE, WILLIAM CROSWELL DOANE,
ON HIS BAPTISM.
"Formose Puer."
Childe William, I have little skill,
But much of heart and hope, •
To clear from every sign of ill
Thy happy horoscope.
The occult gift is hid from me,
Nor may my art divine
Thy life's unfolded destiny
From this sweet palm of thine.

1832.] CHRIST CHURCH. 117
But in thy mother's tender love,
Thy father's anxious care,
And, more, the answer from above
To our baptismal prayer —
In these a hallowed influence dwells,
A charm that's heavenlier far
Than might of planetary spells
Or culminating star.
The power of holiest rites, fair boy,
The tears that oft will wet
Thy forehead from excess of joy —
These be thy amulet !
On these auspicious prospects rest,
These figure out thy fate ;
How can they fail to make thee blest —
Blest, if not fortunate ?
A childless man, well may I deem
Thy name my highest pride,
Rich in thy parents' dear esteem,
Though poor in all beside ;
Well may my heart with gladness ache,
Flower of a noble stem,
If one will love thee for my sake,
As I have honored them.
Boston, Tuesday in Whitsun week, June 12, 1832.

In the course of the year, several changes took place in the
pastoral relations of the Episcopal churches in Boston. The Rev.
G. W. Doane, rector of Trinity Church, was elected to the episco
pate of New Jersey ; and the Rev. John H. Hopkins, assistant
minister of the same church, to the episcopate of Vermont. The
Rev. Dr. A. Potter resigned the rectorship of St. Paul's, and the
Rev. John L. Stone was called to supply the vacancy. But none
of these changes, with the exception of the removal of his friend
Doane, affected the incumbent of Christ Church. It was deemed
the imperative duty of Mr. Doane to accept the office to which he
was elected ; but the separation of the two friends, after their long
and confiding intimacy, was exceedingly trying to both. The junior
foresaw that it would be utterly impracticable to take the whole
labor and responsibility of the editorship of the Banner upon him
self ; and as the income, at the low price of the paper, was inade
quate to sustain an independent editor, measures were immediately
taken for the transfer of the subscription list to the New York
Churchman, and for closing the publication of the Banner in Bos-

118 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1832.
ton. Under date of November 27, he writes: "We unfurl the
Banner once more at half mast, this week, as a signal of distress,
and of our intention to surrender to the Churchman. I am heartily
glad to have my hands clear of it, at an/ expense ; and our breth
ren in New York have no less reason to be glad at an accession to
their lists, which will make their paper a source of revenue."
Again, on the 3d of December: "I think our New Haven
subscribers will find the Churchman a desirable exchange for the
Banner, in its larger size, variety of contents, and chiefly from its
being issued from ' head quarters.' It was a thing spoken of at
New York, during our late sojourn, as desirable, that I should
assume the management of that paper. But God forbid ! Except
as a correspondent, I purpose never to have any further connection
with the periodical press."
The following is found in his manuscript collections, under date
of New York, October 31, 1832, the day on which his friend Doane
was consecrated to the episcopate of New Jersey. This sufficiently
explains its meaning. AD AMICUM.
Let no gainsaying lips despise thy youth ;
Like his, the great Apostle's favorite son,
Whose early rule at Ephesus begun:
Thy Urim and thy Thummim — Light and Truth —
Be thy protection from the Holy One :
And for thy fiery trials, be there shed
A sevenfold grace on thine anointed head,
Till thy "right onward" course shall all be run.
And.when thy earthly championship is through,
Thy warfare fought, thy battle won,
And heaven's own palms of triumph bright in view,
May this thy thrilling welcome be : " Well done !
Because thou hast been faithful over few,
A mightier rule be thine, O servant good and true ! "

In his letter, dated on the last day of the year, he says, " To
morrow we open church again, in commemoration of the Circum
cision, and intend to do so on all the holy days throughout the year.
This has become the more desirable, in consequence of Trinity
Church being closed on those days, since Bishop Doane abdicated
the rectorship. I expect that we shall commence with great spirit,
and I have endeavored to secure a better attendance than I have
ever yet seen in the great central churches."
After a few touching reflections on the death of friends during

1833.]

CHRIST CHURCH. 119

the year, he closes this letter thus : " Alas ! how many are the dead
of 1832, and some of them how dear ! Who are to be the dead
of 1833 1 None of us, I trust, who shall be found otherwise than
as those who wait for the coming of their Lord. Amen."

1833.
Among the leading incidents of this year may be recorded the
result of a negotiation which is alluded to in one of the letters of
the last. He had declined an informal proposal to resign the rec
torship of Christ Church, Boston, for the purpose of assuming the
editorship of the New York Churchman. But this refusal was by
no means satisfactory to his New York friends ; and early in the
present year, a new and more formal effort was made to induce him
to change his purpose, and to consent once more to enter upon the
cares and responsibilities of editorial life. In a letter to his father,
of the 4th of March, he speaks of a direct overture from some of
the leading Episcopalians of New York to accept, with a liberal
salary, the entire management of the Churchman ; and his friend
Doane so far favored the plan, that he offered, if it should be
thought desirable, to divide the responsibility, and act jointly with
him in the enterprise. He continues : " I soon convinced him,
however, that it was a line of life any thing but desirable, and one
which all my past experience has led me to regard with loathing
and dread. But for this experience, I might be tempted to regard
such a proposition favorably ; but if I ever embark in such a busi
ness again, I do it with eyes open to all the anxieties, privations,
and weariness of the flesh which is sure to follow the oversight of
any press. . . . Nothing but the most entire convictions of
duty could ever again overcome my reluctance to encounter this
painful drudgery ; and as no such convictions of duty are upon my
mind in this case, I instructed him most peremptorily to decline.
A still and quiet parish for me ; and the less I have to do
with the great world, so much the better. God willing, I shall let
nothing divert me again from this original purpose of my heart :
though not my will, but His be done ! "
But notwithstanding this peremptory refusal, his friends in New
York seemed unwilling to abandon the plan ; and he soon received
from one of the soundest, and most judicious, and influential cler
gymen of the city an urgent appeal to every motive that might be
deemed most likely to govern his decision, to review the case, and
endeavor to give them a favorable answer. The letter was written

120 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
in the most kind, persuasive, and flattering terms ; and it produced,
as he acknowledges to his father in the subjoined extract, some
doubt and misgiving as to the correctness of his decision. " My
dear father, on the subject of the proposal contained ii} the above,
I have already expressed my sentiments. I must confess, notwith
standing, that I am somewhat staggered by this appeal. I am
mistaken, if it does not move you also. I hope I am not variable ;
but, more than this, I hope I shall always change when change is
for the better. Though I am not prepared to avow any alteration
in my disposition to entertain favorably this plan, as already given
to you, it is obvious that it cannot consistently be rejected without
much reflection and consideration. With regard to my situation
here, I never felt more perplexity. My parochial prospects were
never more unclouded than at this moment ; but my apprehension
is that they will not long be suffered to continue so. All I can say
is, that mine hour is not yet come. ... I cannot help shrink
ing at the idea of linking myself once more to the weekly press ;
and yet when I consider what a paper might be made at New York,
with such coadjutors as  and  , my spirit kindles again
within me, and I feel willing to devote myself to such prospects of
usefulness ; and then, again, I pause to inquire whether I am not
building an unsubstantial pageant, the baseless fabric of a vision,
such as can never exist except in an ardent and ill-regulated imagi
nation. Whether real or fanciful, however, these thoughts of my
head trouble me. I commit the case to God in prayer, and to you
in this wise. To no other human being here can I open my mind,
except Bishop Doane. I would like to have you review your own
opinions, and communicate by the very first mail ; and till I hear,
I shall feel much in suspense. Understand, however, that I can
bring myself to contemplate the acceptance of this invitation only
on condition of its being associated with some easy parochial cure
in the neighborhood of the city. At my time of hfe, I would not
willingly withdraw from the ranks of the working clergy ; and with
my present stock of sermons, I should have no difficulty on that
score. In short, to end as I began, I know not what to do. I am
not sure but it will be my duty to go ; and I trust inclination will
surrender its claims, if I can find out that it has any for a different
course. You can of course view the question in all its bearings
more dispassionately than I, and I shall be governed mainly by your
opinion." To this dutiful and affecting appeal his father had but one answer
to give ; and this answer was founded on long experience and
observation, and was in perfect accordance with all the former
opinions which he had expressed on similar subjects. Whether
right or not, it had the effect to fortify the son as to the correctness
of his previous decision ; and though a parish was offered him, in

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 121
addition to the other inducements, he felt it to be his duty to decline
the proposal. His own language will best express his feelings. In
a letter of April 3d he says, " I confess I have had a great strife of
feeling witlw-egard to  's application ; and all the changes of
mood and various fluctuations of my irresolute mind have been laid
by turns before you in my frequent letters. You will perceive by my
last, in which I express myself without reserve, as in all before, that
I have at length settled down into the same convictions which you
yourself entertain ; and if I had been doubtful, I need not assure
you that yours, received this morning, would have satisfied me that
it was not my duty to take a step so contrary to your wishes. On
this subject, therefore, you may set your mind at ease; and, at the
same time, I shall relieve my own from all its past perplexity, by
sending in the next mail a peremptory refusal to the gentlemen
of New York. I never did any thing more cheerfully than I shall
do this ; and I shall once more bend myself, with fresh interest, to
the duties of a parish, of whose entire and unshaken devotion to
me I was never so fully assured."
But this subject must not be dismissed without adding, in justice
to his own memory and to the credit of his warm-hearted corre
spondent, a few extracts from his reply to his last letter.
New York, April 11, 1833.
Rev. and dear Brother: Your letter of the 4th instant was received
in due course, and was last evening submitted to the trustees of the press,
in lieu of that which I had fondly hoped to present — a ratification of an
arrangement to do your Master's work in the wide field to which we would
have called you. That you have been calm, single-hearted, and conscien
tious in making your decision, I cannot doubt ; that it has been judicious, I
will not question ; that it has been grievous in an extreme to those, whom,
had you known as I do, you would, I think, have been more anxious to help
in their work, I know but too well. In one way only can you make amends
for the pain you have given us. Let that pen, the powers of which appear
so plainly even when it is attempting to prove its own weakness, be statedly
and freely employed as a coadjutor in the work, to which you have refused
to consecrate its whole energies. Pray, help me with scraps — if they be
but scraps — of thoughts, doctrinal, practical, devotional, or critical, in prose
or verse, on subjects old or new, foreign or domestic, such as come to you
most naturally, and such as give pleasure, relief, or comfort to a mind tasked
with other things. Thus you can do something to alleviate a burden, which,
I fear, you have fixed on me, even till it may crush me, and thus can at least
show more kindness than he deserves to your faithful and true friend and
brother. The next prominent incident to be recorded is a most perilous
accident, which occurred on his return from a long visit to his
friends in New York, New Jersey, Albany, Troy, Catskill, and New
Haven. The first intimation of this accident received by his family
in New Haven was through a paragraph in a Boston newspaper,
stating the simple fact that the Rev. William Croswell had been
severely injured by the upsetting of a stage at Walpole, a post town
16

122 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
some twenty miles from Boston, and had been taken up in a state
of insensibility. There was neither telegraph nor railroad at that
time, nor was there any direct mode of conveyance except by the
mail stages. His friends, therefore, were compelled^ to wait in
painful suspense for the arrival of the eastern mail. But the mail,
when it came, brought no letter; and this circumstance very much
increased their anxiety. It was now resolved, therefore, to despatch
his brother Sherman by the first stage, to ascertain the true state
of the case, and to be ready to render any assistance that might be
required. He took his seat, and had been gone half an hour, when
his father, on stepping into the post office, found a letter, in the
handwriting of William, which had been miscarried to Newark,
N. J., on the previous day, and was now returned by the southern
mail ! Learning from this letter that the injury was not as serious
as had been apprehended, it was thought advisable to prevent his
brother's proceeding on the journey, under all the painful suspense
necessarily arising from the circumstances ; hence a messenger was
despatched to overtake the mail stage, to relieve him, as well from
the fatigue of the journey as from the anxiety of his mind. The
letter above mentioned, under date of May 20, after giving a graphic
and pleasing account of the commencement of his journey, from
New York to Providence, in the splendid steamer " Boston," pro
ceeds thus to describe the accident and its results : " For the
remainder of my journey, I am sorry to say that its end did not
correspond with its beginning ; though, by the mercy of God, I am
the monument of an almost miraculous preservation. We arrived
at Providence at half past four o'clock on Saturday morning ; and
I immediately took my seat in the mail Pilot, which goes consid
erably in advance of the other coaches. We got on rapidly and
safely to the half-way house at Walpole ; but as we drove headlong
towards the door, with a smart flourish, the carriage separated from
the wheels, and precipitated every thing to the ground with great
violence — baggage, passengers, and pieces of the carriage, all in
one tumultuous heap. Marvellous to relate, though the carriage
was broken to fragments, by the divine goodness no person was
seriously injured ; but your son and servant, who was on the box
with the driver, with characteristic misfortune, made the nearest
approaches to it. I was somewhat stunned by the shock, and, when
I recovered, found myself in bed, with my forehead considerably
scratched and defaced, but not in the slightest degree endangered.
When the physician arrived, however, he insisted on bleeding and
giving medicine ; and that the operation might have its full advan
tage, I consented to remain another day at Walpole, and had
excellent care taken of me. Rumors of my shipwreck, more or
less exaggerated, in the mean time reached Boston ; and my friends
were soon on their way in troops to see me. Early yesterday they

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 123
came in a close carriage, and got me into town very comfortably
before nightfall. Of my health to-day you may judge something
by my ability to write this letter, but more from my solemn and
explicit assurance that I am perfectly sound, mind and limb, and,
excepting a little weakness and soreness occasioned by the jar and
straining of the cords, my health is excellent. What most was
apprehended was some affection of the head and brain ; but of this
there lias not been the slightest symptom. You must not allow
yourselves, therefore, to have your apprehensions excited by any
thing you may see in the newspapers, or from irresponsible sources.
The rumor, no farther off than Boston, was that several of us were
killed instantly. More than half of my parish would have been at
Walpole to-day, had I remained. I need not tell you with what
kindness I have been overpowered, the moment my friends heard
of the circumstances."
In a letter a week later, May 27, after speaking of the gross
carelessness which occasioned the delay of his first letter, and caused
so much suspense and anxiety among his New Haven friends, he
says, " Had I known that you were all in the dark about me so long,
without any information but those exaggerated and contradictory
rumors in the papers, which were worse than ignorance, I am sure
it would have had more of a tendency to retard the progress of my
recovery than the accident itself. As it was, I had gained a great
start before your letter came to hand ; and having the whole of the
drama before me, with all its scenes of doubt and perplexity clear
ing up to a happy and satisfactory development, a feeling of grati
tude predominates over all the rest, and I cannot find it in my
heart to make a clamor and outcry about it. I should be sorry
indeed to have had Sherman taken his wearisome way hither, with
such painful impressions on his mind ; but I need not assure him
and you that we should all be exceedingly glad to have seen him."
In a subsequent letter, Sunday, June 2, he indulges in a line or
two of pleasantry on the subject of this accident: "The 'reverend
clergyman,' your son, who has figured of late so much on the
' stage,' in the higher walks of tragedy, has proved to-day that his
powers are still undiminished in another line, by preaching thrice,
and baptizing, besides attending Sunday schools and Bible classes,
and sundry et ceteras." But he does not close, without returning
to that serious train of thought which pervades all his writings.
Speaking of his mother's proposed journey, he says, " I sincerely
rejoice that no part of it need be in the perils of mail coaches. We
are equally in the care, however, of a superintending Providence,
whether in motion or at rest, and, with all earthly appliances of
comfort around, can never say, Now am I secure. It is right that
it is so, that we may feel at every moment our entire dependence
on our almighty Preserver. My first sermon, on my return to my

124 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
my people, was on this subject, from Paul's noble avowal, when in
danger of shipwreck, " Whose I am, and whom I serve," showing
how we are God's by right of creation and redemption, and the
duty of avowing and exhibiting by our conduct that we are his, in
whatever circumstances we may be placed.
Again, on the 10th of June, he writes, " I am still well to do, as
you may easily judge by token, having sustained without flinching
three entire services yesterday, performed the baptismal office three
times, and done all other things wliich a Christian minister can do
in the Sunday school, Bible class, &c. Let no man's heart fail
him, therefore, because of me. God has been truly gracious, and
his holy name be praised."
It is evident from these extracts, and from several corresponding
notes in his diary, that he felt no apprehension from the effects of
the accident. But it is to be observed that, from this time forward,
he frequently alluded in his letters to some irregularities in his sys
tem, to which he had hitherto been a stranger. Headache and
chills, languor and inertness, coldness and irritability ofthe stomach,
and an excessive degree of nervous sensibility, at times disturbed
him. Nor is it improbable that a most singular involuntary con
traction of the muscles on that side of the face and head on which
he fell, by which he was sorely afflicted in the latter years of his
life, may be imputed to this cause ; and there is but too much reason
to apprehend that it laid the foundation for the malady, which
finally, in such a sudden and extraordinary manner, terminated
his life.
In collecting the poetical productions which are preserved in
these pages, it is easy to perceive the peculiar appropriateness of
one of the terms by which the writer himself chose to characterize
these various gems. They were indeed " fugitive." With the
exception of those which were expressly prepared for publica
tion, during his connection with the periodical press, they were
often thrown off without any pains to mark their origin or the
occasion on which they were written. Sometimes they were con
veyed in private letters to his friends, sometimes sent anonymously
to the public newspapers, and sometimes put aside among his mis
cellaneous papers, without date or signature. But some few of
them were transcribed, probably by his own sanction, in a man
uscript collection ; and by the help of these, with occasional allu
sions in his diary and correspondence, it is not difficult to arrest and
identify many of these fugitives, and restore them to their rightful
owner. Among these the following is found. It was addressed to a
young and warm-hearted friend, Captain Joseph P. Codthout.*
* Mr. Couthocy's name will frequently appeal-, in the subsequent pages of

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 125
when on the point of embarking for the Mediterranean, in a mer
chant vessel, named, under his own direction, " The Heber."

All gentle gales,
Serene and smiling skies, thy- course attend ;
The " winds of God " and goodness fill thy sails,
My faithful friend.
And if the trust
Be not in vain, that Heaven does still assign
Our guardians from the spirits of the just,
Be Heber's thine !
And when 'tis o'er,
The stormy passage of our life, may we
Meet in that world where he has gone before,
Without a sea. W. C.

The following, as he states in his diary, was written at midnight
of the Epiphany, and is found in the manuscript collection. It has
probably never appeared in print.

MIDNIGHT THOUGHT.
'Tis the very verge of the midnight deep,
And I hark for the passing bell
That will presently come, with its solemn sweep,
To bid the last hour farewell ;
A lonely vigil it is to keep,
As I sadly think of those
Who have sunk away to their long, last sleep,
And their undisturbed repose.
But O, how happy to think, this night,
Of the eyes that are shut, like flowers,
To open again more fresh and bright,
With the brighter and fresher hours.
The hosts of God, who pitch their tents
. All good men round about,
Protect their slumbering innocence,
And " make their dreams devout."
this work, as the friend and correspondent of the rector of Christ Church, and
especially at a later period of his life, while he was attached to the scientific
corps of the South Sea exploring expedition.

126 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
Of the following he writes, January 20, "You have perhaps
discovered that some stanzas on Bishop White, in the last Church
man, sound like mine. I hope you will not think them unworthy
of me, much less of him."
'white.
" Clarum et venerabile nomen."
It was a consecrated place,
And thought still lingers there,
Where first I saw thee face to face,
And heard thy voice in prayer ;
Though thousands thronged each long-drawn aisle,
I dwelt upon thy mien,
As though alone it filled the pile,
So saintly and serene.
And there, arrayed on either hand,
A goodly sight to see,
Rose up our apostolic band,
A glorious company.
And still I deem that hour most blest
When round the shrine they stood,
With thee, the father of the rest,
A holy brotherhood.
Age had forborne thy frame to bow ;
Thine eye, without eclipse,
Seemed ready, like thy reverend brow,
For heaven's apocalypse ;
And well the thought that o'er thee stole
Might be of triumph high,
Like those which swelled the patriarch's soul
When he desired to die.
For lo ! the vine thy hand did plant
Extends its grateful shade,
Where every tired inhabitant
May sit, nor be afraid ;
Its fair succession spreads apace,
Till scarce the land has room,
Foretold, like Banquo's kingly race,
To stretch till " crack of doom."
O, may thy light, which lingers yet,
Long to our wishes fond,

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 127
Give promise, by its glorious set,
Of better things beyond :
A happy fate, old man, be thine,
Deserving of thy fame,
And robes reserved in worlds divine,
As pure as thine own name !

Next he is found indulging in a lighter strain. On the evening
before Valentine's Day, he amused himself in penning a valentine,
one copy of which he sent to his cousin Elizabeth, with the fol
lowing playful note : " Do not flatter yourself that the valentine
had any personal direction to yourself or any body else. It was
merely a trial of my amatory skill, to which I was challenged, and
to show what sort of a lover I could make, if I had any beau ideal
of a divinity in my thoughts." He also sent a copy to his brother
Sherman, to be published in the Albany Argus, accompanied by
this caution, in the same strain : "You need not fancy any personal
direction in my valentine, the  streak in question being only
the beau ideal of a bachelor's aspirations."

A YALENTLNE.

I stand the fated hours among ;
And ere their spell depart,
I would not leave thee all unsung,
Fair lady of my heart !
Though wintry airs are wondrous sharp,
Though storms obscure the moon,
And cold has snapped thy strings, poor harp !
My heart is still in tune.
Yes, let the world without be chill,
Let all be wild and wet,
The fire within glows brightly still,
The pulse throbs warmly yet ;
Nor will it throb, dear maid, in vain,
How rude soe'er the line,
Thy gentle heart will not disdain
Thine own true Valentine.

On an unoccupied page of a letter of March 30, he transcribes
the following touching lines ; and, in a subsequent letter, he says,

128 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
"As they are yet unappropriated, you may put them into any
' Mary's ' Bible that you like."

FOR MARY'S BIBLE.
Who sees, where in the sacred leaves,
The name of some dear friend
Its tribute at God's hand receives,
And saintliest lips commend,
And prays not that the Book may bear
For her that witness true,
That all the hallowed name who share
May be like-minded too ?
Wouldst have thy name in heaven's own page,
With heaven's own colors writ ?
Learn, in thy green, unsaddened age,
At Jesus' feet to sit ;
By faith unfeigned, and holy love,
And penitential prayer,
'Tis graven in the Book above,
And kept unfading there.

In his diary of June 25, he says, " Wrote valedictory stanzas to
my sister." These stanzas probably never appeared in print. They
are copied from the manuscript collection, where they appear under
the above date.

TO MY SISTER.
How like, alas ! in their estate
Are home and heart ! the one
Is left unto thee desolate,
Its thousand ties undone ;
The other, as the winds go by,
Sore charged with storm and rain,
Hear in their sound the dismal cry,
" When shall we meet again ! "
But hush, fond heart ! there is a home
Not made by hand of clay,
Where change and chance shall never come,
In heaven's eternal day.

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 129
For that loved rest thyself prepare
By deeds of holy strain,
Till, in the many mansions there,
We meet, nor part again.

The following lines were written under circumstances particularly
worthy of note. It was on the morning of the 4th of July, and
amid the festivity and pageantry of the day, that he broke away
from the company by which he was surrounded, and, according to
an entry in his diary, " went home and wrote a piece of poetry."
This is the production of such an hour ; and when it is recollected
that his friend Doane had now left the city, and removed with his
family to his episcopal residence in New Jersey, the significancy of
its language and sentiment will be well understood and appreciated.

TO G. W. D.
I miss thee at the morning tide,
The glorious hour of prime ;
I miss thee more, when day has died,
At blessed evening time.
As slide the aching hours away,
Still art thou unforgot ;
Sleeping or waking, night and day,
When do I miss thee not ?
How can I pass that gladsome door,
Where every favorite room
Thy presence made so bright before
Is loneliness and gloom ?
Each place where most thou lov'dst to be,
Thy home, thy house of prayer,
Seem yearning for thy company :
I miss thee every where.

The following appears to have been written at about the same
time, when he speaks in his diary of having " opened a new vein
of poetry." 17

130 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.

TO A SUNDAY SCHOOL TEACHER.
Much do we miss thee from thy gentle task
Of love and mercy, on the Sabbath day,
As gather round thy little ones to ask
What keeps their kindly Teacher far away.
The sweet and solemn quiet of the hours,
The sounds as solemn and as sweet as they,
In sevenfold cadence flung from yon old towers,
Where thou so oft hast met with us to pray —
These and the blessing on each head that brings
Young souls from darkness into light divine,
Connect thy memory with all heavenliest things,
And make a day of glorious prospect shine,
When they shall rise on strong, immortal wings,
And like a starry firmament shall shine.

In his diary of July 13 he speaks of his having written a sonnet ;
and he probably refers to the following, which is found in the man
uscript collection, without date. It is transcribed because it is, as
he styles it himself, an " exculpatory sonnet," and seems to explain
a trait in his deportment, which had been sometimes imputed to
studied distance and reserve, in his intercourse with society. He
here raises in his defence the example, and avails himself of the
language and sentiments, of an old English poet, who, it seems,
some three hundred years before, had suffered under the like
imputation. SONNET.*
Because I oft in dark, abstracted guise,
Seem most alone in greatest company,
With dearth of words, or answers quite awry
To them that would make speech of speech arise,
They deem, and of their doom the rumor flies,
That poison foul of bubbling pride doth lie
So in my swelling breast, that only I
Fawn on myself, and others do despise.
Yet pride, I think, doth not my soul possess,
Which looks too oft in his unflattering glass ;
* " For the first ten lineB of this exculpatory sonnet I am indebted to that
paragon of euphuists, worthy of all titles both of learning and chivalry, Sir
Philip Sidney ; for the remainder he is not responsible, nor for any violation
of the first canon of Horace, ' de arte poetica,' which may be involved in them."

1833.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 131
But one worse weakness I must needs confess,
That deep embarrassment which doth, alas !
Both mental powers and bodily oppress :
Hence rises my reserve, and not from willingness.

The following bears date August 23 : —

DE PROFUNDIS.
" There may be a cloud without a rainbow, but there cannot be a rainbow without a cloud."
My soul were dark
But for the golden light and rainbow hue,
That, sweeping heaven with their triumphal arc,
Break on the view.
Enough to feel
That God indeed is good. Enough to know,
Without the gloomy cloud, he could reveal
No beauteous bow.

In his diary of September 5, he speaks of having received a
paper containing the " Traveller's Hymn," of which a copy is found
in the manuscript collection.

TRAVELLER'S HYMN.
" In journey'rage often."
Lord ! go with us, and we go
Safely through the weariest length,
Travelling, if thou will'st it so,
In the greatness of thy strength ;
Through the day, and through the dark,
O'er the land, and o'er the sea,
Speed the wheel, and steer the bark,
Bring us where we fain would be.
In the self-controlling car,
'Mid the engine's iron din,
Waging elemental war,
Flood without, and flood within,

132 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1833.
Through the day, and through the dark,
O'er the land, and o'er the sea,
Speed the wheel, and steer the bark,
Bring us where we fain would be.

The verses which follow probably never appeared in print. They
were found, under date of November, 1833, in his own handwriting,
and were subsequently transcribed, in a letter to his father, with the
playful inquiry, " By what art do you think I have recovered the
following 1 " FROM THE ANTIQUE.
" Fons Crucis, Fons Lucia."
BY THE NAME OP CROSSE-WELLE.
Welle of the Crosse ! would I might be
In spirit, as in name, like thee,
Whose gentle flow from Calvarie's mount
Covers the nations like a sea ;
Drowns in its depths the Egerian fount,
And older wave of Castalie.
Welle of the Crosse ! would that my name
Were emblem of my being's aim,
Upon whose face, in tranquil rest,
The purest hues of heaven might glow,
And through its deep, transparent breast,
Fair truth be seen far down below.
Welle of the Crosse ! would that I might
Thy glorie with thy name unite :
That, cleansed by thee from every stain,
My soul might gladly count but loss
All worldly thought, all worldly gain,
To bear the burden of the Cross.
O, yes, for thee, Welle op the Crosse !
Fain would I count all gain but loss ;
For thee fain would I live and die,
Nor covet ease, nor toil decline,
So I all sin might crucify,
So I but conquer in that sign ! *
* "In hoc signo vinces." Constantine' 's Vision.

1833.] CHRIST CHURCH. 133
With a few brief extracts from his correspondence, the record
of the present year is concluded. In a letter, dated Sunday even
ing, January 6, he says, " I have just returned from a solemn oratorio
at the Handel and Haydn Society, where they have undertaken, for
the second time this season, to go through that wonderful perform
ance, The Messiah. Than the choruses nothing' can be finer.
The effect is not to be described to one who has never heard it.
I can only say that some strains equal all my conceptions of what
is worthy of the solemn and sublime sentiment of which they are
the vehicle. They still thrill in my ears ; and if I had the assurance
of good Dr.  , of  , I might catch something of his
rapture, when he exclaimed, ' That is such music as i" shall hear in
heaven.' Certainly, on this side of the grave, nothing can come
much nearer. This entertainment is only to be had on Sunday
evenings, when all the performers have no engagements elsewhere
to interfere. Otherwise I should prefer some other opportunity,
although I cannot but consider the services of the day as very
proper preparation in order to receive the full benefit of this reli
gious and sublime composition. I have come away with new ideas
of the power of music, and with new conceptions, I trust, of the
character of Him who has been the subject of it."
A letter of November 4, addressed to his father, is written in a
moralizing strain, and contains sentiments highly creditable as well
to his heart as his head ; but as the allusions are generally of a
private nature, only here and there a passage can be selected.
" Let us not attempt by our over-hastiness to forestall the divine
wisdom. Let us cheerfully resign every thing to his righteous dis
posal, who worketh in us both to will and to do. He that believeth
shall not make haste. If we pass through indignities and trials, we
know who hath forewarned us that these things must needs be. It
is our business to bear up under and profit by them ; ' for what
glory is it, if, when ye be buffeted for your faults, ye shall take it
patiently ? but if, when ye do well, and suffer for it, ye take it
patiently, this is acceptable with God. For even hereunto ye were
called,' &c. ... I did not intend to moralize over so much
of my sheet ; but I find it so necessary and refreshing to take this
view of the doctrine of the cross, in what cometh upon me daily,
that I find it the favorite remedy when called to administer to the
troubles of others. Has our religion, indeed, done its perfect work
upon our hearts, if we have any will of our own, or if we do not
cheerfully acquiesce in the will of God, which is signified in all the
dispensations of his providence ? Pureness, long-suffering, love and
faith unfeigned — these are the gold which is to be purified of baser
alloy in the fiery trial, and to be stamped as fitted even for the
Master's use."

134 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.

1834.

The extract with which the record of this year is commenced
brings to the mind of the biographer some exceedingly painful
reminiscences. How delightful the anticipation ! how distressing
the result ! It is dated on the day when the Rev. William L.
Keese commenced his regular services as associate rector of the
parish of Trinity Church, New Haven, to which office he had been
unanimously called. He had preached with entire acceptance in
the two churches which were then embraced in the cure ; and though
the day was extremely stormy and unpleasant, his ministry began
with the most flattering prospects ; and during the short period in
which he was permitted to continue his services, he secured the love
and esteem not only of the senior rector, but of the whole parish.
But the day of disappointment was near at hand. Before the year
had half expired, he began to sink under a disease which prostrated
his strength, unfitted him for duty, and finally brought him to an
early grave. " Boston, Sunday Evening, January 12, 1834.
" My dear Father : This has been rather an inauspicious day
for the commencement of brother Keese's labors at New Haven ;
but in our present state of being, we must be content to take the
evil with the good ; and it is well, perhaps, that we should not have
too much to exhilarate us at first. If physical ' cold ' was among
the trials of the apostle, the weather reminds us that we, who are
not apostles, must not expect to do better. Make my best and most
brotherly salutations to your new coadjutor, and assure him of my
prayers for an abundant blessing upon the relation which he this
day assumes. I need not tell you that I have had you both in my
thoughts ; and, next to those of heaven, they keep my spirit warm
within me, this severe weather."
It is pleasant to record the next extract from his correspondence,
January 19, as illustrative of the character and disposition of the
writer, though constrained to say, that the good offices thus tendered
and accepted were not destined to produce any very lasting effect. " I
have been doing, this last week, what, a year ago, I thouo-ht I never
could have done ; but it is because, I hope, I have twelve months'
more teaching in the school of Christ. The estrangement between
the rector of  Church and myself has, of late, been becom
ing daily a subject of remark and inquiry, and made detrimental to
the welfare of the Church. I determined that the fault should not
be mine, if we were not on such terms of ministerial courtesy as

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 135
to take from the adversary any argument to our disadvantage.
Without consulting with flesh and blood, therefore, I wrote to him
very kindly, requesting him to officiate at our church next Sunday
evening ; and he has answered as kindly in acceptance of the
invitation." But while thus endeavoring to cultivate a kindly spirit with his
clerical brother, he could by no means close his eyes against the
folly and absurdity, to apply no harsher terms, of the erratic course
pursued by that brother in the ministrations of his parish. Take,
for example, the following, under date of February 10 : "You have
seen the notice, which I marked in the Transcript, of a ' series of
lectures on the evidences of Christianity, to be delivered in 
Church, by four clergymen of as many different denominations.'
Shades of our fathers ! it was too true a bill. There was no mis
take. The series was commenced last night, the rector himself
reading prayers, and Winslow (Dr. Beecher's own successor in
situation and sentiment) delivered the Introductory. It is too late
to say, Tell it not in Gath ; for it was published beforehand in
all the streets of Askalon, and the sons and daughters of Philistia
have rejoiced in our shame. We are entirely dumbfounded and
taken by surprise, and open not our lips. It must, however, react.
It is as impolitic as it is unnecessary, dishonest, and unkind to his
brethren of the same name, who are thus indirectly reproached for
sectarianism, exclusiveness, and bigotry, and what not. One effect
must be, to hasten the removal of all who love the Church from
that . . . ; and another, to place the rector in a very disad
vantageous contrast with his associates, who are, Winslow, (Ortho
dox, so called,) Stow, (Baptist,) and Walker, (Unitarian !) the last
by far the ablest man, and one of the most thorough-paced support
ers of the sect. I repeat, therefore, that there must needs be a
recoil, and such a one as he is by no means in a state to sustain."
In a letter, dated some months later, this significant paragraph
occurs with regard to the singular policy of the same clergyman :
" Still another sign ! as the newspapers say. On my way to Cam
bridge, the other day, I picked up a number of the Boston Daily
Antimasonic Advocate, a week or two old. It contained a curious
account of the temperance anniversary held the previous evening at
 Church. The editor observed that Mr. Stow was not so
interesting as usual in the pulpit, (now Mr. Stow is a Baptist min
ister,) and that Mr. Mattheson, (the Presbyterian delegate from
England,) though very fervent, was rather too lengthy in his prayer.
You may see by this to what pass things have gone, and may judge
whether the force of latitudinarianism can be carried any further."
But to turn, for a moment, to a more agreeable topic. The fol
lowing is found in manuscript, under date of February 6. It has
probably never been published.

136 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
TO A FRIEND
WHO SENT ME A WATCH CASE AND THERMOMETER.
How much, O Time ! at every beat
My faithful watch has said
Of thine unseen yet quick retreat,
Thy never-ceasing tread !
And friends have given me, day by day,
A clearer power to see
How fast thy circles wear away
Into Eternity.
But howsoever times may range,
Let not this token be
A type of like mercurial change
Between my friends and me.
Howe'er the quickened silver mount,
Or shrink into the ball,
Be our dilated hearts unwont
To either rise or fall.

In his letter of March 3, he mentions his delivery of the Price
Lecture on " the Holy Catholic Church ; " and he adds, " For which,
on descending from the pulpit, I received, according to the will of
the late Mr. Price, two sovereigns, besides sundry compliments not
provided for by the testator. I am so little used to handling gold,
that I was obliged to inquire its value, (not so with the congratula
tory phrases.)" He also speaks in this letter of his having written
some poetry, a copy of which is subjoined. " My famous godson,
William Croswell Doane, entered upon his third year yesterday;
and as poet laureate to the heir apparent, I sent him his usual birth
day ode. The ' little brilliant,' I dare say, had rather have a sugar
plum, by half, than all the verses in the world." But be this as it
may, the bishop himself, he adds, " has been so much pleased with
them, that he has enclosed me a lock of the little fellow's bright
golden hair, which is the best piece of « unwritten poetry ' that 1
have had in a long time. What so beautiful as the sunny and
delicate ringlets of a child 1 "

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 137
TO MY GODSON,*
WILLIAM CROSWELL DOANE '. MARCH 2, 1834.
It seems, dear boy, but yesterday,
Since to the font we came,
A happy and delighted throng
To answer in thy name :
And I, thy father's chosen friend,
Joyed o'er thy father's son,
To hear the priestly blessing blend
Our allied names in one.
But ah, how cloud has followed cloud !
How many a thrilling scene
Of trial and of triumph crowd
The narrow space between !

* These lines were presented to the young clild on a subsequent birthday,
and being carefully preserved until he came to years of manhood, called forth
this grateful response, which was addressed to his godfather a few months
before his death : —
W. C. D. to W. C.
Full nineteen years of yesterdays
Have sought the silent grave,
Since, from the font, baptismal drop6
My infant brows did lave :
The drops that gave my father's name
With thine, for me to bear,
And made me, with the Cross's sign,
Christ's soldier, heaven's heir.
And many a time, his hand and thine,
With priestly power endowed,
Have given me grace, in part to do
What then, for me, you vowed ;
And many a time, both thou and he,
In bearing Jesus' cross,
Have taught me what the world counts gain,
For Christ, to be but loss.
And though, by Apostolic hands,
Those vows on me are laid,
Wliich by the consecrated font
Thy lips, for me, once said,
For silent prayers oft breathed for me,
And loving acts oft done,
Thou hast till death, my father's friend,
Love from my father's son.
Riverside, July 31, 1851.
18

138 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
And we are sundered far and wide,
Who framed in happier hour
The ties which time shall not divide,
Nor death shall overpower.
Let not thine eye to me be strange,
Whose smile has been so sweet,
And I can bear what other change
Awaits us ere we meet.
And sure the love which thus began
Must bind us to the end,
And never can thy father's son
Forget thy father's friend.

But from these delightful, and, as the event has proved, prophetic
strains, our attention is again called back to plaintive and melan
choly tones. He had been already apprised of the dangerous illness
of the Rev. Dr. Montgomery, of St. Stephen's Church, Philadel
phia ; and in his letter to his father, March 10, he says, " I believe
I told you that our most estimable brother, Dr. Montgomery, is
drawing near to his end with consumption. Death has indeed few
fitter victims, none more worthy to enter upon the reward of the
faithful ; but, humanly speaking, how premature it is ! " And after
citing a paragraph from a letter of Bishop Doane, he adds, " The
ravages of mortality among the clergy of our generation has indeed
been fearful, but it is, I trust, because God is making up his jewels ;
let your loins be therefore girded, and your lamps burning, and ye
yourselves as men who wait for the Master's coming." Dr. Mont
gomery died on the 16th of March ; and Bishop Doane imme
diately communicated the sad intelligence to his friend, with a full
and most affecting account of his last hours, and the triumphant
manner of his departure, concluding with this just and beautiful
testimony : " Never was the bed of death a preacher of righteous
ness more eloquent. Never were the peace and joy of the believer
more signally manifested than in him who now sleeps iu Jesus."
And to this testimony is added, iii a letter to his father, " Such an
example should not be confined to a corner, but is the property of
the whole church of God. 'Precious in the sight of the Lord is
the death of his saints;' much more should they be precious ii.
ours." That such an event should draw forth one of the happiest
effusions of his pen is not strange ; and it appears, by a subsequent
letter, that the following lines were sent to Bishop Doane, on the
receipt of his last letter. " They seemed," he says, " to arrange
themselves almost spontaneously, and have received little or no
correction."

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 139
My brother, I have read
Of holy men, in Christ who fell asleep,
For whom no bitter tears of woe were shed —
I could not weep !
And thou thyself art one,
0 man of loves, and truth without alloy !
The Master calleth, and thy work well done,
Enter thy joy !
To such as thee belong
The harmonies in which all heaven unite,
To share the " inexpressive nuptial song,"
And walk in white !
But O, thy Church ! thy home !
Thy widowed home ! — who shall forbid to grieve ?
How may they bear the desolating gloom
Such partings leave ?
Great Shepherd of the flock !
E'en Thou, whose life was given for the sheep,
Sustain them in the overwhelming shock,
And safely keep !

A few months later, but before the memory of this painful event
had been in the slightest degree effaced, while the strains of his
plaintive lute were still sounding in the ears and touching the hearts
of thousands, his sympathies were again awakened by the death of
another of his clerical brethren. On this, as on every other subject,
it is expedient, as far as practicable, to copy his own words, because
no other language could so thoroughly illustrate the devout spirit
which constituted the brightest trait in his character. Under date
of October 20, he says, " Of the many instances of mortality among
the clergy, which come to us with a solemn warning to be also
ready, there is one which circumstances have brought near to me
in a most affecting manner. I allude to our brother Blanchakd,
late of Annapolis, and last of Baltimore. He died after a short
confinement, and has entered, I am sure, upon the rest that remains
for the people of God. He was here on his annual visit to his
friends in August, and preached for me. He was in fine health and
the prime of hfe, and few, apparently, had a surer tenure on exist
ence. He spent several hours with me, and I was delighted with
his conversation and society; so mild was he, so gentle, and so
courteous, and yet so firm and decided. He was indeed a perfect

140 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
pattern of Christian ' conciliation without compromise ; ' and it was
impossible to know him and not to love him. I was much shocked
to hear of his death on Monday, with a message from his sister
(who resides here, and by whom he was almost idolized) to come and
comfort her. I did what I could ; but, alas ! how poor and una
vailing were mere human sympathy, if we could not ' rejoice for the
consolation ' of the divine teacher. This consolation the friends of
the deceased must be favored with in the most eminent degree, for
he was a good man, and the Holy Ghost was upon him. His life
was upright, and his end was peace. Let me die the death of the
righteous, and let my last end be Uke his."
A page or two must now be devoted to personal matters, for the
purpose of showing with what steadiness and uniformity he resisted,
up to that time, every inducement to draw him away from the post
of duty which he then occupied. By the death of Dr. Montgomery,
the rectorship of St. Stephen's Church, Philadelphia, had become
vacant ; and he was soon informed, by his friend Bishop Doane,
that his name, without his knowledge or consent, had been enrolled
among a number of candidates for the place, and that there was
evidently a preponderating influence in his favor among the leading
members of the parish. It was but natural that his friend, with his
characteristic kindness and affection, should urge him to look favor
ably upon a suggestion so apparently advantageous ; and he was
advised at least to accept an invitation to visit the parish, and
officiate for a Sunday or two in the church. Flattered as he may
have been by this proposal, he was nevertheless exceedingly morti
fied that his name had been thus brought into view; and he was so
impatient to express to his friend his utter aversion to any such
measure, that, without even consulting his father, which he seldom
omitted to do on any important question, he promptly replied ; and
the substance of his reply is thus given : " I instantly issued my
'solemn protest,' and entreated my excellent friend Doane, by the
love he bore me, to have my name withdrawn without loss of time;
that I felt injured in my own estimation by the use that had been
made of it ; that I was content to abide as I was, and to die even
here within these walls ; and that if I ever felt that I was thwarting
my destiny by a city life, it was when I dreamed of some quiet
little nook, fast by a river side, where my days might pass away as
smoothly as the gentle stream ; that I had never, and would never,
because conscientiously I could not, voluntarily place myself in the
attitude of a seeker for any change, and least of all such a change
as he contemplated ; that were I to receive a unanimous call from
St. Stephen's to-morrow, I should think it misdirected, and feel it
my duty to decline."
Having already made arrangements for visiting Burlington, he

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 141
did not feel, after this plain and unequivocal avowal, any delicacy
in carrying out these arrangements. Accordingly, he prepared to
commence his journey on the 6th of May, but was detained for a
day or two by a violent storm. In the mean time, he states to his
father that he had received a letter from his friend Doane, disavow
ing any undue ofliciousness in suffering his name to come before the
people of St. Stephen's, telling him, however, at the same time,
with accustomed plainness, that his " fastidiousness was whimsical
and absurd in the last degree." And " so," he adds, " the baseless
fabric of that vision is dissolved, much to my mind, and to the relief
of many minds here." He pursued his journey to New York, Bur
lington, and Philadelphia, and returned by the way of New Haven,
where he spent several days, and, in consequence of the illness of
the Rev. Mr. Reese, was persuaded to supply the pulpits of the two
churches in alternation with his father. He finally returned to
Boston on the 31st of May, having, according to his own account,
had a most delightful excursion. His first letter after his return,
June 2, is full of thanksgiving and praise. " Laus Deo ! Praise
the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me praise his holy name.
To conclude as I began, I trust I have a grateful sense
of His mercy, who has thus far kept me under the care of his good
providence, and conducted me in safety to the end of my journey,
and sliall endeavor to manifest it by more singleness of desire to
live to his glory."
June 9, he speaks of having heard, from his friend Doane, that
his parish at Burlington had provided the means for employing an
assistant. " Of course," he adds, " of all the world he would prefer
me. But no : I have one answer for that and all other applications
at present. My hour is not yet come. When the clock which I
am set to wind up here runs down, and it is all over, I shall flee
to some other city. But I cannot conscientiously go yet. I think
better days will come, and that speedily. Whether or not, I trust
I shall have patience given me to wait and see." In another part
of this letter, he alludes with much sadness to the impaired health
of Mr. Keese : "I am sorry for the cloud that seems destined to
darken the brightness of your prospects. Try, however, to relieve
your mind of too much anxiety for the future. Hitherto hath the
Lord wonderfully helped you, and he will yet mercifully provide. I
trust Mr. Reese's health will be restored, and that the relations so
pleasantly begun will yet be continued for many a year."
One event took place this summer, which is here alluded to, not
because it is necessarily connected with the subject of these memoirs,
but because attempts were very unjustly made, in certain quarters,
at the time, to involve him in some censure with regard to the
scandalous transaction. This event was the wilful burning of the

142 MEMOIR. OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
nunnery, or Ursuline Convent, on Mount Benedict, in Charlestown,
on the evening of the 11th of August. It is first noted in his diary,
August 12 : " Papers filled with accounts of the abominable out
rages of the evening previous, in the destruction of the Ursuline
Convent, at Charlestown, by fire." And in a letter of the same
date, he says, " I open my letter to state that the nunnery at Charles
town, of which I have told you something, was destroyed last night
by a regularly-organized mob, the interior being entirely consumed
by fire, and the walls only standing. The superior, nuns, and board
ers were allowed one hour only to transport themselves to places
of safety. I fear it will be but the beginning of sorrows, the Irish
population being so numerous, and their feelings so much exasper
ated. I know all the particulars from an authentic source, and
will give them at another opportunity." These particulars were
subsequently transmitted to his father, in the shape of authentic
documents, under an injunction that they be returned immediately
after perusal. They threw but little light, however, on the causes
of the outrage. But the public feeling had probably been somewhat
prepared to tolerate almost any species of violence by the exagger
ated reports of the iniquities practised in the convent. A Miss
Reed, an inmate of the institution, had contrived to escape from
what she considered an irksome bondage, and had made representa
tions, the sincerity of which was never doubted, and which were
of course extremely grating to Protestant ears. But Miss Reed
never manifested any mischievous spirit. She quietly sought the
counsel of the rector of Christ Church, and carefully avoided saying
any thing that might excite public indignation. Injudicious and
designing persons, however, took up the theme, and, by gross ex
aggeration and exciting appeals to the worst passions of man, no
doubt brought about the disgraceful event. Miss Reed, in the mean
time, embraced the Protestant faith, became a member, and died in
the communion of the Protestant Episcopal Church.* The outrage
* Miss Reed died on the 28th of February, 1838 ; and it is but simple jus
tice to record the following authentic testimony of the manner in which she
closed her eventful life. It is transcribed from a letter of March 5, in that
year. " You have doubtless noticed in the papers the death of Miss Reed,
formerly of the Ursuline community. She has been fading away with con
sumption for the last year. I was not aware of her situation till about two
months since, and frequently visited her. Her mind was much weakened by
disease, but her faith was clear and her hope bright. She was indeed anxious
to depart before her time came, and longed for death as a merciful release from
a life of perturbation. I felt it my duty, under the solemnities of approaching
death and judgment, to question her concerning the truth of her printed state
ment respecting the convent ; and she assured me, with deep feeling, that it
was, to the best of her knowledge, a faithful record ; that she did not pretend
that she had not been liable to error, but that she had not intentionally mis
represented a single circumstance. I did not need this declaration for my own
satisfaction, for I never doubted her design to tell the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, with regard to her connection with the place, but thought it
might hereafter be important, in order to put gainsayers to silence. Li the

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 143
came near to producing the most fearful result. The excitement
among the Irish Roman Catholic population in Boston was tremen
dous, and revenge and retaliation were openly threatened by immense
gatherings of these exasperated people. It required indeed all the
energy and address of their bishop and resident priests to restrain
the tumult, and persuade their followers to leave to the public
authorities to punish the transgressors, and indemnify the sufferers
for their loss. In dismissing the subject, it is but proper to say, that
the offenders were never punished, nor the loss of property ever
made up to the Romish Church. Mount Benedict, on which the
building stood, remains naked and bare, and covered only with
ruins, to tell a tale of reproach which a great and enlightened com
monwealth should be impatient to bear.
In taking up again the golden thread which runs through the
whole texture of his being, it is but natural to recur, with undis
guised satisfaction, to the flattering manner in which some of his
earlier devotional poetry was brought, in a substantial form, before
the public, blended, too, with a name as familiar as it is dear to the
Christian world. He alludes to the subject in a letter of March 10,
when, speaking of his friend Bishop Doane, he says, " He is getting
out an edition of Reble's ' Christian Year,' and talks of gather
ing some of my favorite pieces in an appendix, ' that he may send
us down to posterity together.' The Lord knows I have no poetical
ambition ; and I wish I had no other, unless, indeed, to help build
up the purity and bliss of His Ringdom before I die." In due time
the volume appeared, inscribed to the young poet in these kind and
affectionate terms : —
" To mt next Friend and more than Brother, the Rev. William
Croswell, Rector op Christ Church, Boston, these pious Breathings
op a kindred spirit are most affectionately inscribed. g. w. d.
" St. Mary's Parsonage, Burlington, May 27, 1834."
Instead, however, of gathering these selected pieces in an appen
dix, they were mingled- in their appropriate places, with the explan
atory notes, illustrations, and additions with which the work was
enriched. The first selection, a "Hymn for Advent," was intro
duced by this highly complimentary note : " The lines which follow
obituary notice, in some of the papers, I was sorry to see the matter alluded to
in any way, and especially in such unhappy phraseology. It would seem to a
stranger as if the communion was administered to her as a sort of sacramental
test or oath, whereas it was on a -separate occasion, and some time previous. I
should deprecate any revival of the pubhc agitation with regard to her, and
hope her ashes will be allowed to rest in quiet. She evinced great sweetness
and purity of character during her whole sickness, and her last hours were
very edifying. Her departure was easy and full of peace. I attended her
funeral at East Cambridge, on Friday."

144 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
are from the pen of the beloved friend to whom this volume is
inscribed. Its pages will afford other evidence of the justice with
which his name has been associated with the honored name of
Reble, as 'a kindred spirit.' Were he aware of the designed
association, his gentle and retiring nature would, I know, forbid it.
But one who, for nine years, was with him almost daily, and shared
his secret thoughts, must claim to know him better than he knows
himself; and he does not fear that Reble will not welcome the
companionship." The other selections were " Christmas Eve,"
"Martyrdom of Stephen," " Epiphany," "De Profundis," "Clouds,"
and " The Ordinal." After the work had passed through the press,
he writes, " Bishop Doane's edition of Reble is printed, but not
published. I fear almost to see it. My own rhymes will appear
very slim, I fear, in the contrast." In a letter of a later date, he
says, " I have some copies of Reble's ' Christian Year,' presenta
tion gifts from the editor. Your son's name occurs in it more fre
quently than his modesty can approve." Writing, at the same time,
to his friend, Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, Mass., he says, " My
gratification at the republication of Reble would have been as entire
and unmingled as yours, were my own name less conspicuously
connected with it, and none of my rhymes brought into so disad
vantageous contrast. I am still so unsophisticated and unpractised
in the arts of able authors, that I must blush at such undeserved
praise. Of the productions of the editor's own pen, it gives me
delight to join in the most unqualified commendation."
The following pieces are drawn from various sources. They
were probably written the present year, but in some few cases are
without date. The subjoined impromptu was doubtless called forth
by an excursion which he made to Nahant, August 11 ; and those
who have ever visited that famous summer resort will at once
acknowledge the perfect correctness of the sketch.
NAHANT.
Rocks, sands, and seas,
What charms hast thou but these,
O desolate Nahant !
Rocks, sands, and seas,
Twelve grotesque cottages,
And six storm-beaten trees,
Struck all aslant !
But this is but an episode among more grave and solemn strains.
The following are transcribed in the order in which they are found
in his own manuscript collections.

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 145

FOX'S BOOK OF MARTYRS.*
I well remember, from my earliest age,
How, with a yearning heart, I loved to look,
Old Chronicler, upon thy pictured page,
That lent a glory to thy Martyrs' Book ;
And as I saw the patient sufferers there,
Like the three children in the furnace flame,
Without a smell of fire, unsinged their hair,
From year to year unaltered and the same,
I thought that even martyrdom was light,
And counted them as happy who endured
A fire no fiercer than it seemed to sight,
Of God's good will eternally secured !
Thus do we look on sufferings yet untried,
Which man can only bear, when Heaven is on his side !
September, 1834.

AFRICA.
Princes shall come from Egypt, and
The path of life be trod
By myriads, when the Morian's land
Shall stretch her hand to God ;
Then Cush, and Ophir, and the sea
No idle gifts shall bring,
But soul and body both shall be
Their grateful offering.
The Ethiop may not change his skin,
Nor leopard change his spot ;
But God can work a change within,
Though man observeth not.
A holier dawn shall chase the night,
And darkness pass away,
And these shall also " walk in white,"
In Heaven's eternal day.
October, 1834.
* See Fuller's Mixed Contemplations, xxi. p. 92.
19

146 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.

BAPTISMAL HYMN.*
Let the infant soldier now
With the hallowed cross be signed ;
Bind the frontlet on his brow
Time and death cannot unbind !
Words of earnest faith and prayer,
Drops of consecrated dew,
They can work a wonder there
Earth's enchantments never knew.
Happy mother ! sealed and blessed,
To your arms your treasure take,
With the Savior's mark impressed,
Nurse it for the Savior's sake.
So the holy work begin,
Ever doing, never done,
Till, redeemed from all our sin,
Heaven's eternal crown be won.

SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN.
The sparrow finds a home,
The little bird a nest ;
Deep in thy dwellings, Lord, they come,
And fold their wings to rest.
And shall we be afraid
Our little ones to bring
Within thine ancient, altar's shade,
And underneath thy wing !
There, guard them as thine eye,
There, keep them without spot,
That when the Spoiler passeth by,
Destruction touch them not
There, nerve their souls with might,
There, nurse them with thy love,
There, plume them for their final flight
To blessedness above.
* The reader should be apprised that this Hymn is not strictly original in
thought and sentiment, though the versification is all his own. It may be
considered as rather a paraphrase of two stanzas of Keble's " Holy Baptism "

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 147

TO

Fair child ! thou fillest mine eye with tears,
For thou carriest back my mind
To the sinless days which the flight of years
Has left so far behind :
And I search my shrinking self to know
How the spirit, so darkened now,
Can be purged of its manhood's guilt and woe,
And be pure once more as thou.
Again, thou carriest on my thought
To the vision of things before,
When the last great battle with sin is fought,
And the struggle of death is o'er ;
For in vain our Heaven we hope to see,
And our Savior undefiled,
Till we learn his lesson of such as thee,
And become like a little child !

Among the remaining incidents of this year, there are few that
require any full or special notice. He made an excursion home
wards, leaving Boston August 24, and, after stopping for two or three
days at Brooklyn and Norwich, arrived at New Haven on the 28th.
He expected to have met his brother Sherman, that they might
enjoy their visit together ; but in this he was disappointed, for
Sherman did not arrive until the moment when he was taking his
seat for his return to Boston, on the 5th of September. He arrived
at Boston on the 6th, and on the following day, Sunday, he says,
" I officiated twice, besides administering the communion, and
baptizing four children, and do not feel any uncommon degree of
lassitude." Speaking incidentally of the accommodation stages, in
contrast with those of the steamboat line, he remarks, " I have
never, I am sure, so fully realized the force of what moralists have
written against the stage, and its dangerous and corrupting influences,
as I did when dragging through the mud at three miles per hour,
when the rain made the night as dark as Egypt, and the proprietors
could not afford lights, crowded in with nine passengers, some of
whom would infect a whole community, and all curtained down, to
make them the more redolent. O, it has a dreadful effect upon the
temper." He proceeds to speak of a subject in which he felt deeply
interested : " They have set to work to repair the old church in real
earnest. The steeple is invested with scaffolding, and the cellar of
the new vestry almost excavated. The business is going on with

148 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
great spirit in both parts, and will soon be completed. Think of
our weathercock weighing one hundred and sixteen pounds, and
more than six feet long — not so light a matter as weathercocks
generally are supposed to be ! " On the 12th he notes in his diary,
" Wrote something to put in the ball of the steeple, arranged in the
shape of a cross." Of this composition no copy can be found.
In his diary of November 3, and his letter of the same date, he
speaks of the sickness of his friend Doane, and of his expectation
of an immediate summons to attend him ; and the information
received the following day induced him to proceed without delay.
He left Boston for Burlington by way of Providence ; and his next
letter is dated at Burlington, November 7, and gives a particular
account of the severe attack by which the bishop's strength was
prostrated. He was now, however, convalescent, with every pros
pect of a speedy and complete recovery. " To-day," he says,
" being, I believe, my thirtieth birthday, and a glorious day indeed
for the season, he has walked out with me, for the first time,
besides taking a ride of an hour in the carriage of one of his excel
lent neighbors." Before he closes this letter, he adds, " Notwith
standing the illness of the bishop, he managed to write me a tender
and affectionate sonnet on my thirtieth birthday, in a little pres
entation volume of Coleridge's poetry." It is here transcribed, as
exceedingly creditable to both parties.

"PERENNIS ET FRAGRANS."
William, my brother and my bosom friend !
For thrice ten years the sun, this blessed day,
Has lighted thee along life's checkered way,
Serene and placid towards thy journey's end.
One third the distance we have trod together,
Hand grasping hand, and heart enclosed in heart,
Each of the other's life, breath, being, part,
Breasting as one time's rough and rugged leather.
Poet and Priest, as in thy face I look,
So full of thought, so tranquil, so benign,
With pride of soul to hail thee friend of mine,
I greet thee with the legend of this book : —
" Fragrant and lasting " be thy memory here,
And then a fadeless crown through heaven's immortal year !
G. W. D.

He was compelled, while on this mission of love and sympathy,
to pass by New Haven, and return to his duties. After apologizing

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 149
for this omission, he details some interesting particulars touching
his domestic and parochial relations, and thus closes a letter of
November 23 : " My feet have stood in the courts of the Lord's
house thrice this day, and thrice have I opened my mouth between
the porch and the altar, none having ministered for me in the order
of toy course. I am fresh, as if I had had nothing to do." On
the week following he details the same amount of services ; and
then, again, on the 9th of December, he writes, " I had rather a
severe draught upon my capabilities on Sunday. After preparing
and preaching a funeral sermon during the week, my three services
and both sacraments came near to exhausting me. My strength,
however, was sufficient, by the grace of God, and not only held out,
•but left me much less weak and weary to-day than I could have
anticipated. I shall be as moderate as I can, and reserve my
remaining force, when I most expect to need it, for Christmas and
the accompanying festivals. ... I rejoice greatly in the ac
counts of your prosperity. May it be ever so. And whether all
things be ordered according to our wishes, the Lord give us grace
to possess our souls in submission to his gracious will. My own
affairs continue to be promising, and I am most grateful that the
interests committed to me have not apparently suffered in my hands.
I trust it will ever be the first desire of my heart, that I may be able
to answer with a good conscience for the awful account of souls,
and render that account with joy, and not with grief. Pray for me,
even as I also do for you."
In a subsequent letter, after speaking in terms of high commen
dation of a neat little periodical, issued by Bishop Doane, entitled
The Missionary, he intimates his own intentions with regard to the
future productions of his pen : " In the department of sacred poe
try, I shall lay myself out more than I have done. I am frequently
applied to by my friends to make a collection of my verses, but
have no ambition to court criticism, or stir up the malicious tribe
of rival geniuses to speak all manner of evil against me falsely. I
should like, however, to have them preserved in the family, and shall
be obliged to you to insert in the volumes which were sent to you
any occasional effusion which you know to be mine. I keep a
record of all which I have written recently, which I will bring with
me on my next visit, and complete your edition."
It is to be regretted that these collections and records have not
been found as full and complete as could have been desired. From
various sources, however, may be gathered nearly all that will be
necessary to satisfy his friends. A few more selections will fill up
the record for the present year.
The following lines were sent to his mother, near the close of the
year, accompanied by a note demonstrating his truly filial affection

150 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
and veneration : " I trust these lines will not be unacceptable, as a
token that you are in the multitude of my best thoughts and prayers
and feelings. I only wish you were there to as much purpose as I
know I am in yours. I have not stopped to consider whether they
are good poetry ; but I know that the sentiment is true, and that
assurance will be worth more to you than any thing else."

TO MY MOTHER.
My mother ! many a burning word
Would not sufHce the love to tell
With which my inmost soul is stirred,
As thoughts of thee my bosom swell :
But better I should ill express
The passion thus, than leave untold
The glow of filial tenderness
Which never in my heart grows cold.
Oft, as I muse o'er all the wrong,
The silent grief, the secret pain,
My froward youth has caused, I long
To live my childhood o'er again ;
And yet they were not all in vain,
The lessons which thy love then taught ;
Nor always has it dormant lain,
The fire from thy example caught.
And now, as feelings all divine
With deepest power my spirit touch,
I feel as if some prayer of thine,
My mother ! were availing much.
And thus availing, more and more,
O, be it thine, in bliss, to see
The hopes with which thy heart runs o'er,
In fondest hour, fulfilled in me !

It was at the close of this year that he commenced a series of
Hymns, which he styles the " Horology, or Dial of Prayer,"
with the following general caption and appropriate motto : 

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH 151

HYMNS OF THE ANCIENT TIME.

14 No man, having drunk old wine, Btrtughtway desireth new ; for he saith, The old is better."

HOROLOGY, OR DIAL OF PRAYER.

Thou who hast put the times and seasons in thine own power. Acts i. 7.
Grant that we may pray unto thee in a fit and acceptable time. Psalm l_x. 13.

O Savior ! I would spend the hours
Canonical with Thee,
As tolls the clock from yonder towers
At nine, and twelve, and three ;
At primes, and lauds, and matin bell,
And compline, rise and pray,
And tell my blessed rosary
At the decline of day.
At vespers, and at nocturns late,
When suns have ceased to shine,
On my devotion's dial plate
Still shed thy hght divine ;
And as the holy vigil yields
In turn to holy dream,
O, let my Savior be through all
My glory and my theme.

I.
MIDNIGHT HYMN.
" At midnight I will rise to give thankB unto thee." King David.
" And at midnight, Paul and Silas prayed, and sang praises unto Godt and
the prisoners heard them." Acts of the Holy Apostles.
Thy praises, Lord, at midnight broke
Through chambers where a monarch woke ;
Thy midnight praise, with choral swell,
Rang through the chained Apostles' cell ;
Alike to thee each place was made,
In palace or in prison laid ;
The royal pomps, the grated door,
The captive and the conqueror.

So grant us, Lord, a song of power
To charm away the midnight hour ;

152 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
In prosperous state be ours to sing
In spirit with the Minstrel King ;
And cheer us, when our hopes are dim,
As with thy servants' dungeon hymn ;
And when our watch, like theirs, is done,
May worlds, without a night, be won.

H.
COCK CROWING.
" And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew | and the Lord turned
and looked upon Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he
had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And
Peter went out and wept bitterly." * QospeL
The Eye that softened as it smote,
While crew the cock, with mighty spell,
Far through the maddening crowd remote,
Upon his shrinking servant fell ;
Then woke the guilty shame within,
And conscience, which so long had slept ;
And He alone who knew the sin,
Could know how bitterly he wept.
If, Master, we thy cause betray,
Oft as the cock repeats its call,
Turn not thy piercing eye away
Till we are conscious of our fall.
Like Peter, let us weep alone
In sorrow, secret as sincere,
Till Thou, to whom our griefs are known,
Shalt dry the penitential tear !

HI.
NOONDAY.
" Now Jacob's well was thore : Jesus, therefore, being wearied with hie jour
ney, sat thus on the well, and it was about the sixth hour." t Qospel.
O Thou, who, in the languid noon,
By Sychar's well, didst open wide
» " It appears, from a passage of the Talmud, that domestic fowls were nq
tolerated in Jerusalem ; and admitting its authority to be indisputable, it wil
not be difficult to reconcile this fact with the record of the Evangelists. Fo|
as the palace of Caiaphas was at no great distance from the suburbs, the crow'
ing of a cock without the walls might be clearly heard in the stillness of the
evening. Unusual as it may have been, the scream of an eagle would not have
more startled the ear of the apostate Apostle." Middleton, Greek Article, p. 143.
\ In the time of our Savior, the day was divided into twelve hours, equal to

1834.] CHRIST CHURCH. 153
To wondering eyes a better boon
Than e'er their fathers' fount supplied ;
Up, where thy brightest glories burn,
Our fainting souls, at every stage,
For thy celestial succor turn,
In this, our weary pilgrimage !
When, from the sun's meridian glow,
We seek refreshment and repose,
Do Thou thy heavenly gifts bestow,
And all the stores of life unclose ;
Thence, quench the fervid spirit's thirst,
Thence, fill us as with angel's food,
Till, day by day, our souls are nursed
For their divine beatitude !

IV.
ANOTHER FOE NOONDAT.
"Peter went up upon thc house top to pray, about the sixth hour; and he
became very hungry, and would have eaten ; hut while they made ready, he
fell into a trance, and saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending unto
him, as it had been a great sheet, knit at the four corners, and let down to the
earth." Acts of the Apostles.
Though on the house top, Lord, unseen,
How oft, at noon, I fain would rise,
Where nought of earth could come between
My lifted spirit and the skies !
But short the conquest over sense ;
On rapture's wing though high we soar,
Too soon the fleshly influence
Resumes its reign, and dreams are o'er.
Yet still the Church, let down to earth,
Without a trance, 'tis ours to see,
Where, cleansed from stain of mortal birth,
In Jesus' blood we all may be.
There may the soul its work complete,
And with the hosts of men forgiven,
Enveloped in that mighty sheet,
Be safely taken up to Heaven.
each other, but unequal with respect to the different seasons of the year. The
sixth, of course, was at all times answerable to noon.
20

154 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1834.
V.
NINTH HOTJK, THREE O'CLOCK, P. M.
TIME OP DAILY EVENING SERVICE.
" Now Peter and John went up together into the temple at the hour of prayer,
being the ninth hour ; and a certain man, lame from his mother's womb, was
carried, whom they laid daily at thc gate of the temple which is called Beau
tiful, to ask alms of them that entered into the temple." Acts ofthe Apostles.
How dear to those on God who wait,
The paths which to his dwelling lead !
And every Christian temple gate,
Is it not Beautiful indeed ?
For there our holiest joys unfold,
And trains of lovelier graces fill
These lowly courts, than when of old
His sole abode was Zion's Hill.
0, as thou enterest in, be sure
To try the spirit of thy mind ;
Ask if its love to God be pure,
And true its love to humankind.
Bring Faith, and Hope ; and be Thou nigh,
The best and greatest of the three,
Binding in one delightful tie
All heaven and earth, sweet Charity !
VI.
EVENTIDE.
" And Isaac went out to meditate in tho field at the eventide ; and he lilted
np his eyes, and saw, and behold, thc camels were coming."
Beneath the shade of pensive eve,
By Heaven impelled, the patriarch's mind
Could wander from itself, and leave
The grovelling cares of life behind.
Led by the same almighty love,
When all below is dark and dull,
We still may rise to scenes above,
Where all is bright and beautiful.
Our souls may go aB Isaac went,
And find, each eve, a lovelier field
Than e'en the gorgeous Orient
To his enraptured sense could yield.

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 155
And while, in meditation sweet,
We seem to breathe a heavenlier air,
All that we most desire to meet
Shall bless our longing vision there.

1835.

The record of this year will be drawn chiefly from his corre
spondence, and, with few exceptions, from his letters to his father,
with occasional references to his daily journal. These extracts
must necessarily be brief, and may often seem desultory and dis
jointed, from the constant intervention of private and familiar allu
sions, which are not suitable for transcribing. No more is selected
than may be properly introduced for the purpose of developing the
abiding and prevailing sentiments of his mind, and the leading traits
of his character.
In the first letter of the year, January 5, after speaking of the
extreme severity of the winter, he says, " I have every thing to
make me warm and comfortable, and am healthy and hearty ; but
this cold weather stupefies and benumbs my intellect, and I cannot
get on well with my headwork. I do not rise very early ; but I
am up till midnight, and do the best I can to keep up with the time
of day. I am growing less and less in love with our northern win
ters, though they have never harmed me, and I have a perpetual
summer in my chamber, where the anthracite is always in a glow."
But here, amid these expressions of self-content, his thoughts are
instantly called to the suffering poor, among whom he took his daily
rounds, and to whose comfort and sustenance he was constantly
ministering ; and he proceeds : " But then one cannot always keep
in his chamber, or in his own house ; and if he suffers as he ought
with those whose sufferings he sees, his mind and thoughts are filled
with dismal imagery.'' To show that he was not unfavorably
affected by his duties, he adds, " Three services, and a wedding,
were all that I had for my share yesterday ; and I felt, after I had
finished, as if I was fresh and ready for as many more."
But there is another portion of this letter which may be alluded
to as furnishing a keynote to a series of transactions, which, how
ever annoying a. d vexatious to the rector of Christ Church, served,
at the same time, to call out the latent energies of his mind, and to
show the firmness and decision with which he ever stood ready to
repel any temptation to a departure from what he considered the

156 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
line of conscientious and religious duty. After remarking pleasantly
that " all the rest of the week was a kind of a monotone," he pro
ceeds, " We have a rapturous tune, however, in prospect, to be rung
from all the chords — wrung, I should have said — and the great
musician at  Church is to lead the choir, and all the charac
ters in Collins's Ode on the Passions are to administer at turns.
To come out from the obscure and figurative, tlie Convocation
assemble at brother  -'s church for divine services and sermons
Wednesday, Thursday, aud Friday. This is not, perhaps, so
strange ; but it is a truth, and one stranger than fiction, that I am
most graciously invited to attend. Gramercy for your goodness,
gentle sirs ! I have not concluded what order I shall take ; whether
to let the invitation go by default, or to give the why and the where
fore. It is of very little consequence which. After the marked
exclusion from the company for more than eighteen months, the
burden rests with them to explain the reason of this change. J am
unaltered and the same, and, by the grace of God, will so remain ;
for, in truth, I should consult my inclination as little as my self-
respect in uniting witli their assembly. If I say any thing to them,
it will be in the spirit of Johnson to Chesterfield : ' The notice
which you have been pleased to take of me, had it been early, had
been kind. But it has been delayed, till I am indifferent, and can
not enjoy it ; till I am solitary, and cannot impart it ; till I am
known, and do not want it.'" Such an answer, as appears from a
subsequent letter, was drawn up; but on reflection, he felt reluctant
to repel, by an unkind rebuke, an act of seeming civility ; and after
consulting some of his clerical friends, who had also now been
invited for the first time to attend the meeting, it was concluded to
accept the invitation. Accordingly, he says, " We made our appear
ance on the first evening. The following day found me there also,
and at evening again I was not missing. After services, Mr. 
approached me, said the Convocation had brought a certain enter
prise to a certain point, and would like to have Dr. W. and myself
meet, and consult with them, the next morning. Determined not
to fail in receiving any distinct overture, and make myself thereby
obnoxious to the charge of separating myself from these pious men,
I agreed accordingly. We found them next day in solemn con
clave. Their specimen number [of a periodical, to be called the
Christian Witness] was all ready to be issued ; and Mr. 
asked our concurrence and countenance. The doctor and I said,
in general, that any periodical which went to set forth the Gospel
in the Church would have our patronage and approbation, from
whatever quarter it issued. But I was careful to add, that whether
the course which had been pursued was such as was calculated to
conciliate the confidence of the whole body of our clergy, they were

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 157
as competent to decide as ourselves. And here the subject was
about to be left ; and if it had, the result would have been most
unhappy ; the object obviously being to force the thing upon us,
and stop our mouths afterwards with the pretence that an opportu
nity had been afforded us of expressing our opinion, and that the
project had received our assent. At this juncture, I set fire to a
train, which produced an instantaneous explosion, by asking Mr.
 if he had not given me to understand that my exclusion
from the Convocation was not the result of accident, but design.
The battle being thus opened, the fire was hot and heavy ; and the
fear of man passed away in an instant, and I boldly withstood them
to the face. I doubt whether they ever heard the truth more plainly
spoken ; and I was happy to find the doctor sustaining me manfully
in every position. . . . After delivering our message, we shook
off the dust from our feet, and departed." With the exception of
an occasional remark, nothing more is said during the year, either
in his diary or letters, of the Christian Witness. It was considered
as the organ of a party or clique known as the "Convocation,'' and
never secured the confidence of the whole body of the clergy, either
in or out of the diocese.
In a letter of January 19, after touching in a pleasant manner
upon various topics, he thus recurs, in his habitual spirit of humility
and devotion, to the approaching anniversary of his ordination :
" Next Sunday, St. Paul's day, is the anniversary, as you are aware,
of my being set apart to the work of the ministry, six years ago ;
an interval that seems like a dream, like a tale that is told, but full
ofthe momentous items upon which stands our account for eternity.
I would renew the dedication of myself, soul, body, and spirit, to
this service, and endeavor, in the coming hours that may yet be
granted me, more faithfully to redeem the time, and labor to perfect
holiness. Let me have the benefit of your especial prayer on the
noon of that day, and let our spirits meet before the throne of
grace in my behalf. ... I cannot close till I have congratu
lated you on the favorable circumstances and great encouragements
with which your labors continue to be blessed. The meridian of
your usefulness is not yet passed, as I hope, nor your sun on the
decline. May it grow more and more golden towards its set, and
so give promise of the glorious dawn to-morrow." This extract is
given as a suitable introduction to the following beautiful stanzas,
written in Christ Church, on St. Paul's day, at noon, and sent to
the Missionary, for publication.

158 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.

ST. PAUL'S DAY.
" At midday, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, above the bright
ness of the sun, shining round about me and them which journeyed with me.
Whereupon, O King Agrippa, I was not disobedient unto the heavenly vision."
How swift the years have come and gone, since, on this blessed day,
A victim at the altar's horn, I gave myself away ;
And streaming through the house of God a glory seemed to shine,
Invisible to other eyes, but manifest to mine.
It was not in his terrors clad, nor with those tokens dire,
The rushing of the whirlwind's wing, the earthquake, and the fire,
Nor yet amid the blasting blaze that makes the sunshine dim,
And pales the ineffectual beams that minister to Him.
Serene was that effulgent noon, and gladdening was the ray,
Which made a heavenly vision there I could not disobey ;
And gentle those subduing tones which soothed and tempered all,
As with the holy harmony of voices still and small.
O father, mother, brethren, "friends, no less than brethren dear!"
Who promised, at this solemn hour, to be in spirit near,
Say, is it not your influence in blended prayer I feel,
As now before the mercy seat from many shrines we kneel ?
I would my heart might ever thus dissolve with fervent heat,
As here, "fast by the oracle," the service I repeat;
That even in my inmost soul the same rejoicing light
Might hum, like Zion's altar flame, unquenchable and bright

From the following extract, under date of January 26, it is
evident that the notoriety which he had already attained, as a writer
of poetry, was not of his own seeking. But it would be worse than
affectation to say that he was not pleased with the flattering commen
dations which he received from time to time, and especially when they
came from unexpected quarters. He had more than once, as is well
known, resolved to throw aside his lyre, and stifle his passion for
verse. But every new stimulus again kindled up the poetic flame,
and it was never wholly extinguished, but continued to burn brightly
to the end of his days. The Missionary, after its establishment in
New Jersey, became, by the earnest solicitations of his friend the
bishop, the general medium of his communications. " If I am vain
of any of my gifts, I did not intend that any body should know it,
and have tried to subdue the influence of all my weaknesses by
prayer and supplication. I am, however, sorely tempted to think

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 159
more highly of myself than I ought to think, when, for instance, I
receive from Athenian missionaries, in the heart of the land of
classic song, a letter with such a passage as this : ' Why is it that
I no longer see the effusions from your pen in such of the religious
periodicals as occasionally reach us 1 Have you abandoned your
lyre, to devote yourself more entirely to the duties of the pulpit 1
I think that you possess so much of the poetic vein, that you may
safely indulge in it from time to time, without its interfering with
more serious and sacred duties. Nay, when the subjects are appro
priate, — as yours were wont to be, — you may thus at once both
aid and grace the cause of our blessed Redeemer. Our language
is not yet rich in the songs of Zion. Even in Germany, where the
language has been for a much shorter time cultivated than that in
which Milton and Cowper sang, they can exhibit a much larger col
lection of sacred poesy than ourselves, qualified to stand the test
of candid criticism. I have lately seen an octavo volume of Hymns,
of five or six hundred pages, in German, selected by the present
Prussian ambassador at Rome, a pious man, who exerts himself for
the cause of the gospel. I hope to see poetry enlisted as an able
auxiliary in the diffusion of religious feeling in our favored coun
try ; and I feel that you possess a talent of this description which
ought not to be neglected. Let me give you a theme, which may
aid even our missions here : the renovation qf the ancient Church qf
Greece. It will indeed be a blessed and glorious day when she shall
resume her pristine beauty and purity. She will once more become
a means of diffusing light, the light of gospel truth, to nations now
sitting in the valley of the shadow of death. She would be admi
rably qualified to convey the humbling and purifying lessons of
the gospel to the proud and sensual Mahometan, and to gain victo
ries over her old tyrant, bloodless indeed, but far more to her praise
than any which her sons have hitherto achieved,' &c. This is more
than I expected or deserved from any quarter, and least of all from
our missionary in Greece. I have long had my mind upon the very
topic to which he alludes ; and a letter of Fenelon, written while he
contemplated a mission himself to those parts, which I was reading
a few days since, fired me with enthusiasm to set about it."
His letters of the month of February partake of the general
character of all his correspondence. Like other studious men, he
had his alternations of elevated and depressed spirits, and these were
transfused into his familiar communications with his friends. In the
same letter, he would speak with grateful animation of the amazing
amount of labor which he had been enabled, by the help of God,
to accomplish, and then turn despondingly to the frequent recur
rence of headache and vertigo, which but too often followed his
exertions. His letters, as well as many of his sermons, and much

160 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
of his poetry, were written chiefly at night and very early in the
morning, while his days were consumed with calls at home, in
visits among his parishioners, — especially the sick, needy, and
afflicted, — and with responses to the constant invitations of hospi
tality and kindness. Reflecting upon these multifarious demands
upon his time and his bodily and mental powers, it is not strange
that he should sometimes feel as if his burden were greater than
he could sustain. And, at such times, it is not surprising that
he should sometimes feelingly adopt the sentiment of his favorite
poet. "I long more and more," he says, "for some snug retire
ment, where from the loopholes of retreat I may peep at the world,
see the great Babel, and not feel its stir." And, with the devout
and contemplative habits of his mind, it might be expected that few
letters would pass from his hands without some serious reflections.
For example, such sentiments as these are constantly recurring.
Speaking of the death of a young lady whom he had known when
a child, and with whose family he had been intimately associated,
he says, "The going out of the lights of that pleasant household,
one after another, is among the associations which throw a melan
choly shadow over the scenes of my earlier years. When I count
up the names of those of our own family connections and familiar
friends, who, though ' not dead,' are ' gone before,' it seems as if
the majority, with whom I commenced the career of life, are
already on the other side of the grave. May I make a profita
ble use of the solemn consideration, and so number my own days
that remain that I may apply my heart unto wisdom." He pro
ceeds to speak thus, in a strain of filial confidence : " I often think
that I can well remember when you were but a few years older
than I am now, and when I looked up to you as a man of many
days, and what an infinite interval it seemed in prospect before I
should arrive at the same age. But our years are brought to an
end, like a tale that is told ; and I look back with astonishment and
wonder at this period, upon all that is past ; so much of life elapsed
like a dream, and so little accomplished. Time has not brought
with it the maturity of mind upon which I had reckoned ; and
though a man in years, I am still a boy at heart. This, however,
is doubtless as it should be. Whatever advances we may make
intellectually, in other respects, such as disposition, dependence, and
docility, we cannot safely allow one particle of our childlike traits
of character to wear off and be outgrown, for ' of such is the king
dom of heaven.' Here is comfort, when perhaps I might otherwise
have reproached myself with weakness." But while such senti
ments are transcribed, the impression ought not to be conveyed
that he was fond of cherishing sad and gloomy thoughts. He was
among the most cheerful of men ; and he was capable of turning
away from the most melancholy musings to a style of vivacity

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 161
sufficient to show that his bosom was a fountain of sweet serenity
and joy, and that he could at all times, by his genial playfulness,
light up a smile upon the face of his correspondents and associates.
On the very page where he could melt the heart by the tenderest
allusions, he could speak with unaffected modesty of a " silly Valen
tine," which he had sent for publication in the Albany Argus. Of
the Valentine itself the reader must judge whether he has not him
self spoken too lightly. VALENTINE.
Again the " fated hours " have come,
As holy legends tell,
When Valentine in martyrdom
A blessed victim fell ;
And doubt thou not, one wish of thine,
O gentle maid ! would make,
This day, thy chosen Valentine,
A martyr for thy sake.
By ice and snow though severed wide,
Nought else, O maiden true !
Of cold or distance shall divide
Between myself and you ;
Though many a bond in sunder parts,
Snapped by this frosty weather,
It shall but keep two loving hearts
Still closer bound together. W.
St. Valentine's Eve, February 13, 1835.

There is an anecdote connected with the publication of this Val
entine in the Albany Argus, which afforded some amusement at the
time, and which need not be suppressed. A lady, or one affecting
the handwriting of a lady, imputing the authorship to a gallant
bachelor in the State legislature, whose initial was W., and who was
known to have some genius for versemaking, addressed to him, on
the succeeding day, the following response : —

A VALENTINE FOR "W."
Saint Valentine's glorious death
Had, doubtless, its struggles and pains,
Yet who would not give up her breath,
To live evermore in your strains ?
21

162 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
Sweet bard ! may the gods keep your vows,
Nor coldness nor distance long trouble you ;
But O, should you sigh for a spouse,
Ten thousand would hasten to " W."
Then why o'er the snow banks go wooing,
In strains little less than divine,
When, near you, your muse is subduing
The heart of a true Valentine ?
The following lines were addressed to the Rev. Dr. Thomas W.
Coit, on occasion of his election to the presidency of Transylvania
University, Kentucky.

TO THE REV. DR. COIT.
With hope and courage unrepressed,
Go, follow where the orb of day
And Empire's Star, both tending west,
Have pointed out thy brightening way ;
And from our dwellings by the sea
Beyond the mountain barriers bear
The bonds which sacred sympathy
Hath sanctified by many a prayer.
And when thy steps are safely led
By mighty marge of rivers wide,
Which, like an earth-born giant, spread *
Their thirsty arms on every side,
O, let their waters, as they glide
Resistless on, thine emblem be —
A stream of many thousand tides
Against the Truth's great enemy. W. C.
March 1, 1835.

On the 3d of March he had a severe attack of sickness, and
was compelled, after an ineffectual attempt to throw oft" the disease
by simple remedies, to call in the aid of a physician. He passed
through the usual treatment, and was so far relieved within a short
time as to be able again to resume the pen, and convey to his father

' And Trent, like an earth-born giant, spreads
His thirsty arms along th' indented meads."
Milton, Vacation E.cercise.

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 163
a daily bulletin of his condition. Tliese brief notes are fair expo
nents ofthe remarkable buoyancy of his spirits, and of his cheerful
ness and contentment, under the hand of providential chastisement.
In his letter of March 8, he says, " As I have never concealed any
thing from you with regard to my health, so I will not do so now."
After describing the nature of the attack, and its treatment, he
adds, " It has left me rather weak, though I am entirely free from
all disease, and perform almost every function but that of eating
and writing, with regard to wliich I am obliged to keep Lent very
strictly, and practise almost total abstinence. I do not say these
things to alarm, but to account for my brevity. I beg you will not
give yourselves any uneasiness on account of it. I expect to be
about, out of doors, in a day or two, and shall take the first oppor
tunity of setting my face homeward. . . . You shall have a
bulletin from me daily, keeping you informed of the true state of
the case." Accordingly, on the day following, affecting the usual
style of such despatches, and speaking in the third person, he gives
assurances of his improvement, and gratefully acknowledges the
kindness and attention, not only of his excellent hostess, but also
of the "troops of friends" by whom he was surrounded, and who
were assiduous in their efforts to minister to his comfort. He
hopes, by the help of God, to give a still more favorable report the
next day, and speaks of his mind as "full and alive with all manner
of ideas and imagery, like a quiver full of arrows ; but," he says,
he " has not yet quite strength to draw the bow that shall send
them.'' On the 10th, after speaking pleasantly of the parting call
of his physician, of his continued improvement, and especially of
the enjoyment drawn from his books, he adds, "As a thankoffering
to Him who has raised me from the threatenings of disease, I have
subscribed a hundred dollars for the Seabury professorship, [in the
College, now Trinity, at Hartford.] I have drawn, as usual, upon
the Bank of Faith, and trust, that, by self-denial and frugality on my
part, it will not fail me. Such expenditures as this have never yet
impoverished me, but have been attended with a literal and liberal
recompense, in some way upon wliich I had not counted. As done
with an eye to the glory of God, I hope it will not perish among
the works burnt up." He thus closes his daily reports ; and his
next letter is dated on Sunday evening, March 15, in which he says,
" The fine weather of the last two or three' days has helped me
along exceedingly. Yesterday I rode out, for the first time, in a
close carriage, as far as Roxbury. To-day I felt so far restored to
health of body, vigor of mind, and cheerfulness of spirit, that I was
able to go to the house of God, to offer him an oblation with great
gladness, and to bless his holy name for all his goodness towards
me, through Jesus Christ our Savior."
There are in his correspondence, at this period, several allusions

164 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
to a probable change of his pastoral relations. In one of his let
ters, written during his sickness, he expresses his intention, after his
recovery, of consulting the wardens of his church on the expediency
of resigning his charge at Easter, " simply," he says, " because I
think somebody else would do better here, and I should do better
somewhere else." Within a few days, however, he wrote to this
effect : " My friends have shown me marvellous great kindness
during my illness, and I shall find it harder than ever to separate
the bond which binds us together." Subsequently he writes, " I
have not had much conversation on the subject of my resignation.
I mentioned it to my junior warden ; but he begged me to defer its
consideration till I had quite recovered, and desired me to say noth
ing to his coadjutor unless my mind was unalterably made up."
¦After this, the subject appears to have been dropped for a time ;
and as his proposed journey homeward was deferred, principally on
account of the unsettled state of the weather, he began gradually
to resume his public services. On the first Sunday of April, he was
able to administer the communion in the morning, and to preach
in the afternoon, besides performing some other official duties.
In a letter of the 4th of May, after congratulating his father on
the pleasant and harmonious settlement of an assistant, which had
been effected in his parish at New Haven, he proceeds : " Every
thing connected with our parish looks very promisingly at present,
and I hope the whole diocese will soon wear a more cheerful aspect.
The bishop has called us together on Wednesday, to see if any thing
can be proposed to enlarge the Convocation, so as to include us
all, and promote a better understanding. We shall be inclined to
go a great way for the sake of peace ; and if our propositions are
well received, there will be no difficulty. Most of the members of
the Convocation would regard such a union favorably." On the
11th he gives an account of this meeting, a portion of which is
transcribed as a perfectly satisfactory vindication of his own posi
tion. "Preliminary to it," he says, "the bishop called us together,
— all, without exception, though but few answered the summons, —
to see if any thing could be done to promote harmony. A com
mittee was chosen to report measures ; I was one ; and we had
half an hour to report in. I told them that consistency left me but
one course to pursue, but that I would oppose no obstacle to any
proposition which united the majority.'' After a few sharp passages
between the different members of the committee, which it is unne
cessary to detail, it was proposed to report, that, " if the bishop was
desirous that his clergy should unite in the Convocation, and would
distinctly express his desires, it should be made a ground of rec
ommendation to each of them to join the Convocation, if he consci
entiously could. The report was accepted. The next day we were
admitted to the business meetings, and heard the constitution and

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 165
by-laws read. Drs.  and  saw their way clear to
give in their adhesion ; but I declined. My objections are such as
have always operated so strongly on my mind — its exclusiveness,
its interference by its missionary plans with the episcopal preroga
tives, and placing the interests of the Church at the mercy of a
presbytery, the tithe of salary whicli it levies upon every member,
and the irregularities which it countenances, if it does not enforce.
Many of the most exceptionable features will doubtless undergo
considerable modification, and such men as my two most excellent
friends will exert a wholesome and salutary influence upon the
majority of the members. ... I hope the experiment may
be happy for all parties concerned. I have no objection to meet
the brethren, at convenient seasons, even though with some of them
I can have no sympathy or kindredness of feeling."
May 20, having made arrangements for an absence of a month
from Ms cure, he proceeded by railroad and stage to Hartford. He
arrived at the house of his friend Dr. Sumner in the evening, and
gladly accepted his hospitalities until the 22d, when he passed on to
New Haven. The following extract of a letter, addressed to his
esteemed friends at Hartford on this occasion, serves to show with
what chastened feelings he revisited the scenes of his childhood :
" New Haven never looked so charmingly to my unpractised eye ;
but it is peopled by such an altered population, so many of the old
familiar faces have vanished, persons and places have so changed,
and I find the names of so large a proportion of the companions
of my childhood and youth on the stones in the burial ground, that
I revisit and review its scenes with a kind of melancholy and pain
ful interest ; a sort of homesick feeling comes over me, and I realize
that we have indeed here no continuing city, that we are strangers
and pilgrims on earth. How happy for us, that, like the patriarch
in a strange country, we can, by faith, look forward to a city that
hath foundations, whose builder and maker is God ! "
Though exempted for a short space from the cares of his own
parish, he found but little respite from his labors, during this visit.
He participated in the services at Trinity Church and St. Paul's
Chapel on the first Sunday after his arrival ; and, on the following
Sunday, he preached three times in the church at North Haven, being
assisted in the services by the incumbent, his highly-valued friend and
brother, the Rev. C. W. Bradley. He had been in daily expectation
of the arrival of his brother Sherman from Albany ; but this was
unfortunately delayed until the 4th of June, only two days before
his engagements compelled him to leave for New York. From this
point he addressed a letter to his father, giving a pleasant account
of his passage, of his travelling companions, and of his further pro
ceedings. " Mine host of the Atlantic," he says, " gave me, at sight,
the freedom of the house, and, at my request, sent me into the

166 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL [1835.
identical dormitory which Sherman had occupied. I found his
mirror waiting for him on the stove, but do not see his face in it,
though I have looked several times." The day after his arrival,
being Whitsunday, he attended service, and joined in celebrating the
holy communion at old Trinity, (for it was before the rebuilding of
this edifice;) a church, he says, which "may be styled by so many
of us, like Jerusalem of old, the mother of us all. It is a solemn
and impressive place of worship, and I enjoyed the services very
much." In tbe afternoon he attended the services at St. Thomas's
Church. " According to his annual practice, Dr. Hawks had a
great christening. It was a most interesting spectacle, and reminded
me more of St. Peter and the three thousand, on the day of Pente
cost, than any thing I have ever seen. There were upwards of
ninety iu all, most of them old enough to be ranged in two rows
round the chancel, and to receive the sacrament, without being taken
into the arms. Some twelve were infants.''
On Monday, June 8, he proceeded by boat to Burlington, where,
with the exception of two days spent in Philadelphia, he enjoyed
the welcome and delightful hospitalities of the rectory at Riverside,
and the daily morning and evening services of the church. On
Trinity Sunday he participated in three services, preaching in St.
Mary's Church, Burlington, morning and evening, and at Mount
Holly in the afternoon. On Monday, the 15th, he returned to New
York, and wrote to his father stating his plans for the remainder of
the week. His first letter after his return, Monday, June 22, shows
how far this plan was carried out : " I changed one part of my plan
once more, after I got to Pittsfield, in accommodation to circum
stances, and found myself here on Saturday, by a route which remind
ed me of the title of the oft-read article of Johnson's in the English
Reader, ' Schemes of life often illusory.' The ride from Hudson
carried us through such a charming and magnificent scenery as quite
reconciled me to the stage coach. All our company, with a single
exception, by a singular coincidence, happened to be Bostonians,
who had casually met, for the first time since leaving home, on
board the steamboat. . . . The glory of Lebanon was laid
open before us, as we proceeded, and a surpassing glory it was.
From the heights in the neighborhood of the hotel at the mineral
springs, we could, like Moses, view the landscape o'er, and see that
goodly mountain and Lebanon. From the top of the richly-wooded
barrier which separates, as it were, Massachusetts from New York,
you command a lovely prospect of the land between, even to the
Catskills, whose summit, at the distance of forty miles, seem to be
within an easy ride of half an hour." He reached Pittsfield about
eight, and repaired at once to the church, where he heard a sermon
from the Rev. Dr. Milnor. " The Convention," he says, " was
fully attended; and the exercises connected with it, as far as I

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 167
observed, were regular and interesting. . . . Most inconsist
ently,  introduced a resolution recommending the Witness
in the most unqualified terms, and  , still stranger to say,
seconded it ; and, most wonderful of all, I was the only man that
dared to vote in the negative. Some infatuation surely blinds us at
times, we know not how ; for truer hearted men than these, I am
sure, there are not. Hospitality was practised on a most liberal
scale at Pittsfield, and we all left much delighted. A party of us
set out at five o'clock on Friday morning, passed through North
ampton, and arrived here, via railroad, at ten on Saturday morning.
I preached thrice yesterday, and baptized. I find the church in
complete order, and a beautiful sight to see."
With the exception of one or two strokes of pleasantry, nothing
is found to extract from his correspondence of July ; and even these
cannot be transcribed without an apology, inasmuch as he himself
stigmatizes them as " flummery." July 6, he writes, " I perceive,
by the Herald, that somebody in New Haven is pretending to con
flagrate Moscow in jest, and seems likely to set your little town on
fire in real earnest. However imposing it may be, you may rest
assured that the genuine imposition is here. Moscow is burnt every
night at Concert Hall; and though thousands have thronged to see
the great sight, still it is not consumed. Maelzel himself is the
incendiary, and the only one that is allowed to go at large, without
being tried for his life, and is well paid for the business besides."
He authorizes his brother to send this to the paper, as an " extract
from a letter," provided always that he can get any one to take the
responsibility. " A burnt child," he says, " dreads the fire, and
I do not care to be considered as an inditer of inflammatory
paragraphs." In another letter, speaking of some writer who had maliciously
styled Episcopalians " nothingarians," he retorts, that the poor
slanderer ought to have known that the Church is indeed " nothing-
Arian." But the occasions for the indulgence of this playful humor were
only the little flickerings of sunlight amid the impending clouds of
thick darkness. His feelings were always open to the alternations
of grief and gladness, as, in the allotments of Providence, they
were severally brought to bear on his sensitive heart ; and while it
was his delight to rejoice with the joyful, he was equally ready to
mingle his tears and sympathies with those who wept. Another
month had scarcely begun, before he was called to a trial, the pe
culiar severity of which his own letters attest. Tuesday, August 4,
he writes to his father, " Accept a brief line to-day, wliich ought to
have been sent you yesterday, just to assure you that I am well,
though in deep affliction. We were bereaved, on Sunday night, of
our junior warden, (Frederick Clark,) an inestimable young man,

168 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
and a worthy son of a worthy father; and our parish is all sunk in
sorrow. We have every consolation which is afforded by the con
sideration, that the deceased was a humble and exemplary disciple
of Jesus, and died the death of a righteous man. I was with him
much during his illness ; and being called to bestow such services
as might best afford comfort to his wife and sisters in their over
whelming distress, and to minister at the funeral, which took place
yesterday, you will not wonder that my hands and heart are full,
and will readily excuse my neglect of this sacred duty of writing.
I will write to you again, at my first leisure, at greater length.
Meanwhile, pray for me, that this dispensation may be sanctified to
us, and that we may bow in acquiescence to the divine dealings,
however inscrutable."
August 5. " I was quite unnerved and unmanned by the melan
choly scenes through which I have of late been called to pass, when
I wrote you last. I have since become composed and calm, and am
refreshed and recruited by nature's best restorative, sleep, and by
such supports, I trust, as can be obtained only from a heavenly
source. Mr. Clark's sudden and untimely death is a great blow
to me. He was, in truth, my right-hand man, my ' fidus Achates,'
and I feel, as rector of the church, as if shorn of half my strength.
His loss to his poor wife and sisters is beyond expression ; but they
have been too thoroughly disciplined in the school of adversity, to
be otherwise than submissive and resigned. They know that the
judgments of the Lord are right, and that of very faithfulness he
has caused them to be troubled. May He, who chastens us for our
profit, make us also partakers of His holiness ; and though it seem
eth not to be joyous, but grievous, may it yield the peaceable fruits
of righteousness to them who are exercised thereby." He expresses
in this letter his strong desire and hope of being able to go to the
General Convention, which was soon to meet in Philadelphia ; and
after detailing the great amount and variety of duties, which, on
Sunday, immediately preceded his attendance on the death bed of
Mr. Clark, and giving some further particulars of his last hours,
he concludes : " Excuse me for dwelling so much ou this topic. It
is uppermost in my mind, and should be. Otherwise it cannot be
improved. May it be as profitably, as it is deeply, felt by us all. I
know you will remember me at those times when remembrance is
of most avail, at your seasons of prayer. Be assured that I con
tinue to enjoy very good health, and that you shall not be deceived
in this respect for a moment. I was indisposed, as might be ex
pected, but not seriously, on Monday, but have had time to recover
myself, and feel as well, though not quite as strong, to-day, as
usual." August 6. "According to promise, I send you another line
to-day, though I have nothing in particular to add to the communi-

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 169
cations which have preceded it. I do so the more cheerfully, how
ever, as my mind has begun to resume its wonted composure, and
I am also quite recruited in bodily strength. I hope the tenor of
my other letters has not been calculated to disturb or agitate you ;
that they have not excited the very apprehensions which they were
intended to allay. I trust this will be sufficient to put them to rest,
if such be the case ; and if my foreknowledge was as decided as
my wishes, I should not lose an opportunity of convincing you of
their groundlessness, by exhibiting myself in person before you take
your departure for the General Convention. I entertain strong
hopes that I shall be able to accompany you, but do not like to hold
out any expectation that I may not fulfil. As the time draws nearer,
I can tell better. Our afflicted friends, of whom I spoke, are as
comfortable as can be expected ; and the parish, and city also, what
ever rumors there may be to the contrary, continue very healthy.
No new cases of the fever, to which Mr. Clark and several of the
neighboring merchants fell victims, have since occurred."
In his next communication, Monday, August 10, he says, " I
now feel quite like myself again, and with less of weariness than
usually falls to my lot on Monday. I reserved myself as much
as I could from excitement during the week, but was obliged to
prepare resolutions of condolence in connection with my funeral
sermon. I accomplished both, however, and got through very com
fortably and composedly, being able to command myself better than
usual on such occasions."
On the following Thursday, August 13, he writes that he had
made up his mind, Providence permitting, to proceed to New York
in the ensuing week, to meet his father, and accompany him to the
General Convention.
Agreeably to this arrangement, he left Boston on Monday the
17th, and proceeded, by the way of Providence, New York, and
Burlington, to Philadelphia. As he had restricted himself to a short
absence from his parish, he made the most of his time, which was
chiefly spent in Philadelphia, affording him an opportunity to attend
the sittings of the General Convention, the meetings of the Mis
sionary Society, and many of the public services of the Chinch,
besides holding much pleasant intercourse with his brethren and
friends, and visiting most of the places of public interest. Some
two or three days, however, including Sunday, were passed at Bur
lington, where he divided the services of the day with his father.
On Friday he started on his homeward journey, taking the same
route by which he had come, and arrived at Boston, in time to
resume his duties in his own church, on Sunday the 30th, officiating
in three entire services. On the following Tuesday, September 1,
he wrote to his mother, apologizing for passing by New Haven on
this occasion, and promising, after a few weeks, to repay the neglect
22

170 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
" with interest." " I obtained leave of absence," he says, " only for
a single Sunday ; and my parish were counting on my return with
as much certainty as that of the Lord's day. My character, as a
man to be depended upon, was therefore at stake ; and by redeem
ing it so satisfactorily, I shall be the bolder to treat resolution
whenever occasion requires." He speaks in grateful terms of the
enjoyment which the excursion had afforded him, and of the satis
factory state of things on his return. But he seems to apprehend
that some change may be necessary, in his domestic, as well as his
pastoral relations ; and he again thus feelingly recurs to the recent
severe affliction in his parish : " In the death of Mr. Clark, a pillar
has been struck down, on which I chiefly leaned ; and it breaks one
of the strongest ties which bind me to the parish."
In his next letter to his father, September 7, he thus rejoices over
the new missionary organization, which took its date from this ses
sion of the General Convention : " The conclusion of the whole
matter, at the General Convention, was indeed worthy of its com
mencement ; and I regret that I was not present at a consummation
so devoutly to be wished. The Lord hath done great things for
us, whereof we are glad. The Church being the Missionary Soci
ety, by the admission and universal consent of all parties ; mission
ary bishops being practicable on her part ; the inference is conclusive,
that they become due from her to her scattered population. Nothing
seems to me to be in more strict accordance with the spirit of our
Master's injunctions and the principles of apostolic order. It carries
us back in association to the time when Paul and Barnabas were
specially separated by the Holy Ghost for the work whereunto He
had called them."
The first missionary bishop, appointed and consecrated under this
new movement of the General Convention, was the Rev. Jackson
Kemper, D. D., then rector of St. Paul's Church, Norwalk, Connect
icut. The consecration was to take place at an early day, and Dr.
Kemper was very desirous of seeing the vacancy in his parish supplied
before his removal. His attention had already been drawn to the
rector of Christ Church, and he had received communications from
Bishops Brownell and Doane, as well as his father and other friends,
expressing a favorable opinion of his qualifications. As a prelimi
nary step, therefore, Dr. Kemper invited him to spend a Sunday, the
27th of September, in the parish. But this invitation he felt com
pelled to decline ; and, writing to his father, September 19, he says,
" I should not like to accept it, even if there were nothing to prevent
me but my unwillingness to appear there, or in any other parish, as
a candidate. I am perfectly willing to receive an invitation from
Norwalk, or any where else ; but I have not sought it, and am b}'~
no means certain that I should be disposed to accept it. I have
never been there, and am ignorant of the strength of its claims to

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 171
consideration, except, indeed, what ought to weigh much with me,
its vicinity to you. I will not, of course, prejudge it, but should be
somewhat surprised if I found things altogether according to my
taste. As to quiet and retirement, I have found that the larger the
city, the more retired and secluded from observation you may be.
I have become, indeed, so used to my unpretending old
parish, that it is perfectly easy to me, and I begin to think I shall
never find just such another. They take so kindly to me, and put
up with all my shortcomings, how can I think of leaving them 1 It
is my first love, and, with all its faults, it will be as good as I
deserve, if it should be my last. ... In writing to Dr. Kem
per, do not commit me at all with regard to officiating at any future
Sunday. I have, perhaps, too much fastidiousness about this ; but,
next to fortune hunting, I dislike parish bunting. I will try to
respoct myself, whether or not respected by others."
But only two days after the date of this letter, his sensitive heart
dictates the language of apology : " I fear," he says, " I have given
you cause to upbraid me with thwarting all the plans which my
friends project for my advancement, and counteracting, instead of
cooperating with, your efforts to promote my best interests. I know
that no help can be expected for those who will not help themselves.
Rest assured, my dear father, that I do most highly appreciate your
excellent views and intentions in this matter, and am grateful for
any and all things that you have done and may do. And if I do not
respond so cordially as you wish, do not suppose that it is simply
because, like Nym's, it is my humor, but for good and substantial
reasons, as I may be able to convince you when we meet.
My people love me, and we are assimilated together. The vows
of institution are sacred, and I could not expect the blessing of
Heaven upon the breach of them. Many of the most eminent
saints have been content with much more humble and irksome
spheres of duty than has been allotted to me, in the kind providence
of God ; and I, who am none, have surely no right to complain. Do
not, therefore, blame me for what may seem to you unreasonable,
until you have heard me at length."
His next letter, September 28, announces the receipt of a formal
invitation to the rectorship of the church in Norwalk, and furnishes
a copy of the official call, and his prompt answer in the negative.
He gives many good and satisfactory reasons for this course, adding,
among other things, " I am at present rector of an ancient and
respectable parish, in one of our most flourishing and delightful
cities. ... I have one of the most reverend and delightful
old churches to be found in this country, a people attached to me,
and entirely satisfied with my ministrations, and with every prospect
of increasing and permanent usefulness. Why should I relinquish
this comfortable certainty for the uncomfortable uncertainties of a

172 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1835.
place I know nothing about, and a people to whom I am a perfect
stranger ? ... I do not transfer my affections readily or
hastily. I am not fond of rupturing old ties for the sake of form
ing new ones ; and, over and above all, I take so much real delight
in dwelling among the busy haunts of men, even though I mingle
with them ever so little, that the idea of rusticating myself in the
country, any where, is repulsive and revolting to me."
Having thus disposed of a matter which had evidently caused
him not a little anxiety, he next began to indulge the pleasing-
anticipation of meeting his brother Sherman, in a visit to their old
paternal home at New Haven. After some unavoidable delay, this
was finally accomplished, in the latter part of October. In the
mean time, he had an opportunity to attend a meeting of the Con
vention of the Eastern Diocese at Portsmouth, and was called to
officiate as secretary. The attendance was small, and the business
unimportant. The excursion began pleasantly, and he was pleased
with every thing he saw at Portsmouth ; but he returned in a cold,
uncomfortable storm, and retained no very favorable impression of
the jaunt.
In a subsequent letter, October 12, he administers a well-merited,
though good-natured, stricture upon a practice, which, if unknown
to others, will doubtless be well understood by the alumni of Yale
College : " The committee of our class have sent each member a
copy of a printed circular, anatomizing us all. What a vexation
it is to have been to college, when it gives to the gossiping spirit
of your accidental associates, not chosen ones, the right to expose
to each other your private and domestic affairs — chronicle the
events of your life ; who has been hung and who married ; who is
in lock and limbo, and wedlock besides; who has committed for
gery, and who matrimony ! I am glad to find that they have so
few enormities' of either kind to lay to our charge, that we have
neither crimes nor children to answer for. I should like to know
how they prove my title to authorship ; but this is their lookout,
not mine, and is quite as satisfactory, on the whole, as being made
responsible for the paternity of 'two or three boys.' When the
class meet again, I hope they will pray more, and print less ; and
I desire to record my wish, that none of them may be permitted to
write my epitaph."
He left Boston, on his projected visit, on the 21st of October,
and reached New Haven on the following evening. His brother
Sherman did not arrive until the 28th. They had, therefore, but
two days to spend together at New Haven, before he was obliged
to return to his post in Boston ; Sherman, however, not to be dis
appointed of his visit, concluded to accompany him, and they both
proceeded to Boston on Saturday the 31st. Here they spent t-en
days, the most happy they had enjoyed together since they had left

1835.] CHRIST CHURCH. 173
the scenes of their childhood. But as the visit was drawing to a
close, he seemed to apprehend, that, after so much delightful inter
course, he might feel more than ever the loneliness of his situation.
Within a few days, however, he writes as follows : " I should have
been more cast down by his departure, if I had had time to dwell
upon it ; but I have been so much taken up with my accustomed
round of duties since he disappeared, that I am hardly able to
realize that he is actually gone."
The following entry in his diary bears date at about the same
time, and may have been made under the influence of the despond
ency of the moment. But perhaps not. It is no evidence of an
unwonted emotion, but may rather be considered as the habitual
breathing of a devout and humble spirit. It is written on the last
page of a journal, embracing the record of a single year. " It has
been a year fruitful in incidents, of joy and of sorrow, and has
called many of the strongest emotions of my nature into exercise.
It has brought with it some severe tests of Christian character ; and
I have deeply felt, when weighed in the balance of the sanctuary,
how greatly I have been found wanting. My progress in the divine
hfe has not been such as to answer the lowest expectations which
I had formed, much less in proportion to my advantages. If thou,
Lord, shouldst be extreme to mark what I have done amiss, O
Lord, who could abide 1 My only hope is in his mercy, through
Christ. May He be daily more and more my sanctification, as He
is my redemption. To Him I renewedly devote myself, and to His
service, soul, body, and spirit, with all thejr powers and faculties.
May He fill my memory with the words of His law, enlighten my
understanding with the illumination of the Holy Ghost, and may
all the wishes and desires of my will centre in what He has com
manded." But amid these prevailing characteristics of his mind, he is found
ever ready to turn from grave to gay, as circumstances led to the
change. On the opening page of his next journal, speaking of
putting his papers in order, he says, " Remembering Curran's say
ing to Grattan, that he would have been the greatest man of the
age if he had used more red tape, I bought a dozen pieces."
The following anecdote soon follows : While returning from
Charlestown, one evening, being detained on the bridge by the
opening of the draw, "I was accosted," he says, "by .an 'ancient
mariner,' who shipmated me to his heart's content, and, while the
draw was up, and we were waiting, moralized on the obstacles that
were met with on our daily walk. Told him he was a shrewd
fellow. He thought I said slewed, which was quite as true ; but he
took it in good part."
The following lines are found in his manuscript collection, under
date of December 28, and have never, so far as we can learn,
appeared in print : —

174 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
TO A LADY,
WITH A SPKIG OP MYRTLE.
O, those were happy times, I think,
When symbolizing leaves
Conveyed, instead of pen and ink, •
The thoughts that love conceives.
No soiling, then, of dainty skin :
Besides, the token sweet
From each obtruding gaze kept in
The mystery complete.
Mere words are all too rude and rough ;
Nor can the tongue reveal,
In terms half delicate enough,
What raptured spirits feel.
But worlds of tender sentiment
In one green spire may lie,
And kindred hearts know more is meant
Than meets the stranger's eye.

The following is supposed to have been written on the meeting
of the General Convention in 1835, and is found in the September
number of the Missionary, published at Burlington.

THE MEETING OF THE TRIBES.
" For thither the tribes go up."
The tribes have gone up, not in battle array,
But to keep on God's mountain their festival day ;
The tribes have gone up with their banners displayed,
In peace o'er the thousands who meet in their shade.
From the east, from the west, from the south, from the north,
From Dan to Beersheba, their powers have come forth ;
From the wide-spreading valleys their ancients are seen,
And the dwellers on Lebanon's mountains so green.
And, Judah, thy lordliest Lion is there,
Unharmed, from the glorious depths of his lair ;
For the archers have fiercely shot at him in vain,
And he sh ikes ofl" their darts, like the dew, from his mane.

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 175
In gladness the chosen of Levi pour out,
And the feeblest starts up at the summons devout ;
Nor will one of the twelve in their borders abide,
From the ship-covered coast to the Great River's side.
May the dew which, like Hermon's, distils from above.
Sink deep in all hearts, and inspire them with love ;
And the grace on the head of the aged high priest
Flow down on the greatest, and reach to the least
The spirit of peace to their counsels restore,
O God ! and let Ephraim vex Judah no more ;
The spirit of might and of wisdom impart,
Nor let Reuben's divisions cause searching of heart.
So the least of all seeds shall become a great tree,
And shall spread from the mountains its boughs to the sea,
Till all the wide land with its shelter is blest,
From the dawning of day to the uttermost west.

It is doubtful whether the following has ever appeared in print.
It is found in his manuscript collections, and was probably written
during the present year.

PICTURE OF PALESTINE.

THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN.

" Several travellers, and, among others, Troilo and D' Arvieux, assert that
they remarked fragments of walls and palaces in thc Dead Sea. This state
ment seems to be confirmed by MJaundrell and Father Nahan. The ancients
speak more positively on this subject : Josephus, who employs a poetic
expression, says that he perceived on the banks of the lake the shades of
the overwhelmed cities. Strabo gives a circumference of sixty stadia to the
ruins of Sodom, which are mentioned also by Tacitus. I know not whether
they still exist; but as the lake rises and falls at certain seasonB, it is possi
ble that it may alternately cover and expose the skeletons of the reprobate
cities." Chateaubriand.

I wandered by the Dead Sea brink, in dreaming hour, to gaze
Upon the awful monuments and wrecks of ancient days,
If haply yet its rocky isles might alter on my eyes,
And, like some arch enchanter's pile, in gramarye arise ;
If yet the clustering bitumen its rude resemblance bore
To pomps that here had glorified the younger world before,
And peering still above the tide, if summits might be seen,
Magnificent, like Baly's towers, in sunlight and sea green.

176 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. fl836.
A mournful sight it was, I ween, that sea, from shore to shore
Unruffled by one venturous wing, unbroken by an oar ;
The air above, the earth around, the desolate expanse
Beneath my feet were all alike without inhabitants ;
And, nearest like to living thing, the evening wind was loud,
And Jordan, as its raving streams' contested passage crowd,
And suffocating bursts of smoke that poisons all the air,
Told how God's early wrath had left eternal traces there.
But louder than the Jordan's rush, and deeper than the breeze,
That rustled in the holiow reeds, methought, were sounds like these ;
They came up with the sulphurous fumes that from the surface broke,
As if the voice of those below in solemn warning spoke : —
" O, had the wonders here been done which now are done in vain,
Still had these buried cities stood, the glory of the plain ;
But darker is thy country's doom, and better shall it be
For Sodom, in the judgment day, than, guilty land, for thee ! "

1836.
The year 1836, though full of vicissitude and incident, wrought no
very material change in the relations of the rector of Christ Church.
It appears, from his journal and correspondence, that there was no
abatement, but rather an increase of his cares. Besides the regular
services of his own parish, with the customary round of special
duties, he frequently added, on Sunday evenings, an extra service
at Jamaica Plains, and other places in the vicinity. Though he
had no serious attack of sickness during the year, he frequently
suffered from slight turns of indisposition, and from the great bodily
and mental weariness which followed his labors. But his spirit was
always buoyant, and the transitions in his temper and feelings were
truly wonderful. At the very moment, for example, when his over
tasked powers seemed ready to sink, he was enabled, by a sort of
elastic spring, to rise at once into the region of pleasant fancies,
and indulge in the very exuberance of wit and playfulness. He
could forget, too, his own want of repose, when the sufferings of
others demanded his exertion. A tale of woe, or a call for sympa
thy, would instantly rouse his latent or flagging energies, and give
a new impulse to his movements. So sudden, indeed, were these
transitions, that it was not uncommon to witness, at almost the same
instant, a countenance beaming with cheerful serenity, while the
tears of pity were coursing down the cheeks. From two sources,
of a directly opposite character, he experienced some inconvenience ;

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 177
on the one hand, from his friends, who, supposing, and probably
with good reason, that his constitution could not long bear up under
his severe and accumulating labors, were extremely solicitous to
persuade him to change his pastoral relations. With the most
grateful sense of the kindness of these friends, it will be perceived
that nothing could induce him to abandon his post ; but to refuse,
under such circumstances, must of course have cost him a severe
struggle. But, on the other hand, he had his enemies ; and these
were ever ready, most unjustly and ungenerously, to impute his best
and most disinterested exertions for the welfare of the Church to
the unworthy motive of promoting sinister ends. They could not
have assailed him in a more tender point, or in a more offensive
manner. But it will be seen with what calmness he repelled every
such assault, and how triumphantly his course was vindicated. But
it is unnecessary to anticipate.
In opening the correspondence of the year, after saying, "All
that can be conveyed in the words and wishes of a ' happy new
year ' are yours entirely," he proceeds to give the substance of a
confidential communication from the Rev. Dr. Rudd, of Utica, con
taining an account of the then vacant parish of Trinity Church, in
that city, speaking of the congregation as large and united, the
church and parsonage as forming a very neat and delightful estab
lishment, and the income as liberal, and asking, at the instance of
some of the gentlemen of the vestry, whether he could be induced
to accept the rectorship. Agreeably to his former practice in such
cases, he declined to entertain any proposals. This correspondence
was soon followed by a somewhat fault-finding letter from his friend
Doane, who urged, but without success, by every argument in his
power, the expediency of changing his resolution to decline the
offer. A subsequent letter from Dr. Rudd, though very flattering
in its terms, must not be withheld : " I have many thanks to offer
you for your kind and frank letter ; but though you put us at once
to silence as to the pressing of our desire to bring you here, you
cannot deprive us of one gratification, and that is, the conviction
of those who named you, fully sustained by the language of your
letter, that you are just such a man as we want here. With all the
advantages and promises of usefulness and comfort, and I do think
they are many, you reason soundly in relation to your present situ
ation. You reason just as I would have him reason who was to be
my neighbor, my friend, my companion, and brother." After citing
so much of this letter, he says, " So you see I take it like a good
disciple, first on one cheek, and then on the other ; for the praises
of our friends, to a man who is conscious that he does not deserve
them, are like buffetings indeed."
In his letter of January 4, he cites, as a piece of " pleasantry,"
a brief notice, from the Christian Examiner, of a collection of poetry
23

178 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
called the Boston Book, in which the writer says, " Some of them
are by writers who scarcely avow themselves to be such, and are
specimens indeed not so much of what they have done, as of what
they may do." He then proceeds to give a portion of the Hymn
for Advent, with these complimentary remarks, from the same arti
cle : " A piece to be admired for its sublime simplicity as much as
its pure religion. The, dignity of the sentiment sounds, as it were,
through the music of the words. It rings to us like the church
chime in the serene air of a sweet Sabbath morning." This com
pliment seems to take the author by surprise ; and he asks, " Was
it occasioned by the delightful influences of our bells, think you ?
Or is there really in the piece itself so much more than
the author ever dreamed of 7 and am I indeed like those pleasant
instruments, all unconscious of the melody they make ? If so, non
nobis, Domine ! Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy
name be the praise ! " But whether the critic be too flattering, or
the author too modest, the reader must judge after reading the
poem ; it appears on page 95.
January 18, he writes, " I am fitting up my room very handsomely
in the church, and by this day week, being the festival of the Con
version of St. Paul, and the seventh memorable anniversary of my
ordination, I hope to be able to speak of myself as one that literally
dwells in the house of the Lord — to take possession of it as my
permanent study, lodge, and abiding-place. I trust the conscious
ness of my immediate vicinity to all that is sacred in the habitation
of the Lord's house, and the place where his honor dwelleth, may
not be without some effect in imparting a proper tone and spirit to
my thoughts and conversation." He expresses a hope also that this
retreat may afford him some quiet exemption from unnecessary
interruptions. He describes one of his rooms (for there were two
or three of them) as " a little attic, with one skylight and one side
window, opening into the north gallery of the church by a door so
small, as the Turkish Spy said, that the least suspicion cannot enter
it. You know," he adds, alluding to the study room of his boyish
days, " I am an old ' garretteer,' and have spent some of the hap
piest days of my life in these airy situations, with notions quite lifted
up. It is true that the eaves slope down on each side to about half
my height, but there are places where you can stand erect ; and
the pure light of day comes directly down from above ; and almost
the only sound you hear is the ticking of our old ' abbey horologe,'
which tells of the passage of time and the approach of eternity. It
is indeed a solemn place for a steward of the divine mysteries to
hold high contemplations ; and I hope you will have some of the
benefit of my removal." This removal was unavoidably delayed
beyond his expectations ; and after he had taken possession of these
rooms, his anticipations were not, in all respects, entirely realized,

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 179
as appears from his later communications. But so far as retire
ment, study, and meditation were concerned, they afforded him
great enjoyment ; and we doubt not that some of the sweetest of
his poetical effusions had their origin in these attic heights. He
frequently dated from "Attica," sometimes from "the cloisters of
the Old North Church," and occasionally from " the cloisters of
Cripplegate." The following most solemn and touching lines, found
among his loose papers, and without date, were doubtless written in
these sacred cloisters : —

CHRIST CHURCH.
Here, brother, let us pause a while,
And in this quiet chancel muse
On vanished friends who thronged each aisle,
And crowded these deserted pews.
To whom I broke the bread of life,
And poured the mystic cup of grace,
And hoped, when past this mortal strife,
To share with them our Lord's embrace.
Full are the tombs o'er which we tread ;
And, with o'erwhelming sense of awe,
I summon back the holy dead
Whom once around these rails I saw.
And how much nearer, at this hour,
Their unseen presence than we know !
This is a thought of thrilling power —
O, speak with reverent voice — speak low !
How oft, at dead of night, when sleep
In heaviest folds wrapped all around,
I've come, my vigil here to keep,
And sighed to hear some human sound!
Alone, amid the scene of gloom,
I've watched for dawn, and felt oppressed
To know, that, in that lofty room,
I was the only living guest
The ticking of yon ancient clock,
That marks the solemn tread of Time,
Against my heartstrings seemed to knock ;
And, hark! those Christmas bells sublime!
So have they rung a hundred years,
And on the ears that heard them first
The chiming of the starry spheres
With their enrapturing tones have burst.

180 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
February 13; St. Valentine's Eve, he encloses a copy of the
following verses, under the signature of " W.," with the remark,
that he has written them for the Albany Argus, " to keep up the
mystification of the last year."

VALENTINE.

- - O thou sweet spirit, hear I

Hear the mild spell, and tempt no blacker charm I "
Lady ! beneath a potent sign,
I hail thee from afar,
For 'tis the night when Valentine
Reigns in the calendar ;
And he my patron saint above
All other saints shall be,
Who suffered for devoted love,
And manly constancy.
Few relics of his mortal part,
And fewer still, I ween,
Of his true love and tender heart,
In these cold days are seen:
But if his spirit still may rest
On earth, O, be it mine,
Till I, dear maid, shall stand confessed
Thy faithful Valentine !

It is curious to look back, for a period of some sixteen years-
only, aud read such a record as the following. In a much shorter
time than the writer could then have conceived, all his pleasing
anticipations have been more than realized, in the opening of rail
road communication in every part of our extensive country. He
had been to Worcester by railroad, and had returned, highly pleased
with this mode of conveyance. " I could not help thinking," he
says, " how delightful it will be when this kind of communication is
completed to New Haven, and I may be able to see you once a
month without being missed here, and without being worried out
of all enjoyment by the fatigue of the ride. If this were but a
dream, there would be no harm in iudulging it ; but I believe that
we have but just begun to know how to make any thing of this
great invention, and that we shall see infinitely greater things than
these." March 7, he announces his removal to his church rooms ; and if
one may judge from the general tenor of his letter, from whipU

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 181
however, one extract only can be given, his elevation gave a new
impulse to his wit. " I have retired," he says, " with the most
celebrated philosophers of antiquity, to that favorite retreat called
Attica by the classic writers, but better known in the vernacular as
a cockloft." But these pleasant lines had scarcely passed from his hands,
before he was called to mourn, in all the bitterness of grief, for tbe
loss of the Rev. Mr. Keese, whom he had loved with a truly broth
erly affection, and who, as the associate of his father in the rector
ship of Trinity Church, New Haven, had endeared himself not only
to his senior, but to the whole congregation, as well as a very
extensive circle of friends elsewhere. The letter communicating
the afflictive intelligence of this loss the editor feels bound, in justice
to his own feelings, to copy entire, together with some portions of
the letters of George Brinley, Esq.,* detailing the particulars of
the closing scenes in the life of this beloved servant of God.
Under date of March 9, he writes to his father, " I have just
received from Mr. Brinley the melancholy intelligence of the
decease of our dear friend and brother, the Rev. William L.
Reese, at San Pedro, not far from Matanzas, in Cuba. Mr. B.
informs me, that, at the request of Mrs. R., he has communicated
the sad tidings, in similar terms, to yourself. But as my letters may
be fuller, — for there are two, — J shall copy the larger part of
them, in order that you may, if it be thought proper, communi
cate them for publication in some of the New Haven papers. The
friends of our late beloved brother are so numerous, and include so
wide a circle throughout the country, that these particulars will, I
think, be looked for, and I am sure will be read with deep interest.
My feelings have been much affected by the receipt of these letters.
They are particularly touched by his kind remembrance of me in
his last moments ; and my mind is impressed in a manner, never,
I trust, to be effaced. In the lateness of the hour I can add no
more." " San Pedro, February 18, 1836.
"I have often mentioned the Rev. Mr. Reese in my letters to
you and my family. We have not anticipated any cure, neither has
he expected it ; but we had every reason to believe, that, early in
April, he would accompany us to Charleston, S. C, and be restored
to his family and friends. Within a few days, however, there has
been a sudden prostration of strength, and it is not possible for him
to continue but a short time. He is calm, composed, and resigned.
An hour since, I read to him the service appropriate to one in his
* Mr. Brinley, with Mrs. B. and daughter, had accompanied Mr. and Mrs.
Keese to Cuba, Mrs. B. being also in delicate health.

182 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
situation. His mind is unimpaired. We have an excellent physician
in our house, who came in company with a sick lady, and he has
his aid freely. But, alas ! nothing can now be done ; and his
strength is almost exhausted. Since I have been here, I have
attended two in their sickness and last moments. Mr. R. was pres
ent in one instance, and said, ' I am going in the same manner.'
" These events affect us all very much, more particularly the
invalids. Mr. R. has heretofore expressed an ardent hope that it
would not be his destiny to expire upon this island, where there is
an absence of all religious observance at the funeral ; and he has
constantly said, if he found himself retrograding, he should imme
diately start for home. His change has been too sudden, however,
to carry his purpose into effect ; and he acquiesces with true Chris
tian resignation in the necessity. The first person who died here
was buried on this estate. The authorities, however, would not
permit the same for the second. As soon as a person expires,
notice must be given to a civil officer, who brings his secretary, and
takes an inventory of the effects. Then you must seek the Padre,
for permission to bury in the churchyard, which is granted for a
fee, upon the declaration that the deceased was a Catholic. When
the coffin was lowered into the grave, a gentleman present cast a
handful of earth on it, and exclaimed ' Adieu ! ' All this excited
painful emotions to one accustomed to religious rites ; but it cannot
be avoided." " February 19, 1836.
"Yesterday I despatched a letter for you to Matanzas, apprising
you of the rapid decline of our mutual friend, the Rev. Mr. Reese.
It now becomes my painful duty to acquaint you that he expired
this morning, at half past seven. I watched with him during the
night, and never left him until he breathed his last. He suffered
very much during the last twelve hours of his life ; his extreme
debility preventing him from raising the accumulated phlegm, and
he died with suffocation. He was perfectly conscious of his situa
tion, but found it difficult to express himself. At half past three, I
read some Scriptures aud appropriate prayers, by his request. When
finished, he exclaimed aloud by great effort, ' O Lord Jesus, receive
my spirit! Victory — victory through Christ!' He then embraced
his wife, thanked his physician, and commended him to God, and
placed his wife under my care. After the lapse of a little time, he
turned to me, as if he had forgotten something, and said, 'Remem
ber me particularly to Croswell, and kindly to Dr. Wainwright.'
The warmth of the weather makes it necessary that the interment
should take place to-day ; and to-morrow Mrs. R. will leave this for
Matanzas, twenty miles, and embark in the first vessel for Charles
ton, S. C, or New York. I shall accompany her to Matanzas, to
give her facilities for embarkation."

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 183
After giving these extracts from Mr. Brinley's letters, he adds,
" The circumstances of her bereavement are indeed aggravating
and heartrending. I cannot but consider it, however, as most gra
ciously ordered by Providence, that Mr. R. should have had the
comfort of Mr. Brinley's society in his last days ; that he should
have been at hand to administer, in his last hours, not to his bodily
wants only, but to those spiritual necessities for which the Church
has made such comfortable provision, and to discharge those confi
dential relations for which his generous and manly nature so emi
nently fit him. In all those trying scenes which preceded, attended,
and followed his death, his judicious counsels, soothing attentions,
and equanimity of character must have made his presence an un
speakable blessing ; and they shall in no wise lose their reward.
May the same holy and triumphant consolations of our faith, to
whicli he was a witness not only, but a minister also, be abundantly
shed on his last hours, and those of all who are near and dear
to us."
In his remaining letters for the month of March, which are chiefly
occupied with matters of private or local interest, nothing seems to
require special notice. With the accumulated labors of the season,
and occasional turns of slight indisposition, he found but little time
or strength to bestow on his correspondence. He announces his
intention of taking, immediately after Easter, a little relaxation, by
absenting himself for three Sundays from his parish, leaving the
pulpit to be supplied by some of his neighboring brethren. Accord
ingly, on the 4th of April he left home, and proceeded, by the way
of Providence and New York, to Burlington. Here, and in Phila
delphia and vicinity, he spent some ten or twelve days ; and then,
after making a visit to New Haven, returned to Boston on the 29th.
On the 30th, he dates a short letter from the " vestry of the Old
North," merely to notify his father of his safe arrival, adding, " I
find that I have not returned too soon for the good of the parish,
and have been received with the most emphatic demonstrations of
gladness and good will."
But, on the instant, as it were, the note of sorrow is again
sounded, and sickness and death once more enter the circle of his
beloved friends. On the 4th of May, he writes that a young and
interesting daughter of his excellent and honored friend, Mr. Brin
ley, had, in the absence of her parents, been brought, in conse
quence of bleeding at the lungs, to the very brink of the grave.
Though partially relieved, he speaks of her situation as extremely
critical. Again, on the 9th, he writes, " Mr. Brinley is daily
expected. His daughter Sarah is a little more comfortable, but I
fear that nothing can save her from an early grave ; and I am
apprehensive, not only for her, but for its effect upon the health of
Mrs. B. The familv have been visited with severe affliction within

184 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
the last few years, and there seems to be more in reserve. May
God prepare them for, and sustain them under it." Further, on
the 16th : " Mrs. Brinley returned on Wednesday, having left
Richmond on the preceding Friday, and making the more haste as
it was considered doubtful whether Sarah could possibly survive
till their return. On the way, the state of the case was gradually
broken to her ; and, considering the fatigue and anxiety of her rapid
journey, she appears remarkably well. She is not probably aware
of the extreme danger of her daughter's situation ; but it will grad
ually develop itself under her own observation, and I hope will not
surprise her unawares, or find her unprepared." And, finally, on
the 23d : " Since I wrote you last, Death has extinguished another
light, in the household of our friend Mr. Brinley. His daughter
Sarah departed this life on Saturday morning, about one o'clock.
Her religious character shone out brightly at the last, and her death
bed exhibited a most edifying scene. She was spared much bodily
suffering ; her spirit was composed and tranquil, her departure easy,
and her hope full of immortality. It was my privilege to be with
her in the closing scenes of her life ; and I found that I had, until
then, underrated the intelligence and maturity of her mind. The
propriety of her religious views, and the simplicity of her confi
dence in the love of her Savior, convinced me that these subjects
had occupied her mind more than the family had, perhaps, been
aware ; that her sickness and confinement had been improved by
her to a sanctifying purpose ; and that divine grace was fast com
pleting its work upon her heart. Her kind consideration of all
about her, and her extreme solicitude lest she should cause her
mother unnecessary distress, were very affecting, and left an impres
sion never to be effaced. She united with great fervencv in the
devotions which were used at her bedside, at frequent intervals, up
to almost the last moment ; and she joined her unconscious testi-
tnoiiy to that of many a dying saint, by desiring to have the prayers
of her mother, the Church, before all others. By a great struggle
of the spirit over the flesh, she was able to unite distinctly in the
Lord's prayer, as often as it was repeated ; and in response to the
ejaculations of her mother, just before she breathed her last, ' Lord
Jesus, receive my spirit ! ' she audibly exclaimed, ' Even so, come,
Lord Jesus ! ' So saying, she fell asleep, and entered into rest. We
cannot doubt, that to die, for her, has indeed been gain, and that
of such is the kingdom of heaven. The conviction that it is indeed
so, and that her child has gone to add to the treasures laid up for
her in heaven, sustains her mother's fainting heart under this sore
bereavement ; and she bows herself to the will of God with unmur
muring resignation. For the same reason, I hope it will not be
allowed to prey so seriously on her own feeble health as appre
hended. In compliance with Sarah's own touching request, her

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 185
remains were conveyed to Brookline on Saturday evening, to be laid
by the side of her sister in that rural burial-place, and to add another
to the consecrated associations which already make that spot like
' holy ground.' Nothing could be more serene and heavenly than
the expression of her countenance after her death, when, looking
steadfastly on her, we saw her face as it had been the face of an
angel." A letter of the same date, addressed to an aunt of the
deceased, Mrs. Grosvenor, of Hartford, has been placed in our
hands ; and had we not already anticipated, in the foregoing ex
tracts, all the principal facts and reflections contained in this letter,
we should not fail to avail ourselves of the privilege granted to us
of copying it entire. These extracts are given, as well to record
a passing tribute to the memory of the lovely child, who, on this
occasion, was the object of his tenderest solicitude and kindest min
istrations, as to exhibit some of the peculiar traits of this devoted
pastor's character, and to show, by this living sketch, the nature
of the trying scenes through which he was often called to pass.
" Being," he says, at this time, " the only minister on hand, I have
had more duty than usual, and my hands are full ; but I have never
yet found my strength unequal to my day, and am, by the great
mercy of God, in excellent health."
But we are now to turn to another episode in his eventful life.
During his late visit, he had been led, by some intimations from a
correspondent, to expect an invitation to become the assistant min
ister of the Church of All Saints, in the city of New York. He
knew not by what influences, nor through whose well-meant, though
unwelcome offices, the attention of the parish had been turned to
him. But the call, in due form, reached him soon after his return
to Boston ; and he thus speaks of it, dating from the "Old North,"
May 9 : " I have received the official communication from New
York, including a letter from the rector, another from the rector,
wardens, and vestry, and a third from the committee appointed to
transmit the same. They are full and hearty, and impress me much
more strongly than I supposed they could, after what had been
already said to me. They do not go in the least, however, to affect
my determination. . . . The invitation from All Saints is grat
ifying on many accounts ; and I have no doubt, if I needed any
thing of that kind, that it would be of much service to me here.
I have reason to believe, however, that my people already appreciate
me quite as highly as I deserve ; and I could be in no situation
where more readiness could be exhibited to do every thing in their
power to make me comfortable and happy. While this is the case,
nothing will induce me to leave them." It is not necessary to copy
the entire correspondence in this case. The call is made in the
usual form, and is well characterized by himself as " full and
24

186 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
hearty." But from his own copies on file, we are enabled to tran
scribe his letters in reply to the rector, the Rev. William C. Clark,
and to the committee of the vestry who transmitted the invitation.
"Boston, May 14, 1836.
" Rev. akd dear Sir : It is just a week to-day since I received
your favor of the 2d inst, enclosing an invitation to become assist
ant minister of All Saints' Church, New York, from the rector,
wardens, and vestry of the same, together with a letter from their
committee, in which you all most cordially unite to urge it upon
my acceptance. I should do violence to my feelings, if I did not
express the deep and grateful impressions which this testimonial of
your confidence and regard has made upon my mind ; and I assure
you, that during this whole time it has occupied my constant and
serious deliberation. For reasons, however, with which it will
not be necessary to trouble you in detail, I have come to the con
clusion that it is my duty to decline. Suffice it to say, that they
grow not less out of the consideration of the pleasant nature of my
present parochial relations, than from a consciousness of my pecu
liar inaptitude for such a situation as the meridian of New York.
It is doubtless true, as you observe, that a parish there presents a
sphere of usefulness superior to almost any other ; but I feel a deep
conviction of my deficiency in those qualifications which I conceive
to be absolutely indispensable to ministerial usefulness in such a
situation. The noise and bustle of your great city confuses and
distracts me ; and the stirring spirit which you require is so differ
ent from any thing which has been called into exercise iu this ancient
and quiet abode, where unsophisticated simplicity could hardly be
surpassed in any rural cure, and affords me many of the advantages
of rus in urbe. In declining the invitation, therefore, I trust I have
been as mindful of what was due to you and your parish, as to me
and mine ; and with the value which I am disposed, after some
years' experience, to put upou my own services, I am perfectly
convinced that their loss at Christ Church would be much greater
that their gain could possibly be at All Saints.
" Let me assure you, Rev. and dear sir, that I feel greatly
indebted to you for the consideration of personal preference which
led to your nomination of myself as your assistant, and hope to
see you, at some early day, face to face, and make some fuller
acknowledgment of the obligation. In the mean while, accept my
best wishes that your attention may be directed to the selection of
some brother more apt and meet to cooperate with you in promot
ing the spiritual welfare of your flock, and that you and they may
long continue to rejoice together.
" With great respect, yours truly,
"W. CROSWELL.
" To the Rev. William A. Clark."

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 187
"Boston, May 14, 1836.
" Gentlemen : I have received a communication, bearing date
New York, April 25, 1836, in which the rector, wardens, and vestry
of All Saints' Church, agreeably to the nomination of the rector,
and the approval of the board of the vestry, legally convened, invite
me to become the assistant minister of said church. This is accom
panied with the earnest personal solicitation of your respected
rector, and a letter from yourselves, as committee of the board,
expressing the most anxious desire that I should entertain a favora
ble view of your wishes. I am also given to understand that the
proposed arrangement is in accordance with the wishes of the con
gregation generally, and receives the countenance and support of
your excellent diocesan. I should be insensible not to feel that you
have done me undeserved honor ; and I beg leave to assure you
personally, and through you the highly respectable body of gentle
men, whom I yet know only by their signatures, thafnothing could
be more gratifying than such an evidence of their good opinion, or
more satisfactory than the terms in which it is conveyed ; nor can
I doubt, that were I at liberty to accept, it would be a pleasure and
a privilege to be associated with them in the pastoral connection.
At the same time, I should be undeserving of this expression of
your regard, if I were lightly to sever the sacred and endearing ties
which bind me to my present cure. As 1 have been anxious to
avoid disturbing the minds of our own people unnecessarily, I have
not communicated with them on the subject, and indeed have en
deavored to form my conclusions without consulting with flesh and
blood. In the mean time, 1 have received so many fresh and spon
taneous evidences of the prevalence of the very best spirit on their
part, and receive them as such clear indications of duty, that I should
not feel justified at present in giving encouragement to any propo
sals of change whatever. For these reasons, and others alluded to
in my letter of this date to your respected rector, I must beg leave
to decline the invitation which you have done me the honor to offer,
and to express the hope that you may be directed, with the same
unanimity in your counsels, to a wiser and better choice.
" I hope I have not kept the parish in unnecessary suspense by
any seeming delay in making this communication. It is but a single
week since your papers were before me ; and a less time for con
sidering and deciding the question would hardly have been consistent
with the respect which was due to those who made the call, and
the importance of the decision to all the parties interested. . . .
" To Messrs. Pinckney, Walton, and Hanford, Committee, &c."
On the 16th he writes to his father, " I have sent my letters,
declining the invitation to All Saints' ; and they sound so pleasantly,
as a friend observes, that they will be naturally desirous to have me

188 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836,
decline again. If my refusal be so satisfactory, I am almost afraid
to ask what my acceptance would be. Meanwhile, my own peculiar
people have been showing themselves zealous of good works. With
out knowing any thing of what had transpired with respect to All
Saints', and without the slightest desire or expectation on my part,
they have voluntarily given me the best proof of their regard and
attachment, which, under the circumstances of the parish, it was in
their power to bestow — by raising my salary. I have not yet suffi
ciently recovered from my surprise to decide how I shall dispose of
my surplus revenue, but think it probable that no small portion of
it will go to patronize the public conveyances that will bring me,
in the shortest possible time, to New Haven."
This very reasonable suggestion was not forgotten, though his
anticipated visit homeward was necessarily deferred for a few weeks.
In the mean time, he dates from the " cloisters," and writes in his
accustomed free and easy style. June 21, he says, "The consecra
tion of Grace Church, and the services connected with the Conven
tion, have passed off very pleasantly. I cannot complain of not
having had my share of honor and attention. Besides being assigned
to a part in the consecration, I was subsequently appointed preacher
to the next Convention, and a member of the standing committee.
I am not sure, also, that I do not figure among the trustees of the
seminary and on the board of missions. I was not present at the
closing scenes of the Convention, when these appointments were
made, and have seen no one who could tell me much about it. The
smallest favor thankfully received, and duly acknowledged. I have
not aspired to these distinctions ; but, like the hero of two wars, —
if so great things may be likened to small, — I shall act upon the
simple principle, that ' office is neither to be sought nor declined.'
My manner of life continues to agree with me," &,c.
One week later, June 27, he finds occasion to write in a different
strain : "I do not know whether you will be glad or sad, but it
rather vexes me, that I have been forced out of my lodgings at the
cloisters, by something stronger than superstition or the force of
public opinion. Tell it not in Gath. I have been haunted, haunted
by a visitation from the tombs; inaudible, unseen ministries, but,
alack-a-day ! not unsmelt." Tombs, it seems, had been erected under
the vestry; "and whenever they are opened," he says, "for the
reception of a new tenant, fhey give out, of course, something more
doleful than a cry. It is true that this has happened but once or
twice ; and so potent has been my protest, that it will probably
never happen again ; but as 1 am something of an alarmist on such
subjects, and value myself too highly to expose myself to the least
risk from offensive and unwholesome exhalations, 1 have made an
ado about it, struck my tent, and taken my abode again at the
American House. Here I shall remain until I can do better,

1836/ CHRIST CHURCH. 189
retaining my study and sanctum still in the vestry and attic of the
church, vvhich grow daily upon my estimation, as the most desirable
centres of motion."
Under date of the " glorious fourth," which fell on Monday, he
writes, " Three animated services yesterday, a ride to Cambridge
at night, and a walk from thence this morning, are somewhat
exhausting to the animal frame ; and it will not be strange if I find
my pen moving rather tremulously and languidly along, —
 ' Just like a sick man in his dream,
Three paces, and then faltering.'
The noise and tumult of this day of uproar has not yet invaded the
quiet of the cloisters. I should hardly be aware of its arrival but
for the sounds from afar. I am hardly tempted out this morning
by any thing that reaches my ear. After dinner, I may mingle a
little in the stir of the great Babel ; and, at night, I shall be hardly
able to resist the treat of the fireworks on the Common, (if the
weather permits,) which are said to be rather finer than any thing
of the kind ever exhibited in Boston."
In the course of this month, he succeeded in effecting a meeting
with his brother Sherman at New Haven, and making a joint visit
of several days. He left Boston on the 14th, and returned on the
23d. On the 25th, dating from the " cloisters of Cripplegate," he
thus alludes to this visit : " My last visit convinces me that a good
deal can be done in a little time, and that, in this way, we shall be
able to come often without being much missed. Though Sherman's
confinement is much greater, at certain seasons of the year, than
mine, still the facilities for getting home are so much greater from
Albany than Boston, that he can easily make his arrangements for
seeing you frequently, even if it be but for a day or two. You
must urge it upon him ; and as often as he will make an appoint
ment upon which I can depend, I will not fail to meet him. I feel
indeed that it is a duty, as well as a delight, thus to assemble our
selves together ; and it should be repeated with the greater alacrity,
while there are no domestic ties to encumber our movements, while
the household circle is mercifully preserved unbroken, and we have
all life and health to enjoy them. I assure you that I cherish my
late visit as among my happiest hours, though rapid, alas ! as pleasant
in their flight."
In the same letter he thus alludes to the death of Bishop White :
"Yesterday I did what I could to make Bishop White's death
remembered. I robed the episcopal chair in black, rung funeral
airs on the bells, had the music solemn and plaintive through all the
services, introduced one of the collects of the burial service ; and
though I did not preach, yet the whole exercises were of so marked

190 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
a character as to produce an obvious impression on the minds of
the people. After divine service in the afternoon, I called the
wardens and vestry together, stated to them some of the circum
stances of Bishop White's decease, proposed a brief series of reso
lutions respecting the same, which will be printed, and was requested
to preach on the subject next Sunday morning. To-day, at. the
suggestion of some of us, the bishop has called a meeting of the
clergy of the city and vicinity, on Wednesday, at his house, to do
what is right and proper in the premises. And I hope what is right
and proper will be done."
The hope here expressed does not seem to have been fully real
ized ; for he writes in his next letter, " The bishop did me the
honor to take my advice as to the expediency of calling a meeting
of the clergy, with reference to the decease of Bishop White. At
my suggestion, he prepared some resolutions, and a collect to be
used in our churches. The substance of them will be found in the
Witness. Strange to say, however, we had some difficulty in getting
them passed ; and to secure unanimity, they were obliged to undergo
some important modifications." Two of the brethren "objected,
at the threshold, to every thing, as savoring of idolatrous veneration,
or going to magnify the bishop's office above that of his brethren.
S  especially objected to designating him as guide or father ;
and when referred to the Prayer Book in justification of the epithet,
he further expressed his regret that it was countenanced by the
liturgy. The force of radicalism could go no further, and never
did it appear more disgusting. If we parted with increased vener
ation for the dead, it was with higher contempt and apprehension
for the living ; so that our coming together, as on many previous
occasions, was not for the better, but for the worse." He then
adds, " Our church was well filled yesterday; and I preached in the
morning on the text which I selected at home, from 2 Rings ii. 3.
It gave so good satisfaction, that the proprietors, after service, met,
and requested a copy for publication. I shall tell them to come
again in nine years, according to the Horatian canon, and I will let
them know."
In a subsequent letter, he writes, " The movements in testimony
of veneration for the memory of Bishop White seem to have been
simultaneous and spontaneous in all parts of the country. The
churches here have generally exhibited some badge of sorrow, with
the exception of St. Paul's ; and sermons have been preached
expressly with reference to the event. ... I was yesterday
reading one of Bishop Andrews's petitions for the king, and was
much struck with its beauty and the remarkable manner in which
it had been realized by the patriarch of our Church : ' Let the dial
of his life move slowly on ; and suffer not his old age to strike, till
those who now stand up about him like the tender branches of the

1836.] CHRIST CHURCH. 191
vine, be seen growing on the banks of this same kingdom* like
rows of tall cedars.' "
There is much of pleasant and familiar chit-chat in his corre
spondence of this period, which we have neither the right nor the
disposition to draw forth from the privacy of domestic custody. We
will only select, here and there, such passages as may best seem to
develop those deep and sympathetic feelings which formed the most
endearing traits of his character. Having been informed of the severe
and dangerous sickness of an aunt in New Haven, whom he most
sincerely loved and honored, he writes, " She has been a kind and
attentive friend to the sick and afflicted, and I trust will find her
reward, in this her day of visitation. It is a path which we must all
travel ; and the thought is calculated to make us realize our depend
ence, not only on God, but on each other, and make us the more
anxious to discharge our relative duties while the day lasts." After her
death, he writes, November 22, "It is difficult for me to realize that
my good aunt is really dead, and that I shall see her face on earth
no more forever. I did not know myself how well I loved her till
now ; and it grieves me to the heart that I have given her so few
tokens of what I felt towards her while it was yet in my power.
With the sincerity of sorrow I mourn her loss ; and, in common
with all who knew her best, I desire ever to cherish and imitate the
example of uncommon excellence which she exhibited in all the
relations of life. With what unspeakable comfort and satisfaction
can we dwell upon the manner in whicli she discharged every duty,
domestic, social, and religious. How can we ever forget the many
delightful hours which she has enlivened with the playful but inno
cent spirit of her conversation, her sterling depth of Christian prin
ciple, her warm and tender compassion, ever alive to the claims of
poverty and privation, and that rare combination of sensibility and
energy which exists only in the female breast, and made the sons
and daughters of need, of suffering, and affliction ever ready to rise
up and call her blessed ? She cannot but have entered into peace ;
and her works, many and beautiful, do indeed follow her ; and where
she is, like her and her Savior, may we be also."
On every recurrence of his birthday, his thoughts took a pensive
turn. Writing to his brother Frederick, November 4, he says,
" Next Monday will be my birthday ; and if I feel as at present, I
shall, think that I am quite old enough to have completed my thirty-
second year. It causes me great searchings of heart that I am no
wiser and better as life wears away, and hope that I shall have grace
to turn over, with the next leaf, to a brighter and more blessed
page." His next letter, dated on his birthday, November 7, is
addressed (his father being absent on a journey) to his cousin Eliz
abeth : " This is my birthday ; and mother, at least, will not forget
this day of joy and sorrow two-and-thirty years ago. It makes me

192 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1836.
sad to think, how little of comfort to her, how little of usefulness
to society, that long track of years has brought. I should despair
for the future, but that such a feeling would but aggravate the sin
with which the past is burdened. In very truth, my cousin, I feel
wondrous old, and am conscious of the want of something like a
new spring to reanimate the premature winter of my being. .
But I will not indulge in this melancholy train of thought, lest it
should be contagious to kindred minds. The world is bright around
me, my health is excellent, my spirits good, and my heart is not
yet dead within me. I hope to be at home soon, and give you living
evidence that I can yet stand up, and ' give the world assurance of
a man.' I cannot but admit that I long to have the time arrive,
and shall count the days of father's absence."
He commemorated this, his thirty-second birthday, also, in the
following beautiful stanzas, addressed to his father, introduced by a
Latin motto from Milton, and dated from the " cloisters of Cripple
gate, November 7, 1836."

TO MY FATHER.
My father, I recall the dream
Of childish joy and wonder,
When thou wast young as I now seem,
Say, thirty-three, or under ;
When on thy temples, as on mine,
Time just began to sprinkle
His first gray hairs, and traced the sign
Of many a coming wrinkle.
I recognize thy voice's tone
As to myself I'm talking ;
And this firm tread, how like thine own,
In thought, the study walking !
As, musing, to and fro I pass,
A glance across my shoulder
Would bring thine image in the glass,
Were it a trifle older.

My father, proud am I to bear
Thy face, thy form, thy stature,
But happier far might I but share
More of thy better nature ;
Thy patient progress after good,
All obstacles disdaining,
Thy courage, faith, and fortitude,
And spirit uncomplaining.

CHRIST CHURCH. 193
Then for the day that I was born
Well might I joy, and borrow
No longer of the coming morn
Its trouble or its sorrow ;
Content I'd be to take my chance
In either world, possessing
For my complete inheritance
Thy virtues and thy blessing !
From this time he began to project another visit to New Haven,
where he expected again to meet his brother Sherman ; but so
many obstacles intervened connected with his official duties, that he
was compelled to defer it from week to week, and finally to relin
quish it altogether, very much to his own sorrow, as well as the
disappointment of his brother and the family at home. December
29, he writes, " My last forlorn hope is gone ; and it is now too late
to think of getting home in season to see Sherman." After detail
ing some of the causes of the detention, he adds, "All these things
seem to be against me ; but God knows best. . I write with a smile
on my lips and a tear in my eye ; but it will do no good to weep
about it. I wanted to see Sherman, but it is not indispensable.
Perhaps, too, I can reach him at Albany ; at any rate, I shall look
forward to a meeting with him in the spring, in the old parsonage."
At this time, he had an unpleasant controversy with one of his
brethren of the clergy of Boston. It originated in an entire mis
apprehension on the part of his assailant, who addressed him in
language extremely reprehensible and hurtful to his feelings. It is
evident, from his journal and from his letters to his father, that he
found great difficulty in restraining his indignation. " I was tempt
ed," he says, " to use harsh language in reply, but, by the grace of
God, was brought to a better mind, and have got the advantage of
him, by writing such an answer as becomes one Christian minister
to send to another." It is quite unnecessary to record this corre
spondence, especially as it terminated amicably, and in a manner
highly creditable to both parties. Mr. S  , after tendering a
full apology, and entering into a satisfactory explanation of the
whole matter, closes thus: "Allow me now to say, that I exceed
ingly regret that any circumstance, however originating, should have
led to the misunderstanding which has temporarily interrupted the
harmony of our mutual relations, and to express my earnest hope
that the correct understanding of those circumstances, to vvhich we
have now attained, may contribute to future increased pleasantness
in our clerical and Christian intercourse." And this is the response
of the rector of Christ Church : " I beg you to believe, my dear
sir, that I as freely forgive the injury as I would be forgiven under
25

194 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
similar circumstances ; I cordially reciprocate the wishes you express
for a better understanding between us ; and I am happy in the belief,
that the exercise of such courtesy as is observed in the common
intercourse of gentlemen will preserve, and the influence of Chris
tian charity will surely augment, the harmony of those relations
which every consideration of duty requires us to maintain towards
each other."

1837.

Before the foregoing controversy had been brought to a con
clusion, a visit to New Haven was accomplished. He left Boston
on the 4th of January, and, proceeding by the way of Worcester
and Hartford, arrived at New Haven on the 5th. This visit appears
to have passed very pleasantly, being spent chiefly among his friends
and relatives ; but it terminated rather abruptly, in consequence of
a summons to return on account of the dangerous illness of a
parishioner. While on this visit, at the request of two of his young
friends, he wrote verses in their albums. This was an act of
courtesy, which, from his good nature, he was seldom able to
decline. Of these productions, however, probably very few have
ever found their way beyond the covers of the books in which they
were originally written. In the present case, one of the two was
copied into his own manuscript collection, from which it is here
transcribed. S01>IA.
" The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom."
Such wisdom as thy name implies,
And all who seek may find,
Be ever honored in thine eyes,
And treasured in thy mind ;
Its glory more than gold or gem
Thy happy brow shall deck,
Be on thy head a diadem,
And pearls about thy neck.
For they who fear the Lord shall be
Unto salvation wise ;
And mighty is the mystery
Which in that sentence lies.

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 195
Unmoved by other fear or shame,
Let but that fear be thine,
And in the spirit of thy name
Pursue the life divine.

Of the other it is difficult to speak with confidence ; but the
following is found in the manuscript collection of a friend, without
date, and may be inserted in this place: —

EST AN ALBUM.
Here, Lady, as from some Sibylline leaf,
Read of the after time, when thou shalt know
Thou hast a mightier book than Prospero ;
Albeit he of necromancers chief
Boasted his volume of enchanting power,
(As thou hast read, whose leisure loves to pore
On Britain's and thy country's choicest lore,)
To call departed spirits to his bower.
This is the potent tome, which erewhile, spread
At mystic moments, when thy soul has read
Each penman's spellwork, howsoever brief,
Shall straight recall his form in life and limb ;
Then Heaven forefend, that gentle hearts, with grief,
Or yet in anger, should remember him.

On his return home, on the 20th, he was much relieved by finding
that the condition of the parishioner, whose extreme illness had
occasioned his urgent recall, was much less alarming than he had
reason to apprehend. But he did not regret his early return, as
there was at the time a considerable amount of sickness in the
parish, and his presence was much needed. His account of one
case is so remarkable that it is freely transcribed, in full confidence
that it is in no respect exaggerated : '• "me young man, in our
neighborhood, died the same morning, litera. a victim and a mar
tyr to Graham's system of abstinence. Ten months ago he was
in the bloom of health ; but straw beds, pillows filled with shavings,
cold water baths daily, and cold water diet, with bread toasted to
a crisp, and the merest vegetable stuff, had reduced him to a skele
ton. His mind became diseased, as his body decayed ; and nothing
could divert him from his delusion. At last, his blood began to
stagnate and corrupt. Boils made their appearance. He told
Graham of it ; but he burst into a horse laugh, clapped him on

196 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
the shoulder, told him he was glad of it, that they would do him
good, and that he wished he had a hundred ! In this respect his
wishes were gratified, for Job himself was not more completely
covered from head to foot."
In a letter, dated from the " cloisters of Christ Church," on the
first Sunday evening after his return, he thus administers a rebuke,
which, though applied to the congregations in New Haven, might
have been extended with equal justice to a large portion of the
worshipping assemblies of the Church throughout the country. The
day had been extremely stormy, and he says, "Our congregations
have of course been thin ; but it did my heart good to hear how
heartily and strongly the responses were made by the few who were
present. It was in remarkable contrast with the deathlike stillness
of your congregations in New Haven, which is enough to chill the
warmth of a saint's devotion. Though I have often observed this
trait in my parish, I was never so struck with the difference before ;
and I really felt proud and elevated by the sound, as of many
waters, which made the church echo with the responses of the
Litany to-day."
January 31, he announces with much gratification the safe arrival
of Rev. Dr. Wainwright, in fine health and spirits, from England,
where he had been spending several months. He had brought with
him an excellent organ for Trinity Church, which was intended to
surpass, and doubtless did surpass, any instrument of the kind then
in the country. Of the extraordinary qualities and powers of this
instrument, some interesting particulars will be found hereafter. In
this letter he also mentions a visit from the Rev. Dr. S  , remark
ing that it was the first he had ever made him since he came to the
city. The interview was long and dispassionate, and led to the con
cluding letters in the correspondence above mentioned.* At a later
date, in transmitting copies of these letters, he says, "I am glad
that it has been brought to so creditable a close for me ; and I have
no disposition, even were it my duty, to concern myself further with
the business. I hope the society will not think it necessary to
meddle with it ; but, at any rate, the clergy must let it alone."
He speaks in this and several subsequent letters of the great
amount of sickness in his parish, and of an unprecedented share of
duty. But he represents his own health, at this time, as perfectly
sound. The records of the year, however, disclose the fact that he
was often overcome by his excessive labors, and that certain indica
tions sometimes betrayed but too plainly an impaired state of the
constitution. These disclosures are found more frequently in his
* See pp. 193, 194.

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 197
diary than in his letters. His diary was a record entirely private,
and was designed for no eye but his own. His entries were indeed
sometimes made in a dead language, or in stenographical charac
ters, to secure concealment. Here, therefore, he could write with
perfect freedom ; but in his letters he was more guarded, that he
might not excite the apprehensions of his friends. But, not to
anticipate, it is sufficient, at present, to cite a passage or two from
a letter of Sunday evening, February 19 : "I have had no assist
ance whatever in three full services, to-day, though there have been
three clergymen present, besides Sunday school, baptisms, and visit
ing the sick." Of this last duty he had a great amount. At the
close of his letter, he says, " I wish I were going out to Europe
with cousin B. I think such a voyage would do me good service,
though I cannot plead any necessity on the score of ill health, and
should much prefer being well enough at home to being a valetudi
narian abroad. I am tired with a hard day's work, but never
enjoyed better health."
Another letter from the " cloisters " gives a little further infor
mation as to the new organ, imported by the rector for Trinity
Church : " It is certainly a wonderful instrument, and excites the
admiration of our builders here, who are men of no mean reputa
tion in their business, but who confess that this will far surpass their
art. Many of the larger pipes, which we construct of wood, are,
in this instrument, of metal ; and the doctor says that there is not
less than a ton in the weight of all of them together. A peculiarity
of this class of instruments is, that the performer turns his back to
the organ, and looks towards the people, with his keyboard before
him, after the fashion of a piano-forte. The builder, young Gray,
who has come out with it, is said to be one of the very best per
formers in England, and presided at the organ, at the great musical
festival in Westminster Abbey, accompanied by seven hundred sing
ing men and singing women, besides the orchestra. . . . Gray
says, that, at tbe first sound of all the music at this festival, the
effect was so overwhelming that he burst into tears, as did almost
all the performers about him, and cried through the whole of it.
Such was their ecstasy that they literally could not contain them
selves. We, on this side of the water, have but little idea of any
such music as this ; but we have the comfort of knowing, as old
John Newton says, that if we behave like good Christians, we shall
have much better music in heaven."
The following lines were written, under date of March 28, in
the oratorio of " The Feast of Tabernacles." They are found in
manuscript, and it is doubtful whether they have appeared in print.

198 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.

•'THE FEAST OF TABERNACLES."
Methinks there is indeed a " feast "
In these inspiring words alone,
Which could not even be increased
By music's most enchanting tone.
My inmost sense they ravish quite
With scenes and sounds so dear to me,
They fill my ear, they fill my sight,
And leave no room for minstrelsy.
Raise ye who will the spells of power
In which the sons of song combine :
To sit and muse some silent hour
O'er these transporting leaves, be mine !
Here pitch my verdant tent ; for here
He must have felt it good to be,
Who built these tabernacles dear
To Faith, and Fame, and Fantasy !

Among the occurrences of this period, there was one which
caused him much conflict of feeling ; this was the removal of the
Rev. Dr. Eaton to Burlington, N. J., in compliance with an invita
tion from Bishop Doane, to take a prominent situation in St. Mary's
Hall, an institution established by the bishop for the education of
the daughters of the Church. The call to this important and
responsible post was indeed a high and well-merited testimony to
the worth of Dr. Eaton, and as such, was most welcome and grati
fying ; but to his younger brother personally, and to the general
interests of the Church in Boston, it was a severe privation. From
the time of his first settlement as rector of Christ Church, he had
been permitted to look up to Dr. Eaton, his immediate predecessor
in the cure, not only as a venerated father and brother in the min
istry, but as a highly valued and esteemed counsellor and friend, on
whose judgment and opinion be felt as if he could always rely with
the most entire confidence. Dr. Eaton having also occupied, for
several years, the post of city missionary, in which his labors were
abundantly blessed, his removal could not but be considered, in
both respects, as a serious calamity. Writing on the day before his
removal, he says, " This breaking up of the doctor makes us all
sad, and me, especially, homesick. We shall accompany him, if
not to the ship, at least to within three hours' ride of it ; and I
shall not wonder if some natural tears are shed on that occasion."
Accordingly, he notes in his diary, the next day, that a party of

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 199
clergymen and others accompanied the doctor and family, and took
leave of them at the railroad station house.
This change in his clerical associations, taken in connection with
other circumstances of a discouraging nature, produced a moment
ary depression of his spirits. While he was treated personally
with every mark of respect and cordiality, he discovered some indi
cations of restlessness and want of harmony among a few promi
nent members of his flock ; and tliese local jealousies and dissen
sions affected unfavorably the best interests as well of the pastor as
of the people. Though his own essential wants were decently pro
vided for, there was so little unity of effort among his people that
the pecuniary affairs ofthe parish were much neglected, and suffered
to run into a state of embarrassment. Under the pressure of these
untoward circumstances, he was drawn, as a matter of course, to
seek relief by unburdening himself to his father. In a confidential
letter of May 8, he freely states all his difficulties, and suggests the
possibility that some change in his pastoral relations may be expe
dient, if not necessary. He even intimates that he might get over
all his scruples about entering once more into an editorial engage
ment, or, if considered less objectionable, miglit be induced to teach
a few pupils in the higher branches of education, in connection with
the more appropriate duties of his office. He concludes, however,
with expressions of strong attachment to his parish, and a hearty
desire to avoid, if possible, any disruption of their mutual ties.
But these unpleasant reflections were interrupted, and his mind
happily diverted, by a train of intervening circumstances. He had
already projected a visit to New Haven, where he hoped to meet
his brother from Albany. But while this visit was still in suspense,
he was induced to change his purpose by a summons to Burlington,
to attend the ordination of Mr. E. G. Prescott, a young gentleman
of Boston, for whom he entertained a high regard, and to whom he
had granted the customary facilities for obtaining orders. Mr. Pres
cott had been pursuing his theological studies with Bishop Doane,
and desired to receive his ministerial commission at his hands. He
writes, with reference to this invitation, " He is very urgent on his
own account, and brings pressing invitations from all our warm
friends there, to have me accompany him ; and as I have not the
slightest inducement to decline, I have consented to do so. I am
laboring just now under a severer cold than I have had for many
months, and it is quite desirable that I should have some relaxation
at once. Then it is more than a year since I have been in New
Jersey, and perhaps I should not find again, this season, so conven
ient an opportunity."
On his way to Burlington, he dates from the Astor House, New
York, May 18 ; and after giving an account of his passage thus far
with Mr. Prescott, he says, " We have fine rooms in this magnifi-

200 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
cent house ; but this, you know, is not the kind of thing that the
heart yearns after, and can do nothing towards satisfying the crav
ings of the immortal mind. I should be lonesome and homesick
to abide here, and would not give one day in the humblest abode
of domestic happiness for a whole life to be spent in these mansions
of gloomy splendor."
On the following day they proceeded to Burlington ; and on the
21st, being Trinity Sunday, he preached both parts of the day, for
his friend Doane, in St. Mary's Church. The ordination of Mr.
Prescott took place on the 25th, and on this occasion he had the
gratification of presenting the candidate. On the 28th, among many
pleasant things, he writes, " A great change has come over the spirit
of my dream since the morning we embarked for New Jersey.
Every thing here is verdant and vernal, and it is impossible for the
spirit to resist the influences which they combine to produce. St.
Mary's Hall is a perfect establishment of the kind, and every thing
works to a charm. . . . Such bright and sunny faces I have
seen nowhere, of late, as on the banks of the Delaware ; and I doubt
whether Dr. Eaton ever enjoyed himself as he does now."
He still lingered at Burlington until after the session of the dio
cesan Convention ; and then, on the 2d of June, took his departure
for New Haven, by the way of New York, and arrived on Saturday,
the 3d. Though complaining much of fatigue, he was persuaded
to preach in both churches on the following day, besides attending
a Bible class in the evening. The remainder of the week was
spent very pleasantly in visiting his friends, until Friday, when he
thought it his duty to return to his parish. Remaining at Hartford
over night, he addressed a letter to his mother, from which a few
passages are selected, to show his lively appreciation of the beauties
of natural scenery : " 1 cannot say that I ever enjoyed the ride
more in this direction. The richness and luxuriance of the vege
tation exceed any thing that I have seen on this route before. The
variety of scenery is very considerable. Even the lowly meadows
of North Haven are glorified with the most beautiful green, and the
river winds about in a way which makes it worthy of being famous.
The church is the crowning ornament of a most picturesque land
scape. All the old shady haunts on the back side of East Rock,
towards Whitneyville, were in their best array, and brought back
many interesting associations. The bold ridges about Meriden lifted
up their verdant sides to the eye iu a most inviting manner ; and
many a traveller, in search of the picturesque, has gone many a
weary mile to see what was less worth the labor. Long reaches of
meadow and interval, with streams and rejoicing vales, Greeted the
eye from every ascent, and set the poetical temperament all astir.
In short, I felt proud of old Connecticut, as the birthplace of my
father and my mother, and wished she might have half as much

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 201
reason to he proud of me." But if this be poetry, he does not
close without something of deeper import: "I have been most gra
ciously favored, dear mother, thus far, and feel that I have done
right in returning to my duties this week. I should have been glad
to have been with you longer ; but we must be content in this world
with momentary gratifications, and be willing ' to meet to part.' A
time will come, I trust, in a better country, when your son will be
ever with you, and all that he has will be thine."
Of the salutary effects of this journey, and of the manner in
which he entered anew upon his duties, he must be allowed to speak
for himself. It may be remarked, however, that if he had gathered
any new strength in his absence, he found abundant occasion for
the employment of all the energies both of his body and his mind.
His next letter is dated on Monday morning, the 12th of June : " I
am once more immersed in this region of rheum and fogmatics,
and north-easter anthems. I was weary and chilled when I reached
here with the roughest rides from Hartford, the atmosphere being
severe enough to make a fire as agreeable as in early winter. My
first impressions were those of homesickness. Every thing was in
such grating contrast with all that I had left, and seemed to symbol
ize cold and ungenial hearts. Let me do my dear people, however,
no such wrong. The delight which they express at my return ought
to stifle every murmur of discontent. . . . On the whole, I
cannot express too strongly the satisfaction whicli my visit has given
me, both at the time and in the retrospect. I have gathered a
treasure house of precious memories and thoughts, to cheer the
mind, when it feeds upon itself, in the hours of loneliness and soli
tude. I feel as if I had accomplished much in a brief space of
time, and can hardly realize that it is but three weeks since I left
the city. ... I had a very refreshing rest on Saturday night,
which placed me far above the need of any aid on Sunday. The
services of the day were fatiguing, the more so that I felt obliged
to undertake the third service at Jamaica Plains."
On the following day, he addressed a letter to an esteemed friend
at Hartford, with whom he had spent a few hours while on his
recent journey. One of those veins of pleasantry, which are often
found in his private correspondence, is selected, by permission, from
this letter : " Mr.  will read with interest in the papers the
account of the Irish row in Broad Street. Brother  was
in the midst of it, and described it as a most exciting scene. I
reviewed the seat of the war, this morning, with him, and he
showed- me the place where he was tumbled by the crowd over a
tar barrel, and made himself redolent with all sorts of low-water
smells. Had he been finished by an accidental brickbat, the story
would not have told so well on his tombstone. Besides the broken
windows, you might know by the heaps of feathers in the streets
26

202 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
that there had been some foul play. B  said he had been
inquired of as to the merits of the case, but could not, for the life
of him, see any merit in it at all."
Apologizing for a little delay in his next letter, he says, " If it
had been as easy to execute as to plan, I should have prepared my
letter early this morning. But, to adopt the figurative idiom of the
East, Thoughts are the sons of heaven, Words are the daughters of
the earth. The former fly through the universe while the latter are
walking across the street." The meeting of the Convention was
at hand, and he was much interrupted by the gathering together of
the clerical and other members ; while tbe preparation of a sermon
for the occasion seems to have caused him no little anxiety : " In
the intervals, that dreaded Convention sermon is to be prepared, at
least a portion of it ; and I shall not breathe freely until that duty
is discharged. I am only astonished at myself, that, having such
an unaffected horror of being placed in such a predicament, I did
not at once decline the appointment. By the time that you receive
this, however, it will all be over, and I shall claim the warmest
congratulations of all my correspondents." These expressions of
self-distrust were doubtless perfectly sincere and heartfelt ; but they
were entirely groundless. The sermon met with general approba
tion ; and his friends spoke of it in such complimentary terms, that
he could account for it only on the ground of undue partiality.
In his diary of July 8, he records the departure of the Rev. Mr.
Boone on his foreign mission, and speaks of having presented him
with a copy of Reble, in whicli he had inserted some lines of
poetry. Of these lines it is not certain that any copy remains ; but
the following stanzas, which are found in a manuscript collection
without date, seem so appropriate to the occasion, that they are
inserted in this connection : —

THE MISSIONARY'S FAREWELL.
The signal is made from yon mast o'er the trees,
Which nods to the billows, and beckons the breeze :
The anchor's upheaved, and the sails are unfurled,
To carry him forth to the ends of the world.
And now the near headlands already float by,
And the half-shrouded cottages swim in his eye ;
And a thousand past joys are recalled by the view,
Which his bosom can never, O, never renew !
At length he puts forth from his own native bay,
And the bark of his country sweeps southward away;

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 203
And the heart of the messenger inwardly bleeds,
As each object grows dim on the shore, and recedes.
How can he refrain from the strong burst of tears,
As the land of his forefathers fast disappears,
As the mountains and hilltops grow dusky and dun,
And turret and spire fade away one by one !
But his bosom, alas ! shall more bitterly ache
O'er the tenderer ties which that parting must break ;
And the tears will, in spite of his manliness, start,
As affection's full tide rushes back on his heart.
But for these though the flesh in its weakness may yearn,
His spirit is willing, he would not return ;
His orders are onward, 'tis his to obey ;
He dare not decline, and he dare not delay.
And the day is soon coming those friends to restore,
Whom he loveth not less, but his Savior the more,
When the faithful to death shall receive their reward,
And together partake of the joy of their Lord.
With him, when our own weary voyage is past,
Be the haven of happiness entered at last,
In that " far better country," undarkened by sin,
Where the shouts of the ransomed shall welcome us in !

At this period, he seems to have entered with renewed ardor and
energy into the interests of his Sunday school. From his diary we
learn, that, on Sunday, the 9th, in addition to the full services of
the day, with a baptism, he spent several hours in personally super
intending and instructing the children of the school ; and on the
following day, writing on the subject to a lady of Hartford, with
whom he was in correspondence, he says, "I am glad to tell you
that my heart warms more to that portion of pastoral duty than
ever of late ; and I deeply regret that any supposed inaptitude for
the work has so long prevented me from giving it, personally, its
portion in due season. I intend in future to lay myself out more
largely in that field, being well assured that our most glorious har
vest, for time and eternity, is to be looked for from the blessing of
God upon faithful Sunday school instruction. I have many things
to discourage me in my parochial relations ; but here, I feel as if
the hopes of the Church were secure from disappointment."
Some notes are next found of a sort of missionary visit to Bangor,
Maine, which appears to have been undertaken in pursuance of an

204 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
arrangement with some of his neighboring brethren of tlie clergy.
" It is an arrangement," he says, July 24, " which does great vio
lence to my inclinations and habits ; but I cannot escape from it
without the reproach of the rest of the clergy, who have taken
their turns."
His next date is from Bangor, August I. Those who are ac
quainted with the flourishing city of Bangor, as it is now, will hardly
be able to realize that, in 1837, it was in such an unpolished and
unfinished state. But such is the fact ; and it is a fact that goes to
show, among thousands of others, the amazing growth and improve
ment of our country. " According to promise, I proceed to give
you some light from the East. We left Boston in the excellent
steamboat Bangor, on Friday afternoon at five o'clock, several of
our parishioners accompanying us to the ship. The whole week
had been bright and serene ; but the skies were overcast before we
went on board. The passage to Portland was made somewhat
unpleasant by rain and rough weather ; but the Bangor is a capital
sea boat, and it did not prevent our reaching there by four-o'clock
the next morning, the usual hour. Thus far I suffered nothing
from seasickness ; but on the way from Portland to Penobscot, but
few of the passengers were exempt, and I did not make an excep
tion. The close of the day, however, was fair and bright, and the
passage up the river exceedingly beautiful. The scenery reminds
you, in places, of the Hudson, the shores being very bold, but rude
and more uncultivated. We had a glimpse of an Indian encamp
ment in the woods, and saw an example of their management of
their canoes. Two amphibious animals, with hats on their heads,
and gowns, which made it difficult to distinguish their sex, and a
glittering plate of metal on their breasts, were paddling along with
great swiftness and dexterity, leaped ashore like cats, shouldered
their canoe as if it had been an egg shell, and carried it high and
dry on the beach. I mention this incident' because it was more
novel and interesting than any thing I saw, and belongs to a class
with which I had no previous acquaintance. I enjoyed this part of
the sail exceedingly, and felt repaid for the unpleasantness of the
preceding part of the trip. The appearance of the coast is very
much as I had expected — innumerable islands, of all sizes, con
stantly in sight, iron bound and ever green. The substratum is
solid rock, and bristling above with the dark verdure of the fadeless
cedar, pine, and hackmatack — this last peering above all the rest,
like so many millions of spires and pinnacles. We reached Bangor
after nine o'clock on Saturday evening, and landed under cover of
the dark. I found it, in the morning, a large place, with every
mark of high civilization brought in close contact with extreme
rudeness. It is built on tvvo clayey hill sides, with a creek running
between which they call ' the stream.' Beautiful houses, furnished

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 205
in the most ambitious style, and long ranges of stores like those of
Boston. In the mean while, the streets, in many instances, remain
to be yet laid out and graded, and you have all the land before
you where to choose your mode of approach. After a little rain,
it is Gobson's choice ; and it is equal to Catskill or Hartford, as a
town of mud. The church is glorious for situation, and perfect in
beauty. ... I held three services on Sunday, which were all
attended by highly respectable congregations ; and I think there is
a fine opening for the Church, if a suitable clergyman could be
secured." He returned to Boston, after spending a second Sunday at Ban
gor, and on Monday, 12th of August, writes as follows : " I took
my leave of Bangor with all the impressions which I had before
expressed to you. . . . From Bangor to Old Town, the head
quarters of their water power and prosperity, there is a railroad
running through some twelve miles of their interminable pine for
ests, which look as if they would never pine away. It was quite
' a caution ' to see their revolving saws cut off the pine logs like a
flash of lightning, and making shingles as fast as you could ' shake
a stick.' We rode on Monday to Augusta, sixty-five miles, with
excellent roads, driver, coach, and horses, and were carried through
some scenery that was surpassingly fine. Augusta is a beautiful
town, more rural and unsophisticated than Bangor. The Capitol
is a substantial edifice of solid granite, and after good models,
though rather too short and narrow. On Tuesday we passed
through Hallowell and Gardiner, along the Rennebeck, to Bruns
wick and Portland, where we passed the night. This day's journey
was also exceedingly interesting. The next morning we resumed
our ride, and reached Portsmouth early in the afternoon.
The last day of our travels was the pleasantest, and would have
been under any circumstances, did it see me safely returned. We
rode to Newburyport in the morning, . . . and arrived at
Boston about eight o'clock in the evening, and found all well, though
I have since had but little cessation from pastoral duty. Yesterday
I preached thrice, attended a funeral, and administered matrimony."
A painful point in our narrative now occurs — painful inasmuch
as it gives the first intimation of some disease that was insidiously
preying upon his constitution. There is nothing of this intimation
in his letters ; but in his private diary, on the 31st of August, and
in two repeated instances in the course of ten or fifteen days, he
mentions that twitching of the muscles of the cheek and of the eye,
which, in after years, caused him so much trouble and anxiety. At
the same time, he was frequently suffering from extreme nervous
excitement and violent headache. The physician, to whom he
applied for advice, prescribed bathing and prussic acid. To what

206 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
extent he employed either of these remedies, or with what effect,
does not appear. They may have afforded him some partial or
temporary relief. But no permanent cure was effected ; and it is
well known, that, during his whole life, he was subject more or less
to similar affections, and that, for three or four years before his
death, they proved a most grievous trial. Not a doubt can remain,
that these were the incipient indications of that terrible malady,
which, working gradually and almost imperceptibly upon his system,
finally terminated, as in an instant, his valuable life.
The following pleasant lines, written after a visit to Medfield, and
sent to Mrs. Wheelock, are found in his manuscript collection : —

WHEELOCK COTTAGE, MEDFIELD.
O, worthy of the artist's skill,
And passing fair to see,
That humble cot beneath the hill,
That shadowing willow tree ;
The places where, with hook and line,
We dabbled in the pond,
From morning sun to hungry dine ;
And all that lies beyond.
But who shall paint the inmate there,
The pleasant face that made
The scene around us doubly fair,
And sunshine in the shade,
Whose cheerful age, reproving me
When I at " luck " repine,
Seems, in its soothing harmony,
So like to " auld lang syne " ?
A thousand happy days and blest
May Heaven award thee still,
Dear friend, before thou go to rest
With those upon the hill ;
There mayst thou meet, in love's embrace,
The friends thou here hast known,
And see each fond familiar face
As happy as thine own.

Having made arrangements for meeting his brother Sherman at
New Haven, he left Boston on the 2d of October, and, taking the
route by the way of Worcester and Hartford, arrived at his father's

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 207
house on the 3d. The long-anticipated meeting of the two brothers
was very much enjoyed, and their time was delightfully spent in
visiting their friends, and in going over the old scenes of their
boyish days. The visit included two Sundays, on each of which
he preached, both in Trinity and St. Paul's. This service was ren
dered reluctantly, for he was suffering from hoarseness and indis
position ; but his friends were urgent, and he was ever ready to
gratify them, at almost any personal sacrifice. He had designed to
remain for several days longer ; but, on the 17th, he was unexpect
edly summoned home, a case of pastoral duty requiring his pres
ence. To calls of this kind he was not capable of turning a deaf
ear ; and so he hastened away, leaving all these enjoyments, to
enter again upon his arduous labors. Of these it is unnecessary to
speak, except by adding to the records of this month the following
extract of a letter, of October 31, in allusion to one of the passing
incidents of the day : " Early yesterday, I procured a pass to admit
me to the talk between Governor Everett and the braves from the
other side of the Mississippi, who are now our guests, and who are
making us, I fear, their laughing stock for life. You will see in
the papers the particulars of the interview, but no description can
do justice to the reality. Most of the poor creatures have colds
and other illnesses, from exposure and the severity of the weather.
Some have finely-moulded figures ; and their shoulders, backs, and
arms are as full, round, and solid as so many pieces of statuary.
Their style of oratory is bold and impassioned, and nothing can
exceed their self-possession. They are dismally disfigured, however,
with all sorts of paint, and look like very ugly customers to meet
with in the greenwood or on the prairie. We sat from half past
twelve to two waiting for their appearance, and the best part of the
day was spent on their entertainment. They have literally turned
the town topsy-turvy since they have been here. Men, women, and
children have been thronging around them, at their lodgings, in the
street, and during their public exhibitions. They were to leave, as
I understood, to-day for Albany, and the nuisance will be abated."
He commences his next letter, of November 7, by saying, "This
ought to be a very choice letter, as it is written on my birthday."
But in what follows a sufficient apology is furnished for any short
comings in this respect : " A great press of that kind of pastoral
duty vvhich creates most anxiety, and wears most heavily on the
spirits, prevented my writing yesterday. On Saturday evening, after
burying myself in my study, from dark till ten, I was sent for to
visit a dying child, an interesting little girl, who expired before I
left the house, soon after midnight. This was not a very good
preparation for the duties of communion Sunday ; but I was carried
through very comfortably, besides performing the marriage cere
mony. On Monday I commenced my weekly epistle, but was

208 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837.
interrupted by various calls in the morning, and attended a funeral
at noon, accompanying tbe remains to Mount Auburn."
In another part of this letter he says, " To-day I have had a
hymn to write for the opening of the Lunatic Hospital at Worcester ;
Dr. Woodward having applied to me, I presume, at the suggestion
of one of my crazy parishioners, who has been an inmate there.
I was not in a very poetical vein, and cannot tell till I have
slept upon it whether or not it will answer the purpose. If I find
that I am not ashamed of it in the morning, I will send you a copy."
The copy was not sent, but is found in his manuscript collection,
and from theuce is transcribed, without any fear that his friends
will be " ashamed of it."

HYMN FOR THE DEDICATION OF THE HOSPITAL CHAPEL,
AT WORCESTER, NOVEMBER 8, 1837.
The dearest room of all this pile,
A pile to mercy dear,
Lord, hallow with thy gladdening smile,
And grant thy presence here.
To Thee its walls we set apart,
Who, in our flesh enshrined,
Art pledged to heal the broken heart,
And feel for human kind.
Be here, our great perpetual Guest,
O Savior, night and day,
To give the heavy-laden rest,
And bear their griefs away.
With that still voice that melts the'soul
In soothing prayer and psalm,
The tumult of our thoughts control
To thy divinest calm.
Here tune anew the jarring sense,
Life's uncoiled springs rewind,
And garnish for thy residence
The mansions of the mind ;
Ascend, O Son of God, thy throne,
Bow reason to thy sway,
Till in thy light we find our own,
And darkness turn to day !

1837.] CHRIST CHURCH. 209
Among the remaining records of this year, nothing requires
special notice, with the exception of the following tribute, inscribed
to the ancient city where several years of his boyhood were spent.
It is copied from the Albany Argus, in which it was originally
published.

ALBANY.

- " Oenus umlc Latinum

Albanique patres atque alt.e Makia Rom.e.*-
Instinct with filial love I come, O ancient Albany !
My childhood's faithful nurse, to pay the tribute due to thee ;
For in thy dear domestic haunts I learned my earliest song,
And manhood's riper minstrelsies to thee of right belong !
When, after many weary years, again to thee I drew,
And suddenly from Greenbush side the landscape burst to view,
How thrilled my pulse, how swelled my heart, upon that lofty height!
For never in my life, methought, saw I a fairer sight.
Thy gilded spires and pinnacles rose glittering in the sun,
And each familiar edifice I counted one by one,
As, row on row descending steep, they met the river shore,
Which, sheathed in winter's icy mail, with masts was bristled o'er.
Though sharply blew the northern wind, so brilliant was the scene,
So shone the noble stream that lay in glassy bonds between,
I felt thou wert a spectacle of stirring power to see,
And proudly hailed thee as mine own, O ancient Albany !
Yet brighter than that spectacle, that prospect's fair array,
Or nature in her purity that round about me lay,
A dearer vision chained my soul more touching far than these,
And peopled all the pictured past with busy memories.
O, let me in my weakness give these childish feelings way,
That rush upon me as I weave my humble verse to-day,
Nor wonder if the spells of youth, strong as enchantment's chain,
Should bind me to the single theme, and quite absorb the strain.
What troops of stirring images my brooding fancy fill,
Oft as I turn my glistening gaze to Capitoline Hill !
As fast they rush as when, of yore, with many a reckless boy,
I glided down its dangerous slope, and " snatched a fearful joy."
Where are the partners of those feats, the striplings one and all,
Who sat with me at Wisdom's feet in old " Uranian Hall,"
Ere yet the genius of the place her fostering care withdrew,
To gather fitter audience there, and fairer though less few r
27

210 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1837
How small their living number now ! how many in their grave,
The gallant and the generous, the beautiful and brave !
And hearts are broke and eyes are dim which then with lustre shone,
And each stands in the other's sight unknowing and unknown.
While thus our cycles sadly pass, and flesh and blood decay,
How good to know that all we prize has not yet passed away !
That while earth's generations change, as years have come and gone,
Still Freedom's precious heritage of human rights lives on !
Still peers the selfsame Capitol upon the city's brow,
Though loftier to my boyhood's eye, yet not more dear than now ;
Nor less illustrious on its rolls its statesmen's glory shines,
True to their common country each, though ranged in adverse lines.
In democratic majesty again around me rise
Its long processions of the past, the mighty and the wise,
The men of reverend name who there discharged their honored trust,
And filled my soul with wisdom's words and sentiments august.
There first I marked his high career, whose early merit won
The choicest of his epithets, " the people's favorite son ;"
Who to the triumph in the van led on the Empire State,
And now in highest sphere adorns his country's consulate.
Long may the Alban fathers there in Roman virtue sit,
And tire its echoes with the strains of eloquence and wit,
And, fast emerging from the cloud and din of factious war,
Make our symbolic orb of day rise still " Excelsior ! "
May God and good St. Nicholas maintain our old renown,
From worthy sire to worthier son to be transmitted down,
And keep beneath their tutelage till time shall cease to be,
The trophies of thy founders' fame, O ancient Colonic !

To those whose memories run not back to the time when the
foregoing was written, a word or two of explanation may be neces
sary. The allusion to the winter sports of the boys will be better
understood by recurring to the great change which has taken place
on the " Capitoline Hill," since that period, by the enclosure of the
beautiful park at its summit. Before this, there was a regularly-
graded descent from the front of the Capitol down the whole length
of State Street, nearly to the river. And this was the grand scene
of the " fearful joy " of the boys. The whole descent was often
covered with sleds, coursing down amid the teams and sleighs which
were constantly passing through the whole length of the street.
The old "Uranian Hall" was situated in Pearl Street, and was for
many years one of the principal schools of the city ; but it has
long since given place to one of the most celebrated female acade-

1838.] CHRIST CHURCH. 211
mies in the country. The "Colonie," which was then a suburb,
and is now one of the wards of the city, still belongs in part to the
immense estates of the late Stephen Van Rensselaer.

1838.

" I open the new date of A. D. 1838, with my best wishes that
it may be a happy year to all — to us that live and to those that
die." Thus does he commence his first letter on the first day of
the new year ; and he closes the same letter in a manner clearly
indicative of his abiding sense of the close connection of the affairs
of this life with the great responsibilities of eternity : " I should
like to have been with you on Christmas day ; but we continue to
be with you in spirit as often as the day passes, and when any thing
of interest is occurring there or here. May God preserve us in
health and peace to meet again soon, and prepare us for a union
in that eternal state where there is no separation of the ties that
bind us together."
Some portions of this and other letters, written during the month,
relate almost exclusively to the proceedings of the Convention of
the Eastern Diocese, which held a special session in Boston at this
time. In the transactions of this Convention, which called out
much dissension and party feeling, the rector of Christ Church, from
his immediate and local associations, was constrained to bear a part.
But as he acted with a minority, he felt no responsibility for the
results. Of these results it is unnecessary now to speak. They
are matters of public record, and ought not to be mingled with the
personal history of one who would have gladly avoided the collision
into which he was brought on this occasion.
Of his personal history one item here occurs, on which retrospec
tion is painful. January 8, he writes, " My Sundays are getting to
be a little more laborious, as I have engaged more earnestly in the
Sunday school, and have commenced my third service." In accord
ance with this intimation, in a subsequent letter the following record
occurs : " I have to report three full services yesterday, with com
munion, baptism administered at two several times, and stirring up
the Sunday school, and find my lungs sound this morning, and spirits
good, and every thing to be thankful for." At the very moment,
however, when he was thus voluntarily and deliberately undertaking
these new and more arduous duties, and expressing himself thus
gratefully for his preservation, he was actually suffering, as appears
from his private journal, from frequent attacks of severe headache,

212 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
and from great weariness and lassitude. He restricted himself
almost habitually to a plain and spare diet, and resorted to such
simple means of alleviation as his own judgment dictated or bis
physician prescribed. At the same time, his buoyant spirits kept
him always on the alert, and stimulated him to return, with renewed
ardor, to his labors, whenever he felt relieved from any momentary
indisposition. Travelling, and some relaxation of his labors, were
kindly aud judiciously recommended to him. He therefore obtained
leave of absence, for a short time, on several occasions during the
year, visiting his friends at New Haven and elsewhere, bearing his
part in the commencement of Washington (now Trinity) College
at Hartford, and, in the autumn, attending as a clerical delegate the
session of the General Convention at Philadelphia. , But these
exercises, instead of affording him the relief he so much needed,
only changed the scene of his exertions, and gave a little variety to
his labors. As often as the Sundays returned, he was of course
invited to preach ; and his friends, imputing his objections rather to
his modesty than to his inability to gratify their desire, generally
prevailed by their importunities ; and hence he was seldom or never,
when abroad, exempt from preaching twice, or even thrice, on a
Sunday. But to return to a more pleasant theme ; he thus greets the
return of a festival which was seldom suffered to pass without
notice : " St. Valentine's has passed me again, for the thirtieth time
and more, and I still find myself, like old Herjick in one of his
ditties, ' without a mate.' I did not let him go, however, without his
honors ; but as the article was bona fide, though nothing to boast
of, and inserted in a young lady's album, it would not answer to
send it to the Argus. If the old saint, whose favor I have so long
sought, continues to cut me in this way, I shall probably cut him
in return."

VALENTINE.

 " Nee me meminisse pigebit Elis*
Dum memor ipse mei, dum spiritus hoa reget artus.
Pro re, paucri Uiquar."

No season this for leaves and flowers ;
And wandering birds who seek a mate,
'Mid wintry winds and snowy showers,
Find all forlorn and desolate.
They come too soon, or Spring too late :
A caution, as it were, to me,
Lest I should rashly tempt my fate,
And disappoint my destiny.

1838.] CHRIST CHURCH. 213
My heart, so like the season, cold,
Has lost its once elastic spring,
And warns me I am quite too old
To go again 'philandering ;*
And yet, could youth replume its wing,
And love inspire the thrilling line,
Not Petrarch's self such stores should bring,
To win thee for his Valentine.

On the first Sunday in May, having returned from New Haven,
after an absence of about three weeks, he reentered upon his duties,
" well, but weak," participating in three full services. And thus
did he continue his labors, week after week, with no other relief
than the occasional aid of a visiting or resident brother. This
assistance was always welcome, and was gratefully acknowledged,
conscious as he felt, that, without it, his duties must have greatly
overtasked his powers.
At the Massachusetts Convention, which assembled at Boston on
the 19th of June, he was "laden with many honors;" among these
were his election as president of the standing committee, and his
appointment as one of the delegates to the General Convention.
These honors came unsought, and were probably unexpected on his
part, more especially the latter. He was flattered by the distinc
tion, and was already anticipating the gratification of meeting his
father on the occasion, and of spending the whole session in his
company ; but the thought immediately crossed his mind, that an
elder brother, the Rev. Dr. Morss, of Newburyport, who had failed
of his election, was better entitled to the honor ; and he forthwith
proposed to relinquish the seat in favor of the doctor. The offer
was received with the kindest feelings on the part of Dr. Morss,
but as promptly declined. He subsequently writes, therefore, " Dr.
Morss declines taking my seat in the General Convention, and it
is settled that 1 go myself."
July 3, the heat of the weather being extreme, he alludes, in his
letter and in his journal, to the lassitude and weariness produced by
his "over-work on the preceding day of rest." He sought repose
and refreshment in poetical musings in the quiet cloisters of the
church ; but this afforded him only a temporary relief. He longed
for a retreat to some cooler region. The Falls of Niagara and the
White Mountains presented equal attractions ; and he immediately
wrote to his brother in Albany, proposing an excursion to one or
the other of these delightful places ; and, " to stimulate him with
the right sort of sentiment for the enterprise," he speaks rapturously
of the picturesque and romantic scenery of the White Mountains,

214 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
and calls his attention to the following glowing passage in Howitt's
Book of the Seasons : " Now it is delightful among mountains.
Mountains ! how one's heart leaps up at the very word ! There is
a charm connected with mountains so powerful, that the merest
mention of them, the merest sketch of their magnificent features,
kindles the imagination, and carries the spirit at once into the bosom
of their enchanted regions." But as this proposed arrangement
failed, his pleasing anticipations were not realized ; and he remained
at his post until the latter part of tbe month, when he made a short
visit to New Haven, and attended the Commencement of Washing
ton (now Trinity) College at Hartford. He was absent from his
parish but one Sunday, and this was spent at New Haven, where, as
has been already remarked, he preached on both parts of the day.
The session of the General Convention was held in Philadelphia,
and his attendance as a delegate called him from his parish from
the 3d to the 22d of September. Here was no diminution of his
labors ; for he who undertakes to represent any portion of the
Church, in such a body, must not hope for much rest or relaxation.
The occasion, however, afforded him much enjoyment. He met
many of his clerical brethren and other friends, and had an oppor
tunity to form an acquaintance with the bishops, and the clerical
and lay delegates, from all parts ofthe country, and passed his time
very pleasantly. On his first arrival in Philadelphia, he dropped a
note to a friend, which sufficiently explains the circumstances under
which it was written : " St. Andrew's Churchyard, September 6. I
arrived a few moments ago from Burlington. The doors are closed,
and not a soul to be seen. Wandering about the yard, and in the
conference rooms, a half sheet of paper, with pen and ink, seem to
be a direction to me to address myself to the duty of answering
your last letter. 1 recognize the omen. . . . The place in
wliich I write is a queer one. On the desks and seats about me,
the principal book is 'Henshaw's Collection of Revival Hymns,'
while the Prayer Books are very scarce. There is one on the
desk, the only one, I believe, in the room. • Jesus I know, and Paul
I know; but who' is Henshaw, that his Collections should supersede
the Collects 1 "
The following touching stanzas derive much of their interest
from the peculiar circumstances under which they were written. It
was during the intermission of the services of the Church, on Sun
day, the 12th of August, while reading in the book of Job, with
Clarke's Commentary, that his attention was drawn to a striking
illustration of the passage, " Man giveth up the ghost, and where is
he ? " After some remarks on this passage, the commentator adds,
" There is a beautiful verse in the Persian poet Rhosroo, that is
not unlike the saying of Job : —

1838.] CHRIST CHURCH. 215
'I passed by the burying-place, and wept sorely
To think how many of my friends were in the mansions of the dead.
And in an agony of grief I cried out, Where are they ?
And Echo gave answer, and said, Where are they ? ' "
This apt illustration was sufficient to awaken his poetic imagi
nation, and the result may be related in his own language : " It
arranged itself," he says, " without any effort of my mind, but as
it were naturally, and without doing the least possible violence to
Clarke's version, as it stands in the first stanza ; and, in the even
ing, I added the second, to show, by contrast, the beautiful light
vvhich Christianity sheds upon the same dreary scene."

NATURE AND REVELATION.
IMITATED PROM THE PERSIAN OP KHOSJROO.
I wandered by the burying-place,
And sorely there I wept,
To think how many of my friends
Within its mansions slept ;
And, wrung with bitter grief, I cried
Aloud in my despair,
"Where, dear companions, have ye fled ?"
And Echo answered, " Where ? "
While Nature's voice thus flouted me,
A voice from heaven replied,
" O, weep not for the happy dead,
Who in the Lord have died ;
Sweet is their rest who sleep in Christ,
Though lost a while to thee ;
Tread in their steps, and sweeter still
Your meeting hour shall be ! "

In a copy of the Book of Common Prayer, presented as a
" gage of amity " to his highly-esteemed friend, Captain Joseph P.
Codthouy, who was on the eve of embarking in the exploring
expedition, he inscribed the following beautiful and appropriate
lines, from Southey's " Madoc : " —

216 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.

THE LITURGY.
" O, hold it holy ! it will be a bond
Of love and brotherhood, when all beside
Hath been dissolved ; and though wide ocean roll
Between the children of our fatherland,
This shall be their communion^ they shall send,
Linked in one sacred feeling, at one hour,
In the same language, the same prayer to HeaveD,
And each remembering each in piety,
Pray for the other's welfare ! "

To this the following original, and no less beautiful, Sonnet was
returned in reply : —

IO REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL.
Whether I sail beneath ungenial skies,
Through glacial seas, or 'mid those gorgeous isles
That image forth man's forfeit paradise,
By fragrant Ind, where ceaseless summer smiles,
O friend beloved ! thy " gage of amity "
A sacred monitor shall ever be ;
And often as its holy lines are scanned,
As exiled thus from home and love I stray,
In heart revisiting that fatherland
Where, thronging up on each glad " holy day,"
Of Christian friends a dear familiar band
Meet in one ancient fane, their vows to pay —
To the all-hearing One my lonely prayer
For thee and thine shall rise with those ascending there !
J. P. C.
These were communicated to his father, with permission to
publish them in the Chronicle of the Church ; and in a subsequent
letter, after speaking of Captain Couthouy in the most affectionate
terms, as an intimate friend and parishioner, who, being attached
to the scientific corps of the exploring expedition, had just left for
Norfolk, where he was to embark, he adds, " He will be a regular
correspondent while he is absent ; and I shall feel a peculiar interest
in their progress on his account." The biographer has in his
possession the principal part of the correspondence which passed
between the two friends, not only at this time, but during several

1838.] CHRIST CHURCH. 217
subsequent years, until death dissolved the earthly tie, which had
been so warmly and mutually cherished.' And he will feel justified
in availing himself of the privilege of interweaving with his narra
tive some portions of this correspondence. And perhaps a more
appropriate place or occasion for transcribing one short extract
cannot be chosen than the present. Writing to his father, Novem
ber 12, he says, " I have just heard from my near and dear friend
Couthouy, attached to the exploring expedition, dated Madeira,
September 16. He writes in good health and spirits. With some
of his messmates, he had performed the service in the state roo,m,
the weather not admitting of prayers on deck, with all the chants
in due form. ' Fox,' says he, ' plays a good flute, and we made
quite a decent choir. I have heard performances often, in a church
we wot of, not much superior. We had a very delightful time ;
and never did I feel more strongly what a bond of fellowship our
incomparable liturgy is, to those familiar with its wholesome and
comfortable words. We ceased to be strangers from the moment
that we discovered, by a sort of free-masonry, that we were children
of the same beloved mother. If such fellowship is a privilege on
shore, what a blessing is it, cut off as we are from the enjoyment
of the ordinary means of grace, to be able thus to take sweet counsel
together, and recall the time when we went forth with the multi
tude, in the voice of praise and thanksgiving, among such as keep
holy day ! '"
To this letter he replied, under the date of the " cloisters of
Cripplegate, November 10 ; " and after touching on a variety of
topics, he says, " It gives me the truest pleasure, my dear friend, to
see your religious affections in such warm and vigorous exercise,
and your heart, as ever, in the right place. May it ever be so ;
nor can I doubt that He who hath begun a good work in you will
continue it unto the end. Your accounts of your Sundays have
especially interested me ; and I rejoice to know that you carry the
Church so closely with you." He here commences the citation of
one of Reble's beautiful hymns, but immediately adds, " I must not
fill my page with Reble, however more valuable than any thing
which I can write, while you have his inestimable volume at hand,
and can take up the passage where I leave it. In the cherished
fellowship of those common devotions, let us not fail often to meet
each other before the mercy seat, with an affection which distance
cannot impair, time cannot change, nor even antarctic region chill."
Again, on "All Saints," he writes, "I find myself often fingering
my old globe, to endeavor to identify the spot where you were said
to be floating; and we bring you near in spirit, walking by faith,
and not by sight. I hope you are by this time in full nightly view
of the glorious Southern Cross. May you conquer in that sign.
Where this will reach you is more than I can conjecture ; but it is
28

218 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
a comfort to know that you will still be, with us, under the hollow
of that almighty Hand, who is the hope of all the ends of the earth,
and of those that remain in the broad sea."
Two very interesting letters from this highly-valued correspondent
may here be noted ; the one commenced on board the U. S. ship
Vincennes, Sunday, November 11, and finished at Rio de Janeiro,
November 25 ; and the other dated at the latter place, on Christmas
Eve. These letters are chiefly filled with details of scientific dis
coveries, and with matters of a private, domestic, or familiar nature ;
but there are a few sketches of religious incidents, which may with
propriety be transcribed. In his first letter he says, "We had ser
vice this morning, and a sermon from our Lord's rebuke to Martha,
Luke x. 42. We have only three besides myself to join in the
responses, but we all sit together ; and as I closed my eyes, and
listened to the solemn and comforting language of our Common
Prayer, (it is sweet to think that it is common,) it would not have
been difficult to imagine myself worshipping in our ancient temple,
with the voice of ' mine own familiar friend ' sounding in my ears."
From Rio de Janeiro, November 25, he says, " To-day, being St.
Cecilia's day, there was a high celebration at the church of her
name, which I attended. The church itself is a fine one, and, on
this occasion, was more than usually imposing in its appearance, &c.
Upon the grand altar, which was resplendent in gold and jewels,
there were seven rows of wax lights arranged pyramidally, and
about one hundred and twenty in number, some of them ten or
twelve feet in height. A large number of priests officiated at high
mass, all in the rich dresses appointed for festivals, which, as usual,
were changed several times during the service. This part of the
ceremony, however, had but little interest for me, having seen it
repeatedly abroad, and because it always has a theatrical aspect.
But the music ! you should have heard that. It was superb. I
thought it fine during mass ; but afterwards, the choir performed
the whole of the Messiah. I was completely carried away. I
can only say, that if St. Cecilia could hear such strains, and envy
could enter her celestial abode, she would throw her harp aside.
My enjoyment was considerably marred, however, by the uproar in
front of the church, where they had tar barrels burning, the smoke
of which swept in, defiling with its Cimmerian steam the sanctuary
where clouds of incense were floating up before the altar ! Then
there was a continual roar of musketry, squibs, &c, and, every now
and then, the boom of cannon, sounds of war and tumult, strangely
blending with the angelic harmony which, within, accompanied the
praises of Him who was the Prince of Peace. And this is Romish
devotion. Surely 'darkness hath covered the earth, and gross dark
ness the people.'" Again, in his letter of Christmas Eve, he writes,
" Yesterday 1 visited several of the churches a second time. They

1838.] CHRIST CHURCH. 219
have most of them a venerable and imposing aspect externally, being
built of a dark gray stone. The interior of one or two is very
chaste and beautiful ; but the greater part are tawdry and theatri
cal. One that pleased me very much had been pointed out to me
as the Imperial Chapel, but, as I have since ascertained, incorrectly.
I visited the latter yesterday. It is about the size of our church,
the floor laid with rough boards, while the area in front (on enter
ing which, all uncover their heads) is paved with marble. The
walls are painted white, and gilt abundantly. The roof is supported
by spiral or twisted pillars, the flutings of which are gilt ; and the
whole of the chancel is richly gilt and decorated with paintings in
fresco. Between the pillars are shrines containing images of sev
eral saints, before whicli were burning large candles, in massy ten-
branched silver candlesticks. Think of a coarse wooden image of
the Virgin Mary, rigged up in an old dusty and faded green and
crimson silk robe, with silver halo stuck round her head, broad and
flat, like the rim of a Shaker's hat, and dandling a little naked wax
doll in her arms, on which she looks as ferociously as some old
portraits I have seen, gazing at the nosegays in their hands. I have
seen these things before, but never was so struck with them as now.
It is hard to say whether the prevailing feeling is a sense of the
ludicrous or the impious. These are the disagreeable points in
Roman Catholic churches. To go on with the Imperial Chapel :
The intervals between the pillars are filled by crimson damask
hangings, extending from the roof to the floor, vvhich must have
had a very gorgeous appearance when new, but now remind me
by resemblance of an old curtain in another church far away.
There are two pulpits, one on each side of the chancel, and just
above them are two small niches in the wall, for the imperial fam
ily, much like the stage boxes in a theatre. There are no pews in
any of the churches here, no chance for a comfortable nap during
the sermon. All have to stand where they best can, and kneel on
the bare floor. It has certainly a very devotional effect to enter
one, at other than service hours, and see here and there a person
kneeling in prayer, amid the stillness and ' dim religious light '
pervading the place, with no one but the Hearer of prayer to witness
their worshipping. Another thing, which struck me very forcibly,
was the total disregard of rank or station manifested in these
churches. The rich and poor, the noble born and the poor slave,
meet there on a footing of perfect equality before the common
Father of all, which, in our republican country, would not be toler
ated for a moment. I have seen the field officer, in his gorgeous
uniform, enter and kneel by the side of the half-naked slave, with
out the one dreaming of changing his position, or the other deeming
himself at all entitled to precedence or notice, in the temple of Him
in whose sight all flesh is vile. This is as it should be ; and we

220 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
might, in our favored land, well learn from them the lesson it
teaches. I have been much struck with the perfect equality vvhich
exists here between the free blacks and the whites. There are
black doctors, black lawyers, black priests, black generals, and, to
make the resemblance complete, black devils. Midnight has just
struck; the people outside are firing guns and squibs, and illumi
nating as we should for the ' glorious fourth.' The two towers of
'Our Lady of the Chandeliers' (Nossa Senhora dos Candelabros)
are hung from top to bottom with thousands of little lamps, vvhich
produce a most beautiful effect. I wish you, my dear friend, a
merry Christmas."
April 30, while on his visit to New Haven, he writes to his friend
Couthouy, giving an amusing account of his visit to the halls of
the Yale Natural History Society, and expressing his usual gratifi
cation amid the scenes of his home. He adds, however, " In sober
earnest, my heart begins to yearn towards the spot where my high
est duties lie. I long to be with you in those beloved precincts to
which our sweet chimes invite, and around which so many sacred
associations cluster. There the memory and the imagination most
delight to dwell. There may we keep holy day together, my dear
friend, and unite in the pleasant feasts of remembrance. My days
pass delightfully here indeed, but idly and monotonously. Sundays
are indeed an exception, when I do some violence to my feelings by
preaching in the synagogue where I was brought up, and where a
prophet is apt least of all to be had in honor. Still it affords my
father a relief, and others an apparent satisfaction, which make it
contribute indirectly to my owm" He concludes with the following
narration : " My stay has been enlivened by the celebration of the
two hundredth anniversary of the landing of our fathers. The
incense, in its usual quantity, was burnt at the shrine of the pilgrim
saints, more than enough to make St. Patrick or any of the Roman
canonization blush. ... No Quakers were hung in effigy;
and the orator was in keeping with the stereotyped representations
with which we are so familiar at the east. I should like to have
had him taken a few hints from a certain sermon delivered in our
church by Bishop Griswold, from the text, ' Cause them to know
the abominations of their fathers ; ' in which the old gentleman
exhibited a good deal of the stern spirit of Ezekiel. A younger
brother of mine pencilled down on the margin of the printed stanzas
(to the tune of God save the Ring) the following terse addition,
which was not performed by the choir : —
' They through their noses sung,
And sundry Quakers hung,
And Baptists too ;

1838.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 221
They spilled the Indians' blood,
And, for their poor souls' good,
They drowned them in the flood
Without ado.'
" Judging from the effects of the last two centuries, how many
more centuries may be expected to elapse before their strong marks
upon our character shall be quite obliterated ? "
August 25, in a letter to Rev. Dr. Strong, he says, " At the last
meeting of the Board of State Missions, the clerical members were
appointed agents to visit all the parishes in the state, with a view
of awakening a more general interest in its objects, and of ascer
taining by personal inquiry the prospect of the parishes receiving or
requiring aid. The whole west was assigned to me. ... I
desire, before entering on this field, to confer with the clergy and
leading men of those parts, as to the desirableness or expediency
of such an agency. It appears to me that an agent with such
powers must trench very materially on the prerogatives of the
bishop. . . . Every clergyman should be an agent, each in his
own parish ; and I have been so much in the habit of thinking that
we need no other, that I fear 1 should not enter sufficiently into the
spirit of the work which has been assigned to me. Of this, how
ever, we can speak when we meet face to face." At a later date,
he says, " I am reluctantly obliged to give up the western expedition.
Brother Ballard expressed my own opinion when he observed, that
though he should be happy to see me among them, yet he thought
that every clergyman was the best and cheapest agent in his own
parish." It appears from his letters, that, in the early part of this year,
he promised his friend Chapin, the editor of the Chronicle of the
Church, to furnish him from week to week with a simple, and as
nearly as possible literal, version of the Psalms of David. He
proceeded in this undertaking as far as the eighth Psalm. Partly,
however, on account of the errors of the press, but chiefly from
other causes, he abandoned the plan, remarking, in a letter to his
father, " I have no doubt that I should be more at home in a metri
cal arrangement. I may try some day, just for my own solace.
But I shall not print any thing of that kind ; nor do I aspire to get
up any thing to be used in churches, lest I should bring myself
under the scourge of the epigram : —
' Sternhold gave pious people qualms,
When he translated David's Psalms :
But how much worse, alas ! our fate,
To hear them sing what you translate ! ' "

222 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
Again, he writes, " I have almost made up my mind to the pre
sumptuous and daring attempt, in which so many of the best have
failed, of giving a close and simple version of the Psalms in metre.
I shall not, however, do so with any idea of publishing at present,
but chiefly to imbue my own mind with more of the spirit of the
inspired Psalmist. I am surprised, on examination of the English
translations, to find them so bald on the one hand, and so loose and
paraphrastic on the other." How far this purpose was carried out
is not known. A few specimens only are to be found, either in
print or in manuscript, and these will be introduced into this work.
The following communication, which he sent for publication in
the Chronicle of July 20, is a just, though severe criticism on a
new " Red-Letter Edition of the Prayer Book," which had then
but just appeared. It is here transcribed entire, with an original
inscription appended as a note : —
" From the long advertisement in your paper, I was led, per
haps, to form too high expectations with regard to the edition of
the Book of Common Prayer with the red rubrics. Certain it is
that I have been greatly disappointed. The enterprise, as first
announced, was much to my taste, as I had long been of the mind
of Chaucer's ' Clerk of Oxenford,' ' who had rather have at his
bed's hedde twenty bookes in black and red, than robes rich, fiddle, or
salterie.' I have seen manuscript missals, ' on rich creamy vellum,'
more than four hundred years old, whose gorgeous vermilion dyes,
and glossy raven black, were fresh and bright as if they were exe
cuted but yesterday. Volumes of rare beauty are now around me,
printed before the time of the Reformation, whose unfaded red letter
puts to shame the blurred and diluted tints of this boasted 'topo
graphical novelty.'* It is impossible, indeed, for the slender Italian
letter to produce the same effect with the broad surface of the
beautiful old English type ; and in this respect, as well as in those
of paper, ink, and arrangement, our modern publishers might take
lessons of the first fathers of the art. ... If Rnight's splen
did pictorial Prayer Book, now in the course of publication in

* On the leaf of an old Hebrew Bible, executed in much the same style, is
the following inscription : —
Open now the Hebrew page,
Sleek and glossy spite of age ;
Unsophisticated text,
By no Masorite perplext ;
Where each character you see
In its stern simplicity,
Upright, racy, square, and bold,
Symbol of the truth they hold.
As the eye delights to truck,
Row by row, the letters black,
Say, is not each martial line
Worthv of the Word divine ? W. C.

1838.1 CHRIST CHURCH. 223
England, were but printed in black letter, with the rubrics blushing
out between, and bound in embroidered velvet, with silver clasps
and corners, and sets of many-colored ribbons, it would be indeed
a jewel of a book. My disappointment with regard to the American
volume is not, of course, because it does not realize this beau ideal,
but because it entirely fails in the great purpose for which it was
intended, viz., to insure the rubrics being well red ! In their present
faint, dim, and watery lineaments, 'they lead to bewilder, glimmer
to betray.' I hope that this error will be corrected in the next
edition, that a better color will be put upon the rubrics, and that
they will yet shine out  ' In goodly vermil stain,
Like crimson dyed in grain.' "
It is pleasant to record the following acknowledgment, which is
found in a letter to his father, November 27 : " The Rev. Mr. Price
sent me a token of his brotherly regard, last week, which I have
great reason to value on every account, being a small leather case,
containing a miniature communion service of silver, manufactured
in England, for administering the Lord's supper to the sick. If
they have any fault, they are a little too much in petto, and might
be mistaken by the profane for playthings. Accompanying this was
a copy of the new quarto edition of the Miles Coverdale Bible,
(1535,) just published in England, and intended to be a fac simile
of the original, page for page, &c. To the theological antiquarian
it is almost inestimable."
The following anecdote of the elder John Adams, noted in his
journal, may be original. It was related to him by Major Russell.
When the bust of Mr. Adams was put up in Faneuil Hall, the old
gentleman pronounced it a very good likeness, but thought it rather
ugly. He contrasted his own face with that of Washington, and
observed that Washington ljiad one feature to which he owed his
ascendency : "Mouth shut close — mine always open."
Early in December, having made a short visit to New Haven, he
writes from New York, while on his return home, giving a minute
account of a private musical entertainment, at which Dr. Hodges
presided, and during which a considerable part of the English
cathedral service was performed, Dr. Wainwright officiating as
clergyman. Of this performance he says, " It quite transported me
for the time to the ' high-embowered roof,' and the rest of the scene
described by Milton. The music al.one would have been worth the
journey, and I feel as if I had been very much favored in being
here at the time." He adds the following : " Dr. Hodges told a

224 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1838.
good1 story of Adam Clark, that, after preaching on some famous
charity occasion, for whicli very great musical preparations had
been made, he closed by observing, ' The elders of .the congregation
will now please to pass about the plate, while our friends in thc gal
lery will amuse themselves by singing an anthem! "'
On the following day, having arrived at Boston, he duly acknowl
edges " the hand of God's good providence, by which he had been
safely led, on his going out and coming in."
Writing again on the 17th of December, he says, " I found, on
attempting the services yesterday, that I had a little cold ; but it did
not prevent me from preaching three times, attending Sunday school
examination, and baptizing a child, besides drilling my choir in their
Christmas music. Every thing looks well about the old church, and
a good spirit prevails. Nothing could be pleasanter than the sweet,
rich chime of its morning bells. . . . Our singing is getting
to be a very model of simplicity and good taste. We attempt
nothing but what is familiar as household words, and the whole
church grows vocal as with the song of birds. On Christmas, we
shall not allow our friends in the gallery to amuse themselves with a
single anthem."
He did not write again till Friday of the following week, Decem
ber 28, and the reason is thus given : " The fact that we had no
Monday this week, [Christmas fell on Monday,] though it did not
affect my sensibilities as to the duty of writing, did greatly interfere
with the power of carrying the duty into execution. I believe I
wrote you last on Monday week, and gave you a good account of
my health and performances. I could not have written as much
the next day, if indeed I could have written at all. The latent
seeds of a cold, probably contracted by the fatigue and exposure of
my journey, broke out on Monday night into most abundant fruit,
and I was scarcely able to keep about for a day or two." He
recruited, however, and adds, "I was able to get ready for the
confirmation. On Sunday I baptized five adults and five children,
officiated all day, and presented thirteen candidates for confirmation
at evening. The services awakened great interest, and the tone of
religious feeling which pervades the parish is very encouraging."
The next day, being Christmas, " was," he says, " a glorious day,
and every body seemed to enjoy it greatly. All our churches were
crowded, our own particularly."
The record of the present year closes as it opened, in the same
devout and humble spirit. Dating on the last of December, he says,
"Annus Domini 1838 takes his leave of us with great serenity.
. . . The review ofthe past, of course, is calculated to give rise
to mingled feelings, in which shame, and pain, and mortification
have their share. Still I am not sure that the last has not been one
of the happiest years of my life, inasmuch as my quiet and contem-

1839.] CHRIST CHURCH. 225
plative habits have been less disturbed, the nature of the interior life
has been more developed to my mind, and some little progress, I
trust, by the divine grace, made on the way to the heavenly Zion.
By the same grace, I hope to be able to give a better account of
myself, both in temporals and spirituals, should my life be spared
yet another year."
He does not conclude, however, without indulging in a little
stroke of pleasantry. Among his Christmas and New Year's
presents, he had received from a fair friend a magnificent bronze
standish, " which," he says, " from its constant use, cannot fail to
keep her pleasant remembrance before me. I wish I could hope
that my sermons might be any the better for it ; but it is too true,
as Swift says, — ' That not the desk of silver nails,
Nor bureau of expense,
Nor standish well japanned, avails
To writing of good sense.' "

1839.

There are but few incidents to distinguish this from the preced
ing year. He was seldom absent from his parish, and day after
day brought the same monotonous call for labor. From the extent
and variety of his occupations, he was allowed but few hours for
repose ; and even these hours, as appears from his journal, were
often disturbed by severe headache and nervous restlessness. He
indeed found time, though this time was but too often borrowed
from the moments which ought to have been devoted to rest, to
carry on, as heretofore, an extensive correspondence. His weekly
letters to his father and family friends, however, were at this period
more brief and sketchy than usual, and were chiefly confined to
private and domestic concerns. But he also kept up, in the mean
time, as regular an interchange of letters with other correspondents,
and especially his friend Couthouy, as the distance by which they
were separated, and the difficulty of securing a safe conveyance,
would permit. From these letters might be drawn, were it deemed
expedient, many passages of deep and affecting interest ; but the
biographer must lay an unwilling restraint upon his inclination, and
content himself with a very few extracts, merely as specimens of
the pleasant and familiar style in which these devoted friends con
ducted their correspondence. On both sides, the letters bear a
29

226 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1839
strong impress of the character of the writers. The pleasant nar
ratives, the thrilling adventures, and the scientific details of the
absent professor, are all mingled up with the most heart-touching
reminiscences of his distant home, and of the church in which he
had been for years a most devout and exemplary worshipper and a
worthy communicant ; while the resident pastor, besides responding
with the kindest sympathy to every sentiment of piety and devotion
of his absent friend, enlivens every sheet with those characteristic
traits for which his familiar epistles were always remarkable. But
he must be permitted to speak for himself. Writing on the 9th of
February, after speaking of his frequent communications, and ex
pressing a fear of their want of interest, he says, " It is a comfort to
know that you will attach to them all the value which they deserve.
According to the Latin verse, they whose course is over the sea
change their hemisphere, but not their hearts. There will be always
something of yours which does not ' suffer a sea change ; ' so we
believe, and we scribble on, in the confidence that it will throb
with a true Yankee sympathy at the sight of any messenger from
this cold and cloudy clime. . . . It is now deep into the night ;
and being sentimentally inclined, I call to mind a passage of Words
worth, so aptly adapted to our relative positions, that I cannot for
bear transcribing it, with sundry accommodations, for your benefit.
You will read it, I have no doubt, with as much pleasure as it
gives me. ' On this night
Of solemn loveliness, I think on thee,
My brother, and on all which thou hast been.
Nor seldom, if I rightly guess, while there
Muttering the verses which we muttered first
In Christ. Church cloisters, through the midnight watch,
Art pacing to and fro the vessel's deck
In some far region, here, while in mine ear
The breezes murmur with a sea-like sound,
Alone I walk my room — for aught I know
Timing my steps to thine, and with a store
Of undistinguishable sympathies,.
Mingling most earnest wishes, for the day,
When we and others whom we love shall meet
A second time in Salem's happy courts ! ' "
Under date of the " cloisters of Cripplegate," on the festival of
St. Barnabas, he writes, " If this link in the chain which binds, as
it were, the two extremities of the earth together, ever reaches
you, I trust it will be in some grateful and pleasant haven of the
Southern Pacific, where you are refreshing yourself from the toils

1839.] CHRIST CHURCH. 227
and exposures of your long and perilous voyage, and where for the
time, removed from all antarctic and antiscorbutic associations, your
memories and hopes are full of home. . . . Farewell, my dear
friend ; keep your anchor within the veil.
' Thou Framer of the light and dark,
Keep this thy servant in thine ark.
Amid the howling wintry sea ;
He IS IN PORT, IF HE HAS THEE.'
" So prays Reble, and so prays yours affectionately, W. C."
July 31, he thus affects to describe the soporific effect of the ex
treme heat on the people and preacher, on the Lord's day : " Our
efforts are rewarded by nods of approving listeners, and mutatis mu
tandis, we realize that rich scene in Cowper, —
' Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk,
The tedious rector drawling o'er his head,
And sweet the cierk below.'
" The slumbers of the day anticipate, however, those of the even
ing. Our nights are restless, and we toss to and fro till the dawn
ing of the day. To crown our suffering, the terrible insect begins
to wind his horn, who cannot be content to bite without bragging
beforehand, and whose instincts have not changed since they were
described by Homer, as being
1 Such as prompts the fly, which oft
From flesh of man repulsed, her purpose yet
To bite holds fast, resolved on human blood.'
"What are all the trials of heat and frost in your compass of
sea and land, what all the perils of waters, compared to those
which little men invent to plague themselves ! Meanwhile, all na
ture looks gloriously. Never was there a promise of a more abun
dant harvest. ' He covereth the heavens with clouds ;
He prepareth rain for the earth ;
He maketh grass to grow upon the mountains :
The pastures are clothed with flocks :
The valleys also are covered over with corn ;
They shout for joy ; they also sing ! ' "

228 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1839.
December 19, speaking of the following sonnet, which his friend
had constructed on the heights of the Andes, he compliments him on
its merits, and apprises him that he had sent it to the " Chronicle "
at New Haven, for publication : —

SONNET,
WRITTEN ON THE ANDES, JUNE 21, 1839.
Glory to God on high ! the anthem raise !
Where mortal voice hath never stirred the air,
Let the first sounds that break the silence there
Make thee, bleak mountain, vocal with His praise,
Who in his strength hath set the mountains fast,
And girded them about with awful power,
To stand so long as time himself shall last,
Towering sublime, till that tremendous hour
When from his presence they shall melt in fear
Like wax. O thou that sittest evermore
At the right hand of God the Father, hear
Our humble prayer, that when these mountains hoar
Shall quake to their foundations, we the shock
May sheltered bide in Thee, our sure Salvation's Rock !
J. P. C.

It is a pleasure to add, in this place, a few extracts from one of
the letters of Mr. Couthouy. It is dated, —
" U. S. Ship Vincennes, in Orange Harbor, (south coast of
Terra del Fuego,) March 3. I write this, literally, from one of the
ends of the world. Orange Harbor is a beautiful cove on the south
side of Nassau Bay, about fifty miles north-west of Cape Horn,
and is about five or six miles in circumference, shut in on all sides
by lofty hills, except a narrow entrance at the north-east end. Near
the toast, these are round, and covered with a low growth of birch
and beech, the only trees found here ; but half a dozen miles inland,
they assume a very bold and rugged aspect, frequently towering
from five hundred to a thousand feet, in an almost perpendicular
wall, their summits broken into sharp, irregular ridges, with deep
chasms between, in the bottom of which snow lies the year round.
On the 23d of February, I made an excursion, in com
pany with Dr. Pickering and Mr. Brackenridge, to a peak, about
six miles from the ship, in a southern direction, called the Sentry
Box, from a slight resemblance to one which it exhibits in some
points of view." After giving a description of the very fatiguing
jaunt by which they arrived at the spot, with a series of scientific

1839.] CHRIST CHURCH. 229
observations, he proceeds : " About 2, P. M., we reached the Sen
try Box, which we found to be an irregular conical mass, some
eighty feet in height, on the crest of a steep ridge. We ascended
it, and ate there our bread and cheese, taking a glass of wine to the
health of our friends at home, and the success of the expedition.
There was just room for all three to be seated, and on the north
side we could look down, almost perpendicularly, eight or nine hun
dred feet, into the valley declining to the coast. Seeing a large,
ragged, and apparently higher cliff, about a mile and a half north
eastward, we determined on making an attempt to ascend it."
This proved to be a most laborious and perilous undertaking ; but
by great perseverance, the object was effected ; and his own graphic
description of the scene will show how well they were rewarded
for their trouble : " The prospect here amply repaid our exertions.
To the northward was Orange Bay, looking like a little cove, hard
ly fit for boats, and our squadron reminding ine of those delicate
ships of the toy-shops, on a mimic sea of glass. To the south-west,
as far as the eye could discern, stretched ranges of lofty hills, hoary
with the accumulated snows of thousands of years. Eastward was
Hermit Island, with the southernmost land of America, Cape Horn,
distant some fifty miles, standing out in bold relief against the sky,
while the coast, for many miles on either side of us, was spread out
like a map, showing numerous bays and harbors, similar to that se
lected by us. One of the most beautiful features in the view was
the soft, rosy tint of the snow-covered mountains, where the sun
shone upon them. There are some over seven thousand feet high.
We saw the smoke of several fires kindled by the natives at differ
ent points of the coast, but none in our immediate neighborhood."
After some further scientific observations, he again proceeds : " We
estimated the height of this peak at about sixteen hundred feet
above sea level, and nearly three hundred above the Sentry Box,
which has been supposed the highest. Previous to leaving, we
tumbled several blocks of stone over the precipice, which, in gen
eral, were dashed into atoms long ere they reached the bottom. At
last our ambition was excited by a large mass of at least a ton's
weight, which seemed nicely balanced on the very edge. After
about fifteen minutes' hard work, we succeeded in detaching it ; but
we came near detaching ourselves also — an arrangement that had by
no means entered into our calculations. The smaller stones, resting
against it, probably, since the flood, inclined still to keep it com
pany. So far it was very well, as the more the merrier ; but as
we were seated on them, they seemed disposed to have us accom
pany them also, which, as having no interest in the race, except as
mere spectators, we could not think of doing ; but to avoid it, we
had literally to claw out of the scrape for our very lives. It was
no joke at the moment, I assure you. How foolish we should have

230 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1839.
felt, to be tumbling over the rocks, one after the other, fifty or a
hundred feet at a time, here a head, and there a leg, with nobody
near to cry bravo, when we made an extra jump ! The effect of
the falling fragment, though, was magnificent, and at the same time
terrible, from the resistless fury of its course. D6wn it went,
smoking and crashing, hurling with tremendous bounds from crag
to crag, and steep to steep ; ever and anon dashing off projecting
rocks, even larger than itself, which, in their turn, as they scoured
along, tore away others in their passage. Sometimes, with a single
bound, they leaped down a precipice of a hundred feet, striking
the ground with a crash that reverberated among the hills like the
roar of heavy artillery, while the thousand fragments into which
they shivered rattled onward with a sound like a volley of mus
ketry. Occasionally, however, a block would continue unbroken
to the valley, perhaps a thousand feet below, tearing a wide path,
and prostrating the shrubs and small trees that were in its way, as
if they were spears of grass. It was really a grand sight : and
there we stood, on that giddy peak, perfectly wild with the excite
ment." Having already spoken of the great amount of his daily labors,
and their probable effect upon his health, the reader may perhaps
be surprised to learn, that he was led, by his irrepressible zeal and
devotion to the interests of the Church, to commit himself, on cer
tain contingencies, to incur new cares, and a still greater weight of
responsibility. Early in the present year, overtures were made to
him to undertake, in whole or in part, the editorial charge of the
" Christian Witness." This paper was then in the course of publi
cation in Boston ; but from its partisan character, and from the ac
knowledged incompetence of its editor, it had failed to secure the
confidence or satisfy the expectations of the public ; and it was
hoped that by placing it under the joint direction of clergymen of
somewhat different views, it might yet be sustained. He did not at
once reject this proposal, though the idea of a divided responsibility
would have been extremely repugnant to his feelings. With all his
settled aversion to an editorial occupation, he was willing to take the
matter into consideration. On due deliberation, and after suitable
consultation with his friends, he finally expressed his consent to take
charge of the paper, on certain prescribed conditions. These con
ditions would have given him the chief control of the publication ;
and as the original projectors and founders of the paper were not to
be persuaded to relinquish their share of the management, the offer
was declined or, iu other words, no further advances were made
on the subject ; and, providentially, the rector of Christ Church was
left to pursue his proper and legitimate labors, without the additional
weight of this yoke of bondage.

1839.] CHRIST CHURCH. 231
In the course of the year he frequentlyalludes, in his correspond
ence, to the inconveniences attending a bachelor life ; and among
many vague and oblique hints on the subject of matrimony, he
plainly intimates his settled conviction, that it is not good for him
to be alone. He often felt the want of a home that he could call
his own, and especially in the hours of weariness and loneliness, and
when he could not seek the comforts of society abroad. He wished
also to have it in his power to exercise hospitality to his brethren
and friends in his " own house," even though it were a " hired one."
It was not, however, till near the close of this year, that he began
to speak so definitely on the subject, as to satisfy his friends, that
he had seriously resolved to change his condition.
During this year, he allowed himself time only for three short
visits. Two of these were given exclusively to his parental home ;
but a portion of the third was spent in Burlington, and devoted to
bis well-beloved young friend and brother, the Rev. Benjamin D.
Winslow, who was then prostrate with incurable sickness, and who
soon after, at the age of twenty-five, ended his short, though bright
career of eminent usefulness, by a most triumphant death. The
history of this young and faithful servant of God has been written
elsewhere ; but with the subject of this memoir his life was closely
blended, and the circumstances of this last interview are too full
of precious memories to be passed over. Mr. Winslow was a na
tive of Boston, and had been brought up, baptized, and admitted to
the holy communion, under the pastoral care and instruction of the
rector of Christ Church ; and the warmest affection had always been
cherished between them. Winslow was at this time assistant minis
ter of St. Mary's Church in Burlington, of which .Bishop Doane
was rector. And now, at the moment of his extremity, when the
bishop was necessarily absent on official duty, his old friend and
pastor hastened to his sick chamber, to minister to his comfort, and
enjoy the sweet communion of kindred spirits. It appears from a
brief record in the rector's journal, that on the night of the 14th
of October, he watched with his young friend, that he was restless
and sleepless during the first part pf the night, and that they spent
much time in interesting conversation. Among other things they
called to mind the following passage in a letter from Sir Walter
Scott to Lord Byron, written November 6, 1813, and published in
Lockhart's Life of Scott : " Your lordship will probably recollect
where the Oriental tale occurs, of a sultan who consulted Solomon
on the proper inscription for a signet ring, requiring that the max
im which it conveyed should be at once proper for moderating the
presumption of prosperity, and tempering the pressure of adversity.
The apothegm supplied by the Jewish sage was, I think, admirably
adapted for both purposes, being comprehended in the words, And

232 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1839.
this . also shall pass away ! " Mr. Winslow now fell into a
state of calm repose, but afterwards roused up and remarked, that
his thoughts had arranged themselves in a few lines, which he would
trouble his friend, as his amanuensis, to write down from his mouth ;
and these are the lines thus dictated, and thus written. They are
lines of which any poet might be proud ; and, taking all the cir
cumstances into consideration, it may well be doubted whether any
production can be found of more touching pathos and beauty.

"THIS ALSO SHALL PASS AWAY."
When morning sunbeams round me shed
Their light and influence blest,
When flowery paths before me spread,
And life in smiles is drest ;
In darkling lines that dim each ray
I read, " This, too, shall pass away."
When murky clouds o'erhang the sky,
Far down the vale of years,
And vainly looks the tearful eye,
Where not a hope appears,
Lo, characters of glory play
'Mid shades : " This, too, shall pass away."
Blest words, that temper pleasure's beam,
And lighten sorrow's gloom,
That early sadden youth's bright dream,
And cheer the old man's tomb.
Unto that world be ye my stay,
That world which shall not pass away.

At the close of this interview, the journal adds, "He gave me
Archbishop Laud's Devotions, as a parting gift." And after uniting
in fervent prayer, the two friends separated, never to meet again in
this world. Of the sincere grief of the surviving friend and broth
er, his own language is the best index. Writing to his father on
the 25th of November, he says, " I received the melancholy
tidings of the Rev. Mr. Winslow's death, from Burlington, yester
day morning, and they have hardly been out of my mind since.
His death, like his life, was an example to us all. He was one of
the choicest spirits in the Church, and I cherish his memory in

1839.] CHRIST CHURCH. 233
my heart of hearts. Those beautiful lines which he dictated to
me the last night I spent with him, were his sweetest, swan-like
strains : — ' Death darkens his eye, and unplumes his wings,
But his sweetest song is the last he sings.'
" He will be ever in my thoughts, when we commemorate the
departed faithful, in that incomparable prayer for the whole state
of Christ's church militant." In a letter of December 2, he calls
his father's attention to an obituary notice of Mr. Winslow, written
by Bishop Doane, for the Banner of the Cross, and adds, " The
bishop intends to prepare an extended memoir of him, with a se
lection from his ' Remains,' which are of great interest, and in
vvhich labor of love I can do much to assist him. This sad loss
makes a perfect Abel Mizraim of Burlington. The bishop is com
pletely broken down by it, and well he may be ; for he will never
see such another. How well we all loved him, and how much we
loved him, could not have been known till we had seen the weeping
and grief which his death has occasioned."
The emotions awakened by this event were by no means of a
momentary or transient nature ; but for several of the coming years,
in his correspondence with his friends, and the relations or friends
of Mr. Winslow, he was in the constant habit of recurring, with
the deepest feeling, to this bereavement. About a year after, for
example, he acknowledges the gift, from a highly-esteemed rela
tive, of a copy of the Lyra Apostolica — " ever," he says, " to be
fondly cherished, for its own sake and yours, and more from the
value it acquired, as being the favorite companion of our beloved
Benjamin's last hours. . . . The little book has been a great
comfort to me in my lonely hours, and has served to bind us all,
hving and dead, as it were, together, and in the saints' communion.
The two beautiful pieces which Benjamin selected with so fine an
instinct are worth all the rest : indeed, there is nothing else like
them." Again, at a still later period, the subjoined elegiac
lines, dated at Auburn, on St. Paul's Day, 1843, were enclosed to
the same relative, and sufficiently show that the fountain of his grief
was still open : " I venture," he says " to send you these lines, utter
ly unworthy as they are of the theme, in token of affectionate re
membrance, in the midst of harassing duties, and with the hope,
that you will regard them with indulgence, for his dear sake, on
whom they were written, and for his sake, also, by whom they are
written." 30

234 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1839.

ELEGIAC — B. D. W.
In silence I have wept for thee, and with a grief sincere,
And conscious, dearest Benjamin, that " love was in arrear,"
But shrinking still, lest in thy praise I should myself commend,
So high in merit thou, and I so very dear a friend.
Else I had earlier witness borne, how, watching by thy side,
When thou the hour of thy release didst patiently abide,
At midnight, as the taper's light began like thee to wane,
Thou pouredst in my ravished ear thy last and swan-like stfain.
Like Baruch, when the prophet's lips glowed with unearthly fires,
I noted down the soothing words which peace divine inspires,
Preserving since, with hallowed care, thy oft-repeated lay,
So soon to prove its moral true, — " This, too, shall pass away ! "
We prayed and parted, when the dawn began too soon to break,
And dear the book thou gavest me, to cherish for thy sake,
And dearer still the pencilled words, the last I saw thee write,
In token of the Master's grace, " who giveth songs by night ! "
The vows thy youth had registered, ere yet it lost its dew,
Here, in my life's meridian day, I solemnly renew ;
And when, though following far behind, I've run my weary race,
May I, with thee, in better worlds, share in our Lord's embrace.

On the return of his thirty-fifth birthday, November 7, his mus
ings are solemn and affecting : " With regard to the past," he says,
" it is as hard to tell what has become of it, as it is to know what
awaits us in the future ; and yet it is a solemn thought, that all its
history is on the everlasting records, for good or for evil. Thirty-
five years more would carry me to the verge of the longevity as
signed to man ; and what is it, at most, but a handbreadth, to the
spirit whose faculties require to be exercised on subjects illimita
ble as eternity ? I find myself altered, yet the same ; and
appreciating, I trust, more and more, the value of time, as the
pivot on which our everlasting destinies turn. I should have been
disposed to turn the current of my thoughts into verse ; but my in
terruptions have been such as not to favor the inspiration requisite
for the highest order of composition, whether poetry or prose."
Pursuing the same idea, he remarks in a subsequent letter, alluding
to a promise to write in a young lady's album, " I cannot bear
to fill up  's book with my old rhymes ; and as for new ones,
I am not at all disposed to add to the stock of bad poetry." So

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 235
far as can be discovered, indeed, he appears to have written but
httle poetry at this time. Among his loose papers, however, is
found, under date of " Parsonage, New Haven, 1839," the follow
ing translation, with which the record of the year is closed : —

PRISON HYMN, BY MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS.*
Jehovah, my Savior,
My confidence Thou ;
O loveliest Jesus,
Deliver me now.
In closest immurings,
In cruel endurings,
My flesh and my spirit cry out after Thee !
I languish
In anguish,
And bending the knee,
Adore Thee,
Implore Thee
To liberate me.

1840.
This year is distinguished as one of the most eventful of his
hfe ; a year of change, and a year of great trial, as well as a year
of high enjoyment. An air of sadness pervades the opening rec
ords. During almost the entire month of January, he was afflicted
with sickness, and was under medical treatment. But he still took
upon himself some portion of the public duties of the parish, be
side the labor of an extensive correspondence. Writing to his
father on the Feast of the Epiphany, he thus alludes to a practice
which he had followed for several years, and which he continued to
the close of his life : " The last week has been one of unusually
polemn interest. New Year's day has ceased, with me, to be a day

* 0 Domine Deus,
Speravi in Te !
0 care mi Jesu,
Nunc libera me !
In dura catena,
In misera poena,
[Ab pectore imof] desidero Te !

Languendo, Gemendo,
Et genuflectendo,
Adoro,
Imploro
Ut liheras me !

f Interpolated to adapt it to the air of the Coronach.

236 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1810.
of much cheer. I see but few visitors, and it brings fewer gifts.
The arrangement of all my letters for the previous twelve months
calls up a review of all the incidents of that period, in such bright
or dark array as can hardly fail for the time to make us sadder,
if not wiser. Every revolution of the sort brings so many in
creasing warnings of instability, in my own personal experience, as
well as my daily observation, that I should be hardened indeed if
I could steel myself against the impression. I rather seek to yield
to it, and to make it most profitable, by God's grace, for the future.
. . . I said that I had but few gifts on New Year's day. I had,
in fact, but one ; but that one so elegant as rather to humiliate than
to gratify me. It was the most elegant writing desk, inlaid with
brass, that I have ever seen, with all the apparatus to correspond.
Beautiful, exceedingly ! It came anonymously, but I have no
misgivings as to the donor. . . . And now, what shall I say
more — for my time is up — but what you already know, but which
you will not be tired of hearing repeated for the thousandth time,
that you all live in my memory and love ; that I long greatly to see
you ; and that I hope this year will advance each and every one of
us, through Christ, on our road towards heaven. Amen."
Previous to his writing again, January 12, he had been prostrated,
by an increase of his sickness, for three or four days ; but on Sun
day, the Rev. Dr. Boyle, whom he styles his " dear and valued old
friend," and of whom he always spoke in terms of great veneration
and affection, " came to his relief." He adds, " For my own
part, I certainly say, that it is well to be sick. We should other
wise forget our helplessness, and our dependence on God, not only,
but on man also. As soon as I am able to travel, I shall set out on
my way towards you."
Two days later, he speaks of some improvement in his health,
and of his beginning to indulge his appetite, adding, " My dear
friend, Mrs. Sumner, has sent me a copy of Burgess's Version of
the Psalms, just in time to complete my list of luxuries ; so that,
while the body is repairing its strength out of the good things
which begin to pour in, I can solace my soul, and expel its evil pas
sions, by striking a few chords from the harp of David. Brother
B. is a true minstrel, and has elicited some graceful strains ; but
his version will not supersede any which are in use in the Church.
I was pleased to see that he has adopted the same reading whicli 1
gave in my translation of the cxxxiii. Psalm, and vvhich makes it
one of the choicest gems in David's coronet."
It may not be amiss to mention, in this connection, that he once
conceived the idea of throwing all, or a principal part, of the
Psalms of David into easy versification ; but he was anticipated
in this intention by Mr. Burgess, to whose work he often alludes in
his letters, as in the foregoing extract, in flattering terms. But

1810] CHRIST CHURCH. 237
though he relinquished his general plan, he left among his miscella
neous papers a few specimens, dated St. Peter's Parsonage, Au
burn, 1840 ; and a copy of his version of the first Psalm was com
municated to a confidential friend, with this remark: " It was made
long since. I was always ashamed of it, and never more so than
after reading the version of Burgess." *

PSALM I.
Happy the man who never walks
Where impious men repair,
Nor lingers in the sinner's way,
Nor takes the scoffer's chair.
But in Jehovah's ordinance
He finds a pure delight ;
Enriching thus the orisons
Of every day and night.
He like a fruitful tree shall be,
Set by the water's brim ;
His leaf shall never fade, and all
Is prosperous with him.
Not so the impious ones — like chaff
Swept hy the wind away,
They with the righteous shall not stand
Upon the judgment day.
They hold no place amid the just,
Whose way Jehovah knows ;
And every path of godless men
Shall in perdition close.

PSALM cxxxm.
Behold, how good it is,
How beautiful to see,
When brethren together dwell
In perfect unity.

* The Rev. George Btjegess was rector of Christ Church, Hartford, when
nis version was written. — He is now Bishop of Maine.

238 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. 11840.
Like perfume on the head,
Diffusing fragrance round
The high priest's beard, and o'er the robes
Whose fringes sweep the ground.
Like Herman's dews which melt
Fair Zion's summits o'er ;
For there Jehovah's blessing rests,
And life forevermore.

PSALM CXXXTV.
O, praise Jehovah, ye
Who his true servants be,
Jehovah praise !
Ye who to stand delight,
And worship in his sight,
Nor leave his courts by night,
Jehovah praise !
With hands uplifted high,
His oracle draw nigh ;
Jehovah praise !
Till he with holiness
His tribes from Zion bless,
And heaven and earth confess
Jehovah's praise!

PSALM cxxxvn.
By the waters of Babel we sat down and wept,
As we called our dear Zion to mind ;
And our harps that in joy we so often had swept
Now sighed on the trees to the wind.
Then they that had carried us captive away,
In mockery, challenged a song,
And wringing out mirth from our sadness, would say,
" Sing the strains that to Zion belong."
O, how shall we sing the ineffable song
In a godless and barbarous land ?
If the minstrels of Salem could do her such wrong,
Be palsied each cunning right hand.

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 239
Let my tongue to the roof of my mouth ever cling,
If aught else should its praises employ,
Or if Salem's high glories it choose not to sing,
Above all terrestrial joy.
Remember the cliildren of Edom, O Lord,
How they cried, in Jerusalem's woe,
Her ramparts and battlements raze with the sword,
Her temples and towers overthrow.
O, daughter of Babel ! thy ruin makes haste ;
And blessed be he who devours
Thy children with famine and misery waste,
As thou, in thy rapine, served ours.

PSALM CL.
"Hail ye the Lord I"
Hail him in his sanctitude !
Hail him in his highest height !
Hail him for his deeds of good !
Hail him for his matchless might !
Hail him in the trumpet's strain !
Hail him with the lyre and lute !
Hail him with the timbrel train !
Hail him with the strings and flute !
Hail him with the cymbal's ring !
Hail him with their loudest chord !
Hail him, every breathing thing !
Hail, all hail, the sovereign Lord !

On Sunday, the 26th, he was able to attend church, and bear
some part in the services ; and on the following day he writes, " It
was truly delightful to get to the house of God once more, after the
longest confinement to the house which I have had since entering
upon my ministerial duties, eleven years since. My text was, ' It
is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I might learn thy
statutes ; ' and I believe that I can enter in some measure into the
spirit and sentiment of the Psalmist. May God preserve me from
that worst of all afflictions, an affliction lost ! "
After a few days of unavoidable delay, he was enabled, on the
12th of February, to start on his anticipated journey homeward. He

240 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
was absent from his parish until the 29th, including two Sundays,
the first of which was spent with his friends at Hartford, and the
other in New Haven, and on each of which he preached twice, be
sides aiding in the other services. His visit was a source of great
mutual enjoyment to himself and his friends. His health appeared
to be perfectly restored ; and it will be seen, that on his return, he
was again ready to enter, with his usual zeal and activity, upon his
duties. Writing on Monday, March 9, he says, " On Wednesday,
(Ash Wednesday,) I was engaged in three services, appropriate to
the season ; one of them at Trinity, it being my turn to open the
Price Lectures. . . . Yesterday, I had three services, Sunday
school, and two baptisms, at separate times. Our congregations
are large, and much seriousness prevails." He proceeds here to
speak confidentially of some circumstances which evidently dis
turbed his feelings, and vvhich, doubtless, had much influence in
leading to the eventual change in his pastoral relations : " During
my absence, some over-kind friends were disposed to sow the seeds
of disaffection, and I returned just in time to tread them out. An
other week might have been too late. All is right now. Still this
single symptom makes some change in my views of duty ; and if
Auburn should be once more vacant, and fairly presented, I should
perhaps never be more disposed to remove to that ' loveliest village
of the plain.' Very probably, however, between this and Easter, I
shall find abundant cause to be satisfied to remain as I am. Other
wise, I shall be free to entertain proposals for transferring my rela
tions elsewhere." His allusion to Auburn was very natural. Dur
ing a former vacancy in that parish, his personal friends had en
deavored to obtain his consent to entertain proposals for a removal.
This, however, was declined at the time, and the place was other
wise supplied.
It is curious to learn, from this letter, what were his first impres
sions with regard to that great discovery, the daguerreotype,
which was then considered as among the deepest of mysteries, but
which has since become so common and familiar, that it ceases to
excite the slightest wonder : " I have found time, in the midst of my
engagements, to look at the daguerreotype, and to share in the
' first view ' given by the artist to ' some of the eminent men and
distinguished artists of the city.' In their way, the drawings arc
surpassingly fine ; and though on a smaller scale than I expected,
nothing can exceed the sharpness and distinctness with which the
minutest parts of the landscape are finished. The wonderful ap
plication of chemical agencies to produce, in a moment, what would
cost creative genius months of labor to accomplish with less accu
racy, makes an epoch in the history of art. The interiors, and
copies of busts, statuary, and engraving, as they appear about a

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 241
room, are the most satisfactory, if possible, though the different
views of Paris are said to be the very life itself. ... I do
not despair of ' royal roads ' for all purposes under heaven. I fear
we shall never find any easier way to heaven, or any new facilities
for working out our salvation."
On the 20th of March, he addressed a private letter to his father,
freely opening his heart on the subject, at which he had hitherto
hinted only in vague and indefinite terms. The time had come
when he could no longer hesitate as to the expediency and propriety
of entering into a matrimonial engagement. His partialities and
movements were doubtless closely watched and scrutinized by some
who thought they discovered a disposition on his part to make this
change in his domestic relations ; and he had no difficulty in tracing
to their intermeddling the slight disaffection which he had already
experienced. It seemed to him as if he could almost hear the half-
stifled mutterings, Why should he marry, and thus increase his own
expenses, and the burdens of the parish 1 Or, if matrimony were
expedient, why not take counsel of some one more capable than
himself of deciding who, among his acquaintances, would be most
suitable for a rector's wife 1 Whether he was right in these con
jectures, or not, they doubtless had their influence, perhaps an undue
influence, on his feelings.
On the 10th of April, he writes as follows : " My position in
the parish is stronger than ever. But my recent experience con
vinces me that, like all my predecessors, I have some spirits to deal
with that are not to be depended on. I should be, therefore, sorry
to have any opening closed against me, from any supposed reluctance
on my part to entertain it favorably. Let your correspondent, there
fore, be apprized that I am not given to change, that I have never
sought any, but that I feel at times a responsibility to God and the
Church for larger measures of usefulness than I have even any
prospect of being able to expect here ; and that I should be disposed
to listen, with a very partial ear, to any distinct overture from that
pleasant parish [Auburn] whenever it is vacant. Till then, of course,
nothing can with propriety be said. I respect the present incum
bent, and regret that his health is no better."
On the following day, he found it necessary to seek his father's
counsel, in consequence of a proposal received from Bishop De
Lancey, of Western New York. It appears that in a recent letter
written to the bishop, in behalf of a young brother, who was about
to visit his diocese, he remarked at the close, that he did not know
how soon he might have occasion to write on his own account. On
this hint, the bishop wrote as follows : " Our friend, Rev Mr.
Hackley, at Auburn, thinks of leaving his church, for the more
31

242 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
congenial occupation of teaching a school. I should be rejoiced to
see you in his place at Auburn. Would you listen to proposals ?
Can you visit the place and look at it 1 The salary is eight hun
dred dollars, with a parsonage. I write all this on the hint at the
close of your letter. Mr. Hackley will doubtless write to you,
should he resign ; aud I trust you will view the case favorably."
He writes to his father, " I am disposed to reply to this direct prop
osition, as directly and plainly, that there was a time when I did
not think to leave here for life ; but that, for reasons of which it is
not necessary to speak, I am free to say, that though I would not
appear before the people of Auburn as a candidate, yet I would
not decline a suitable invitation, without first visiting the parish, and
giving a mutual opportunity to ascertain how we were suited to each
other. I shall wait to hear from you before replying, and take your
advice." Having received a note of approval from his father, he subse
quently writes, " I have just written to Bishop De Lancey, as I
proposed to do. It costs me some effort to come to the conclusion ;
for my heart cleaves here, however my judgment points elsewhere.
The consideration of being within the reach of his ' friendly crook,'
as I have told him, operates powerfully with me. The journey, I
have no doubt, will be a pleasant and profitable one, whatever the
result may be."
These incipient movements are thus particularly recorded, that no
room may be left for misapprehension or misrepresentation. It is
proper in this, as in all other cases, that he should tell his own story ;
leaving others to draw, from his own avowals, such proofs as they may
warrant of his ingenuousness and disinterestedness, and of his
earnest desire to avoid all just occasion of offence.
Writing on Tuesday in Easter week, after speaking of the weather
on Easter day, as being '.'in fine harmony with the services," he
adds, ". Every body seemed to enjoy them, and Easter reigned un
disputed the Queen of Festivals. With me, it of course mingled
much with other feelings, subduing and softening them, that it was
perhaps the last Easter which I should spend here. I have said
nothing to any one here, except my warden, Mr. Farley, of what
I expect from Auburn, nor shall I, until I receive a formal invitation.
It will take the parish very much by surprise ; and will, to the best
part, if not the whole, be a source of unaffected sorrow. Their
action will probably determine the question." Meanwhile he sought
the counsel of many of his friends and brethren abroad, and patiently
waited the result.
On another important point he now speaks undisguisedly : " It
will be distinctly understood, as soon as I make any declarations on
the subject, that I do not go to Auburn, or any where else, as an
unmarried man."

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 243
These preliminaries prepare the way, for placing on record the
official transactions connected with his removal from the parish.
The following communication was received on the 2d of May : —
Auburn, April 28, 1840.
The Rev. William Croswell.
Bear Sir: In communicating to you the enclosed resolutions of our
vestry, adopted under the advice of our bishop, it gives us additional pleas
ure to assure you, that your call to this parish is made with the unanimous
concurrence of all the members, those absent as well as present at the
meeting, and in conformity to the wish of the parish whom we represent.
We would, for that and other reasons, earnestly urge your acceptance of it,
believing that it will be most satisfactorily settling the question, oftentimes
delicate and agitating to parishes, which has a second time arisen in our par
ish since the ever-lamented death of Rev. Mr. Lucas, our former rector.
At the same time, we beg leave to state to you, that it is very desirable
that your settlement over us should be with a knowledge on your part of the
parish and people committed to your charge, so that we may count, on both
sides, upon permanency in the arrangements, such, as we trust, a mutual ac
quaintance will lead to. We therefore, by direction of the vestry, invite you
to visit us at your earliest convenience, and to spend such time as will enable
you to act with full personal knowledge, believing, as we are led to flatter
ourselves, that a mutual acquaintance will add inducements to your accept
ance of our call.
The Rev. Mr. Hackley will consent to continue with us until about the
lsj; of August, if your convenience would thereby be promoted ; and in ref
erence to his continuance, it is desirable to hear from you, or, if practicable,
to see you here at an early day. At the time of his resignation, he supposed
it incumbent upon him to repair to his new engagements by the first of May ;
but it is now ascertained that he can remain until the later period. Still, it
is important to ascertain early whether he should make his calculations to
remain or not.
Hoping, in the providence of God, that you may at an early day be settled
among us as our rector, pleasantly and permanently,
We are, sir, with respect and esteem,
Your friends and obedient servants,
G. b. throop, >
S. H. GOODWIN, > Com.
A. GRIDLEY, ^
The following were the enclosed resolutions : —
At a meeeting of the vestry of St. Peter's Church, in Auburn, held at the
office of J. H. Bostwick, Esq., the 27th day of April, 1840: —
Present, Rev. C. W. Hackley, President ; Hon. H. Burt, Senior Warden ;
Hon. G. B. Throop, William Swain, H. Bostwick, S. H. Goodwin, A.
F. Carpenter, and A. Gridley, Vestrymen.
On motion of G. B. Throop, Esq., Resolved unanimously, That the Rev.
William Croswell, of Boston, be, and is hereby invited to become the
Rector of St. Peter's Church, in Auburn.
Also, on motion of H. Burt, Resolved, That G. B. Throop, Stephen A.
Goodwin, and A. Gridley, be a committee to communicate the above to
the Rev. Mr. Croswell, and to make such further communications as they
may deem proper and in accordance with the expressed views and wishes of
the vestry. A true extract from the minutes, A. GRIDLEY,
Clerk of the Vestry of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, N. Y.

244 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840]
On the 4th of May, writing to his father, he mentions the re
ceipt of the foregoing communication, and states that he had shown
it to one or two fri<- .ds besides the wardens, and that they all con
curred with him in the opinion, that it was best to communicate it
through the wardens, to the proprietors, in such a way as to ascertain
the real state of their feelings. He accordingly wrote the letter, of
which the following is a copy : — Boston, May 4, 1840.
Messrs. Robert Farley and Frederick H. Stimpson, Wardens of Christ
Church, Boston.
My Bear Friends : On Saturday last, I received the enclosed invitation
to the rectorship of St Peter's Church, Auburn, in the Western Diocese of
New York ; and before taking any action upon it, I lose no time in bringing
it to your notice, and through you to that of the proprietors, this day con
vened. My reasons are these.
It is now eleven years since I came to this church, while the " dew of
youth " was still upon me, and entered upon my duties with all the ardor of
a first love. From that time to this, I have never had any other idea than
that of identifying myself with it for life ; and not only have sought no
change, but have declined several overtures from abroad, which, in the opin
ion of disinterested friends, I should have consulted my usefulness and ad
vantage by accepting. Recognizing distinctly the leadings of Providence
which brought me hither, here I purposed steadfastly and patiently to abide,
in the spirit of the Institution office, feeding the portion of the flock of
Christ intrusted to me, until I should be called to give an account of my
stewardship to the Chief Bishop and Sovereign Judge of all hereafter. My
heart and affections still cling fondly here, and the very vicissitudes of death
and time, which have removed so many from among us, whose countenance
was my chief earthly encouragement, have given an endearing consecration
to the scene of my past labors. No clergyman can be more sensible of his
insufficiency for the arduous duties of tlie ministry, and of his own manifold
imperfections ; but I still enjoy the consciousness that the spiritual welfare
of the parish, and the obligation of fidelity to souls, have ever been up
permost in my mind, and that it has been my heart's desire to spend and be
spent in their service.
I entertain a lively and grateful sense of the thousand proofs of kindness
and esteem received from my parishioners, individually and collectively,
and which have led me to suppose that I was secure of their continued affec
tions. In this respect, however, from the painful information of which you
were, a few weeks since, the unwilling organs, I am apprehensive that I may
have been mistaken ; that a state of feeling unknown to me may exist, vvhich
threatens the permanency of my relations, and may make the dissolution of
the pastoral connection expedient and desirable. Should this be the case, I
trust the occasion will not be allowed to pass without a distinct intimation
of it, in order that I may be able to act in the premises with a full under
standing of their wishes and feelings.
To whatever conclusion the proprietors may come, I trust it will be in that
spirit of mutual kindness and good will which has always governed our rela
tions to each other, and a title to vvhich I trust never to forfeit. May the
great Head of the Church so guide and govern them in their delibera
tions, as may best promote the permanent prosperity, harmony, and happiness
of this home of our common affections.
With sincerest esteem, your friend and pastor,
W. CROSWELL.
This letter was presented to the proprietors at the close of their

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 245
annual meeting, and, as might have been expected, not only took
them by surprise, but produced some little agitation. Its tone was
calculated to disarm hostility, and it was received by a principal
portion of the meeting in a kind and conciliatory spirit ; but there
were a few present who betrayed strong symptoms of disaffection.
" They agreed, however," he adds in the letter to his father, " not
to act precipitately, and will meet again on Thursday evening, (7th.)
Meantime, all doubt has passed from my mind as to the expedien
cy of resigning ; and the only question remaining to be settled is,
as to the time and manner. On this point I am not yet prepared
to decide ; but shall take judicious advice, and proceed with all the
calmness I can command. I foresee that the final step will cause
great excitement in the parish and town, for my friends are numer
ous and influential; but I am determined, by the grace of God, not
to be excited myself, nor be responsible for excitement in others. I
intend to leave, if may be, without an enemy behind ; and it will
not be my fault if we do not part with the best understanding pos
sible. I foresee also how hard it will be, without divine strength, to
adhere to this resolution ; and I need your effectual and fervent
prayer in my behalf."
On the 7th, the adjourned meeting of the proprietors was accord
ingly held, when there were present, in person and by proxy, twen
ty-four voters; and the following resolutions were passed, with a
single dissenting voice : —
Whereas, The Rev. William Croswell, rector of this church, by a
communication made to the wardens on the 4th inst., states that he has re
ceived an invitation to the rectorship of St. Peter's Church, Auburn, N. Y.,
and requests the opinion of the proprietors in relation to the expediency of
his accepting the same ; therefore,
Resolved, That we receive this communication with sincere regret, and
deprecate the dissolution of his present pastoral connection, convinced that,
during the eleven years he has sustained the important and arduous situation
of rector, he has been faithful and unremitting in his exertions to advance,
not only the interests of the parish, but those of the church at large in the
diocese, with a single eye to the spiritual welfare of the souls of those over
whom God in his wise providence has made him overseer ; and that the many
sacrifices he has made, and the unbounded liberality he has shown, entitle
him to our warmest gratitude.
Resolved, That a committee, to consist of three proprietors and the war
dens, be appointed to communicate the foregoing resolution, and to express
more fully the sentiments of the proprietors on the subject [Committee ap
pointed, in addition to the wardens — Messrs. John Bacon, H. H. Hugge-
ford, and E. W. Goddard.]
In discharging the duty thus assigned to them, the committee
presented the following letter : —
Rev. William Croswell.
Our beloved Friend and Pastor .- The committee appointed at the last
meeting of the proprietors of Christ Church have enclosed the resolutions

246 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
then passed for your consideration. In so doing, they conceive they dis
charge but one part of their duty. These documents will constitute a part
of the Church records. It is expedient, therefore, that there be a written
testimonial ofthe sentiments and happy feelings with which your parishioners
regard you.
Were your own wishes alone consulted, this might be omitted. By the
unforeseen events of the future, our Church, by the direction of a benevolent
Providence, may become more and more distinguished as its numbers in
crease. Therefore its history may be the more interesting.
From these motives we deem it our duty to enter on record the views of
the committee, and through them what they believe to be the honest and sin
cere opinions of the great majority of the proprietors and members of our
Church. We speak in an especial manner of those who have attended since
your ordination ; and also of those who have, at a subsequent period, con
nected themselves to our Church.
If ever it fell to the lot of a parish to enjoy the most disinterested, devoted,
and self-sacrificing pastor, ours has been blessed with it, during the whole of
your ministration, beyond example. The sacrifice has been on one side
alone. The only return we can make, is our ardent gratitude and love to
one who has ever been an anchor to our hopes and a comforter to our souls.
We cannot, dear sir, repress these spontaneous indications of regard, oth
erwise we should do injustice to our hearts.
Your assenting to remain, will encourage and animate all to promote that
union and harmony, without which no church can be at peace.
With sentiments of much esteem,
We sign ourselves, your friends, &c,
JOHN BACON,
H. H. HUGGEFORD,
ROBERT FARLEY,
FRED. H. STIMPSON,
ELIAS W. GODDARD.
Boston, 7th May, 1840.
This communication was presented, it seems, in person, by the
chairman of the committee. A description of the interview, and of
its effects upon the rector, must be given in his own language :
" The chairman, Mr. Huggeford, came over to my study, and
with a voice tremulous with emotion, and in a style of most impres
sive eloquence, quite overpowered my manhood. I felt relieved by
the first gush of tears which I have shed since the subject has been
under consideration, and all bosoms seemed to be too full for
utterance." In addition to this demonstration of hearty good will, he re
ceived other assurances, which led him to hesitate in his decision,
and to weigh more deliberately the question of his removal. ''I
confess," he says, " that I am in a strait betwixt two ; to depart be
ing, on many accounts, doubtless, far better, while to remain seems
to be most needful for those here. What to do I wot not. Visit
Auburn I must, in redemption of my pledge ; and that fair village
may make a conquest of all my reluctance." Writing again, four
days later, he says, " I have not much light to throw on my affairs.
The proprietors meet on Thursday, to receive the report of their
committee. Their own resolutions are so satisfactory, and the feel-

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 247
ing so strong in my favor through the parish, that I am more at a
loss than ever what I ought to do. I need illumination. Seek it
for me. I cannot keep them in suspense at Auburn. And I can
not leave here till the question is decided. I feel, I assure you,
greatly embarrassed."
This embarrassment was doubtless much increased by the receipt
of the following affectionate address, signed by more than eighty
families and individuals, among the regular attendants upon his
ministrations : —
To the Rev. William Croswell, Rector of Christ Church.
Bear Sir : The subscribers, worshippers at Christ Church, have learned,
with the deepest pain and regret, that you have tendered your • esignation as
rector. Having been permitted to enjoy the benefit of your ministration for
many years, and witnessed your untiring exertions and great sacrifices for
the interest, temporal as well as spiritual, of the Church ; and feeling the
greatest respect and affection for you as their pastor, and believing that
your leaving at any time, but particularly under the present circumstances,
would he of serious and lasting injury to the Church, they are desirous of
giving you this testimonial of their regard, and respectfully urging you to
reconsider your determination, and consent to remain with us, assuring you
that they will do all in their power to render your situation as happy and
pleasant to you in all your relations as they trust your remaining will be
profitable to them and the Church.
Previous to the adjourned meeting of the proprietors to hear the
report of their committee, he addressed the following note to the
chairman : — Boston, May 14, 1840.
H. H. Huggeford, Esq., Chairman of a Committee of Proprietors of Christ
Church.
My dear Sir .- Nothing could be more gratifying to me than the terms of
the resolutions adopted by the proprietors of Christ Church, at their meet
ing on the 7th inst., unless it were the manner in which their sentiments
were conveyed to me, on the same evening, by yourself and the other gen
tlemen of the committee associated with you. Were I to yield to my present
impressions, I beg to assure you that they would be decisive in favor of my
remaining in a situation that was never more endeared to me. At the same
time the question is one which has so momentous a bearing on the permanent
mterests of the parish, as well as my own personal prospects for life, that it
ought not to be settled without great deliberation. I hope, therefore, it will
not seem unreasonable if I ask a few weeks' delay before communicat
ing my final decision, in order that I may have an opportunity of consulting
with my friends, and be enabled to view the subject in all its aspects.
With every sentiment of regard and affection for yourself and the body
whom you represent on this occasion, I am, very sincerely,
Your friend and servant.
W. CROSWELL.
May 15, he writes, "Every thing is now satisfactorily adjusted.
The proprietors met last evening to hear the report of their com
mittee ; and all things appear now to be precisely as they should

248 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
be, and I have no time to lose in making my arrangements for
visiting Auburn."
These preliminaries being thus settled, he next announces, on the
22d of May, another most important event of his life, — his betroth-
ment to Miss Amanda Tarbell, daughter of Silas P. Tarbell,
Esq., a young lady with whom he had been well acquainted, and for
whom he had formed a strong attachment.
He left Boston on the 25th of May, and pursued his journey,
taking New Haven on his way, from whence he persuaded his
mother to accompany him as far as Albany. On the 29th he
arrived at Auburn ; and his first impressions are given in a few
lively sketches, which are detached from a long letter addressed to
his father, on the 1st of June : "I was met on my arrival here by
three or four of the principal people. The first impressions seemed
'to be mutually favorable. I confess that I am much pleased with
every thing. The place is pleasant beyond my expectations. The
church is delightfully situated, withdrawn from the street, and
bosomed up in locust trees, which are now in full flower and fra
grance. The parsonage hard by, and all its arrangements, just about
right. Mrs. Lucas (widow of the former rector) still occupies it,
and I am her guest. . . . The congregation yesterday was
large and intelligent, and seemed to be well satisfied with the ser
vices. ... I have seen enough to satisfy me that an humble-
minded man might spend his days happily and usefully here ; and
if, on my return to Boston, I find it, as I probably shall, ' expedient
that I go away,' I shall not be disposed to look any farther.
The interior of the church rather disappoints me. It is
not in keeping with all without ; but the arrangements have rather
a common air. The monument of Bishop Hobaht, and his bust,
however, glorify it, and make it worth a pilgrimage to see. His
spirit seems to brood over the house [the parsonage] wherein he
died, and where Lucas followed him to his rest.
' The chamber where the good man meets his fate
Is privileged above the common walks.'
You perceive that a change has come over the spirit of my dream
since I left New Haven. My health and heart seem to be better.
A burden is lifted off from my mind. The weather is delightful,
and the airs of this sweet little town are singularly refreshing, and
seem to make it, indeed, ' the loveliest village of the plain.' "
His next letter confirms all that he has said of his favorable im
pressions in the foregoing, and he concludes to remain over a
second Sunday. He again writes, on the 12th, from New York,
giving his reasons for not returning by the way of New Haven, and
expressing his full conviction that it is expedient to remove to

1840.] CHRIST CHURCH. 249
Auburn, with as little delay as possible : " Unless something occurs
to change my determination which I cannot now foresee, I shall
resign the rectorship at once, get married forthwith, and push for
Auburn early in July. I do not yet know what reception I shall
meet with in Boston. In any event I have a trying ordeal to pass
through ; but I believe I am nerved for the issue."
It was amidst the trying scenes of this moment that the return
ing festival of St. John the Baptist brought vividly to his mind and
feelings the eleventh anniversary of his institution to the rectorship
of Christ Church. Under the circumstances, it was a day of double
solemnity to him ; and he dedicated it to a sacred purpose. In the
cloisters of that church, where he had so long ministered, and of
which he was now about to take his final leave, he penned the fol
lowing touching lines. They were enclosed to a highly-valued
friend and correspondent, the late Mrs. Elizabeth Sumner, of
Hartford, and are inserted here, as their most appropriate place.

ST. JOHN BAPTISTS DAY.
It was a solemn day to me,
This twenty-fourth of June,
Eleven years ago ; alas,
That they have passed so soon !
And often as it comes about,
I meditate thereon,
And strive to follow, as I may,
Christ's herald, good St. John.
It was a solemn place to me,
That sanctuary old,
Where still we, after sixscore years,
The same high service hold.
And still 'tis good, amid the change
That sweeps o'er all beside,
To know that while these walls shall stand,
That service shall abide.
How many who were present then
Sleep in their tombs below!
How many to their distant posts
Have gone as I now go !
Of all the crowds that then were here,
How few are left behind !
And of that few, how fewer still
Who call that scene to mind.
32

250 ' MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
To me it is as yesterday ;
I see the whole proceed —
The bishop and the brethren round,
Who come to bid " God speed ! "
The holy altar, then withdrawn
Deep in its own recess,
Ere desk and pulpit crowded in,
To make its honors less.
O, it was not in mockery
That then I offered there,
In weakness, fear, and trembling tones,
The institution prayer.
How often, as I've paced those aisles
At sacred hours alone,
Have I recited o'er that prayer,
To God is truly known !
How little thought the warden gray,
That aught but death, the keys
Surrendered by his faithful hand,
Should ever wrest from these ;
That e'er this ancient fold should count
Their broken pledge no sin,
Or part, for trifling cause, the bonds
Of God's own discipline.
Dear Church ! as now that tender charge
I solemnly resign,
Some bleeding hearts will testify
The fault has not been mine !
For who could hear thy heavenly chime
With gladder heart than I ?
Who love thee with a fonder love,
Or in thy service die ?
God raise thee up some faithful man,
More prompt to follow on,
In doctrine and in holy life,
Christ's herald, good St. John !
Give him all boldness to rebuke,
And skill thy griefs to cure,
And for his heavenly Master's sake,
All patience to endure !

1840.] RESIGNATION OF CHRIST CHURCH. 251
Pursuant to the purpose already suggested in his private corre
spondence, he addressed, on his return from Auburn, the following
letter to the committee : — Boston, June 19, 1840.
Messrs. Bacon, Huggeford, Goddard, Farley, and Stimpson, Committee
of the Proprietors of Christ Church.
My dear Friends : After mature deliberation, and conference with judicious
friends, here and elsewhere, not without earnest prayer for the divine guid
ance, I have come reluctantly to the conclusion to request the proprietors to
accept my resignation of the rectorship of Christ Church, on the last day of
the present month. However my judgment may dictate this course, it has
cost me a painful effort of feeling which I cannot trust myself to express.
Allow me, however, to assure you, that wherever Providence may cast my lot,
the interests and welfare of this ancient heritage of God will ever be near to
my heart, and that I shall always bear upon my memory the recollections of
my imperfect but well-meant ministrations here as the happiest employment
of my past life. Permit me also to commend you, and all its members, to
God's most holy keeping. I pray that you may be guided in the choice of
a successor who will as entirely unite your confidence and regard, and whose
labors will be crowned with much more abundant success. Above all, may
we so part, that the hallowed ties cemented by the intercourse of the last
eleven years may never be severed, but that hereafter, when all the changes
and chances of this mortal life are over, we may once more rejoice together,
with all the dispersed sheep of Christ's flock, as one fold under one Shepherd,
in the everlasting kingdom of God's dear Son. Amen.
With the yearnings of sincere affection,
Your friend and pastor,
W. CROSWELL.
P. S. I propose to take leave of the parish, with the approbation of the
proprietors, on Sunday morning, July 5, and to celebrate with them for the
last time, in my present capacity, the affecting mysteries of the Holy Com-

The action of the proprietors on this letter is thus officially
recorded : —

At an adjourned meeting ofthe proprietors of Christ Church, Boston, held
on the evening of the 29th of June, 1840, the wardens and a large number
of the proprietors were present.
The chairman stated, that the object of the meeting was for the consid
eration, and acting finally, upon the application of the R,ev. William Cros
well to the proprietors to accept of his resignation as rector of Christ
Church. The question being called for, was decided by yeas and nays, in the affirm
ative, in the following words, to wit : —
Voted, To accept the resignation of the Rev. William Croswell, as the
rector of this church, when the official sanction (necessary in such cases)
shall have been given by the bishop.
Voted, That the wardens be authorized to communicate to the Rev. Wil
liam Croswell, rector of this church, the acceptance of his resignation hy
the proprietors.

252 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
The wardens, in discharging the duty thus committed to them,
addressed the following affectionate letter to the retiring rector : —
Boston, July 18, 1840.
Rev. and dear Sir : Having been appointed a committee for the purpose of
answering your communication of the 19th ult., requesting the proprietors of
Christ Church to accept your resignation as rector, it has become our duty to
enclose a copy of the resolutions adopted by the proprietors, at their meeting
on the 29th ult, by which you will perceive they have complied with your
request. That this duty is a painful one, you, who so well know our feelings, can
well judge. We deeply regret that any circumstances should have occurred
to render it expedient to dissolve a connection which it was hoped would
have terminated only with your life.
But the ways of Providence are inscrutable ; and may He in whose hands
we all are, overrule for good to you and us, this which now appears so great
an evil.
May His choicest blessings attend you in all your future connections.
May He in mercy keep and guide you, until at last, having finished your
course with joy, having been made the happy instrument of turning many to
righteousness, you may be admitted, with those other luminaries who have
preceded you in laboring in this portion of God's vineyard, to shine in the
kingdom of God your Father, and with them, and all those over whom you
have so faithfully labored, enjoy forever his blissful presence.
With sentiments of the greatest respect and affection,
We are, dear sir, your friends,
ROBERT FARLEY, ) w ,
FRED. H. STIMPSON, $ Waraens-
To Rev. William Croswell.
These official papers are thus spread upon these pages, as the
unbiassed testimony of the people of his cure, in their collective
capacity, to his pastoral fidelity, and to his eminent qualifications
for the place which he had so long held among them. One more
voluntary and affecting token of love and veneration, received from
a select number of his highly esteemed parishioners, on the day pre
vious to his leave-taking discourse, may fitly be recorded in this
place. To Rev. William Croswell.
Bear Sir : The subscribers, a few of your numerous friends and parish
ioners, with feelings of the deepest and unfeigned sorrow at the separation
which is about to take place, and tendering you their best wishes and earnest
prayers for your happiness in the new relations, parochial and matrimonial,
you are about to form, respectfully request your acceptance ofthe accompa
nying cup, as a small token of their respect and affection for you, and their
desire to be had in remembrance. R. M. COPELAND,
C. P. GORDON,
JAMES PIERCE,
E. W. GODDARD
FRED. H. STIMPSON.
Boston, July 3, 1840.
On Sunday, the 5th of July, agreeably to the notice given to
the proprietors, he took leave of his people in a farewell discourse,

1840.] PARTING TESTIMONIALS. 253
Writing to his father on the 7th, he speaks of this valedictory in the
following terms: The church was thronged, and the congregation
were generally in tears. " It was, indeed," he says, " a moving
scene, and every indication of the most unaffected sorrow was visible
on every hand. The communion was never before so large on any
occasion. In the afternoon, the members of the other societies
poured in, in great numbers, supposing that the farewell discourse
was to be delivered then. Though disappointed in that respect,
they heard a capital sermon from brother Boyle, who spoke in a
few words, of myself and services, in a manner which it would have
gratified a parent to hear. It was a great, however sad, day to me ;
and I am receiving constantly, from every quarter, the most touching
testimonies of respect and regard, and sorrow for my departure.
My correspondents are particularly kind." He speaks with peculiar
emotion of the " beautiful cup " which he had just received.
From a mass of testimonials, and notes of kindness and affection,
which are found on his well-arranged files, a few only can be selected
as samples of the whole. The following, from the bishop and
clergy of Boston and vicinity, must have been exceedingly grateful
to his feelings : — Boston, July 11, 1840.
Rev. and dear Sir : It is with deep regret, that the undersigned, youi
brethren in the ministry, have learned that you have taken leave of the parish,
in which you have so long, so faithfully, and so acceptably labored, and are
soon to take your departure for another diocese. In this sentiment all, we
believe, who have the pleasure of knowing you, will be ready to share. Per
mit us, on this occasion, to express our unfeigned respect and esteem for your
character and accomplishments as a scholar, a gentleman, and a Christian
pastor, as well as a true friend of our Apostolic Church. We shall not soon
nor easily forget your cheerful cooperation and valuable aid, in promoting
the cause of piety, virtue, and charity, in our Church and community ; nor
your willingness as a citizen, to take your part in advancing the interests of
education in this metropolis, or in any measures conducive to the public
welfare. Be assured, reverend and dear sir, that we shall rejoice to hear of your suc
cess and prosperity wherever Providence may direct your steps, and shall sym
pathize in any trials you maybe called to endure. May you be happy in your
domestic and other relations, and after having long and successfully served
your divine Master on earth, have at last the joyful salutation, " Well done,
good and faithful servant ; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord."
Your affectionate friends,
ALEXANDER V. GRISWOLD,
ISAAC BOYLE,
IOHN L. WATSON,
ALFRED L. BAURY,
E. M. P. WELLS,
JOHN S. STONE,
THOMAS M. CLARK,
THEODORE EDSON,
JOSEPH A. CLINCH,
ADDISON SEARLE,
SAMUEL McBURNEY.
Rev. William Croswell.

254 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840
The Right Rev. Bishop Griswold, his diocesan, unwilling, as it
would seem, to restrict himself to the formal terms of the ordinary
letter dismissory, thus commends him to his brother, the bishop
of the western diocese of New York : —
To the Right Rev. William H. De Lancey.
Bear Sir .-The object of this is to transfer from the state of Massachusetts
to your diocese, the Rev. William Croswell. Merely to say, that for the
three years last past, he has not been justly liable to evil report for error in
doctrine, or viciousness of life, though eminently true, seems, in his case,
very unnecessary. He will leave behind him no clergyman of the Protestant
Episcopal Church more highly, more justly, or more generally esteemed for
the qualities which constitute and adorn the gentleman, the scholar, or
the faithful minister of Christ. While, with many hundreds of others, I
deeply regret his loss to this diocese, I may well congratulate you on such
an accession to yours. That in his new situation he may find friends, as
many and as cordial as those he leaves, is the prayer of
Your friend and brother,
ALEX. V. GRISWOLD,
Bishop of the Eastern Diocese.
Boston, July 17, 1840.
To these, it is peculiarly gratifying to add the following letters
from the Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, a beloved brother, with
whom he had maintained the most intimate relations during his res
idence in Boston : — Boston, June 20, 1840.
Rev. and dear Brother : As we are about to separate, under circumstances
of peculiar and painful interest, and as our associations will not, probably, be
renewed in this part of the Master's vineyard, I cannot leave the city without
taking the liberty of expressing to you, in what you may perhaps consider
rather a formal manner, but in truth from the overflowings of an affectionate
and grateful heart, the deep sense of obligation which I feel, for the share
which I have been allowed to enjoy, for more than ten years, in your friend
ship, and for the continued, though unmerited kindness, which I have received
at your hands. Very pleasant hast thou been unto me, my brother ; and
while memory lasts, the most delightful of my reflections will rest upon the
scenes of our intercourse. Nor will it, I trust, be without some degree of
spiritual improvement, that we have so often taken sweet counsel together,
and walked to the house of God in company. In unity of sentiment and of
desire, of solicitude and of purpose, we have labored for the welfare of Zion ;
and from the views that we have cherished, and the atmosphere that we have
breathed in common, I cannot doubt that a salutary influence has gone forth
to direct and sustain us, in the paths of our pilgrimage to eternity. I could
have wished that no change might take place in our relations to the Church
in Massachusetts ; but from an acquaintance with all things involved in the
c'ise, I am satisfied that you have come to a wise and just decision. May
the Spirit of God order it for the promotion of your own happiness, and the ad
vancement of the Redeemer's cause. And be assured, my beloved friend and
brother, that wherever you go, and however you may be situated, there is
one, among your many admirers, whose prayers for your prosperity and your
usefulness will never cease.
I know not where to look for the counsel and tlie aid which I have so long
been accustomed to receive from you ; but He who ordereth all things aright
will uphold us in our trials, and relieve us in our wants. To Him, and
the word of His grace, I commend you ; and may He so direct our course.

1840.] PARTING TESTIMONIALS. 255
that among all the changes and chances of this mortal life, we may so live,
that when the cares and the sorrows, the duties and the dangers, of our
present state are over, we may be united in the rich inheritance of his ever
lasting kingdom. Most sincerely and affectionately,
Your unchanging friend and brother, T. STRONG.
Greenfield, July 8, 1840.
My dearest friend and Brother: I cannot express to you my grati
tude for your kindness, and the sympathy that I feel in your trials, renewed
in the reception of those beautiful lines,* which I shall treasure up as a
precious gift of your love, and a most faithful transcript of your mind. You
have, ere this, I suppose, experienced all the bitterness of the parting scene,
and I think the members of your late parish must, without exception, be filled
with sorrow and distress. . . .
The connection that has existed so long and so prosperously between
yourself and Christ Church is now dissolved ; and it must be a cause of
great satisfaction to you that it has been brought about without any seeking
or fault on the part of the rector, and that you go hence with the unchanged
affection and best wishes of those whose opinions and friendship you most
value. I have no doubt that you will leave your accustomed associations, the
places and the people in which you have for many years delighted, with no
ordinary sensations of regret : but the consciousness of integrity in relation
to the past, and the prospect of distinguished usefulness in view of the fu
ture, will be sufficient to comfort and sustain you. May the Spirit of God
be your unfailing attendant, guiding you through all the changes and chances
of this mortal life, and rendering you instrumental in turning multitudes from
darkness to light, and from the power of sin and Satan to the living God.
I hope, my dear brother, that you will not forget, in the place of your west
ern labors, to turn your thoughts occasionally towards the rising of the sun.
I shall expect to hear from you after your settlement in the pleasant shades
of Auburn ; and I need not assure you of the continuance of my fervent
prayers for your prosperity and happiness. Could you, in passing to and from
Boston, take Greenfield in your way, you may be certain of a cordial wel
come at the parsonage, and a quiet resting place. Farewell ! God be
with you! Affectionately, your friend and brother,
T. STRONG.
But these gratifying testimonials were not confined solely to his
clerical brethren. Several laymen, with whom he had maintained a
close and intimate friendship, — such as Robert Farley, Esq., of
his own parish, George Brinley, Esq., formerly of Trinity Church,
but residing at the time in Hartford, Dr. A. F. Stone, of Greenfield,
and Edward A. Newton, Esq., of Pittsfield, — took this opportunity
to express their unfeigned regret at the necessity of his removal, and
their ardent wishes for his future prosperity. But these expressions
are so mingled with personal and private allusions, that it would be
hardly proper to make extracts. A single passage may be detached
from a letter of the last-named gentleman, whose zeal and liberality
as a Churchman and a Christian are well known throughout the
United States. » The lines entitled " St. John Baptist's Day."

256 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
" I have observed, with real regret, from a notice of the pro
ceedings of our late convention, that you are about to leave the
diocese. You will carry with you the esteem and respect of all
who have truly known you. I know of no clergyman in the diocese
who has more faithfully discharged his duties, and oftentimes under
most discouraging circumstances. I pray God to bless you abun
dantly in all the new relations you are about to form ; to make you
happy, and continue your usefulness here, and give you a crown of
glory in the world to come."
He alludes feelingly to these concluding tokens of affection, in
his last letter from Boston to his father, July 13. Even at this mo
ment, it is perceived, his buoyant spirit does not forsake him. " My
position," he says, " reminds me of that remarkable character in one
of Prior's ballads, who, being so unfortunate as to come into collision
with the laws, ' Now fitted the halter, now traversed the cart,
And often took leave, but seemed loath to depart.'
I was all the week packing goods and chattels, and it was not till
Saturday that they were shipped for the forwarding house at Albany.
I linger therefore yet another seven days, to recruit my exhausted
strength, and to say a word at parting to the troops of friends, in
and out of the parish, who are doing every thing in their power to
make my last days truly delightful. If arty thing were needed to
prove that my ministry here has not been entirely in vain, it is in
the beautiful exercise of Christian affection which the occasion has
called out in every quarter. I have a host of letters from my corre
spondents all about me ; and under circumstances vvhich make them
tests of sincerity, as you will see when you come to read them."
But the scene now changes to his new cure. His acceptance of
this cure was conveyed in the following note, addressed to the
Committee of the Vestry : — Boston, July 1, 1840.
Gentlemen : In accordance with the expectations held out during my late
visit to Auburn, you are hereby authorized to inform the vestry that I accept
' their unanimous invitation to become the rector of St. Peter's Church, and
purpose, God willing, to enter on the service of the parish with the least
possible delay. The motives which have led me to this decision are such,
I humbly trust, as will commend themselves to the divine approval, and jus
tify the hope of a blessing upon the proposed connection. Looking to the
Great Head of the Church as the Source of that strength which is alone suf
ficient to sustain me in the arduous responsibilities which I am about to
assume, I feel how greatly I shall need the exercise of your most charitable
constructions, and throw myself upon your Christian sympathies, and beg
the benefit of your prayers.
Most sincerely. Your friend and servant in the gospel,
WILLIAM CROSWELL.

1840.] ARRIVAL AT AUBURN. 257
A hasty note to his father, on Thursday, July 30, announces
his safe arrival at Auburn ; and his predecessor having already left
the place, his effects were deposited in the vacant parsonage. He
met with a flattering reception ; and, as the pulpit had been unsup-
plied for the last four Sundays, his arrival was welcomed with every
demonstration of gratification. Of his opening services, as rector of
the parish, he thus writes under date of August 4 : " Sunday was a
trying but delightful day. The people, so long deprived of the ser
vices, returned to the sanctuary, with a yearning for their renewal,
which was much in my favor. They were attentive and apparently
gratified. During parts of the service, I could scarcely restrain my
tears ; and in secret prayer before sermon, I gave way to emotion.
I was able to command myself during the delivery, though I could
not of course feel quite at home. It was another funeral discourse.
They watch for your souls, as they that must give account. I never felt
more deeply impressed with the weight of my ministerial responsi
bilities, or needed more that grace be given, through the intercession
of many, so to discharge them as to be enabled to render my account
with joy and not with grief. The minds of the hearers appeared to
be as deeply solemnized as my own. In the afternoon, I preached
one of the last sermons prepared for Christ Church : Ye note, there
fore, have sorrow, <fcc, as most in unison with my own melancholy
feelings. Every thing, on the whole, seemed to be as satisfactory
as was expected."
During a few of the following days, he favored several of his cor
respondents with letters of peculiar interest ; from some of which,
it is deemed a privilege to' make the following extracts. Writing
to his cousin Elizabeth on Sunday, August 9, he says, " I write
you on the most sacred of days, and from one of the most sacred of
places, the study of the parsonage, hallowed as the chamber whence
the spirits of Hobart and Lucas both passed from earth to heaven.
Looking down into the green and quiet churchyard, the peace of
the scene steals into my heart, and I feel blessed with a foretaste of
much enjoyment and communion with them. The walls around me
have been witnesses to much suffering ; but it has been such suffer
ing, we trust, as terminates in eternal glory, and we sorrow not as
those without hope. It was, methinks, on the eve of such a day as
this, when the setting sunbeams penetrated, with a checkered light,
through the leaves of the locust trees that shade the windows, that
Bishop Hobart desired to be lifted up to see once more the orb of
day, and made some thrilling allusion to the Sun of Righteousness,
in whose light he should soon see light. It reminds me of those
two stanzas on the Black Prince, in Rob Roy, which, with a little
change, might be applied to our great spiritual champion : —
33

258 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840-
' " Raise my faint head, my squires," he said,
" And let the casement be displayed,
That I may see once more
The splendor of the setting sun
Gleam on thy mirrored wave, Garonne,
And Blaye's impurpled shore.
" Like me he sinks to glory's sleep ;
His fall the dews of evening steep,
As if in sorrow shed.
So soft shall fall the trickling tear
When England's maids and matrons hear
Of their Black Edward dead." '

The associations with the departed give the place a solemnity
and impressiveness, which, with the character of the day, is calcu
lated to inspire tender thoughts. It is good to be here ; and I
realize some of the advantages to which Young alludes, where he
says, — ' The chamber where the good man meets his fate
Is privileged above the common walk.'
The stillness of this deserted house has helped to suggest this train
of contemplation. The study is the only room, yet reduced to
order ; but by the kind exertions of my friends, it will soon be
rendered comfortable, and ready for the reception of my other self."
Writing to the Rev. Dr. Strong one or tvvo days later, he falls
into a similar train of reflection, and then adds, " I have been re
ceived here in a manner, my dear friend, to make amends for any
past trial of my feelings. . . . May God give me grace to be
humble, not idolizing myself, nor being idolized by others. Nothing
can be more gratifying than the prompt and cordial terms of con
gratulation with which I have been welcomed by the bishop, and
those of the clergy, whose interests have been longest identified
with that of the diocese, as the elder worthies. . . . The
only return I can make, will be to endeavor to deserve their
confidence. I can truly say, that the lines have fallen unto me in
pleasant places, and that prospects of usefulness are unfolding
themselves on every side. Those who have preceded me have
made the path of duty easy and pleasant before me. I shall make
it my effort to preach sound doctrine, and administer wholesome
discipline, and to walk by the same rules, going with them, shoul
der to shoulder, in sustaining old-fashioned Church principles, and
upholding the arms of the bishop. 1 trust, in short, to be a fol
lower of those who have gone before, as they followed Christ,

1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 259
whether living or dead ; and especially to begin where he ended,
whose great spirit was breathed out here, and whose last sermon
was, ' The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom.' "
Soon after his settlement in Auburn, he also wrote an affection
ate letter to his friend and brother, the Rev. Addison Searle, who,
as a chaplain in the United States navy, was at the time stationed
at the navy yard in Charlestown. He had been in the habit of cor
responding with Mr. Searle, in former years, while he was absent
with the American squadron in South America ; and had been in
strumental, with other friends, in procuring his situation at the navy
yard. While there, they were on terms of great intimacy ; and Mr.
Searle, being a warm-hearted and devoted man, always held him
self in readiness to assist the rector in his official duties ; and no
man ever occupied the desk and pulpit with more general accept
ance to the congregation. Before closing this memoir, occasion
will be found to record the melancholy death of this worthy servant
of God, at sea, on board the squadron in the Mediterranean. A
letter, dated August 13, expresses many of the sentiments already
cited. He then adds, " It is a grateful transition to live in a land
where one may preach Catholic doctrine without exciting suspicion
as to the soundness of his Protestantism ; where Churchmen, as Dr.
Johnson says, are not frightened by what is no longer dangerous,
'eaten up with a morbid dread of Popery, when the land is almost
swallowed up of Presbytery, and crying, Fire ! fire ! in Noah's
flood.' Yet do not suppose that I can ever forget the dear friends
I have left behind. My heart turns aback, as I muse of the happy
hours which I have spent at your kind and generous board. I am
anticipating with great delight the comforts of housekeeping, and
hope, at some early day, to have an opportunity of reciprocating
your proverbial hospitality, and being smoked at my own table as
freely as I ever was at yours. ' Though, to be sure,' as Dr. John
son again says, ' it is a shocking thing, this blowing smoke out of
our own mouths into other people's eyes, mouths, and noses, and
having the same thing done to us.' " A loving rebuke of his good
brother's inveterate habit of smoking.
His letters to his father at this period are generally of a free
and familiar nature, and are chiefly occupied with his private affairs,
and especially his contemplated nuptials and domestic arrange
ments, from which, and from the prospects of happiness and use
fulness in his new pastoral relations, he was very naturally antici
pating a large amount of enjoyment. Still, in reference to his pa
rochial concerns, he could not forget, amid the warm congratula
tions of his new friends, the salutary lesson which he had learned
in his recent bitter experience — that the few persons in his late
cure who were the first to betray symptoms of disaffection, and to

260 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
endeavor to spread that disaffection, were among the most enthusi
astic of his admirers on his settlement in Christ Church.
From his casual correspondence, however, a few extracts may
be made. August 10, he writes, " I went to Geneva on Wednesday.
Passed for the first time the Cayuga bridge, — as famous in history
as the bridge of Lodi, — the candidate for governor, in every po
litical campaign passing it, in a figure of speech, with so many
thousand majority, east or west. It is more than a mile in length.
The waters have a sea-green hue, and the landscape would inspire
volumes of sentiment, if it were only European." He found Gene
va as picturesque and romantic as he expected from the description
of travellers, and cites Percival's line, " On thy fair bosom, silver
lake," as a representation of the beautiful sheet of waters, on the
shores of which the village stands. The college was then compar
atively in its infancy, and the number of graduates at this com
mencement was small. " If," he says, " their heads were not as
full of learning as the Oxford students, their square caps were at
least as large, and their gowns as graceful." He met on this occa
sion the two bishops of New York, with some thirty of the clergy,
and had, as he remarks, " a pleasant time at the bishop's, whose
seat is delightfully situated on the banks of the lake."
Monday, August 17, he writes, " We had three services yester
day, and a pleasant catechizing round the chancel. The lambs
have been well fed, and my predecessors have made my path very
pleasant and plain before me. I trust to follow them as they fol
lowed Christ."
On the following day he addressed a letter to his mother, enclos
ing the subjoined stanzas, written in anticipation of his apprpaching
nuptials : " As the time draws on, dear mother, when I am to
change my condition, and enter into the holy state of marriage, I
long to comfort you with the assurance that no movement has been
made in so important a matter but in the fear of God, and with
mutual prayers to him, that he would be pleased to go along with
us, in our entering in, and passing through, this state. The com
panion whom he has chosen for me promises to become a great
blessing and comfort to me ; a sharer in all my joys, a refresh
ment in all my sorrows ; a meet helper for me in all the ways of
godliness. I am sure that you will dearly love each other, and
that she will indeed be to you as a daughter. ... I need not
say how deeply it enters into all my plans, to think how much
pleasure this or that arrangement will afford you, when you come
to visit us here ; and I humbly trust that we may find together, in
some hour of domestic enjoyment, all that earth affords, as a fore
taste of the enduring joys of heaven ! "

1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 261
Methinks those joyous bells will ring
In my rapt ear with holiest power,
When I within that shrine shall bring
The offering of my nuptial hour ;
And I shall feel the debt I owe
For all the past of hope and love,
Dear Church, that gives so much below,
In pledge of more reserved above !
Though brief the time in service spent,
How long and dear its ties shall be !
As precious and " as permanent
As numbers of eternity ; " *
For though no bridal bond be theirs
Who in the resurrection rise,
Yet from their graves " all holy pairs "
Pass to their union in the skies
O, may that worthiness be mine,
To walk hereafter by her side
O'er whom I joy, in rites divine,
As joys the bridegroom o'er the bride.
Together may we join the throng
Who follow at their Savior's call,
And celebrate in mystic song
The heavenly marriage festival !

In a subsequent letter to his father, he speaks thus of these
verses : " I sent mother a copy of the maschil, or song of loves,
which I had written to the chief musician upon Shoshannim.
There is truth in it, if there be no poetry ; and all poetry, as we
see by holy writ, is by no means fiction. My prayer therein is as
sincere as any in the Golden Grove of Jeremy Taylor." In this
letter, he cites, with evident gratification, and with a " blessing on
the little unsophisticated heart of the Boston medal boy," the fol
lowing incident : " At the last annual exhibition of the Eliot
School," a school which he had long served as one of the com
mittee, " one of the medal boys, in his closing address, said to the
committee, ' But comes there no regret with this hour 1 One is
missing from your ranks, whose gently-approving smile has often
mingled with yours, to gladden our hearts, and whose presence to
day we would fain have welcomed ; but he has gone to labor in a
distant part, and with him go our warmest wishes for his prosperity
and happiness.' "
* See Jeremy Taylor's sermon " On the Spousal Ring."

262 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
The 27th of August was the anniversary of the death of his pred
ecessor. It was a solemn day to him ; and the following lines,
penned on the occasion, show the current of his musings : —

IN MEMORY OF MY BELOVED FRIEND AND PREDECESSOR,
THE REV. WILLIAM LUCAS.
Three years ago, dear friend, to-day,
Thy chastened spirit passed away ;
And musing in the room,
The last thy earthly footsteps trod,
In walk, like Enoch, close with God,
Light kindles up the gloom.
In all thy steps thus may I tread,
And feed the flock as thou hast fed,
And make my lot. my choice,
Till, reaping where thou well hast sown,
At harvest home, before the throne,
I may with thee rejoice ! W. C.
St. Peter's Parsonage, Auburn, August 27, 1840.

The next letter, in point of date, from which a few extracts are
taken, is addressed to his excellent friend and brother, the Rev.
John L. Watson, assistant minister of Trinity Church, Boston.
September 4, after speaking, as he had done to others, of the
pleasantness of his situation, he proceeds : " The transition from
the excitements of the city to the tranquillity of this rural retreat
has not been so strongly marked as I anticipated. My mind has
been fully occupied with pleasant engagements ; and when it might
otherwise have fallen back upon itself, I have betaken myself to
communion with those whom I have left behind. Every thing is
favorable to systematic division of time. The mornings are unin
terrupted, and all calls are expected to be made in the afternoon
and evening. I hope to make up for lost hours, and do some
study. . . . Thirty days hath September,' and two impor
tant events call me about the same time : the one to Buffalo, the
other to Boston. The first is an annual convention, and there
fore less important than the latter, which I hope will occur but
once in my life. I shall probably Ix- in the midst of you, for the
last time in the enjoyment of my single blessedness, about the last
of the month. 1 cannot be more explicit now, but shall be prompt
to report myself and my arrangements on my arrival."

1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 263
Pending his preparations for this journey, he found time, it would
seem, to indulge his poetical vein ; and the following stanzas are
alluded to in his journal as having been written at this time : —

LAKE OWASCO.

" One of the seven fair lakes that lie
Like mirrors 'neath the summer sky."
Ensknobb."

Fair lake, upon thy tranquil face
The gilded clouds, in rich array,
Reflected pass, and leave no trace —
Types of thy people passed away !
And he who through thy pictured page
Looks deepest down, with rapture sees,
Like relics of that long-lost age,
The glimmerings of dim mysteries.
Well may the statesmen, for such seats,
Resign the empire's helm awhile,
And deep within thy green retreats,
The languid summer hours beguile.
Here Scipio had, in joy, repaired
With La:lius, at the Senate's close,
And by thy shaded strand had shared
The charms of friendship and repose.
Bright visions haunt thy storied dells,
Nor may thy crystal waters drown
The mingled pomps of poets' spells,
And legends of thine old renown.
To fancy's ear they utter speech
In tones unsyllabled before,
And every ripple on the beach
Seems faintly whispering, " Ensenore !

But one more passage is selected from his correspondence, before
his departure for Boston, for the purpose of consummating his mar
riage engagement with Miss Tarbell. He thus closes a letter,

* Ensenore, a poem, by Mr. Myers, a young gentleman of his parish,
and a superintendent of his Sunday school. The poem was founded on an
Indian legend ; and the scene was laid on the banks of the beautiful Lake
Owasco, the fairest of the seven sister lakes, which lie in a cluster in the neigh
borhood of Auburn.

264 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
September 19, to the Misses Clark, daughters of the late senior
warden of Christ Church, who, with their family, had always been
among the kindest of his own confidential friends, as well as those
of his betrothed : " I would fain speak on any subject, except my
late change. On that I cannot trust myself to say what I have felt,
and what I always must feel. It has been more in my thoughts by
day, end my dreams by night, than all things else, save one. Re
member me to those whom you know with yourselves to have been
especially dear to me. In that bright circle I include, with a ten
derness of regard which I am now free to express, our mutual
friend, Miss H  . The recollections of hours passed in sweet
society with you will be cherished as the greenest spots in the past ;
and hope ever mingles with them for their renewal hereafter."
Having now made the necessary arrangements for his journey,
he left Auburn on the 21st of September, and taking the convenient
route, by the way of Albany, New York, and Stonington, arrived at
Boston on the morning of the 24th. He had been borne along on
his journey by the most joyous anticipations, expecting a happy cir
cle of friends to meet him on his arrival. But, alas ! what a change
awaited him ! Grief had taken the place of gladness, and all hearts
were overwhelmed with sorrow. But the story must be told in his
own language. Writing to his father on the following day, he says,
" How presumptuous are our calculations of the future ! How little
we know what a day may bring forth ! I left New York at five on
Wednesday evening, and arrived here at seven yesterday morning,
after a most delightful trip, and in fine spirits. I was met near the
depot, by a message from Amanda, that her sister Mary died very
suddenly on Tuesday evening, by an attack of bleeding at the lungs,
to which she had nearly fallen a victim last winter. At five, P. M., she
was walking in the street, by midnight she wras a corpse ! This afflic
tive providence has overwhelmed the family with grief, and of course
affects our arrangements, to what extent 1 cannot say, but may
probably be able to inform you to-morrow. Mary was a lovely girl,
of great sweetness and gentleness of temper, naturally, and by the
discipline of affliction, of which she had had her share, made still
ino'e so. Her health had long been delicate, and her betrothed sev
eral years since fell a victim to consumption. She took the most
tender and affectionate interest in all Amanda's prospects, and was
waiting with some impatience for my return, to decide on the expe
diency of spending the winter with us at Auburn. Her friends felt
doubtful of her ability to take so long a journey ; but she herself
was sanguine of her sufficiency to bear it. How little any of us
thought she would be so soon journeying to a farther land, and the
house be the scene of such different solemnities ! She looks like one
just fallen asleep, and, I trust, in Jesus. The funeral takes place

1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 265
to-day. My impression is, that it will postpone our marriage for a
few days, but not longer. It will make it a reason why it should
be as strictly private as I always wished. I shall propose that it be
in the house, and in the presence of the family only. It gives a
more saddening and touching interest to the consecrated bond which
binds us together ; and I trust will complete any work which an
unfilled cup of adversity has left undone. May it be hallowed and
sanctified to us all."
The marriage was solemnized, on the 1st of October, at one
o'clock, P. M., in the presence of the family, and a very few friends,
the Right Rev. Bishop Griswold officiating on the occasion. The
parties, having taken leave of their friends, proceeded as far as
Springfield the same day. The next day they reached Hartford,
where they remained, receiving calls and congratulations, until the
day following. They then proceeded to New Haven, where the
bride was introduced, for the first time, to the family at the parson
age, to the mutual gratification of all parties. After spending a few
days in this pleasant interchange of courtesies, they again took up
their journey to their new home, and arrived at Auburn on the 10th.
In his first letter after their arrival, he acknowledges the receipt
of a beautiful copy of the Oxford Bible, from his brother Price, as
a wedding present — a gift on which he set a high value. He
adds, " We found every thing as it should be here.
Mrs. Lucas has done every thing to make our situation at the cot
tage agreeable. The parish also have been very kind and attentive.
We hope in a few days to have all matters in order at the par
sonage." The following letter, addressed to a number of ladies, who had
associated for the purpose of presenting him with a valuable parting
gift, must be given entire : —
St. Peter's Parsonage, Auburn, October 27, 1840.
My dear Friends : It is just a month to-day since I received at
your hands, as the representatives of many dear members of my late
flock in Boston, that costly token of your affection and regard,
which was intended "to recall to mind, in the sacred enclosure of
my home, wherever that home might be, the memory of those who
had been connected with me by such hallowed and endearing ties."
In the tumultuous and conflicting feelings of that solemn moment, I
could not command myself to express the emotions which well nigh
overpowered me ; and I now sit down, at this distance of time and
place, amidst new scenes of duty, and surrounded by the domestic
enjoyments with which God has blessed me beyond my deserts, to
record the acknowledgments to which my full heart has almost daily
given utterance. 34

236 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
May God reward you, and the dear friends whose names are as
sociated with yours in this renewed evidence of your attachment.
Highly as I cherished it while I was yet present with you, I could
myself have been but little aware how tenderly and proudly I should
treasure it in my absence from you. He only who has been sud
denly wakened from his dream of a permanent local habitation with
those whom he has most loved on earth, who has been called to bid
a reluctant adieu to the sacred scenes from which he fondly thought
never to have been severed but with Jife — he only can tell its inesti
mable value. Amid the salutary discipline of such trials, it reminds
him of something permanent and abiding. It speaks of rich and
precious affections, which " cannot be gotten for gold, neither can
silvfr be weighed for the price thereof." To live in such affec
tions, next to the approbation of his God, must be the highest de
light of the Christian. Long may this delight be ours on earth, and
after death, endure as the days of heaven. Let me urge you, as it
were my last dying request, to continue to nourish these affections
at the same holy altar where we have so long kneeled together.
Cleave steadfastly to the old paths, wherein you -have found rest
for your souls. Believe me, that there is not a street, a lane, or an
alley, which contains the dwelling-place of a parishioner, to which
I do not still feel an intimate relation ; and for the dear Church of
my first love, God is my witness that I have loved it beyond any
other abode, yea, that I have " preferred Jerusalem above my chief
joy." There I trust to meet you often in spirit before the throne
of grace ; there, should God spare my life, I look forward to the
time when we- shall be gathered together face to face, in my visits
to the city of my fathers, and be made more and more meet for our
citizenship in heaven. There, remember me in your prayers, that
we, who have parted with so many tears, may hereafter, before the sap
phire throne, and on the sea of glass, unite in the praises which the
soldiers of Him who loved us and died for us shall forever sing in
unison ! Affectionately and truly,
Yours, in the best of bonds,
WILLIAM CROSWELL.
Mrs. Joseph P. Couthouy, Miss Eunice T. Harris,
and the Ladies associated with them.
In a letter of the same date, addressed to one of these excellent
friends, he says, " The sight of so many familiar pieces of furniture
about us, and so many common subjects of interest between us,
make us already quite at home in the parsonage ; and instead of a
strange abode, every thing, at times, seems to go on just as it might
have been doing for the last twenty years. . . . Our house
is very comfortably furnished, and wc have abundance of in-door

1840.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 267
mutual delights. Our paths have been so long, however, haunted
by a few, dear, daily faces, that we cannot but deeply feel their loss ;
and we are vain enough to thiuk that it would be happy for them,
as well as ourselves, if they could be with us, at least for a little
while." Here may be added one or two brief extracts from a letter, of
about the same date, to Miss Callahan, whom he was always happy
to address as his " very dear friend." As the relative of his de
parted brother Winslow, and for her personal worth, he held her
in high estimation. " You cannot doubt," he says, " that I must
have been deeply touched by the affectionate and sympathizing ex
pression of your feelings, which awaited me on my return to Boston,
and by that dear little gift that accompanied them, the Lyra Apos-
tolica, ever to be fondly cherished for its own sake and yours, and
more from the value it acquired as being one ofthe favorite compan
ions of our beloved Winslow's last hours. . . . The little
book has been a great comfort to me in my lonely hours, and has
served to bind us all, living and dead, as it were, together, and in
the saints' communion. The tvvo beautiful pieces vvhich Benjamin
selected with so true an instinct are worth all the rest : indeed, there
is nothing else like them ; and my wife and I have read them over
and over again with increased delight, and a deeper consciousness
of their pure and soothing tendency, at every repetition. We seem
to hear the voice of the dear departed, who being dead yet speak
eth, especially when brought in connection with the very precious
relics of tree and flower, which you have sent us from his much
frequented grave. I trust, before many months, to visit that hal
lowed spot, and nourish the hopes that bid us, on God's assurance,
to look forward and upward, to the promise of eternal reunion
hereafter. Meanwhile, rest assured there is nothing you could have
given me which I should prize so highly, and with all the rest, the
cross is so delightfully associated."
The following passage is from "a letter to a particular friend, un
der date of November 30 : " The wind is blowing a gale about the
house, and ifi was as near to Christ Church as when we were last
together, I should have some reason to apprehend the doom of those
upon whom the tower of Siloam fell. As it is, if it should topple
down now, it will not rest upon my head, any more than the respon
sibility of vacating the pastoral chair. Last night, I perceive, the
institution office was once more to be repeated ; and to-day a new
shepherd walks abroad, with the guiding crook and staff of tvvo
surviving rectors. . . . If I do not congratulate the present
incumbent, 1 pray, with all sincerity, that he may be strengthened
for an arduous course of duty, —

268 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1840.
1 Having all boldness to rebuke,
And skill her griefs to cure,
And for his heavenly Master's sake
All patience to endure.'
It is a subject, of course, on which I cannot but think and feel
much, but on which it is wisest for me, at least, to say as little as
possible." With one more extract, the correspondence of the present year
must be closed. December 28 he thus writes to his father : " Since
I wrote last, we have been through all the elevating excitements of
another Christmas, and the wear and tear incident to the prepara
tion. The materials for decorating the sanctuary are not various
in this region, and hemlock is the only available evergreen at this
season. The young people, however, made the most of it ; and
you would hardly have supposed that all our verdure was of the
same species, wreaths, and boughs. We had a most delightful day,
and the church was well attended. . . . The music was fine
and inspiring ; and I trust many -a soul magnified the Lord, and
many a spirit rejoiced in God their Savior. It brought the past
very greenly to remembrance, and I was in many places besides
Auburn in the course of the day."
A peculiar interest is imparted to the following incident, by the
fact that the subject was an aged sea captain, who had been brought
up under Quaker influences, and though now, in his retirement, a
constant attendant on the worship of the Church, had always looked
upon the sacraments as mere matters of outward form, without any
binding force or spiritual efficacy : " On Wednesday evening before
Christmas, I had the satisfaction to administer baptism to old Captain
Gardner, in the presence of his family. It was a solemn and im
pressive scene, and I have hardly ever known an instance where it
was received with a deeper appreciation of the covenant blessings of
which it is the appointed sign and seal. He has since rapidly failed.
The light flickers in the candlestick, and will expire perhaps before
morning. He seems to be dying the death of a righteous man."
It may be proper to add, in this place, that Captain Gardner
lingered till the 10th of the ensuing January, when " he departed
without a struggle or a sigh, retaining his consciousness to the time
of his last sleep, and with a joyous hope in Christ, which robbed
Death of all his sting. He was buried from the church. The
whole population of the village gathered, as one large family,
to his funeral ; and though, at his own request, springing from a
desire to avoid parade and ostentation, there was no sermon deliv
ered then, that duty was performed on the following Sunday."

1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 269

1841.

Though his removal to Auburn very much increased the number
of his correspondents, a regular weekly interchange of letters was
kept up with his father. After arranging his file for the past year,
he says, January 4, " I have received just fifty-two letters, loaded
with the testimony to the passage of the weeks of 1840. They
are all before me in orderly array, like the uniform sheets of some
well-printed quarto." But he feels constrained, at the same time,
to apologize for the brevity of his own letters, and speaks of
them as comparatively meagre and unsatisfactory. " I would
fain promise," he says, " to do better in future ; but I fear I shall
not be able to keep my promise if I do. I cannot but feel very
sensibly, at this season, the lack of incident and excitement, which
used to give such an impression to their passage in Boston, and
of which those only who have experienced it can have any con
ception. Christmas and New Year have passed merrily and hap
pily, and I trust profitably, but very unlike, I must needs say, the
same blessed days at the east. I do not wish to make any invidious
contrasts ; but as one who has tried them both, I can say, that in
this respect there is nothing gained by the exchange. I have every
thing here to be thankful for, and I would not breathe to another
human being what I have said above. Every day seems to be
adding to my strength and acceptance with the people, and my
ability, of course, to do good. The parishioners are considerate
of what is due to the comfort and necessities of their minister ;
and their way of showing that they are so is quite as liberal, at
least, as in the quarters from whence I came. I do not, therefore,
commence the new year iii a repining or querulous spirit ; but you
must not be surprised if I fill my letters with nothing more interest
ing than our own household affairs week after week, of the winter at
least." No such apology was necessary. His letters were always
a delight to his father's household, even though literally confined to
private and domestic matters. But many things conspired at this
time to throw an air of despondency over his spirit. It was mid
winter, and the rigor of the climate, with a constant recurrence of
violent headache, with its general influence upon his physical and
mental powers, were more than sufficient to produce this effect.
But he still describes his pastoral relations as perfectly pleasant and
agreeable, and the parsonage as " quite a paradise."
January 11, on hearing of the sudden death of a beloved young
relative in New Haven, he thus writes : "The news of S  's
death was as sad as unexpected. I can hardly conceive of it, or

270 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
think of her except as I saw her last, in the flower of youth and
beauty. But I love to remember her, and so as I trust we shall all
see her again, and in still lovelier grace. Of all modes of bereave
ment, what so distressing 1 Her husband has indeed had sorrow
upon sorrow, in this and other ways, and I hope these repeated
visitations will not be lost upon him. As the years pass away with
such fearful swiftness, we should all remember how little time may
be left us for the great work we have to do, and act accordingly.
I bow my knees to God, that this dispensation may be sanctified to
us ; that we may meet in bliss, when these former things shall have
passed away." After alluding to many other trials which were
falling under his daily observation, he adds, " In the midst of all
these trials, we have every thing to be thankful for in the enjoy
ment of health, and in the kind appreciation of our friends and
parishioners. Our friends abroad are not forgetful of us, and let
ters are pouring in upon us from all quarters. They impose a
pleasant but somewhat laborious necessity upon us, in the way of
correspondence ; but, like those of housekeeping, they are pleasing
cares." January 28, he writes : " Monday, ' dear father, was St. Paul's
day, the twelfth memorable anniversary of my ministerial life ; and I
turned to look down the brief but crowded vista, and marked the
illuminated points gleaming on either hand, till it terminated in the
gate of the ordinal. ' No man taketh this honor to himself but
he that is called of God, as was Aaron.' And when we are all
dressed for it as was Aaron, (Herbert's Aaron, I mean,) may we
find as easy a passage hence, whether it be from Mount Hor pr
Mount Auburn." The beauty of this allusion will be the more ap
parent by reference to Herbert's "Aaron," of which the following is
the first stanza: —
" Holiness on the head ;
Light and perfections on the breast ;
Harmonious bells below, raising the dead,
To lead them unto life and rest ;
Thus are true Aarons dressed."
The following extract from the same letter is so characteristic of
the overflowing kindness of his heart, that it ought not to be with
held. The subject of it has long since passed beyond the reach of
earthly censure or praise ; and, as we have no reason to doubt, is
enjoying, in the paradise of God, the sweet communion and fellow
ship of his younger brother. " The Rev.  , who has
been lingering around here for the last fortnight, with a view of
establishing a school, now that he draws a pension from the fund
for disabled clergymen, has bestowed a full share of his tediousness

1841.| ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 271
upon us, and officiated on Sunday, P. M. He succeeded much
better than I had reason to suppose, and in private appears to such
a degree of advantage, both as a Christian and a man of intelli
gence, as to confirm me in the opinion I have often had occasion to
express, that we are most apt to deal uncharitably with a clergy
man who is unfortunate enough to be unpopular ; and that those of
whom they have most occasion to complain, in this respect, are their
own brethren in the ministry of reconciliation. He is not without
his faults, doubtless, — alas ! who is ? — but with regard to these, it is a
small matter to be judged of man's judgment. Let me fall into the
hands of the Lord, for his mercies are great ; but let me not fall into
the hands of men, especially when I am old and gray-headed, —
1 And days are dark, and friends are few,' —
and those whose sympathies we have most relied on, as being of the
house of our friends, inflict the severest wounds, and pierce us
through with words like sharp arrows. For my own part, the face
of a brother is so rare a sight in these parts, that I have derived
good satisfaction from many of my interviews with old Mr.  ."
Such passages as the following are frequently thrown out in his
familiar correspondence with his father. Nothing can furnish so
clear an index of the devout spirit that ever reigned in his heart.
This is under date of February 8, the day after communion. " It
was a delightful day, and we enjoyed the services greatly. If ever
the heart expands towards all, whether present or distant, who are
dear to us on earth, it is as we commemorate Him whose love is
stronger than death, and binds kindred minds to each other in the
holiest bonds of fellowship. In that spirit, I trust, I have regarded
you at those moments, and embraced you in the compass of the
petitions that then ascend to heaven." In the same letter he speaks
of having written to a lady to whom he had presented the original
lines, entitled "The Ordinal," and from whom he had received, at
the time, a beautiful sermon case, the first he had ever had occasion
to use. As for the ordination, he says, " The impressions produced
by those scenes can never be effaced by any through which I may
yet be called to pass. I could not but tell her how I dwelt on them,
and fed, as it were, on the manna of my past experiences.
Nor was my earliest sermon case forgot,
With velvet cover, and with vellum lined ;
The opening collects on the left-hand page,
And on the right-hand those of closing prayer,
With skill imprinted at the Wickham press.
Though soiled and worn, yet not more soiled and worn

272 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
Than are the dingy sheets I fasten in,
Oft as I preach contemporaneous notes.
Not so the truths themselves, nor truest love,
Decay and perish, though the world was old
And threadbare as the velvet, and the skies
Be shrivelled parchment at the day of doom ! "
February 15, he writes, " Yesterday we had but two services, as
I had rather a severe cold, and am desirous to be in full strength
for the extra services, which commence with the opening of the Lent
season. It is always as delightful as it is solemn, and fhe more so
now, as it comes invested with all the tender associations ofthe past.
Alas ! how difficult it is for me to realize, as I look at the picture
of Christ Church, which hangs before me, that a year has elapsed
since those agitations commenced which resulted in my removal
hither. I bless in my heart all those who pass through those an
cient gates, as often as they are now open, and trust they still find
it, as of old, ' all glorious within.' Doubtless there is reason to
believe that none "of these things, in the end, will be against me;
and it is not they who brought me hither, but God."
The next letters in course to his father and other correspondents
contain, among many interesting particulars, a sort of programme
of the proposed services for the approaching Lenten season. Febru
ary 22, his wife, acting as his amanuensis, writes, " Your son has been
suffering to-day from a severe sick headache, in consequence of over
exertion yesterday, and thinks it would be imprudent to make any
effort of this kind. ... I think a person must be very strong
to be able to officiate three times on Sunday, without injury. He
has never done so since he has been here without being obliged to
give up one day at least the ensuing week. He had a baptism yes
terday, in addition to three ordinary services. Last evening he com
menced a course of lectures on Confirmation, as the bishop proposes
to visit the parish on the Sunday before Easter. ... St. Peter's
is to be opened for the morning service and sermon, every Wednes
day and Friday during Lent. The people appear to be quite pleased
with this arrangement, and I hope will derive much benefit from it."
To this he adds a note : " I have been preparing myself for the
great fast, by passing a day of abstinence. I am just emerging from
headache, and can barely see to direct my pen. The spirit is will
ing, but the flesh is weak."
On the ensuing day, however, Shrove Tuesday, he again resumes
the pen, and writes to bis excellent friends and correspondents, Misses
Clark and Harris, in a strain as creditable to his own feelings as
it must have been grateful to theirs : " 1 was in dreamland a few
nights ago. I was, as usual in my visions, arranging things accord-

1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 273
ing to the order of my course at Christ Church, about the time of
the morning sacrifice. The sun was shining brightly. A carriage
drove up, and Helen's father [the late Thomas Clark, Esq., senior
warden of the church] stepped out, in his green and serene old age,
and shook me cordially by the hand. He said he must go a little
farther, but would shortly return. He was much animated, and
desired to have the hymn, commencing ' This is the day the Lord hath
made,' introduced into the service. I awoke, and, behold it was a
dream ! I shall never, however, read that hymn without recalling
it. The present season, indeed, always brings him most vividly to
my mind. I shall never forget the first Ash Wednesday service in
Boston. It was a warm and sunny day, and we opened the win
dows and door of the old vestry ; and the venerable warden went
down into the little yard, and seemed delighted with the green and
springing grass, as ' lessons sweet of spring returning.' I have
observed, on succeeding years, that Lent has generally opened in
the same way. ... I shall be disappointed if Ash Wednesday
does not correspond with all past experience. At all events, it will
bring up tbe past; and however thin St. Peter's may be to other
eyes, I shall be in the midst of a crowd of invisible worshippers.
May it be the beginning of a season, like the joy of grief, sad yet
pleasant to the soul — a season of yet more salutary discipline than
ever." Before he closes, he speaks of having received two letters
from his dear friend Couthouy, the last as late as October, over
flowing with love and tenderness, " but little dreaming," he says, " of
our late severance."
In a letter to his father, March 3, he copies, with much gratifica
tion, the Rev. Dr. Hook's invitation to Bishop Doane to visit
England, for the purpose of preaching at the consecration of the
Queen's new Chapel, Ripon ; and after alluding to other matters
of interest, he adds, " Every thing proceeds smoothly and delight
fully. We have services at the rate of some four or five per week,
including Sunday, and my health never was better. There will be
a respectable body of candidates for confirmation, including men
and women. I endeavor to preach faithfully, and to commend my
self to every man's conscience in the sight of God."
March 25, he writes that a clerical friend in New York had
informed him that the parish of Yonkers, a few miles from New
York, one of the best of country parishes, having a parsonage house
and glebe, and offering a liberal salary, would be vacant in the
ensuing May, and proposing, if he desired it, to interest himself in
his behalf. On this proposal he remarks, " I like every thing in
this situation but the name ; and if the suggestion had been made a
twelvemonth since, I should have been tempted to accept, by reason
of its vicinity to all our friends in New York, and so on eastward.
At present, I do not think it would be quite fair to entertain it.
35

274 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
There could not be a kinder aud more unanimous people than that
to which it has been my privilege to minister ; nor can I positively
say that the climate does not suit me, until I have tried the full
circle' of the months."
April 7, he speaks of the confirmation held on the day previous
in terms of great satisfaction. " The bishop's visit," he says, " was
short, but we lived a great while in a little time." Of the bishop's
manner of performing his sacred functions, his description is highly
eulogistic, but entirely just, as well as discriminating. His sketch is
the picture of a model prelate.
On Easter Tuesday he writes, " We had daily service and sermon
in Passion Week, two on Good Friday, and three on Easter.
The bishop's visit was all that we could have desired, and
the happiest effects have followed. All my candidates for confirma
tion (seventeen) came to the communion, and so did several others,
and the largest attendance, it was remarked to me, that had ever
been observed before."
April 26, he says, " I have sent, at cousin's request, a few lines,
written in the chamber where Bishop Hobart died, to the Northern
Light " — a new literary work published in Albany. These lines
are copied here from a manuscript found among his private
letters : —

LINES
WRITTEN IN THE CHAMBER WHERE BISHOP HOBART DIED, ON TBE 12TH OP
SEPTEMBER, 1830.
Our house, whereon dark clouds have lowered,
Is once more desolate,
And hushed the solemn chamber where
The good man met his fate.
Pass lightly up the echoing stairs,
And look in silence round,
And take thy shoes from off thy feet,
For this is holy ground.
Here stood, erewhile, his dying couch,
Against this crimsoned wall,
Where, quivering through the locust leaves,
The setting sunbeams fall.
Here last he saw yon glorious orb,
Like his, descending low,
And through the casement pour, as now,
That rich, autumnal glow.

1841.1 ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 275
But dwell not on the painful scene,
Nor, rapt in vision, muse,
Till in the sadness of the past
The present good we lose.
No sun could make more golden set,
Nor leave a track more bright,
Than his, whose radiant memory still
Fills all our courts with light.
Look earthward forth, and see, fast by
The oracle of God,
And mark the well-worn churchyard path,
The last his footsteps trod.
Pass through the Gothic porch, and view
The chancel's choicest trust,
Where " all but speaks," in lifelike grace,
His monumental bust.
The pilgrim at Iona's shrine
Forgets his journey's toil,
As faith rekindles in his breast
On that inspiring soil ;
And those who trace in Heber's steps
Carnatic wood and wave,
A portion of his spirit seek
By their apostle's grave.
And here our prophet's sons shall oft
Their father's ear recall,
And here, on each successor's head,
His reverend mantle fall.
" Here may they hope to fill the breach,
Like him the plague to stay,
While in his thrilling tones they preach,
And with his fervor pray."
Thus, Auburn, shall thy hallowed haunts
Be sought from age to age,
And hither sons of holy Church
Make pious pilgrimage.
And though some bitter memories
Must dash the past with pain,
Sweet village, thou shalt ever be
" The loveliest of the plain ! "
St. Peter's Parsonage, Auburn, September 12, 1840.

276 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
In a letter of May 5, in which he announces, among other things,
his intention of making the earliest arrangements in his power for a
visit with his wife to his eastern friends, he throws in the following :
"I rode twenty miles yesterday, to marry one of my parishioners,
and returned with the wedding party, about nine last evening. It
was the hardest day's work that I have accomplished in many years.
We all thought the roads the roughest possible, except the happy
bridegroom, who seemed to have little to do with what was of the
earth. We passed through scenery which would have made a glori
ous landscape in the prime of summer ; but it is the greater aggra
vation to look at such scenes prematurely as they are. Our route
carried us by two of the ' seven small lakes ' that diversify this re
gion, and which are, in various ways, very picturesque. I have now
been in sight of all of them, except Canandaigua and Crooked
Lake, which I hope also some day to look upon."
The fondly anticipated journey was commenced on the 17th of
May ; and passing through, and calling on their friends in Utica,
Albany, and New York, they arrived at New Haven on the 20th.
Here they remained, busily and pleasantly employed in visiting, until
the 26th, when they again pursued their journey, and taking Hart
ford and Springfield on their way, arrived at Boston on the 27th.
He next writes to his father, May 29, from an inn in Cambridge,
while waiting for the omnibus to take liim to Boston. This letter
is chiefly taken up with a rapid sketch of their journey, after leav
ing New Haven, and with their reception at Boston, which appears
to have been peculiarly gratifying. " To-morrow," he says, " I
preach at the navy yard in the morning, for brother Searle, and
in the afternoon at Christ Church. On Trinity Sunday I shall pass
the whole day at Trinity Church." Among other things, he speaks
thus feelingly of meeting his esteemed correspondent, Mr. Couthout :
" My old friend from the exploring expedition returned night before
last, and nothing could have compensated for the disappointment,
had we missed seeing each other."
In his letter of June 7, he mentions, as a chief point of gratifi
cation, his meeting Bishop Doane, and attending him on board the
packet, the Caledonia, in which he had taken his passage for Eng
land, to fulfil his engagement with Dr. Hook ; and after relating
many pleasant incidents, he continues : " I was at Trinity all day
on Sunday, and at the Mission Church at evening, and have no
prospect of any real repose till I reach Auburn again, if indeed I
do then. We have both been excited and exhausted, as if on an
episcopal visitation. I am tempted, on this account, to delay our
return for another week, and the rather as we shall not probably
be this way again for a long time."
Next, dating from Auburn, Saturday evening, June 19, he says

1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 277
" I am at my round table once more, with scenes of verdure all
about me, and the fragrance of our churchyard locusts filling our
premises with the most grateful incense. We evacuated Boston
on Wednesday morning, the anniversary of the battle of Bunker
Hill, and had a parting salute of cannon and bell ringing." He
then proceeds to give the details of the journey, by the way of
Pittsfield, Hudson, Albany, TJtica, &c. " We find," he says, " all
well, with the exception of one case of bitter bereavement, which
has thrown a worthy family into the greatest distress ; an only child,
a fine boy of four years old, the last of several, having been
snatched away by croup. The father is perfectly broken down, and
I feel that I ought to have been here. With my present feelings,
indeed, I shall be slow to leave my cure very soon again. Our
people have been very indulgent, and find no fault ; but they have
had service but one Sunday during my absence ; and such intervals
of suspension, of course, cannot but do any church harm.
In the mean time, while they have been starving, I have been feed
ing strange flocks, and seeing all sorts of people excepting those
given especially to my charge, at a rate which I should have
thought very severe, had I been in my own place. Surely, I am
delighted to get back. Auburn never looked so like ' the loveliest
village of the plain.' ... I can conceive nothing more de
lightful than a trip this way, for mother, or any of you, or a pleas-
anter resting-place than the parsonage now affords, for the end of
the journey. The sooner you take up your line of march, the
better for all parties."
This suggestion is further followed up in his next letter : " The
parsonage is all in readiness to receive you, and all that you may
bring in your train ; and it is looking delightfully all around us.
At the same time, I cannot deny, that the summer atmosphere is, in
general, peculiarly damp, and not exactly what I could wish. We
sleep, as it were, by enchantment, at all hours of the day, and
languor and lassitude beset us. I trust, however, you will not be
discouraged, though ' a pleasing land of drowsihead it is, and dreams
that wave before the half-shut eye.' You will find many friends
here, besides those that you have seen ; and your coming is looked
for with great expectation."
A letter of the 6th of July contains an amusing sketch of the
manner in which the anniversary of American independence had
just been celebrated ; but only one or two short passages are cited,
merely for the purpose of showing how innocently a clergyman may
subject, himself to unmerited censure, and how utterly impossible it
is for associated bigotry to change its character. " On the 4th,"
he says, " Auburn was any thing but a deserted village. All Cayuga
county was here. We had tvvo celebrations. The regular ' old line,'
appealing to the whole community, at vvhich I officiated.

278 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
The tee-totallers collected all their strength for an opposition display,
and of course greatly outnumbered us. Indeed, it required no little
moral courage to appear in what was stigmatized as the ' drunkards' '
procession ; for so they honored our celebration ; and the Presby
terian minister, who was to have been associated with me, backed
out, at the eleventh hour, having been frightened by some of his
fanatical parishioners." He does not close this letter without once
more urging forward the visit of his parents : " We are all delighted
at the prospect of seeing mother and yourself here so soon, and
trust that nothing will prevent you from effecting our hearts' desire.
The visit will not only do you good, and us of the parsonage, but is
an event in which the parish manifest a very lively interest."
All the satisfaction here anticipated was probably derived from
the arrival of the visitors at the parsonage. They were received
with every demonstration of dutiful affection by their son and
daughter, who, with their friends and parishioners, were indefatigable
in their exertions to render the visit pleasant. The following day
being Sunday, the public services were rather unequally divided
between the rector and his father — the latter being persuaded to
occupy the pulpit both morning and afternoon, and to bear his part
in the other duties. The next two days were spent in interchanging
civilities with friends, and in visiting some of the prominent objects
of curiosity and interest in the village and vicinity. The state
prison with its seven hundred convicts, laboring in their several trades
and occupations, though a dismal spectacle, was not to be passed by.
But it was to the attractive scenery in the neighborhood that the
visitors' attention was most pleasantly called. Owasco Lake, with
its enchanting shores of hills and groves, and Skeneateles Lake,
with its tasteful village, were among the places which they found
time to visit. But in the midst of this brief enjoyment, the rector
was summoned away on Tuesday night to Rochester, on a most
unwelcome duty. He was appointed by the ecclesiastical authority
on a court of inquiry, to investigate certain charges of a scandalous
nature, which had been preferred against a presbyter of that place.
He was detained the whole of the next day in examining witnesses,
and the investigation resulted in presenting the offender for trial.
It may be sufficient to say of the case, that it cost him a good deal
of anxiety and pain ; and although he indulged, at first, a charitable
hope that the accused might prove his innocence, this, unhappily
for the Church, and for the accused, was not the case. He has
tened back to Auburn on Thursday night ; but only in time to take
leave of his parents and other friends, who had no alternative but
to take their departure in the midnight train.
In a familiar letter to his friend Couthouy, July 24, he urges
him to escape from the heated walls and stifled thoroughfares of the
city, and cool off in some such rural retreat as Auburn. He admits

1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 279
that, even there, it is warm enough. But he says, " I can lead you
to cool and sunless groves hard by, which are a refreshment to think
of, like the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. You will find
that I have some passion left yet for natural history, and will
accompany you on such exploring expeditions as will be for your
health and recreation. Several parties of our friends have been
already here, this summer, and find it very tolerable. My father
and mother were among the last. They spent a few delightful days
with us."
In turning again to his correspondence with his father, it may be
well to note one of those melancholy and striking transitions from
light to shade, to vvhich bitter experience had made him no stranger.
It was at a moment when they were enjoying a most welcome visit
from his wife's sister Elmira, that a gentleman arrived from Boston
with the startling intelligence that Mrs. Tarbell, their mother, had
been taken suddenly and dangerously sick, and that her case was
such as to require the immediate return of her daughter. This was
but a prelude to the painful result. Mrs. Tarbell died on the 7th
of August ; and he announces the event in a style which the
bereaved will well know how to appreciate. " My wife," he says,
"has borne up very wonderfully under the shock. She feels, of
course, as an affectionate child cannot but feel under such a bereave
ment. She has been called to pass through many trials, within a
few short months ; but what trial is there like the loss of a mother,
and such a mother especially as she now mourns 1 Mrs. Tarbell
was a most excellent and exemplary lady, in all the relations of life,
and her virtues endeared her to all who knew her, and will be cher
ished, as their choicest legacy, by her family. . . . Elmira
arrived home about twenty-four hours before her death, and was
gratified with an opportunity of seeing her in the full possession of
all her powers, and in the calm and Christian contemplation of her
approaching dissolution."
But this cloud of sorrow had scarcely crossed his path before he
was permitted again to enjoy a gleam of light from another branch
of his family connections. He announces, in a letter of the 16th of
August, the welcome intelligence of the birth of his father's first
grandchild, a son of his brother Sherman Croswell, of Albany.
On this occasion, he falls into a train of pleasant and appropriate
reflections, citing the language of the Psalms and the classics, to
show the blessedness of those whose " children are like the olive
branches round about their table."
" Sons in our prime, no shaft so bright ;
Blest he who fills his quiver so ;
They unabashed may claim their right,
And in the gate defy their foe."

280 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
After attending the convention of the western diocese of New
York, at Utica, he thus alludes, in a letter of September 3, to a
malady, from which he was seldom or never exempt for any con
siderable length of time. As an apology for delaying his letter, he
says, " Two or three of the days generally devoted to correspond
ence have been given up, I find, to the headache, which still haunts
me, and follows as the night the day, or as effect grows out of
cause, after any overdoing or excitement." And he afterwards
adds, " I am sometimes disposed to ascribe my headaches to being
overworked, and in study I trust I have something to show for
myself." Such admissions are not often found in his letters, as they
were sure to call forth from his friends the most earnest expostula
tions to desist from such labors as might be deemed excessive. But
from his private journal it appears that these attacks were not only-
frequent, but in many cases extremely distressing.
Speaking incidentally at this time of the great amount of his
correspondence, he says, " This is the seventh long letter I have
sent off within a few days, and I sometimes think, if I had made a
circular of them, I might have made one good letter, instead of
spoiling half a dozen." It is to be presumed, however, that his
correspondents formed a very different estimate of the value of their
respective letters, and that neither of the seven would have been
willing to merge an exclusive claim in the geueral property of a
circular. Among these letters, one is found addressed to his friend
Couthotjy, who, it seems, had been waiting rather impatiently for
a response to one of his own communications. He acknowledges
the receipt of this letter in highly flattering terms, and begins by
remarking, "From what I learn from Cambridge, I should infer that
you had been ravenous for a reply. In such a case, I must deal
with you as a skilful leech does with a morbid appetite, which is
sometimes, you know, a shocking bad symptom — put you on severe
diet and short allowance, administering' very little at a time, and that
not very often, keeping all high-seasoned and exciting dishes out of
your reach, and feeding you with a sort of water-gruel messes.
Ecce signum ! " He proceeds in a similar vein ; but the entire let
ter is so full of local, private, and personal allusions and anecdotes,
that it cannot be spread on these pages.
Having concluded to attend the opening of the session of the
General Convention at New York, on the 6th proximo, he writes,
September 23, " As I attend the convention simply as a member of
that large and respectable branch known as the third house, my duty
to my constituents will not require me to be present during the
whole session. I only propose to leave here on Monday, stay just
long enough to set you well a-going, and return to my place on the
Saturday following." All this was accomplished, so far as the com
mencement was concerned. He was present on the assembling of

1841.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 281
the convention, and derived great enjoyment from the service. He
met great numbers of his friends, and had an opportunity to spend
much time with his father, who was among the delegates to the con
vention. He left New York on Friday, taking abundant time, as
he supposed, to reach home on Saturday. But in consequence of
an unfortunate detention of the boat on the river, he did not arrive
in Auburn until Sunday, and at too late an hour for the morning
services. In the afternoon, however, he opened his church, and
though quite indisposed from a severe cold, resumed his duties. " I
found all well here," he says, in a letter to his father, " and my wife
had set the house in fine order. I realized more strongly than ever,
when I reached it, that there is no place like home." Writing
again, he says, " It would of course have given me great delight to
have extended my visit to New Haven ; but, as it was, I crowded
into the week rather more than it could hold, and more than was
good for me bodily. The wear and tear of travel, by night and
day, affect me more than some journeyers, and do not seem to
diminish by any experience I have had of it."
The following extract from a letter of November 16 is worth
recording, as foreshadowing a policy which the Church has since
found it expedient and necessary to adopt, in her efforts to extend the
gospel in the far west : " I am sorry to hear such melancholy tid
ings of young Prindle.* I have the impression that he had not
stamina enough to hold out long under the weight of the ministry
any where. But our frontier service is truly full of peril to an east
ern constitution especially ; and in the climate of Missouri, like
that of India, it would seem that labor is death. I see by the
Churchman that many of Bishop Kemper's new recruits have with
drawn rather abruptly from positions so full of danger, and which in
no respect, I presume, can be regarded as inviting fields of duty.
Unless the sons of the soil can be educated on the spot for the work,
I fear there will be but a small chance of a satisfactory supply for
the demands vvhich the great west so urgently presents for meeting
her spiritual necessities."
At about this time he speaks of having received an intimation
that his services might be wanted in another, part ofthe diocese, and
says, " I am perfectly satisfied that the western diocese has nothing
more inviting in its borders than this parish. I shall endeavor to
seek no other country, except a heavenly ; though not without the
secret longing to return one day to the familiar haunts of New Eng
land." This is followed by another characteristic passage : " I have
been invited to deliver a poem at Geneva, at the next commence-
* The Rev. Charles Prindle, who was sinking under a fatal disease, con
tracted in his western mission. 36

282 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1841.
ment ; which I have thought proper on consideration to decline, for
good and sufficient reasons, as I regard them. I appreciate notwith
standing, very highly, the honor conferred upon me by this flattering
invitation, and have expressed myself accordingly."
In a subsequent letter, after hearing of the death of Mr. Prindle,
he writes, " Though I knew but little of Mr. Prindle, it was enough
to make me deplore his loss to the Church ; and I can think what a
pang it must cost the now desolate and aged heart whose chief hope
he' was. As one who was faithful over few things, he has doubtless
entered into the joy of the Lord ; and those who know the trials of
a long ministry, might almost envy his early removal. How true
and touching is that thought of Southey ! —
' Happy he
Who to his rest is borne
In sure and certain hope,
Before the hand of age
Has chilled his faculties,
Or sorrow reached him in his heart of hearts.'
We have many like daily instances of mortality among the clergy
to teach us how frail we are — the earliest summoned, and the latest
spared. The aged Bishop Moore's turn has come at last, unex
pectedly, I presume, to all but himself. At General Convention, he was
the very picture of a green old age. He was like a shock of corn
in his season, and was gathered to his fathers in the ripeness of his
graces, and with a heart younger than his years. May our sun make
as serene a set, and our lot be with his and that of all those who
depart hence in the Lord."
In a letter to his friend Couthouy, of December 14, he speaks
of some of his occupations after this manner : " Pleasant as my par
ish is, I am delighted to tell you that it is no sinecure, though that
is among the reasons why I do not write oftener. Being the only
minister of the apostolic succession among a crowd of preachers of the
Independent and Presbyterian invention, and what Father Haskell,
in his visit to me last summer, called the Baptist disorder, and not
being of particularly bad report among the people, my services are
in considerable request for extra occasions. On Thursday last, our
Thanksgiving day, I preached, in part, on undue festivity, and was
obliged to reduce my precepts to practice, by leaving immediately
after service, without food or drink, in a drenching rain, to attend a
funeral and preach a sermon at a little settlement ten miles distant,
on the canal, called Port Byron, like lucus a non lucendo, perhaps
because there is nothing portly or poetical about it. But you know
we have first-rate names in this part of the world, if we have nothing

1841.1 ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 283
else. The highways, you have some reason to remember, are not
royal roads ; the soil is quite too fertile for that ; but you can hardly
begin to conceive the state of the by-ways, when that same dust
which was so deep last summer has been soaked to the centre by
this abundant moisture, and our freedom thus far from any thing like
severe frost. It was quite a different affair from riding out to Lee
Vale to take a Thanksgiving dinner. I did realize, however, that it
is better to go to the house of mourning than that of feasting ; and
I returned in season to share the hospitalities of the excellent pa
rishioner, where my wife was spending the day." He remarks,
before he closes, "I have declined being poet at Geneva College
next year, on the ground of being preacher of the muses." He
acknowledges, however, that he has been induced, by his cousin of
the Albany Argus, to prepare another New Year's ode for that
paper. The pleasure is here indulged of transcribing a long extract
from a familiar letter of December 15, addressed to one of the
Misses Clark, with whose family he cherished the most intimate
and affectionate relations to the day of his death : " H  s' letter,
dear L  , came yesterday, like a gleam of sunshine in the midst
of those dark and gloomy days, which, though remarkably mild for
the season, seem to be shut in from morning to night with a dull
drapery of perpetual cloud, making their proverbial shortness still
shorter. Though we rise early, and late take rest, little is accom
phshed in the interval except the most pressing duties. The antici
pation of seeing H  herself here in person is, you may be sure,
a very pleasant one to entertain ; and the reality will help to abridge
the winter more than I can well express. I leave that to my wife
to tell ; and in the mean time, you must do what you can in the way
of letters to prevent our isolation here. I rejoice to inform you
that the ark of God's magnificent and awful cause intrusted to me
continues to ride on prosperously, and I trust because of its truth
and righteousness. The return of the solemn Advent season seems
to have been productive of deep spiritual impression on the liearts
of the people ; and my own has not, I hope, been insensible to the
reaction. Much as I have yet to learn in the discharge of my
momentous ministerial responsibilities, I cannot but be happily,
though humbly, conscious that God has taught me, in these last
years, how to apply his truth less as one who runs uncertainly, and to
fight less as one that beateth the air. . . . The associations of
the time carry me back to all the annual round of other days, and
the loved and lost, the living and the dead, with whom we have made,
and — precious hope ! — are still, one communion."
His last letter for the year to his father is hasty, sketchy, and
desultory, with many private and confidential allusions ; from whicli,
however, one or two passages are detached. He mentions the

284 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
departure of a delegation to attend the celebration of the completion
and opening of the Great Western Railroad from Boston, via Albany,
to Auburn, and adds, "I was invited to accompany the party, and
would gladly have done so at any other season. At present, I can
hardly be spared for a day. Meanwhile I share in the general
enthusiasm ; and if we have no particular cause to exclaim, with
William Howitt, ' Thank God for mountains ! ' we have reason to
thank him for railroads. We sent several sprigs of our Christmas
evergreens to our Christ Church friends, to show them that we were
only twenty-four hours apart, in case of emergency, and how easy
it was for Burnam Wood to come to Dunsinane." He had passed
the Christmas festivities pleasantly and satisfactorily, and had dis
charged a great amount of duty ; but amid it all he found time to
prepare and send off to the Argus what he calls " a versification
of proverbial philosophy, under the guise of Poor Richard, Jr.,
earnestly hoping, however, that it might be superseded by rhymes of
a more sportive strain." In this hope, it will be seen, he was dis
appointed. The verses appeared in the Argus on the first of Jan
uary ; and from thence are transferred to the opening record of the
year.

1842.

FROM THE DESK OF POOR RICHARD, JR.
A happy New Year, patrons, friends!
Incline a gracious ear
To what Poor Richard, junior, sends
To prove his wish sincere ;
And do not grudge, he says, to take
Out of his earthen jar
True treasures, for the giver's sake,
If they true treasures are.
As pure, through Bozra's shallowest stream,
Oft glitter grains of gold,
And fair the blessed flowerets gleam
From sods all dull and cold ;
So those who prized old Richard's prose,
Will not to-day disdain
Whatever wholesome precept glows
Beneath the carrier's strain.

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 285
Ye who would change these evil days,
And have them truly blest,
Must make, in ancient Richard's phrase
Of every thing the best :
And each, though knowing hut in part
The mystery of sin,
Must cure, in his own evil heart,
His evil's origin.
The secret is, Poor Richard says,
But understood by few,
That they have happiest New Year's days
Who have the most to do :
The poor rejoiceth in his tasks,
With present good content,
And sweet his daily bread who asks
But to be innocent.
He little knows the bitter cost
At which the rich increase ;
The hours of sweet composure lost,
And compensating peace ;
He httle knows their waking toils,
Their visions of distress,
Who dream, amid their hoarded spoils,
Of fortune's fickleness.
Cups strive to hold, Poor Richard writes,
The bucket's draught in vain ;
Nor can man's straitened appetites
More than their fill contain.
Enjoyment has its bounds, though deep
Be wealth's unfailing spring,
And all our chiefest comforts keep
In moderation's ring.
Labor to pleasure giveth zest
Which gold can never win ;
Cheap recreations are the best,
And none so dear as sin.
True joy is where yon visitant
Some broken spirit cheers,
And where the pale, lank cheek of want
Is wet with grateful tears.
A bold, bad man, or fool, is he
Who dare the cup refuse

286 MEMOLR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
Which mercy mixeth lovingly,
And would his neighbor's choose.
We know the worst of what we are,
But not another's curse ;
And certain bad is better far
Than dread of something worse.
Poor Richard knows full well distress
Is real, and no dream ;
And yet life's bitterest ills have less
Of bitter than they seem.
Meet like a man thy coward pains,
And some, be sure, will flee ;
Nor doubt the worst of what remains
Will blessings prove to thee.
And thou, whose days abundance bring,
Give needy men their due ;
Who saves the poor from suffering,
May.save from sinning too.
And t>e thou slow to wield the rod
When others do thee wrong,
And bear a while with them, when God
Hath borne with thee so long.
On you alone, of lily kind,
Effeminate and pale,
Who idle in the summer wind,
Poor Richard fain would rail,
Because ye have not toiled and spun
As sister lilies might,
Nor are ye wise as Solomon,
Though gaudier to the sight.
Your only place, ye well-arrayed, —
Poor Richard thinks, — for whom
The world is under tribute laid
For finery and perfume,
Soon as your saponary hair
Is long enough to braid,
Should be with some man-milliner,
To learn a genteel trade.
These are a few of Richard's rules ;
Nor does he much expect
To found, amid the rival schools,
A very numerous sect ;

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN 287
Nor will he longer moralize,
Lest he should prove severe ;
Enough is said to help the wise
To make a happy year ! 
January 1, 1842.

While thus throwing off, for the amusement and instruction of
the readers of the Argus, these quaint versifications of Poor Rich
ard's proverbial philosophy, he was apparently indulging in a
sweeter and sublimer strain, for the solace of himself or some
distant friend. The following stanzas are found in their first rough
draught among some loose manuscripts, without any date, and
have probably never appeared in print : —
My muse is no migrating bird,
Nor one that sleeps the cold away ;
But in her parlor cage is heard
Still piping her perennial lay.
While o'er the sea her tribes retire,
She, like some patient editor,
Keeps, from the prison by the fire,
The household in a cheerful stir.
What dearer lesson to impart
To murmuring minds than her rich song ? —
" Abate no jot of hope or heart,
Though days grow short, and cold grows strong.
Though pent up in a straitened room,
Break out, like me, in merriest strain,
And rise above the circling gloom
Till better days come round again.''
How much we need such song of cheer,
He will not ask, who looks, I ween,
Where through the portals of the year
The wintry world without is seen ;
He will not ask who sees the sky
Lowering with grim and murky face,
Or hears the boding frost-wind sigh
Around his ice-bound dwelling-place.
He will not ask who sees the crowd,
In twilight dim, so hurrying past,
All muffled to the eyes, and bowed
Before the keen and biting blast ;

288 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
He will not ask who promptly goes,
On such a night, at duty's call,
Mid hail, and sleet, and drifting snows,
And storm-drops freezing as they fall.
He will not ask who has to do,
These dismal times, with suffering men,
And follows famine's ghastly crew
To misery's cold and squalid den,
Where fires are out, or burning low,
And through broad chinks and broken panes
The scythe-like air sweeps to and fro,
Curdling the life-blood in the veins.
He will not ask who climbs the stair,
Where, reft of fuel, fire, and food,
A mother sits, like wan despair,
Benumbed amid her huddling brood ;
Where hopeless woe and hunger steel
To every form of ill the mind,
Half crazed by sense of what they feel,
And fear of what is worse behind.
O, wouldst thou keep thy heart in tune
'Mid fireside joys, thy spirit lift,
Like song of bird in gay saloon,
Or blossoms in the snowy drift ;
With deeds of love thy joys expand,
And deal the blessings of thy lot
On every side, with generous hand,
To aching throngs that have them not.
Go, warm the cold ; go, clothe the bare ;
Go, feed the starved ones at thy door ;
And let the empty-handed share
From out thy basket and thy store ;
Go, wipe from misery's eye the tear,
Take by the hand affliction's son,
And happy shall be all the year
That is thus happily begun.
Go, give the sick and weary rest ;
Gladden the cells where prisoners lie ;
Pour balm and oil in wounded breast,
And soothe the soul about to die.

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 289
Go, where thy name a blessing draws
From rescued lips, on such employ ;
Partake the bliss of those who cause
The widow's heart to sing for joy.
Do thus, and thou shalt go to rest
With music round thy midnight bed,
And, blessing, shall be trebly blessed
For each such soul thus comforted.
Thy sun shall make a golden set
This New Year's day, and be by far
The happiest day that ever yet
Was lettered in thy calendar !

The parsonage, at this time, appears to have been the very centre
of domestic comfort and social enjoyment. But still, to complete
their happiness, the inmates longed for the companionship of some
of their Boston friends ; and the following extract, from a familiar
letter of March 17, will show how pleasantly that want was supplied:
" Since I wrote last, we have been most agreeably surprised by the
unexpected arrival of Captain Couthouy, having under guardianship
our dear friend Helen C  — , whom we have been importuning all
winter to visit us, but had received no encouragement to expect our
proposals would be accepted. The captain has an appointment to
superintend the arrangement ofthe natural history specimens received
at the National Institute at Washington, which will give him employ
ment, for which he is admirably fitted, for the coming year. He
spent two or three days here, vvhich were too pleasant for any thing
but holidays, and almost too great an indulgence for the season.
The prospect of having Miss C  domesticated with us, for
some months at least, has given quite a new aspect to our affairs,
and my wife feels as if it were almost like going to Boston." This
was written towards the close of Lent — a season during which he
had been endeavoring to awaken a new interest in the parish, by an
increase of his labors, and by adding to the number of his public
services. During these laborious duties he was often admonished,
by the recurrence of his old malady, the headache, and by the
demands for medical treatment, that his health was probably suffer
ing by these excessive exertions. But every selfish consideration
was merged in the desire to do good to others ; and he pursued, to
the end ofthe season, a course which he deemed most conformable
to his duty to his God and his people. But to show that rest, when
it could be consistently indulged, was most welcome to him, it is
only necessary to cite a single passage from his letter dated Monday
in Easter week : " The labors of the Lent season are now fairly over
37

290 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
and we can once more breathe freely." Speaking of parish matters,
he says, "At our parish meeting, to-day, the best spirit seemed to
prevail. At my suggestion, we had a statement of the moneys
raised and disbursed by the parish since last Easter printed and
distributed in the pews yesterday, for the information of the parish,
which has helped to produce a very happy effect." To this allusion
to the temporalities of the Church, he adds, " What ought now
chiefly to occupy my anxieties is, that the spiritual interests of the
parish should not be allowed to suffer in my hands. The bishop
writes me that he purposes to confirm on Whit-Sunday. I hope we
shall have some candidates."
His several letters tp his father and other correspondents, in the
month of April, are chiefly occupied with private matters; but the
critical remarks on tvvo popular authors, in the following passage,
are well worth transcribing: "We have just received from Mrs.
Carpenter a copy of Stephens's Central America, the reading of
which I have hitherto postponed, since I knew she had it in store
for me. I anticipate a large share of the universal interest it affords.
I have seen enough only to make me regret that some thorough
paleographist could not be employed in deciphering the hieroglyph-
ical inscriptions on the ruins of those ancient cities. At present we
are perusing Robinson with great satisfaction, from the entire con
fidence that is to be placed on the soundness of his judgment, as
well as the profoundness of his learning and his scrupulous accu
racy. He seems to have expected to find no hair-breadth escapes
and perilous adventures wherewith to take romantic readers cap
tive, and accordingly found none. The dangers and encounters,
which fill so many pages in Stephens and other popular travels,
either do not exist at all, or are greatly magnified by a lively imagi
nation. At any rate, they did not make a sufficient impression on
Robinson's mind to find place on his record. His work is quite
as instructive and valuable to the judicious, notwithstanding."
From his May correspondence larger selections may be made ;
not, however, without a due regard to the rules of propriety and
delicacy. On the 4th he writes, " Virgil, dear father, was great
among the ancients for his pastorals ; but truly his pastorals were
nothing to yours, though there is not quite so much poetry in these
last. There is something better, however. Like Moses, you
have the burden of a great people upon you ; but your arms are
strengthened, like his, in the day of necessity ; and I trust, like his,
your, bow will long abide in strength. As I have often remarked to
you, doubtless the labor often seems hard to you, (most men it would
overpower,) but it would seem much harder for you not to labor
while it is called to-day. For my own part, I often wish that I had
more to do here. The cares of the parish do not often sit heavy
enough to .be really felt. I have preached and exhorted, in season

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 291
and out of season, as some would think; but there is nothing to
encourage me that there will be a large number to present for con
firmation. The angel of our church will need to have grace, like
that of St. Peter, on the first Whit-Sunday, to prick this multitude
at the heart, and raise the main question, What must we do ? We
have full congregations of respectful and attentive hearers; but they
are too apt to be 'hearers only.' Men are not forward, as you
would suppose they could not but be, to confess the faith of Christ
crucified. However, we are not without some examples. We shall
baptize to-morrow, probably, several adults, it being Ascension day,
and more, I think, on the Sunday following."
The bishop's visit is noted in his next letter, May 17, on which he
held an ordination and confirmed fourteen persons. " It was," he
says, " a memorably impressive day, never to be forgotten. The
number of candidates, though not large, will be, I trust, the first
fruits of a greater harvest by and by."
Miss Helen C  's return to Boston afforded him an oppor
tunity to address several letters to his friends, all dated on the 25th
of May. To his friend Couthotjy he writes, " Helen has, at sun
dry times and in divers manners, visited the haunts of Fort Hill and
the Little Falls. Every thing is now verdant and vernal as spring
can make. The trees are in full leaf, vocal at early prime, with
most musical, most melancholy notes. The robin that in the church
yard builds her nest has been pouring forth a continuous swell of
plaintive melody, in lamentation as it were of Helen's departure.
I trow she will think of it sometimes, when she conies across that
passage of the old eighty-fourth : ' The birds, more happy far than I,
around thy temple throng.' The leaves of the locust are large
enough to checker the sunlight that plays on my table, and the dan
delions, of the most dazzling brightness and in unprecedented mul
titude, shiue in the grass of the churchyard, like stars of the first
magnitude in a dark night, when all the host of heaven are out. I
am unequal to describe the scene, especially in my present haste.
Methinks the author of Chapters on Churchyards could make a
very pretty picture, of inferior materials than these, and in her pecu
liar and inimitable way. Since the spring opened, we should have
been glad to have pursued our botanical excursions a little more
thoroughly ; but higher duties to the human species made it impos
sible to attend to the vegetable. As it is, however, I have collected
some ofthe more common plants of the season; and am satisfied,
from the few experiments I have made, that much greater perfection
is to be obtained in the art of pressing than is exhibited in most
herbariums." To Miss Harris, after saying how difficult it is to reconcile them
selves to the idea of parting with Helen, he writes, " We received
a most expressive package yesterday by Harnden's express, the

292 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
contents of which were enough to make any lady lightheaded. I
fear its effect upon a poor parson's wife will be, to make her too
proud, both of the gift and of having such friends as the givers.
Those who see them cannot blame us for having left so much
of cur affections behind us, or that we are wrapping up ourselves,
and all that belong to us, in such fine spun Boston notions.
Helen will take with her a copy of Mrs. Southey's Chapters on
Churchyards, which I commend to your reading. She is, judging
from internal evidence, the author of those ' Scenes in our Parish '
which was always an especial favorite of mine, and I think calculated
to take captive any heart that has been smitten with a passion for
the sacred picturesque, or whose sympathies and tastes are alive to
whatever is lovely and of good report. I send you also a copy of
Coxe's Athanasion. The author is a youth of extraordinary talent,
and his poetry conceived in a true catholic spirit. I do not know
that it will make any converts to the true Church, but it will appeal
strongly to the affinities of those who have attained by grace to a
knowledge of the same more excellent way. Winslow's Remains
give evidence of a spirit of the same temper ; and you will be glad
to know that his memoir, and a selection of his writings, are to be
published in the series of Oxford reprints."
In a short letter to Miss Lucy A. Clark and sisters, he writes,
" I need not say, dear friends, how much we regret to part with
Helen just now, chiefly on our own account, but somewhat also on
hers. We flatter ourselves that her health and spirits have of late
been fast reviving under the irresistible influences of- rural quiet,
congenial society, and the vernal visitation of all that combine to
make the country attractive and delightful. We feel, however,
that we ought not to repine at the decision, or wonder at your
unwillingness to spare her longer. Rather let us be grateful that
you have allowed us to detain her beyond her original intention ; and
rejoice to indulge the hope, that it will not be long before we shall
meet again."
On the 30th of May, instead of writing to his father, he addressed
a letter to his cousin Elizabeth Sherman. This letter is full of
reminiscences of his boyish days, vvhich show the peculiar state of
his feelings at the time ; but only a portion of them can be trans
ferred to these pages. " I ought to apprise you, dear cousin, that I
have just been diluting my ink with a little sharp vinegar, and cannot
promise any thing very agreeable from a pen so dipped in acid. I
flatter myself, however, that you would prefer to have it even so
than not at all. ... Do you know that a longer period has
elapsed since we have met together than ever before since I left
home ? We cannot go to you, but you can come to us ; and the
way is as easy as a walk down Chapel Street, and hardly costs more,
indeed, than a morning's shopping." He here alludes, as in his

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 293
foregoing letter to his friend Cocthouy, to the beautiful appearance
of the churchyard, and proceeds : " We are all ready, here, you may
be sure, as ever, to make much of you. The people I know you
would greatly like, and the feelings would be reciprocal. And what
more, as the apostle writes, need I say to move you? Lo ! the win
ter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers appear on the
earth ; the time of the singing birds is come, and the voice of the
turtle is heard in our land ; the fig tree putteth forth her green figs,
and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell." Speaking,
with some emotion, of his domestic cares and solicitude, he says,
"There is a boding sound in my ear, even as I write. A pair of
robins have made our mornings lively all this spring with their
cheerful notes. A few days since the female was missing, (our cat
probably best knows how,) and it has been perfectly distressing to
hear the perpetual lament ofthe survivor. These lines tell the rest.
They have never before been committed to paper, and should not
be seen by other eyes at present : —

All day, from yonder churchyard tree,
The redbreast, mourning for his mate,
Has poured that thrilling elegy,
Heart broken and disconsolate.
Her favorite bough he never leaves ;
He never ceases to complain ;
But grieves, as if, like man, he grieves
The more because he grieves in vain.
Poor bird ! a troubled thought they wake, —
Those notes of unaffected sorrow, —
The thought how this sad heart may ache
With that same bitter pang to-morrow.
I dare not think what clouds of gloom
Upon our sunny hopes may fall,
And in one hour of bliss may doom
Dear mate, and nest, and nestlings all ! "

He concludes this interesting letter with a message to his father:
"Tell him to set about his autobiography while it is yet in his power.
We see every day how facts are misapprehended, even by those who
would fain tell the truth of their contemporaries. Indeed, these mis
takes convince me that there is little confidence to be placed in thc
history of past times, unless the actors have also been the narrators,
and not always then. He need not publish, but leave it among his
posthumous papers."

294 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
Happily, the boding strains in the preceding letter were soon
changed to those of joy and gratulation. On the 4th of June he
writes, " I hasten to apprise you, dear parents and friends, that a little
daughter was born unto us this morning, and that both the mother
and the child are doing remarkably well." He expresses great
thankfulness to God for this distinguished mercy; and after hailing,
as an auspicious omen on the occasion, the appearance of a rainbow
in the west, he proceeds : " I need not say that this is a very bright
day for us, and that there is great joy in the household, not to say
parish, which will be cordially reciprocated, I am sure, by the many
dear hearts to whom these tidings will come. Our hearts' desire is
fulfilled in the gift of a daughter rather than a son ; and in this
feeling I am sure, at least, of mother's sympathies. May they both
be spared long enough to fill the void long since left in her heart
by those who are not lost, but gone before."
This welcome event was made the subject of many pleasant and
interesting communications to his friends, in some of which he
minutely describes, in a playful spirit, not only the features and the
lineaments of the new-born child, but also the disposition and traits
of character vvhich were thought to develop themselves, as belonging
to her by hereditary right. His next object was to see to the early
baptism of the child. " I shall feel," he says, " that consistency with
the rubrics and my ordination vow, so to frame and fashion my own
life and that of my family as to make them wholesome examples to
the flock of Christ, will constrain me not to defer the baptism."
The feast of St. John the Baptist was first appointed for the pur
pose ; but as that day proved unpropitious, on account of the weather,
"we wait," he remarks, "in submission, for the first fair holy day or
Sunday ; hoping, however, that it may be as soon as that of our
patron saint, on the 29th, not without fervent aspirations
" That she, marked with salvation's sign,
May enter on the life divine
In Christ's appointed way,
At vespers, in St. Peter's shrine,
Upon St. Peter's day.
"Excuse me for dilating on this matter as if it were of as much
moment as the ceremonies of the baptism of his highness the prince ;
for is it not in fact of much more moment to me ? and am 1 not
speaking ' to kind, attentive cars ' 1 We fee) that we can ask noth
ing more for tbe child than that she may grow in grace as fast as
she grows in favor with fond parental partiality, —
Making such visions to the sight
As fill a father's eyes with light,

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 295
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness."
Being again disappointed, however, on this day and the succeeding
Sunday, the anticipated rite was deferred until the second Sunday
in July, when it was duly performed by the Rev. Amos G. Baldwin,
and she received a name which had ever been a favorite in the
maternal side of the family. " She will be called Mary," he says,
" after the ' blessed among women,' as well as her own grandmother
and aunt, of precious memory."
Among the pleasurable incidents of this month was the visit of
the young mother's sister. " Delia's arrival," he says, " affords us
as much genuine delight as it seems to afford her. . . . We
come nearest to being perfectly happy when we have our Boston
friends to commune with of the past and future, and to go again to
the house of God in company."
In looking over his correspondence for July, passages like the
following are found in letters to his friends the Rev. Dr. Strong
and J. P. Codthouy, Esq. For the sentiments thus expressed, no
apology can be necessary. He wrote as he felt, and few persons
can be found at this day to call in question the correctness of his
representations. " All things have gone well with me, thus far, in
domestic and parochial affairs. Still, I cannot say that our hearts
are here as much, perhaps, as they ought to be ; and we live more
at the east than the west. Indeed, under any circumstances, there
is hardly room for the same attachments. Like most of the western
villages, Auburn is made up of heterogeneous residents, who have
been brought here by accident, and whom any accident may again
scatter. The majority of the population have probably been here
less than five years, and have not yet found their stopping-place. Of
course, there are not the same common interests as in those older
settlements, whose inhabitants have sprung from a common stock, and
feel as much identified with their birthplace as with their families.
But I have said enough to show you which way the current sets ;
and out of the heart's abundance the mouth speaketh."
In a similar spirit he writes to his mother, and then adds, " It is
observed by Southey, that, live as long as you may, the first twenty
years are the longest half of a man's life. And I know, by expe
rience, that there are no friends like those of that delightful period.
lt teaches us to cherish our homebred delights, and seems to inti
mate a renewal of our most endearing relations, when founded on
virtuous affections, beyond the grave. May we learn the lesson.
With these impressions, let me most lovingly salute all the surviving
friends of my youth who are yet about you."

296 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
The following extract from a letter to the late Mrs. Dr. Sumner,
of Hartford, is also deeply imbued with the same spirit : " Doubt
not, dear friend, my heart leaps up at the summons to join the circle
of old, familiar faces at commencement ; and I feel like a captive
Israelite at the thought of celebrating the feast of remembrance with
his loved ones, in his own far-off land. More than I can tell, do I
long to see dear Mrs. Brinley's face once more in the flesh, and to
take lessons in patient waiting for Christ. But it does not yet please
the Lord to turn our captivity as the rivers of the south. When he
does, be sure we will sing the one hundred twenty-sixth Psalm in
brother Burgess's beautiful version, which, according to my ideas,
is peculiarly happy. . . . We indulge the hope of being per
mitted to follow our hearts eastward in all the autumn, and, before
the horizon shuts down on any narrower circle of endeared friends,
' To share again the cup of grace
Before they part to Christ's embrace,
We to the lonesome world again.' "
Extracts from the correspondence of the month of August will be
somewhat limited. In his family letters he does not fail to keep his
parents duly apprised of every thing relating to the well being of
the young child and her mother, which, as he could not doubt, would
be most interesting to them. He also speaks of his intended visit :
" We certainly do purpose a visit to the east next month. My wife
will not probably regain her strength till she and the sea are brought
together." And to a brief sketch of the proceedings of the diocesan
convention at Syracuse, from which he had just returned, (on the
19th,) he adds this item of personal news : "I have gained a great
loss in being elected a member of the standing committee, a yoke
to which I did not care to be again subjected, after being once
released from it in Boston. Whatever the honor might be, it came,
at any rate, unsought ; and my vicinity to Geneva seemed to make
it desirable, at least, to the other members."
In a pleasant letter of August 26 to his friend Couthouy, con
gratulating him on the birth of a son, he says, " I care much less
that he should be a ' pier of the realm ' than a pillar of Christ Church
in those golden days of her prosperity which yet await every true
branch of the Holy Catholic Church throughout the world. He
shall not want my prayers that he may be a burning and shining
light in the ancient candlestick, and that many may rejoice in his
light." The last letter of the month, addressed to his "dear young
friend " Miss H  , is transferred almost entire to these pages,
omitting only such passages as relate to local matters or to subjects
already noted in other letters. " Our friends come like shadows —

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 297
so depart. It seems like a dream that I have been to the conven
tion at Syracuse." Among other dreams, he says, " I am sure I
saw the likeness of a form, which, once seen, can never be forgotten —
that of the Rev. Mr.  , who desired me to help him find a par
ish. ... I told the bishop he would answer for some parish
of moderate expectations. « My dear friend,' says the right rev
erend, ' will you tell me where there is such a parish 7 They call
upon me from all quarters to send tbem first-rate men, and they will
pay him perhaps three hundred dollars ! ' Mr.  thinks he may,
without vanity, estimate himself at a higher value than this, and will
not probably get any place in this diocese. . . . Since my
return from convention, there has been a constant stream of transient
company at the minister's tavern ; and the entertainment has given
such good satisfaction, that we have the promise of almost as much
patronage as the American Hotel. . . . This week we have
some of our household friends from New Haven and Hudson to
make us glad ; and last, but not least, young John Henry Hobart,
on his way to Wisconsin, has been spending the night and the day
amid the scenes of his father's last hours, and where his saintly
spirit seems ever, in my mind's eye, to brood. He is such a son as
such a father might regard with heavenly complacency, as he bends
from the seats of the blessed in paradise. . . . Next week, if
we are permitted to carry the thoughts of our hearts into effect, we
shall probably be with you in Boston. We must be three days on
the road, and I confess the journey seems formidable. I confess,
also, that it seems the more so as I look beyond the meeting to the
parting, and the loneliness of the return. . . . We have sad
news from Hartford of Mrs. Brinley's health. She is very desirous
to see me once more before she dies, and I am no less anxious to
be there. I hope we shall not be too late. She is one of those
who have come out of great tribulation, and is ripe for heaven."
To this is added his own introduction to the beautiful lines which
he enclosed in the same letter : " I purpose to make a collection of
original and selected poetry for the children of Christ Church Sun
day school, in whicli I shall weave some topics of local interest
into simple ballad rhymes ; and, without being pretending, I hope
it may be useful to them and others. I send you one of the
many contemplations, in which I often indulge, on some aspect of
the same sacred theme, and which I intend to cast into some poet
ical mould, if not for others' solace, at least for my own. With the
understanding that it is to be kept out of the prints, I have no
objection to its being copied by any of our friends who would think
it worth the while." 38

298 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.

CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON.

" I know thy works, and where thou dwellest, even where Satan's seat if;
aDd thou holdest fast thy name, and hast not denied my faith."

Not for thy pomp and pride of place,
Not for thy relics rare
Of kings, and ministers of grace
Whose names thy vessels bear;
Not for thy boast of high degree,
Nor charms of gorgeous style,
Hast thou been ever dear to me,
O thou time-honored pile !
But for thy constant truth, which still
Preserves, from age to age,
Unmoved, through good report and ill,
The Father's heritage ;
Which firmly as the hills remains,
As years have o'er thee swept,
And singly, 'mid apostate fanes,
The ancient faith has kept.
For sixscore years thy lofty vault
With those ascriptions ring,
Which lift the soul, while they exalt
The Christ, of Glory King.
And well might walls, so taught, cry out,
If human lips were dumb,
And aisles spontaneous swell the shout
Until the Bridegroom come.*
For this, how oft my spirit longs
To tread thy courts ! How stirs
My inmost heart to join thy throngs
Of earnest worshippers !
For this, how oft, on bended knee,
I ask, dear Church, to see
No drought on other's husbandry,
But much of dew on thee !

* As Christ Church is one of the few houses of worship in Boston which
has survived the vicissitudes of a century, so it should be a matter of grateful
commemoration that it is the only one of that lew that has held fast the pro
fession of its faith without wavering.

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 299
Though many have afflicted thee,
And all thy ways despise,
And turn, with gayer company,
To where new shrines arise ;
Here let thy children keep their feet,
And do not. yet despair
That they who scorn thee yet may meet
Before thy shrine in prayer.
Though cheerless to the eye of sense,
A land 'that none pass through,
Eternal is thine excellence
Which shall be brought to view.
And on thy gates the stranger's son
Shall, in God's time, record,
" The Zion of the Holy One,
The City of the Lord ! " *

The journey to the east, which he was so fondly anticipating, was
commenced, after some unforeseen causes of delay, on the 7th of
September. It was performed by easy stages, for the accommoda
tion of the young mother and child, and it was not until the 10th
that they arrived in Boston. Having taken the route by the way
of Pittsfield, he found time, while detained at the Berkshire House,
to write a short letter to his cousin Elizabeth, giving such a sketch
of the journey, and the good condition of at least one important
personage among the travellers, as he knew would he very welcome
at home. " We are all in excellent health. The baby proves, as
we hoped, an excellent traveller, and sleeps most of the way. We
were prevented, yesterday, from getting on any farther than this
by the storm. It was well that we did not. The house is very
comfortable, and we have the prospect of a glorious day to com
plete the rest of our journey." He next writes to his mother from
Cambridge, September 12 : " It was a bright and glorious morning
when we left Pittsfield on Saturday, and the whole route, from the
western border of the state to Springfield, exceeds in wild and pic
turesque beauty and mountain scenery any thing which I have yet
met with on our travels. What is of more moment, our young
charge was perfectly quiet and well behaved, sleeping away the
roughness of the hours. We arrived at the old scene of our labors
at half past seven, and were soon surrounded by welcoming guests.

* "Whereas thou hast been forsaken and hated, so that no man went
through thee, I will make thee an eternal excellency, a joy of many genera
tions." — Is. be. 15.

300 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
I had sundry invitations from the highest quarters to fill at least
half a dozen pulpits, but had the fortitude to refuse them all, being
determined to have the enjoyment of a hearer after the fatigues of
the journey. I accordingly visited Trinity, Grace, and St. John's
Church, Charlestown, and received most cordial salutations from
clergy and laity. I had almost forgotten to say that I baptized, in
addition, the child of our friend Couthouy, by the name of Wil
liam Croswell. ... It will not be many days, I trust, be
fore we shall have the happiness of presenting ourselves before you,
to receive your motherly benediction for ourselves and ours. It will
be necessary that my wife should rest a while, to recover her health
and strength, which, I am happy to say, has been much improved
by the change of air and scene. . . . To-day we rode out to
this favorite resort of other days, to pass a few hours with our kind
and excellent friend Mrs. Carpenter ; and I avail myself of the
short interval before dinner to scribble a few lines. I expect to
spend several days here with wife and Mary, before we take up
our line of march for Connecticut."
Writing to his father on the 21st, he speaks in the most grateful
terms of the manner in which they had been received, both public
ly and privately, in Boston. He had been induced, on the previous
Sunday, to preach all day in his old church, and was welcomed by
overflowing congregations. While on this visit, he was solicited by
his friends to sit for his picture ; but as his time was short, there
was only one way in which he could gratify them. He says, "I
spent an hour or two yesterday in .having my head taken off by
the daguerre operation. The light, however, was not very good,
and the experiment not altogether successful. I am to try again on
Monday, if the weather favors ; and if it be possible to make a
favorable impression in this way, I intend to give you the benefit
of it. If they do not give the best impression, as Dr. Boyle says,
they do at least transfer the features with the most frightful fidelity."
After several attempts, the artist finally succeeded in an admira
ble and lifelike representation of his features, mild, quiet and
placid as they then were, undisturbed by the convulsive muscular
motion which, in after years, so grievously affected him. Several
copies of this picture were subsequently taken, and have ever been
held in high estimation by his friends.
From a letter to his father, of the 28th, the following account is
transcribed of an event on which but a single remark will be offered :
of the sincerity of the ejaculation cited at the close, no doubt can be
entertained ; and it serves to show how deeply his heart was imbued
with the charity that hopeth all things. " Yesterday was a day of
great serenity in the elements of this visible world, and not less so
in the councils of that portion of Christ's visible Church convened in
Trinity Church, Boston. A larger representation of the clergy and

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 301
laity of the diocese of Massachusetts was assembled than on any
former occasion. After the usual solemnities at the opening of the
convention, and the administration ofthe holy communion, the ven
erable bishop introduced the momentous subject whicli had brought
them together in a most affectionate and touching address. The
Rev. Dr. Strong, of Greenfield, the senior presbyter of the diocese,
thereupon followed in a strain of impressive remark, and moved a
resolution that the convention do now proceed to the election of an
assistant bishop, who shall also succeed the present diocesan, in case
he survive him. This passed unanimously and without debate.
After solemn and secret prayer for the guidance of the Holy Spirit
in this important business, ' for the which prayers silence was kept
for a space,' the clergy withdrew to ' cast forth their lots.' The
whole number was thirty-nine, all of which were for the Rev. Man-
ton Eastburn, D. D. The laity then withdrew, and concurred in
said nomination without a dissenting voice. Whereupon the Rev.
Dr. Eastburn was announced as elected by the unanimous voice
of the convention. The testimonials were prepared and signed
forthwith, and after another pause for silent gratitude to that Blessed
Spirit who ' maketh men to be of one mind in a house,' the conven
tion united in the rehearsal of that ancient hymn of praise, Te Deum
laudamus. They then adjourned after a short session of two hours,
presenting a scene from first to last of the most delightful and un
broken harmony, and nothing doubting that the best thing possible
had been done for the Church, and in the best possible spirit. So
mote it be!"
Having obtained a further extension of his leave of absence, he
remained in Boston until the 6th of October, including another Sun
day, and affording him an opportunity to gratify his friends, by
officiating again in the church of his early affections. On this occa
sion he preached twice, administered the holy communion, attended
the Sunday school, and baptized six children, one among the num
ber by the name of " William Croswell." This delay, agreeable
as it was to him and his friends, was nevertheless the cause of a
grievous disappointment, inasmuch as intelligence of the death of
Mrs. Brinley reached him in the very midst of his preparations for
leaving Boston, and at the moment when he was indulging the hope,
which he had so often expressed, of seeing her once more before her
departure to her heavenly rest. After spending a night at Hartford
with their afflicted friends, they proceeded to New Haven. Here
they passed a pleasant week ; and then, returning by the way of
Hartford and Springfield, they pursued their way to their western
home, and arrived at Auburn on Saturday, the 1 5th. "We found
ourselves," he says, in his first letter, " much looked and longed for."
And after giving a hasty sketch of the journey, he adds, that he had
two services on Sunday, and reports himself and family as all well.

302 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
And again, in a subsequent letter, filled chiefly with details of his
domestic affairs, he says, " We are all uncommonly well ; and the
child, so far from taking any harm from her journey, seems to be
exceedingly profited by it."
Thus with recruited health and strength he is found quietly set
tled down in his winter quarters among his kind and attentive
parishioners; and this again enables him to resume his correspond
ence, and to revive his poetical propensities. He writes to his father
on his thirty-eighth birthday, November 7, "These anniversaries
have of late flitted by so fast, that it seems as if they had come at
least twice a year. ' Verily, our days are as a span long.' I note
its passage chiefly, I trust, to profit by it." Speaking here of a
new Manual of Family Prayer, which his father was then preparing
for the press, he expresses sentiments which will scarcely be called
in question : "You will, of course, not omit a birthday prayer in
your collection. I am glad that it is to be furnished at so low a
price as not to prevent its being a sort of universal manual. It is a
happy evidence of the increase of the spirit of prayer amongst us,
that such books are more and more in demand. It will, I trust,
supply the voHd which we all feel to exist. M»st pious families, out
of the Church or in it, begin to prefer, I believe, a simple spiritual
form to extemporaneous diffusive exercises, especially when so many,
even of circumcised lips, are rather those of Moses than Aaron. I
need not say, at any rate, how glad we shall be to use it, and to
know in the hours of our separation that we are calling upon God
with one mind, and with one mouth also. These are associations
which the Church makes peculiar provision for cherishing iu all her
public services ; and it is good to carry them deeply into our pri
vate devotional exercises and our household communion."
The following incidental remark is thrown out in a letter of No
vember 14, among many personal allusions : " My head is full of
' unwritten ' essays in prose and poetry, on sundry subjects, some
of which I hope will be ready for use in the course of the winter."
In a letter of the same date, to his friend Miss H  , he speaks
still more explicitly on this subject. " My heart, to tell the whole
truth, has been set upon sending you some rhymes of the series
which I have so long contemplated ; but the beau ideal recedes like
the rainbow as you attempt to approach it, and the consequence is
that you have had neither rhyme nor reason." Before dismissing
this topic, he says, " Let me not forget to say, that if the editor of
the Witness wishes the lines on Christ Church, they may have my
imprimatur ; and if satisfactory, they will, I trust, be earnests of better
things to come. With regard to the motto, I approve of the sug
gestion to strike out the clause alluded to. It grates harshly upon
the ear, and perhaps inspiration alone ha,s a right to make just such
an application. It certainly would be misapprehended and resented

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 303
in Boston, however true it might be regarded of ancient Per
gamos." There is something exquisitely touching in the following passage,
which is transcribed from the same letter. The child whose death
is here alluded to was baptized " William Croswell " by his
own hand, while he was last in Boston. "Poor Mrs. Golbert ! as
I rejoiced with her when I signed my name upon that little ' blossom
of being,' how my heart trembles to think of the grief with which
parents feel the loss of a child. And ' yet it is one,' to use the
words of my favorite country parson's daughter, 'which ought to
yield most readily to the comforts of religion. Though the baby be
as fair as ever sun shone upon, it is none too fair for the place he
has gone to. When I see how very much evil there is in the world,
how much " sin to blight," how much " sorrow to fade," can I grieve
that so many frail buds are transplanted by the Lord of the garden
to a fairer climate ? O, no ! Jesus said, Suffer little children to
come unto me ; and I do believe he said it, not only in reference to
the group of young Israelites then gathered around him, nor merely
as an encouragement to Christian parents to trust their living treas
ures to his care, but that his omniscient eye looked round at that
moment on the innumerable multitude of these little ones, whom his
free grace has, in all ages, called to glory.' I know no more beau
tiful passage on the subject out of the Scriptures. Tell our afflicted
friends how much I think of them in their bereavement, and that I
have written out this passage for their consolation. As I turn from
those thus mourning for their little one to the cradle at my side,
how much cause have we to rejoice with trembling, that, while one
is taken, another is left ! Graciously preserved through all the perils
of a journey of eight hundred miles, she reposes in health and safety
in the house where she was born."
But few incidents remain to fill up the record ofthe present year.
Besides the ordinary and current duties of the parish, — including
sermons on Sunday, morning and evening, and Sunday school
instructions every afternoon, — his preparations for the due obser
vance of the Thanksgiving and Christmas solemnities added much
weight to his cares ; and the year closed as it had begun and con
tinued, with frequent, not to say daily, returns of the headache.
He would most cheerfully have accepted a very pressing invitation
to attend the consecration of Bishop Eastburn, in Trinity Church,
Boston, on the 29th of December, had it been consistent with his
sense of duty to his people ; and coming, as the invitation did, not
only from many of his excellent friends in Boston, but also from
his bishop, the refusal cost him the exercise of much self-denial.
In the mean time, however, he seems to have sought a solace in
composing the beautiful pastoral which is subjoined. These stan
zas were sent to the Albany Argus and to the New York Church-

304 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1842.
man for publication, and from those papers they were transferred
to the Christian Witness and Church Chronicle, and perhaps to
some other periodicals. They were also sent to a friend in Boston,
and to his father, accompanied by this remark : " I send the above,
not as a substitute for a letter, but to show you what I have been
about, and as an earnest that the sluices are in some sort opened
of the old poetic feeling, and that I trust it will flow out to better
purpose than of late years."

A CHRISTMAS EVENING PASTORAL.

- re shall hare a song aa in the night when a holy solemnity is kept" Isaiah.

My own dear Church, how can I choose
But turn, in spirit, back to thee,
As on this hallowed night I lose
Myself in pensive revery ?
For in thy courts a single day,
'Tis good, if, but in thought, to dwell ;
Nor may I tear my heart away
From all that it has loved so well.
How sweet to hear at eventide
The pealing of thy silver chime,
In tuneful changes far and wide,
Give note of coming Christmas time .'
How richly through the wintry sky
It floats ! as if the heavenly train
Sang " Glory be to God on high,
And peace to peaceful men," again.
While thus the vocal heavens invite,
And bells ring out in angel tone,
To Bethlehem let us haste to-night,
And see the wonders there made known.
Thy radiant courts are all a-blaze,
And brilliant is the festive scene,
As when rose on the prophet's gaze
Fair Canaan, dressed in living green.
The wreaths in loftiest arches tied,
The boughs in each deep window spread,
The festoons swung from side to side,
The columns twined and garlanded •

1842.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 305
The leafy cross which venturous arm
Has dared to hang the chancel o'er,
Give all the shady lodge a charm
That never met the eye before.
Thus, verdant as a sylvan tent,
Thine old age puts its greenness on;
Thy bowery aisles all redolent
With goodliest smell of Lebanon.
How fresh the branches stand, and thick!
With what a dazzling light, and clear,
Like Aaron's golden candlestick,
Gleams out each ancient chandelier !
And he who looks above the crowd
May almost see, in vision, swim
Beneath the cornice, veiled in cloud,
The mystic shapes of cherubim ;
Now, listening to the grateful strain,
Each in his angle seems to rest,
With twain unfolded wings, and twain
Spread crosswise on his raptured breast.
And now a joyous echo rings,
As if the whole angelic row,
That o'er the rood loft poise their wings,
Their loud, uplifted trumpets blow ;
And quivering now through wavy trees,
And throbbing breasts, with thrilling sound
Of solemn pastoral symphonies,
A glory truly shines around.
It shines on robes without alloy,
On priestly vestment, pure and white,
And on the shepherd's head whose joy
It is to watch his flock by night.
It brightest shines where hearts once cold
Are kindling with the truths revealed,
And, like the faithful swains of old,
Beneath their gladdening influence yield.
Thrice blest who thus the night prolong,
Who soar on each inspiring tune,
And emulate the " shining throng "
That pass away to heaven too soon !
Thrice blest, who, as the years roll by,
More fondly treasure up the word,
39

306 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
And God their Savior glorify
For all that they have seen and heard !
Though many a friend is dead and gone,
Though many a sainted face we miss,
Long may thy tuneful peal ring on,
That calls, dear Church, to feasts like this !
For whence could joy and comfort flow
To aching hearts that bleed for them,
But for His grace, whose reign below
Began this night in Bethlehem ?

To this last verse was appended, as a note, " This was one ofthe
dying sentiments of a late young servant of Christ, eminent alike for
his early endowments of grace and genius, whose ' sainted face we
miss ' among the baptized children of Christ Church, Boston. ' O,
say not so,' said he, in his last days, to a sorrowing friend who spoke
of having a gloomy Christmas on account of his decease, ' O, say not
so, but think what we should all be but for the birth which Christmas
day commemorates ! ' See Bishop Doane's memoir of the late
Rev. B. D. Winslow."
To this note it is not inappropriate to add the following short
extract from one of his last letters of the year : " I had a kind let
ter from Bisliop Doane yesterday. He tells me that Winslow's
Remains have been printed at Oxford, and that he has a copy for
me. You may be sure that I shall value it highly. I have many
delightful reminiscences of that departed saint, which, if my life is
spared, shall in some way be given to the world." Alas ! that his
life ended too soon — that the work was never done !

1843.

In one of the earliest letters of this year he expresses his senti
ments on two popular topics, which are so rational and temperate
that they must commend themselves to the respect even of those
who may differ with him in opinion. Speaking of certain voluntary
associations of which young men become the most ardent and liberal
supporters, he says, "They are not without their dangers, at least
to young men whose principles are not fixed, not only in tlie expense
of time and money which they involve, but in the facility which they
afford for forming other associations of a different character, and in

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 307
drawing off the interest from domestic, not to say religious duties.
A tithe of the effort, time, and money vvhich are required to give
temporary activity and vitality to objects that perish in the using,
would, with God's blessing, go much further in promoting the designs
of that society, of vvhich Christ is the almighty Head and Founder,
with vvhich we are all bound to be identified, as we value our soul's
welfare, in time as well as eternity, and which is destined to survive
' the wreck of matter and the crush of worlds.' But I must not
forget that I am not writing a sermon, though I feel that I ought to
be." Again, with reference to a practice which was then becoming
very prevalent, — that of raising money for charitable purposes by
means of fairs, — he says, "The ladies of the First Presbyterian
Church got up a fair in aid of a destitute church at the west, at
which, report says, dancing was among the entertainments of a ques
tionable character. Subsequently a sort of rival enterprise was got
up for the relief of the poor of the village, which comes off to-night.
Attempts have been made to get the patronage of the clergy in
behalf of the object, and, with the exception of my own, have, I be
lieve, been generally successful. I consented to read the notice last
Sunday, but coupled it with a protest against this mode of raising
money for any charitable object. Consistency requires me to main
tain this ground, which has not been suddenly taken. I have for
years entertained the most conscientious convictions of the inconsist
ency of these schemes of extortion with all Christian principle,
and have further noticed some of their mischievous effects upon
those who have most actively engaged in them. I shall probably
subject myself to some censure on this account, in some quarters ;
but it matters little. The time will come when I shall stand justified
before men, as I trust I do before God, in this matter."
On the recurrence of St. Paul's day, the fourteenth anniversary
of his ordination, he throws off in a letter to his father the following
characteristic passage : " Alas for me if I forget the memory of this
day fourteen years since ! How vividly its transactions still recur
in the private watches of the night ! How profitably should they
mingle with the thoughts of this consecrated day ! I shall try to
embody the reminiscences they awaken in some fitting shape. Mean
while their record is on high."
On Sunday, the 19th of February, he received verbal intelligence
of the sudden demise of the Right Rev. Bishop Griswold ; and he
thus speaks of the event in a subsequent letter to his father : " Un
expected as was the intelligence of the death of our right reverend
father and friend, the presiding bishop, we were much struck
by the fact that it should have first been communicated to Bishop
De Lancey by Governor Seward, under this roof, where the mem
ories of Bishop Hobabt's fragrant name fill the house as with
the odors of precious ointment, and amid the scenes where our

308 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
diocesan received his episcopacy at the hands of Bishop Griswold.
We had no particulars till the papers of the next day arrived; and
yesterday an invaluable correspondent anticipated every inquiry
which we could possibly have made, in a full account of the death
and funeral. ... I mourn the loss of Bishop Griswold most
sincerely. Not only in our official relations, but personally, he was
always paternal and tender ; and I shall ever dwell with a sad pleas
ure upon those hours of earthly intercourse never to be renewed,
but to be superseded, if I am but as well prepared as he was for
death, by something better in heaven."
This train of reflection was further continued in a letter to the
correspondent above alluded to, Miss H  , under date of Ash
Wednesday, March 1. "Your letter touching the last things of
the dear old bishop was too good, as I thought, for me alone; and
I made some extracts for the Gospel Messenger. . . . If I
were to begin to tell of the emotions which that event has awakened
within me, I should hardly know where to stop. It is most grateful
and soothing to notice the universal expression of veneration and
respect which the announcement of his death has called forth in all
quarters, far and near. Truly, great is the lamentation that has
been made over him ; and I sorrow with multitudes at the thought
that I shall see his saintly face in the flesh no more. May we all
so truly profit by the dispensation, that we may see his face again
in glory, and may it be our renewed desire and prayer, that we may
stir up the gift that is in us, by the laying on of his hands."
The following verses were enclosed in a letter to the same corre
spondent ; not, he says, for publication, and they have probably
never appeared in print. He styles them poor verses ; but of this the
reader must judge.

"HOUSES OF WORSHIP."
Pray tell me, is yon classic dome,
Hemmed in on either flank,
Designed for God's, or Mammon's home •
A temple, or a bank ?
And tell me why, to human eyes,
No outward signs declare
If it be house of merchandise,
Or holy house of prayer.

The Hindoo pagod's towers are gay
With flaunting banners set ;
And crescents in the sunbeams play
On mosque and minaret :

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 309
As by the synagogue I went,
Some months ago, I saw
Conspicuous in the pediment
The tables of the law.
But who shall say of this unique
With what it has to do,
Or Catholic, or Heretic,
Or Pagan, Turk, or Jew ?
Or that new pantheistic sect
Whose creeds with all accord,
And worship, with a like respect,
" Jehovah, Jove, or Lord " ?
O, why should Christian men thus fear
To lift on every shrine
The symbol to their souls most dear,
Faith's sure and steadfast sign ;
That swerves not when the vanes are whirled,
The sport of every breeze,
As fitful as this fickle world,
Or fancy's vagaries ?
But look on all the neighboring spires,
And see it written plain,
The shape which most the town admires
Is, like its name, but vain.
The Cross is still a stumbling block,
And noisy Gushfords vaunt
That nothing but your weathercock
Is purely Protestant.
There were some reason on their side,
If these same cocks could crow
As often as is Christ denied
By those who meet below ;
Or could they warn the wavering,
By passion tossed and doubt,
Of their unrest whom every wind
Of doctrine veers about.

At this time some plain indications were apparent that another
change in his pastoral relations was seriously contemplated, if not
desired. This did not arise from any disaffection between his peo
ple and himself. In the month of February, in reply to a sugges-

310 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
tion that his services might again be required in Boston, he says, "I
confess, as years roll by, I do not feel any less like a stranger and
a pilgrim here, and cannot but hope, in the course of Providence,
that we shall yet be brought nearer to each other. And yet we
should be the most ungrateful of beings to complain of the line
wherein our lot is cast, or be otherwise than content with the state
wherein we are." He had every domestic comfort, and the affairs
of the parish were in a promising state ; but he had much to dis
hearten him. He perceived an increasing tendency to indisposition.
His labors were frequently interrupted by violent attacks of head
ache, and, during the winter, he suffered from time to time from
complaints of the throat, which caused much anxiety on the part of
himself and his friends, as well as his physician. When, therefore, ad
vances began to be made from the former scene of his labors, it is
not strange that he should be inclined to listen. Accordingly we
find in several letters to his father and other correspondents, written
in April and during the Easter season, frequent allusions to a
possible change. Writing to Miss C  -, with reference to a sug
gestion on this subject, he says, "We feel more and more, every
day, like those who have no continuing city — pilgrims who dwell
in tents, liable to be called to strike them at any time, either for
another world, or for another part of this." But in a letter of April
11 to his father, the suggestion takes a more definite shape : " My
Boston correspondents write me that the city mission is now vacant,
and inquiring whether, in case it were offered me at a salary of
one thousand dollars, and with a pledge to erect a chapel within the
ensuing year, I would be disposed to entertain it. I have replied,
that our affairs here seemed to be at a crisis." He here mentions
certain contingencies, under which he should feel absolved from any
obligation to remain in Auburn. He adds, however, " It would be
painful indeed to contemplate the dissolution of my connection with
this parish ; and I have every reason to believe that the pain would
be mutual. But being regarded as one ofthe most desirable parishes
in the diocese, there would probably be little difficulty in supplying
it to their minds ; and though not perhaps given to change, they are
at least accustomed to it. With regard to the situation in question,
I have ever regarded it as one of the most enviable in the city, as
bringing him who is faithful to his duties nearest to him who was
anointed to preach the gospel to the poor, and who ever delighted
to call the poor his brethren. It is not a sphere whose occupations
are novel or untried by me, having made myself familiar during my
whole ministry with its homeliest details, and become intimate with
its least inviting aspects. Though I know not therefore what I
ought to ask, perhaps I know the necessity of being bathed in the
baptism of his Spirit, who came, not to be ministered unto, but to
minister ; and with all the world before him where to choose, laid

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 311
his course through the lowest vale of humiliation. May God give
us all grace to follow more closely his holy example. Unless I am
greatly deceived in myself, I could be more useful in that situation
than almost any other ; and should be willing, at any rate, to try
the experiment, in case it should be expedient for me to go away.
Whether I am to be favored with this offer, or whether the events
wliich may turn up here may induce me to regard more favorably
my position, a few days will now determine ; and in the mean while,
I shall be thankful for your godly and fatherly judgment upon mat
ters as they strike you." It is, perhaps, quite superfluous to say
that his father not only admired the spirit of this letter, but entirely
approved of his favoring the suggestions of his Boston corre
spondents. On Easter Monday, writing to Miss Callahan, and enclosing the
Elegiac Stanzas in memory of her nephew, the Rev. Benjamin D.
Winslow, already copied on page 234, he thus briefly alludes to the
labors of love and charity in which she had aided him during his
former residence in Boston, adding a remark fully expressive of the
feeling which reigned in his heart : " Rest assured that you are much
and often in my grateful thoughts, as I muse on the past, both in
connection with him, (Winslow,) and especially in connection with
that most blessed walk of pastoral duty which has carried us together
to minister in the consecrated abodes of Christian poverty and dis
tress. If it were God's will, with all the world before me where to
choose, I would ask to enlist in the same service again, and with
such helpers." Again, on the same day, in a letter to Miss Clark,
he says, " Brother  wrote me last Monday, to ask whether I
would come if they did call for me, and bidding me write by return
of mail, if it were but three words. I did so, and filled my sheet ;
and authorized him, if he wanted any thing further, to obtain a sight
of my epistle to you. I hope I have acted in the matter with a due
discretion, and not said too much, nor any thing inconsistent with the
trust and dependence on divine direction, which, in so momentous a
matter, should be our first principle. I have not allowed myself from
the outset to suppose that the question was yet at our disposal or
that of our friends ; knowing, by experience, that it is not in man that
walketh to direct his steps. Though I have endeavored to treat the
suggestion in the spirit of simple sincerity and good faith, I shall not,
I trust, give way to any feeling or any expression of disappointment,
however it may be finally settled." He adds, on hearing that Bishop
Eastburn had remarked to one of his parishioners who had recently
been in Boston that he was desirous of leaving Auburn, " I con
fess I do not like altogether the bishop's way of stating the matter ;
never caring to be classed with those of whom it was said, I have
not sent them, and yet they ran ; or being desirous of coming to
Boston, except upon the supposition that my friends desired me to
come."

312 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
Again, towards the close of the week, he writes somewhat more
at large, to his friend Couthouy and to his father, and in language
of a similar import. The latter is more strictly confined to the sub
ject. " Though it is Friday in the paschal week, the earth is still
very unclean. Nature is far from being advanced in the fairest
colors of the spring, to welcome the triumph of the great Head of
the Church over the grave : no vernal zephyrs, no green resur
rection, to harmonize with the services of the chief festival. The
year is a month, at least, in arrears, as compared with the last, when
the roads were settled in March, and I filled my vase with early wild
flowers before this time. The advancement, however, will probably
be more rapid in consequence, and there will be little difference in
the progress of vegetation at the opening of summer. . . . The
churchyard is at present quite a scene of unwonted activity, being
full of men and boys trimming the old locust trees and setting out
new ones. ... I have heard nothing further from our friends
at the east since I wrote last. I am glad that your views on the
subject correspond with my own. If it were God's will, on my wife's
account as well as my own, it would require no self-denial to follow
it most readily ; and there are very many who would join us in
adopting the spirit of the one hundred twenty-sixth Psalm : ' When
the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, then were we like them
that dream.' It is not unlikely to be but a pleasant dream, though,
after all. There is a great diversity of interests represented in the
board of managers, and I am not at all sanguine that they would all
unite in my nomination. I hope I am not unduly anxious about the
matter, nor indeed any thing else ; and would fain take no needless
thought for the morrow."
The doubts here suggested of the result of this movement
proved to be but too well founded. Still, while the matter was yet in
suspense, he continued to speak of it, in his letters to his friends, in
the same frank and familiar manner, as if no such doubts existed.
On the 2d of May he writes to his father, " Nothing further of any
moment from Boston. The delay makes me think that there is oppo
sition to my nomination. This might have been expected. It dimin
ishes the probability of a removal thither at present. I will not go
into a divided house, when I can remain here by unanimous con
sent and something more. I am anxious however to have the ques
tion decided, and at once, and before I write again I trust it will
be." And he writes also much in the same manner to Miss H  :
" I have not been sanguine with regard to the result of this move
ment ; and if I had been, the silence at the east 1 should have re
garded as ominous. I can easily conceive of a great diversity of
interests, directly and indirectly, being arrayed against me. . . .
My removal at this time would, I am inclined to think, be an entire
surprise to the people, nor do I see any indication in their present

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 313
deportment that my time has come. Let it only be as seemeth good
to God ; and let us not, in our impatience, hasten his work to our
hurt. In due subordination to him, I repose myself in this matter
with implicit confidence in the hands of my Boston friends."
But, aware as he was of the conflicting interests vvhich might
sway the several members of the board of managers of the city
mission, and uncertain as he considered the result, he was not pre
pared to -see precisely on what grounds his election might be opposed,
nor how far mere party feelings might be brought to bear against
him. But he was not kept long in suspense. The result was soon
made known to him, as well as the means by which it was effected ;
and it would not be consistent with the plan proposed in bringing
out this work, to suppress, from motives of false delicacy, any fa«;t
or circumstance which might be deemed essential to the exhibition
of his life or the illustration of his character. The circumstances
were faithfully detailed to him, and by him communicated to his
father in a letter of the 16th of May. " Tidings reached us, at last,
on Saturday evening. A meeting had been held the week previous,
and a committee appointed to nominate, a majority of whom, after
consultation with the clergy, nominated me. Before acting on the
nomination, the meeting was adjourned till last Thursday. On open
ing the subject, Dr. V. objected, (disclaiming at tbe same time any
personal objections,) simply on the ground that it would be ' the
rending of Christ Church.' Driven from that position, the real mo
tive was developed — the candidate was not an evangelical preacher,
could not touch the sinner's heart, &c, &c. This called forth a
handsome vindication from brother Watson, of Trinity Church ; but
there was much excitement and confusion, and the bishop was
obliged to call to order. The result, however, was, to defer the
choice for three months. This, of course, puts the question at rest
so far as I am concerned, and much to my relief; for as time has
passed since the subject was first opened to me, I should have been
sorry to be obliged to decide on its acceptance. With regard to Dr.
V.'s imputation, I should prefer to enjoy his good opinion with
regard to my fidelity as a preacher of the cross, especially because
I have no reason to believe that there is any real difference between
his views of vital and experimental religion and my own. At the
same time, I ought to be willing, however severe the trial, to suffer
a shame and reproach which evangelists (par eminence) have
been so free to cast on the reputation of men, both dead and living,
of far higher claims to completeness in Christ than even Dr. V.
himself. Even the piety of our late sainted father in God, Bishop
Griswold, did not go undoubted in certain quarters ; and one of
the editors of the Recorder, who was the first to garnish the sepul
chre of the venerable White, was accustomed to the inquiry from
one of his confederates, whether the old bishop was converted yet!
40

314 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
Bishop Griswold, I am sure, if living, would have given me a very
different character ; and so, I verily believe, would many others who
know me better. It is, after all, as St. Paul truly says, to be ac
counted a very little thing to be tried by man's judgment, seeing he
that judgeth us is the Lord. The project in question has brought
out many grateful testimonies from friends who are neither feeble
nor few. I think it probable that it will lead to some organization
among them with reference to me, in God's good time, and in a
way that will be perhaps more inviting in all its aspects." Yes,
in this half-prophetic suggestion he was not mistaken ; for in the
holy providence of God he was allowed the opportunity to " live
down," on the very spot where this wrong was done him, the un
generous imputation of his brother of St. Paul's ; and what is still
better, that brother, who had permitted himself thus to assail him,
was spared to bear testimony, with his own lips, to the injustice and
groundlessness of the imputation.
After the settlement of this matter, he confined his correspondence
more particularly to domestic and pastoral affairs ; and few notes
are found of general interest to record. He frequently speaks, in
language perfectly natural to a Christian parent, of the growth and
progress of his little daughter ; and on Whit-Monday, June 5, he
thus writes to his father of an important stage in her existence :
" In addition to its usual stirring associations, the great feast of Pen
tecost was the more interesting yesterday from its being the first
birthday in our child's eventful life ; and it did not pass without a
petition for spiritual mercies in her behalf, and grace to live the rest
of her life according to iits baptismal beginning." He adds, " With
regard to our daughter's proficiencies, it would not be worth while
for me to begin to write. I leave that topic to my wife, who gener
ally exhausts her paper-and-pen eloquence upon it, when writing to
her sister or some such willing listener."
In a subsequent letter, June 19, after speaking of his partial re
covery from a severe cold and hoarseness, which had unfitted him for
public duty, he adds, " I have engaged to officiate at Skeneateles
on the' glorious fourth, in brother Clark's church, in a kind of ser
vice, vvhich he has been obliged, as it were, to resort to, to keep
his juveniles from injurious associations. I have consented to do
so rather as a choice of evils, as the only alternative was to act as
chaplain at a sort of military parade here, and to which I have a
most decided and increasing repugnance."
His next letter was dated at Skeneateles, July 8, and though it re
lates, in part, to personal matters, almost every word of it may be
transcribed. " Here we are, wife, baby, nurse, and all, spending a
few days very delightfully at brother Patterson's villa, on the marge
of this enchanting lake. I came over alone at the beginning of the
week, to assist brother Clark at his Sunday school celebration on

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 315
the fourth. It seemed providential that it was so ordered ; for on
the night of the third a letter was received, informing him that his
brother-in-law, Rev. Mr. Lewis, the excellent rector of the church
in Mobile, was very low in New York ; and Mrs. Lewis, who, with
her children, were spending a few weeks here, set off on the morning
of the fourth. Mr. Clark accompanied them. It was well that I
was here to relieve him of all concern for the service. . . . To
give Mr. Clark more entire command of his time in his absence, it
seemed still more providential that I was able to insure him my as
sistance to-morrow — the painters and whitewashes having taken
possession of St. Peter's, and making it quite doubtful whether we
get admission for yet another Sunday after the next. Under these
circumstances, we concluded to avail ourselves of the opportunity to
make our long-promised visit to brother Patterson, whose com
plaints need the solace of congenial company ; and accordingly came
over, under his escort, on Thursday. The baby, whose teeth have
been troubling her considerably, seems much improved by the change
of air ; and that, together with the beautiful scenery, and, more than
all, the kind and gentle attentions of our endeared friends here, is
working much, I trust, for my wife's benefit. For myself, who am
wonderfully well, thank God, it is a most luxurious enjoyment to be
here. To a poetical temperament, the scenery of the lake is most
captivating ; and the opposite and distant shore, under the magical
and varying aspects which every change in the atmosphere and play
of the light is constantly producing, seems to belong to some un
earthly and supernatural region."
After his return from this delightful retreat, he found his time and
attention much engrossed in preparations for the annual session of
the diocesan convention, which was to meet in St. Peter's Church on
the 16th of August. But this was not all. " In addition," he says,
" to the cares which devolve upon me, with reference to the approach
ing convention, I am taken captive and entangled in my capacity of
trustee of the Auburn Academy, whose examinations I have been
as entirely engaged in conducting, for the last two days, as if I were
the only member who had any leisure ! It is not yet quite done, the
exhibition taking place at the meeting house, where I have to preside,
pray, and report, this afternoon." The repairs of the church were
now completed ; and an addition to the parsonage, which had been in
progress for some weeks, was also in a state of forwardness. Writ
ing on the 25th of July, he says, " We reopened our church last
Sunday under favorable auspices, and it presents a very satisfactory
appearance ; and the new part of the house, we trust, will be just
about tenantable by the time it is wanted for the convention."
His letters of the month of August, to his father and other cor
respondents, are chiefly occupied with notices of the convention
and other ecclesiastical affairs, from which a single passage may be

316 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
extracted. " The Lord gave the word, saith the Psalmist ; great was
the company of the preachers. So it was here last week. TI* con
vention was very full, and, the bishop said, the best that had yet been
held in the diocese. . . . There was much anxiety on the part
of the diocesan lest there should be divisions among us ; but he
was wonderfully relieved to find that all, from the commencement to
the close, was tuned to harmony, —
' From harmony to harmony,
Through all the compass of the notes it ran.' "
From his somewhat hurried and sketchy letters of September, here
are one or two brief extracts. He acknowledges some pleasant visits
from his elder and younger brother and other friends ; and though
he records in his journal an almost daily recurrence of headache
and other symptoms of indisposition, he appears to have had much
enjoyment in the society of his friends. Speaking of the new addi
tion to the parsonage, which, it seems, included a small chapel for
Sunday school purposes and for special lectures, he says, " Our
chapel is now completed, and was used for the Sunday school yes
terday. On Thursday, St. Matthew's, we open it with proper ser
vices. It is all paid for, and the parish is in good spirits. They
are thirsting to be instructed in our distinctive principles ; and I shall
make it my duty to meet the demand." With reference to the
Boston city mission, he says, " What you hear from Boston corre
sponds with my information. The city mission question was settled
a week ago. I have just learned the result, but nothing more. Our
excellent brother Wells was elected, and a better choice could not
be made. My especial friends would be better satisfied with him than
any other, save one, who was not to be had."
Writing to his father, October 11, he says, " I have just returned
from Moravia, whither I accompanied the bishop on Monday, to be
present at the consecration of the new church, that arises, phcenix-
like, from the ashes of the old, destroyed by fire last year. The
ride was a delightful one in such company, along the eastern shore
of Lake Owasco, from one end to the other, making the whole dis
tance about eighteen miles. The scenery, including this interesting
sheet of water, with its high and diversified bank, partly under cul
tivation, and green with the winter wheat, and partly clothed with
forests in their tinted autumn fohage, is picturesque beyond descrip
tion. Moravia is a dear little place — snugly nestled in a sheltered
nook, formed by a continuation of the same hills in which the lake
itself is cradled ; and I almost envied the aged pastor of the dale
his rural cure. A kind, simple-hearted, intelligent body of Church
men adorn their profession ; and the services made it a day much
to be remembered by its endearing associations."

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 317
A few extracts are subjoined from along and pleasant correspond
ence with some of his female friends in Boston, Misses C  and
H  , October 27. " I was at Skeneateles, on Tuesday, through
horrible mire and clay and many a slough of despond; but 1 reached
the wicket gate of the evangelist's house at last, and in season to
take leave of our dear brother Patterson, who was about to set out
to pass the winter in journeying through the south. He has greatly
improved during the summer, but our northern cold is too rough for
him. It is sad to part with such friends, for there are none herea
bouts that are like minded. ... I have purchased of him a
choice little instrument for the use of our chapel, of a true church
like tone, as David's harp of solemn sound ; and the chords which
his own skill and taste have drawn from it in past days, so rich and
ravishing, will ever haunt my memory. It is a sore trial to think
how many tedious months must roll away before we can hope to see
the faces and the places that we so much love ; and I trust we shall
at least draw closer to each other by letter than some of us have
done of late." He thus speaks of the city mission as he had be
fore written to his father : " My friends and I ought to be satisfied
with the result of the city mission election. Mr. Wells is, beyond
comparison, the very best man for that work whom I have ever
known, faithful and true. I am fain to believe that I have lost noth
ing by that movement in the estimation of those whose opinion I
most value ; and it has not been without its use, in enabling me to
determine who my real friefids are." To another correspondent
he remarks on the same subject, " It is indeed painful to find opposi
tion, and on such grounds, in quarters where I had least reason to
expect it, and from those who have dealt friendly with me and pro
fessed great regard. Whatever may be their data, I am sure that
there are those 'without,' of whom my ministry has, in past times,
had a better report. The Lord judge between me and them ! " But
before proceeding further, one more passage may be transcribed from
his letter to Miss C  : "I need not tell you how all that con
cerns the old church is as dear as ever. My wife has recently been
washing Miss Clapp's painting of the interior : I have covered the
frame with green paper, to protect it from the flies and the dust, and
have hung a green veil before it. Through this it appears as it did
in the solemn and pensive gloom of twilight ; and I make it, as
it were, my Rebla, in many an hour of mental devotion and con
templative solitude. How many who knelt with us in holy com
munion at those rails are now, we trust, in the temple above, and
rejoicing in the eternal communion of saints ! A thought of bless
ing, this, for our darkest hours."
To his excellent friend and brother, the Rev. Mr. Watson, of
Trinity Church, in the same letter from which a short extract has
already been made, he writes, "Our local affairs are prosperous, and

318 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1843.
all my relations, parochial and diocesan, are pleasant and happy,
beyond my ministerial experience at the east, as 1 feel that they are
beyond my deserts. If our family friends were but closer to us,
there would be little to ask. I hope we shall draw nearer together
by letter than we have done of late, my dear friend, whom I address
as one of many to whom I would breathe the same wish. The pros
pect of a long and tedious winter, with one day of sunshine to six
of cloud and darkness, is at times rather gloomy and oppressive, and
we long for the old familiar associations ofthe city."
November 6, to his father : " We are in a state of great quietude
here. I am going on at the rate of three sermons a week, includ
ing the lecture delivered on Wednesday evenings at ' our Ladies'
Chapel.' I endeavor to preach truth with great plainness of speech,
and it seems to be received in good part. He who giveth the
increase, however, doth not vouchsafe such visible fruits as our impa
tience often demands. . . . Winter seems to have set in pre
maturely. But we hope there may be some interval of melldw, hazy,
Indian summer before we turn the December cape and enter the
house of Capricorn. . . . To-morrow, if I see it, makes me
thirty-nine ; but, alas ! how little it brings of spiritual maturity !
' O for a closer walk with God.' "
November 9, to his friend Couthouy : " 1 am sorry to hear that
my little namesake has not been as healthy and vigorous this sum
mer as his first infancy promised ; but I trust he will improve, when
the frost of winter has done its work of purification upon your
wretched atmosphere, (New York.) 1 have no doubt, however,
that the breathing of his native air would have a happier effect upon
him, and you all, than any thing on this side of heaven. It maybe
that we shall all be allowed some day to breathe it together. If not,
may it be in some still better place."
St Andrew's day, to his father : " November takes leave of us
very much in the old English style, according to the writers on the
seasons, when cold, drizzle, and gloom lead spirits of morbid sensi
tiveness to make way with themselves. This is certainly a region
which has a climate peculiarly its own, and not perhaps the worst
thing about it either. We stand it pretty well, all things con
sidered, — are a little homesick now and then, — longing much after
you all, — but with too many comforts and blessings of every sort,
in our condition, to allow us to complain, even if we were more
unthankful and evil than I trust we are. I have good hope that, by
tbe grace of God, we may see something of an awakening Advent
among us as the outward world grows less attractive."
With a few extracts from his December correspondence, the
record of the year must close. December 15, to Miss Harris :
- What we chiefly miss here, next to the old familiar friends and
the intimacies with the persons and places, which we still renew in

1843.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 3j()
dreams, waking and sleeping, are the great libraries, public and pri
vate, which make Boston a privileged place. There are many de
partments of study, professional and general, which I would find
leisure to pursue, if we had at hand the great works of reference,
without which acquirement can never be thorough. For lack of
these, we go over what we have got and forgot; and of some of
these, I am sure I can say, the old is better. Heber's life has
afforded us increased delight ; and I hope I may say that we have
contemplated his picture with such reverential love, and grown so
familiar with its lines, as Southey says, that we feel as if we might
humbly hope to know him, if permitted to see his face in heaven.
Often, dear friend, has that book made us think and talk
about those we have left ; and I thought I could understand some
thing of his feeling when he wrote such passages as this: 'On Sun
days the recollection has been most forcibly brought to my mind, by
the use which on those days I have sometimes made of my old ser
mons, slightly altered, and by the contrast of the circumstances un
der which I now preach them, with the venerable walls and well-
known and friendly faces vvhich surrounded me when I last turned
over the same leaves. Yet here also I have an attentive audience,
and the opportunities of doing good are great.' On whatever other
topic 1 began with you, I should be sure to end in this. The imagery
gathers round me as I write — I see the old spire in my mind's
eye, and the chime as audible to mine inward ear.
' I see from tenements around
Still comes the pensive train,
Who in that church have blessings found
That fill their homes again.
For faith and peace, and mighty love,
That from the Godhead flow,
Show them the life of heaven above
Springs from the life below.' "
December 18, writing to his father, he gives this sad description
of the inhospitable climate in which he was dwelling : " For the
last six weeks we have had little else than perpetual gloom, unen
livened altogether, I verily believe, with more than forty-eight hours
of sunshine, and making these short days of the winter solstice still
shorter. I cannot but wish that I was less disaffected with Western
New York, for I believe it to be a field of great usefulness for those
who are at home here."
But in his last letter of the year, dated on the feast of St. John
the Evangelist, he writes in a more cheerful strain : " Our Christ
mas services, dear father, have passed, and left a redolence upon my
mind which I hope will long continue. The decorations of the

320 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
church are simple and natural, being quietly put up on Saturday
afternoon ; and as long as human nature is what it is, must ever be
grateful to the Christian mind, as fit emblems of its undying hopes.
And it is pleasant and dutiful, as Newman says, to use the same ma
terials which the prophets used to typify the eternity of Messiah's
reign, in symbolizing the fulfilment of their predictions. I prepared
myself to preach three times on Sunday, and again on Christmas.
. . . Though the weather continues to be very, very dull, there
is a more encouraging state of things, spiritually considered, than at
some previous periods ; aud it is our hope and prayer that the
Spirit will stir up the hearts of our careless churchmen, and make
their light shine so brightly that we shall less miss the light of the

1844.

An eventful year — a year during which he again changed his
residence and his pastoral relations, and returned, not to the same
parish, but to the same scenes, and among the same people, where
he had spent the first eleven years of his ministry. It is unnecessary
now to speak particularly of this change, or of the principal causes
which led to it, as these will be sufficiently developed in the course
of the narrative. It may be proper to remark, however, that the
rigors of the climate, the gloomy aspects of the winter season, and
the precarious state of his own health and that of his family, con
tributed not a little to weaken the bonds of his attachment to a place,
where, but for these circumstances, he might in all probability have
spent, most happily, all the remaining days of his ministry.
On New Year's day he received a highly-valued present from the
Ladies' Benevolent Association, of which he thus speaks in a letter
to his father : " I believe I did not mention to you, in my last, the
receipt of a rich and beautiful engraving of Bishop White, executed
from a painting of Inman's by an English artist, with a frame to
suit ; being a gift of the season from some of our honorable women,
worthy of all grateful acknowledgment. It is, indeed, a rare and glo
rious picture. The bishop is represented at full length and in com
plete canonicals, with silver buckles in his shoes, sitting in an antique
chair by the side of an altar, 'for high communion meetly spread,'
in some venerable Gothic cathedral. The figure and all the accom
paniments beautifully harmonize. Some lines which I wrote on first
seeing bishop White, at the opening of the convention in 1832,*
* For these lines, see page 126.

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 321
seemed to describe the scene so well, that I accompanied my acknowl
edgments with a copy."
He commences his next letter with an alarm from the parsonage
on account of the severe sickness of his little daughter ; but provi
dentially, before closing the letter, he is enabled to announce that
her relief has been as prompt as the attack was sudden. In the same
letter he thus speaks of a recent family affliction, in the death of
Dr. Thomas O'Hara Croswell, of Catskill : "It adds to the gloom
and depression of this week, that we have by this mail received the
tidings of our dear uncle's departure, in Catskill. They have of
course disturbed me, and, like all of you, I shall be anxious to hear
the particulars. I have often said this winter that I would see liim
again, God willing, before he died ; and that if I ever left my con
finement here, I should not return without going to Catskill. A
wise Providence has ordered otherwise. I hope, however, that we
may be permitted to embrace in that world where there is no dis
ease, old age, sorrow, sickness, or separation."
Such an extract as the following, from a letter of January 22,
serves to show how his feelings were affected by the peculiarities of
his location : "I do not grow any less impatient — or rather, it
would be more Christian to say, less unwilling — to entertain the
thought of withdrawing from this field of duty to one within easier
reach of ' home ' ; since the severity of the cold has, for the last
three days, made our house uncomfortable, almost beyond the
power of our fuel to mitigate it, and occasioning concern for our
little one which is at times almost too absorbing. My chief objec
tion — for there are minor ones — is, not that the' post is isolated,
and the incumbent buried alive, . . . but it is that I am cut
off from all access to the friends, domestic and clerical, with whom
the flower of my life passed so happily, and can only visit them at
long intervals, and at the expense of nearly a third of my income."
The following incidental remarks, in a letter of February 13, to
his friend Miss C  , are worth transcribing, if it were only to
give one more proof of the prevailing sentiments of his heart with
regard to pastoral duty. Speaking of his frequent calls to the
abodes of sickness, poverty, and affliction, he says, " Here I am
made to realize, every week, that it is my own fault if the vocation
of a man of prayer, and a son of consolation, do not cause the
abodes of the diseased, through the influences of the Holy Spirit, to
be indeed ' bright, with something of celestial light.' I confess this
part of my duty grows more delightful to me from its double
effect — as I minister not only to those who are before me, but live
over again, in spirit, the scenes in which I so long lived, and moved,
and had my being, in a land that is very far off, in one sense, and
very near in another. Doubt not that there is much in these rela
tions to keep you all in mind. In the conscious glory which I have
41

322 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
seen shed, as it were, round ' cold huts, where poor men lie,' as we
united in the holy ordinances of our religion, I have been convinced
that I did not greatly mistake my vocation in supposing that the
wishes and desires of my will were to preach the gospel to the
sons and daughters of poverty and tribulation, in the capacity of
city missionary. I covet no higher earthly calling, no deeper
aspiration." The following production is transcribed in the same form in which
it was transmitted to his father and some other correspondents,
not omitting the apology with which he saw fit to introduce it :
" The editor of the ' Evergreen,' (a monthly periodical then pub
lished at New Haven,) having requested me to contribute something
for his work, he is quite welcome to what I have here written. I
do not wish my name to be connected with it, or any other signa
ture. ' For if, as I do hope, the vein be good,' the world will find
it out quite soon enough ; and if it be a failure, let it perish anony
mously." And to his friend Miss H  , to whom he also sent a
copy, he says, " I always see reason to regret it whenever I am
tempted to depart from simple ballad rhymes, whose freedom from
pretension saves them from criticism, and carries the popular feel
ing in their favor. Such is human nature, however, to be always
beset with a morbid desire to do something different from what we
can do most easily and acceptably. Imperfect as is the execution,
however, I would not wish the sentiment changed in any particular."

BISHOP GRISWOLD'S MEMORIAL.

" As Elisha witnessed the translation of E_gah, so we could hardly hope
any thing better for his successor than that the mantle of this our father
in Israel might rest upon him." W. C.
"I was present, with eeveral of the clergy, about ten minutes after his
death, which, as you know, took place in Bishop Eastbubh's study. It was
a scene long to be remembered. There lay the good old man, extended at
full length on the floor, more majestic and commanding of presence in
death than I had ever beheld him in life. His silver hairs spread a kind
of halo round his head, and his blue cloak wrapped gracefully round his
limbs, with his armB crossed on hia bosom, he looked like a Christian
* warrior taking hia rest' Peace to his ashes I "
Letter from Rev. J. L. "Watsoit.
The funeral year has through its circle run,
And Memory's spells the solemn scene renew.
When, like Elijah, thy good mission done,
Leaving thy mantle with thy chosen one,*
* " The desire of his soul had just been accomplished. He had seen the
council of his diocese, which had been assembled at his own earnest summons,
meeting in harmonious brotherhood, and appointing his official successor.
And when all the preparatory measures had been completed, he had, in coru-

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 323
Thy sainted spirit to its source withdrew ;
And Reverence still, in many a prophet's son,
To Bethel comes, and stands afar to view,
And prays that he on whom thy titles rest
May be both with thy robe and with thy spirit blest
Methinks I see thee, as I oft have seen
In other days, so chastened and resigned,
Serving the Lord, as with a prophet's mien,
Or Paul's, in all humility of mind.
I see thy trials on thy faded cheek,
But thine endurance in thy brow serene,
Thy look elate, but yet subdued and meek,
Thy seraph smile, and sweet, unconscious air
That threw a glory round thine apostolic chair.
Long had I loved thee with a filial heart,
And mourn thee with a deep and sorrowing love —
Thrice happy, might I hope to bear a part
In the same mansions of the house above.
May I be with thee, where thy lot shall be,
And grow more like thee, in thy simple guise,
Thy unaffected truth's sincerity,
And all that made so lovely in our eyes
The quiet, childlike heart, which God doth highly prize.
Father, whose life was thus devoid of pride,
Thus lowly wise, on winning souls intent,
Let not thy ransomed spirit now be tried,
Among the myriads of the glorified,
By any pledge of love on thee misspent
Thou wouldst not ask a costly monument,
Nor joy to see the storied rock assume
Thy living shape ; or sculptured figures, bent
In mimic sorrow o'er a garnished tomb,
Enshrine thy place of rest amid the minster's gloom.

pany with some of his brethren in office, and in the presence of his assembled
clergy, performed the last finishing and apostolic ceremonial. And now,
having been permitted to behold all things done, he walks to and fro, for a
few weeks, in the midst of us, and then, in the fulness of years, he passes
instantly away, and enters into an everlasting rest from all his labors ; and to
invest with still further interest and solemnity the closing moments of his
career, it iB so ordered, in the course of Providence, that his spirit shall
escape from its earthly prison house beneath the very roof of him who had
been destined to stand in his room and continue his labors." — Bishop East-
huen's Sermon at the interment of Bishop Griswold.

324 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
But rather, as on earth thou oft hast prayed,
Wouldst pray, that all who loved thee, far or nigh, —
Priest, Levite, elder, matron, youth, and maid,
On whom thy hands in solemn rites were laid, —
Might grow in every grace as years went by,
And, stirring up the gift through thee conveyed,
Have their blest record with thine own on high ;
And walking in the steps which thou hast trod,
Be thy memorial dear, alike to man and God.
February 15, 1844, Anniversary op Bishop Griswold's death.
The following passage occurs, in a letter of March 4, to a very
intimate friend, to whom he had just been speaking of the severe
losses which his parish had sustained, by the death and removal of
some of its most prominent and useful members, and of the tendency
to indisposition in himself and family : " After Easter, we hope to
proceed easterly ; nor should we greatly regret it, if it were clearly
manifested that the Lord had need of me there. I have ceased to
be fastidious about my sphere of labor. Any where, city or country,
where I might seem fitted for usefulness, and where my father's house
and the scenes of my childhood were accessible without great diffi
culty, would fulfil all the desires of my heart."
He expresses similar sentiments in a subsequent letter to his
father, adding, " I flatter myself that, with my ministerial expe
rience and large variety of sermons, I am not without some apti
tude for usefulness almost any where." He speaks at the same time
very affectionately of his parish, and only regrets that the appear
ances of spiritual growth are not more promising ; and after alluding
to some very humble positions in the neighborhood of his early
home, he says, " You may be amused at all this castle building ;
but you cannot say that it is on an extravagant plan ; and I hope it
is not otherwise than innocent, and will do no harm."
The remaining letters of the month relate chiefly to plans and
suggestions with regard to an anticipated eastern visit, which seems
to have been deemed essential to the restoration of his wife's health.
" I never saw her (he says) quite so prostrated with nervous debility,
having been hardly able to sit up the whole day, for the last three
days. Nothing, we are satisfied, will be so likely to prove beneficial
as to change the scene for the better. I flatter myself that there is
no impediment to her speedy restoration which this will not be suf
ficient to remove."
The Easter services being brought to a close, he found it expedi
ent to make immediate arrangements for the proposed journey. He
had designed to defer it to a more favorable season. But he says,
"I have reversed the decision so recently made, and yield to the
apparent necessity of translating my wife at once to the restorative

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 325
influences of her native air. I think there is nothing in her case
but extreme debility and nervous prostration, which the journey and
the visit will be sufficient to remove, if they are not delayed." Ac
cordingly they left Auburn on the 17th of April, and, taking Utica
and Albany on their way, arrived at Boston on the 19th, the mother
and child seeming no worse for the ride. Allowing himself an ab
sence from his parish of only a few days, including two Sundays,
he divided his time very pleasantly among his friends in Boston,
Hartford, and New Haven, and returned again to his parish on the
8th of May ; leaving his wife and child to prolong their visit in
Boston for an indefinite period.
On his arrival at his parish, his attention was immediately en
grossed by his preparations for the bishop's visitation, which took
place on Sunday, the 12th of May. The class presented for confir
mation consisted of only six persons. " The number (he says, in
a letter to his father) might have been larger, had I had more time ;
but all was done that could be done in the interval ; and brother
Patterson had fully supplied my lack in the way of pulpit duty."
During his absence, and for a few days after his return, the parson
age had been occupied by Mr. Patterson and family ; and he
speaks in terms of strong regret at the idea of parting with them.
" I expect (he says) to renew some of the trials of my bachelorship
My godson, George Herbert Patterson, Mr. P.'s only child, is
a fine little boy, just beginning to interest himself in the Church. I
have given him, as a parting gift, a copy of the Prayer Book, with
those memorable words of his great namesake — ' O, give me the
prayers of my mother the Church ; no other prayers can equal
these.' This is, after all, the only presentation volume, next to the
Bible, that I take satisfaction in bestowing ; knowing that there indeed
is spirit, and there is life. As I notice the happy effects of such
tokens in enlisting the interest of a child in these services, I won
der what substitute those people have who despise this method of
training up the young in the way they should go." After speaking
of the good reports of the mother and child from Boston, he adds,
with a feeling which every parent will know how to appreciate,
" The void and loneliness occasioned by their absence, the deserted
nursery, the empty crib, the unoccupied high chair, the silence of
the places that but recently echoed to the child's merry laugh, sadly
recall the time when the child of hope and prayers went to heaven,
and they who were lovely in their lives, in their death were not di
vided." We here introduce some lines written on his little daughter Mary's
second Birthday, June 4, and sent to his friends at home, and to Miss
H  , of Boston, with introductory explanations, which give to
them a peculiar and touching interest. Miss H  had just been
bereaved of a beloved relation ; and these are the strains of con-

326 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
dolence in which he addresses her : " Appreciating the character
of your dear aunt Mary, as approaching very nearly to the per
fection of spiritual beauty, I can enter in some measure into the
feelings of those who will mourn for her many days. To realize
that you will no more see on earth that well-beloved face, that has
been associated from infancy with all dear domestic delights — sym
pathizing in all your joys and sorrows — into whose faithful ear you
could breathe all the workings of your affections — and upon whose
tried Christian experience you could safely rely for spiritual guidance
— this is indeed bereavement. But you are familiar, also, with the
considerations by which grief is to be soothed and moderated. ' For,'
says holy Bishop Taylor, ' if the holy dead did die in the Lord, it
is an ill expression of affection to weep uncomfortably at a change
that hath carried her to a state of high felicity. Something is to be
given to nature and the honor of the deceased friend ; for that man
is esteemed miserable for whom no friend or relation sheds a tear
or pays a solemn sigh. I desire to die a dry death ; but I am not
desirous to have a dry funeral : some flowers sprinkled on my grave
would be well and comely, and a soft shower to turn those flowers
into a springing memory.' Some such humble flowers I would fain
sprinkle on aunt Mary's grave, knowing that soft showers will not
be wanting to turn them into a springing memory. May her happy
and holy life and death be sanctified in the hearts of all who knew
her, and lead those who survive by the new and living way opened
in the blood of Jesus to the same triumph of grace over nature.
In musing on the birth of another Mary, I could not but blend the
thoughts of the race that was finished with that which was begun.
To those who understand the allusion they may have an interest,
which they could not claim on other grounds, and which will be with
you, I trust, a sufficient apology for filling the rest of the sheet with
them."

O God, who on our household
Thus far hast fondly smiled,
I thank thee for thy choicest boon-
My precious, only child.
And pray thee that the favor
Which has so richly blest
Her sunny days of infancy,
May shine on all the rest.

I have not asked for beauty,
Pair cheek, or golden tress ;
Though all that is within me melts
At woman's loveliness.

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 327
I have not asked for riches,
Nor even wealth of mind ;
Though doting on intelligence,
Pure, lofty, and refined.
Those better gifts I covet,
Which thou dost bid us seek —
A soul serene, affectionate,
And resolute, yet meek.
The meetness of the children
Who shared our Lord's caress,
And whose surpassing excellence
Is early holiness.
O, might she thus resemble
That late departed saint,
Who, worthy of Madonna's name,
I may not dare to paint !
Or catch the falling glories
Throned on that aged brow,
Which, in the multitude of peace,
Has passed from us but now.
Fain would I ask, as o'er me
That raptured image swims,
All ready with the seraph choirs
To join the heavenly hymns,
That her ' unearthly comforts,'
And looks, ' divinely mild,'
Might, by some secret sympathy,
Inspire my gracious child.
While thus, dear Lord, my musings
Have blent, in tender ties,
The child, and aged childlike friend
Whom tears shall canonize,
May the hope that both are living
And rejoicing in thy smile,
Cheer the lonely dwelling-places
Which each has left a while.
In letters to his friends, written soon after his return from his eastern
journey, there are several allusions to the state of the church in Bos
ton, and the immediate vicinity, plainly foreshadowing the course
which he afterwards thought it his duty to pursue. The following, to
his excellent brother Dr. Strong, June 24, is an instance : " One

328 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
cheering symptom in the midst of much that was of ill omen for the
Church, was the many instances of enlightened and devoted attach
ment to sound principles, which had developed themselves among
the laity since my last visit, and promising something for the exten
sion of the Church about Boston, analogous to the influence of
'Young England ' upon ' Old.' God grant that such instances may
be a thousand fold increased and multiplied."
The month of July passed away chiefly in solitude, and few inci
dents occurred to break in upon his regular course of pastoral
duties. In his letters to his father, he often speaks of his loneliness,
as a fond husband and parent might be expected to speak ; and
seems impatient for the time to come when he may again visit his
eastern friends. Under these circumstances, he was well prepared to
enjoy a visit which he had rather hoped for than expected. He thus
writes, under date of " Buffalo, Sunday evening, July 28 : This is
a season of wonders. Even as I intimated, 1 have been carried
away captive by my next friend and more than brother, (Bishop
Doane,) and I steal a moment to apprise you of the fact, before I
leave the confines of the diocese. The bisliop, with his wife and
children, came to Auburn on Thursday, and passed the day, much
to our mutual delight. Next morning they set out for the Falls ;
and I found the inducements to accompany them quite irresistible,
especially as I thought it might be my only chance. We stopped
at Geneva a few hours ; reached Rochester at dark, and passed the
night. On Saturday we came on to this place. The bishop and
party are provided for at Rev. Dr. Shelton's, and I am domesti
cated with our friend and brother of ' auld lang syne,' Rev. Ed
ward Ingersoll. . . . The bishop threatens to take me across
the line to Toronto ; though it is quite doubtful at present whether
I accompany him any farther."
Whatever may have been his desire on this subject, he was con
strained, it seems, to relinquish it, and return to his post. This
account of his journey is from his next letter, Auburn, August 2 :
» I have returned safe and sound, after a week of the pleasantest
journeying that I have yet had. I hasten to take up my brief line
of communication where I dropped it at Buffalo. We dropped
down the noble Niagara River, under the British flag, on Monday
morning, crossing from Schlosser to Chippewa, two miles above the
Falls, and with nothing between to save us, if any thing should
befall the steamboat. We all agreed that it was very presump
tuous after we had safely landed, although it is done every day ;
and it is considered very important to get the first view from the
Canada side. I will not be so adventurous as to attempt a descrip
tion, either of the Falls or the sensations they create. Enough to
say, that some of the party burst into tears, and wept like children.
After spending part of two days on one side and the other, I felt

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 329
that there was nothing beyond which I wished to see — that I had
reached the climax. I took my leave of the party on Tuesday
afternoon. The bishop and family were to go next day to Lewis-
ton, Toronto, and thence to Montreal and Quebec ; but I fear that
the rest of their route will seem tame and insipid. Niagara is a
scene to finish such an expedition withal." In a letter of the same
date to Miss Callahan, sister of Mrs. Doane, he gives a similar,
though more particular, account of this interview and journey with
the family ; and on the 8th, writing to the late Mrs. Sumner, he
remarks, "It has been a dull summer to me, with the exception
of the day that Bishop Doane and suite spent here, and the week in
which I accompanied him, for lack of a chaplain, to the Great
Falls." At this date he was still suffering from severe illness ; but
he expresses a hope that his next will be written " with a steadier
hand. At present," he says, "it is less so than my head; and
there have been days when I could not write at all."
He was now contemplating his eastern journey ; but being
detained for a few days, he attended the consecration of the new
church at Geneva, as well as the last meeting of the standing com
mittee before the convention. After this, having secured a supply
for his pulpit during his absence, he took his departure on the 20th.
"I have made provision," he says, "for three Sundays, which, if
we return at all, as I suppose we shall, must suffice."
The following passage from a letter of the 16th, though relating
to a private and family concern, is nevertheless so characteristic of
his feelings and views on a very interesting subject, that there is a
pleasure in transcribing it. His cousin, the wife of the Rev. Henry
Fitch, had been bereaved of a little daughter whose name was
Jane. On the birth of another daughter, he presented his congrat
ulations through his father, adding this touching injunction : " I
hope she will call her little one Mary. At least, that she will not
be so unchristian or inconsiderate as to give it the name and the
place of the beloved departed, who is still as really existing, as
part of the family, as if she were but absent on a visit.

" 'Twould seem to blot her from her place.
Though she, to fill one bitter cup,
Hath died, we must not thus efface
Her memory. No ! we reckon up
The lost, who slumber in their grave,
As ours. We cite their several names,
Which He, who now hath taken, gave,
And love as well the absent claims
As this new born. 'Twould give me pain
To hear her call another Jane."
42

330 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
He next dates from Boston, where he arrived, with his little
family, on the 21st, and met with a reception peculiarly gratifying
to his feeliugs. So warm and cordial were the greetings of his old
friends and former parishioners, — so familiar were the scenes and
the faces round him, — that it seemed difficult, for a time, to realize
that he had ever been absent from them. The whole four years
appeared to have passed away like a dream. On Sunday, the 1st
of September, he was induced to officiate in his old church ; and
here, as an evidence of his welcome, and as if to revive the recol
lection of former times, six children were presented to receive bap
tism at his hands. He had not been long in Boston before he re
ceived convincing proof of the estimation and affection in which he
was held ; for measures were immediately taken for the organiza
tion of a new parish, with the hope that his services might be
secured as rector. " Strong wishes," he writes, " have been ex
pressed in many quarters to have me fixed in some position of use
fulness here." It will be seen, as the narrative proceeds, that meas
ures were speedily taken for the accomplishment of this object.
While absent with his family on a visit to New Haven, he was
kept apprised, by his attentive correspondent in Boston, ofthe prog
ress and prospects of the enterprise above alluded to. On the 12th
of September, he was informed of the result of a meeting held for
the purpose of making arrangements for the organization of a new
parish, with such assurances of his being called and provided for as
rector, that he was no longer left in doubt as to the success of the
undertaking. To the Rev. J. L. Watson, with whom he had always
maintained the most friendly relations, he thus writes on the 16th:
" In writing to our excellent friend Dr. Shattuck, this morning, I
informed him that we should return to Auburn this week, and there
await any communication from the new parish. On further reflec
tion, it seems best that we should remain here until the question is
officially decided, and so spare my wife and little one the fatigue and
expense of a journey of seven hundred miles and more, back and forth.
Will you please to inform my correspondent of this change in our
purpose, and to request that, whatever is intended for us, may be
sent to this place 1 Upon the receipt ofthe evidence of my i-' tion
as rector, I will forward my resignation to Auburn without aclay,
and be prepared to enter on my new field of duty at the solemn
season of which the name of the parish will long, I trust, continue
to remind the crooked and perverse generations — preparing the way
of the Lord, and making straight his paths. I think it not improba
ble that the parish of St. Peter's would desire me to remain until they
could make some provision for a successor. This they will find but
little difficulty in doing, as the parish is justly regarded as one of the
most desirable in the diocese. If local attachments, intimacies, and
kindred ties did not draw elsewhere, as in my case, there are few of

1844.] ST. PETER'S, AUBURN. 331
our western villages that would present more inducements. I have
experienced great kindness at their hands, and cannot think of leav
ing them without much regret, and not a ' few natural tears.' But
while I shrink from contemplating the trying scene that awaits me
there, I confess to you, that the prospect of resuming my ministry
once more in my old and almost native haunts fills my mind with
a thousand pleasant images of the future, which I am too sanguine,
perhaps, in expecting to find renewals of the past ; but as they are
all connected with the satisfactory discharge of duties in wliich I
have had some experience, I trust it is not sinful to indulge them.
Favored as I shall be with the cooperation of so many of the flower
of the Church, I shall feel that it will be, in a great measure, my
own fault if I do not realize some of them. The thought of being
restored to the society and intercouse of those with whom I so long
took sweet counsel together and walked to the house of God in
company, is a luxury beyond the deserts of such a miserable sinner."
Again, on the 18th, writing to Miss H  , he says, " I anticipate
a trying scene in leaving Auburn, for there has been much to attach
me to that cure, both to persons and places : but ' we trust that we
have a good conscience,' and have the sanction and approval of
those upon whose judgment we have been most accustomed to rely.
. . . I confess that the footing upon which this business seems
likely to be placed, humanly speakiug, inspires me with great hope
of success. At any rate, it will be commenced with advantages
which will throw a great weight of responsibility upon me if it should
fail. I feel a deep consciousness how entirely our strength is weak
ness, and that, more than ever, I shall be with you in weakness and
in fear, and in much trembling. Still, we know that there is a
mighty and mysterious power, through which, if we seek it, we ' can
do all things ; ' and I am sure that I shall have the sympathy of
yourself and many others, in prayers that to me, also, this grace may
be given, and that I may come to you in the fulness of the blessings
of the gospel of peace."
In a letter from Dr. Shattuck, of the 20th of September, he was
informed that the new parish had been duly incorporated, under the
nnine of the " Church of the Advent," and that arrangements had
been made for its complete organization. And in his next letter an
official call is communicated : — Boston, September 25, 1844.
Rev. and dear Sir : At a meeting of the corporation of the parish of
the Advent, held last evening, you were unanimously elected the rector of
the parish, and I was appointed a committee to correspond with you, and
inform you of your election. With great regard, I am,
Very truly, yours,
G. C. SHATTUCK, Jr.
Rev. William Croswell.

332 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
On the receipt and acceptance of this call, he immediately ten
dered his resignation of his cure at Auburn in the following letter : —
Boston, September 24, 1844.
To the Wardens and Vestry of St. Peter's Church, Auburn.
Gentlemen : Considerations growing chiefly out of the state of my own
health and that of my family, and the necessity of long and expensive an
nual absences on that account, have for some time impressed me with the
conviction, that it would be my duty to resign my present interesting
cure. An invitation received during my absence to assume the charge of
" The Church of the Advent," a new parish just organized in Boston,
and to be commenced with the opening of the ecclesiastical year, has led me
to the conclusion that the time to act upon that conviction has arrived. I
therefore respectfully tender herewith my resignation of the rectorship of
the parish of " St Peter's Church, Auburn." I cannot sever a tie which has
bound us together in such happy and harmonious relations without a severe
trial of feeling ; but, at the same time, not without a full persuasion, that, in
so eligible a parish, there will be no difficulty in securing a pastor after your
own mind. As part of our canonical obligation, to " do nothing without the
bishop," I submit a. copy of this letter to our beloved diocesan, with a
most grateful appreciation of the privileges which I have enjoyed under
his episcopal guidance, and a most unaffected reluctance to labor under any
other master builder. I shall be happy to continue to serve the parish so
long as my engagements will permit, or until provision is made to secure a
successor, or other arrangements settled for permanent ministrations. Mean
while, with a lively remembrance of the kindness of the parish, individually
and collectively regarded, during my connection with it, and with unabated
and earnest wishes for its welfare and prosperity, I am, in the bonds of the
Gospel and the Church of Christ, Your friend and fellow-servant, WILLIAM CROSWELL.
It now remained for him to return to Auburn, to take leave of
the parish, and to make the necessary preparations for his removal.
Accordingly, on the 26th of September, he left New Haven, with
his family and his cousin Miss Sherman, and after spending a night
at Hartford, proceeded by stage and steamboat to Springfield. But
here the mother and child, being, it was thought, too unwell to bear
the fatigue of the long, immediate journey westward, were persuaded
to set their faces directly to Boston ; while he and his cousin set for
ward on their way to Auburn, and, by journeying all night on the
railroad, reached Auburn on Saturday, the 28th, at nine o'clock in
the morning. " The night," he says, in announcing his arrival,
" was as bright as a full harvest moon could make it ; but it was
very cold for the season, and the hoarfrost was like snow upon the
ground. We kindled up a fire upon our arrival, and have contrived
to make ourselves comfortable, My letter was received by the junior
warden yesterday, and had been seen by the members of the vestry
individually ; but as several were absent from town, it was thought
best to delay the meeting till Monday. All seem surprised ; many
will be sorry ; some, perhaps, quite the reverse ; it would be strange
if it were not so." Speaking of information received from Boston,

1844.] RESIGNATION OF ST. PETER'S. 333
he says, " Bishop Eastburn made no objection to my coming,
though he would have preferred one whose theological views more
nearly corresponded with those of the Rev. 3Ir. Butler ! " He
concludes, " The prospect seems more cheerful than it did at first ;
and I hope we shall have a happy and harmonious leavetaking, and
without any needless delay."
Sunday, the 29th, he officiated as usual ; but the day being stormy,
but few attended the services.
On Monday evening the wardens and vestry met, and accepted
his resignation ; making choice, at the same time, of the Rev. Sam
uel H. Coxe as his successor. And on the following day he re
ceived the official notice of the result : —

Auburn, October 1, 1844.
" Rev. and dear Sir: The wardens and vestrymen of St. Peter's Church,
Auburn, have received your note of the 24th ult., announcing your resigna
tion of the rectorship of the parish. While they admit the force of the do
mestic reasons which have produced this step on your part, they cannot allow
the occasion of their acceptance of your resignation to pass without an ex
pression of their sincere regret at the separation. We have been associated
for a period of four years, in the relation of pastor and people, under circum
stances of both joy and sorrow ; and it gives us pleasure to bear testimony
to the kindness, faithfulness, and ability with which you, as a Christian min
ister, have discharged its various and responsible duties amongst us. If any
thing can add to your consciousness of having faithfully discharged your
duty to the great Head of the Church, in administering the admonitions and
consolations of our holy religion, it wiil be in the reflection that those ties
which have so long bound us together in sacred fellowship are borne in re
membrance by your parishioners with grateful pleasure. Be assured, sir,
you will carry with you, wherever you go, our warmest wishes for your pros
perity, happiness, and continued usefulness.
I have the honor to be, in behalf of the wardens and vestrymen of St.
Peter's Church, Auburn, your sincere friend and obedient servant,
S. A. GOODWIN.
Rev. William Croswell.

From his diocesan, Bishop De Lancey, who was, at the time, in
Philadelphia, attending the session of the General Convention, he
received the following note, of October 8, written in great haste,
and amid the absorbing duties of the House of Bishops : —
" • • . I am so occupied that I am only able to say how
sorry I am that you are about to leave the diocese, as stated in your
letter. I will not complain, however, for I know you would only
do it on solid and conscientious grounds. May God bless you and
yours wherever you go ; and be assured of my affectionate regard
and love. I shall hope to hear from you before you start for
Boston. The election of Mr. Coxe, as your successor, so promptly
and harmoniously, gives me great pleasure. May the work prosper
in his hands."

334 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
On the 9th of October, he writes to his mother, — his father being
absent at the General Convention, — "It has been a great relief to
both Elizabeth and myself that my wife and Mary were safely
domesticated for the winter. What with the fatigue and exposure
of the journey, the anxiety and discomfort of breaking up the house,
and the parting with every human being, man, woman, and child, in
the parish, the trial, I fear, would have been too great. ... I
wrote to the Rev. Mr. Coxe, at the request of the vestry, with great
cordiality. He has given me a very affectionate reply, and will
probably be here this week. As soon as I can set him on his way
rejoicing, I shall go on mine."
To some of his friends he writes, under the same date, in a more
pensive mood, enclosing copies of the following stanzas, "which,"
he remarks, " are probably the last strains which I shall ever indite
in this consecrated house, now ' left unto us desolate.' " They were
written in a copy of Milton, presented by the Rev. E. G. Prescott,
who died on his passage to the Azores, on the third day after his
departure, on the morning of the 11th of April, 1844. Copies were
transcribed, not only for these, but other friends, and were finally
published at the close of Bishop Doane's commemorative discourse.
To Miss Callahan he writes, " Though I do not consider them as
worthy of publication, I know that you will value them, and that
there are other friends, in whose kindred eyes they may have an
interest, apart from the consideration of poetical merit."

ELEGIAC.
Thy cherished gift, departed friend,
With trembling I unfold,
And fondly gaze upon its lids
In crimson wrought, and gold.
I open to its dirge-like strain
On one who died at sea ;
And as I read of Lycidas,
I think, the while, of thee.
Thy languid spirit sought in vain
The beautiful Azores,
But, ere it reached the middle main,
Was rapt to happier shores.
As in a dream-like, halcyon calm,
It entered on its rest,
Amid the groves of Paradise,
And islands of the blest

1844.] REMOVAL TO BOSTON. 335
Kind friends afar, at thy behest,
Had fitted bower and hall
To entertain their kindred guest
In ever-green Fayal.
In greener bowers thy bed is made,
And sounder is thy sleep,
Than ever life had known, among
The chambers of the deep.
No mark along the waste may tell
The place of thy repose ;
Yet there is Opte who loved thee well,
And loved by thee, who knows.
And though now sunk, like Lycidas,
Beneath the watery floor,
Yet His great might that walked the waves
Shall thy dear form restore.
Though years must first pass by, no time
His purpose shall derange,
And in his guardianship thy soul
Shall suffer no " sea change.''
And when the depths give back their charge,
O, may our welcome be
With thine, among Christ's ransomed throngs,
Where there is " no more sea " !
Writing to Rev. Dr. Strong on St. John's day, June 24, he says,
"Prescott's death shocked me greatly. We were intimate, and
nearly the same age ; and I have some similar warnings to remind
me that the house of my earthly tabernacle is not too strong to be
dissolved. Whenever it is, may I have with you, dearest brother, a
share in that house of God, not made with hands, eternal in the
heavens." To another friend, the much venerated Miss Margaret Coffin,
he expresses similar sentiments of the scenes of desolation by which
he was surrounded, and of the great struggle which it cost him to
part with his people, moving him " oftentimes to tears." Speaking
also of his verses, he adds, "I have sent them only where they will be
sure of a partial construction, and with the apology, that according
to what a man hath it is required, and not according to what he
hath not." He concludes in this affecting strain : " For myself, I
confess I look forward with great delight to the period when our
intercourse shall be renewed as in other days, and with those also
whom, next to my own kindred in the flesh, I dearly love in the
Lord. That it may please God to allow us many years of happy

336 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
intercourse, and that we may both live to see the work of the Lord
prosper in our hands, and great peace upon Israel, is the fervent
prayer of yours, with great sincerity and affection."
In speaking of his approaching separation from this cure, he
expresses himself with much emotion : " I took my leave of the
parish from the pulpit on Sunday afternoon. The separation of
the ties that have bound us together has tried my firmness to the
uttermost. ... It was almost as solemn a ' rehearsal of death '
as that at Christ Church four years since. I find that my own
attachments are stronger than I was aware ; and there is every
evidence on the other side of the most unaffected and universal
regret." To another friend he expresses similar sentiments : " I
find the mutual attachments, which had sprung up and ripened, were
stronger than we were probably aware of on either side, and it
requires more firmness than I can always command to sever them.
I have received every demonstration of confidence, sympathy, and
regard, down to this last moment, when the house is dismantled,
and I have only to introduce my successor and take leave.
My cousin will probably take her departure to-morrow for New
Haven. When I shall be able to follow, I cannot now fix a day.
The last link, however, will soon be broken, and I shall be free,
humanly speaking."
It appears from his journal that he left Auburn on Friday, Oc
tober 25, and making a short pause at Utica and Albany, passed
down the river on Saturday night to New York. Here he enjoyed
the hospitalities of his friend Couthouy, who then resided in the
city, and with him attended the ministrations of the Church of the
Crucifixion, having the gratification, which he had much desired, of
hearing Dr. Seabury. On the Thursday following he visited his
friend Bishop Doane, at Burlington, and returning on Saturday,
spent another Sunday in New York. On Monday, November 4,
he proceeded to New Haven, thence to Hartford, and on the 7thj
his fortieth birthday, he arrived in Boston, ready to resume his
ministerial duties among his old friends and brethren, but in a new
pastoral relation. He was just in time to answer to the following
pleasant call from his good friend Dr. Shattuck : —

" Rev. and dear Sir : Invitations are issued for Thursday evening, at
8 o'clock, to meet the rector, wardens, and vestry of the Church of the
Advent. Please do what you can to save us from such a predicament as
was that of the players who performed Hamlet, the part of Hamlet being
left out."

He writes in his next letter, " I was in season for the party at
Dr. Shattuck's, where I met with quite a host of catholic Church
men, including some twenty of the clergy and laymen of all the

1844.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 337
churches. By a wonderful coincidence, it occurred to me often, in
the course of the day, that this day of my entrance was my fortieth
birthday." It now remained to make suitable arrangements for the celebra
tion of divine worship under the new organization, and to com
mence with the ecclesiastical year. Some little difficulty was expe
rienced in procuring a room for this purpose. But it will be seen
by the subjoined card, which was issued at the time, that every thing
was in readiness for the anticipated service. And on the 27th of No
vember he writes to his father in this wise : " This is a week of
anxiety and care, but full of joyful anticipation. . . . We have
engaged our room, and are putting it in order. The 'devotions of
the people ' are very animating and abundant. Our only trouble is,
that we can get no room that will be large enough at present. I
have already the names of more than ninety who have voluntarily
enrolled themselves under my pastoral care, including children,
and nearly fifty communicants. Donations have been forthcoming
from all quarters for putting our oratory in order. In short, I have
all sorts of encouragement, and shall endeavor, by the divine bless
ing, that it shall not be my fault if the work does not prosper in
such feeble hands. ... I have received from Bishop De Lancey
my letter dimissory, and shall present it to our present diocesan
to-day. He is civil; and I ask and expect nothing more. 'A fair
field, and no favors,' is my desire. ... A great deal of duty, of
course, as you well know, in these preliminary matters, devolves
upon me ; though my coadjutors are very active, and ready to do
any thing to help forward the work. I will send you our card."

"THE CHURCH OF THE ADVENT
" Has been recently organized and incorporated, with a view to secure to the
inhabitants of the north-western portion of the city the ministrations of the
Protestant Episcopal Church; and more especially to secure the same to the
poor and needy in a manner free from unnecessary expense and all ungracious
circumstances. " A convenient place of worship is about to be provided in the building
now in a course of erection on the corner of Lowell and Causeway Streets.
" Until this building is completed, temporary arrangements have been
made for holding divine service in an ' upper room ' at No. 13 Merrimack
Street, within a few doors of Causeway Street — to commence on Advent
Sunday, the first day in December.
" The sittings will be free to all. Permanent seats, however, will be ap
propriated to those who signify their intention to become constant occupants.
" The Church will be supported, as all churches were formerly wont to
be, by the voluntary oblations of the worshippers. In accordance with the
precepts of God's word and the order of his Church, opportunity will be
afforded for each individual, whether young or old, to ' offer his gift upon
the altar ' in that part of the divine service which is called ' the offertory.'
' Every man according as he is disposed in his heart, not grudgingly or of
necessity, for God loveth a cheerful giver.'
43

338 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1844.
" A prominent object, in addition to the usual offices of worship, will be
the thorough catechetical training of the children in the principles and prac
tice of Christ's religion, as set forth in the Book of Common Prayer.
" The cooperation of all who are disposed to take a part in this good work
is respectfully and earnestly solicited.
"For further information, apply to the rector, the Rev. W. Croswell,
7 Crescent Place, or to either of the following gentlemen : R. H. Dana,
Senior Warden, C. P. Gordon, Junior Warden, R. M. Copeland, Theo
dore Metcalf, T. J. M. Dehon, T. D. Morris, W. E. Coale, R. H.
Dana, Jr., R. H. Salter, C. R. Bond, Vestrymen.
" QJ=' The rector will hold himself in readiness to attend to any of the
duties of his calling, public or private, especially those connected with the
offices for the Visitation and Communion of the Sick, the Burial of the
Dead, &c."
The services were accordingly commenced, agreeably to this an
nouncement. And he writes, December 3, " Advent Sunday was
rather unpropitious without, but the King's daughter was all glorious
within. Our loft was crowded all day and evening. The congre
gation seemed much gratified, and expressed a hope that the future
might be according to this beginning. ... I have a delightful
letter from brother Strong, who was always one of my most valued
correspondents, and I am rejoiced to find so many hearts like his
beating so truly towards me."
As Dr. Strong was among those of his friends and brethren who
most deeply and sincerely regretted his removal from Boston to
Auburn, he is now found among the first to bid him a joyful wel
come back. A portion of his letter is transcribed : —
Greenfield, November 22, 1844.
Rev. and dear Brother : I do not know when I have experienced a
sensation of greater delight than when I was told in Philadelphia that you
were to return to Boston, to take the charge of a new parish. And I
intended to write you immediately on my arrival here, congratulating you,
and the Church, and myself on the auspicious occurrence. I have, however,
from illness and other causes, delayed the accomplishment of my design
until now, when I take up my pen for the purpose of welcoming you sincerely,
though late, to your old home and the many pleasant associations of your
former labors. And I do most fervently pray, that your valuable services
may be continued in this portion of the vineyard without interruption or
change, and that you may be as useful and as happy as your friends or
yourself can anticipate. . . . Your friend and brother,
T. STRONG.
With a few brief extracts from his weekly correspondence, relat
ing chiefly to the condition and prospects of his new enterprise, the
record of this eventful year is closed.
December 9, speaking of the new hall : » It advances slowly, but
will be ready, I think, by mid-Lent at farthest. Meanwhile our little
loft is full to overflowing. Yesterday afternoon troops of people
went away for scarcity of room, and many remained standing

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 339
during the whole services. Some sat round the footsteps of the altar.
At present, we have three services a day."
December 16, Wednesday in Ember week : " To-day, in accord
ance with the design of the Church, since public worship I have
endeavored to seclude myself, and keep holy time by devout obser
vance, as I have recommended to my people. We continue to gather
a crowded assemblage, thrice on Sunday, at our chapel, and in this
respect exceed the most sanguine expectations of our friends, and
even my own. . . . Not only in the numbers who come is the
hand of God so good upon us, but in the character of the attendance,
including, as it does, some of the best and most influential minds in
the Church in the city. There is a charm, doubtless, in the very
unpretendingness of the loft, where there is nothing to mar the
influence of our almost inspired service, and nothing is required to
be sacrificed to the artificial distinctions which so generally prevail
in our churches."
December 23 : " Our ecclesiastical affairs continue to be as
auspicious as at the first. . . . This week we have two services
on Christmas day, and a five o'clock service on the other holy days,
which fill up the week. . . . We shall make a sylvan lodge
of our upper room, and it is delightful to get back to a land of
laurel and evergreens."
It is worthy of remark, that the Rev. Dr. Eaton, who had been
for many years the uniform friend and counsellor of the rector, was
one of the first among the clergy of the city to give his sanction to
this new enterprise, by regular attendance on the worship, and by
frequently participating in the services.

1845

On New Year's day, being the Feast of the Circumcision, the
" upper room " was opened for the appropriate services of the day ;
and on this occasion the sacrament of baptism was administered for
the first time in this humble though solemn place. The child bap
tized was a daughter of Dr. Richard H. Salter, a vestryman of
the new parish. And it may be here mentioned, as a most remark
able and affecting circumstance, that the last baptism performed by
the rector, and this on the day of his death, was for another child
of the same parents.
The correspondence of the year opens in great sadness. On
New Year's day he thus writes to his father : " Yesterday we
received from Hartford the distressing intelligence of the sudden

340 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
death of our very dear friend Mrs. Sumner, who expired, as you know,
on Sunday morning ; and I have ever since been in a kind of dismal
dream, from which I rouse to ask myself, Can this indeed be so 1
My first impulse was to take the cars of the afternoon, that I might
look once more upon the face of the truest-hearted friend that God
ever allowed a sinful man like me to rejoice in, and towards whom
my heart has ever turned with a fulness of satisfaction, confidence,
and repose never felt towards any other who was not bound to me
by ties of blood. I do not know that I did right to resist those
impulses ; but it seemed as if my engagements here were of an
imperative kind; and I feel that it is generally a safe rule to do that
whicli costs me the most sacrifice, and such a sacrifice it has been
to me to remain as I am. I have found it very difficult to write
them until to-day. Words seem so inadequate to express our emo
tions, and to be, as it were, a mockery of sorrow. All, too, seems
in this case so unreal. 1 have had, during the last year, many ad
monitions of my own mortality. I have felt how liable we all were
to die ; and as I preached, on Sunday last, of the fading grass and
the withering flower, the fainting heart and the failing flesh, as
contrasted with the enduring nature of the realities revealed in the
gospel, a foreboding shadow of some undefined ill seemed to be hov
ering about me. But how little did I think what that sad day was
bringing forth ! With Mrs. Sumner I had never associated any other
idea than that of the necessity of her continuance among us, as the
wellspring of all domestic comfort and enjoyment, and the centre
of all genial and diffusive hospitality. I was not myself aware,
till now, how much my return to my old position here had been
influenced by the anticipation of often repeating those brief so
journs under that roof, upon which I fondly look back, as among
the dearest of departed joys ; and it was among the causes of
thankfulness, on the completion of the railroad, that it brought us
so much nearer to those doors. Alas ! that upon these innocent
delights also should be inscribed vanity ! "
January 16, with reference to the magnetic telegraph, it will be
perceived that he writes as if it were a thing rather to be desired
than expected : " Should this ever be accomplished, we can whisper
together, from one end of the country to the other, with a sort of
galvanic thrill." In the same letter he speaks thus of his affairs :
" We have passed along into the middle of the winter without being
aware of it ; so mild is the weather, and so pleasant and varied our
occupations. I can say that I never enjoyed existence here so
much as I have since my return from the west. I have access to
some very choice society, which I trust I appreciate, and hope to
benefit by the privilege. Our work goes on very prosperously at
Advent Hall, and we have yet met with no obstacles."
The following passage is cited from a letter of January 21 to show

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 341
how the bishop treated the rector before he saw fit to change his
policy and deportment towards the new parish. Happy, perhaps,
would it have been for both parties had that change never taken
place. " Every thing- is as usual here. The bishop preached to a
fine audience at the Church of the Advent last Sunday evening,
and has kindly requested me to preach one of the Price Lectures."
He dwells, as it is but natural he should, in all his correspondence
of this period, on the condition and prospects of his new pastoral
charge. February 3 he writes, "We are getting on very bravely
in our work here. The Church of the Advent continues to be as
much frequented as ever, and by high and low, rich and poor, one
with another. We endure the reproach of ' Puseyism ' in common
with some of the best names among us ; but that is a small matter,
even if it were deserved. Meanwhile we go quietly on, avoiding
controversies, and desiring to turn neither to the right hand or the
left." He here hints at a subject which had long occupied his
thoughts ; and although he was not spared to accomplish his desire
in full, several devotional productions of his pen are found in these
pages, which were doubtless designed originally for a part of the
series here suggested. " I grow more and more satisfied that the
Church needs, more than any thing else, a body of Hymns adapted
to devotional use, and founded on the order of the Christian year."
February 11 he writes, " We have commenced Lent with five
services per week — three on Sunday, and one on Wednesday and
Friday. I have, however, some exchanges and some assistance, and
could have more if I needed it. On the whole, I do no more than
is good for me, and I only hope it will be as good for others as well."
Among his other duties, he mentions .his daily visits to a poor pris
oner confined in Leverett Street jail, under condemnation of death.
" I spend the best part of an hour with him every morning, and
shall continue to do so, if my health and life are spared. As yet,
none of the brethren have accompanied me ; but I expect brother
Wells will be joined with me in some of my future visits. He is
great in ministering to such exigencies. I, alas ! like Moses, am a
man of uncircumcised lips."
His taste in church architecture was known to be peculiarly
rigid, insomuch that he was thought by some to be rather fastidious
on the subject. Comparing a beautiful church edifice, which had
been erected in the neighboring village of Chelsea at a very moder
ate expense, with what he calls " the ugly abortions which disfigure
the villages all over the land," he remarks, " I should never be
anxious that a rural church should be undertaken in stone ; because,
if of any frailer material, there will be reason to hope that in time
it may be superseded by a severer model, and need not be per
petuated forever."
In a letter dated on the Feast of St. Matthias, addressed to his

342 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
friend Couthouy, congratulating him on the recovery of his little
son, William Croswell, from dangerous sickness, he says, " Read
for your solace, next to the Bible, the last four verses Qf Keble's
Circumcision, — ' Art thou a child of tears,
Cradled in care and woe ? ' —
and tell me where, short of the inspired Psalmist, you can find a
strain more calculated, like the gospel, for soothing rather than ex
citement. Under the influence of this spirit, may my little nam.e-
sake, as well as you and I, and all of us, happily live and happily
die, and be taught to cultivate, as most indispensable to enjoyment,
the habit of reverent submission to the parental authority which
God hath set, first in the household, and then in the Church."
Amid the incessant duties of the Lenten season, he experienced
occasional returns of his old malady, the headache ; but the attacks
were now less frequent and of much shorter duration, and seldom,
as it seems, impeded the current of his labors. Writing, March
11, after suffering from one of these turns, he says, "I officiated,
however, on Sunday, and am now, with the rest of us, thank God,
as well as ever. The duties of the season, of course, grow more
and more absorbing every day, as Easter draws on." Again, on
Easter even, he writes : " Our services at this season have been
very delightful, and the most solemn and impressive Good Friday
solemnities at which I ever was present were those of our upper
room, yesterday. The same feeling was universal. Our altar, as
I remember it was in my youth at New Haven, was in black ; the
music full of pathos, and melted all hearts to tears ; and the ser
mon, as I trust, was in entire unison with the services.
With the help of brother Davenport, we have had two services
every day since the commencement of Passion Week, and we have
preached alternately. Every thing has succeeded beyond my most
sanguine expectations in this new enterprise. Not a single draw
back of any sort, thus far. My Price Lecture, on Wednesday,
seems to have given great satisfaction to all whom I am most
anxious to please. The bishop took some exceptions, but they
were not of much moment." This remark should not be construed
into an expression of disrespect for the bishop's opinions. He prob
ably intended merely to say, that ihe points in the lecture to which
the bishop took exceptions were not, in themselves, of much mo
ment. In his next letter, dated Wednesday after Easter, he gives
a glowing account of the services of that great festival, and speaks
in terms of high gratification of the business transactions of the
parish meeting, of the prosperous state of their financial affairs,
and especially of tile zeal and enthusiasm of the whole congrega-

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 343
tion. He gratefully acknowledges, also, some valuable tokens of
personal attachment, iu the form of Easter gifts, and, among others,
a sum of money from several gentlemen of the parish, for the pur
pose of procuring books for his private use ; and also from the late
Joseph W. Ingraham « a set of the Massachusetts School Library,"
which, he says, " is the largest and most valuable donation of
books which I ever received." He adds, in the same letter, the
following pleasing item of intelligence : " The corner stone of St.
Stephen's Free Chapel was laid on Easter Monday. This is to be
built entirely by one individual, W. Appleton, Esq., and our friend
Wells is the missionary. The scene only increased our longings
for the day when that of the Advent shall be laid."
Having now passed through the labors of the Easter solemnities,
he felt the want of some relaxation, and accordingly projected a
visit with his family to New Haven. He could allow himself,
however, but a short absence, including only a single Sunday.
"The Sunday following," he says, " is Rogation Sunday ; and the
week is full of red-letter days, including Ascension day, on which
we intend to celebrate the holy communion. Then follow the great
festivals of Whitsunday and Trinity, on the last of which we hope
to remove to our second place of worship, with the trust that the
time is not distant when we shall require a better tabernacle and a
permanent dwelling-place. And all the days between, till the con
vention assembles, will be much absorbed in preparing our first
candidates for the holy ordinances of baptism, confirmation, and
communion." After speaking in terms of gratification of the general
and favorable attention drawn to the Church of the Advent, he
adds, " If we had as large a church as there is in the city, there
would be a gathering of the doves to the windows. Our place is
uncomfortably thronged at all the services ; and we have more than
seventy communicants who have spontaneously reported themselves.
Others excuse themselves until there is more room."
As a sort of episode in the current of events, he had the satis
faction, during the month of May, of receiving a visit from his
parents. His mother arrived on the 8th, in company with a friend
and his wife and child, who had prolonged their stay at New Haven
until that time. While he notes many incidents of this visit with evi
dent gratification, he seems to dwell with peculiar pleasure on every
thing which contributed to their mutual religious enjoyment. " When
the day of Pentecost was fully come," he says, " we were, like the
apostles, with one accord, in one place, and mother was with us, in
our upper room, at the breaking of bread, and also at the afternoon
service. Both she and Mrs. B  (her friend) seemed to enjoy our
simple service very much, and to prefer attendance there to the more
costly sanctuaries." In the same letter he says, with reference to the
anticipated visit of his father, " I wish you, by all means, to be here

344 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
on the first Sunday after Trinity, which will be our last day in our
present quarters, whether the new one be ready or not, as I have
no objection to have you see under what circumstances our infancy
has been cradled." Again, he writes on the 20th : " The bishop
of the diocese will be absent next Sunday ; but desired me, with
his best respects, to request you to take his place at Trinity Church
in the morning. ... In the afternoon I shall expect you to
preach the last sermon in our present nestling-place ; and for the
rest, I will release you from any other claims, though I dare say
you will hardly escape without being required to preach a third
time." And so it happened ; the third sermon being preached at
Christ Church in the evening. But, besides these duties, his father
was called to minister in a case of most affecting interest. On
his arrival in Boston, he was requested to visit a lovely little girl,
in whom he had taken a deep interest while she was spending
some months with her grandparents in New Haven. She had been
for some time in declining health, and was now, as she well
understood, rapidly approaching her end. Her young heart clung
to one from whom she had already received much religious instruc
tion ; and, at her own request, the visits were repeated until the
time of her departure. She passed through her change in peace
and holy joy. By the desire of her friends, he performed the last
solemn rites, as well at the dwelling of the parents as at the grave
at Mount Auburn.
On the 15th of May, the hall of the Massachusetts Horticultu
ral Society was dedicated ; and in the printed order of exercises is
found the following " Original Hymn, written expressly for the oc
casion, by Rev. William Croswell : " —
Thou, who hist taught us how to prize
The truths which nature's fragrant maze,
In glories of unnumbered dyes,
To our enraptured sense conveys,
Be with us in this festal hour,
And, while the clouds of incense swim
In homage from each chaliced flower,
Accept, with these, our grateful hymn.
Amid the city's stunning din
Thy mute but radiant power we bless,
That, through its dusty depths, pours in
Such gleams of vernal loveliness ;
That here thy odorous blooms impart,
Above all art or man's device,
A spell to soothe pale Labor's heart,
As with the airs of paradise.

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 345
Nor let the influence rest, till all
The dear delights in Eden nursed,
Recovered from their primal fall,
Like these, shine brightly as at first ;
Till man himself, redeemed from stain,
His heaven-taught work in Christ complete,
And, through one greater Man, regain
An entrance to the blissful seat.
On Sunday, the 1st of June, the congregation of the Church of
the Advent took leave of their upper room in Merrimack Street,
which they had occupied since the first Sunday in Advent, with the
expectation of taking possession of their new hall on the following
Sunday. But in this expectation they were disappointed, as the
following extract from the rector's record will show : " On Sunday,
the 15th of June, A. D. 1845, the place of worship was removed to
the commodious hall, in the chamber of the building forming the
corner of Lowell and Causeway Streets, the rector preaching the
first discourse from the text, Other foundation can no man lay than
that is laid, ivhich is Jesus Christ, 1 Cor. iii. 11." Of this service he
thus speaks in his next letter : "Our hall was opened under very
favorable auspices, and all concerned seemed to be more than sat
isfied. It is a fine room for speaking and singing, and I have never
heard such responses since I have been in Boston." Again, he
writes : " As soon as the other parts of our building are completed,
we have announced our purpose of commencing daily service, and have
every reason to expect a fair attendance of devout worshippers."
There is a melancholy gratification in recording such a passage
as the following, from a letter of June 30 : " Mrs. Prescott (widow
of the late Rev. E. G. Prescott) is now on a visit at Mrs. Car
penter's. It has given me a sad satisfaction to receive from her
the cloak which her husband wore, the gift of his parents, and the
more to know that this was according to his expressed wishes, in a
will written several years before his death. Brotherly and intimate
as our relations had been, I did not know, until since his decease,
with how much truth it could be said of his affection for me, ' Be
hold, how he loved him ! ' May it inspire me more- earnestly to
covet the best gifts, — a portion of his spirit, — and to wrap myself
as it were, with his zeal like a cloak."
From this time, as appears from frequent allusions in his corre
spondence, the affairs of the new parish passed on progressively and
happily. These and other matters will be noted in the order of
their date. July 7, after giving an interesting description of the
celebration of the " glorious fourth," consisting in part of " a floral
44

346 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
procession of little children through the mall," he speaks thus hop-
ingly of an interview with the bishop : " I had a pleasant visit from
the bishop, on the afternoon of the 4th of July, and have never
found him more agreeable. He spoke of meeting with you in New
York, and alluded to you in a way very gratifying for a son to hear.
He thought you had altered but little since he first knew you, during
his connection with the seminary at New Haven. I might say none
for the worse. He introduced no debacable matters, and we agreed
on all points as far as we went. I shall not seek any occasion to
differ from him, and hope that the even tenor of my way may not
be disturbed." The following passage in the same letter is too
characteristic to be omitted : " Yesterday was communion Sunday.
I exchanged, in the afternoon, with the rector of Christ Church, —
baptizing a child, of course, — and afterwards administering the com
munion, in private, to an aged colored Christian on the point of
departure. It was an edifying service, — how could it be other
wise 7 — but the straitness of the quarters in which these wretched
people live, and the train of thirteen who communicated with him,
had almost given the flesh advantage over the spirit."
In a letter of the 14th, he gives the first intimation of a practice
which was subsequently adopted as a general rule — that of em
ploying, in their worship, the prose translation, instead of the met
rical version, of the Psalms : " Yesterday afternoon, I dehvered a
sermon on ' speaking to yourselves in psalms.' I believe that I
carried all my congregation with me, and that the Psalter will be
our psalm book exclusively from henceforward." In the same letter
he again alludes very pleasantly to his relations with the bishop, and
to his favorite subject of a daily service : " The bishop continues to
be very kind and attentive to me personally, and I see no indications
of abatement of confidence in any quarter. Many of the parish are
impatient for the commencement of daily service, but we are obliged
to delay in consequence of the unfinished state of the rooms above
us, in which the sound of the axe and hammer is not yet ceased. I
do not feel much anxiety on the score of the additional labor. I
already spend an hour every day in the vestry, which might be far
more profitably spent in worship ; and the size of the room is such,
and its adaptation to sound so fine, that it will require scarcely
any more vocal effort than in common conversation. Besides all
this, I shall not be alone. The clergy will rally round the standard
as soon as it is set up, and several are already pledged to officiate
regularly, and to stand in the gap when emergencies shall arise. In
the strength of God, we shall try. I am not sure that it will not
be the first attempt to revive the week-day service in this city since
the year 1686, when, at the second meeting of the members of the
Church of England, it was < agreed, that the prayers of the Church
be said every Wednesday and Friday of the year, (for the present

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 347
in the library chamber of the town liouse in Boston,) and in the
summer season to begin at seven of the clock in the morning, and
in the winter season at nine of the clock in the forenoon.' It is,
also, quite as remarkable a coincidence as many others that are
chronicled, that in 1753, while their church* was building, 'the con
gregation requested and obtained leave to meet in Trinity Church
on Sundays, at separate hours from the congregation of that church,
and on festivals and prayer days in Mr. Croswell's meeting house.'
We hope the Church of the Advent will be as famous in the annals
of the town as Mr. Croswell's meeting house, in its associations
with festivals and prayer days."
One other topic is introduced into his correspondence of this
month, which it seems proper to notice, as an act of justice to his
memory. The case of Mr. Washburn's ordination attracted some
attention at the time ; and, in the discussion of the subject in
the church periodicals, he may have been placed, as a member of
the standing committee, in a false position. It is but fair, therefore,
that he should be permitted to tell his own story. Under date of
July 21, he says, "As a member of the standing committee, I have
had my share of excitements. We had a special meeting to see if
we should volunteer any advice to the bishop touching the delay of
Mr. Washburn's ordination at Newburyport, which had been
appointed for Wednesday. The ground was, the use of the prayer
commendatory of a sick person at the point of departure, on the
occasion of General Jackson's death, not a little to the astonishment
of his congregation. His papers had been already signed, and
were in the hands of the bishop, who had received an explanation
so far satisfactory to him as to lead to the appointment for his ordina
tion, and no counsel was asked. I was opposed to any action unless
it should be solicited, or, at least, without any previous conference
with either the bishop or the party involved in the consequence. I
was overruled, however, by the rest of the committee, who passed
a declaration of sentiments, which I thought quite superfluous, at
least, if not questionable. The thing is done, howp- ., and I
wash my hands of it. I fear the effects will be mischievous." On
the 28th, he writes, " You will be curious to hear the issue of affairs
at Newburyport. I am not yet in possession of all the particulars.
But, as might have been foreseen, the parish has been thrown into
prodigious excitement. No less than sixteen clergymen had assem
bled to attend the services. The bishop did not feel willing to pro
ceed with Mr. Washburn's ordination, under the standing com
mittee's interdict ; and the other two candidates, to avoid the invidi
ous aspect of the affair, preferred, as did the bishop, to wait for
* King's Chapel, Boston, which was rebuilt, of stone, in 1753.

348 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
another day. Indeed, at a meeting of the vestry in the morning,
some inflammatory resolutions were passed refusing the use of the
church for the services, unless their minister was ordained. This,
of course, was very irregular and contumacious, but still of signifi-
cancy, as showing the indignant sense entertained of this officious
interference on the part of the standing committee — two of whom
are fortunately, or unfortunately, natives of Newburyport, and have,
perhaps not unjustly, to shoulder most of the responsibility. A
petition has been circulated and signed by almost all the proprietors
of the parish, urging the bishop to make an appointment for the
ordination at an early day."
The following passage will be read with melancholy interest, now
that this burying ground has become the place of the contemplated
rest of his mortal remains : " I was much interested in the account
ofthe exercises at the New Haven burial ground — a spot rendered
dear to my heart by the ashes of kindred, and the cherished place,
D. V. of my own final repose, while the flesh resteth in hope. I
regret that the gateway is to be Egyptian, if it were only because
it does not differ from those which so much annoy me here, with
their pagan symbolism ; but more especially, as ominous of the slight
hold which Christian architecture, as well as Christian association
generally, has upon the public mind. It will have a rare beauty and
interest notwithstanding, and I have the warmest sympathies with the
spirit that has led to this garnishing of the sepulchres of the righteous.
It will be long before the generations expiate the sacrilege towards
the dust of their fathers, who were buried on the upper green."
The first Sunday in August appears to have been a day of some
note in the annals of the new church. This is inferred, not only
because it is mentioned by the rector in his journal and correspond
ence as an occasion of much interest, but is also made the subject
of a paragraph in one of the daily newspapers of the city : —
"Church of the Advent. The Rev. Dr. Eaton, formerly
rector of Christ Church, the Rev. Mr. Croswell, also formerly
rector of the same church, and the Rev. Dr. Jarvis, formerly rector
of St. Paul's Church, and the Rev. Mr. Pollard, of Nantucket, all
officiated together ou Sunday last, (August 3,) at the administration
of the Lord's supper in the new Episcopal Church at the corner of
Lowell Street in this city. The occasion was one of much interest
to the frequenters of that place of worship, and the friends of the
reverend clergymen." — Boston Post.
As the time drew near for the commencement of daily services in
the new chapel, it was perceived that its peculiar location might
present a serious obstacle to the enjoyment of their devotions : " Our

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 349
building," he says, " is not yet quite in order for daily service, and
if it had been, I fear that we should have an insurmountable obstacle
to encounter, in the bustle, and din, and stunning tide of this
thoroughfare, or rather centre of thoroughfares, on which our chapel
borders. A corner stand is grand for business, but very unfortunate
as a retreat for devotion. We might as well stand and pray, like
the Pharisees, at the corners of the streets, as to hope to have our
voices heard over the tumult.''
But, notwithstanding these objections, it was resolved to try the
experiment ; and accordingly, as the record states, " On Monday,
September 1, 1845, the daily service was commenced for the first
time in Boston, the Rev. F. W. I. Pollard, being assistant to the
rector." And, from a letter of the same date, the following particu
lars are gathered: "Yesterday, dear father, I gave notice that 1
purposed, by divine assistance, to offer daily the sacrifice of morning
prayer, at the ancient hour of prayer, being the third hour, or,
according to our present horology, nine o'clock. The announce
ment was simply for the week, that I might not engage myself to
any extent beyond my ability to execute, and that the time might
be changed, or the service discontinued altogether, if it should be
deemed expedient. The morning was bright and auspicious, and
there was an encouraging attendance, considering that the intention
was not generally known. The weather being cool and autumnal,
we were able to shut out the noise more entirely than I dared to
hope, and the interruption was not very serious. At times, the
rumbling of the carts served very well for an accompaniment, though
occasionally, like a heavy organ, it drowned the human voice.
Spiritually, I doubt not, the service will be a great blessing, so long
as we are in earnest, and throw ourselves into the system with
simple boldness, and have faith to follow Christ on a venture. And,
physically, I believe it will be no disadvantage, especially if I can
learn the great lesson of saying prayers instead of preaching them,
or rather if I can unlearn the opposite. I had a tolerable trial of
my strengtli, having had three services yesterday without assistance,
and being also alone this morning. I am not aware that I have
passed a Monday, for many months, with so little sense of fatigue.
The brethren of the city will be ready to assist me whenever I
require it ; and as soon as Mr. Pollard returns from Nantucket, I
can count, I think, upon his accepting a proposal from me to become
my assistant for the next three months. Long may day unto day
continue to utter speech, and may we soon be able to add, that
' night unto night showeth knowledge ' ! "
Writing again on the 9th, and continuing the same subject, he
says, " My expected assistant has not yet arrived from Nantucket ;
and besides being bound every day, not an unwilling victim, to the
horns of the altar, I have had, for the last two Sundays, three ser-

350 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
vices, and all the ordinances. My health, happily, was never better,
and I ascribe the improvement in part to the system. I am per
suaded that the Church, if it is to be built up at all now, must be built
up, as at first it was, with daily prayer, and that those who would see
in open vision the glory and the consolation of Israel, must continue,
like Simeon, and Anna, and the apostles, daily with one accord in
the temple ; and then we may hope that the Lord will add daily to
the Church such as shall be saved." After detailing a long list of
occasional services, and mentioning the constant attendance of the
venerable Dr. Eaton at daily prayer, he continues, " It commenced
silently ; like a little leaven it spreads apace, and the time, as we
fondly anticipate, is not distant when it will pervade the whole lump.
The attendance yesterday was between thirty and forty, and is daily
increasing." From this pleasing theme, he turns to one of peculiar sadness :
" Letters from Mr. Brinley inform me ofthe death of his excellent
and long-suffering daughter Harriet. She has lingered much
longer than could have been expected, and her death did not, of
course, take them by surprise. But this gradual reduction of their
household, till the departed are more in number than the living,
makes each bereavement more sad and the hearts of the survivors
more heavy : — ' Alas for love, if thou wert all,
And nought beyond, O earth ! '
Would that all the invalids whom we have in our hearts could
regard the prospect before them with the unshaken faith and un
clouded hope that illumined her sick chamber. Right dear in the
sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." He adds this touching
reflection : " How sudden the transition ! how thin the partitions be
tween bliss and woe ! On the other side of the way, E  (a cousin
of Miss Brinley) is probably preparing for her nuptials, on the 24th
instant, and the future is full of bright hopes and promises. Happy
indeed if she realizes at last what her deceased cousin enjoys ; for sure
she has entered into bliss, and hears the inexpressive nuptial song."
Having been invited to attend this wedding, he left Boston on
the 23d, was present at the nuptial ceremony on the 24th, and pro
ceeded to New Haven in the evening. Here he met his brother
from Albany, and, after a pleasant visit of a few days, returned to
Hartford, and, on the 30th attended a meeting of the Board of Fel
lows at Trinity College, for organization and business. In a letter
written after this meeting, he speaks of the college as requiring
some new impulse to redeem it from its then unpromising condition.
The following criticism may appear somewhat severe, but its jus
tice will not be called in question : » I was sorry to see such a set
of portraits hanging on the walls of the library. There is not one

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 351
of them but that is verily a caput mortuum, without a particle of
vitality, except Bishop Seabury, which is indeed a live likeness, and
standing out gloriously like the living among the dead."
He returned to Boston on the 1st of October. " Being," he says,
t' the anniversary of my wedding day, I resisted all temptation to
tarry at Hartford, though obliged to spend most of it, like John
Gilpin, on the road. Had I been as great a man as he, I might
have been as anxious to save appearances.
' Said John, it is my wedding day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton,
And I should dine at Ware.' "

In several of his succeeding letters he writes in remarkably good
spirits ; speaks of the health of himself and family as excellent ;
and in all his allusions to the affairs of his parish represents them
as prosperous and encouraging. " The daily service goes on quietly
at the Church of the Advent, through sunshine and storm alike, and
with little deviation in the attendance." Again, after mentioning
a number of adult baptisms, he says, " We have the names of some
twenty candidates for confirmation, and the number will probably
be increased before the bishop's visitation. In addition to one daily
service, we are engaged almost every day with the sick, and are
more exposed to interruptions, in season and out of season, than
ever before. These are, however, among the blessed tokens that
our ministry is not a sinecure, and that we are not without signs of
life and the divine presence."
The confirmation above alluded to was held on the evening of
the Sunday before Advent ; and some account of it is gathered, first
from his letter of November 25, and next from one of the news
papers of the day. " Our place of worship," says the letter, " was
thronged ; the music was delightful ; the congregation manifesting
that engagedness in the worship which is so contagious, and distin
guishes us from any congregation in the city, and seventeen candidates
kneeled around the altar. The office was impressively performed ;
and the bishop delivered an extemporaneous address, which was very
good, though it contained nothing either episcopal or distinctive, of
course, not even the slightest recognition of what was characteristic in
the rite. After all was over, and the congregation had withdrawn, he
proceeded to deal with the rector and his assistant, in the spirit of one
who was about to lay his hands — I had almost said violent hands —
upon an antagonist ; and in a manner neither creditable nor con
vincing. I hope that we shall never be obliged to listen to such a
charge again from any lips ; and I cannot repeat it on paper. I
respectfully, but steadily, repelled his imputations in a way that gives

352 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
me no compunction to reflect upon. ... I have always antici
pated that the simple exhibition of the Church as it is, and a bending
of effort to revive the tone of our public worship, so as ,to give it vi
tality, would, please God, be quite irresistible. And so it has proved.
Since we began the daily service, the attendance has been increasing
constantly, and on the Lord's day we have not a seat to spare. Every
week inquirers are coming to know what they shall do ; and the
Lord is adding daily to the Church such, we trust, as shall be saved.
Meanwhile we need great grace and prudence ; for we have violent
opposition to encounter ; though nothing can harm us, if we do not
harm ourselves. We adhere most tenaciously to the rubric, and we
go together like one man."
The newspaper account of the transaction is in these words : —
" The Church of the Advent. The impressive ordinance
of confirmation was administered by Bisliop Eastburn, on Sunday
evening last, at the Church of the Advent, to seventeen persons.
" We wer,e agreeably surprised both at the number of the can
didates, and the unusual solemnity of the congregation ; and we
could not help considering that the general tone of the arrangements
— the genius of the place — were the indicia of a promising future.
It was a pleasing thing to see the youngest church of the diocese
receive its appointed head with such cordial welcome ; to see its
doors and its aisles thronging with worshippers, and its chancel sur
rounded with those who were about to enroll themselves under the
banner of the Cross. For the first time the bishop knelt at its newly-
raised altar ; for the first time he laid his hands upon its new disci
ples ; for the first time he invoked a blessing upon its sacred walls.
" It must be a satisfaction to this prelate to observe, with the
actual extent of the city, the visible growth of the Church ; and
that, while we live in an age in which the hand of the spoiler is busy
in stripping life of its refinements, and religion of its God-appointed
aids, there yet exists a temple where the spirit of past centuries
may take refuge — an altar whereon it may burn the incense of its
sacrifice. The Churchman must hail the advent of this star in our
religious horizon as the omen of still better things ; and though now
its pure glimmerings are scarce observed amid the light of more
imposing bodies, yet we hope it will continue to shine on with that
steady and mild glory, which can only be obscured by the advent of
the Sun it worships."
These particulars, though sufficiently interesting in themselves,
derive an additional importance from the fact that the scene in the
Church of the Advent, after the confirmation, was indicative of the
bitter and persecuting spirit manifested in the bishop's subsequent
proceedings, and was indeed the incipient step in a series of high-

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 353
handed and oppressive measures, without a parallel in the annals of
the church in this country. But before a detailed account is given
of these measures, it seems proper to place on record the following
paper, left in the handwriting and under the signature of the rector,
and dated but a few days after the transaction, and while all the
circumstances must have been fresh in his memory.
Minutes of the Conversation between the Right Rev. Bishop Eastburn
and the Rev. Messrs. Croswell and Pollard, at ihe Church of
the Advent, in Boston, Sunday evening, November 23, A. D. 1845.
The Right Rev. the Bishop of the diocese visited the Church
of the Advent, by appointment, for the purpose of administering
confirmation, on Sunday evening, November 23, 1845. The rector
and his assistant were in the robing room when the bishop arrived.
The usual civilities were exchanged, and there was no apparent
want of courtesy or good will on the part of the bishop. As Mr.
Pollard was in his cassock, the bishop inquired whether he would
conduct the service. I said that I proposed to have him read the
lesson. To this no objection was made. The bishop then selected
the psalmody, robed himself with my assistance, requested me to
read the preface in the confirmation office, and to direct the can
didates to come forward, but made no inquiry, that I remember,
either as to their number or character, or with reference to the state
ofthe parish. On entering the chancel, the bishop went to the right
end of the holy table, and I offered evening prayer at the other.
The Rev. Mr. Pollard, who was on the same side of the chancel
with myself, — and whose duty it was to read the lesson for the
evening from the lectern, — knelt down during the prayers with his
face towards the corner of the holy table. The chapel was crowded,
and the air was close and oppressive. The interest in the services
was somewhat exciting to me, and, as I supposed at the time, affected
the bishop in the same way. Seventeen candidates were presented,
all of them of mature years ; and all of them were, at the time, or
have since become, communicants. There was no sermon. In the
place of it, the bishop, after the confirmation, returned to the right
of the holy table, and, standing with his back nearly against the
wall, delivered an extemporaneous address. There was a hurry and
agitation of manner which I attributed, at the time, to interest in
the duty before him. An unfortunate transposition of words
occurred, of which he did not seem to be aware, and which it is
painful to record. I refer to his speaking of the Lamb of God who
" washed us from our blood in his own sins." After the congrega
tion had begun to retire, I went over to the side of the chancel,
where the bishop was standing and wiping the perspiration from his
face, and made some allusion to the heat. I said that the room had
45

354 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
been often over-crowded, and that we were suffering for want of a
church. To this he replied by an impatient waving of his hand
towards the windows, as if they should have been further let down.
After the aisles were further cleared, I told the bishop that we could
then get to the robing room at the opposite end, if he wished. He
said that he did not like to expose himself to a change of air until
he was cooler, or something to that effect. Presently he said, with
an abruptness and severity of manner that startled me, " Mr. Pol
lard, what did you say Saint Titus for 1 Why can't you say Titus,
as every body else does 1 " Mr. Pollard said he did not know
but others said as he did. Bishop. " No, sir, never. The apostles
are called saints, and no others. We don't say Saint Mary." This
may not be the precise form of expression, and more was said ; but
this was the idea conveyed. "And why do you kneel in that way,
half a mile off from the table 1 I have spoken to you often
enough about these mummeries, at Nantucket. These things give
pious people great offence." P- " How would you have me kneel;
sir 1 " " Turn to your chair, and kneel there." P. " I do but
conform to the usage of the place." Bishop. " No, you don't ; Mr.
Croswell did not kneel in that way." I then said, " Bishop, Mr.
P. kneels according to our ordinary usage. When a third clergy
man is present, and prefers to take one end of the altar, for symme
try's sake, I generally take the other." The bishop expressed great
surprise, as if he had heard of this for the first time.* " Mr. Cros
well, I am very much surprised at this. I should not have expected
it of you. What is the use and meaning of it ? Why kneel down
half a mile off, and not come up at once to the table 1 I can under
stand why a Romish priest should do so. The host is there. But
what have we on the table to worship 1" I spoke of my conviction
that our method ministered to reverence. Bishop. " I think as much
of reverence as any one, but I abhor superstition ! " I said, " Bishop,
Mrs. Barbauld tells us, that there is a class of persons who have a
superstitious dread of superstition." Without noticing my reply, the
bishop went on in a rapid and disconnected way to allude to the
danger of conformity to Romish usages, — of the consequences of
these innovations in England, — of Mr. Newman's apostasy. I
assured him that I had no more sympathies with Romanism than
himself. He spoke of the English country churches, and King's
Chapel in this city, as in contrast with ours. I observed that our
little hall was hardly to be compared with his own church, or any
others ; but I thought that on comparison with places of worship of
the same size, I knew of none that was better arranged, or where he
* A clergyman of the city has since told me that he had explained by word
and attitude to the bishop, the very night before, in reply to his very par
ticular inquiries, our precise manner of conducting the service, and place and
mode of kneeling.

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 355
himself appeared to better advantage in his ministrations. He
interrupted me to say, that at East Boston, where he had officiated
the Sunday evening previous, I should be astonished to see how easy it
was to give a room, which was merely a long narrow store, a truly
ecclesiastical air. They had there pulpit, desk, and communion
table, although they had far less room than we had. I told him
that I had been much interested in that enterprise, had officiated
there twice, and administered the communion for the first time, but
could not conceal my surprise that he should suggest it as a model ;
that there were three structures in the chancel on the same level,
looking to a stranger like three little red altars ; that the only other
arrangement, like that of the Church of the Messiah, seemed to be a
sort of conference-room desk for prayer and preaching, and a little
shelf projecting as the holy table. The bishop alluded to our use of
the Psalter, in the place of the Psalms in metre, and did not see how I
could reconcile it with the way in which the General Convention
had set forth the latter. I told him, as 1 had told him at a former
interview, that they were permitted, not required to be used, and that,
if we did not choose to avail ourselves of that permission, we were at
liberty to fall back upon the usage of the universal church. He said
that, upon this principle, he did not see why we might not use Watts, or
the Rippon Collection. I told him that I thought not, as I was not
aware that these had ever been in use by the Holy Church Universal.
I said that I thought I could show him an expression of opinion from
Bishop Griswold, which did not differ greatly from mine. He re
plied, " Well, when the House of Bishops expresses an opinion, it will
be time enough to use it as authority," or language conveying some
such impression. The bishop called attention to our large cross,
candlesticks, shelf, &c, as indicative of affinities with Rome. " If
an Irishman were to come in here," said he, " and see that cross, he
would kneel down to it at once, in the aisle. He would think that
he was in a Roman Catholic chapel. It looks like one." I said that
I thought, without the "Roman," his remark was true. "It cer
tainly did look like a Catholic Chapel." The bishop said, in the
course of his remarks, " that practices like these had brought the
parish in Nantucket to ruin." When we withdrew to the vestry,
Mr. Pollard, who had maintained silence since the opening of the
conversation, said, " Sir, you have charged that I brought the parish in
Nantucket to ruin. I protest against such a statement. I refer to the
statistics ofthe parish, in the journals ofthe convention, to show that it
was spiritually flourishing during the whole period of my ministry."
" Statistics," the bishop said, " were not always to be relied upon."
" The debt of the church," said Mr. Pollard, " was not incurred
by me. I had no responsibility for it." I observed, that it was gen
erally known that Mr. Marcus had involved the parish in its pecu
niary embarrassment long before Mr. Pollard's connection with

356 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
it. The bishop said that, " the great obstacle to the payment of
these debts was the dissatisfaction in the diocese with the proceed
ings of Mr. Pollard, — that Mr. Jenks was well satisfied of this
now." Mr. Pollard observed, that he must then have changed his
opinion very much within a short time. The bishop then being
ready to leave, I was unwilling to part with him thus, on an occasion
from which I had anticipated so much satisfaction. I said, " Bishop,
I thank you for your services this evening, which have afforded us
great gratification." To this he responded, as we shook hands, —
but with some hesitation, — " Well, I hope God will prosper you."
This was the substance of our conversation on that evening,
when our joy was suddenly turned into heaviness. I do not pre
tend to exactness, but as I am enabled to recall it, after the interval
which has since occurred. Portions of it are indelibly impressed
on my mind, never to be obliterated. Other parts are less distinctly
remembered. The bishop's remarks were desultory and uncon
nected, and made apparently under strong excitemeut ; and I was
much agitated and disturbed at the time. I trust that I have noth
ing extenuated, or set down aught in malice. I have requested Mr.
Pollard to write out a statement this day, independently of mine,
that by the mouth of two witnesses every word may be established.
There were other bystanders whom I could name, who heard the
opening of the conversation, and observed the manner of the bishop.
W. CROSWELL.
P. S. Having understood that it had been currently reported
that the bishop had, before this visit, given me admonition with
reference to our attitudes and arrangements at the Church of the
Advent, I take this opportunity of correcting this impression. I had
never heard from the bishop one word, directly or indirectly, on
any of the matters alluded to in his pastoral letter to the clergy. It
is true, that on one occasion he had spoken to me about wearing
the surplice in preaching, and the use of the Psalter. He appeared,
however, to be satisfied with my reasons for not changing my dress,
and, indeed, said that he was disposed to lay little stress upon it.*
I stated, at that time, my objection to the use of the Selections of
Psalms set forth in 1832. The bishop told me, that if I did not
like to use that selection, I was at liberty to use the version previ
ously set forth, and which was still retained in his own parish,
(Trinity Church.) But I humbly question whether there be any
warrant whatever for the practice, and whether the last metre version
does not supersede all the preceding ones. On this subject, the
bishop's request at parting was, that I would consult with my vestry,
* The bishop preached himself in the surplice from the desk, every Friday
during the last season of Lent.

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 357
which I did accordingly ; and he was careful to premise that I was
not to regard what he then said as an official expression of opinion.
This is the only time that the bishop ever exchanged a word with
me on the subject in question. W. CROSWELL, Rector.
This first step having been taken, the bishop now seemed ready
to pursue the rector of the Church of the Advent in a manner cal
culated, at least, if not designed, to effect the ruin of his reputation
and influence as a Christian minister. Accordingly, the following
extraordinary paper appeared in the bishop's official organ, the Chris
tian Witness, of the 5th of December, and, being issued in large
numbers, was circulated throughout the country : —
To the Clergy of the Diocese of Massachusetts.
Reverend and dear Brethren : A deep sense of the responsibility
attached to my office, as the chief pastor of this portion of our
common fold, has constrained me to address you on a subject, in re
gard to which I would fain, if duty would have permitted, have re
mained silent.
It is already known to you, that, towards the close of the last
year, a parish was incorporated in the north-western part of this city,
under the name ofthe Church ofthe Advent. Its commencement af
forded me sincere pleasure ; and having been begun with the avowed
intention, on the part of the respectable persons engaged in it, of es
tablishing a church with free sittings, I commended it to the liberal
aid of the Episcopalians of Boston. On the evening of Sunday, the
23d of last month, according to previous appointment, I visited the
temporary place of worship of this parish, for the purpose of ad
ministering the apostolic rite of confirmation ; and there observed,
to my inexpressible grief and pain, various offensive innovations
upon the ancient usage of our church. In the form of the com
munion table ; in the decorations of golden candlesticks, and of a
large wooden cross, by which it is surmounted ; and in the postures
used in front of it by the assistant minister, who, as I learned from
the rector, was only conforming to the constant practice of the latter
on all occasions except the service of that evening, I perceived,
with sorrow, superstitious puerilities of the same description with
those which already, in the case of another parish church of this
diocese, had called forth a public expression of disapprobation, first
from my revered predecessor, now resting from his labors, and sub
sequently from myself in the address to the convention of 1844.
I feel, my reverend brethren, that I should be guilty of a dere
liction of plain duty, were I not to express, in this public manner,
my utter and unqualified condemnation of these practices, carried
on in the principal city of the diocese, and under my own immediate

358 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
eye. Were these novelties nothing more than childish, they would
be on that account sufficiently objectionable to call forth my censure ;
for it certainly must be a fit subject of rebuke, that there should be
found a disposition among any of the clergy to abandon, in their
mode of conducting divine service, that masculine simplicity and
dignity by which our beloved and venerable Church, both here and
in England, has been so long and so justly distinguished. But chiefly
do I condemn these innovations upon established custom, because
of their pointed and offensive resemblance to the usages of that idol
atrous papal communion against which our Prayer Book so strongly
protests ; and because, where a communion table is fitted up like a
Romish altar, and certain postures are Used by the clergy indicative
of reverence towards that altar, the certain effect of such a specta
cle is, to produce gradually among the congregation those very cor
ruptions in regard to the sacrament of the Lord's supper from which,
by the good providence of God, we have been so graciously deliv
ered. Those who are familiarized, by the officiating minister, with
the forms of error, will fall, by an imperceptible but sure process,
into error itself; and thus our people will be led, by the very ser
vices in which they engage while actually within the bosom of our
own Protestant Church, into doctrinal departures of the most griev
ous and vital character. And, in addition to these considerations, 1
will not dissemble the pain which such practices give me on another
account — namely, the ridicule and contempt to which they expose
the Church of our affections from all sensible and enlightened per
sons of other Christian bodies.
In view of the dangers above stated, and considering this sub
ject as far from being a mere matter of taste and fancy, about which
men may safely differ, I have already privately remonstrated against
the novelties adopted in the Church of the Advent, and have ex
pressed my views, as opportunity offered, to various individuals. But
knowing that this mode of signifying disapprobation must, of neces
sity, be limited in the extent to which it reaches, and fearing lest my
supposed silence should, in any part of this diocese, be construed
into acquiescence in things which I condemn, and which I regard as
pregnant with evil, I embrace the present method of letting my sen
timents be more widely known.
It is a pleasure to me to feel well assured, that with the usages
referred to, and with the unsound and unchurch-like theology to
which they belong, a great majority of the clergy over whom God
has given me the oversight have no sympathy. But others are con
stantly entering our ranks, and may need, especially the younger
of them, to be warned against the imitation of such examples.
Whether the course adopted in the parish referred to will be con
tinued or not, it is beyond my ability to conjecture ; but, however this
may bo. I shall have the satisfaction of feeling that I am clear of

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 359
the responsibility of being a silent spectator of irregularities, de
grading to the character of our Church, and perilous to the souls
of our people.
That your hearts' desire, my reverend brethren, in your high
and holy calling, may be to set forth the unsearchable riches of
Christ to a world lying in sin and death, is the prayer of
Your affectionate diocesan,
MANTON eastburn.
Boston, December 2, 1845.
This publication, as miglit have been expected, produced the most
intense excitement, not only in Boston and vicinity, but in every
place where the paper had been sent. The wardens and vestry of the
Church of the Advent immediately assembled, and expressed their
deep sense of the wrong which had been thus inflicted on their rec
tor and the church in the following preamble and resolutions: —
At a meeting of the wardens and vestry of the Church of the Advent,
held December 5, 1845, tlie following preamble and resolutions were
unanimously adopted : —
Whereas there appeared, in the Christian Witness of Decem
ber 5, a letter from the right reverend the bishop of this diocese, in
which the arrangements made by us for divine service in our chapel
and the mode of conducting it are severely censured and denounced
to the public as " offensive," " superstitious," aud " degrading to the
character of our Church and perilous to the souls of our people," we
have thought it our duty to give the subject matter of the letter a
respectful consideration, although it is addressed neither to us nor
to our rector, and our attention has never been officially called to it.
And although no request or representation has been made to us by
our bishop on this subject, and we are not called upon to take
any action or express any determination thereupon, yet it may be
expedient to record our reasons for what we have done, and our
feelings as to the same : therefore, by the wardens and vestry of
the parish of the Advent, it is unanimously
Resolved, That it is with surprise and regret we learn that our
bishop has thought proper to denounce, in this public manner, the
arrangements of our chapel, and the conduct of worship there, and
especially that he has done so without having addressed to us any
communication upon the subject, or having called our attention to it,
either as a body or as individuals.
Resolved, That we have carefully considered so much of this
letter as touches upon our province and duties, to wit, the furniture
and arrangements of the chapel, and do not find any thing there al
luded to by our bishop, except the communion table, the cross, and

360 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
the candlesticks, by which the chancel is lighted in the evening ; and
that, as to these, we can see no just cause of complaint.
Resolved, That, in placing a single cross in the window of the
chancel behind the altar, we believe we have introduced no " offen
sive innovations upon the ancient usage of our Church," but have the
example of a multitude of churches in England, and an increasing
number in our own country. That it is hardly for us to enter upon
the defence of a usage so ancient, sacred, and continuous.
Resolved, That in the matter of the communion table, or altar,
we can see no cause for censure, or even for scrupulous doubt. It
is a simple movable table, of pine wood, standing upon four legs,
occupying the usual place, covered with a plain crimson cloth, having
no resemblance to the altars used in Roman Catholic churches, and
differing in no respect from those in general use among us, unless it
be in having a small shelf on the side next the wall, which we sup
pose is immaterial, as it is believed that the same may be seen in
some other churches, where it has remained without objection. In
fact, so far is this, in our opinion, from tending to superstitious prac
tices, that we have thought it might rather be liable to the objection
of being too much like the table of common household furniture,
to meet the requirements of the holy table and altar, which the
Prayer Book teaches us to consider it.
Resolved, That as candles have never been burned in our chapel,
except during service at night, for the purpose of lighting the chan
cel, (as on the occasion of the confirmation referred to in the letter,)
we presume the bishop's objection can only be to the use of the
candlesticks upon the altar instead of some other mode of lighting
the chancel. That when the chapel was furnished, we deliberately
considered the different modes of lighting the chancel, and were
unanimously of opinion that candlesticks were more appropriate
than the modern fashions of gas fixtures or globe lamps, as being
more scriptural and ecclesiastical, more significant, more consonant
with the feelings of a worshipper, and less liable to mixed and sec
ular associations. That we are informed that, on this point, we
have the support of an existing rubric and a not unfrequent practice
of the Church of England, and the example of churches in this
country and this diocese, where candlesticks have been used in this
way for years, without objection or remark. That we have recon
sidered this subject since the letter has appeared, and cannot but
believe that the substitution of either of the other modes of lighting
the chancel for the four candlesticks now in use would be repulsive
to the feelings of the congregation, and aiding in the deplorable in
troduction of novel, secular, and uncanonical decorations into sacred
places. Resolved, That although the position our minister may be led
to take, when engaged in an act of worship, is not within our super-

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT 361
intendence, yet we cannot but record our regret at the manner in
which the letter speaks on that subject. That the custom has been
uniform, from the first opening of our chapel, for the minister, in the
devotional parts of the service, to turn his face towards the holy table,
whether kneeling at its side or more in front, and that we have never
known any other " postures used " in these services than that of sim
ple kneeling, as required by the rubric. That this mode is congen
ial with our own feelings and sense of the proprieties of public
worship. That we know it to be grateful to the worshippers at the
chapel. That, so far from giving offence, we have found that not
only the stated worshippers, but strangers, whether of the Church
or.of other religious bodies, have frequently expressed their sense of
its fitness and solemnity. That it is of material aid, as we believe,
in abstracting the mind and centring it upon the divine worship.
That although it is not for us to decide upon rubrics intended for
the direction of the clergy, yet we may say, that we understand
them to be constructed upon the supposition that the minister will
face in the same way with the people when engaged with them in the
same acts of devotion ; " turning towards the people " when he ad
dresses himself to them, as in reading Holy Scripture, the sermon,
and the like. That, as our congregation has become habituated and
attached to this mode of worship, (some of them having thus first
learned the Church,) we should feel regret at having it abandoned,
independently of its general propriety.
Resolved, That, taking a general view of this subject, we believe,
and have frequently heard it said, that the arrangements of the
chapel are simple and consistent ; and we know that the mode of
conducting the worship has called forth an interest and engagedness
in the service on the part of the congregation which is most encour
aging to both priest and people.
Resolved, That inasmuch as our bishop, in his letter, has publicly
spoken of the practices of our rector as " superstitious," and " pue
rile," and has charged him with » exposing the church to ridicule and
contempt," and " degrading its character and perilling the souls of
the people," we cannot but record, with deference, but decidedly, our
convictions to the contrary, and our solemn protest against the man
ner of this condemnation. We cannot express our sense of his
many excellences, of the untiring and self-sacrificing efforts he daily
makes for the good of his people and the poor of the neighborhood,
of his dignity and simplicity in conducting divine service, and our
obligations to him for his solemn and affecting instructions. That
his labors have met with great success in building up the parish,
and, we believe, in the spiritual growth and comfort of many that
are under his charge. That we cordially sympathize with him in
the efforts he is making, by the daily service, the observance of holy
days, a regular offertory, the use of free sittings, the introduction of
46

362 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [184o
simple and ancient music, visitations of the poor and sick, and fre
quent celebration of the sacraments, ordinances, and offices, to do
his part towards presenting the Church in its entireness before this
community. Resolved, That the assistant minister, of whom the letter speaks,
has, as we believe, conformed to the usages of the parish and to the
wishes of the rector, and has won the respect and affection of all by
his patient endurance, his self-denial, his constant labors, especially
among the poor, sick, and afflicted, and his single-minded devotion
to the duties of his holy office.
Resolved, That when we consider the character, age, and services
of our rector, and that most of the officers of the parish are personally
known to the bishop, we are the more surprised at the appearing of
this letter, as well as at its tone. That we regret it the more, as it
places us, unexpectedly and unwillingly, in the attitude of a pubhc
defence against our ecclesiastical head in the diocese.
Resolved, That the clerk procure a copy of the " Christian Wit
ness " referred to, and place it on the files of the parish ; that these
resolutions be entered in full upon the records ; that a copy of the
same be transmitted to the bishop ; and that they be sent to the
" Christian Witness " for publication.
R. H. DANA, )
C. P. GORDON, \ Wardens-
THERON METCALF,
THOMAS D. MORRIS,
ALEXANDER WOOD,
R. M. COPELAND,
R. H. DANA, Jr., y Vestrymen.
W. E. COALE,
R. H. SALTER,
THEODORE METCALF,
C. R. BOND,
The rector also addressed the following letter to his diocesan : —
To the Right Reverend Manton Eastburn, D. D.,
Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts.
Reverend Father in God: I received through the post office this
afternoon a copy ofthe " Christian Witness " of December 5, contain
ing the following circular : [Here follows the letter, as at page 357.]
I am fain to believe that many of my clerical brethren in that
mystical body, whose members suffer one with another, will feel
hardly less deeply hurt and aggrieved than myself, both by the man
ner and matter of the foregoing official communication. As one who
truly loves the brotherhood with whom he has been so long and so
intimately identified, and who has ever desired to carry himself

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 353
dutifully towards his bishop, according to the vows of his ordination,
I cannot affect to conceal the distress which it has given me ; nor
will you wonder that I should be most anxious to rescue myself,
before the Church, from the fearful charge of having introduced
imong the " flock of God, of which the Holy Ghost hath made me
overseer," " irregularities, degrading to the character ofthe Church,
and perilous to the souls of our people." On such a charge, the
canons require that every clergyman should be presented, tried, and
convicted, before the bishop is authorized to pronounce sentence.
As I have been condemned, in this case, without the formalities of a
hearing, I see not what is left me but to present, with a brief state
ment of the case, my earnest but humble protest against a proceed
ing so severe, and, as I am inclined to believe, in our branch of the
Church, so entirely unprecedented.
I send ycu, also, at the request ofthe wardens and vestry, a copy
of a series 01* resolutions unanimously adopted by them, at a meet
ing held on the evening of the 5th instant, in which your letter
receives a careful and respectful consideration.
Having passed the first eleven years of my ministry in this city,
as rector of one of the oldest churches, I need not speak for myself
of my manner of life during that period. I left, in 1840, to take
charge of a parish in the diocese of Western New York, not only
without censure or reproach, but with a voluntary testimonial of
affection and confidence, signed by the bishop and every one of our
clergy resident at that time in Boston, Newton, and Lowell. In
transferring my canonical relations, your truly " revered predecessor,
now resting from his labors," wrote to Bishop De Lancey the fol
lowing dimissory letter, a copy of which I have happily preserved : —
Dear Sir: The object of this is to transfer from the State of Massachu
setts to your diocese the Rev. William Croswell. Merely to say that,
for three years last past, he has not been justly liable to evil report, for error
in doctrine, or viciousness of life, though eminently true, seems in his case
very unnecessary. He will leave behind him no clergyman more highly,
more justly, or more generally esteemed for those qualities whicli constitute
and adorn the gentleman, the scholar, and the faithful minister of Christ.
While, with many hundreds of others, I deeply regret his loss to this diocese,
I may well congratulate you on such an accession to yours. That in his
new situation he may find friends as numerous and as cordial as those he
leaves, is the prayer of Your friend and brother, A. V. GRISWOLD.

The prayer of the aged and beloved bishop was answered, in my
new residence, beyond my expectations and deserts. Of this, how
ever, it is foreign to my present purpose to say more. I would
gladly have said less. But, though unconscious of the slight
est change in the principles and views with which I entered the

364 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
ministry, or of deserving, in any respect, to forfeit the confidence of
those who are set over us in the Lord, yet a glance at the heinous
imputations against me, in your circular, painfully convinces me,
that a testimonial, from such a quarter, of my "freedom from any
just liability to evil report," however " eminently true," may not
seem so " very unnecessary."
Suffice it to say, that I joyfully embraced an opportunity which
offered, just a twelvemonth since, to return to this city of my affec
tions ; and accepted, with your sanction and approbation, reverend
father in God, the rectorship of the newly-organized Church of the
Advent. I found a band of zealous and intelligent laity ready and
willing to cooperate with me. We commenced, under every disad
vantage, in a humble and obscure " upper room." It was my
" heart's desire," in accordance with the closing aspiration in your
circular, "in my high and holy calling to set forth the unsearchable
riches of Christ to a world lying in sin and death." Next to this, in
building up a new parish from the beginning, it was our unanimous
wish to carry out, as strictly as possible, the intentions of the Church,
as they are expressed in the Prayer Book. With these two objects
steadily in view, I have been willing to labor in season and out of
season, and from house to house. As in the primitive days of the
gospel, by the divine blessing, the word of God has grown mightily
and prevailed. We removed to our present chapel, which, though
very convenient, is not large enough for the accommodation of our
people. The Lord is still pleased to add daily to the Church such
as, we trust, shall be saved. The number of communicants has
increased to more than a hundred ; thirty persons have been bap
tized, of whom nine have been adults; and several others are pre
paring themselves for the same " washing of regeneration."
I ascribe, reverend father in God, the blessing which has thus far
crowned our efforts chiefly to the simple and constant exhibition of
our church, as a church "instant in prayer," and by seeking to
stir up all that is within us to make the most of our privileges, and
thus exhibit the service, not as a mere formality, but a free-will
offering of the heart and understanding. To inspire the feeling of
earnestness and reverence in others, we have sought to be earnest
and reverent ourselves. We have knelt devoutly before and with
our people, " towards God's most holy place," as our new version
of the Psalms expresses it, that they also might learn to kneel after
our example. The effect has been all that we hoped for. The
flame has spread from heart to heart. The cold silence and wan
dering looks, the carelessness and apathy, vvhich are subjects of
complaint in so many places of worship, have disappeared before it.
Many, who have come without religious sympathy, we have reason to
know have been joined together with us in a new bond of Christian
union. I venture to say, that the expression of " ridicule and con-

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 365
tempt," to which you allude, has not been known among us ; though
doubtless some who "came to scoff" have "remained to pray."
The establishment of the daily service has, according to our fond
anticipations, eminently contributed to the same happy result. It
was commenced on the 1st of September last, and has been since
continued without intermission. To meet the demands of this ser
vice, in addition to our many other duties, I secured the assistance
of a brother beloved, a native of this city, not without your being
apprised that it was in contemplation, whom I had known and
esteemed, from the first beginnings of his ministry at Lynn, for his
self-sacrificing fidelity, and his patient endurance of hardness as a
good soldier of Christ Jesus. While I heartily respond to the terms
in which he is noticed in the resolutions of the vestry, it is proper for
me \o add, that whatever censures you have thought fit, thus pub
licly, to cast upon the arrangements or mode of worship in our
chapel, no part of them should fall upon him. The responsibility
rests with myself and the vestry. He has simply conformed to our
usages and my wishes, and has neither suggested nor practised any
variations therefrom.
I need not say, reverend father in God, that your visitation to our
parish had been looked for with much interest. The crowd of
worshippers on that occasion, the simple but inspiring music, "the
hearty and athletic responses, the sympathy of sacred sounds, the
collective strength of prayer," the devout and reverential demeanor
ofthe congregation, the number and respectability ofthe candidates
for confirmation, (all persons of mature years,) and your own
unusually glowing and fervid address, — made us feel that it was,
indeed, good to be there ; and we could not but regard these as
grateful evidences that God was with us of a truth, and had signally
blessed our efforts to revive the tone of public worship from the cold
and lifeless state, the want of vitality and engagedness, into vvhich
it has so confessedly fallen among us. I need not say that I was
greatly disappointed to find that your feelings, at that moment,
were so entirely different from mine.
In the hasty and impulsive, not to say excited, remarks which
fell from you, while my mind was yet filled with the impressive and
solemn services in which we had just united, — and even before you
left the chancel, — I did not recognize any thing like a formal or
deliberate, much less authoritative, judgment in the matters to which
you alluded. The style of rebuke, addressed to my assistant, was
such as I never had the pain to hear from any bishop before. It
was administered, not on account of his kneeling in front of the holy
table, as one might be led to suppose from your letter, vvhich he did
not do, (although it is every where done without blame, whenever
three clergymen are in the chancel,) but on account of his not turn
ing his back upon it, and facing his chair — a position which, as I

366 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
had at the time no knowledge of your preferences, would have made
him liable to reproof from me. You afforded the wardens and vestry,
on that occasion, no opportunity to confer with you, although they
waited long at the entrance of the church to do so ; nor has any
communication, whether official or otherwise, since been made to
us collectively or individually. I could not but expect, that if, upon
reflection, in that very brief interval which occurred between your
visitation and the publication of your letter, you should conclude
these matters to be of sufficient gravity for episcopal correction, you
would, at least by official communication of something like a private
character with the rector, wardens, and vestry, have designated the
new mode of worship which you wished to have introduced into our
chapel. As you state that, during that time, you " expressed your
views as opportunity offered to various individuals " other than our
selves, so might you have had opportunity of ascertaining, at least,
whether the result of such a communication with us would or would
not have prevented any supposed necessity of " utterly and unquali
fiedly condemning " a clergyman and his vestry in this public man
ner. It might, at least, have left you without occasion for the some
what remarkable admission, in regard to a parish " under your own
immediate eye," that " whether the course adopted there will be
continued or not, it is beyoud my ability to conjecture." If, how
ever, in the exercise of your discretion, it seemed more proper,
before thus communicating with the parties most interested, as a
spiritual father with his children in the faith, to call the attention of
all my clerical brethren to my alleged delinquencies, I cannot but
regret that you should have preferred, to all other obvious modes
of doing so, that of publication in the columns of a newspaper; thus
seeming to expose our common mother, the Church, to the gain
saying ofthe world.
Since the publication of your letter, I have carefully examined it,
again and again, to ascertain precisely the grounds on which your
charges and condemnation are founded ; and can discover nothing
but what relates to the arrangement of the chancel, and the posture
of the officiating ministers in prayer. These topics — the chancel,
holy table, candlesticks, cross, and attitude — are so satisfactorily
treated in the accompanying resolutions, that further comment
might seem to be unnecessary. It may be expected, however, that
I should give my own opinions, without reserve, on all these subjects,
in their order.
In the arrangements of our chancel, with reference to the size of
our chapel, the utmost simplicity consistent with the decency and
dignity of public worship was intended ; and I am not aware that
it contains a superfluous article. A communion table of the plainest
description, and vvhich has nothing to recommend it but its fair pro
portions and its decent covering — the gift of an individual ; four

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 3(57
candlesticks, on a shelf immediately above the holy table, to light
the chancel at evening ; two narrow and high-backed chairs,
imported at an early day, as I am informed, by our Pilgrim fathers,
for the use of a Puritan parsonage; and a lectern, — as entirely
simple and unadorned as a common music stand, — from which the
word of God is read and also preached to the people. Above the
table, in the window, is the cross, the symbol, of all others, which
we delight to make most conspicuous. These constitute all the
furniture of the chancel ; and I doubt whether there is another in the
city which contains less of what can be dispensed with, or that is
reasonably or unreasonably offensive.
For the evidence, in detail, that our communion table is not fitted
up like a Roman Catholic altar, I refer to the resolution of the
vestry on that point. Their views on this subject correspond with
my own, so far as I can judge by description, not having seen the
interior of a Roman Catholic place of worship for many years, and
having very indistinct impressions with regard to it. But, though
the holy table in our churches bears no resemblance to a Roman
Catholic altar, reverend father in God, is there no sense, I appeal
to you, in which the members of our Church may say, with the
blessed apostle, " we have an altar," as well as priest and sacrifice 1
On this subject, the views of the Right Rev. Dr. Henshaw, Bishop
of Rhode Island, are essentially, I presume, your own, as well as
mine and those of most of the clergy ; or, if not, they will not, I
am sure, be denounced as a part of that " unsound and unchurch-like
theology " with which the faithful are to have no sympathy.
" What," says he, in his lecture on " the true construction of the
terms altar, priest, and sacrifice," which has been published in many
forms, and with which you are doubtless familiar, — " what is an
altar ? In its simple idea, it is something upon which, or at which, an
offering is sacredly made to God. It is a common mistake to suppose
that an altar necessarily implies that the offerings presented upon it
must be bloody or animal sacrifices. There is nothing, however, in
the term itself, or in its use among all nations, to justify this exclu
sive interpretation. From a very early period of the Christian
Church, the holy table, where the common praises and prayers
were offered up, and where the Lord's supper — the highest act of
Christian devotion — was celebrated, was called an altar. This
appellation has been common in every succeeding age ; and we are
very familiar with this application of it in our own. Other denomi
nations of Christians, no less than the Church, speak of their altar,
where they celebrate the most affecting services of their religion,
and invite persons to approach and surround it, in the expectation
that God will meet with and bless them there. This word occurs
but once in our Prayer Book — in the institution office ; but, as there
applied, we know that it indicates what is called ' the Lord's table,'

368 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
and the « holy table,' in other parts of the book. No one mistakes
our meaning when the word is so used ; all know that we mean
the place where the sacred mysteries of our religion are celebrated,
and our most solemn offerings of devotion presented to God." " We
have no wish to mystify what is plain ; but, on the contrary, to
relieve the minds of humble Christians from perplexity, by explain
ing language which the Church has seen fit to employ, and teaching
them not to be alarmed when things are called by tlieir right names."
If, then, reverend father in God, we of this church have, in this
sense, or any sense, an altar, why should it be a subject of " utter
and unqualified condemnation " that it looks so very like an altar ?
In the matter of the " golden candlesticks," I will only add, to
what has been said in the resolutions of the vestry, that, so far from
being an offensive innovation upon the ancient usage of our Church,
these ornaments are in strict accordance with the existing English
rubric. Dr. Wheatly — whose "Rational Illustration of the Book
of Common Prayer " is commended as a text book, by the House
of Bishops, to the " careful study " of every candidate for holy or
ders — states expressly that "two lights were, by the injunctions of
King Edward VI., and by the Act of Uniformity, passed after the
reformation, to be set upon the altar." " And these lights, used
time out of mind in the Church, are still continued in most, if not all,
cathedral and collegiate churches and chapels, so often as divine service
is performed by candlelight ; and ought also to be, by this rubric, used
in all parish churches and chapels at the same time." This usage, there
fore, is directly inherited by us from our martyr reformers. With
regard to contemporaneous practice in the mother country, it is suf
ficient to say, that the Bishop of London observes, in a late charge, " I
see no objection to candles on the communion table, provided that
they are not burning, except when the church is lighted for evening
service." If it were worth while, in a matter of so little importance,
to look for authority in our own diocese and city, it might be stated,
that in Christ Church, — the only one of our older churches that
was ever opened for worship at night, — previous to the alterations
in the year 1830, lights were burning upon the holy table as often
as they were needed at the evening service.
With regard to " the cross," I cannot bring myself to say one
word in answer to your objection. I am happy to confess, that I
am " childish and puerile " enough to love and rejoice to have that
precious symbol presented to the eye in all holy places — " of all
symbols the most speaking and most touching ; proclaiming Christ
crucified ; the alpha and omega of the Church's existence." Neither
the size, nor the fact that it is " wooden " as well as " large," can
in any way affect the feeling or the principle, though they may help
to give it character and significancy. I hand it over to " the sensible
and enlightened persons of other Christian bodies," who are referred

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 369
to in the note, and who do not forget, in the sign, the thing signi
fied.* This objection is the more remarkable, because there is not
one of our churches in the city wliich is not as open to censure on
similar grounds. To begin with Trinity Church or Cathedral, the
chancel of vvhich has been arranged and highly decorated since your
incumbency, if not under your supervision. We miss the cross, in
deed, but the mitre is not excluded. There is the descent of the
Mystic Dove, the tables of the law which came by Moses, radiant
with glory ; the prayer of our Lord, and the creed of the Holy
Catholic Church ; to say nothing of the monumental emblems and
the likeness of " the living dead " graved on the tablet erected, un
der the sanction of the convention, to the memory of your meek
and saint-like predecessor. For the same reason that 1 rejoice to
see these, I should more rejoice to see the cross of our Lord Jesus
Christ. Christ Church has always abounded in imagery, painted
and carved, of every description, and in every direction ; and there
are few among us who have not interesting aud affecting associations
connected with its beautifully-curtained altar piece of the last supper,
with its golden chalice ; the descent of the Holy Spirit ; and the
rays over the chancel, in the midst of which is disclosed the ineffa
ble name. Over the holy table, in St. Paul's, is a painting of the
transfiguration, direct from Rome. At Grace Church, a cross in
bold relief, on the shaft of the baptismal font, intercepts the eye
between the porch and the altar. In the chapel of the Church of
the Messiah, there is a cross over the holy table. Trinity Hall is
arranged much like ours, in what you regard its objectionable fea
tures ; and at St. James's Church, in Roxbury, a cross is conspicu
ous among the decorations of the chancel window. In this respect,

* The late Dr. Adam Clarice, a burning and shining light of the Methodist
connection, who will not be suspected of any leaning towards Romanism, tells
us that, in passing through a graveyard, he was struck with the appearance of
graves ornamented with crosses and garlands as tokens of affectionate regard,
" A frozen-hearted formalist," says he, " may condemn this, and call it super
stition ; true religion and pure affection would give it a far different name. I
felt and could have wept with the disconsolate parents and survivors, and kissed
the crosses by which the meritorious death of our blessed Savior was thus held
out to public view, as the only foundation of the survivor's hope, that death,
the last enemy, should be finally destroyed, and that those hearts knit together
here in pure and honest love should be reunited in eternity, where bonds can
no more be broken, and death can never enter." — Life, 2d edition, 1841, p. 289.
Dr. Grant, a missionary of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign
Missions, tells us, in his travels among the Nestorian Christians, that he was
guided by one of the bishops to a plain stone cross which lay upon the altar,
supposing that he would manifest his devotional feelings, after their own cus
tom, by pressing it to his lips. " There is something," says he, " very affecting
in this simple outward expression, as practised by the Nestorians, who mingle
with it none of the image worship or the other corrupt observances of the Ro
man Catholic church. May it not be that the abuse of such symbols, by the
votaries of the Roman see, has carried us Protestants to the other extreme,
¦when we utterly condemn the simple memento of the cross ? "
47

370 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
reverend father in God, are not all the members of our communion,
yourself included, yea, and all our fathers before us, and even the
original continental Protestant reformers, included in the selfsame
condemnation ? The Lutherans have retained the cross in theii
churches ; and if we, who follow their example in this respect, are
justly stigmatized as Popish, then, as the learned author of "No
Union with Rome " remarks, were Luther and Melancthon them
selves eminently Papistical.
The only other subject of censure to which you have alluded re
lates to the position of the clergymen in the devotional parts of
the service ; by which I understand you to refer to our kneeling
with our faces towards the holy table. To nothing else can the
equivocal expression, the " postures used," which I regret to see in
your letter, be applicable. We use no other " posture " in prayer
than that of kneeling towards the altar ; and this is no other pos
ture than that which every reverential worshipper is taught to
assume in his devotions in the house of God, and which every mem
ber of our communion adopts, when he is invited to draw near in
faith to the holy table, and to make his humble confession to Al
mighty God, devoutly kneeling. Indeed, it is impossible to conceive
how any one is to pray at the holy table, without turning his face
towards it ; or why that posture should be stigmatized as " super
stitious," when used within the chancel, which is adopted, as a
matter of course, by every one without it. I have had experience
of its happy effects on my own mind, in aiding reverential feeling,
collectedness, and abstraction of thought, and freedom in prayer,
as the countenance was relieved from the constraint of a gazing
congregation. Indeed, I must confess that I can see no distinction,
in principle, between facing the altar at its corner, as was done by
my assistant on the evening to which you refer, and facing it at its
side, as was done by yourself on that occasion.
True it is, that we have endeavored to observe the distinction
which was made by the compilers of our liturgy between the daily
morning prayer and the ante-communion office. This has been
done in accordance with the directions of our best ritualists, with
regard to the " place of reading prayers and the position of the
minister." " From what has been brought together," says Rob
ertson, in his masterly and dispassionate work entitled " How shall
we conform to the Liturgy 1 " " we may conclude that the rubric was
originally understood to fix the chancel as ordinarily the place in which
the service should be read. In some cases, perhaps, it was said at
the holy table ; but it seems to have been more generally said in a
lower part of the chancel, where the priest's stall was constructed.
The stricter Churchmen turned eastward, (i. e., towards the altar,)
which position, as well as the place of service, the Puritans vehe
mently objected to." Would it were the Puritans only who seem

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 371
to object to it now, when those who desire to be accounted among
" the stricter Churchmen " turn in the same direction. On this subject
great diversity of opinion and practice has prevailed, and been tol
erated in different portions of the Church. One of our bishops,
some years since, complained that the holy table was frequently
"placed so low as hardly to be seen, unless it is looked for," and
recommended the abolition of the reading desk, on the ground of
its manifest uselessness, and the gain effected in additional room.
Another has expressed a wish to abolish both desk and pulpit, con
fining the devotional part of the service to the proper place, — the
altar, — and using the movable Bible stand from which the lessons
are read for the sermon, homily, or exhortation. This was our
preference in arranging our present place of worship ; and the ser
vice is thus exhibited, in open view, in all its simplicity, beauty, and
integrity, as designed, we think, by the framers of our ritual, and
as the early Christians, without doubt, beheld it, antecedent to the
days of Popery.
In adopting these authorized and edifying practices and those
arrangements which insure the least display, and without which
suitable room for our chancel could not be obtained, we cannot
perceive that we have given any ground for the charge of intro
ducing " irregularities degrading to the character of our Church,
and perilous to the souls of our people." We do but stand fast in
that liberty wherewith Christ and the Church have made us free.
Uniting upon the broad platform of the ancient creeds, and cleaving
steadfastly to the established formularies of the Church, and abiding
by its prescribed practices, we claim the same latitude, in mere
matters of opinion, which we freely accord to others. The peace
of the Church is only to be preserved by such mutual concessions
as are required by an observance of the three great rules for main
taining catholic concord — " In essentials, unity ; in non-essentials,
liberty ; in all things, charity." If the practices which form the
subject of your letter fall under the second head, as we have sup
posed, then the " liberty " has little to recommend it, which can only
be exercised under the penalty of official denunciation. If, how
ever, it is not in these, but in " essentials," that, in your judgment,
our usages are irregular, degrading, and perilous, then the canons
prescribe the proper and obvious remedy for the offence. While
the wise and prudent provisions of the Church in this respect are
intended to serve as a guide to her bishops in " so ministering dis
cipline that they forget not mercy," they are intended no less as a
protection to the inferior clergy against condemnation without trial
and without conviction. Waiving entirely the indignity offered to me
as a man, therefore, I feel that I have just cause to complain, as one
of the presbytery, that the protection which the Church has thus
provided for that body has been by this precedent rendered of none

372 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
effect. It is hard, indeed, to conceive how any " irregularity " can
possibly be more " degrading to the character of our Church," or
more to be deprecated in these days of disquietude, rebuke, and
blasphemy, than the virtual " degradation " of the clergy in the
eyes of their people by methods alike unknown to the system of
the Church and to the laws of any well-ordered government.
Reverend father in God, you will perceive the regret expressed
in the resolutions of the wardens and vestry of our parish that
they find themselves forced into a position of defence towards one
with whom they had endeavored to hold different relations. If
these are the sentiments of the laity of my charge, how much more
sensibly must I be affected by them ! Those who know me will
bear me witness, — and if I know myself, their witness is true, —
that I would have endured much evil speaking, rather than be
compelled, as I have been, by a public condemnation, to a public
defence. But all the relations that I sustain in this life — and I do
not deem it too solemn to add, towards the life to come — seemed
to call upon me not to be silent under your accusations. You have
taken occasion, through the public press, to hold me up as a pres
byter who has been unfaithful to his vows, who has not hesitated to
sacrifice to an inclination towards idolatrous usages and to supersti
tious puerilities the character of the Church and the souls of our
people. If charges of this description were true, there would be
little question whether I were worthy to be a Christian minister,
since 1 should hardly be a Christian man. This were indeed to
" be toward the flock of Christ" not " a shepherd," but " a wolf."
" This is not a vain thing for me," therefore, reverend father in
God, " because it is my life." Nurtured from childhood in the
strictest principles of the Church by a venerable parent whose long
and consistent ministry has made his " hoary head a crown of
glory " in the sight of the whole Church ; rooted and grounded in
the distinctive principles of the faith, not by " Union Questions "
of all denominations, but by such little books as his own " Rudi
ments of the Church " and " The Young Churchman's Guide ; "
honored in being a catechumen of Bishop De Lancey, during a
portion of his academic life at New Haven ; instructed in theology at
the feet of Bishop Brownell, at Trinity College, Hartford ; receiv
ing authority at his hands to minister in holy things as a deacon ;
and admitted by Bishop Griswold to the priesthood, as one of those
who had " used the office of a deacon well, and had purchased to him
self a good degree," — I claim that my training, as a " Hebrew of the
Hebrews," ought to be above the shadow of suspicion. Having thus
been " taught according to the perfect manner of the law of the
fathers," I continue to this day in the things that I then learned
and have been assured of, knowing of whom I learned them. I
have let my eyelids look right on, and mine eyes look straight

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 373
before me, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left, and de
siring no other or more excellent way than those good " old paths "
in which they had hitherto led me, and in which they had found,
with myriads of the redeemed before them, true rest unto their
souls. From the time that I was appointed " to stand in the house
of God and to minister at his holy altar," — and I am now no
novice, — each succeeding year has brought the increasing convic
tion, that " in proportion as we imbibe the spirit of our noble army
of martyrs and reformers, as exhibited in the liturgy and ordinal,
the more effectually we shall preach the true gospel of Christ and
insure the divine blessing on our labors." It has been my heart's
desire ever to do thus. I have honestly endeavored, according to
the grace given unto me, and in the plain, unsophisticated sense of
my ordination vow, " to give my faithful diligence so to minister
the doctrine and sacraments and the discipline of Christ as the
Lord hath commanded and this Church hath received the same."
When it pleased the great Head of the Church, reverend father
in God, to cast my lot in this new field, where the laborers are not
sufficient for the harvest, it pleased him also to inspire the hearts
of the respectable and intelligent laity of our parish with more than
common zeal in this holy work. Their names and standing in this
community are a guaranty that it was not " a zeal not according to
knowledge." They know — and there is One who knows better
than any of us — that I have determined from the first, the Lord
being my helper, to know nothing among them save Jesus Christ
and him crucified ; and that I have longed to be a means, in his
hands, of bringing many of them to glory. They know that I have
labored earnestly for the peace and purity of the Church ; that I
have not only " studied to be quiet," myself, but " to set forth quiet
ness, peace, and love among all Christian people." They know
that I have thrown myself, to use the words of a dear Christian
brother, " fearlessly, trustfully, and dutifully on the system of the
Prayer Book, in its whole form and spirit, keeping back from the
people no portion of the heritage to which they are entitled, and
giving them the full benefit of all the means which are provided to
enable them to ' grow in grace,' and to make their ' calling and
election sure.' " They know, as those only who have tried it cau
know, that " the more faithfully they discharge the duties which the
Church enjoins, and the more minutely they comply with her various
requirements, the more rapidly they grow. in admiration of her prac
tical system, and perceive her wonderful capacity to satisfy all the
yearnings of the human heart." They know, also, that these well-
meant efforts have been appreciated far beyond our most sanguine
expectations ; and that " high and low, rich and poor, one with an
other," have resorted to our humble services, as to " the shadow of a
rock in a weary land." In the midst of this state of things, and

374 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
with these prospects, " it is not an open enemy that has done us this
dishonor; but it is thou, my guide ! " However unhappy the con
sequences may be elsewhere, I am sure, among those who know me,
of their continued confidence, and their lively sympathy and prayers.
But with all these supports, and the testimony of a good conscience
besides, still it is the sorest of all trials to our sinful nature " to do
well and to suffer for it, and to take it patiently." That grace is
only to be acquired by the discipline of the cross. Looking to that
cross as our only hope, I bow my knees to Him who loved the
Church and gave himself for it, that this severe affliction may be
overruled for good ; that we may take up our cross daily, and bear
and endure it, rather than talk about it ; and exercise the lessons of
forgiveness which it teaches towards those by whom we are wounded
in the liouse of our friends. In this spirit I would also entreat your
forgiveness, reverend father in God, as well as that of our great
Head in heaven, if I have unawares exceeded the bounds of a due
earnestness ; if it is I, indeed, who have been, unconsciously, the
" troubler of Israel," or if it is I who, by any form of error, in
word or deed, have caused to offend one of the little ones that believe
in Christ !
I remain, reverend father in God,
Yours, in " the holy office of priesthood,"
W. CROSWELL.
Boston, December 6, 1845.
These three documents, being published together in pamphlet
form, were thrown into general circulation ; and such was the de
mand for them, that edition after edition was called for, until the
whole issue amounted to several thousands.
In addition to the preparation of this public appeal, the rector
found time to keep his father apprised, through his private corre
spondence, of every thing that was passing around him. December
10, he writes, " I ought to have written you many days since, in or
der to relieve the anxiety which my silence, I fear, must occasion,
and to explain the nature of our unhappy relations with the bishop.
Since the issuing of his letter, however, I have been much engaged
in preparing a respectful remonstrance, founded on a statement of
the case, and in which I have the best advisers and counsel ; and
this has so engrossed me, that I have not the time, nor have I had
the heart, to disturb you. We shall issue our publication this week,
and it will make you, I trust, neither ashamed of your son, nor
abate a jot of your trust and confidence in his fidelity to the ordina
tion vows assumed in dear old Trinity, at New Haven. Let not
your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. The Lord is on our
side, and we have favor with the people. Of the conduct of our
diocesan, it is not necessary or becoming that I should here express

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 375
myself; but I wish you could see some of our friends, and hear the
expressions that reach us from every quarter. ... As soon as
this is off my mind, I will write more fully. Next week I hope to
attend the meeting of the Board of Fellows, at Hartford, on Tues
day ; and, in that case, shall give you the balance of the week at
New Haven. In the mean time, keep quiet, and also keep up a good
heart, as also do we. I have seldom seen our people more exhila
rated. There is another view, however, to be taken — the conse
quences to the Church ; and this makes it, whatever the issue to
us, a sore trial. Pray for us." In his next, December 15, he an
nounces his intention of visiting Hartford and New Haven, and ac
knowledges the receipt of his father's letter, which, he says, " is a
great gratification to me. It corresponds exactly with what I hear
from every quarter." After his return, which was greeted by his
friends with great cordiality, he again writes, giving an account of
the great number of letters which were pouring in from all directions ;
and adds, " I could not have anticipated such a burst of enthusiasm ;
but it shows with what warmth the catholic members of the Church
draw towards each other, and how lively the flow of circulation is
through its great heart. Already our second edition, like the first, of
a thousand have been scattered in every direction, and is exhausted.
Another edition of two thousand more will be ready to-morrow, to
supply the demand here and abroad." Lastly, on December 30, he
writes, " Messages still continue to come to us from all quarters of
the land ; and our notoriety, if not our fame, seems to ring from side
to side. Our four thousand copies are nearly exhausted. Appleton,
of New York, has ordered a thousand, to meet the demand in that
region. He writes to one of our vestry, that he endeavored to pre
vail with the editor of the Protestant Churchman to publish it ; but
he says he cannot, though it seems he does not scruple, according to
your account, to make his comments upon it. Until yester
day, I have not happened to meet Bishop Eastburn. In going
through Summer Street we passed each other, saluting with great
civility as we continued each on his way in opposite directions. I
do not know how agreeable it might have been to him ; but it dis
turbed me but little."
During the excitement of this occasion it was but natural that the
press, both religious and secular, should become more or less involved
in the controversy. The bishop's organ in Boston having sounded
the keynote, all the religious periodicals of the party caught up the
tune, and, as in duty bound, undertook the defence and justification
of the bishop ; while, through the medium of anonymous pamphlets
and the secular press, many attempts were made to divert public at
tention from the real merits of the case. But none of them were
suffered to affect the rector of the Advent and his friends. They
had more than sufficient to satisfy them, in the full, abundant, and

376 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
cheering testimonials of approbation already alluded to. It would
be highly gratifying to copy some of these testimonials at large, and
to select portions of all. But a few extracts only can be given.
Some of these were written under strong excitement, immediately
after the appearance of the bishop's circular in the Witness, aud be
fore the reply of the rector had been issued, and may now be passed
over. The first extract is from the letter of a layman of high stand
ing and respectability in a neighboring diocese : —
" The extraordinary course of your bishop has excited, so far as
I hear, a common feeling of disgust and reprobation ; while your
reply, in its whole spirit and manner, is regarded as such as the
occasion demanded, and worthy alike of your sacred office, the rights
of your church, and the feelings of an injured man. . . . Cir
cumstances have unfortunately placed Bishop Eastburn in a position
that enables him to inflict wounds upon the Episcopal faith and char
acter ; and he has availed himself of its opportunities to an extent,
and in a manner, beyond the worst hopes of its enemies. It is very
desirable that the facts, as they are, should be known, — for,
wherever they are not known, they will scarcely escape misrepresen
tation, — and that the circular, with your letter, and the resolutions
of the wardens and vestry of the Church of the Advent, should be
widely circulated. We desire many copies for our uses here and, for
different parts of the diocese. . . . And now, well beloved, go
forward in the strength of your position, and doubt not in the favor
of the great Head of the Church. This intended rebuke, as grievous
and wounding to a sensitive mind as it is derogatory to the Christian
character and the teachings of Episcopacy, — nay, unworthy of our
common humanity and the conventional rules of social life, — will,
if there is a spark of the old spirit unextinguished in the ancient
commonwealth, recoil upon its author with great and just severity.
In a true church, and among a free people, such arrogance and
unfairness of arraignment and condemnation — an accusation so
lofty in its equivocal generalities and yet so ' puerile ' and ground
less in itself — may swell the tide of worshippers at the Church of the
Advent, but must finally limit the followers of a heartless and arro
gant bishop to such as prefer the mitre, rather than the cross, as the
symbol of their faith. . . . If we cannot imitate your noble
devotion to your faith and its duties, and your example of a blame
less, elevated, zealous, but unpretending Christian life, we can admire
these qualities, and give you, all of us, our sympathies and our
prayers." The next in order of date is from a venerable presbyter of his
own diocese — a clergyman of gentle spirit, but of great firmness
and decision of character : —
" I am truly thankful to you for your kind letter, as well as for
the pamphlet. I was a little uncertain as to the course which you

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 377
might think proper to take in regard to that extraordinary commu
nication of the bishop, although I vvas perfectly satisfied that what
ever you might do in the premises would be just what the occa
sion required. I am delighted with the manner in which you have
treated the subject — calm, dignified, and consistent with your char
acter, as a man and minister of God's holy Church, and, at the same
time, conclusive in argument and forcible in appeal. It was, indeed,
a matter of surprise to me that the bishop, whom I wish to honor
and esteem, should so far have mistaken his duty by giving way to
excited feelings as to endeavor, by ' indirect means,' to throw odium
upon one of the most worthy of his presbyters, and to place under
the ban of ecclesiastical censure a parish that deserves only encour
agement and praise. But in these days of ' rebuke and blasphemy,'
of selfish purposes and party organizations, we ought not to be
astonished at any thing. It is enough to know that we must suffer
as well as labor ; and from whatever source our trials may proceed,
there is great comfort and satisfaction in the belief that He ' whose
we are, and whom we serve,' will guide us by his grace and defend
us by his power. The spirit with which you have written is an
assurance to your friends that you are rightly armed in the cause
of truth and righteousness, and that no enemy will be permitted to
have the advantage over you. I trust that, under the protection of
Him who walks in the midst of his ' golden candlesticks,' you will
go on in prosperity, ' in nothing terrified ' by adversaries from with
out or within ; and that neither prejudice nor misrepresentation will
disturb your peace or interfere with your usefulness."
The next extracts are cited from the letters of two presbyters of
the diocese of New York — both of whom are of high standing in
the Church, are somewhat advanced in age, and have ever been
ranked among the most conservative of their brethren: —
The first says, "I have just received and read your reply to
Bishop Eastburn. I have not time now to write at length ; but I
cannot allow a moment to pass without thanking you for the copy
I received, and assuring you that my whole heart goes with it.
Under almost any circumstances that I could have conceived of, my
feelings would have been very strongly in favor of passive submission.
These are days in which we need the strongest examples of defer
ence to those who sit in the seat of the apostles. But considering
the state of the public mind, and the nature of this wretched appeal
to popular passion and prejudice, I declare I could not see how you
could, in duty to the Church or to yourself, refrain from uplifting
your ' testimony.' . . . May God guide aud prosper you, and
turn this trial altogether into good."
The other writes more at length : " I vvas not only ' deeply hurt
and aggrieved ' at the unworthy treatment you have recently met
with, but more indignant, I fear, than your meek nature would
48

378 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1845.
permit you to be. As to what course you would pursue I felt uncer
tain ; but I knew that it would be wise, Christian-spirited, and gen
tlemanly. It is all this and more, if more could be expressed.
Nothing could have been better, more appropriate, or, as I should
suppose, more effective. I cannot see a point in statement, argu
ment, or expression that could be altered with improvement. I
received the letter last evening, and have read it, with the resolutions
of the vestry, several times. The resolutions are admirable. God
be praised that you have such a body of laity about you. I see in
this movement a step in advance for sound Church principles
and practices, not only with you, but throughout the Church in our
hemisphere. This, if done in a corner, will resound throughout
the land. Be of good courage, therefore, and our shame and mor
tification at such an Episcopal ebullition (for we must all feel this
sentiment far more than we do exultation at your triumphant vindi
cation) will be turned into thankfulness to Him who makes the wrath
of men to praise him."
The following warm-hearted salutation is from an ardent young
brother in a more distant diocese : —
" May you have a good deliverance ! You have done well in the
stand you have taken ; and kept such temper under the provocation
as, I am sure, few of us could command."
The opinions expressed in the following extracts are those of a
presbyter of another diocese, who, from his own showing, must
have written with calm deliberation, and without personal or party
prejudice : —
" I have read Bishop Eastburn's letter to the clergy of his dio
cese, and feel confident that the impression which it was adapted to
produce on some minds must be unjust and injurious. It was with
great satisfaction, therefore, that I read your letter to the bishop in
your own defence. As you know, I have not the pleasure of a per
sonal acquaintance with you, and consequently am not influenced
by partiality in the opinions which I have formed on the case. I
may say further, that there is nothing peculiar, either in the arrange
ments of the church in which I officiate as rector, nor in my mode
of conducting the service. Nay, I am rather averse to some things
which you and your wardens and vestry approve. But I must say
that I think your treatment by Bishop Eastburn was unjust, unkind,
injudicious, and uncalled for, and adapted to disturb the peace of
the Church. I cannot admire, approve, or envy, either the matter,
the manner, or the tone of the bishop's letter. Even if his motives
and his feelings were pure, and had he felt constrained by duty to
use his legitimate influence and his canonical authority to secure an
alteration, his letter was precipitate, unfeeling, and unworthy of
your ' right reverend father in God.' It was, therefore, with great
satisfaction that I read your manly and masterly defence. I see

1845.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 379
nothing in matter, manner, or spirit to condemn, but much to admire
and approve. I most sincerely sympathize with you, and trust that
God will give you grace and strength to maintain yourself in the
liberty wherewith Christ and the Church have made you free, and
to preserve the Christian temper which pervades your letter. I
rejoice that you have wardens and vestrymen able and willing, under
God, to sustain you in the midst of your trials. My approval and
sympathy are of small moment to a man of your principles and
position ; but to gratify my own feelings, and do an act of simple
justice to a distant brother, I have written these lines."
This, also, is from a presbyter of a distant diocese : —
" I received to-day through the post office a copy of your letter
to the bishop of Massachusetts, occasioned by his letter to the clergy.
I seize my pen, in the first place, to thank you for it. In
the second place, I beg to assure you of my sympathy under what
I cannot but look upon as a most unkind and wanton attack. If I
may judge from this distance, and knowing nothing except from your
letter, about the matter, it seems to me that the manner in which the
bishop makes his onset will counteract itself, and shield you. His
sharp and bitter and overstrong expressions strike me as wholly out
of place and uncalled for. ... I am much pleased with the
tone and spirit of your letter. ' Studying to be quiet,' may we all
be so, trusting that He who bore the cross for us will enable us to
bear it after him."
Many other letters from clergymen of age and Christian experi
ence — some of whom have since been called to their reward —
express similar sentiments ; conveyed, indeed, in many instances, in
language of strong indignation against the oppressor ; while, in every
case, the course pursued by the rector and his vestry is entirely and
cordially approved.
It is needless to say how much his father was moved by this un
warrantable assault upon the reputation of a beloved son. He saw,
on one hand, an assailant, buoyed up by official power and influence ;
on the other a humble subordinate, with nothing but his Christian
integrity and faith in God to sustain the shock. Still, with such
" fearful odds " against his son, he could not doubt the result. With
an honest parental pride, he saw with what prudence, and judgment,
and Christian grace the young soldier of the cross interposed the
shield of truth against the shafts of one who, without cause, had
made himself an adversary. Contributing, therefore, as far as pos
sible, by his counsel and encouragement, to fortify and sustain him
in the conflict, he cheerfully and in good faith committed his cause
to God.
It has been said already that the scene in the Church of the
Advent, after the confirmation, was an incipient step on the part of
the bishop, in a series of measures, hostile to the interests of the

380 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
parish and its rector. That there is no mistake in this assertion,
will be roved by the succeeding narrative. It will be perceived
that there vvas uo relaxation in the policy of the bishop towards the
Church of the Advent, nor in his harsh and tyrannical treatment of
the rector, until death closed the labors, the cares, and the trials of
this faithful servant of Christ, and left the bishop to reflect on the
wrongs that he had inflicted on an unoffending laborer in the vine
yard over which God had given him the stewardship.

1846.

An incident very soon occurred which sufficiently shows that no
wrong has been done to the bishop in imputing to him a settled
hostility to the Church of the Advent. On Sunday, the 18tji of
January, a young clergyman, who was visiting his parents in Boston,
had officiated in the morning at the Church of the Advent. But
having accepted an invitation from the Rev. Mr. Watson, assistant
minister of Trinity Church, to preach for him in the afternoon, he
accordingly repaired thither for the purpose of fulfilling his engage
ment. " The bishop," says the letter which relates the incident,
"had been apprised of it, and assented to the arrangement. He re
ceived Mr.  very pleasantly, inquired after his father, and, while
he was preparing to put on his robes, asked what he had been doing
with himself in the morning.  replied that he had been offi
ciating. Bishop. ' Where 1 ' Reply. ' For the Rev. Mr. Cros
well.' Bishop. ' Then I must tell you that you cannot preach
here. After the course vvhich I have taken with regard to the Church
of the Advent, I cannot allow you, with any consistency, to go into
this pulpit.' He repeated the same idea in various ways, to which
 , with his characteristic meekness, simply replied, ' that he vvas
not aware that it involved any inconsistency.' But the bishop ended
the conversation with the remark, that he must be the judge of that ;
and our young friend took his hat and went to St. Paul's. His fa
ther and friends (who had come to Trinity Church to hear him)
were sitting without, waiting for him to make his appearance ; and
had no idea, until the service vvas over, what had been the matter.
. . . The clergy who have heard of it are very indignant, and
regard it as a wanton and unprovoked insult. . . . Everybody
inquires, as if we had not yet reached the ' ne plus ultra,' What
will come next 1 or whose turn will it be ? . . . His father called
on the bishop for explanation, but got no satisfaction. He said, more
over, that he should make it a rule for the future to deal in the
same way with those who preached at the Advent."

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 381
In carrying out these designs, the bishop had a subservient press
to flatter and encourage him ; and while the party papers were thus
ministering to his pride and self-complacency, they were notoriously
unscrupulous in their mode of assault upon the Church of the Ad
vent. Proposing to send a copy of one of these papers to his father,
he says, " I will send it, that you may see how far the force of party
malignity can go, and how bent these men are on their own destruc
tion. Every paragraph of this description sends new recruits to
the Church of the Advent, and in the end will be overruled to great
good." Such, indeed, proved to be the fact. Their place of wor
ship was uniformly well filled, and sometimes crowded, and much
ardor and enthusiasm prevailed. " Nothing has transpired," he says,
" of public concern, since Mr.  's affair ; but there is no saying
what unaccountable thing the bishop may take it in his head to do
next." Speaking of some proposed exchanges, he says, " The
clergy, some of them, manifest an anxiety to be known as hav
ing officiated at the Advent, notwithstanding the bishop's injunc
tion." The following is the substance of a letter of January 21, addressed
to the agent of the Protestant Episcopal Sunday School Union, and
will sufficiently explain itself: " In reply to your favor of the 17th,
enclosing the request of the executive committee of the Protestant
Episcopal Sunday School Union that I would undertake the revisaL
of their Sunday School psalms and hymns, I hasten to say that I feel
a deep interest in this portion of their work ; but that my impression
is most decided, that it would be much easier to make a good collec
tion de novo than to attempt to amend the old one. I have long had
the idea in my mind of what such a book should be, but have done
little or nothing towards realizing it, and the materials within my
reach are of the scantiest description. Still I have little doubt that
I could secure the assistance of Messrs.  ,  , and other of
our own poets, and by making what we could not find, — and com
posing only where we could not better compile, — something could
be easily arranged, whicli would harmonize with the spirit of our
services and the order of the Christian year, and be ' taking,' as
the phrase is, not only with children, but with all childlike hearts.
I should be unwilling, however, to engage in it without having placed
at my command some of the choice collections of verse of this de
scription, original and translated, vvhich have been issued within a
few years in our motherland, casual specimens of which, floating
in some of our periodicals, have charmed me with their exquisite
simplicity, and their true, church-like tone. I should expect the
committee to furnish me with these to a reasonable extent. The
rest would be a labor of love. If the committee think proper to
engage me on these terms, I am ready to commence at once.

382 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
One thing I would suggest further ; and that is, that I have no de
sire that it should appear in any more pretending form than that of
the selection which you sent me, and indeed should be anxious that
its purchase should be within the means of the poorest child among
us. I have no sympathy with the disposition vvhich has been mani
fested, of late, to get up children's books in an ambitious and extrav
agant style ; and would discourage it by example and precept, so far
as it lay in my power. It has occurred to me, as I write, that it
would correspond with the purposes for which it would be con
structed, and not be an unpoetical conception to call it The Children
in the Temple ; and-to admit nothing within it that might not be
kindred in its spirit with their Hosanna to the Son of David ! " In
transmitting a copy of this letter to his father, he says, " I think it
more important to do this work well than at first might seem ; be
cause it may have an important influence on that revolution in our
metre psalmody, as a portion of public worship, which every cath
olic heart must sigh for." In a subsequent letter, he informs his fa
ther that the executive committee had authorized him to proceed
with his work, in all respects, according to his own suggestions ;
" and," he says, " I do but wait the arrival of a package of the
books which they are collecting for me, to commence the arrange
ment of the hymns for the ' Children in the Temple.' " Having
learned, however, that Keble had at this time in the course of pub-
.lication a new book on a similar plan, but entirely original, and
having also received from the executive committee some further
suggestions with regard to a larger collection of church poetry, he
seems to have suspended the prosecution of his plan ; and, so far as
can be discovered, he never found time to carry it into execution. It
is certain that no such work was issued from the press of the union ;
and nothing can be found, beyond a few samples among his loose
papers, to show that he ever made any considerable progress in the
undertaking. The following hymns were not probably designed to form any part
of this collection. Though without date, they were evidently writ
ten at an earlier period. They are inserted here merely to show
his facility in accommodating poetical numbers to the capacities of
the juvenile mind.

HYMN FOR THE INFANT SCHOOL OF CHRIST CHURCH,
BOSTON.

Though steep and narrow is the way,
And perilous each stair,
How many little feet to-day
Have safely clambered there !

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 383
And thus, whate'er life's trials be,
Still upward may they press,
Till with their angels they shall see
God's face in righteousness.
Here be faith's ladder fixed secure
Whereon their souls may rise,
And make, through Christ, their entrance sure
To mansions in the skies.
And on that day when last are first,
And heaven's high gates draw near,
O, be it theirs to hear the burst
Of welcome, " Come up here ! "

A SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN.
The sparrow finds a house.
The little bird a nest ;
Deep in thy dwelling, Lord, they come,
And fold their young to rest.
And shall we be afraid
Our little ones to bring
Within thine ancient altar's shade,
And underneath thy wing ?
There guard them as thine eye,
There keep them without spot,
That when the spoiler passeth by
Destruction touch them not.
There nerve their souls with might,
There nurse them with thy love,
There plume them for their final flight
To blessedness above.

At this time, when daily prayer was offered both morning and
evening at the Advent, and when his pastoral duties were unusually
engrossing, he was still enabled, by divine assistance, to dismiss all
disturbing and vexatious thoughts, and to tune his heart and his
harp to strains of sweet sympathy and condolence. He had heard
of the deep affliction of the friend and companion of his youth,
Henry Edward Peck, who had been his schoolfellow and his
classmate in college, with whom he had ever cherished the most
close and intimate relations, and with whom he had stood, as the
friend of the bridegroom, at his marriage. This friend had been

384 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
bereaved of his eldest child, a son of great promise, who, at the
age of fifteen, was just entering upon his course of" collegiate edu
cation. Writing to his father, he says, " I grieve to hear of the
calamity that has overtaken our dear friends in the death of their
first born. I will endeavor to send them words of comfort, and
remember them in my prayers." The following lines show how
well this resolution was fulfilled : —

AD AMICUM.
Friend of my early youth,
Whom each succeeding year,
Disclosing depths of love and truth,
Has made to me more dear.
The spell at length is burst
That kept me dumb so long,
And at my heart, as at the first,
Old friendship's pulse is strong.
The scales fall from our eyes,
Nor darkly now we see
How youngest hearts may realize
That life is vanity.
How valueless now seem
Its passing smiles and tears !
Like dreams remembered in a dream
Its imagery appears.
O, lovely was the sight,
When last I saw thy son,
And hailed the promise with delight
With which his youth begun.
It brought to mind the days
Of our own golden age,
Ere yet we took the separate ways
Of manhood's pilgrimage.
As in that fairyland
Through vvhich we trod when boys,
Pursuing ever, hand in hand,
Our studies and our joys,
We saw him pressing o'er
The selfsame pleasant road
Where we had passed so long before
To learning's high abode.

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 385
But ah, how soon the train
Of visions melts like foam !
We search for that sweet face in vain
In thy afflicted home.
How hast thou borne the blow
By which the wreck was made ?
And tears that in such anguish flow,
How shall their course be stayed ?
I, that did once rejoice
To be the bridegroom's friend,
Till I can cheer thee with my voice,
Some soothing strain would send.
But who but God can dry
The fountains of your grief?
And when the merry hearted sigh,
Who else can give relief?
O, in this dark eclipse,
Though all be gloom beneath,
Methinks I hear some angel lips
These words of comfort breathe :
" Believers, doubt not this —
All that God takes, and more,
In that approaching world of bliss
He will, through Christ, restore."

W. C.

Boston, March 12, 1846.

In a letter to his parents, under date of Easter Tuesday, he
writes, " I know that you will be anxiously looking for us at New
Haven every hour about this time, and I wish that I had some more
satisfactory apology for not having apprised you of my intentions.
During Passion Week, it was so that we had matins and even song
every day, and lectures in addition, of which (including the Sundays
and the two davs in Easter week) I have prepared and preached
nine. Besides our parochial services, there have been many painful
and exciting duties and occupations, growing out of the troubles in
Trinity Church and Mr. Watson's resignation. This was an
unexpected step, and one vvhich his clerical brethren would not prob
ably have advised. It seemed, moreover, not absolutely necessary,
from the very overpowering number of his friends among the pro
prietors. These have not been diminished by this act, but increased
rather, while the excitement against the author of the persecution
which has driven hiin away is prodigious. I have no doubt it is all for
the best." It is not designed, in these pages, to enter at all into the
49

386 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
merits of this controversy between the bishop, as rector of Trinity
Church, and the proprietors, touching his treatment of Mr. Watson.
The whole affair was spread before the public at the time, and was
doubtless well understood. After giving a brief statement of the case
in his letter, and mentioning the departure of Mr. Watson, he adds,
" They had a dull Easter at the cathedral, (Trinity Church,) like
the passover to the Egyptians ; but the children of Israel at the
Advent had light in their dwellings. Our services were very
animated and delightful, and the daily prayers have been much fre
quented. There is no prospect, at present, of their forsaking the
assembling of themselves together around our altar." He speaks
very gratefully of a valuable Easter gift, received from the ladies of
the parish as a token of their interest ; and after making his arrange
ments for the proposed visit, he concludes, " We are all well at this
present, and have great cause to rejoice that we have been carried
through much arduous duty with so little weariness."
Although, as just remarked, it is not designed to meddle with the
controversy between the right reverend rector and the proprietors
of Trinity Church, yet it may be proper to give place to the two fol
lowing resolutions, introduced, among others, by William H. Gar
diner, Esq., at a meeting of the corporation of Trinity Church,
May 4, 1846, and passed with almost entire unanimity. It will be
perceived, that while the first pointedly disapproves of the party
ground assumed by the bishop in his dealings with his clergy, the
other is equally opposed to the rule avowed by him for excluding
from the ministrations of his church such clergymen as happened to
differ with him in certain narrow theological views and opinions,
and especially those who had officiated at the Church of the
Advent : —
" Resolved, That the proprietors of this church have not viewed
with indifference the questions which of late years have divided and
greatly agitated the whole Protestant Episcopal communion ; but,
on the contrary, avoiding themselves all participation in such con
troversies, they have viewed these dissensions among brethren of the
same church with unmingled dissatisfaction, and intend, if it be pos
sible, that all such matters of dissension shall be utterly excluded
from the walls within vvhich they ant] their ancestors, for more than
one hundred years, have peacefully worshipped.
" Resolved, That the proprietors of this church do not recognize
nor admit, as a just and appropriate means of advancing the cause
of true religion, the principle of exclusion from the altar or the pul
pit of clergymen of regular standing in the Protestant Episcopal
Church, and otherwise well approved for piety, learning, and a
blameless life, and conforming to the settled usages and forms of
worship in this church, for the cause of theological views or opinions
not involving a case for ecclesiastical censure on the score of non-

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 387
conformity to the doctrines of the church of which they profess to
be members."
But this pointed rebuke had no effect in calming the hostile policy
of the bishop towards the Church of the Advent and its rector. It
will be perceived, before the record of the present year is concluded,
that the episcopal power vvas exercised in other modes of annoyance.
But it may be remarked, in passing, that these hostile measures,
instead of checking, rather promoted the flow of good feeling from
other quarters. The gift of a beautiful alms chest from the Lord
Bishop of Frederickton was among the gratifying tokens of regard
for the interests of the parish ; and the following extract will show
how it was appreciated by the rector. Writing to his father May
11, he says, " Our alms chest made its first appearance in the porch
of the church this morning. It is greatly to be admired, and will
attract much attention. I do not know that it will escape episcopal
censure as a thing of superstitious devices. I hope it will serve the
great end designed, in keeping in mind those of Christ's poor who
are ever, according to his prediction, and for our sakes, to be with
us. God bless them ! "
Another significant token of respect for the rector, and of confi
dence in his ministerial principles and practice, may be found in the
fact, that, at the annual commencement of Trinity College, the hon
orary degree of doctor of divinity was conferred upon him. He
was unavoidably prevented from attending on this occasion ; and to
show how wholly this honor vvas unexpected, and how it was
received by him, it is only necessary to cite the-language of a pri
vate letter to his father, August 9 : " Brother  was here on
Friday, and left his card for the Rev. Dr. Croswell, but it was not
until some hours afterwards that I waked up to the consciousness
of the very unexpected accident that had befallen me at the com
mencement of Trinity College. I regard it as a result towards
which our good bishop's pastoral has been mainly instrumental ; and
I know not whether I ought to ask for condolence as much as con
gratulation. I need not say that I have not been emulous of dis
tinction of this sort ; and I must be both older and wiser than I had
thought, if it be not both undeserved and premature. I feel quite
sure that it will be regarded by contemporaries as the consequence
of undue favoritism, and make my seniors jealous. I have ever
wondered that men should be anxious to win that vvhich is so certain
to work their disparagement on the part of their fellows. There
are but few figurative crowns, even, that are not crowns of thorns.
Per contra, and notwithstanding, — so far as the honor is an unsought
and undreamed-of token of confidence in my clerical fidelity to the
old landmarks, at a time when so much effort has been made to
throw distrust and suspicion upon my course, — I frankly confess

388 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
that I do most highly value these honors, and doubt not that many
friends, as they do here, will share in my gratification." ,
The next phase in the bishop's hostile policy is developed in the
following correspondence, which is given entire : —
Correspondence on Confirmation.
I.
To the Right Reverend Manton Eastburn, D. D.,
Bishop of the Diocese of Massachusetts.
Right Reverend Sir : I beg leave respectfully to represent that
there are several persons in my parish who have been for some time
ready and desirous to be confirmed. By making an appointment at
your own convenience (the canonical notice being given) to visit
our chapel and administer that apostolic rite, you will greatly oblige
Yours, faithfully in all duty,
W. CROSWELL.
Rector of the Church of the Advent.
Boston, November 23, 1846. IL Tremont Street, November 24, 1846.
Reverend and dear Sir: I received, yesterday, yours of that
date, requesting me to visit the place of worship of your parish, for
the purpose of administering the rite of confirmation.
I can assure you of the great pleasure it gives me to learn from
you that there are those in your congregation who are desirous of
ratifying their vows to God in that solemn ordinance, and of my
entire readiness to gratify your wishes in reference to them, if the
way can be prepared for my doing so consistently with what I feel
to be my own duty. But, before making any appointment, I feel it
right to learn from you whether such an alteration will be previously
made of the arrangements of the chapel, and of the mode of con
ducting divine service there, as shall be conformable to the prevalent
usage of our Church during past years. I indulge the persuasion
that you and your vestry will see the propriety of according to my
wishes in this respect ; and will add, that if you should think a
friendly conference between us on the subject to be desirable, the
wish will be cordially responded to by myself.
In the event of no such alteration being made, I must decline,
though with great pain, visiting your chapel for the performance of
the interesting service which you request. As I feel it to be right,
however, that those members of your parish to whom you refer
should not, on this account, be deprived of a privilege to which they

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 389
are entitled, I shall he ready to notify you of the time and place
(the. latter to be, of course, one ofthe churches in Boston) at which
I will administer to them the laying on of hands, as soon as you
shall have informed me that the candidates will be ready thus to meet
me for the purpose. I am very truly yours,
MANTON EASTBURN
The Rev. Dr. Croswell.
III. Boston, November 28, 1846.
Right Reverend and dear Sir : I have to acknowledge the
promptness and courtesy of your reply to my request respecting
your visit to our place of worship for the purpose of administering
confirmation, and to express my regret that there should be any
obstacle in your own mind in the way of your making an appoint
ment for that purpose.
I am under necessity, in advance, of troubling you for a word of
explanation. On showing your letter to one of our vestrymen, he
expressed his decided conviction that the alterations which you
desire to have previously made were with reference merely to the
occasion of your visit ; while to another it is equally clear that a
pledge to adhere permanently to certain prescribed changes is the
condition on which the appointment is to be made. This difference
of opinion has created a doubt in my own mind vvhich might not
otherwise have existed, and of which I respectfully ask of you the so
lution, in order that we may proceed in this matter understandingly.
Very truly, your servant and presbyter,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Dr. Eastburn. IV. Tremont Street, November 30, 1846.
Reverend and dear Sir : Yours of the 28th instant has been
received ; in reply to which I would say, that my meaning in the
communication sent to you vvas that of a permanent alteration.
I am, very truly, yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. William Croswell, D. D.

V. Boston, December 8, 1846.
Right Reverend and dear Sir : I was truly concerned to find, by
your note of explanation of the 30th ultimo, that a compliance with

390 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
your own preferences, as to modes of worship on the occasion of
administering confirmation at our chapel, would fall far short of
satisfying your demands. It had been the unanimous understanding
between the vestry and myself, that the arrangements of the chancel,
and the method of celebrating divine service, should on that occasion
be entirely at your own disposition, and we were prepared to take
your own directions with regard to them. Thus much we were
willing to concede, for the sake of peace, and from an anxiety to
avoid the appearance of compelling you to any thing like a compro
mise of your opinions, or that might seem to betray a disregard of
your feelings. At the same time, it is due to ourselves to say that
we feel even such a requirement, under the circumstances, to be a
dangerous precedent, and not therefore to be yielded as a matter of
right, but simply with a view to prepare the way for the administra
tion of that solemn ordinance "consistently with what you feel to
be your own duty."
After maturely weighing your letter with this explanation, I now
understand you distinctly to require nothing less than this — as a
condition absolute and precedent to the discharge of episcopal
offices in our church, viz., an assurance or pledge that certain
changes shall be made in our arrangements and mode of conducting
divine service ; and that these alterations shall be permanent and
continuous. Now, I fully admit that there may be departures, not from the
written law of the Church only, but from a recognized and legiti
mate usage, of such a character as to warrant a bishop in refusing
to perform episcopal offices in a church where they exist. Yet I
do, with all solemnity, protest against this ground being taken with
reference to things not required by the Church, about which there
is admitted doubt, and a recognized diversity of practice and opinion
in the Church. To use a sort of interdict in order to compel con
formity to each bishop's private tastes, preferences, and opinions, I
cannot but feel to be a violation of the rights of presbyters and
parishes. It is not possible that such a claim should be submitted
to and carried out, — and even if it were, though I do not mention
it as a reason, yet it deserves to be considered, — however it might
seem to create greater uniformity within each diocese for a time, it
would certainly result in a more marked difference between differ
ent dioceses, and iu the same diocese, under different bishops.
I have had much opportunity, during the last year, carefully, and
I may say daily, to consider our arrangements and mode of wor
ship, and have been confirmed in all my previous impressions with
regard to their consistency with the rubric, as expounded by the
best ritualists, and as to their salutary tendency in preserving in my
own mind, and that of my fellow-worshippers, the reverence which is
due in divine ministrations. It is freely conceded that there are

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 39]
points in wliich they differ from those that obtain in the church
of which you are rector, and from those which generally prevail at
present in this neighborhood. At the same time, it cannot be denied
that these very usages have not only been followed without objec
tion in other portions of the Church, but have received the sanction
of the highest authorities. And even in this neighborhood, as the
oldest rector in this city, I have lived to see various diversities of
practice, and many considerable changes in the arrangements of
chancels ; and it would be easy to enumerate particulars in which
they differ on points where the Church has given no discretion. In
none of these things, I am satisfied, has the parish of the Advent
gone beyond the latitude which the Church allows, or offended
against either the letter or the spirit of its rules, or violated its
decent or seemly order, or afforded a bishop any warrant for depriv
ing us of the episcopal visitation and offices which are secured to
us by the canons.
Another obvious difficulty is suggested by your requirement of a
personal promise or pledge to pursue a certain course, and this, too,
not for a special occasion, but unlimited in its terms. When I was
admitted to the holy order of deacons, first, and then of the priest
hood, in addition to the solemn vows of ordination, I signed a decla
ration, in which I engaged " to conform to the doctrine and worship qf
the Protestant Episcopal Church in tlie United States." These obliga
tions rest upon me with all their weight at this moment ; and for any
offences in violation of them, I am liable to canonical proceedings.
I have reason to object to giving any pledges beyond these ; and
over and above the duties put upon me by the Church, I regard the
enacting of such pledges as a dangerous precedent — especially
when required, as it is here, under the penalty of cutting off from
important privileges. If I remember Bishop White's commentary
aright, the standard by which the bishop's " godly admonitions " are
to be directed, are the various established institutions of the Church,
and not his private opinion. " The Church," says he, " is under
a government of law, and not of will." If the assurance which you
require relates to the established institutions of the Church, then it
is superfluous ; if, as in this case, it is for something beyond those,
and for the purpose of securing conformity to private opinion, or lo
cal practice, on points upon vvhich there are diversities of opinion
and practice in the Church, then the requirement, under the penalty
which you have affixed to it, is one in which I am unwilling to in
volve myself; and the claim of a right thus to demand it, I feel
bound, on general principles, to withstand. As a personal matter,
it may not be improper for me to allude to the peculiarity of my
position, in being called upon privately to abandon observances for
which I have been, in the most public manner, censured by yourself,
and which you have held up to the world as perilous and degrading ;

392 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1846.
since the relinquishment of them, under such circumstances, could
hardly fail to be regarded as an admission of the character imputed
to them, if not also of the legality of that act of censure.
It has occurred to me that you may possibly be under mistake as
to what is actually done at our chapel. We know that there have
been false representations, and are still, to some extent, false im
pressions, abroad on the subject ; and it has always seemed to me
that your circular indicated a wrong conception of our usages. Yet
our worship is public and daily, and nothing is concealed. I would
call your attention to my letter of December 6, 1845, and to the re
solves of the wardens and vestry which accompany it, as containing
a full and fair statement of our arrangements and mode of conduct
ing divine service. If you have supposed that any thing else is done
by us than is stated in those documents, we shall be happy to cor
rect your impressions, or to communicate any more particular infor
mation which you may desire. But while I acknowledge your offer
of a personal conference, yet, after what has taken place, and in con
sideration of the importance of the subject, I think you will agree
with me, that whatever may pass between us should not be left to
depend upon the recollection of conversations ; a state of things
which is always embarrassing to the parties, and especially so after
any considerable lapse of time.
If, on a full consideration of the case, you adhere to your deter
mination to refuse a visitation, I have no other alternative, consistent
with a due regard to those of my flock who would otherwise be
deprived of privileges to which they are entitled, but to submit.
Though I am well persuaded of their readiness to meet their bishop
wherever he may appoint, it will occur to you that there may be strong
preferences as to place. If they are not to receive confirmation in the
place where they have received their deepest religious impressions
and been knit together in one, and at the foot of the holy tltar where
some of them have already made, and all hope to make, their first
communion, I trust it will seem but reasonable to request that they
will not be required to attend at the church of any of my junior
presbyters. In a word, if the bishop refuses to come to us, we
hope, at least, to be permitted to come to the bishop in his own
cathedral church. Considering also the age and circumstances of
some of the candidates, I would further ask, that it may take place
on the Lord's day, and at the usual hour of morning or evening ser
vice. On any Sunday after the Epiphany which you may appoint,
I will endeavor, the Lord being my helper, to be prepared to pre
sent myself with such as he shall have given me.
I remain, right reverend and dear sir,
Yours, in the holy office of priesthood,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Manton Eastbubn, D. D., Bishop, &c.

1846.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 393
VI. Boston, December 12, 1846.
Reverend and dear Sir : I write this to inform you that I shall
hold a confirmation in Trinity Church, in this city, on the mornina:
of the second Sunday after Epiphany, January 17, 1847, at which
time it will give me pleasure to administer the rite to such as you
shall present to me. The service will commence at the usual hour
of quarter past ten.
In the mean time, I am very sincerely yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. W. Cboswell, D. D.
During the progress of this correspondence with his bishop, he
expresses, in his letters to his father, a great desire to " avoid the
necessity of reviving the old controversy." But, without " forgetting
what is due to the ¦ diocesan," he is still resolved to put the whole
matter upon a right footing. His last letter to the bishop was drawn
up with deliberation and care. " I am desirous," he says, " to give
it as much of completeness as the importance of the subject deserves.
I do not count upon its making any impression upon him. I am
satisfied that all argument is lost upon his mind, when his will is in
the way ; but a great principle is at stake, and one in vvhich the
whole Church is interested, viz., whether the threat of cutting off
from canonical privileges may be lawfully used to compel conformity
to a bishop's private tastes, preferences, and opinions. I hope these
unpleasant discussions will not be allowed to divert our thoughts and
hearts, at this season, from more important subjects. Our services
are as much crowded as ever, and seem to awaken a hopeful degree
of interest in those who attend them. The animation of our wor
ship is truly inspiring, and I am sure it would do your spirit good
to be sustained with so hearty a response as we have had to-day."
On finally acceding to the bishop's ultimatum, he gives as a reason,
" After making due protest against what I regarded as a dangerous
precedent, I thought it would be better not to encourage a standing
out against his appointment to meet us elsewhere. Indeed, consist
ently with a regard to the welfare of my flock, who would thus be
required to forego a privilege to whicli they were entitled, I did not
see my way clear to do so. Accordingly, I signified my willingness
to avail myself of his alternative." He afterwards speaks of the
civility of the vestry of Trinity Church, and the pewholders gener
ally, in tendering accommodations to the people of the Advent, on
the occasion of their visit. " This occasion," he says, " begins to be
looked forward to with great interest, and will draw together a
crowd. So that this thing will not be done in a corner."
While his mind vvas thus heavily taxed with this unpleasant con
troversy, and while his pastoral cares and labors were exceedingly
50

394 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
pressing, he had a domestic trial which caused him much anxiety.
His little daughter, who had been slightly indisposed from time to
time, now began to suffer from the incipient symptoms of a com
plaint, of the serious nature of vvhich he was not fully aware, but
which eventually caused her a long and distressing confinement. Of
the result of this case, which proved more favorable than the family
had been led to fear, it may be necessary to speak hereafter. The
record of the eusuing year now presents itself.

1847.
From the foregoing details, the reader is prepared, in some
measure, for the opening incidents of the present year. These are
related by the rector of the Advent with sufficient minuteness to
show the true position of the parties. January 11, after apologizing
for some delay in writing, he says, " Duties have come as thick and
fast as the minutes. My time has been frittered away, not unprof-
itably, as I hope, but still in a way of which I can give no very pre
cise account. The preparation of candidates for confirmation is
always attended with a good deal of care, as frequent calls are ne
cessary, not only for the purpose of instruction, but to communicate
the first idea often, to those you are addressing, that they, having
ears to hear, are expected to hear. We have the additional obsta
cle to encounter from the course of the bishop, and the unwillingness
which many have to receive confirmation at his hands. Some have
already gone into other dioceses to avoid the necessity, and others
will do the same. Still, I think, a considerable number will go to
the house of God in company next Sunday morning, and count, at
least, upon about twenty — all adults, and about half of them gen
tlemen. The wardens of Trinity Church have reserved pews for our
accommodation, and we shall be attended probably by a large body
of our parishioners. It will be a spectacle of much interest, and I
have no doubt that the church will be crowded. I shall give you
an account of it as soon as it is fairly over." Accordingly, on the
18th he writes, " Yesterday was clear and bright, and vvas very
favorable for our solemnities. Our candidates met by appointment
at our chapel. Eighteen were present. I had counted upon more ;
but sickness prevented in one instance, and other reasons in more.
Had the ordinance been administered in our own place, and under
ordinary circumstances, the number would have been nearly doubled.
As it was, there was something remarkably interesting in the char
acter of the company presented. There were no mere children.

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 395
All were mature and full grown, of different ages and stations in
life — young men in their prime, aged, rich, and poor — the latter intel
ligent and respectable in their appearance. Wc provided a carriage
for the invalids, — the rest proceeded on foot, — a large body of the
parishioners accompanied us. Eligible seats were provided for the
candidates near the chancel on our arrival. The bishop sent for me
to the vestry room, and invited me to read the epistle in the ante-
communion service, and take a seat in the chancel. I did not hesi
tate to accept the invitation. The church vvas full. The bishop
preached, and the confirmation followed. There were but six can
didates from Trinity Church, making just enough in all to fill the
rails once, without crowding or confusion. I presume a service of
more intense interest never was transacted within those walls. The
bishop's address was quite unexceptionable. I vvas under much
emotion at times, though controlled within proper bounds. The
bishop betrayed none. . . . When I went to the vestry, I told
him I was obliged to him ; and added, with some agitation, that I
could not have desired any thing to have been different in his address.
He said, with a hard and stereotyped way, that the service was sol
emn, and he hoped that a blessing would attend it. And so we
parted, with a strong hope on my part that I should soon be enabled
to come with a younger train."
Buoyed up by this hope, and encouraged by the flattering pros
pects of his parish, he pursued his course steadily and diligently ; al
lowing himself, by way of relaxation, but a few weeks during the
whole year, vvhich were spent in short visits and excursions. Owing
to the occasional sickness and absence of his assistant, the chief
burden of the weekly and daily services devolved upon him, except
when relieved by the generous and voluntary aid of Dr. Eaton and
other visiting brethren. His health suffered, at times, from excessive
duty and exposure ; and in addition to this, a sad drawback to his
enjoyment was experienced in the long-protracted and dangerous
illness of his little daughter. She began, early in the spring, to have
alarming symptoms of disease. The origin of her complaint was
somewhat obscure, and its progress slow. But it resulted in lumbar
abscess, and subjected her to a tedious confinement, in a recumbent
or reclining position, for several months. During the heat of the
summer, she vvas removed, by the recommendation of her physician,
and at the kind solicitation of a most excellent friend, Mrs. Carpen
ter, to her residence at Lee Vale, a delightful, quiet, and retired
place in Cambridge. Here, besides the best of medical attendance,
she had every possible care, attention, and indulgence that the most
devoted friendship and parental affection could bestow. In the lat
ter part of July, to the great relief of her anxious friends, her com
plaint came to a favorable crisis. She passed through it safely, and
was eventually restored to health. His letters during this severe vis-

396 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
itation are marked with his usual tenderness of feeling, mingled with
the most unreserved submission to the will of God ; and when the
danger was past, he opened the deep fountains of his heart in the
most affecting strains of praise and thanksgiving.
During the pendency of this trial, and amid the great labor and
care which came upon him in the due order of his public services,
his mind was very much absorbed by another object. The hall in
Lowell Street, though fitted up in a neat and commodious manner,
was too much exposed to noise and interruption during the week
day services, and also proved to be too small to meet the increasing
demaud for sittings. A movement was therefore made, early in the
year, for procuring a permanent house of worship for the use of the
parish ; and a fund vvas commenced for the purpose by many liberal
subscriptions. February 15, he says, " Our affairs look very prom
isingly ; our subscription papers are filling up apace ; and we can
almost see our church rising, as if by magic, and like the temple of
old, without the sound of axes and hammers." But these anticipa
tions were not fulfilled precisely to the letter. To raise the neces
sary funds, to select a suitable site, and to erect a new church,
would necessarily consume too much time. Hence it was deemed
advisable to procure, with as little delay as possible, a more capa
cious and convenient place of worship. And to this object the at
tention of the rector and the corporation of his church was imme
diately directed. After much inquiry and examination, the effort
resulted in the purchase, at a cost of twenty-five thousand dollars,
of a plain and substantial building, in an eligible situation on Green
Street, originally erected by a Congregational society, under the pas
toral care of the Rev. Dr. Jenks. This building vvas remodelled,
and adapted to the worship of the Church, and was first occupied
as a regular house of prayer by the parish on the first Sunday in
Advent. As there will be occasion to speak more at large of this
building and its ecclesiastical arrangement before the record of this
year is closed, the subject is dropped for the present, for the pur
pose of touching upon other topics alluded to in his current cor
respondence. The feast of St. Paul's having passed, he recurs to it in his cus
tomary strain of solemn contemplation, coupling his reflections with
a passing tribute to one of his early friends and classmates, Isaac H.
Townsend, Esq., of whose death he had recently been informed :
" I kept St. Paul's day as of old, and recalled its return in other
years ; and I thought of those who had gone since I wrote ' The
Ordinal.' How swift the lapse of time ! How true to experience
the similes of the inspired book ! It has made me sad to think of
Townsend's premature death, humanly speaking. I remember the
fresh and eager look of his boyhood when we sat at the feet of the
same teacher, and he was foremost of all his peers. In college, he

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 397
distanced us all. His legal studies were conducted in the same
spirit. In his determined purpose of acquiring all mysteries and
all knowledge, he seemed to sacrifice everything else — to hold
himself aloof from the ties of domestic life, lest they should interfere
with his intellectual progress ; and 1 fear he has paid the fearful
forfeit in taxing his mental powers beyond their natural strength.
For some time, the energies of his mind, I have been told, have been
failing ; and if he was conscious of it, I do not doubt that it has
hastened the catastrophe. I was never intimate with him. We had
but few sympathies together, and but little in common. Still I
respected him, and appreciated his acquirements. I hope the pearl
of great price vvas among them, and that he had treasure laid up in
heaven ; for if not, the richest of our race are poor indeed.
The stars *' are thickening on our college roll,
Types of their place, perhaps, in other spheres,
And warning signs to bid thee, O my soul,
Prepare to join the friends of happier years."
Writing' to his father, Monday before Easter, he says, " I have a
summons to be present at the examination of Trinity College, com
mencing on Tuesday of Easter week, as chairman of the committee
of the Fellows. The call is imperative, and I must obey, unless some
thing providential here should make my remaining still more indis
pensable. ... It will not be a very satisfactory recreation for
the Easter holidays, cooped up in a college recitation room for two
days ; but laurels are not to be won without a sacrifice." He pro
ceeds, " Our services are intensely interesting as we draw nearer
and nearer to the cross. Yesterday was so fine a day that the church
was full. To-day we have services morning and evening, and the
same all the days of the week."
In obedience to the summons from the college, he proceeded to
Hartford on Easter Monday, April 5 ; and after attending to the
duties there, he made a short visit to New Haven, and returned to
Boston on the 16th. He found his assistant sick, and his own la
bors were consequently so much the more abundant. His letters,
therefore, at this time, though despatched weekly, were more brief
than usual, and afford only here and there a passage for selection.
On Monday in Whitsun week he writes, " Pentecost is in char
acter — the elements genial and inspiring — and the tender green of
the young leaves shows that the soul of universal nature is at last
stirred. We were with one accord, in one place, seeking the grace
promised to divine unity iu the communion of the Holy Ghost, the
Comforter ; and not, we hope, in vain."
* In the college catalogues, a star or asterisk placed against the name of a
graduate denotes his decease.

398 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
For the sketch which follows, no apology is necessary. It serves
to illustrate the policy of the bishop, in giving countenance, in one
case, to the very same chancel arrangements which he made the
ground of ecclesiastical censure in the Church of the Advent. " Last
night, the bishop administered confirmation at St. Stephen's, for the
second time this season, to about thirteen or fourteen persons. His
address was more parental and affectionate than ever I heard from
him before ; and I hear of no exceptions taken to the arrangements
of the chancel. And this is most remarkable ; because, wherein our
own were open to exception, St. Stephen's goes far beyond us.
High up, on the ledge of the wainscotting, over the altar, and just
beneath the window, was a row of burning candles, — the candle
sticks could not be seen, — disclosing a large wooden cross in the
window. On the altar itself were two silver candlesticks, of three
branches each. A large cross in the middle aisle bore aloft similar
candlesticks on the arms and on the head ; and another row along
the singers' gallery constituted the source of all the material illu
mination which the place had."
From this time until the autumn, with the exception of a short
visit from his father, very few incidents occurred to break in upon
the round of cares and duties already alluded to. But in the month
of September he was induced, by the urgent solicitations of
two of his young friends and fellow-townsmen, Henry Edwards
and Oliver S. Prescott, to visit New Haven and preach a sermon,
on the occasion of their admission to the order of deacons. He
had consented to this arrangement with much reluctance, on account
of his want of time to make the necessary preparation. " I will
endeavor," he says, " not to fail you, and hope that I shall not dis
appoint reasonable expectation. I can give but little thought to any
thing beyond what presses upon me weekly." The ordination took
place on the 16th of September, and all the services, not excepting
the sermon, passed off to the mutual satisfaction of all parties.
His next absence from home was on a short excursion with his
friend Dr. Shattuck, of which he gives the following sketch in
a letter of October 12, addressed to his mother, while his father
was attending a session of the General Convention : " I returned
this morning from a week's excursion to Troy, Albany, West Point,
and New York. . . . Nothing could exceed the gratification
afforded by our visit to our friends at Troy and Albany. The little
Church of the Holy Cross at the former place, with its daily services
and choir of charity children, — its architectural beauty, reminding
one of what he has supposed to be furnished by some of the
academical chapels of Oxford and Cambridge, — is truly a study for a
devout pilgrim of the cross. ... A cordial reception awaited
us also at Albany. ... On Thursday afternoon of last week,
we arrived at West Point. . . . We did not see much of the

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 399
military ; but we saw what we came to see, and what we valued
more ; for our pilgrimage has been an ecclesiastical one. The
scenery is beyond my power to convey an impression of; and we
agreed that Dr. Syntax, in search of the picturesque, might, in this
respect, have envied us. What most interested us was the little
chapel of the Holy Innocents. It was in a secluded spot, a mile or
more below the Point, between the mountains and the river, and in
the best taste. Mr. Weir, the artist, not only designed it, but it
has been executed more at his expense than that of any other per
son. When we know that he is dependent on his art for support,
and that he has a family of nine children, his self-sacrifice and
unselfishness in this matter is the more exemplary. The morning
and evening service is daily celebrated, and we joined in the sacri
fice. We had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Weir and other excel
lent catholic spirits. We spent a memorable hour with Mr. Weir
in his studio, and he showed us some sketches for paintings, which
gladdened our eyes and hearts."
On the feast of All Saints, November 1, after congratulating his
father on his return from the General Convention, he notes a few
particulars in relation to the building vvhich had been purchased as
their future place of worship. " We are slowly completing our
alterations of the Green Street meeting liouse into something that
shall be all-glorious within. I think, however, that it will be the
divine service chiefly that will make it so. The basement is very
large, and will afford fine accommodations for our Sunday school.
There will also be a large robing room and vestry below.
The principal audience room will have a spacious and com
modious chancel, and a rather high altar. The pew doors
have been taken off, and there is abundant room to kneel.
There seems but httle remaining to be done ; but the days are
short, and it may be that we shall not be ready to commence our
services there till Advent Sunday." Speaking subsequently of the
slow progress of these alterations, he says, " But what they accom
plish is very satisfactory ; and I think we shall have as church-like
arrangements of the altar and furniture as are to be found in the
city ; though this is not saying much. There will be a hundred
pews, or rather open seats, on the floor ; for we have discarded
the doors, and cut down the ends to a scroll elbow piece — a vast
improvement in the appearance of the building, and settling an
important principle. How strange the spectacle would be in our
eyes, if we were not accustomed to it — this buttoning in of families
on the floor of the sacred edifice, each in their separate pens !
Since these repairs have been going on, I have dwelt, as
it were, in the house of the Lord, when I could be spared ; and
shall spend much more time there when all is completed ; and hope

400 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
to find, as indeed I have ever done, that one day in His courts is
better than a thousand."
Writing on his forty-third birthday, he began to moralize on the
occasion ; but being interrupted, he says, on again taking up his
pen, " I will not resume the attempt to sermonize. Suffice it to say,
that I adore the goodness and mercy that have followed me all the
days of my life thus far, and so abundantly blessed our domestic
relations to our mutual comfort. May God long spare each mem
ber of the family to be a comfort to the rest ; and, after a short
separation, may it please him to hasten the number of his elect, and
unite us forever in his heavenly kingdom, through Jesus Christ our
Lord. Amen ! "
The following characteristic passage is from the same letter : " I
was at the laying of the corner stone of the Church of the Messiah
yesterday. I endeavor to unite with the brethren, whether they
will unite with me or not. Brother Randall's address vvas very
good ; and at the aspiration at the close, I audibly responded, ' Amen.'
I took his hand afterwards, for his faithful testimony, and hoped
that they would bring forth the top stone with shoutings. I do not
envy him his building when completed, in comparison with ours ;
and I forgive him that I could not draw from him a word of con
gratulation in return for mine."
November 14, he speaks of his desire " to make out, if possible, a
genealogical table of the Croswell family before all are gone who
can assist in developing it. 1 think the memoirs of the family, in all
its branches, would be rich in curious anecdote — the eastern hardly
less so than the western. Without an exception, whatever their
parts, none of the name have ever accumulated any great wealth,
though many of thern have come very near it. I am inclined to
think, however, that many of them have been rich in faith, and heirs
of the kingdom."
November 22, he writes, " We had our last communion and Sun
day services at the chapel in Lowell Street yesterday, and they were
of solemn interest — both the curate and myself preaching appropriate
sermons." The opening of the new place of worship in Green Street was an
event of deep interest to the parish as well as the rector, and the
fulfilment of many pleasing anticipations. From his own pen, how
ever, there is but a brief sketch of the event itself, and this is found
in a diary, entitled " Words of Days : a record of the daily minis
trations of the offices and ordinances of the Church at the Church
of the Advent, in Green Street, from the time of its reopening as a
place of Episcopal worship, on Advent Sunday, November 28,
1847." But a more particular account is copied from one of the
religious periodicals of the day : —

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 401
" Church of the Advent. The first service of the parish of
the Advent, Boston, in their new place of worship, was held on
Sunday, the 28th of November. The chapel was previously occu
pied by a Congregational society, and has been fitted up in a man
ner suitable for the worship of our church. The pew doors have all
been taken off, and every seat is free. The chancel is spacious, with
only the altar within the rail, and a lectern and seats for the clergy
without the rail. Above and behind the altar are four tablets, for
the creed, Lord's prayer, and sacraments, and a simple cross,
over which are the words, Lo, I come ! particularly significant of
that event, to the commemoration of which, as past, and the prepara
tion for which, as to come, the church is specially consecrated. The
Rev. Drs. Croswell and Eaton, and Rev. Mr. Pollard, officiated ;
the communion service was performed, and Dr. Croswell preached
a highly interesting sermon. The congregation was very large, and
the prospects of the parish are quite encouraging. It is a singular
coincidence, that this parish, which took its name without reference
to the time of its organization, should have had its first public ser
vice, its first service and sermon by its first and only rector, and its
first service in its new place of worship, each on Advent Sun
day." — Churchman.
Among the pleasing incidents connected with the transfer of the
Green Street Meeting House to the parish of the Advent, was the
receipt of the following communication from the Rev. Dr. Jenks,
in answer apparently to a note inviting him to attend the services
ofthe Church on Advent Sunday: —
1 Crescent Place, November 26, 1847.
Reverend and dear Sir : Accept my sincere thanks for the
very kind invitation you have so obligingly sent me. I could not
peruse your note without emotion. And I rejoice that the house
in which I have so long officiated in the gospel will still resound with
the preaching of " Christ crucified " for the sins of men.
This satisfaction is much enhanced, when I contemplate the dan
ger there was, lest a comjiany, formed for the purpose, should have
succeeded in obtaining the house in order to erect a theitre on its
site. This would have been a " grief of heart " to me.
I had made my arrangement with my reverend brother Blagden
some time before the reception of your note ; and shall expect to
attend statedly, (when abroad,) at the Old South, where I am
engaged to preach on Lord's day morning next. But this does
not lessen my obligation for the kindness of your friendly offer.
Among the most painful things attending the scattering and dis
solution of the late church and religious society in Green Street, the
dispersion ofthe flourishing Sabbath school was, perhaps, the greatest.
51

402 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
It is pleasant to me to reflect that the room it occupied will be
reopened, and sacred instruction be still given to the young.
That it may please the great Head of the Church to make your
ministry long and greatly successful, and that he may enable you
not only to " save yourself," but also " them that hear you," is the
desire and prayer of, reverend and dear sir,
Yours in the gospel of Christ, WILLIAM JENKS.
Rev. Dr. Ckoswell,
But while the affairs of the Advent were thus prosperous, the
rector and his people were soon taught to feel that the " tyranny "
of the bishop's course was by no means " overpast," although it
assumed, in some respects, a new or modified form. The rector,
writing to his father November 22, says, "Last week, five of the
clergy, Messrs. Vinton, Clark, Mason, Woart, and Randall,
called, in a body, first at our house, and then at the church ; but not
finding me at either place, they left without mentioning their errand.
The next evening they called again, and I gave them a cordial
reception. They professed to have the best intentions, and a hearty
desire for unity and a restoration of clerical intercourse. This
feeling, of course, was reciprocated. They had been first to the
bishop, to see on what terms he would consent to bury the hatchet.
They had had difficulty in inducing him to concede any thing. But
he had finally concluded to waive his objections to every thing, pro
vided I would pray towards the people. I had rather a free talk
with them — not unpleasant on either side, and not compromising,
you may be sure, on mine. It ended with the assurance that I
would give the subject a deliberate consideration, and inform them
of the result. A meeting of the clergy, the beginning of a sort
of city convocation, is to be held this evening at Dr. Vinton's.
Instead of attending, I purpose to send the following note : " —
Boston, November 22, 1847-
To Dr. Vinton, &c.
Dear Brethren: I have again to thank you for your kind efforts
to mediate between the bishop of the diocese and myself, with
regard to the posture observed in divine worship at the Church of
the Advent. I have carefully reviewed the whole subject more than
once, and have uniformly returned to the conclusions which are con
tained in a correspondence between the bishop and myself, nearly a
year since. I beg leave to submit a copy of that correspondence to
your candid perusal, and should have no objections, for my own
part, to its being published, if it should be thought advisable. It
should be understood, that conformity to our usage, in the particular
to which you refer, has never been required as a condition of clerical

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 403
exchange with my brethren, and that a kneeling stool will be pro
vided for the use of those who may prefer, for any reason, to kneel
at the lectern. Very sincerely, your obedient servant,
W. CROSWELL.
P. S. There are considerations of a delicate nature, which I will
mention when we meet, that prevent me from joining the brethren
at your house this evening.
This was followed by a letter from the bishop : —
Teemont Street, November 24, 1847.
Reverend and dear Sm : I have learned, with great satisfaction,
that several of the parochial clergy of the city, with a view of pro
moting brotherly unity and friendly clerical interchange between
yourself and them, have represented to you their wish that you
would so far conform to prevailing usage, in your mode of conduct
ing divine service in your church, that so desirable an end might be
accomplished. I now beg to express to you once more my own strong desire on
the same subject ; and, as you are on the eve of taking possession of
a new place of worship, I have thought the present a favorable
opportunity for thus afresh declaring to you my wishes.
There are several particulars in which a return by you to the
usages of your brethren is desired by me — such as the wearing of
the gown, instead of the surplice, in preaching ; the reading of the
morning and evening prayer from a reading desk ; and the use of a
pulpit for preaching, and the regular use of the metrical psalms
and hymns. On these, however, 1 will not insist ; and the utmost
that I now ask you to do in this matter is, either that, if the prayers
should be read from a reading desk, you will kneel at it, according
to the prevailing custom, with your face towards the people ; or
that, if the prayers be read at the communion table, you will see
that it be so placed that both you and the other clergymen officiat
ing can stand or kneel without inconvenience at the end of it, and
close by it, in the usual way, instead of being at a distance from it,
either at the end or in front.
I take this opportunity of saying, though I can scarcely think it
necessary, that, in all my past measures connected with this unpleas
ant subject, I have been influenced by no considerations of persona]
unkindness to you. The friendly intercourse which had previously
subsisted between you and your family and myself, after your
removal from western New York to this city, forbids this
supposition. My motives, in what I have done, have been those of official duty
exclusively ; and, under the influence of the same motives, I now

404 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
most earnestly call upon you, as your diocesan, at least to make
the change above referred to, and no longer to persevere in a
course so at variance with the customs which, from the first estab
lishment of our Church, have prevailed in our places of worship,
both in this and other dioceses.
I am, reverend and dear sir,
Your faithful brother,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. W. Ckoswell, D. D.
He could not but look upon the introductory part of this letter
as "rather cool — the object ofthe clerical delegation being, as was
expressly stated by them, to mediate between the bishop of the dio
cese and myself." He was too much occupied at the moment to
return a full answer ; and therefore sent, by way of explanation, the
following hasty note : — Ckescent Place, November 27, 1847.
Right reverend and dear Sir: I write this brief note to
say that your favor of the 24th was put into my hands the next day ;
but that, owing to the very pressing nature of my engagements in
preparing for the opening of our new place of worship on Advent
Sunday, I am not able, this week, as I could have desired, to do
more than to acknowledge the receipt.
In great haste, very truly,
Your friend and servant,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Dr. Eastbujkn.
From various causes of delay, the full answer was not forwarded
to the bishop until the 30th of December. In the mean time, he kept
his father advised of every proceeding, and often received a free
expression of his opinion on the several points involved in the dis
cussion. But a single extract is made from a letter to his father,
December 6 : " Touching the postures, I agree with you entirely.
The arrangements being mainly like those at the Church of the
Holy Communion, (New York,) we kneel at an angle of forty-five
towards the end of the altar, exhibiting the profile to most of
the congregation. . . . Dr. Boyle was with us on Sunday, and
commended our manner of exhibiting the service, as not only unex
ceptionable, but exemplary, and said that it came nearer than any
other to the interior of the oldest church in Christendom, St.
Clements of Rome, built in the fourth century, with a simple altar,
and without that invention of a late Papal age called a pulpit — a
word, he said, originally applied to the rostrum from which the
mountebanks exhibited their antics. ' A use not so foreign,' said

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 405
the doctor, ' from that to which they are now sometimes devoted.'
It is somewhat remarkable, not to say providential, that the oldest
and most venerable presbyter in the diocese, good Dr. Eaton, is
constantly present and assisting in our daily and weekly services."
Nothing now remains to complete the record of the year but his
letter to Bishop Eastburn. Boston, December 30, 1847.
Right reverend and dear Sir : I have thought it due to your
office and character that a letter of so much importance as yours
of the 24th ultimo should receive the most mature deliberation.
Hence the delay in returning an answer ; though I cannot say that
I have, from the first, felt much hesitation as to the course which I
ought to pursue.
My impressions differ considerably from your own with regard to
the design and intention of the call of several of tbe parochial
clergy of the city, to whom you allude as interested in promoting
brotherly unity. Tliese respected brethren, with a view to the res
toration of happier relations between yourself and the Church of
the Advent, had kindly volunteered, as I understand it, to act in the
capacity of mediators. To this end, according to my recollections,
they had first called upon you, to ascertain precisely what terms of
promised conformity they were to be allowed to propose as a con
dition of the performance of episcopal acts in our church, and,
of course, were to acquaint you with the result of their interview
with me. I gratefully appreciated such services as these at their
hands, as neither unworthy of them nor myself; and, at their re
quest, I carefully reviewed the whole subject. Several days before
the receipt of your letter, I informed them that I had done so,
more than once, and that I had also uniformly returned to the same
conclusion vvhich I had already communicated to you in a corre
spondence with regard to confirmation, about a year since, and for
the same reasons. As they did not appear to have been made ac
quainted with that correspondence and its bearing on our present
unfortunate relations, I submitted a copy to their candid perusal.
And I would now beg leave to call your own attention to it again,
as bringing to view some momentous principles which are involved
in this matter, as it has been regarded by me, and a recollection of
which is necessary to a proper understanding of our relative rights
and duties. If these were as clearly expressed as I suppose, in my
letter of December 8, 1846, they were perhaps unconsciously over
looked by you at the time, or have been forgotten, or lost sight of,
since. Certain it is, at least, that you have not, to my knowledge,
taken any notice of them. I further apprised the brethren that
waited on me, that, however well satisfied of the correctness and
suitableness of our usages, I had never assumed to require con-

406 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
formity to them as a condition of clerical exchange ; and that a
kneeling stool, moreover, would be provided for those who, for any
cause, should prefer to kneel at the lectern. In this connection, I
cannot but regard it as remarkable, that many other of the breth
ren of the city and neighborhood, as well as ofthe Church at large,
and who had been much more familiar with our mode of worship
than some of the brethren who waited upon me, have repeatedly
officiated at our chapel, and have had uo difficulty in accommodating
themselves to our usages. I think it right to state, that the three
senior presbyters of the diocese, veterans in the service of the
Church, are among the number who have expressed great satisfac
tion in our services, and have regarded our arrangements as unex
ceptionable ; and I must be allowed to add, with undisguised grati
fication, that one of these, the eldest and most venerable of all your
presbyters, whose irreprovable ministry covers more years than I
have lived, has been in the habit of assisting at our daily and weekly
service, and authorizes me to say, that he is ready to bear his testi
mony in favor of the tendency of our mode of ministration to high
religious enjoyment and edification.
If I am correct, as I believe, in the positions taken in the letter
alluded to, of December 8, 1846, then I cannot perceive how they
are affected, either by any thing that fell from my brethren (who
had not seen that correspondence) at the time of our interview, or
by your own letter of the 24th ultimo ; unless it be that certain things
are now yielded as admissible wliich have heretofore been publicly
set forth in terms tending, where I was not known, to bring my
ministrations into contempt, as, " degrading," or, what is worse,
into abhorrence, as " perilous to the souls of men." The remain
ing particular, in which conformity is yet insisted on, as the condi
tion of the performance of episcopal acts, stands, as it seems to
me, upon the same footing with the rest. Nor do I perceive upon
what notions, either of church law, of general propriety, or the
furtherance of uniformity, it is more obligatory than the claim to
enforce by authority the use of the collect and Lord's prayer be
fore sermon, the reverent bowing at the holy name of Jesus in the
creed, or the exclusion of desks and pulpits from chancels. Yet in
none of these points is there any such penalty imposed upon your
clergy for a non-compliance with your wishes and preferences, how
ever earnestly expressed ; while among the clergy themselves, as is
best known to those who have been longest among them, there is a
conceded diversity of opinion and practice, and a mutual toleration
of differences.
Putting all previous acts out of the question, and supposing the
case to stand solely upon your last letter of the 24th ultimo, I should
certainly have been disposed, for the sake of peace, to yield all
deference to your requests, whether official or otherwise, and with-

1847.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 407
out, perhaps, very carefully considering whether the compliance
proceeded from a spirit of submission to ecclesiastical authority, or
from mere good nature, or indifference, or sentiments of personal
consideration. Even in this case, however, it could not with con
sistency be admitted, for a moment, that the bishop's conscience and
private opinion were to be regarded as the standard of clerical con
formity, or that compliance with his preferences was the condition
on which his clergy and parishes were to be allowed the enjoyment
of their chartered privileges. Canonical obedience to the diocesan,
in our branch of the Church at least, has its limits, which, however
they may seem to vary, as viewed by different minds, are intended,
as the expression shows, to be distinctly defined by our standards.
And one cannot help being struck with the strong and explicit terms
in which those limits are jealously guarded in the pages of the only
exposition of the canon law of our Church which has yet been pub
lished, and which in many quarters,*at the present time, would be
regarded as authoritative. Speaking of the supposition that the
bishop is not to be restrained in the conscientious exercise of his
official functions, this able writer observes, " Now, on this subject,
a very dangerous error seems to be gaining ground. The practice
of early bishops is often referred to, under the imposing names of
antiquity and primitive usage, to sanction the acts of modern Epis
copacy. But it seems to be forgotten, that the usage of regulating
the exercise qf the bishop's functions by certain fixed rules is as ancient
as the office qf a bishop. There is as much of venerable antiquity
in the custom of making laws for bishops, as there is in making
bishops themselves. It may be safely affirmed, that, since the days
of the apostles, they never were left with no guide but their own
discretion. A law, indeed, cannot be made wholly to prevent a
bishop from doing a bishop's appropriate duty ; but the history of
the Church is full of legislation to regulate the mode in which he
shall perform that duty." — The Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawks, on the Con
stitution and Canons. Canon xxvi. pp. 257-8.
In accordance with what is here stated, surely the most dutiful
presbyter would be justified in declining compliance with any re
quirement of his diocesan, which, according to his conscientious
belief, was wrong and of dangerous precedent, and also of conse
quence enough to warrant him in bringing on himself and his
Church the results ; or if there was a conviction that the manner
of the requirement was illegal, and that the illegality was of the
same consequence as in the preceding instance.
The present case, however, it is unhappily not to be forgotten,
does not stand upon your last letter of the 24th ultimo, nor is it to be
regarded independently of previous episcopal acts. Even the
apostle Paul, (Acts xvi. 37,) after he had been " beaten openly, un-
condemned," at Philippi, was not willing to be "thrust out privily."

408 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1847.
In view of his ignominious treatment, without a trial, without an
opportunity to plead his privilege, or make his defence, he did not
choose to go away, or abandon his ground, as Thomas Scott re
marks, " in an underhand manner, and with the imputation of hav
ing deserved such punishment, but he required to be honorably dis
charged." There may be cases, says the same homely but honest
commentator, when it will be proper for the servants of Christ to
claim the protection of the laws against oppression, not from vin
dictive feeling, but as being most conducive to public justice, the
peace of the Church, and the credit of their profession. It is
deeply to be regretted that you have connected my reputation with
terms of the deepest reproach for the matters in question without
any previous presentation or canonical proceedings against me for
any offence whatever, without a trial, and uncondemned by any
tribunal known to our system. Under these circumstances, it will
be perceived why I cannot, with any show of reason or justice, at
this late day, and as a mere matter of form, be expected " privily "
to abandon my ground. I cannot thus voluntarily subject myself
to the imputation of having deserved that severe and open censure,
never yet openly revoked, or expose myself to the construction of
admitting a bishop's power virtually to inflict sentence of condem
nation on his clergy without a trial. Of such a course as this, at
once " violating the established rights of the parochial clergy, and
overturning a fixed principle of our ecclesiastical polity," the opinion
of the distinguished canonist whom 1 have already quoted is strikingly
full and forcible. " Now we say, that, under our system of govern
ment, a bishop has no right, directly or indirectly, to try a clergyman.
It will be a sad day for the Church when the clergy,
without the intervention of triers of their own order, may be tried :
and condemned by the bishop alone. The smallest approach to
such an encroachment should be promptly resisted. It is of vast
importance for the well being of the Church to preserve their just
rights to that large body of real operatives, the parochial clergy.
Power always passes, slowly and silently, and without much notice,
from the hands of the many to the few, and all history shows that
ecclesiastical domination grows up by little and little. Give to bish
ops a right, without a formal trial by their peers, virtually to condemn
presbyters in one case, and it will surely come to pass that the day
will be seen when precedent will be cited for it in all cases. . . .
The overwhelming tyranny from which the reformation freed the
Protestant Church grew up by this paulatim process." — The Rev.
Dr. F. L. Hawks on the Constitution and Canons. (Canon xlii. pp.
364-5.) If there be aught of authority in this voice of eloquent
warning, I cannot but think that it puts the question at issue be
tween us at rest. It will no longer seem strange that, as I did on
a former occasion, so I do now, once more, respectfully decline

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 409
involving myself in any pledges beyond those of my ordination, and
over and above the duties put upon me by the Church. It will also
be perceived, that on the general principles for the sake of vvhich I
have suffered these last tvvo years, and which I have more largely
dwelt upon in our previous correspondence, I am solemnly bound to
withstand the right to demand them.
I ought not to conclude without observing, that it was our en
deavor so to order our new place of worship that it might not be
open to your former objections. That part of the -chancel within
the rails of the altar is, of course, reserved for its appropriate sac
ramental solemnities. On the space without, it has been our pur
pose to offer, daily, the other portions of that true and laudable
service which our branch of the Church seems to contemplate and
direct, however neglected by modern usage. In these respects our
ministrations are mainly conformed to those which at present obtain
in the Church of the Holy Communion, in the city of New York ;
and I venture to enclose with this so much of the Rev. Dr. Muhlen
berg's excellent pastoral tract on postures in prayer, as may serve,
in some measure, to explain and vindicate our own.
Very faithfully, Yours, " in the holy office of priesthood,"
W. CROSWELL.
Rev. Manton Eastbukn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts.

1848

" With a grateful sense of all God's mercies, we enter upon the
beginning of another year, which we hope to spend as we should
desire if we knew it to be our last." Thus does he commence the
correspondence of the new year, and, after filling his sheet with
miscellaneous matter, he closes with the " salutations of the season."
But even before this letter had been sent to the post office, he had
occasion to express his devout gratitude to God for a special mercy,
in giving him a second daughter. This took place on the 3d of
January ; and he had it in his power to announce that both mother
and child were doing well. " We h'ave had," he says, " sundry
choice gifts for the new year, but this is the most precious of all."
At the same time, his parochial relations were fair and prosperous.
It is true, that the expense of repairing and fitting up their new
place of worship had involved the parish in a considerable debt ;
and in his anxiety to see this encumbrance removed, the thought had
occurred to him, that some aid might be sought from the friends of
52

410 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
the enterprise in other dioceses. Writing to a lay gentleman in
New York, on whose friendship and generosity, as well as sound
judgment, he knew he could rely, he says, "The expenses of the
repairs have, of course, exceeded the estimates. It comes heavily
upon the few who have made the whole outlay of the purchase, and
I am most anxious to relieve them of a portion of it. I have been
reluctant to consent to applications to our friends abroad for assist
ance ; nor would I do so now, but I think it right to let them
know that a little aid in this emergency would be most seasonable.
If you could tell me how I could raise a thousand dollars in New
York, without asking for it, you would do me a great favor." But
on further reflection, and after receiving advices from this excellent
friend, he changed his mind, and wrote again, acknowledging the
correctness of his views, and adding, " In truth, I have from the
first resisted the idea, as unworthy of being entertained by Boston
churchmen, of receiving foreign aid in our local enterprises ; and,
indeed, I have taken the ground with regard to all applications from
abroad for erecting churches, that every community must provide its
own place of worship, and that, if a missionary failed to inspire suffi
cient enthusiasm to induce the faithful to gather to divine offices under
such a shelter as a barn could give them, his labors must evidently
have been in vain, and it would be an intimation of the will of Provi
dence that his tent must be pitched elsewhere. I have been willing
that our operations should be tried by this test, and I am sure they
will abide it. From the warm sympathies, however, manifested in
our behalf, from the first, and from the encouragement vvhich our
visiting friends from New York and elsewhere had held out, there
have been some who were sanguine that we had but to hold out our
dish to have it filled even to running over. I am not sure that I
have escaped blame in some quarters for my remissness in availing
myself of such supposed facilities. Under these circumstances,
when* the pressure came rather heavily upon a few, I wrote as I did
to you, and am very glad that the tenor of your reply confirms all
the views which I have so often expressed. In the mean while,
Hercules, or rather some more Christian power, has put his shoulder
to the wheel, and the whole sum necessary to complete the pur
chase of the property has been raised, chiefly within ourselves, be
sides the necessary funds for repairs. ... In this respect we
begin to realize how one individual example of generous zeal pro
duces many like minded. I trust, in this way, you have yourself
been instrumental of more good than you can measure, in the
Church at large, and that, multiplying and reflected in all directions,
you will live to see the whole glowing around you like a constella
tion. . . . Every thing looks very encouragingly. The
church is well attended, the ordinances honored, Sunday school
flourishing, the wants of the poor provided for, the support liberal,

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 411
the sympathy of the brethren at large lively. Those of the city
clergy who have attempted to gird us in with a wall of fire, and
compel us to unworthy terms of fellowship and exchange, will find
that there are more with us than against us. I have commenced a
series of exchanges, and shall probably find no difficulty in obtain
ing the reciprocation of services with almost every clergyman of
character and standing in this part of the diocese. Many of the
best of them would be glad if it were in their power to adopt the
same arrangements." After urging his friend to employ his influ
ence in favor of free sittings and the restoration of the daily ser
vice, as the privilege of Christ's people, he adds, " I never was so
clear and so happy in my convictions, that this is according to the
divine will and the primitive order of the Church. The Lord Bisliop
of Fredericton will consecrate no church in his diocese in which the
sittings are not free ; and I believe that he has already consecrated
some twenty on these terms." Writing to his father on the same
subject, he says, " Our prospects look more encouraging than
when I wrote last ; I mean financially, for in every other respect
they are all that the most sanguine friend could desire.
We can see our way clear for the payment of every cent, with the
exception of the mortgage of ten thousand dollars under which we
took the building, and we shall endeavor gradually to wear that
away likewise. This has been accomplished, thus far, without a
cent of assistance from abroad, and with all sorts of antagonistic
influences round about us." After speaking of the hostilities pur
sued by the bishop and his partisans, including repeated assaults in
the columns of the " Witness," he adds, " In the mean while, I am
regularly invited to meet the settled clergy once a fortnight, as they
assemble at each other's houses in rotation. I have continued to
decline these overtures for several sufficient reasons, which it is not
necessary to mention in detail. I never affected these little coteries
of associationists, and it is no great privation."
But few items of general interest are to be drawn from his cor
respondence of this period. He always speaks gratefully of the
well being of his family ; and on the 15th of February thus notes
the baptism of his little daughter on the previous Sunday : " In
the afternoon, the venerable Dr. Eaton received ' Susan ' into the
bosom of the Church by holy baptism." And on the 13th of
March he speaks thus of a portrait for vvhich he had been sitting :
" Brackett has about finished my portrait. I have sat but seven
or eight times, at my convenience, and he has not been exorbitant
in his demands on my patience. I saw it for the first time to-day.
It seems to me to be quite remarkable. The style is very good —
subdued and grave ; the dress simple — no canonicals ; the face
thoughtful. I should have reason to be satisfied with it as a like
ness, and it is so'pronounced by those who have as yet been allowed

412 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
to see it." A copy of this picture was afterwards presented to his
parents by the kind friend under whose patronage it was painted.
It was highly valued, at the time, as a most faithful portrait ; and
now that the living original is no more to be seen on earth, it is
held as an inestimable relic.
Having now prepared another class for confirmation, he entered
into the following correspondence with his bishop : —
Boston, April 4, 1848.
Right reverend and dear Sir : I trust to be prepared to pre
sent several candidates for confirmation, whenever you shall think
proper to make an appointment for that purpose. If consistent
with your other engagements to name any time towards the close
of the month, it will be most agreeable to me.
It is hardly necessary for me to repeat, that, on occasion of epis
copal visitation, the arrangements for worship at the Church of the
Advent are submitted entirely to your own direction.
Very sincerely, your faithful presbyter,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Dr. Eastburn, Bishop of Massachusetts. Tremont Street, April 5, 1848.
Reverend and dear Sir : As I do not feel myself at liberty,
for reasons well known to you, to visit your church for the purpose
of administering confirmation, according to the request contained
in your note of yesterday, I beg to say, that I shall hold confirma
tions, during the present month, in the following churches : —
Sixth Sunday in Lent, in the morning, at Grace Church, Boston ;
and at the place of worship of the Church of the Messiah in the
afternoon. Easter day, at St. Paul's, Boston, in the afternoon ; and at Christ
Church in the evening.
After Easter day, I shall be absent from the city, as you are
probably aware, on every Sunday until the fifth after Easter.
It will give me great pleasure to administer the " laying on of
hands " to such candidates as you may present to me on any one
of the four occasions above named. I leave the selection entirely
to yourself. Meanwhile, I am, very sincerely, yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. Dr. Croswell, Rector of the Church of the Advent, Boston.
Boston, April 12, 1848.
Right reverend and dear Sir : In declining to administer con
firmation at the Church of the Advent, I cannot but think that you
are continuing to do us a great wrong. I feel bound, therefore, to

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 413
continue my solemn remonstrance against it, aud also against the
inference, that, in submitting to it thus far, I intend to waive any
canonical ground of objection. Under this protest, I beg to apprise
you, that, from my long and interesting connection with the ancient
parish of Christ Church, I am inclined to regard your appointment
for that place as least open to exception, and propose to present my
candidates accordingly, should the rector permit, on Easter Sunday
evening. Faithfully, your presbyter,
W. CROSWELL.
To the Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts.
Accordingly, the following correspondence took place with the
rector of Christ Church : — Boston, April 12, 1848.
To Reverend John Woart,
Rector of Christ Church, Boston.
Reverend and dear Sir : Of the churches in the city in which I
am allowed by our bishop to present my candidates for confirma
tion, you can readily conceive by what associations I am led to
name Christ Church, when excluded from my own. It seems to be
my duty, first, however, to obtain your permission for what might
otherwise be considered as an encroachment on the rights of pres
byters and parishes ; and I wish to assure you, that the movement
is involuntary on my part, and I disclaim all responsibility for it.
Very truly, yours,
W. CROSWELL.
The Reverend Doctor Croswell.
Reverend and dear Brother : It will be perfectly agreeable to me
to have you present your candidates for confirmation to the bishop
this year at our church. You can make such communication to
Bishop Eastburn, if you desire it ; and when the time is fixed, I
should like to know it, as I shall endeavor to be present.
Very truly, your friend and brother,
JOHN WOART.
Bedford Street, April 13, 1848. Bedford Street, April 19, 1848.
Reverend and dear Brother: I have appointed a quarter
past seven as the time of service at Christ Church, next Sunday
evening. You will be notified by the sexton, or by some other
person at the door, which pews are to be occupied by your candi
dates.

414 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
As to the service on such occasions, I usually refer every thing
to the bishop, the reading of the prayers, <fcc, &c.
Affectionately, in Christ, your friend and brother,
JOHN WOART.
The Rev. Dr. Croswell.
Having thus again submitted, under protest, to the bishop's un
reasonable dictation, he had only to proceed, patiently and dili
gently, in his daily duties, and in preparing his class for the ensuing
solemnity. A few brief sketches from his " Words of Days," and
other memoranda, will show how he was occupied during the dis
tinguished week, commonly called Passion week, which preceded
the great festival of Easter.
" Sunday next before Easter, April 16. Rector at Sunday
school with Rev. Dr. Eaton. . . . Rector baptized an adult,
and preached on the supper at Bethany, as introductory to the ser
vices of the week. P. M., baptized seven children. Preached on
the triumphal entry of Christ into Jerusalem. After service, per
formed funeral solemnities in the church.
"Monday, April 17. Morning service by rector, assisted by Rev.
Dr. Eaton and Rev. Mr. Pollard. A few remarks on the service
made by the rector. Evening service by the same. Sermon by
rector : ' They shall look on Him whom they have pierced.'
" Tuesday, April 18. Morning service as yesterday. Short
commentary by rector -on service and the twenty-second Psalm.
Evening service by the same. Sermon by the rector, on 'the
cleansing of the temple.' Large congregation.
"Wednesday, April 19. Morning service as before. Remarks
on treachery of Judas. Evening service by rector ; also the ser
mon, on the Lord's supper. The choir in attendance at every
service this week. Music very solemn and impressive.
" Thursday, April 20. Morning service by rector and Messrs.
E. and P. Sermon by rector, on ' Gethsemane.' At evening ser
vice, Mr. P. assisted rector in prayers. Rector preached on char
acter and warning of Pilate.
" Good Friday, April 21. Morning prayer by Rev. Mr. P. The
rest by the rector, assisted by Rev. Dr. E., in the epistle. Rector
preached : ' Behold the Lamb of God.' Large congregation.
Music very touching. Evening service at half past seven. Prayers
by Rev. Mr. P. Lessons, psalter, and sermon on the penitent
thief, by the rector.
" Easter even, April 22. Morning service by rector and Rev.
Messrs. E. and P. Sermon by rector, on the holy women resting
according to the commandment. After service, baptized two adults.
At evening service, rector and Rev. Mr. P. officiated. Sermon by
rector, on ' burial of Christ.' Baptized two persons.

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 415
" Easter day, April 23, —
' Sweet day, so calm, so soft, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky.'
At Sunday school, Rev. Dr. E. officiated. Morning service by rec
tor, assisted by Rev. Dr. E. Rector preached : ' The Lord is risen
indeed.' Very large congregation and communion. In the after
noon, rector read service, Dr. E. assisting, and preached : ' Christ
our Passover,' <fec. After service, distributed books to the children,
provided as an Easter gift by the liberality of a parishioner. Can
didates for confirmation assembled at church at half past six o'clock.
Walked to the house of God called Christ Church, in company.
Rector assisted Rev. Mr. Woart in the evening service, and read
preface to the confirmation office. Twenty candidates presented by
the rector. Church very full."
It is further mentioned, as a significant fact, that while the rector
of the Advent presented his twenty candidates, the rector of Christ
Church, after an interval of tvvo years, presented but nine ; and
that, at the recent confirmations in St. Paul's and Trinity, there
were but seven presented in each church. It is also stated, as a
gratifying circumstance, that the late governor of New Brunswick,
Sir William Colebrook, and suite, attended the service and com
munion at the Advent in the morning, and did not go to the " Ca
thedral " (Trinity) until afternoon. In a subsequent letter, he says,
" I was favored with an interview with Sir William Colebrook and
lady, last week, and was much delighted with their simple and un
assuming manners. Lady Colebrook is particularly devoted to the
Church, aud has been as attentive at our daily service as her health
will allow."
To show in what estimation his recent services were held by his
parishioners, it seems proper to transcribe a portion of a note from
one of his most confidential friends of the laity, to whom he had
loaned his late correspondence with the bishop : —
• " Though so many days have passed since Passion week, I can
not return these papers without telling you of the great numbers in
your parish who have spoken of you, in connection with the ser
vices of that week and of the preceding and succeeding Mondays,
with warm gratitude. One gentleman, in particular, asked me why
I would not let you know what we all felt. It seemed to many of
us as if God must have helped you in an especial manner to go
through such labors with so earnest and unwearied a spirit. It
surely will be blessed to you, in its influences on your people. For
myself, in particular, I beg you to accept my most hearty thanks."
The following letter is worthy of a place in the record of the

416 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
Lenten services of this year, especially as it presents, in so true a
light, the spirit in which he desired to cultivate intercourse with his
clerical brethren, and labor in his divine Master's cause. Those
who characterized William Croswell as a formalist, or a man of
extreme and exclusive views in the Churcri, could have done s<,
only through ignorance or malice. The Rev. Dr. Baury, to whom
the letter is addressed, has served the Church in Massachusetts too
long and too faithfully to allow his position to be questioned. It
is hardly necessary to say, that the request was readily complied
with. Boston, March 13, 1848.
Reverend and dear Brother : We have commenced a course
of Lent lectures at our church, in connection with the Wednesday
and Friday evening services, (at five o'clock,) in sustaining which
several of the neighboring clergy have been kind enough to unite.
I feel greatly the need of brotherly aid and countenance, next to
the supporting grace of God.
While we value the services of any of our brethren, without
respect of persons or party, at such time, it would be especially
grateful to enjoy those of the elder clergy of the diocese, faithful
and true, with whom it has been our privilege for many years to
walk to the house of God as friends.
If you could make it convenient to be in town on either of those
evenings during the season, and could name the time in the course
of the week (so as to prevent its conflicting with arrangements yet
to be made with the other clergy) on which you would give us a
word in season, I should be very much obliged.
You are aware that no constraint of conscience is attempted,
with regard to doctrine, posture, or vestment. Plain, practical
preaching is what is most needed with us, as every where.
Yours, in haste, but affection,
W. CROSWELL.
The Rev. Aljfred L. Baurt,
Rector of St. Mary's Church, Newton Lower Falls, Mass.
After Easter, he dispensed with the services of his assistant, the
Rev. Mr. Pollard, and took upon himself the entire duties of the
parish, including three services on each Sunday, and daily morning
and evening prayers. But he was seldom alone in the performance
of these services. The Rev. Dr. Eaton always stood ready to
rendef him any aid in his power, and he frequently enjoyed the
further assistance of his visiting brethren. At this time, his general
health was very good ; but he began to suffer great inconvenience
from a local difficulty, which continued during the remainder of his
life, and which was probably the precursor of the malady which

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 417
finally proved fatal. This was an involuntary spasmodic or convul
sive motion of the facial muscles, and for a few seconds at each
return distorted the eye and the mouth, and proved a serious em
barrassment in the performance of his public services. It was also
peculiarly troublesome "when he was engaged in exciting conversa
tion. He was advised to avoid, as far as possible, all close applica
tion to study, and to take as much out-of-doors' exercise and recre
ation as his duties would permit. He only allowed himself time,
however, to make a few short visits to his paternal home during the
season ; the first, with all his family, in the month of June, and
another at the time of the commencement of Trinity College. This
last was an exciting occasion. He had been appointed by the House
of Convocation, at their meeting in the preceding year, to deliver a
poem before the convocation at this commencement. From the
first, he shrunk almost intuitively from this task. Under the inter
dict of his physicians, and amid all his absorbing occupations, he
felt that the preparation of such a poem would be altogether too
formidable a task upon his powers. He had other reasons, also, as
will be perceived from the subjoined extracts from his correspond
ence, for wishing to decline ; and hence he endeavored to excuse
himself from the undertaking. He immediately addressed a note
to Richard H. Dana, Esq., who had been named as a " substitute,"
in case of his failure, in which he says, " I see, by the Calendar,
that the ' Trinitarians ' have had the presumption to name you as a
1 substitute ' for a poet, and — Heaven save the mark ! — that poet
me. If I thought that you could be induced to entertain the idea, —
and, for the sake of the Church and the college, it is to be desired
greatly, — I would gladly stand out of your way." But it would
seem that Mr. Dana was not disposed either to interfere or come
to his relief. As the time approached, he felt more and more un
equal to the task of preparation ; and hence, writing to his father
during the session of the diocesan convention, he says, " As soon
as the convention is over, I shall inform the scribe of the House of
Convocation that I shall be obliged to decline the poem at Trinity.
My face has got to twitching at a troublesome rate ; and the doctor
says I must not think too intently, nor apply myself to the pen
My daily cares are about all that I am equal to. Besides this, 1
have greater and greater misgivings of the lawfulness of holding
these exercises in consecrated places of worship, especially when
a necessity is involved of building platforms over the place of the
most sacred mysteries. In these respects, it is time that judgment
began at the house of God. The sessions of our ecclesiastical con
ventions, even, I regard as among the worst kinds of profanation ;
much more, the academical." He wrote accordingly. " But," he
says in a subsequent letter, " they will not take no for an answer.
So I must .keep at work." And, finally, on the 25th of July, he
53

418 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
writes, " You see that I am gazetted as laureate at Trinity, next
week ; and, though much unwritten poetry remains to be developed
before I shall be ready, I shall probably be on hand."
Of the poem thus reluctantly prepared he entertained a very
mean opinion. He declined furnishing a copy for publication, and
the original manuscript is nowhere to be found complete. The
only copy in the possession of his biographer (such as it is) was
made by another hand, without his approbation, and it bears this
indorsement, made by his own hand : " A wretched copy of as
wretched a doggerel." The poem certainly was composed and
delivered under many disadvantages ; but this judgment of his is
too severe. He seemed to have a mind too much occupied with his
many duties, to find the quiet which yielded his best inspiration as
an author. The laborious duties of his parish, with a daily morning
and evening service, and such other cares as came upon him, ab
solutely prevented him from finding the time to write it out with
any care. He informed one of his most intimate friends, who, after
it had been delivered, asked to see it, that it was not in a legible
condition ; that he had composed and written a considerable portion
of it in the cars, after he left Boston for Hartford to attend the
commencement ; that there was a great want of connection between
different parts ; and that the versification was very imperfect. Great
allowances, it is granted, must be made for his health, and other
circumstances, some of which have been mentioned, and others of
which cannot be properly introduced ; yet, while it is admitted that
their disadvantageous influences may be traced in the poem, it is
thought by many that they tended quite as strongly to unfit him to
exercise a candid judgment upon its merits. If the object of this
memoir were solely or chiefly to perpetuate his reputation as a
poet, there would be more occasion to doubt an editor's right to use
this manuscript with any freedom. When, however, he rose to
perform his appointed duty in the convocation of Trinity College,
he had it in mind to discharge a higher duty also. He stooped, as
it were, to veil in rhyme an argument which would, perhaps, have
commanded the attention of fewer persons, had he brought it forward
in solid prose. " A verse may find him who a sermon flies."
Mindful of this, rather than not to speak his mind where he felt a
word was so much needed, he chose to speak it in a manner vvhich
it seems was so distasteful to himself. This argument in its tone
and aim is so thoroughly in harmony with his character, that a
faithful biographer cannot pass it by without some special notice.
The excuse made for printing some part of it is, however, one
rather to his memory than to the reader. The whole poem is quite

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 419
as good as most of those productions to which similar occasion.-;
give rise. To those who are familiar with its local and personal
allusions, it might probably seem to claim the first place. But those
parts the biographer has for the most part suppressed, from a con
sciousness that with other readers they might leave an unfair im
pression of the poem. The " poem " may be said to be a metrical
essay on the reverence due to sacred places and holy things, and an
exhortation to the cultivation of such reverence, especially in the
Church and its academical and collegiate institutions. His own
feelings on the misuse of churches for commencement exercises
have just been quoted from a letter ; they appear more at large in
the poem. The poem is too irregular to allow an analysis ; but, by
way of explanation of some allusions, it may be said, that in the
beginning he takes his audience back to their early college life,
mingling these reminiscences with alternate touches of wit and
pathos. Being a graduate at Yale, — the alma mater of a large part
of the members of Trinity College House of Convocation, — his
references are naturally turned to that place ; and recalling the por
traits in the Philosophic Hall, thus speaks of one of Yale's ancient
patrons : — There first we gazed on the serene expanse
Of Berkeley's bright and heavenly countenance,
And could not but contrast it, in our sport,
With thy pinched visage, prick-eared Davenport ;
Nor queried, as we turned to either face,
Which were the real genius of the place.
Taught, in a brother's words, to love in thee
" Earth's every virtue, writ in poesy ; "
O Berkeley, as I read, with moistened eyes,
Of thy sublime but blasted enterprise,* —
Refusing, in thy pure, unselfish aim,
To sell to vulgar wealth a founder's fame,
But in thy fervor sacrificing all
To objects worthy of the name of Paul, —
What joy to see in our official line
A faith revived, identical with thine ;
Pledged to fulfil the spirit of thy scheme,
And prove thy college no ideal dream.
And when, on yonder walls, we now survey
The man " whose grace chalked his successor's way,"
And study, Samuel, thy majestic head,
By Berkeley's son to heaven's anointing led,
And see the ways of Providence combine
The gentle bishop with the masculine,
* St. Paul's College, Bermuda.

420 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
We pray this noblest offspring of thy see
May honor Berkeley, nor dishonor thee.
And join with these those master minds of yore
Who loved their college much, but conscience more, —
Cutler and Johnson, — whom one rigorous day
Drove out from Yale, a voluntary prey,
To reap at once by Cam and Isis' side
The honors which maternal scorn denied.
Though it might well provoke their reverend smiles
To think of rivalling those immortal piles ;
Yet, as aspiring over sect and clique,
To follow all that made them catholic,
If they were here from Christ Church chimes afar,
To-day, as Cutler's two successors are,*
They would have prayed, dear Trinity, to see
" No drought on others, but much dew on thee."
He then discusses the adaptation of architecture to its true
intent ; and after noticing some anomalies, such as the common use
of the model of the holy sepulchre for railroad engine houses, in
vokes better things for Trinity College : —
Harvard and Yale have both revived the style
And antique grandeur of some fine old pile.
Those solemn towers — how beautiful they stand,
Like mighty minsters of our fatherland !
But not, alas ! for worship ; though their looks
Be so cathedral like, they hold but books ;
The form, without the spirit, each retains —
The vizard of the fable without brains.
And so they sever piety from art,
Addressing more the intellect than heart.
Not to resist the truism of the hour,
We freely grant that knowledge may be power ;
But on our knees, and not on alcoved shelves,
We find, through God, the knowledge of ourselves.
But far from such unholy sights as these
The hopes that haunt our sacred reveries :
In yonder hall there yet is room to spare
For store of books — would that the books were there !
But if, indeed, the love of letters hold
Its place, as handmaid to the faith of old,
* Rev. Drs. Eaton and Croswell.

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 421
And we would have that favored site to be,
Above all others, " fair exceedingly,"
Let Wheaton plan, like this, another shrine
For purposes exclusively divine ;
Not York Cathedral, " on a smaller scale,"
And " much improved where the dark ages fail ; "
Nor yet King's College Chapel, that " immense
And glorious work of fine intelligence ;"
But "all we can — high Heaven disdains the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more."
There, with the stony archwork overhead,
Beneath our feet the ashes of the dead,
And monumental effigies around,
The soul might wander as in holy ground,
And feel a soft religious sadness brood,
Deepening the spirit of its quietude.
There let the sun " salute with his first smile
Our holiest symbol crowning the dear pile ; "
And be the power of architecture shown
To lift the Athanasian creed in stone.
Within, a tempered light, like sunset skies,
Let glimmerings of a thousand gorgeous dyes
Shed streaming down from every pictured pane,
Their rainbow glories round the vaulted fane,
And through the window o'er the altar fling
The heaven-hued symbols in enamelling.
" And beams thus hallowed through the scenes they pass
Tell on the floor their parable of glass."
There let the organ and the strain devout
Make every stone in sympathy cry out,
Like some harmonious fabric of the Lord's,
" Whose vaults are shells, and pillars tuneful chords."
There let the surpliced priests in order stand —
And why not white-robed choirs on either hand ?
If this be too extravagant a pitch,
(Alas ! that our endowments are not rich,)
Still, " what we can." Let us contend, at least,
For daily service and the vested priest ;
And let the season blend, in fixed career,
The Christian and the academic year ;
Be music carried to the full extent
Allowed by ancient choral precedent ;
And let the students' welLtrained voices swell
Each hoary laud, time-honored canticle,
Which England, purged from superstition's stain,
Resumed among her earliest rites again.

422 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
Hark ! how the strains, increasing far and wide,
Rise from Gejxeva * and from Riverside !f
Like deep to deep the billowy anthem calls,
From far Nashotah to her own St. Paul's,
And rings through her affiliated halls.
Vale of the Cross, as gentle shepherds tell,
Such sounds are heard in thy secluded dell ;
From Corbin's grot the selfsame chant is raised,
And " daily prayer is made, and daily is He praised."
Perhaps it is not scandal to compare
Such courts with that amphibious place of prayer,
(Contrived, like Goldsmith's chest, two debts to pay —
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day,)
Where now a while in worship we engage,
Then knights and squires shall enter on the stage,
Which, for a time, a meeting house is made,
And then it glitters in a masquerade.
Four years I saw the central aisle divide
The rows of rising seats on either side,
Where double choirs, ward over against ward,
Might sing responsive praises to the Lord.
But not so these : while yet the tutor reads,
The muster master's busy work proceeds.
In due obeisance every head was bent
Upon the entering of the president,
But held it superstitious for the free
At Jesus' name to bow the lowly knee.
And scarce the echoes died of prayer and praise,
Before the youths declaimed or spouted plays.
These are the ways which in our western climes
Make the " men-children of these forward times ; "
Of whom old Drydren said, so long ago,
" But seven wise men the ancient world did know,
We scarce know seven that think themselves not so."
Against these evils let the Church commence
Her sure protection, and her " cheap defence."
Though worldly cares have chilled devotion's flame,
Here let our needs a daily homage claim ;
Here let our prayers like morning incense rise,
Our lifted hands like evening sacrifice ;
Devotion's debt at morn and eve to pay,
And magnify our Savior day by day.
* Hobart Free College, at Geneva, New York.
t The seat of Bishop Doane, at BurUngton, New Jersey.

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 423
In order these great objects to secure,
All must be first begun in miniature ;
And if a while your patience will but bear
With these plain couplets, I will tell you where

Tlds is the place and time ; at once begin
Here to restore the ancient discipline ;
Adopt the Church's homogeneous plan
To make the boy the father of the man ;
Where, in their due development, appear
The blade, the ear, the full corn in the ear,
And making good the old proverbial line,
Just as the twig is bent, the trees incline.
Let every pupil with his sapling aid
To fill the grounds with shrubbery and shade ;
Plant oaks and " elms, those undissenting trees,"
That grow not fast, but thrive for centuries ;
Beneath whose shadow, ages hence, our heirs
May bless our forethought, and take thought for theirs.
And let the English ivy, high and thick,
Conceal the tame monotony of brick —
Amid the snows of winter evergreen,
From summer suns a most refreshing screen.
Nor would my scheme reject the dining hall,
Where what was meant for one was meant for all ;
Such as it was of old, when common food
Was made a bond of Christian brotherhood,
And each might wait, and of his Savior learn
" To be as him that serveth," in his turn.
But first of all erect a chapel there,
And join at morn and eve in common prayer ;
If means be wanting, take yon upper room,
And teach the light to counterfeit the gloom ;
Then, chastening down the gaudy light of day,
Subdue the thoughts bewildered with their play,
And let the organ add its soothing sway.
Set up the holy altar there, and trail
Their young affections round the chancel pale ;
Purging the taint of heresy and schism
By constant portions of the catechism.
In open view, let none regard the floor
Too low when prostrate mortals would adore,
But duly raise, upon their bended knees,
The full response of ancient litanies ;

424 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
Invoke their Savior in his Church's voice,
And in his eucharistic hymns rejoice.
The pointed Psalter, printed in their heart,
There let them learn to bear their tuneful part,
Drilled on the cadence of that thrilling scale
Which, caught from seraphs, must o'er earth prevail.
So shall the watered seed spring up, and so
Children of grace to giant stature grow.
Nor let us see that holy place within
A priest " with broadcloth buttoned to his chin."
Holmes writes, " Heaven needs no surplice ; " as if he
Thought Heaven was pleased when men dressed slovenly.
Heaven needeth not man's wisdom, but much less
It needeth any of man's foolishness.
If this be superstition, may we be
All guilty of it in the first degree.
Remembering thus Jerusalem in his mirth,
Sweet Herbert found his very heaven on earth ;
And Milton tells,* as Milton only can,
What there he learned — poor, superstitious man !
O, on yon slope, may some such towers arise
As plumed his wings sublime for paradise ;
Where, in our day, due feet might never fail,
Like his, to walk the studious cloisters' pale,
And love, like him, the high embowered roof
Resting on antique pillars, massy proof,
And catch through storied windows richly dight
A dim, religious, " superstitious " light :
There may we hear the pealing organ blow
To full-voiced choirs, antiphonal, below,
In that same service high, and anthems clear,
As oft with sweetness through his charmed ear
Dissolved great Milton's self to ecstasies,
And brought all heaven before his raptured eyes.
And yet another tabernacle rear
For such occasions as have brought us here ;
Above the stir and din of mangling mart,
Beside the ancient passage of the Hart,!
Let faitli and fancy help to give to fame
" A local habitation and a name."
Beneath the dogstar and midsummer heat,
Let no procession through the burning street,
With tasselled cap and academic gown,
Exposed to the annoyance of the town,
* II Penseroso.
t The name of the river by which the college grounds are bounded.

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 425
Like needless alexandrine in the song,
Or wounded snake, trail its slow length along ;
Pavilioned, if it need be, in a tent,
Until some Wickham makes it permanent;
Or cloistered where o'erarching boughs have made
Refreshing contiguity of shade ;
There let us gather, where no sounds intrude
To break the silence of the solitude
Save song of native birds, or piercing scream
Of railroad engine clattering o'er the stream.
If we must have processions, let them pass
When shadows lie the longest on the grass ;
And for this martial music, let there be
Such chants as floated down the sylvan Dee —
The " Miserere mei, Domine."
And let the bell in yonder humble tower
Wake dewy silence at an earlier hour,
And usher in, betimes, the festal day
" With merry peal and changeful roundelay "
Thus in the morning, far from Babel's dust,
These August days might yet be days august,
And words of power the place might glorify,
Which willingly the world would not let die.
There Dana might, in happiest mood, rehearse
Some last great effort of his deathless verse ;
Or Irving, like Arcadian, might beguile
The golden hours with his melodious style ;
Or he who takes no second living rank
Among the classics of the Church — Verplanck ;
Or he whose course " right onward " here begun,
Now sheds its brightness over Burlington,
(Where our young sons like noble saplings grow,
And daughters like the polished pillars show,)
And with the elder worthies, join the throng
Of young adventurers for the prize of song.
My heart upbraids me, friends, with double wrong,
While I inflict and you endure the song.
Were we indeed in earnest, and sincere,
When we professed that heaven's high gate was here,
And set apart forever, day and night,
These solemn courts for old liturgic rite ?
Then we must sure be wrong ; we greatly err
Who use the church worse than the theatre,
And, like false Israel, our high places raise
As scaffolds on our sacrificing days ;
54

426 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
Where one at least, poor victim of his kind,
If not as strong as Samson, yet as blind,
Comes sadly forth, to make Philistines sport,
And immolate himself in Dagon's court ;
Content if but the sacrifice should tend
To bring these gross abuses to an end.
Pardon thy servant, Lord, if he profane
These hallowed walls with his unworthy strain ;
Forgive this once all that to-day he durst —
His last transgression, as it is his first —
In telling truths which every body knows,
But dare not speak them plainly out in prose ;
And for the future, hear his solemn pledge
To be no party to the sacrilege.
. O, would we teach young scholars reverence,
Let judgment shere begin — take these things hence ;
And doubt it not, His Holy Spirit grieves
To see His house made like a den of thieves ;
To see the stage, the last our graduates trod,
Erected o'er the altar of our God ;
And grave divines upon the platform meet
To tread our holiest things beneath their feet.
This cannot sure be right : we ask to see,
If not perfection, yet consistency.
No wonder, where such profanation dwells,
Our sons emerge precocious infidels.
O, better far, if we can find no hall
For such assembly, to have none at all ;
Or, like the sons of knighthood, take degrees
Before the altar, on our bended knees.
Scarce more disgusting this, when year by year,
With his red flag, comes in the auctioneer ;
Abomination, blazoned on his face,
Stands, where it ought not, in the holy place ;
Where he who sells combines with him who buys
To make God's house a house of merchandise.
Within the sacred altar's rail, or desk,
He lifts his voice in impudent burlesque ;
Lays godless hands upon the Bible lid,
Not to ask blessings, but to ask a bid :
And voices, never heard in time of prayer,
Are emulous in loud responses there.
O, thus, methinks, might Mammon once have stood,
With that same look, and that same attitude,
And bent his downward glances to behold
Heaven's courts inlaid with patins of bright gold,

1848.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 427
And, as the poet tells, admiring more
The trodden wealth of that resplendent floor
Than aught enjoyed of holy or divine,
In vision beatific, at the shrine.
But had that spirit, " least erect," the gift
With which our modern Mammons follow thrift,
He might from his high place have learned to muse
Of parcelling heaven's pure pavement into pews ;
Seen how to make each consecrated floor
Productive gold, that was but wood before ;
Where men have leave in narrow slips to pray,
(If pray they choose,) provided that they pay ;
And do not care to worship on their knees,
But sit, like rows of meal sacks, at their ease.
Unless its title deeds a falsehood tell,
The house of God cannot be man's to sell ;
Much less to turn it, before God and man,
Into a kind of college caravan.
If insincere our gift, and we retain
Part of the price, the gift is worse than vain :
We dare to tempt His ancient people's fate,
Whose house was left unto them desolate ;
And though no gates, like theirs, asunder start,
Nor unseen voices cry, " Let us depart,"
The glory will have vanished, and our God
Have written on its portals, Ichabod.

From this time the distortion of his face became more and more
troublesome, and he felt constrained to curtail his mental labors as
far as practicable ; and even his letters were despatched with un
usual brevity. In addition to this, he was visited, within a short
period, with a very severe domestic affliction. The little daughter
whose birth he had gratefully announced at the opening of the year,
and who had enjoyed up to this time a full measure of health,
now began to betray symptoms of wasting disease. The first inti
mation of the anxiety produced by her case was conveyed to his
father in a hasty note of the 24th September. " It is astonishing,"
he says, " how a few days' illness of this sort will affect a child.
She has quite faded away like a leaf; and unless there be a de
cided change soon, we shall be much discouraged." But a single
day intervened before the fatal result vvas announced. September
26, he writes, " The spirit of our dear little Susan was called away
last night, to be where the souls of those who sleep in the Lord
Jesus enjoy perpetual rest and felicity. It was just as the shades
of evening drew on, and the light of day did not fade more softly.

428 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1848.
She had, indeed, a gentle dismission. She had been perfectly quiet
and easy since morning, and we gazed on her sweet face as if it
were already one of the beatified. I need not say that we feel
acutely ; but we are still and calm, and from the bottom of our
hearts desire to kiss our Father's rod, and bless him for the treasure
now so safely laid up in heaven. Our hopes are cast down. We
trusted she would have grown up in your love and blessing; but it
is better so ; and our only prayer is, that we may be fitted to rejoin
her in worlds where sickness, and death, and parting never come."
October 3, he thus describes the funeral solemnities ; and no apol
ogy is necessary for transcribing these particulars, well knowing
that those will best understand how to receive them who have them
selves suffered the like affliction: "Our dear child — or rather all
of her that was mortal — vvas buried on the feast of St. Michael's,
the services of which were so beautifully appropriate, that the ser
mon of Rev. Mr. Greenleaf, who officiated, seemed to be meant for
a funeral sermon. Every thing was so done as to be very soothing
to our feelings. While she vvas laid out in the chamber, in her
little crib, in one of her baby dresses, which was her only shroud,
with a rosebud in her folded hands, she was, as it were, like one
fallen into a sweet sleep. The expression of her face vvas beauti
ful ; her arms never lost their natural color ; and her grandmother's
silver gift cup, full of the sweetest blossoms and flowers which the
love of friends could select, was at her side. It was a sight which
many came to see and weep over. . . . We had a sort bf bier,
made of a thin board, covered with white. This was carried to
church by four little girls of our Sunday school, dressed in white,
with black visites. The nurse followed, in the same dress ; then
the mourners, in procession, walked to the church. Instead of a
black pall, we used the beautiful white blanket, with its richly-
wrought border, which was presented to her mother, during Mary's
babyhood, at Auburn. It was a lovely sight, divested of all the'
usual dismal accompaniments, and which do not seem to belong to
a case where death appears to have no sting to inflict, except upon
the bosom of survivors." To this he adds, " It vvas at first our in
tention to have left here ou Monday for New Haven, that my wife
and Mary might make you a visit, while I went on to Newark, Bur
lington, &.c. ; but we are not yet quite ready. I have written an
apology to Mr. Watson, and send this, something in the same
spirit." From this letter to Mr. Watson one or two extracts are
made : " I had looked forward with much expectation and interest
to being present with you on the great day of the consecration of
your beautiful church. But the week finds me in great affliction,
from the loss of our infant. . . . And I am laboring under
the effects of a local, nervous infirmity, which all excitement tends
to aggravate, as my medical counsellors advise, and which a scene

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 429
like this to which you invite me would not benefit. I reluctantly,
therefore, send this note of apology, with the assurance, that in a
few weeks I shall hope to see you under more quiet circumstances.
I then expect that my wife, whom I do not like to leave alone just
now, will be able to accompany me as far as my father's, at New
Haven, while I proceed to Newark and Burlington. My health,
meanwhile, is improving here by rest. Several of the younger
brethren have come providentially to my assistance in the time of
my need."
After a few days' delay, the journey here projected was accom
plished ; and, for the remainder of the year, his labors were much
relieved, not only by the voluntary aid of his brethren, but by the
engagement of the Rev. Oliver S. Prescott as his regular assist
ant. Of his complaints in his face, he sometimes writes quite de-
spondingly, and seems to have entertained but little hope of presenf
improvement. In one of his last letters of the year, he says, " My
ailments are much as usual. I am much inclined to let my medi
cines alone, for the present, — our doctors so advise, — and try
bathing, galvanism, riding, and exercise. My health, apart from
this, continues very sound ; and I do not know that it was ever
firmer."

1849.

After this temporary relaxation, he seems to have resumed the
duties of the new year with renovated strength and spirits. His
weekly letters are again regularly despatched ; and he speaks of his
general health as " never better," and expresses a hope that the
"twitching in his face is gradually subsiding." During a short ill
ness of his new assistant, he says, " Happily, I have been free from
any disability, and have carried on the services, with the help of
Mr. Le Baron, the curate of St. Stephen's, and Mr. Prescott's
intimate friend. I preached twice on Sunday, and made an address,
next day, on the Feast of the Circumcision." But while all things
else were thus going on prosperously, he was again compelled to
renew his controversy with his bishop, by contending for what he
considered his fair and legitimate rights. The following is a copy
of the correspondence : — I. Feast of the Epiphany, 1849.
Right reverejstd and dear Sir : In making your appointments
for administering confirmation in the city parishes, this winter, it is

430 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. 849.
my earnest request that this privilege may be extended to the
church of which I am rector, and which is hereby put at your dis
posal for the occasion ; or, if this may not be, that some other op
portunity may be afforded me for presenting our candidates. I
shall endeavor to be prepared, any day, four weeks from date.
With the best wishes of the season,
Very sincerely yours,
W. CROSWELL.
The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts.
II. Tremont Street, January 9, 1849.
Reverend and dear Snt : I have received your note of Satur
day last, and in reply would say, that I will, with divine permission,
administer confirmation to such candidates as you may present to
me, in Christ Church, on the evening of Sexagesima Sunday, Feb
ruary 11. The present evening hour of service is seven, and will,
I suppose, continue for some time to come.
Reciprocating the kind wishes of this joyful season,
I am very truly yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. W. Croswell, D. D. III. Boston, January 13, 1849.
Right reverend and dear Sir : I have to acknowledge the
receipt of your reply of the 9th to my note of the 6th instant, in
which you propose to administer confirmation, in Christ Church, to
such candidates as I may present to you on the evening of Sexa
gesima Sunday, February 11. I had cherished the hope that you
would at length recognize the propriety of making that periodical
visitation to our parish which the rules of the Church contemplate ;
and I alluded to the other alternative solely with a view to avoid
the renewal of an unpleasant controversy. In submitting, however,
once more to the painful necessity which you have imposed upon
me for three successive years, and by which the administration of a
solemn and interesting rite has been deprived of some of its most
endearing personal attractions, I feel it to be my duty to enter my
solemn protest against your refusal to visit the Church of the Ad
vent, as involving a violation of the first section of the twenty-fifth
canon of 1832. A part of this section declares, " It is deemed
proper that such visitations be made once in three years, at least,
by every bishop, to every church within his diocese."
Without entering, at present, upon the question, whether such an
intimation of propriety be not binding upon the bishops, and

1849.1 CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 431
whether it has not " always had in their eyes the force of the most
positive enactments," I content myself with this simple renewal of
my protest ; and, acting under it, will endeavor, by divine permis
sion, to meet your appointment.
Very sincerely, yours, in all duty,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, Bishop of Massachusetts.

IV. Boston, January 13, 1849.
Reverend and dear Sir: The bishop of the diocese has di
rected me to present my candidates for confirmation at Christ
Church, on the evening of Sexagesima Sunday, February 11, at
seven o'clock. Constrained as I am to submit to this requirement,
it is not without a solemn protest, as being in contravention of the
twenty-fifth canon of 1832. If you have any objections to the
proposed arrangement, you will, of course, make them to the
bishop ; and if I hear nothing to the contrary, I shall expect, God
willing, to conform to the bishop's appointment.
Very truly, your friend and brother,
W. CROSWELL.
The Rev. John Woart, Rector of Christ Church.
In conformity with this arrangement, after the full services of the
day at his own church, including a baptism and the instruction of
the Sunday school children, he met some of his candidates in the
evening, and proceeded to Christ Church. Writing on the follow
ing day, he says, " Our confirmation was held last evening, as was
proposed. Several of the candidates were not able to go, through
sickness or other impediment. But we still had twenty — as many,
and more, than could be conveniently accommodated about the
chancel." Two additional candidates were presented by the rector
of Christ Church. But in the midst of the services the gaslight
failed, producing some delay and annoyance, and candles were sub
stituted, two of which were, " most ominously, set upon the altar."
These, however, while the bishop was confirming, were carefully
extinguished by the rector of the church. " The bishop's address,"
he adds, " was very good ; but the sermon, which he intended to de
liver ' from the pulpit,' in consequence of the accident to the lights,
was omitted. It fell to my lot to read the lesson, which was the
second for the evening, according to the calendar, (2 Cor. vii.,)
vvhich you will see to be not altogether inappropriate."
February 26, he writes, " We have entered on our Lenten ser
vices in a good spirit, and I expect that our candidates who received
confirmation so recently will all make their first communion next

432 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849.
Sunday. Our week-day prayers are better attended than usual, and
things in general look very encouraging."
From this time the labors of the season passed on uninterrupt
edly, until the 1 4th of March, when he was unexpectedly summoned
home by a telegraphic despatch, announcing the severe sickness of
his father. After a hasty preparation, he made the journey on the
following day. It is only necessary to cite a few passages from the
letters written to his wife during this visit of filial duty and affec
tion to show the current of his feelings.
March 15, he writes, " Although you have heard by telegraph
that father is better, yet I have not come on prematurely, or any
too soon. I find his situation much according to my fears. The
sore on his leg has obviously had its connection with this attack,
and, though Dr. Skiff has not said so, doubtless makes it danger
ous. On Sunday, as I am told by several of our friends, he
preached with unusual earnestness and animation ; and so, indeed,
as one observes, has he done on the Sundays preceding it, ' making
me feel,' the friend continues, 'as if these were indeed his last
sermons.' After his labors on Tuesday, he came home exhausted,
had a severe chill, and all the symptoms of violent fever. He ap
peared that day and night lethargic and stupid, — brain inert, — a
symptom which much alarmed the doctor. Yesterday, however, he
was more comfortable, and so continues to-day. His head is very
clear and free from pain, and at times to-day he has perspired very
freely. . . . He is very restless, at times, and has scarcely
slept since attacked. He is not entirely without appetite, but takes
a little light nourishment, with some apparent relish." On the fol
lowing morning, he writes, " Father had a restless night, with much
fever, relieved at intervals by profuse perspiration. This morn
ing, however, he is much better than yesterday morning — his
countenance more natural, his tongue freer, his skin moist, his leg
less inflamed, <fec. ... I feel very hopeful, but still regard
him as a very sick man, and by no means out of danger. I can
not, of course, think of coming back at present, and give up the
idea of being, home again before Sunday." He adds, iu a post
script, " I need not say that father's spirit is just what might be
expected in an aged Christian priest at such a crisis."
On Saturday, the 17th, he writes as follows : "lam happy to re
peat that father continues to improve ; that he had a comfortable day
yesterday, and a comparatively comfortable night. The doctor has
been in this morning, and thinks that he is in every respect doing
well, and that by the seventh day, Monday, the fever will leave him.
It is obviously of much importance that I came home as
I did, as it has a happy effect upon father's spirits that I am here.
For the same reason, I must stay as long as I consistently can. By
the next week, I trust, he will be greatly advanced on thc way of

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 433
recovery ; and by the middle of the week I hope to be with you
again." Wednesday, 21st. " I feel now as if I could leave father with a
good hope of his speedy restoration to health. . . . All that
gives him any trouble now is his leg and ankle ; but I have been
present at all the dressings, night and day, and have seen a gradual
and decided improvement each time, and the doctor thinks that he
will have no difficulty with it. ... I think father will soon be
about again, and in better health after this turn than before."
To these extracts it is a pleasure to add a few other passages
from a letter to his friend and his father's friend, Cyrus Curtiss,
Esq., of New York, dated March 19. " Your anxieties, of course,
are with us for father. Upon the first intimation of his sickness,
knowing that at his time of life, and after the enjoyment of such
uninterrupted health, any sickness must be serious, I hastened home,
and arrived on Thursday. His worst symptoms had been relieved
by that time ; but he was very restless and uncomfortable, and there
was enough to occasion anxiety. I am happy to say, however,
that he has been constantly improving since, and is almost entirely
free from fever this morning. His last night was the most comfort
able which he has yet had. The condition of his leg is mending,
and the inflammation seems to be subsiding as the other symptoms
improve. He seems very natural, has as much appetite as is good
for him, and enjoys such food as the rules allow. The doctor gives
us reason to expect that in a few days he will be about again ;
not, I trust, to resume the round of duty under which he has sunk.
It will be difficult for me to be absent for many days
longer ; and as soon as I have seen father through this conflict, I
shall return." Before he closes, he speaks in these grateful terms
of a very highly-finished portrait of his father, painted for Mr.
Curtiss by the artist Jocelyn : " Many a time have I thanked you
in my heart that his portrait would survive, and one so worthy of
preservation." On his return to Boston, he resumed his regular correspondence
with his father ; though it was not until the 29th of March that he
received any return, and this was but an apology for a letter. But
on Tuesday before Easter, April 3, he acknowledges the receipt of
a full-length epistle : " I rejoice in the sight of a letter of the usual
length, and bearing evidence that the inward man is renewed day
by day. I trust, also, that, by God's good hand upon you, the out
ward man is continuing to gain, and to make progress towards com
plete restoration." In the same letter he transcribes the following
passage from a reply of the Rev. Dr. Potter, of Albany, to an
inquiry with regard to the state of his sister-in-law, who had been
for a long time in declining health : " I have been greatly comforted
in seeing the state of Mrs. Sherman Croswell's mind. It is
55

434 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849
simple and unaffected, but most real and most wonderful. She is quite
cheerful ; enjoys things about her with her usual sweetness ; but
loves to look forward, and seems to see no terror. Nor is this owing
to want of depth in her views. I never saw, especially in one of
her vivacious temper, a more calm and beautiful waiting ! "
On Easter Tuesday, he writes in high animation : " These glori
ous Easter days ! Were there ever any thing like them ? They
are almost a remedy for sickness ; and I hope they will have a heal
ing mercy for you, though you may yet be shut up, and cannot go
to the temple of the Lord. Several of the brethren have been
deprived of the same privilege. Brothers Greenleaf and Woart
have both been confined to their rooms for a week or two, and
were just able to get out and sit in the chancel on Easter morning.
I could not but hope that you were doing at least as much." This
hope was fully realized. His father was enabled on that blessed
day to go to the house of God, and present his thank-offering,
though not sufficiently recovered to take any part in the services.
He proceeds : " I have been greatly blessed myself with health, and
all other enjoyments, for which I cannot be too thankful. Our
Passion week services were interesting and well attended. The
Easter services were quite transporting — music inspiring — church
full — communion largest that we have yet had. We filled tbe
font with sweet, delicious flowers ; and a silver vase on a shelf of
the altar contained the same lovely, natural, significant symbols of
the resurrection. We have received many tokens of affectionate
regard ; and our prospects, individually and collectively, were never
brighter." An occasional passage is found in his correspondence which
raises some misgivings with regard to the propriety of selecting so
freely from his letters. Here is an example : " As to old letters, I
grow very remorseless, and think it safest to consign them to de
struction — reserving perhaps a few for specimens. Filled as they
are apt to be with personalities, intended for one confidential eye,
they may be the means of creating feuds and heartburnings, which
would not be compensated for by all the letters that ever were
written. My own accumulate so fast, that, excepting our family
correspondence, I believe that I shall make a bonfire of the bulk of
them. . . . What I have written, I have written ; and I hope,
before it be too late, all my letters will be committed to the flames.
What a conflagration will they not make ! — less, however, than if they
were not consumed, considering with what a free pen I have been in
the habit of writing." Whatever may have been his momentary con
victions on this subject, no such work of destruction as is here inti
mated was ever committed. On the contrary, his well-arranged
files of letters and papers probably outnumber the collections of
most men of his age.

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 4a<5
Several letters, chiefly of a private and confidential nature, arc-
here passed over ; and we now come to his account, under date of
May 20, of his excursion to Greenfield, to attend the consecration
of a new church in that parish: "I was at Greenfield on the 10th,
as I purposed, and really had a very delightful time. I have not
ceased since to regret that I had so long lost the personal acquaint
ance of friends, whom I had long known through Dr. Strong, and
whose society I should hope to enjoy, through Christ, in eternity.
It is twenty y«ars that I have been promising myself and them to
visit Greenfield. The religious services were very interesting.
The consecration was on Thursday. Being the only cleric left, I
preached on Friday, morning and evening, and had service again
on Saturday morning. On Sunday I assisted Dr. Strong, and
preached at evening service. We had one or tvvo delightful rides
on the mountain sides around, which, like the hills, enclose Jerusa
lem. On Monday, I returned to Boston."
On Whit Monday he writes, " We commemorated the great
feast of Pentecost under circumstances that were very inspiring.
There was a devout assemblage, a goodly number of whom
remained to celebrate our holiest act of worship, and to call mightily,
as I trust, with the faithful every where, for the communion of the
Holy Ghost the Comforter. To-day we continue the memorial,
and resume it to-morrow again. Then follow the Ember days,
the sacramental lecture on Friday, preparatory to the last crowning
festival, in which we acknowledge the glory of the Eternal Trinity,
and, in the power of the divine Majesty, worship the Unity. Truly
this is an anniversary week to the souls who prefer the old festivals
of enduring interest to the novel, local, and ephemeral anniversaries
that are now drawing people together in this city. ... As
.soon as this week is over, I shall begin to cast about to see what I
can best do for recruiting myself during the warm weather. In the
present state of concern with regard to the cholera, I shall not care
to go far from the city. And, indeed, I shall expect to derive more
benefit from little excursions to the neighboring beaches, exercise,
and sea bathing, where I shall be entirely by myself, than amid such
scenes of social excitement as may be connected with the visiting
of friends. I have reason to bless God that, apart from this local
inconvenience in my face, my health never seemed better." June
4, speaking of the health of the city, he says, " Some cases of de
cided cholera have occurred, but as yet they are kept out of the
papers. Indeed, they have been chiefly imported, or, if indigenous,
among the filthier and more intemperate portions of our miserable
fellow-creatures. Boston is in a much less fit condition of prepa
ration than on the former visitation. The population has greatly
increased ; and those parts of the city which are most exposed are
crowded to excess. Still there is much to favor us : the sea-wind —

436 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849.
the comparative cleanliness — the complete system of sewerage,
much more perfect than that of any other city in the country, as I
am told — and the inclined plane of the hills, cleansing them more
readily than if we were on the stagnant level of New York.
However, our dependence is on the God whose providence directs,
permits, restrains all influences, seen and unseen, in whatever way
he pleases ; and our obvious duty is, watching unto prayer." Of
his little daughter, whose health had been suffering for some time
past, he says, " Mary's seventh year was completed yesterday. Her
health seems quite restored, as well as her spirits. She has some
flesh and strength to acquire, however, before she will be where she
was before her sickness."
June 25, after speaking of a prevailing epidemic, to which several
prominent persons had fallen victims, and of various recommenda
tions of the physicians as to diet and regimen, he turns to topics
of personal consideration. " Yesterday, St. John Baptist's, was the
twentieth anniversary of my ordination as priest and institution into
the rectorship of Christ's Church, Boston. It was a solemn day
to me. The Holy Communion vvas administered. By another co
incidence, I attended a funeral at Christ's Church, in the absence
of the rector ; but there was a sad change in the place.
Next month, Providence favoring, I shall probably go to the White
Hills. Afterwards I hope to see you at home."
Writing again, July 3, he says, " While it continues as safe and
pleasant here as at present, I shall not think of leaving Boston, ex
cept on short excursions about the suburbs. My friend Stimpson
is ready to accompany me to the White Hills, either immediately,
or after the 19th : as at present advised, I prefer the latter. It is
said that there has been a great rush that way, in consequence of
the fear of the cholera having driven visitors from their usual resorts
to the Springs, &c. Primitive mountain districts have generally
been exempt from those visitations of mortal disease ; and I under
stand that neither Switzerland nor the Granite Hills have known
much about it. This is a consideration, however, which is calculat
ed to increase the company as the season advances ; and we shall
expect to find the peaks more populous than usual, and perhaps
more than is comfortable, as the accommodations are rather
straitened." July 15, he again resumes these personal sketches : " We went
down to Marblehead and Philip's Beach one day, to find some re
fuge (from the heat.) Another day I spent at Nahant. A third I
sat on the Common, by the fountain, to catch what I could of the
breeze, such as it was. . . . I am going to the Point at South
Boston for a week or two, with wife and Mary, to try sea bathing.
Then I expect to set out for the White Hills ; and, after that, shall
set my face homeward."

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 437
In his letter of the 23d he mentions an ill turn experienced by
his little daughter Mary, whicli had given him much anxiety. She
had formerly had a similar turn while visiting at New Haven; and,
in both instances, it seemed unlike an ordinary fainting fit, as she
fell heavily upon the floor, and remained for a few moments un
conscious. " But (he says) she soon revived, and, except some
slight injury from the fall, seemed to suffer no inconvenience. Of
cdhrse, however, it keeps us anxious."
On the last day of July, he writes, " We have come in from
South Boston, and I am preparing for our departure to the White
Hills on Thursday. I should prefer to remain till after the great
Fast ; but am at the disposal of my friend Mr. Stimpson, who can
only order it thus. ... I shall send you word, as we go, of
our movements. We shall make our plans as we go along. At
present, I only know that our purpose is to go to Claremont on
Thursday, and there remain until the following Monday."
Accordingly, he writes his next letter from Claremont, where he
spent the national Fast aud the following Sunday. " I am in the
company, as you know, of my friend and parishioner, Mr. F. H.
Stimpson, who bears all the expenses of the journey. His connec
tions in this beautiful town have been very kind and hospitable, and
I have enjoyed our quiet sojourn here exceedingly. I fancy that
my health is somewhat improved. To-morrow, at noon, we pur
pose to take up our line of travel to Wells River by railroad ;
thence to Littleton by stage. How we shall get to Franconia, and
thence to the Notch, are questions which I cannot resolve ; but shall
apprise you, through my wife, as we proceed."
Under date of " Franconia Notch, Wednesday morning, August
8," he writes to his wife and friends, " We left Wells River in a stage
with but three passengers, over a charming road, for which privilege
we paid double fare. . . . We dined at Littleton, twenty miles
from my last mail, on the Great Amonoosuck. At half past one
we left in a buggy, and a carpet bag contained our duds. At four
o'clock we were in this wild spot. Compared with all that I have
had to look upon in past days, methinks I have seen no scenery
before. We were in luck ; as, being in advance of the mail, we
secured one of the best sleeping rooms in the house. Large parties
came in afterwards, and there were more than fifty at tea. We
found no acquaintance among them, however. The first persons we
overtook on our way to the house were Rev. Messrs. Noble and
Kidney, who had just reached there before us. They are truly
very choice spirits. . . . They have been footing it all round
here for this fortnight, and have wonderfully gained in strength and
health by the excursion. May it be so with me. . . . Fran
conia is the place, you know, for the long thermometers. It was
very cool here yesterday. At evening, the fire in the bar room is

433 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849.
comfortable. At sunrise, this morning, the glass was at forty-eight,
but probably much lower in the night. . . . After breakfast,
we shall pass on five miles farther, to the Flume House, — probably
dine there, — and return to Littleton to-night. To-morrow, we
take a fresh start in the stage for Crawford's Notch House, where
we shall hope to find letters."
With the exception of some brief notes in his journal, but few
particulars of this pleasant excursion can be collected. " Sunday,
August 12. Rain all day. At eleven conducted service in the little
parlor, and read Williams's sermon on the Christian Scholar. Spent
most of the day in my room. Sore throat came on in the evening ;
the effect, doubtless, of the dampness. Monday, 13. Rain held
up after dinner. We rode through the Notch. Left our chaise at
the foot of the descent, and walked to Crawford's Notch House.
To ascend the mountain to-morrow, if the weather permit. Tues
day, 14. Promise of a clear day. After breakfast, set off with
seven others in company, besides our guide, for the summit.
Woods very wet. Seven hours ascending, by ' Old Crawford's '
road. Few views by the way. Returned in the mist and rain.
Wednesday, 15. Waited all day for a chance to get to Conway.
Limbs rather weary. After dinner, rode to Conway. Arrived at
ten. Glorious view, before sunset, of the White Hills, Pequaket
Mountain, Conway Peak, &c. Thursday, 16. Beautiful morning.
By stage to Centre Harbor. Fine ride. Conway Peak, in all its
aspects, for many miles. At the harbor to dine. Crossed the
lake. Railroad to Concord. Friday, 17. Early breakfast. At
six, set out towards Boston. At Nashua, parted with my friend
Mr. Stimpson, and went to Groton junction, whence I took the
Fitchburg railroad to Montague. Thence by stage to Greenfield."
His next letter to his father is under date of Greenfield, Satur
day, August 18 : " Having been brought safely on my way thus far,
I drop a line, in haste, to acknowledge the receipt of yours at the
White Mountains, and to say, that I hope to meet wife and Mary
at Springfield, and proceed to the parsonage in New Haven in the
train that leaves there soon after one, on Monday. Under the
shadow of the paternal roof, we will recount our journeyings and
rest a while."
It vvas during this brief visit to Greenfield that the following lines
were written. To those who are not familiar with the localities of
that town, a word of explanation is necessary. He had been climb
ing a steep but thickly-wooded hill, which, overlooking on opposite
sides the town and the valley of the Connecticut River, presents on
the west a rocky and almost perpendicular descent to the plain on
which the village stands. A projecting rock which overhangs this
precipice is known as " The Poet's Seat." The ladies of the party
enthroned him there, and, standing on the higher summit of the

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 439
rock, called on him to compose some verses for them. The result
was

AN APOLOGY.
Emerging from the storied wood,
Enforced, I took the poet's seat ;
Inspiring faces o'er me stood,
And Greenfield lay beneath my feet.
With lulling sound, I heard fast by
The unseen river's broken flows,
And all things seemed to multiply
One image of serene repose.
I little thought, 'mid musings vain,
How like that stone to fate of bard —
Rich visions floating round his brain,
But ah, his seat, so lone and hard !
Of friendship and of feeling full,
How little, in his weakness, dreamt he
That head and fancy both were dull,
And, like his rocky inkstand,* empty !
But the rest so fondly anticipated in the letter just quoted was
scarcely realized. He arrived at New Haven with his wife and
daughter at the time specified ; not, however, to enjoy mueh quiet
or repose. In consequence of the great prevalence of sickness and
mortality in the parish, his father's time and attention were so
wholly engrossed by painful and exciting duties that scarcely a mo
ment was afforded for social enjoyment. Meanwhile the infirmity
in his face had become exceedingly troublesome ; and, to add to his
anxiety, he received intelligence from Boston which convinced him
that his presence might be required in his parish. The following
extract from a letter of the 25th to the Misses Tarbell shows the
state of his feelings at the time : " I cannot say that my difficulty
is any better, nor do I think it likely to be, simply by inglorious inac
tion. I purpose, before I return, to go to Northampton, and make
some inquiries about the water cure. Whether any thing will grow
out of my visit, I cannot tell. ... It will be my desire to be
in my own place on the first Sunday in September, unless I have
counsel to the contrary. The tidings of affliction and mortality
among our dear flock make me very sad. I would I had been
there." Under these circumstances, therefore, it was thought de
sirable to shorten the visit, and return at the end of a single week.
* A little hollow in the rock is so named.

440 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849,
His wife and daughter passed on directly to Boston, while he lin
gered for a day or two at Hartford, for the purpose of consulting
some of his friends who had advised him to visit the water-cure
establishment at Northampton, before his return to his parish.
Writing to his father on the 29th, he says, " It vvas my purpose to
go to Northampton to-day, and stay as long as I could ; but I had
a letter from home last evening informing me that my assistant was
taken ill on St. Bartholomew's day, — threatened with cholera, —
was unable to officiate on Sunday, — and, though apparently well
again yesterday, would be, it vvas feared, unable to go on alone any
longer. It vvas thought best to let me know the facts, that 1 might
act according to my own judgment. I think I had better return
to-day. If not, I shall go to-morrow, after looking about at North
ampton to-day. But I cannot see that this last will be of any use ;
and while I write, my mind preponderates in favor of an immediate
return." His next letter is from Boston, on Friday, the 31st:
" You will be surprised, but, I trust, glad, to hear that I am so
soon safely home again. My stay at Northampton was sufficient to
satisfy me that it was not worth while for me to remain. I was
indeed delighted with the prospect from Round Hill ; but the town
was as sickly as the view was beautiful. Indeed, all the doctors
were among the invalids, and unable to comply with the demand,
' Physician, heal thyself!' My judicious friend who accompanied
me was entirely of my opinion that there are no benefits of bathing
or exercise that would not be open to me with greater advantage
here, and at less risk. The universal spread of this epidemic, ma
lignant dysentery, is indeed appalling. But in the interior, amid
the luxuriant vegetation of the Connecticut valley, and the miasma
in consequence, the effects must^ be greatly aggravated. Persons
from the seaboard can hardly remain a day or two at Northampton
without resort to opium and camphor. From this time until the
frost sets in strong, there is no place in the world, probably, more
healthy than Boston. Those who have remained here for the sum
mer, thus far, are among the healthiest people that I have met with.
May God speedily restore the land to its wonted salubrity."
September 3, he writes, " The weather is so clear and cool, that we
trust the sickness will abate. As with you, there are all around us
bleeding and bereaved hearts ; and it is indeed a gloomy season.
I have been sent for to attend a funeral at Deer Island to-morrow ;
and go, as in duty bound, trusting that the God whom we serve
faithfully will preserve us from all peril."
September 10, after alluding rather sadly to his complaint in his
face, he adds, "I am beginning to patronize the riding school, and look
for some advantage from the jolting. Whatever may be the result,
I shall not give up working again, unless it be for a voyage abroad,
or something of the kind, of which there is but little probability.

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. MX
Time, at the longest, is so short, and there is so much to do, I
would fain be found doing with my might when the night cometh
wherein no man can work."
September 18, he again alludes to his expedients for improving his
health : " Equitation grows more and more pleasant. I have hope
that it will be useful. I trust that I am gaining. I am very grate
ful for friend Peck's suggestion about a voyage to the West Indies,
and his offer of a free passage. If it should be decided that I must
go away, I know of nothing that would be pleasanter, except visit
ing the elder world and the great eastern continent."
The following description of a solemn and interesting inci
dent, which took place on Sunday the sixteenth after Trinity,
and which is very briefly alluded to in his journal, is from an
eye witness, who, three years afterwards, communicated it in a
note to his father : " The recurrence of this day calls vividly to
mind, among those here who participated in it, a service in Christ
Church, just three years since, at the close of day. There were
present Elmira Tarbell, from the Advent ; a daughter of the late
Rev. W. Lucas, of Auburn ; Miss Mary Prescott, and one of her
younger brothers, from your own parish • Helen C  , and my
self, formerly of Christ Church ; and the pastor, whose sweet influ
ences linked us, one and all, in a common bond of interest. As we
stood around the chancel, he remarked, ' It seems fitting, in a place
like this, to offer some act of worship ; ' and, reaching a Prayer
Book from the altar, he selected the 122d Psalm of David in metre,
and then, kneeling, repeated the Lord's Prayer, and the two peti
tions from the Institution office, and applied them specially to the
then rector and congregation of Christ Church. Touching and
impressive as was the circumstance at the time, how much more so
now, as time wears on, and his loving spirit seems brooding in many
holy places, especially in those whose representatives were then
clustered about him !
" About a year since, and perhaps for the very last time, he whom
we mourn was in that sacred edifice. After the service bad closed,
he went into the vestry ; and as he returned to the church, entered
a pew, knelt, and was alone in that posture, as the last of the con
gregation left the porch. Christ Church was at that time without a
rector ; and there are those that can bear testimony how his heart
yearned over her waste places, and how natural his prayer, ' re
corded in imperishable verse,' in which he says, —
' I ask, dear Church, to see
No drought on others' husbandry,
But much uf dew on thee ! ' "
Returning now to his own correspondence, the following is from
56

412 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849.
his letter of September 25 : " We assisted the bishop at the consecra
tion of the new Church of St. Mary's, Dorchester. Some twenty-three
of the clergy were present. By reading the lessons, I was allowed
to appear in a surplice. Unofficiating brethren, who had no other
robes, were not allowed by the bishop to wear the surplice, but
were told to take their places among the congregational brethren.
It was a very interesting occasion, and the prospects there are high
ly encouraging. The next day, St. Matthew's, was observed at the
Advent with the usual solemnities. Seven of the clergy were
present, and thirty or forty of the laity at the Holy Communion."
Writing again, October 1 , he says, " The last week has been one of
many solemn anniversaries to us, domestic as well as ecclesiastical.
The touching remembrances of what occurred last year at this time
gave a peculiar zest to the services, with which, at morning and
evening, we subdued and elevated our minds for the celebration of
the feast of St. Michael and All Angels ; and we thought of the little
one taken from us to behold with its angels the face of our Father
which is in heaven. The Holy Communion was administered, as
we purpose that it shall be on all the Saints' days ; and though but
fifty or sixty were present, it was a most delightful and affecting
service. Our protracted meetings increase in interest, and put to
shame all modern devices for effecting, what the Church has ever
shown, a ' more excellent way.' Good seems to be coming of it
every way. "
On Friday, October 26, his father, from whom he had been for some
time anticipating a visit, arrived in Boston, and, while he remained,
participated in all the daily services, besides assisting in the com
munion, and preaching twice on Sunday. But his plans were ma
terially interrupted, and his father's visit curtailed, by intelligence
received from Albany of 'the death of his sister-in-law, Mrs. Sher
man Croswell. She had been long in a declining state of health,
and her friends had been in daily apprehension of her departure ;
but, at this moment, the event vvas somewhat sudden and un
expected ; for he had very recently written to his father, " Her
continuance thus far seems to encourage us to look for a yet
longer stay. Our times are in God's hands ! " Immediately
on the receipt of this intelligence, he wrote to his cousin at New
Haven, " We have just received the telegraphic intelligence of sister
Delia's decease. Had there been time and opportunity to have
reached Albany before the funeral, we should have gone off together
at once. But this vvas impossible. But father feels so anxious, on
every account, to see Sherman, that he thinks he shall leave here
for Albany on Wednesday. We should not be at all reconciled to
this abbreviation of his visit under other circumstances ; but we
cannot but admit the sufficiency of his reasons. We have written
to Sherman this evening, to comfort him, and apprise him of his

1849.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 443
father's intentions." Speaking of the services in the church, he
adds, " The enjoyment of the service vvas saddened, but deepened,
by the affliction whose shadow falls so deeply on us all. I would be
glad to go with father, but I cannot do so now. I hope to be with
Sherman in the course of the autumn. Alas ! we do all fade, in
deed, as its leaf." *
During the remainder of the year, he seldom alludes to his health,
and especially to the infirmity in his face, except by way of apology
for the brevity of his communications ; as, for example, November
9, " We are well. My eye is better, really, I think ; but that I may
* No apology is necessary for recording in ^his place the following just and
appropriate obituary sketch of the deceased, published in the Albany Argus,
and written, as appears from the signature, as well as from internal evidence,
by her revered and esteemed pastor, the Rev. Dr. H. Potter, rector of St. Pe
ter's Church : —
" Died. — After a very lingering illness, early on Saturday morning, October
27, in the 39th year of her age, Mrs. Delia Adams, wife of Sherman Cros
well, Esq., one of the editors of the Albany Argus, and daughter of John
Adams, Esq., of Catskill.
" If it be a duty to commemorate the faithful departed ; if purity, and
goodness, and devoted affection, and cheerful kindliness of heart, appearing
like a bright light even in suffering ; if a humble yet serene and steadfast
Christian faith, which would make death welcome, ay, and suffering welcome
too, and drive away all gloom from the chamber of sickness and death, — if
these quahties are worthy to be had in honor in the Church of God, then the
grave should not be allowed to close over the mortal remains of Mrs. Croswell
without some words of affectionate admiration. Hundreds have remarked the
innocence, the simplicity, the peculiar charm of manner, the bright and vivi
fying influence which went with her through all her life, and wliich was even
more remarkable in her days of lassitude and suffering than it had been in her
days of health ; but who, except those who saw her in the last months of her
illness, and conversed with her as only intimate Christian friends can converse,
will ever know any thing of the modest yet firm and all- sustaining faith, the
heavenly hope, which took away from her all the terrors of death, made her
contented and pleased with all that was appointed for her, and, while she was as
humble as it is possible for a Christian person to be, yet caused her to be so in
love with her lot, and so happy in it, that she became a wonder to herself, as she
was to all her friends ? Nothing could he further removed from enthusiasm, from
presumption, from high pretension, than was her whole character and man
ner, in sickness as in health. What was seen in her sick room was the peace
ful and cheerful spirit of one who, with no stain upon her conscience, had
seen things temporal and things eternal, so truly as they are, and had come so
very near to her heavenly Father, and made the love of Christ so much her
daily study, that, while her sympathies and affections were as humane and as
tender as ever, her tastes and desires were altogether transformed, and she only
waiting for that fulness of rest which ensues when this troublesome stage is
passed. For this great peace there was a solid foundation ; and to be fully
aware of the real excellence of her Christian character, it was necessary to have
looked through the natural gayety of her disposition, and observed the
thoughtiulness and the scrupulous fidelity to every domestic and social duty
ofthe daily life — to have seen what she was, in hours of strictest privacy, as a
daughter, as a wife, and as a mother. But let us not presume to draw aside
this veil. ' It becomes us to be modest for a modest person ; ' and the writer
hastens to close this feeble tribute to the worth of one who was so lately with
us, but who has now gone to join a nobler company, with the expression of
his gratitude that he was permitted to be the witness of an example so
attractive and so cheering, so full of instruction, encouragement, and conso
lation. *•

444 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1849.
hold what 1 have gained, I must abstain as strictly as may be from
writing." The following incidental remark, in a note of November 12, is
worthy of record, as serving to show the estimation in which the
great New England statesman was held by a disinterested observer:
" There is but one Daniel Webster ; and he casts into a prodigious
shadow the ordinary race of petty men."
November 20, after noting the services of the previous Sunday,
he says, " At evening, the bishop summoned clergy and laity to St.
Paul's, to hear his sermon, preached at the late anniversary (of the
P. E. S. P. E. K.) in Philadelphia. It was a painful exhibition.
As it will be published, I suppose, it is needless to attempt an
analysis. Suffice it to say, I am not yet convinced that it is our
duty to substitute, for our profession of belief in the Creed, ' in the
Holy Catholic Church,' ' I believe in the Massachusetts Auxiliary
to the Protestant Episcopal Society for the Promoting of Evangeli
cal Knowledge.' The bishop's view of the baptismal office is, that
the offering of thanks for the regeneration of the chi'd is altogether
hypothetical; and this, perhaps, explains the reason why the office
is so seldom recited at Trinity or St. Paul's."
In the same letter, he announces his intention of meeting his
brother Sherman at the paternal home on the ensuing Thanksgiv
ing, the 29th. He arrived on the 27th, and his brother on the en
suing day. Their meeting and visit were exceedingly pleasant to
all parties ; though necessarily short on his part, as he felt con
strained to be at his post on the great anniversary of Advent Sunday.
He returned on Saturday, and on the evening of Advent Sunday he
found time to drop a hasty note to his father. After noting the
impressive services of the day, which were divided between his as
sistant, Mr. Prescott, and himself, he adds, " I brought back from
this visit to New Haven very precious recollections ; and I felt that
none had for many years been more profitable. Mother thought
me sad and depressed at times ; but it was with that sort of sad
ness with which one is made better and wiser. To tell the truth,
my mind was brooding over all that I had called up by the empty
tread of the desolate rooms of our old residence, in which I had
wandered and peopled the waste places with thick-thronging memo
ries. [This was the house in Orange Street, in which his family
resided during his boyhood, and in which his brother George and
his sister Jane had died. It being at the time without inhabitant, he
procured the key, and paced every room and place which had once
been so familiar.] I had long desired, too, to arrange George's
remains, but had hardly courage to do so till this opportunity was
afforded ; and it was a melancholy gratification to renew and deepen,
by that examination, the convictions vvhich I had always entertained
of his high claims to the love and esteem with vvhich we regarded

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 445
him while living, and shall always cherish his memory, until (as 1
pray by God's grace) we are united again by closer, more spiritual
and indissoluble bonds, in an everlasting brotherhood. Eldest,
brightest, and best — how far short have we come of his early
promise ! '  Alas ! the good die first ;
And those whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket.'
I am very anxious that Sherman, before he returns, sbould^fconclude
upon some plan of setting the things in order on the churchyard
lot, which holds so much sacred dust."
In his next letter, December 16, he speaks of Mr. Hudson, who
had acquired a high reputation as a lecturer on Shakspeare, as
having been admitted to the sacred order of Deacons in the Church ;
and being at this time a resident of Boston, he adds, " He will
put his light in our candlestick. We shall have three services on
Sunday, with his help, and shall each have our turn. Being Ember
week, and the feast of St. Thomas being celebrated with the ad
ministration of the eucharist, we have much of solemn public duty ;
and it will not be diminished much, if at all, for many weeks to
come. I feel quite relieved of any anxiety, however, through fear
of not being sustained. A threefold cord is not easily broken."
The record of the year is concluded with a few extracts from a
letter written during the intervals of duty on Christmas day :
" Yesterday I had a pleasant duty in distributing some forty or fifty
dollars in alms — though rather a hard time to set ' traps to catch
sunbeams.' To-day we had very interesting services — the congre
gation was large — and the evergreens, vvhich were put up yesterday
after morning prayer, very thickly woven together, and in excellent
taste. We had Dr. Eaton, Mr. Prescott, and Mr. Hudson assist
ing — the music was inspiring — and the offertory not unworthy of
the occasion. Nine o'clock. Have just returned from our second
service, where Mr. Prescott gave us one of his best and most
appropriate sermons. There were not so many present as there
ought to have been ; but the few, doubtless, felt that it was good for
them to be there."

1850.
" A happy new year to you all ! " is the salutation with which
he opens the correspondence of the year. Though cheerily written,
he was actually suffering at the time from slight indisposition ; and

446 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850.
several circumstances conspired to give a pensive turn to his musings.
According to his annual custom, he had been gathering up, arran
ging, andr filing the papers, correspondence, and other manuscripts
of the past year. Many striking changes were thus brought vividly
to his mind ; and the memory of departed friends naturally awa
kened a train of solemn reflections on the brevity of life, and the
passing away of the years of his own probation. In writing both
to his father and brother, he makes some touching allusions to the
family burying-place at New Haven, and suggests his intention of
procuring, at Mount Auburn, a lot for such of his family as might
depart this life in Boston. But apart from all considerations of this
nature, he was doubtless somewhat disturbed by the idea that the
time had again come for renewing his application to the bishop for
an official visitation, with a well-grounded apprehension that the
petition would again be denied. In this apprehension he was not
mistaken, as the following correspondence will show : —

Feast or the Circumcision, 1850.
Right reverend and dear Sir : Will it be convenient for you
to give me notice of an appointment for administering confirmation
to such candidates as I may present, in season to be announced to
our congregation on the feast of the Epiphany ? With regard to the
time, the morning of either of the two Sundays preceding Lent
would be preferred. As to the place where the service ought to be
held, I may be allowed to say that I entertain the same convictions
as I have already repeatedly expressed to you. But, without
waiving any claim of privilege, I would avoid, at present, reviving
controversy ; and if you still decline visiting our parish for this
purpose, 1 trust the office will be permitted to take place in your own.
With my best wishes for a happy new year,
Very sincerely yours in the office of priesthood,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Bishop Eastburn. II. Tremont Street, January 3, 1850.
Reverend and dear Sui : I have received your note of the 1st
instant, and in reply beg to say that I shall be happy to administer
confirmation, to such persons as you may present, in Trinity Church.
You mention either of the two Sundays preceding Lent as the time
you would prefer. As I have purposed, however, holding my
annual confirmation in Trinity sometime during Lent, I have fixed
upon the second Sunday in Lent, in the morning, as the day for
confirming both your candidates and those who shall be found ready

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 447
among the parishioners of Trinity Church. This time, being not
remote from that mentioned by yourself, will, I trust, not be objec
tionable to you.
Reciprocating your kind salutation on the commencement of
another year, I am faithfully yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
Rev. Dr. Croswell. *
III. Boston, February 23, 1850.
Right reverend and dear Sir : It is proper to apprise you
that, in compliance with your directions, I shall attend at Trinity
Church with many of our congregation to-morrow morning. The
service at our church will be omitted. I cannot yet inform you of
the precise number of candidates for confirmation ; but I am sorry
to say that I find it, year by year, seriously diminished, in conse
quence of the course which you have felt at liberty to pursue, in
depriving our parish of the benefits of the Episcopal visitation, con
templated by the canon ; and I should be wanting in a sense of
what is due to my own rights as a presbyter under your jurisdiction,
" not justly liable to evil report, either for error in doctrine or
viciousness of life," as well as what is due to those of the laity of
our parish, constituted an integral part of the diocese, entitled to
representation in the convention, and to the enjoyment of the same
canonical provision and privileges as any other parish in it, if I did
not once more enter my solemn protest against these proceedings,
as I have done against similar proceedings in former years.
As ever, your faithful presbyter,
W. CROSWELL.
The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, Bishop of Massachusetts. '-<j -q
On this new arrangement with the bishop he offered no special
comment. He merely mentions it iu his letter to his father, January
7 : "I have negotiated with the bishop for a confirmation of our
candidates at Trinity Church, on the second Sunday in Lent,
February 24, being the feast of St. Matthew the apostle. I hope
that I shall have a considerable number to bring, and such as shall
be accounted worthy when tried by the balance of the sanctuary."
While he was diligently pursuing his pastoral duties, and, with the
assistance of Mr. Prescott and Mr. Hudson, offering daily prayers,
morning and evening, and holding three services on Sundays, he
was again brought into severe affliction. January 14, he writes,
" The last week has been a sad one. We have been in the midst
of • deaths oft.' That of our dear friend Dr. E. H. Robbins has
overwhelmed us with grief. ... So unexpected was it, that I
was not aware until the last day that he was sick at all. I was at

448 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850.
Brookline, dining with Mr. Clark, when a messenger came to
summon him to the doctor's bedside. It was too late for any
communication. But there is every reason to suppose that this
event did not take him unawares or find him unprepared. He had
spoken very freely with his child and friends of his convictions that
he should not live long ; and the tenor of his daily walk was his
best preparation. He had a warm heart, and was a deviser of the
most liberal things — a pattern of disinterested benevolence — truly
devout, without the slightest pretence — full of .good deeds — a
lover of hospitality, and a lover of good men. His funeral was
attended by a concourse on Saturday, many of whom will be
ready to rise up and declare his memory blessed. We feel every
such loss here to be indeed irreparable. A chief layman of Trinity
Church is gone, and with him is buried much of living interest
there. Our aged and saintly friend Miss Coffin, now fourscore
years old and more, bears her bereavement with wonderful fortitude ;
and indeed the whole family exhibit a composure of spirit which
nothing but divine aid can impart. I dwell upon this event, for I
have not thought of much else since it occurred.

' But welcome fortitude and patient cheer,
And frequent sights of what is to be borne, —
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here, —
Not without hope, we suffer and we mourn.' "
The following incidental remark, in a letter of January 28, ex
hibits a trait in his ministerial character vvhich there is a pleasure
in recording : " Both P. and H. give me any amount of assistance
in the public duties ; but in the more retired and unobserved parts
of pastoral functions, — visiting the poor, for instance, — there is little
relief from the burden. As little, however, as I wish, and I would
be content with less. In these unseen things, after all, the great
strength of our calling lies."
With reference to the approaching confirmation, February 19,
he says, " This being the ' last week of asking ' before confirmation,
I am much engrossed with my candidates. I cannot yet tell what
the exact number will be ; but I fear that I shall find it seriously
diminished in consequence of the bishop's very extraordinary course.
. . . Meanwhile there is nothing like stagnation about the
interest that is taken in the approaching service ; and as we propose
to omit our usual morning service, and to proceed in a body to
Trinity Church, I think that the venerable edifice is likely for once
to be full."
That he was not disappointed in this anticipation, appears from
his letter of the 25th : " Yesterday was a delightful day —though

1830.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 449
not a day of rest precisely, after the fatigues of the week. We
rose very early ; had the ante-communion office for St. Matthias
recited at nine o'clock, at the Church of the Advent. I then ad
dressed the candidates for confirmation ; and, accompanied by the
Rev. Dr. Eaton at the head of the procession, the candidates, with
Rev. Mr. Prescott, fell in in close order, and the whole body went '
on to Trinity Church. There our numbers occasioned some confu
sion ; but we were all seated at last, and the service proceeded.
Rev. Mr. Clark read morning prayer. I sat iu the chancel with
the bishop, and read the epistle and the preface to the confirmation
office. I presented twenty-three, and the bishop reported nine — the
whole a httle more than filling the chancel rail. . . . The
solemnity was impressive, and the services exciting. I felt reason
to be gratified with the part which I was permitted to take in it, and
with the character and qualifications of those whom I presented.
The bishop omitted the sermon, and made a short, unexceptionable
address. Our intercourse was courteous, externally, but nothing
more than official exchange of conversation."
March 4, he writes, " We have gone one week deeper into the
shadows of Lent, and the interest seems to be increasing as we
advance. The daily service, particularly on Wednesday and Friday,
morning and evening, is well attended." He also speaks of the
Sunday congregations, during the day and the evening, as being
very large. He concludes, " My health does not seem to suffer
from any thing that is required of me at present."
March 11 : " It is bright and clear, and the mind sympathizes
with the aspects of nature. Day unto day, as usual, uttereth speech ;
one differing but little from another. I have scarcely any thing to
diversify my page withal. Yesterday we had the holy communion,
as usual on mid-Lent Sunday, and I preached an appropriate
discourse on the miracle of the gospel, from the text, Shall God
prepare a table in the wilderness ? Can lie give bread also 1 Many
of our candidates recently confirmed came to the altar. Some, by
my advice, wait till Easter — when Christ our Passover is sacrificed
for us, and which, like the feast of the Jews, is to us also nigh at
hand." He seldom adverts in his letters to thc grievous malady in
his face ; but under this same date he mentions his intention of sub
mitting to some experiments in magnetism, gratuitously offered to
him by Dr. Cross : " To-day I commence a course of sittings to
Dr. Cross, from which I have reason to anticipate some benefit to
my nerves." The advice which the doctor kindly added to these
experiments evidently gave him no small degree of encouragement.
But it was a hope vvhich he never realized. No treatment seemed
ever to arrest the progress of the complaint, or afford him any
material or permanent relief. The cause lay too deep for the reach
of human skill. 57

450 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850.
Tuesday before Easter, March 26, after explaining the delay of
his customary letter, he says, " Our occupations are various, though
not very laborious, considering among how many the work is dis
tributed. Sermons, however, must be thought out and put on paper ;
and in this part of my duty I cannot expect much release from
labor. We had a lecture every evening last week ; but my own
were derived from a pile which had not yet been in requisition in my
new parish. This week we alternate, morning and evening, with
sermons ; and the return of this affecting season always suggests a
thousand new ones." He acknowledges in grateful and compli
mentary terms the aid afforded him in the Sunday evening sermons
by the Rev. Mr. Hudson, while dividing the other services with his
assistant, the Rev. Mr. Prescott. But he nevertheless feels the
great responsibility resting upon his own exertions. " Hence,"
he adds, " I am obliged to apply myself this way just about as
much as I can bear, and excuse myself to my correspondents gen
erally." His next letter, Wednesday in Easter week, speaks thus of the
great festival, and of some of the pleasant things which attended it :
" Our church was very full, and a larger number of communicants
than at any time before. Offertory large. I have received many
Easter gifts, tokens of love and affection, from members of the
parish ; and among other grateful ones was a purse from the
ladies, to be used in journeying for my health. They are desirous
to have me leave at once ; and perhaps I shall be ready to start at
the beginning of next week. The only direction that is inviting at
this season is a southern one ; and I thought some of going to
Washington or Baltimore. I shall, however, come home first."
The following acknowledgment of the aforesaid gift is here re
corded with much pleasure : — Boston, Easter Tide, 1850.
My dear Friend : I am anxious to let you know, within the
octave of the great festival, how grateful I am for the Easter gift
of the ladies of the parish ; and before another octave I hope to
plume my Easter wings for a flight. I will not, if I can help it,
throw any obstacle in the way of what was intended to minister to
my health and improvement ; and I shall go the more sanguine of
benefit from the conviction that I carry with me the prayers of so
many to ' avail much' in securing the blessings of restored health.
If, indeed, it be expedient for us that I go away, (and of this I do
not pretend to be the best judge,) and I may lawfully use His high
words, I hope that it will be only for a little while, and that I may
return with strength and will to serve God more faithfully in my
office, to the glory of his name and th >. edification of his church.
Remember me affectionately to each of the subscribers by name ;

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 451
and desiring the still further continuance of their good offices in the
charity of their prayers, Believe me, ever yours in Christ,
W. CROSWELL.
Miss Mary Callahan, for herself and ladies.
He is now found preparing to avail himself of the kindness and
liberality of his friends, and forecasting his plans for his anticipated
journeyings. These are not very definite. He says, " I am not
sanguine in expectations of benefit from journeying merely, think
ing that I need rest rather than excitement, however amusing ; and
medical treatment perhaps more than either, if I knew what to
choose between old and new modes, hydropathy, &c. I should be
disposed to go to Northampton for a while, but that the season is
too early, and the country very uninviting." He had been through
one course with Dr. Cross, without having experienced any essential
relief. He expresses his intention of persevering, however, and of
continuing through another course at some future time. He pro
poses to proceed on his journey immediately, — stopping at Hartford
for a space, and enjoying the society of his friends there, — and
then, after making a visit at New Haven, to go on in a southern
direction. " I shall, of course," he says, " be glad to avail myself of
Mr. Curtiss's kindness. New York has always ecclesiastical
attractions to offer. I shall probably go on to Newark, Burlington,
and Philadelphia ; but perhaps no further south, at present." He
suggests the possibility of going also to Albany, Troy, and even to
Auburn ; but leaves the decision to be governed by circumstances.
During his journey, he found but little time or opportunity to
keep up his correspondence. His notes are very hasty, containing
little else than brief sketches of his daily movements. His first to
his father, April 16, is from New York, where he had been for a
day or two enjoying the hospitalities of his friend Mr. Curtiss, and
meeting with many of his brethren, particularly the Rev. Mr. Coxe,
who was also on his way southerly. The next is dated on the fol
lowing day at Philadelphia, where he again met with Mr. Coxe and
his travelling companions. The next is from Washington, April
18, in which he says, " I wrote you from Philadelphia. Much to
my gratification, Mr. Coxe met me in the cars, and we resumed our
journey together yesterday. I did not perceive any change for the
better in the weather as we came this way, nor any more promise
of vernal scenery. We arrived at Baltimore — dined — visited the
Cathedral, St. Paul's, and the Church of St. Alphonsus— ascended the
monument — and left again at five for Washington. We had an
exhilarating time, — though the country is forlorn and desolate
enough, — and the dome of state met our eager eye not far
from seven. Coxe went down to Alexandria, and I to take my

452 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850.
ease in my inn, after a long walk to reach it. ... I obtaiued
an introduction to the floor of the Senate at twelve. Previous to
that I looked at every thing to be seen about the Capitol, within and
without, and sat out the whole debate in the Senate ; though, but
for the name of it, it would hardly have heen more interesting than so
much time in our own hall of deputies. I heard most of the great men
of the nation say a few words. Webster had been engaged in an
argument in the supreme court, and was silent. Clay is still a most
persuasive and silver-tongued speaker." Writing on the same day
to a friend in Boston, he says, " There is a marked transition from
all that we are used to see, after you reach Philadelphia. The style
of the dwellings and the public buildings — the universal use of
large, white, solid shutters, with bolts and rings to the lower
windows, as if it were a garrison town, or one that had its fear of
a mob before its eyes perpetually — (as it may well have reason to
in this city of brotherly love) — the airy and tasteful style of the
ladies' dresses on the promenade — the monotonous correspondence
of one block or square to another — the appearance of the black
servants at the hotels and houses generally, are among the things
that make you feel a change. . . . We were much struck with
the very frequent ' bowing ' of the windows ; that is, setting the
shutters at an angle, with crape or ribands at the rings, to indicate
bereavement in the household. It was touching to see it at all ; but
it was so frequent as to lead one to suppose that there had been
here unusual mortality. So much of ceremonial, and of this kind,
among a people who do not wear mourning, and who cast off all
outward symbol, is hardly what we should expect. It seems to bring
to mind, and perhaps grew out of, the old English habit which led
families of distinction to put up funeral hatchments on the walls of
their houses during the year of mourning. ... I would like to
have all good Christians visit the Church of St. Mark, just completed
in Philadelphia, with a school building in the same enclosure, looking
like a religious house. . . . We spent an hour or two in Balti
more in saying our prayers in St. Paul's Church, Dr. Wyatt's, which
cost, as the guide books say, one hundred and twenty thousand
dollars, and makes one lament that it had not been more judiciously
laid out. It is perfectly anomalous. However, it is much in advance
of the Cathedral, where there is the usual disgusting combination of
meanness and magnificence — dirt and divinity — wliich characterize
Popish places of worship." Again, on the 20th, after speaking of
a pleasant visit to some old friends, he adds, " Last night being the
levee night at the White House, we waited on the president, and
saw him and all the men of mark." He is now ready for his return ;
and on Monday, April '22, dates from Philadelphia: " I arrived here
from Baltimore on Saturday evening. Yesterday was a beautiful
day ; and I worshipped at St. Mark's all day, having spent the inter-

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 453
mission with the rector and a few clergy. I intended to have gone
on to Burlington this afternoon ; but our purpose changes with the
changing hour. It begins to rain again, and the weather is fit for
nothing but cars and steamboats ; and I purpose to push on to
Newark in the half past four o'clock train, expecting to be there
about eight. St. Mark's day I expect to spend in New York ; and
the next day I hope to return with a glad and grateful heart to the
haven where I would be. Philadelphia is a delightful city, and I
have no wish ever to go south of it." At this time he was expecting
his wife and daughter to meet him at New Haven ; and he adds,
" In this way we shall be able to spend Sunday and most of the
following week together. I am satisfied that short journeys are
better for me at present than long, and rest rather than excitement.
I do not think it well, either, for me to be absent any considerable
time from my parish, however I may make brief excursions." But
he was disappointed in this expectation. His wife was too unwell
to undertake the journey. After returning, therefore, to New
Haven, and making his visit alone, he proceeded to Boston, where
he arrived on the 3d of May.
" Health and benediction ! " is his first salutation after his return
to his post. He found that cares and duties bad accumulated in
consequence of his absence. "But, notwithstanding," he says, "I
feel as if I had received decided benefit from my journey, and my
nerves are much steadier than they have been for some time."
But whatever benefit may have been derived from this temporary
relaxation of his labors, he does not appear to have followed up his
advantage by similar excursions ; for, immediately after his return,
he is found diligently employed in his customary duties, and before
the expiration of the month, during the absence of his assistant,
as appears by his letter, Monday, May 27, he subjected himself to
an unusual amount of labor : " I was willing to see what my
strength would bear last week, and am happy to find it equal, thus
far, to all demands. I conducted the morning and evening service
unassisted, besides attending to the other duties, which were not in
considerable, and preaching on Friday evening. Yesterday (Trin
ity Sunday) we were disappointed by the setting in of the storm,
which diminished the numbers in attendance. The congregation
was very respectable, notwithstanding, and I administered the com
munion to eighty or more. 1 was at the Sunday school in the
morning, and entirely alone in all the services. In the afternoon, I
read service, preached, and attended to the singing of the children.
I am remarkably well to-day. I think I am gradually gaining on
my complaint, and hope that I shall be able, by the end of my
present engagement, to dispense with any assistance, except from
time to time, when I especially need it. ... I may make a
brief visit to Albany. But I shall be absent as few Sundays as

454 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [13 J ).
possible, and I "shall not allow myself to be absent for a long time
at once."
Sunday evening, June 2, he writes, "I wrote you, bright and
early, last Monday morning, in a great flow of spirits, having to
congratulate myself on having gone on thus far without any assist
ance, or feeling the want of any. . . . This week also I have
gone on alone, and much to my satisfaction. On Wednesday, I
was invited to officiate as chaplain to the Medical Society dinner ;
and, being called out by the president, made a short speech." This
address was extempore, and he appears to have been " quite as
much surprised as gratified" at his success. "But," he says, "I
felt it due to make a special effort for the doctors of our parish ;
and, as the old preachers say, I had great freedom given me, nor
was in any wise straitened." There was no report of this speech;
but the following sketch is found, in his own handwriting, of so
much of it as his memory could recall : " I feel that I am ventur
ing out of my element. But I cannot forbear taking this occasion
to make such poor acknowledgments as I can pay, in behalf of the
clergy, for all that we owe to the medical faculty. Sir, I do not
allude to personal or professional attentions to me and mine for the
last twenty years without fee or reward, though I might speak feel
ingly on that score. Nor do I allude to what I have seen and known
of their devotion and self-sacrifice, by night and by day, in the
obscure chambers of the sick poor, or in the blessed charity of our
hospitals. But it is with reference to that reproach of irreligion
with which the profession has been sometimes branded, and which
made it a common proverb in Digby's time ; though, as he says in a
parenthesis, (among those of the unlearned sort,) ' Ubi tres medici,
duo athei ' — Wherever there are three physicians, two are atheists.
However it might have been in other times or other countries,
among us, at least, the imputation is entirely unfounded. Taught
from my childhood to honor and revere the medical faculty, —
represented before my eyes in the person of more than one aged
relative, — I have lived to feel that a special tribute of gratitude is
due for their stand, as a body, on the side of religion, their prompt
and generous efficiency in strengthening the hands of their clergy,
and their rallying to the support of all divine institutions. Sir, 1
speak from heartfelt experience, and I could give many illustrations.
To come nearer home, in the humble parish with which I am con
nected, there were at the outset several physicians. The enterprise
may, indeed, be said to have originated with them ; and they have
been, through all, the pillars of the society. Some years since, we
ventured in faith to honor God in restoring his daily worship, morn
ing and evening, in his sanctuary. Our physicians were most for
ward in this good work ; and there has seldom been an occasion,
from that day to this, that some of them have not been in attend-

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 455
ance, and those often iu the fullest practice. On the Lord's day.
of course, all are habitually in their places, and among our most
interested and devoted members. Nor is this a peculiar case. The
same state of things is observable, only more conspicuously, in the
larger parishes of the city with which I am most familiar. And 1
rejoice to see around us distinguished and eminent members of this
body whom I have long been happy to recognize as also men
famous in those congregations — men of renown, Christian as
well as scientific renown. And so it is, I doubt not, generally
through our whole commonwealth. So indeed it should be, for so
it was in the very beginning. One of the four pillars in the Chris
tian temple vvas Luke, the beloved physician. As the bosom friend
and counsellor of the great apostle in all the perils of his journey,
in the tumult at Jerusalem, in his bonds, in his shipwreck, in his
imprisonment, and in his last fiery trial, when no man stood by him,
but all men forsook him, Luke, and Luke only, was with him.
Such was the glorious distinction of Luke, the beloved physician —
the model doctor for all generations. If it did not seem to smell
too strongly of the cloth, I might be tempted to show what pains the
Church had taken, for fourteen hundred years at least, to honor and
embalm his memory, to keep it alive and green, in her solemn
annual commemorations on the 18th day of October, to invite every
Christian physician to unite with us on that day in keeping up its
edifying observance, and to press his character now upon the imita
tion of those who, with the treasures of his cultivated mind, have
the same professional advantages for distinguishing between the
natural and supernatural, in those mighty works of wonder and of
love which are recorded by St. Luke as the foundation of man's
belief in all ages."
In the same letter, he writes, " The next day, Thursday, I offi
ciated at the church, at the funeral of MivPelby, the manager of
the National Theatre. Never was there such a concourse as as
sembled on that occasion, and every thing was done decently and
in order. The service was very impressive ; and the profession
seemed to be, many of them, much affected. I have received
many tokens of their grateful appreciation of my ministrations.
. . . On Friday of both weeks I have preached a sermon at
the evening service ; have preached on both Sundays, and admin
istered the Holy Communion on both days to unusual numbers.
To-day, Rev. Dr. Eaton assisted me in distributing the elements.
I have tested my strength, and find it equal to all that has been
required of it. I indulge the expectation, that at the end of this
term I shall be able to dispense with any assistance."
Having anticipated some enjoyment in seeing Gliddon's mummy
unrolled, he tells of his disappointment in these terms, June 7 :
" Gliddon has made the most of his show. It turns out that the

456 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1850.
mummy is not a mammy, after all. The young priestess is a man
buried by accident in the wrong box, which mars the sentiment of
the thing, much as a lubberly boy in women's clothes. It was an
interesting spectacle, notwithstanding."
In a letter of June 14, he speaks of taking, at his earliest conven
ience, an excursion to Albany, Troy, and Auburn. And in one or
two subsequent letters, he expresses a hope, rather than any confi
dent expectation, of accomplishing his wishes. He was unable, on
account of his absorbing cares, to attend the annual commencement
of Trinity College, and was often obliged to apologize for the brev
ity of his weekly communications to his father. August 5, he says,
" I have only time for hints. I have been quite alone this last
week, making, yesterday, the eleventh Sunday since my assistant
left me. Whit Sunday was his last appearance. . . . Apart
from duty to the Church, I must indulge a little in idleness, and
refrain even from good words, though it were pain and grief to
me." But, having subsequently made arrangements for a brief
absence from his parish, he left on Monday, September 2, with his
wife and daughter, and having parted with them at Springfield,
where they took the cars for New Haven, he proceeded to Albany.
He also visited Troy and Utica, but went no farther west, on ac
count of the limited time allowed for his absence. He returned by
the way of New Haven, where he again joined his wife and child,
and arrived at Boston on Saturday, September 14, after an absence
of only thirteen days, during which he had met a great number of
his friends, and passed through many interesting and exciting scenes.
At Albany, on the 3d, he was present at the consecration of the
Church of the Holy Innocents by Bishop Whittingham. While
at Utica, he visited Trenton Falls, " and had," he says, " a fine
ramble about the ravines of the falls, which were seen to the best
possible advantage from. being swollen into a torrent of turbulent
power by the late rain." On Sunday, the 8th, he attended the ser
vices of the Chapel of the Holy Cross, at Troy ; and again, on
Tuesday, he was present, with some twenty clergymen, at the anni
versary of the Bible and Prayer Book Society, in the same church.
But notwithstanding the fatigue and excitement of this journey, he
returned to his post, and again entered upon his duties on Sunday,
the 15th, and not only officiated all day without assistance, but at
evening, when all was over, found time to address a short letter to
his father. " I really feel," he says, " very much benefited by my
journey and the return of the cool weather; and the duties of the
day, which I have conducted alone, have set very lightly upon me.
All things have gone on as I could most have desired in my absence,
and all seem glad of my return."
From this time to the close of the year his letters are chiefly con
fined to private and domestic matters, and few incidents remain to

1850.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 457
be recorded. In October, having been invited to attend the nup
tials of a daughter of an early friend and classmate, he passed a
day or two at New Haven, and on his return he persuaded his
father to accompany him to Boston. This visit, though short, in
cluding the Feast of St. Luke and one Sunday, vvas nevertheless
made an occasion of mutual gratification ; more especially as his
father was enabled, by taking nearly the whole burden of the ser
vices, to afford him, for the time being, the relief which he very much
needed. Nor did he forget, at the earliest opportunity, to acknowl
edge the obligation. Writing to his father immediately after this
exchange of visits, he says, " It seems to be the universal impres
sion, that it will be your duty to make up for our lack of episcopal
visitations by coming on quarterly, or semiannually at least, and
doing for us what our bishop will hardly be able to do for any par
ish. . . . Your appearances will make red-letter days in the
calendar, to whose returns we shall look forward with increasing
interest as years wear on."
During the autumn, the Rev. Samuel Farmar Jarvis, D. D., spent
a few weeks in Boston, for the purpose of superintending the publica
tion of the first volume of his Ecclesiastical History — the great work
on which he had bestowed many years of labor. At this time his
health was much impaired, and his eyesight had become so defec
tive, that his friends began to entertain fears that he might not
be spared to see even this first volume through the press. Under
judicious medical treatment, however, he so far recovered as to be
able to attend to the business which called him to Boston, and to
join in the daily worship, and occasionally to preach in the Church
of the Advent. In several letters the rector speaks of him in
terms of great veneration and affection. He mentions an extem
pore discourse on Advent Sunday as " a solemn and impressive ser
mon." Again, of his sermon on the following Sunday, he says,
Dr. Jarvis gave us an impressive and interesting lecture on one
ofthe prophecies of Isaiah ; and though much broken, his power is
still considerable, and he was listened to with marked attention. I
think that the doctor has enjoyed his visit here very greatly ; and the
Church of the Advent has been the channel through which much
of this enjoyment has come." Finally, writing on the 15th, he says,
" Dr. Jarvis left on Friday, after making a very pleasant visit, both
to us and himself. He purposes to go on to Buffalo about the 20th,
to spend Christmas with Gen. Porter at Niagara Falls." In con
nection with this visit, the doctor had engaged, should his health
permit, to deliver a lecture before the Young Men's Institute at
Buffalo. But in all these anticipations he was disappointed by an
afflictive stroke of Providence. He had proceeded no farther than
Troy, before he became dangerously ill, and was compelled to
return to his home in Middletown, where, after a lingering and
58

45? MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
distressing sickness, he expired in the latter part of tbe ensuing
March. The close of this year was also marked by another afflictive dis
pensation, in the death of the Rev. Isaac Boyle, D. D. He was a
clergyman of great personal worth, and possessed fine talents and
extensive attainments. But in consequence of extreme deafness and
other infirmities, he had been for some years disqualified for the gen
eral performance of the public duties of his calling. In social inter
course, however, he was among the most interesting of men — bril
liant in wit, and rich in all the varied gifts of conversation. The rector
of the Advent had been much in his company, and always treated him
with the utmost respect and veneration. He relates the circumstances
of his sickness and death with much feeling. December 2 : "I was
at Dr. Boyle's this morning, and found him dying and unconscious.
I read the commendatory prayer. He was attacked on Friday
very violently with convulsions, and is dropping off in a fatal stu
por, from which he will never be roused again in this world. His
end, happily, will be that of the righteous." November 9 : " Dr.
Boyle died last week, and was buried from Trinity Church on Thurs
day last. I loved him dearly, and mourn his loss very sincerely —
to the Church, not less than to myself. What stores of accumu
lated learning and wisdom seem to be lost with him, at least, to
sight ! though I cannot believe that such treasures are for this Ufe
only."

1851.
The reader may judge of the emotions of the biographer on
opening the record of this eventful year — the year that brought to
a sudden termination the labors of this faithful and devoted servant
of Christ. He was now advancing rapidly to his rest and to his
reward. Of this he was happily entirely unconscious. Notwith
standing the plain indications of an increase of his infirmities, he
entered upon the duties of the year with all his accustomed zeal and
ardor, without abating one jot or tittle of his manifold labors. In
a note, January 3, 1851, to some ladies of his parish, acknowl
edging the gift of a beautiful inkstand, he says, " In my own case,
I dare only hope that this fountain will never lend its aid to frame
one sentence, which, dying, I would wish to blot ; and that its last
office, like this its first, may be to record the Christian affection that
binds me to those whom I have ever found in all trials ' kind hearts
and true.'" In his first letter to his father, dated on Sunday
evening, January 5, he says, " I do not write because I have time to

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 4,JL)
say much, but to keep up a good habit, in which I hope to perse
vere through the coming year, of securing a few moments on Sunday
evening for this duty. May it be an acceptable year of the Lord
to us all. . . . The last week has been a busy one. I had to
encroach on Saturday night more than my wont to get ready for
to-day. I prepared myself to preach both parts of the day, and
have had the whole service and a large communion. To-morrow,
being the feast of the Epiphany, the same interesting duty will be
repeated. I feel remarkably well this evening, and so indeed are
we all. It is not expedient, however, to use the quill much ; and
you will, I am sure, take the will for the deed." Again, on the
12th, in a short note written between the afternoon and evening
services, he says, " The day has been fine for the season. I have
been unassisted, but feel quite fresh and vigorous for the balance.
We open to-night, for the first time this season." On this occasion,
however, he had the aid of the Rev. Dr. Edson, in the sermon, of
which he speaks in the highest terms of gratification. On the fol
lowing Sunday, he was again alone and unassisted during the day ;
but he had the benefit of the Rev. Dr. Francis Vinton's services
in the evening, who preached, by appointment, an impressive ser
mon in behalf of the Seamen's Mission ; and before the next ensu
ing Sunday, his father came to his relief. This visit included the
Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul, the 25th, and the third Sunday
after the Epiphany, the 26th. On both of these occasions, as well
as in the daily service, his father bore a principal part — delivering
a short address on St. Paul's day, and preaching three sermons on
Sunday. One or two incidents connected with this visit, of which
he had previously apprised his father, gave peculiar interest to the
occasion. Of the first, he writes in this manner : " Mr.  ex
pects to have his child baptized ; and as his name is to be ' Harry,'
he would be pleased, if it were not presuming, to have you stand in
his behalf. It will be the first of the name that I have ever bap
tized." In relation to the other, he mentions an invitation to " an
evening parish party of gentlemen " at the house of one of the leading
members of his parish, and adds, " Understand, that this is simply an
evening assemblage of those exclusively who are connected with
our parish, to afford them an opportunity of seeing each other
under pleasant circumstances and free from all constraint, and of
giving all an opportunity of seeing you. The effect of such a gath
ering occasionally is, doubtless, very happy ; and in the present
posture of our affairs, may be peculiarly salutary." In both cases,
these invitations were complied with, and were made the occasion
of much mutual enjoyment ; and the hope was expressed, that such
visits might be often repeated in the course of the year. But it did
not please a wise Providence so to order. This was the last visit
that he was permitted to receive from his father during his life.

460 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
On the first Sunday in February he had the assistance of the
Rev. Dr. Hale, president of Geneva College, in the sermon for
the afternoon, and the Rev. Mr Stickney in the evening. And on
the following Sunday afternoon he was favored with a sermon from
the Rev. Mr. Tremlett, from the British provinces, who had come
tf) Boston with the expectation of preaching in the newly-formed
parish of St. Botolph, but had been peremptorily forbidden by tlie
bishop, on the ground of some technical informality. Thus, by a
kind Providence, did he obtain from his brethren, from different
quarters, much seasonable relief. He was also kindly favored, es
pecially by the Rev. Mr. Stickney, in the daily service. But still
the constant recurrence of these services, with a good amount of
pastoral duty, undoubtedly overtasked his powers. Hence it was
deemed expedient, if not absolutely necessary, to seek occasional
relaxation in short excursions among his friends abroad. Accord
ingly, availing himself of the companionship of a friend, and leav
ing the parish in charge of his brother Stickney, he absented
himself for a few days, proceeding from Boston to Hartford on
Tuesday, the 18th, thence to New Haven on the 19th, and to New
York on Saturday, the 22d. Here he spent the Sunday ; returned
to New Haven on Monday, and to Boston on Tuesday, the 24th —
thus, in the compass of a single week, visiting many dear friends,
and drawing from his social intercourse with his family and breth
ren a large amount of enjoyment. From his own representation,
it is to be presumed that he also derived much benefit from the
excursion. Writing on the Sunday evening after his return, March
2, he says, " I found myself very fresh and vigorous after my ride."
After speaking of having rented a larger and better house than the
one in which the family had hitherto resided, and of the laborious
preparations for removing, he adds, " The parish continues to be
healthy and prosperous ; and I hope to have a large class of can
didates for confirmation. To-day I have been preaching twice, in
preparation for Lent. I had a little assistance in the morning from
Rev. Dr. Eaton and Rev. Mr. Monroe ; but this afternoon I was
quite alone, administering holy baptism, over and above the usual
exercises. Our church was very full this morning, and the largest
number at communion that had ever attended at once." Hi snext
letter, first Sunday evening in Lent, is somewhat taken up with an
account of his moving, which, he says, they all consider as a " very
suitable occupation for the season — a penitential discipline." But
he anticipates a great improvement in their household enjoyments.
« The daylight," he says, " is just beginning to shut in ; but before
it is quite gone, I must try to find time to jot down the engage
ments of the week. All the time not otherwise occupied iii pasto
ral duty has been given to this moving task — most profitable to
keep one in mind that we are dwelling in tents, as strangers and

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 461
pilgrims, looking, I trust, for the building of God, the house not
made with hands, among the many mansions opened for us by our
Sayior. We had two solemn services on Ash Wednesday. I had a
little assistance at the second from Rev. Mr. Lambert, but did all
the preaching. . . . Mrs. Grosvenor had kept me apprised,
down to Thursday or Friday, of poor Dr. Jarvis's condition. I
am expecting every mail to hear that he has fallen asleep. Good
old man ! his cup has been very full of sorrow and sore trouble ;
but he has drank it to the dregs, like a Christian. He will enter
paradise, I firmly believe, as a vessel fitted, in the furnace of afflic
tion, for the Master's use, to everlasting honor, while the Church on
earth will long have reason to mourn his loss. The death of Dr.
Ogilby deprives us of another choice treasure, to be added to what
vvas before laid up in heaven." His next letter is dated from 31
Green Street, March 17, in whicli he says, " The discouraging work
of moving vvas safely accomplished last week, and we are in our
new house, and chaos is gradually giving place to the genius of
order ; and now that we are fairly able to judge of what the ad
vantages of the change really are, we can hardly overestimate
them." He closes this letter with an urgent appeal to his parents
to come and visit hiin : " And now, when the time of the singing
birds shall have come, and these rough winds softened down to a
vernal sweetness, and the St. Michael's pear tree," (standing in his
yard,) " which for fifty years has put forth its green leaves, un
changed amid all the changes round it, and as if it were still in the
midst of the garden, shall have blossomed once more, we shall hope
that mother and you will indulge us in one more visit together
ere life's stage is left."
It is unnecessary to pursue the details of his daily and weekly
labors, as given in his correspondence and journal. He frequently
acknowledges the aid of his visiting brethren ; and he generally
speaks in terms of encouragement of the continuance of the health
of himself, as well as the family. One or two short passages from
his letter of March 24 will serve to show how readily his sympa
thies were awakened by every passing case of mortality or distress :
" I am expecting to hear by every mail that Dr. Jarvis has fallen
asleep. The last accounts were very discouraging. Death has
been very busy this last year among our ranks ; and some of his
victims have been ' bright and shining marks.' I have just been to
see the books, pictures, and paintings which have been sent home
from the Mediterranean, the relics of our old and dear friend
Searle. It is a melancholy errand, and almost makes me sick."
Again, in reference to the case of apparent decline in the health of
a young man, the son of a very particular friend, who had just en
tered upon the business of life, with every reasonable prospect of
prosperity, happiness, and usefulness, he says, " His friends may

462 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
well be anxious, lest he should wither away under it. How often,
alas ! in all schemes of human felicity, all is destroyed by a worm
in the bud."
Before the date of another letter, (Mid-Lent, Sunday evening,)
he had been apprised of the death of Dr. Jarvis, and had been
invited to attend his funeral. " This," he says, " I should have
been glad to do, if a day had intervened before Sunday ; but I
feared the effect of the excitement and exhaustion ; and I needed
to be the stronger, as the Holy Communion was celebrated, as
usual, on this day, at our church, and I had no reason to expect
assistance. Meanwhile, I did such honor as my means would ad
mit to the doctor's memory, in my sermon this morning, much to
the satisfaction of a large congregation." In this letter, he again
recurs to the case of Rev. Mr. Searle : " I feel the weight of
those bereavements the more, since the Rev. Mr. Searle's sermons,
letters, and private papers were quite unexpectedly put at my dis
posal by his friends this last week." Some two weeks had elapsed
since his effects had been received from the Mediterranean ; and he
concludes, if they should not be claimed by his friends, he should
call in the aid of the Rev. Mr. Lambert, Mr. Searle's successor in
the Navy Yard ; and after selecting such as they should think meet
to preserve, should commit the rest to the flames.
Writing on Sunday evening, April 6, he says, " Dr. Eaton, who
was with me, was quite overcome with faintness, and obliged to
leave at the close of the morning service, and before the ante-
communion. I was quite startled, at the moment — the number of
sudden deaths of late having been very alarming. But I was quite
relieved to hear that it was but temporary."
Wednesday before Easter, April 16. " We had three services
on Palm Sunday, of which I bore the unassisted burden ; and after
all was over, was in conference with Mr. John P. Tarbell, about
bearing him company, in an absence of sixty days, to Havre and
the Rhine — the voyage being necessary, in his own case, to recruit
his health ; and the time of sailing being fixed for Easter Tuesday."
On consulting his medical and other friends, he concluded to decline
this kind proposal. " A voyage," he says, " in the abstract, it is
admitted, on all hands, would be of service ; but it is thought that
two voyages, with such a short interval between, filled up with the
unavoidable excitement of Parisian life, in the mean- while, would
not be just the thing. . . . I am satisfied that brief absences,
ministering to repose, are best for me and all interests here.
I think now, if all things should favor, that I might spend a few
days with my brother at Albany, and perhaps get out to Auburn
before my return. But all as yet is conjectural. Brother Stick
ney is with me at the services of this solemn week ; and I continue
to be very well, the ' jerks ' (the disorder in his face) excepted."

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 463
This is doubtless the proper place to insert another, and his last,
correspondence with his bishop on the subject of confirmation: 

I.
31 Green Street, Friday, April 11, 1851.
Right reverend and dear Sir : Will you do me the favor to
make an appointment for administering confirmation to the candi
dates at the Church of the Advent before the next meeting of the
diocesan convention 1 I renew the offer made in former years, to
place the church and all its arrangements at your entire disposal
for the service. Very respectfully, Your servant in the ministry,
W. CROSWELL.
To the Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts.
II. Tremont Street, April 14, 1851.
Revereotd and dear Sir : Since the receipt of your note of
Friday last, I have been examining my list of appointments, in
order to ascertain the practicability of appointing some day for con
firming your candidates just before the time of the meeting of the
convention, supposing it probable you are not yet ready for the ad
ministration of the rite. I find, however, that from the afternoon
of Tuesday in Easter week to the meeting of the convention my
time will be continually occupied. I regret the fact, and have
therefore to propose, that, if agreeable to you, the confirmation
take place on the morning of Tuesday in Easter week.
I regret that a sense of duty compels me again to decline com
ing to your church, and to appoint Trinity Church as the place.
Divine service to commence at eleven o'clock in the forenoon.
Very truly and sincerely yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. W. Croswell, D. D. III.
Reverend and dear Sir: A note addressed to you by myself
was by mistake dropped into the post office this morning, instead of
another letter. I mention this as an apology for any delay which
may occur in your receiving it, and also by way of explanation of
my communication coming through that conveyance.
Very truly, yours,
MANTON EASTBURN.
Rev. Dr. Croswell.
Tremont Street, April 14.

464 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
IV.
Thursday bepore Easter, April 17, 1851.
Right reverend and dear Sir : In reply to your favor of the
14th, proposing to administer confirmation to our candidates on
Easter Tuesday at Trinity Church, instead of the Church of the
Advent, I feel obliged to say, that apart from the objection which I
have to any other place of worship being substituted for our own,
and to any other time than Sunday, I should not be prepared to
present the candidates upon so short notice, and at so early a day.
As I deem it, however, of the utmost importance that the rite
should be administered before the conventional year expires, es
pecially as there will be a considerable number of candidates, per
mit me to inquire if any of the neighboring bishops who would be
willing to administer confirmation at our church, with your permis
sion, might not be allowed to do so.
Very respectfully, Your servant in the ministry,
W. CROSWELL.
The Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D.
V. Tremont Street, April 21, 1851.
Reverend and dear Sir : In my last note to you, I mentioned
that engagements, extending from the afternoon of Tuesday in Eas
ter week to the meeting of the convention, precluded the possibil
ity of my confirming your candidates within that period. Since
the receipt of yours of Thursday last, I have been enabled to dis
pense with an engagement to which I had appropriated the evening
of Sunday, the 18th of May; and I now write to say, that I shall
be ready on that evening to administer confirmation to those whom
you may present at St. Stephen's Chapel. The service will com
mence at half past seven.
That God may accompany the occasion with the blessing of his
Holy Spirit, is the fervent prayer of
Yours, very truly and sincerely,
MANTON EASTBURN.
The Rev. Dr. Croswell. IV. Boston, May 10, 1851.
Right reverend and dear Sir : My absence from town has
prevented an earlier reply to your favor of the 21st ultimo.
While my convictions are still the same as those which I have,
year by year, been constrained to express to you, in the way of pro
test, hereby renewed, against your continued neglect of the recog
nized rights of my parish, and your own official obligations in

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 465
refusing to visit the Church of the Advent, according to the pro
visions of the canon regulating episcopal visitations, I do, notwith
standing, instruct the unconfirmed members of my flock to embrace
any opportunity vvhich you may think proper to afford them, of ob
taining access to that apostolic ordinance, under whatever circum
stances of personal inconvenience to ourselves, or of undeserved
reproach ; and, according to your appointment, I shall present, with
divine permission, such candidates for confirmation as can be in
duced to accompany me to St. Stephen's Chapel, the rector consent
ing, on the evening of the fourth Sunday after Easter, May 18th.
Heartily responding to your fervent prayer, that God may ac
company the occasion with the blessing of his Holy Spirit,
I am, very sincerely, Your friend and presbyter,
W. CROSWELL.
Right Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., Bishop of Massachusetts
During the pendency of this negotiation, he was again absent
from his post for a few days, on one of those short excursions which
had been recommended by his friends, and for the expenses of
which they had generously provided. This excursion began very
pleasantly. He first went to Greenfield to attend a wedding — the
parties being among the best beloved of his young friends. Thence
he accompanied the bridal party to New Haven. Here, and at
Hartford, he spent a few days among his friends, and every thing
passed off much to his delight. But on returning to New Haven
on Monday, the 5th of May, the scene was sadly changed ; and
during the remainder of his visit, he was occupied, by night and
by day, in watching over his father, who was taken very suddenly
sick on the very night after his arrival. He thus writes to his wife,
May 6 : " We were all much alarmed, last night, that father, soon
after he went to bed, awoke in great pain, with some local difficulty
to which the aged are incident. At two o'clock, F. went after
the doctor, who remained all night. He obtained but little relief,
and the difficulty does not yet yield. The pain, at times, is very
intense, and must be very exhausting. The doctor does not seem
to be discouraged, but is hopeful that the complaint will soon be
abated. Of course, while father is so ill, I can say nothing with
regard to my return. I shall hope to be with you again by Thurs
day or Friday, but am obliged to speak doubtfully. I trust to
speak more definitely by to-morrow. These pains are too severe
to last very long. I dread to anticipate what yet is a possible re
sult." Happily, the most distressing and alarming symptoms in the
case soon subsided ; and on Friday his father had become so com
fortable that he ventured to return to Boston.
During this visit, his sympathies were also awakened by another
59

466 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
case, which affected him very deeply. He heard the afflicting in
telligence of the sudden death of Dr. Hobart Curtiss, a son of his
friend Cyrus Curtiss, Esq., of New York, a young physician of
great promise, who was at the time deputy health officer at Staten
Island, and fell a victim to ship fever, contracted while pursuing his
duty among the numerous patients at the hospital. The following
extract from r. letter to the young man's father will show how
readily his tears were mingled with those of the afflicted family :
"Your peculiar sorrow is one with which not only no stranger in*-. •
termeddleth, but the few only who have experienced it can ade
quately appreciate. I remember well the shock when our elder
brother died ; but it passed long since into a pensive recollection,
rather than a living grief, in my own case. Those who have been
intimate with our family know the shadow that then fell upon a
father's and a mother's heart, and that it will still fall darkly there
as long as life — I mean this life — continues. Miserable comfort
ers, indeed, at such a time, are the words of human lips ; but we
know, blessed be God, that, in every such visitation, the heavenly
Comforter draws very near to us. To his holy influence your
hearts have been habitually open, and they will not be shut now,
when broken hearts are yearning to be bound up. Your son has
left precious remains behind him. His open, generous, unselfish
nature, ever mindful of others, and forgetting his own interest in
theirs, endeared him to all who knew him. Humanly speaking,
your hopes seem to have perished abortively, and his sun has gone
down as it were even before its noon. At any period of life, how
ever, if you were to survive him, it would have been hardly less
premature. As it was, he was taken away before he had formed
any of those ties which, enhance the pain of parting — while all his
affections were yet centred about the home of his parents ; and
you had the comfort — sad, indeed, but real — of seeing him die in
your own household ; ministering with your own hands to his dying
needs, and breathing out his last in the embrace of those whom he
loved best. These are thoughts, not, perhaps, to assuage grief, but
to make it tender, and consecrated, and domestic. May God sanc
tify this great sorrow to every member of your family, and enable
you to comfort one another with the words which the Holy Ghost
teacfeeth in the Book of God."
After his return from this excursion, he applied himself diligently
to the preparation of his class for confirmation ; but of the whole
number desirous of receiving this rite, few only ¦ were willing to
submit any further to the unreasonable — not to say uncanonical —
course of the bishop, in refusing to visit the parish for the purpose
of administering the office in their own church. At the time ap
pointed, however, at half past seven o'clock in the evening, he went

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 467
over to St. Stephen's Chapel, and presented his little band of eleven
candidates for confirmation. In the subjoined extract from the
parochial report, which he presented to the diocesan convention on
the Tuesday following, and which, through the mysterious order of
Providence, proved to be his last, he records what may be consid
ered, under the circumstances, as his dying testimony and protest
against the wrong inflicted, as well on the parish as himself, by the
arbitrary and unwarrantable dictation of the bishop. After the
customary statistics, he adds, —
" This experiment, so called, of a free Church, for the daily
worship of God, entirely depending on the voluntary offerings of
the worshippers, has been signally successful. The number in at
tendance on the service is steadily increasing, as well as the amount
of consecrated alms that go up with our prayers, as a memorial
before God, ' on the first day of the week.'
" A font and altar, of beautiful proportions and workmanship,
after designs by F. Wills, Esq., have been presented to the church
since the last report, from funds bequeathed for this purpose by a
communicant recently deceased.
" The parish are again compelled to complain of the continued
denial of their right to episcopal visitation, as contemplated by the
canons. The list of candidates for confirmation presented by the
bishop's direction at St. Stephen's Chapel, on Sunday evening, May
18, is smaller, on this account, than it would have otherwise been."
These cares being over, he began again to lay plans, though
rather indefinite, for future excursions. But day after day passed
away; and though he greatly desired to be on his way, his pa
rochial engagements bound him down to his post. Writing to
his father, Sunday evening, June 1, he says, " The day has been
very pleasant, and our church full. The communion was one
of the largest which I have ever ministered. I have officiated
all day, assisted in the morning by good Dr. Eaton, who has quite
recovered his health and strength. After the evening service, I
went down to Christ Church, which has been closed all day, to
marry a couple and baptize an infant. These duties done, I feel
quite as fresh as could be expected under the circumstances."
On the Sunday evening following, (Whit Sunday,) being too
much fatigued by the labors of the day to take up the pen, he em
ployed his wife as his amanuensis ; and she gives, in the course of
the letter, a sketch of his duties for the week, besides what came
upon him daily, viz., four funerals, three of them in one day, two
marriages, and seven baptisms, on four several occasions.
His next is a brief letter, under his own hand, expressing his
gratification at the recent election of the Rev. Dr. Williams as
Assistant Bishop of Connecticut, and announcing his intention of

468 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
leaving Boston, on Tuesday, June 17, on a short visit to Hartford
and New Haven. They accordingly reached Hartford on the first
day, and on the next proceeded to New Haven. Here his wife
and daughter were to remain and prolong their visit ; but he could
allow no such indulgence for himself. The following Sunday being
appointed for preaching the Jubilee Sermon, he felt obliged to oc
cupy his own pulpit on the occasion. And as for the sermon itself,
that was still to be written. But in this case, as in all others, he
found himself equal to the emergency. Withdrawing, from time
to time, from the friends by whom he was surrounded, he prepared
his discourse, and was ready on Saturday evening to take his de
parture in the night train for Boston. Of the journey, his own
letter, written on Sunday evening, will give the best account :
" Health and benediction ! Commend me to the cars at night. I
shall never cease wondering how we were seated in them at New
Haven, at six o'clock in the evening, and set down by midnight in
the streets of Boston. Mahomet's supernatural steed could scarce
perform more astonishing feats. It would be a miracle, if not so
common. I like it better, on the whole, for the dark. It is cooler,
and you cannot see the dust, and even doze along ; and then you
are not crowded."
After a few days of labor, during the oppressive heat of the
season, feeling much exhausted, and willing to escape the noise and
confusion of the public celebration of the fourth of July, he took
the opportunity to make a flying visit to New Haven, where his
wife and daughter still remained. Leaving on the morning of the
1st, the journey was accomphshed in a few hours. It was not,
however, a very quiet visit ; for, on the 2d, he attended the conse
cration of the new church at Milford, nine miles distant ; and, on
the following day, he was present at the institution of the rector.
The 4th was spent pleasantly with his friends at New Haven ;
and on Saturday, the 5th, he returned, with his family, to Boston.
In a brief note of Sunday evening, he speaks of their safe arrival,
all well, except himself; and, notwithstanding his own indispo
sition, he adds, " It has not prevented me from full morning and
evening service and communion ; and the day has been so cool
that our attendance has been as large as usual. I do not feel any
worse for the labor."
During the remainder of the summer, though often almost inca
pacitated for duty, he found it quite impracticable to absent himself
from his parish. He was particularly disappointed in his fondly-
cherished expectations of meeting his brother in New Haven, in the
month of August. The calls for pastoral services were so constant
and indispensable, that he was obliged to content himself with a few
short 'excursions in the vicinity. And finally, on the last day of
summer, he writes, " I shall be stationary for a little while, having

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 469
an eye to a descent upon you in the course of the autumn, and, if
not before, shall hope to meet round the paternal board on the o-reat
family festival of Thanksgiving." In this fond anticipation, how
ever, he was disappointed. He was never again permitted to visit
his father's house, except for a single day, and this very near the
close of his life. A few more weeks only remained of his mortal
existence ; and this brief space vvas spent almost exclusively in the
arduous duties of his office.
On the first Sunday in September, he vvas engaged in a most
solemn and affecting service. He was summoned to Greenfield, to
attend the funeral obsequies of Dr. Alpheus Fletcher Stone, an
eminent and well-beloved physician, for whom and his family he
entertained the highest respect and affection. In his letter of the
next day, he writes, " I have suffered nothing, as I am aware, from
the journey, or from the highly-exciting services which drew the
whole village together as one man. ... I am very happy
that I was able to go. I preached in the morning ; and the whole
family were able to be at the communion." His friend Dr. Strong,
the rector of the parish, though in fipble health, was able to preach
the funeral sermon in the afternoon. He adds, "At four o'clock,
the funeral service superseded that of the afternoon. The church was
thronged, and multitudes about it, during the services. A long
procession was then formed to the grave : the choristers chanted
the anthem, ' I heard a voice from heaven,' and the emotion with
which it vvas sung gave it an expression truly touching. The sun
was making a golden set at the close ; and the doctor, in thanking
the assemblage for their attendance, made a beautiful allusion to it.
' We shall see,' says he, ' our friend again. Yonder sun has gone
brightly to his rest ; but he shall rise again to-morrow. And our
friend shall rise again on eternity's great morning, when the earth
and the sea shall give up their dead.' Every thing was done, vvhich
could be done, to pay proper respect to the memory of a good
man." But this, as appears from the short record of his remaining
days, was not the last time that he was called to mingle his sympa
thies and his tears with this afflicted family. They had sorrow upon
sorrow ; bereavement followed bereavement in quick succession ;
and within a period of two months, first a daughter, and then the
widow of Dr. Stone, were borne to the grave.
The biographer would not wish to be thought to make too much
of those incidents, which, as the time of his son's death approached,
were so frequent, and, now that he is gone, seem so like premoni
tions of his approaching end. He is aware how ready we all are
to persuade ourselves, in similar instances, to convert common occur
rences into extraordinary coincidences. And yet the tracing, or
the attempt to trace them, is certainly a harmless and pleasant task,
and may be made a profitable one. With this view, the following

470 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
extract from the sermon, just referred to as preached on the morn
ing of this day, is placed before the reader : —
" Standing as I do here, at this hour, in this sacred place, and
in view of these solemn rites, which fill my mind . . . having
much of infirmity to warn me of the shortness and uncertainty of
human life, — and doubtful whether I may ever be permitted to join
in such an assemblage on such an occasion again, — let me entreat
you, as a dying man speaking to dying"1 men, to think of these
things, as we follow the remains of the departed to their last resting-
place. Let not our assembling here be a barren, unavailing so
lemnity. Let it bear fruit. Let this solemn monition of our mor
tality fill us not only with compassionate sympathy with our bereaved
friends, but with solicitude to work -^ to work out our salvation
with that fear and trembling which befit those who know not at
what hour their Lord will come."
But his sympathies and his tears — his joys and his sorrows — his
labors and his cares — were soon to cease. Of the remaining in
cidents of his life, a few only of peculiar interest can be noted.
September 22, he writes, " Th§ Bishops of Fredericton and New
foundland were here for a part of a day, last week, on their way to
Montreal. They visited our church, and the former left word for
me that he would Uke to preach at the Advent on his return, and
make a collection for his cathedral, which is verging towards com
pletion. I have signified to him the delight which it would afford
us, and our vestry entered cordially into it. He will probably re
turn in the early part of October." October 6, having learned that
the Bishop of Fredericton had arrived at New York, he addressed a
respectful invitation to his lordship, to spend any Sunday at the
Church of the Advent which might suit his convenience. To this
invitation he received a prompt and favorable reply ; and he re
marks, in his letter of October 13,. " A pleasant interest is excited
in the parish by the announcement that the Bishop of Fredericton
will preach for us next Sunday. . . . He comes on Friday,
and will be the guest of Peter Wainwright, Esq." The day after
the bishop's arrival, being the Feast of St. Luke, he attended the
Church of the Advent, assisted in the services, preached a sermon
adapted to the day, and bore his appropriate part in the adminis
tration of the Holy Communion. Of his services on Sunday, the
rector's own language will convey the best idea. Writing to his
father the following day, he says, " The Lord Bishop arrived on
Friday, true to his time. I have been much with him till 12 o'clock
to-day, when he embarked for his diocese. His coming was most
providential, if only to convince all beholders of the true points in
an English bishop's character. He has charmed all who have seen
and heard him by his simple, unostentatious, straightforward char
acter. In the pulpit there is a quiet evenness of tone, and a

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT.

471

sweetness that veils the meekness and gentleness of Christ. His
sermons were beautiful. We have asked him for a copy, which he
has promised to give us, to be put into Boston type. It seems tha our
beloved diocesan considered his officiating for us as a great affront ;
did not call to see him ; and declined an invitation to dine with him.
To us, the value of the visit is more than we could pay for in sover
eigns ; and I suppose that Bp. E. knows it." This last remark
refers to an appropriation by the vestry of one hundred dollars to
his lordship, to aid him in the object of his visit. The following
further action of the vestry will serve to show in what high estima
tion the visit was held : —
" At a meeting of the rector, wardens, and vestry of the Church
of the Advent, in Boston, held October 26, 1851, it was
" Unanimously resolved, That the rector be requested to commu
nicate the thanks of this body, in behalf of the parishioners gener
ally, to his lordship the Right Rev. Bishop of Fredericton, for
his impressive and valuable discourses delivered in the Church .of
the Advent, on Sunday, the 19th instant, and to ask a copy for pub
lication, not only as a memorial of that interesting occasion, but as
calculated to serve the great and holy ends to which his lordship's
episcopal cares and labors have been so successfully devoted."
Tuesday, October 28, being the Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude,
the church was opened for prayers at nine, as usual, and for the Holy
Communion at eleven o'clock, the Rev. Dr. Eaton assisting the rector.
On the occasion, he remarks in his journal, "The Lord Bishop of
Newfoundland was present, and a partaker."
Having been invited to attend the consecration of the Rev. Dr.
Williams, the assistant bishop elect of the diocese of Connecticut,
on Wednesday, the 29th, he writes to his father, " It is my design
to meet you at Hartford on that interesting occasion, and to bring
my surplice and scarf with me, according to the request in the
Witness. It is something that the primitive diocese recognizes the
white vestment as the suitable one for all assisting in this high
solemnity. God willing, I shall leave here in the afternoon train of
Tuesday." This he was enabled to do after attending to the morn
ing services, as already noted, and leaving the parish in charge of
the Rev. Mr. Monroe. He adds, " I must be here on Friday
night, to give due attention to All Saints on Saturday ; and the
rather, as there will be communion the next day. But I shall find
time, of course, to look in at home before I return. I am glad
that you are to take a part in the ceremonial of consecration. I
hope it will be the last which any of the living clergy present will
be called to take part in. As old Bishop Andrews prays, ' Let
his age be like the age of Methuselah, his knowledge like the wis
dom of Solomon, and suffer not the face of thine anointed to be
cast down.' "

472 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
A few brief notes from his daily journal will furnish some partic
ulars of this, his last journey : —
" Wednesday, October 29, 1851. Being at Hartford, Connecticut,
the guest of my old friends Dr. Sumner and Mrs. Grosvenor, I
attended the consecration of Dr. Williams, assistant bishop elect of
that diocese, in St. John's Church. The clergy were all clad in sur
plices — not a gown to be seen in the whole number ; the primitive
diocese thus authenticating the proper sacerdotal dress to be worn
at these high solemnities. Took tea at Mr. Brinley's with Dr.
Wainwright and Mr. Burroughs. Walked in the dark and rain
to Bishop Williams's. All the bishops and many of the clergy
present." " Thursday, October 30. At half past eight, left in the cars for
New Haven. . . . Housed all day with parents and family, by
reason of rain. Happy shelter at such a time." Though compelled,
by his arrangements at home, to terminate this visit the next day,
he considered it among the happiest incidents of his life.
"Friday, October 31. Bright and pleasant. Wrote to Dr.
Muhlenberg, enclosing subscription for the ' Evangelical Catho
lic' At eleven, left for Boston. Reached home at 5." In this
letter to Dr. Muhlenberg, he enclosed, from memory, a copy of
the Hymn for Charity, which will be found at page 88 of this
work. It was published in the Evangelical Catholic, with a com
plimentary note. After his decease, the letter was also published ;
and it is transcribed, as among the last of his letters, with melancholy
interest : — New Haven, October 31, 1851.
Reverend and dear Sir :
" Be thou the first true merit to befriend ;
His praise is lost who stays till all commend."
With this couplet in my mind, I should have been more prompt
to express my gratification with your little catholic paper ; but
have been waiting in the hope to accompany it with a considerable
list of subscribers. When I return home, I intend to canvass the
parish with this view ; but in the mean while, lose no time in estab
lishing my own claim to the residue of the volume. The concep
tion corresponds with my own idea of the great object of any sheet,
large or small, and the manner of its execution answers all my ex
pectations. I send you an old hymn in little, as adapted to the
view and the ends you have in contemplation, and may offer you
something newer of the same description, should it be desirable.
" Stir up, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people, that they,
plenteously bringing forth the fruit of good works, may by thee be
plenteously rewarded, through Jesus Christ our Lord."

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 473
God strengthen, sustain, and prosper you in all your doings begun,
continued, and ended in him. Ever yours, in Christ,
W. CROSWELL.
On the evening of his return, he wrote a short note to his father,
announcing his safe arrival ; and on the following day, Saturday,
November 1, being the Feast of All Saints, he entered, with his
accustomed ardor and zeal, upon those labors which were so soon
to be brought to a sudden close. With the assistance of the Rev.
Mr. Monroe, he held the usual services, with the communion,
preaching also from the text, " Wherefore, seeing we also are com
passed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every
weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with
patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus." Heb. xii.
1, 2. On Sunday, November 2, being the twentieth Sunday after
Trinity, with the assistance of the Rev. Dr. Eaton and the Rev.
Mr. Monroe, the communion was again administered, and he
preached a sermon in continuation of the subject of the preceding
day. Of these two discourses, there will be occasion to speak again,
at the close of this sketch. At present, it is sufficient to say, that
could the preacher have been assured, at the moment, of his own
very near approach to the enjoyment and communion of the saints
in light, he could not have given higher evidence of his own con
viction of the reality of the doctrine which it was his aim to incul
cate. On the evening of this day he mailed his last letter to his
father. It was occupied chiefly with domestic matters. He speaks,
however, of the preceding services in high animation, and concludes
with a passage vvhich is now recorded with painful emotion. At
his recent visit, his cousin, E. S., had presented him with some very
choice note paper, coupled with an injunction, that he would return
it well filled with poetry ; to which he replied, that it was his in
tention again to indulge in his poetical vein. In reference to this
suggestion, he says, " I have tried to make a decent use of E.'s
paper in prose. The poetry must wait upon my leisure." Alas,
that the leisure was never granted ! that the poetry was never
written !
His few remaining days were devoted most faithfully to his pas
toral duties. In addition to the daily morning and evening prayer,
he spent much time in visiting the sick, the afflicted, and the desti
tute, ministering counsel, consolation, and alms, as the respective
cases required ; and preparing, as well as his opportunities would
permit, a special sermon, to be delivered to the children of the par
ish on the approaching Sunday. On Friday, November 7, his forty-
seventh birthday, he remarked to the Rev. Mr. Robinson, whom he
met at Mr. Stimpson's bookstore, "I must go home and finish my
60

474 MEMOIR OF WIL i/iM CROSWELL. [1851.
last sermon." This remark arrested the attention of the Rev. E. M.
P. Wells, who was also present, and who, in his peculiarly earnest
and affectionate manner, laid his hand familiarly upon the doctor's
shoulder, and said, "You do not mean, my brother, your last ser
mon, but your last sermon for this week." To this remark Dr.
Croswell made no reply, and soon after they separated, nevermore
again to meet on earth. This incident was related on the authority
of Mr. Wells, in the Christian Witness, and copied into other
publications of the day, coupled with a suggestion that it may have
indicated a presentiment of the near approach of the termination
of his labors on earth. But this does not necessarily follow. He
had often expressed an opinion that the multiplication of sermons, of
which he had already a great nurnber, could scarcely be deemed
expedient. And from several circumstances which occurred within
the few days immediately preceding, and on the very day of his
deaths it seems hardly probable that he was acting or speaking
undei-any such apprehension. But, be this as it may, the result
proved that the remark was prophetical of the fact ; for it was, lit
erally, his last sermon.
It was during this week, and near the close of it, that having
occasion to direct a letter to his intimate friend, the Rt. Rev. John
Williams, Assistant Bishop of Connecticut and President of Trini
ty College, he recurred, in the close of it, to the repeated afflic
tions which had fallen upon their common friends, the family of
Dr. Stone, of Greenfield ; and after mentioning that, having heard
that Dr. Strong was sick and much exhausted, he was himself
daily expecting a summons to Greenfield to attend the funeral of
Mrs. Stone, who then was at the point of death, he says, " These
repeated afflictions, which have in so short a time left so desolate a
home where you and I have been made so happy, seem indeed
mysterious ! I cannot understand them. But one thing I know :
' Right precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of
his saints ! ' " How aptly fitted was this thought, prepared, as
it were, for his own burial, to comfort his own surviving friends!*
On Saturday, November 8, he made his last entry in his journal.
This is a very brief record of the transactions of the day previous
to his death. Besides the ministrations already alluded to, he notes
especially his ineffectual search after a poor woman, who had ap
plied at his residence for charity, but who had not given correctly
the place of her abode. After the labors of the day were over, he
called upon, and took tea with, Miss Margaret Coffin, an elderly
lady, with whom he had been long associated in works of charity,
ffom whose hand he had experienced many acts of kindness, and
for whose Christian character he entertained the highest respect
» It has been supposed that this was the last letter written by him.

1851.] CHURCH OF THE ADVENT. 475
and veneration. He retired early, with the most pleasant anticipa
tions of the solemnities of the ensuing day.
It vvas his last day, that day of tribulation and sorrow to his
friends, when he closed his solemn duties in the church militant,
and entered into his rest. He rose early, and appeared in fine
health and spirits, without the slightest indication of indisposition,
or apprehension of approaching danger. Agreeably to previous
arrangements, the Rev. Mr. Estes preached the morning sermon,
while he bore his part in the services, and, at the proper time, pub
lished the following notices : —
" I propose to preach to the children this afternoon, on a part of
the first lesson for the morning. I hope the children of the parish
will all be in church."
" A course of instruction on the subject of confirmation will be
continued every Wednesday evening, after divine service. Due
notice of the time and place of administering the rite will be given.
In the mean while, all who are interested are invited to attend." *
During the intermission, it was remarked by his family that he
never appeared more cheerful. He seemed to promise himself
much enjoyment in the approaching services — first, in admitting
an infant, by holy baptism, into the bosom of the Church ; and
last, in addressing the little. ones of his flock, in whose spiritual
welfare he took the deepest interest. His sermon to the children,
from 2 Kings v. 2, 3, was written in a style of beautiful simplicity,
perfectly plain, and well adapted to the capacity of his juvenile
hearers, and yet full of the most sublime and elevated thoughts.
As he proceeded in the delivery, it was perceived that he occasion
ally betrayed some signs of faltering in his speech ; but this was
very naturally imputed to his emotions, and would not have at
tracted particular notice, had he not also, from time to time, placed
his hand in an unusual manner upon the back of his head, as if
suffering from pain or distress. " The children," remarks an eye
witness, " were much affected as they saw, or thought they saw, tears
stealing from his eyes. His voice, which was ever gentle and soft,
and could scarce shape itself to a tone of reproof but that it would
falter into music, meanwhile assumed, as from some presentimental
emotion, those tones of tender pathos vvhich rendered his speech no
* These notices were found in his Prayer Book, and are preserved as the last
relics of his handwriting, with the exception of the date and address of a let
ter which he permitted Ms little daughter, who was detained from church by
indisposition, to write to her grandfather. She commenced the letter in ink,
thanking her grandfather for a book which he had given her, and expressing
a hope that she might commit many of the pieces to memory. But before the
letter was finished, she added, in pencil, these remarkable lines : " Father was
in the middle of his sermon when he was taken faint, and he was brought
home in grandma Carpenter's carriage ; hut aunt Delia thinks he may get
well." Alas, poor child! her father was at this moment drawing his last
breath.

476 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851
less fit than if it had been specially meant for a valedictory to the
little ones of his flock." After proceeding through about two thirds
of his manuscript, he closed his discourse abruptly, with a few re
marks and the customary ascription. He then pronounced dis
tinctly, from memory, the first stanza of the hymn previously ap
pointed to be sung by the choir : —
" Soldiers of Christ arise,
And put your armor on,
Strong in the strength which God supplies
Through his eternal Son."
But in giving the number of this hymn, which is the eighty-eighth
in the collection, he named, by a most striking and extraordinary
inadvertence, the one hundred and eighty-eighth, in which these lines
occur : — " Determined are the days that fly
Successive o'er thy head ;
The numbered hour is on the wing
That lays thee with the dead."
The choir, however, governed »by his original directions, sung the
hymn appointed, during which he stood, as usual, facing the altar.
At the conclusion, he knelt down at the chancel rail, and said from
memory, his book having fallen noiselessly from his hand, the fol
lowing collect : —
" Direct us, O Lord, in all our doings, with thy most gracious
favor, and further us with thy continual help ; that in all our works
begun, continued, and ended in thee, we may glorify thy holy name,
and finally, by thy mercy, obtain everlasting life, through Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen."
But now his strength seems to have entirely failed. Instead of
rising and turning to the congregation, as was his custom, to pro
nounce the concluding benediction, he remained on his knees, and said,
with a faltering voice, the apostolic blessing. The congregation imme
diately took the alarm, and his friends rushed forwdrd to his assist
ance. He was borne down through the church to the vestry room,
and from thence in a carriage to his residence. Though at first
evidently conscious, he seemed unable to articulate distinctly, and
uttered but a few words ; and, being apprised by the physicians in
attendance ofthe dangerous nature of his attack, he composed him
self quietly on his couch, and closed his eyes, as if in a calm sleep.
His old, long-tried, and faithful friend and father in the gospel,
the Rev. Dr. Eaton, was soon at his side, and, finding him unable
to speak, if not unconscious, knelt down, and taking him by the
hand, offered the Commendatory Prayer of the Church : —

1851.] HIS DEATH. 477
" O Almighty God, with whom do live the spirits of just men made per
fect, after they are delivered from their earthly prisons, we humbly commend
the soul of this thy servant, our dear brother, into thy hands, as into the
hands of a faithful Creator and most merciful Savior ; most humbly beseech
ing thee that it may be precious in thy sight. Wash it, we pray thee, in the
blood of that immaculate Lamb that was slain to take away the sins of the
world ; that whatsoever defilements it may have contracted in the midst of
this miserable and naughty world, through -the lusts of the flesh, or the wiles
of Satan, being purged and done away, it may be presented pure and with
out spot before thee. And teach us who survive, in this and other like
daily spectacles of mortality, to see how frail and uncertain our own condition
is, and so to number our days that we may seriously apply our hearts to that
holy and heavenly wisdom, whilst we live here, which may in the end bring
us to life everlasting, through the merits of Jesus Christ, thine only Son, our
Lord. Amen''

As the word Amen was pronounced by the venerable priest, the
last breath was perceived to pass, gently, quietly, and without a
struggle, from the lips of the dying soldier of the cross, and he was
at rest in the bosom of his Savior !
It is impossible to describe the sensations produced by this ex
traordinary and appalling visitation. The heart may conceive, but
words cannot express, the bitterness of this stroke to his family, to
his parish, and to the broad circle of friends, at home and abroad,
who were more immediately affected by the dispensation. The
publications of the day tell something of the pulsations of the popu
lar feeling ; and to these due reference will be made in gathering
up the various public and private testimonials on which the biogra
pher must rely for the exhibition of his character. As his biogra
pher, he can only add to this portion of the work, for the consola
tion of survivors, some of his dying counsels, selected from his last
general discourse, delivered on the Feast of All Saints, together
with a brief account of the funeral solemnities.
In this discourse, after a glowing commentary on the text already
cited, closing in the animated strains of the church hymn, —
" Behold the innumerable host
Of angels clothed in light ;
Behold the spirits of the just
Whose faith is changed to sight.
Angels, and living saints and dead,
But one communion make ;
All join in Christ, their vital Head,
And of his love partake," —
he proceeds with his application : —
" Such is that heavenly and invisible world of saints and glori
fied spirits which the word of God discloses, and which the solemn

478 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
offices of divine worship on this day, and all days, are intended to
assist us in realizing. Would that we might be roused to a consid
eration of this great scene ; would that the vision of these glori
fied witnesses might inspire praise to God, whose truth and mercy
to them is the confirmation of our faith, the encouragement of our
duty, and gives us in contemplation an antepast of our happiness
before we come to its full enjoyment. Here are men of like pas
sions with ourselves, exposed while on earth to the same or like
trials, both of flesh and spirit, witnesses to us, from their blessedness,
of the efficacy of Christian faith, and the sure success of diligent
and devout application to the means of grace. Here are witnesses
to us of the sufficiency of the blood of Christ to cleanse from all sin,
to procure a full and free pardon, and to insure that triumph
whereby the dying Christian, looking unto Jesus, can exultantly cry,
O Death, where is thy sting 1 O Grave, where is thy victory ?
" And especially let those of us, beloved brethren, who have found,
in the anguish of bereavement, no adequate human object on which
their affections can rest, no earthly good to fill the aching void,
ponder and meditate on these neglected yet solemn doctrines, and
endeavor not only to believe them, but to make them part of our
habitual thoughts — our whole spiritual nature. Let these thoughts
and things of an unseen world lift us above the dangers and
temptations of things seen and temporal, and draw us closer to His
cross by whom and through whom alone the holy dead have fought
the good fight, and are now passed farther and farther into the
bosom of the church triumphant and the glorious prospects of heaven.
Let us feel how all that was truly them and theirs still survives, and
how deeply they should live in our affections — communing with
them in the same love we bore them while living, and that love
exalted and purified by their departure, and looking forward to a
more spiritual intercourse than ever the past afforded. With these
views, well may all that they valued be the more endeared to us ; well
may the house and altar of God, where we communed often to
gether, — the spot where we last took leave of all of them that was
mortal, — become to us holy ground — a place set apart and hallowed
to tender recollections, to holy musings, to fruitful meditations, to
pious resolves, to strong yet chastened anticipations of that hour of
unspeakable bliss — too intense to bear, except the Spirit strengthen
us — of seeing our lost brethren, of looking on them again, of
having them at our side. Can we conceive, indeed, any more
affecting call to a holy life than this hope of meeting in another
world the brethren and little ones of our Father's house, and
dwelling with them forever, with our capacities of love enlarged,
our mutual infirmities removed, our vile bodies made into glorious
bodies, and our spirits made perfect 1 And as every little thing
brings them up in our minds, — our house, our room, our gardens,

1851.] SERMON FOR ALL SAINTS'. 479
our walks, the little ornaments in our apartments, all serve to
touch a chord in our souls, — let not these avvakeners of thought
cause us only a pang of sorrow. Let us turn them into angels'
voices. Let them warn us of sin, and incite us to all virtuous and
godly living ; to that preparation for Christ's coming, that life of
prayer and good works, vvhich would make our hope of meeting
them in heaven not a mere baseless dream — a hope not wildly
and unreasonably entertained. And in order that the dead in
Christ may have this godly influence, can we do better than to set
apart some fixed and given seasons for their more solemn com
memoration 1 Can we do better than to devote such a feast as
this to their memory — thinking of the religiousness of their earthly
life, of their everlasting recompense as faithful servants of Christ,
and of the hope of living with them in heaven, should we follow
their steps on earth ?
" Blessed are we when the thought of the glorified child, or
parent, or wife, or brother, or sister, or friend thus becomes an
incitement and aid to heavenly-mindedness. Blessed are we when
we act as if we heard their voices calling us, ' Come up hither,
and dwell with us — do not grow cold and careless ; ' when they
seem to lay hold upon us, as the angels did upon the lingering
patriarchs, to hasten our flight. When we thus think of them, we
would fain be with them. But duties remain. We seem like a
man toiling and wearied amid the harvest field, but in sight of the
home where his family and kindred are gathering, one by one, to
keep some joyous festival ; who often turns a wistful glance towards
them, and then bends patiently to his toil, knowing that the evening
will dismiss him to their enjoyments, and lending a sturdier blow
to the work that must be done, animated by that homeward glance.
So may our view of the glorified cloud of witnesses lead us to a
more vigorous discharge of life's duties, to ' lay aside every weight,
and the sin that doth so easily beset us, and to run with patience
the race that is set before us.'
" And now, beloved brethren, ' looking unto Jesus, the author
and finisher of our faith,' as penitent believers, longing in our
inmost hearts for that which neither the world nor popular religion
can insure us, — the communion of saints, — let us seek it, where the
Apostles' creed declares it is, in the Holy Catholic Church, whose
ministries and ordinances have descended to us in unbroken suc
cession. Let us endeavor to sound the depths of that spiritual
service, wherein, if its words be not a solemn mockery, God does
' vouchsafe to feed us, who duly receive these holy mysteries, with
the spiritual food of the most precious body and blood of his Son
Jesus Christ ; and does assure us thereby of his favor and goodness
towards us, and that we are very members incorporate in the mys
tical body of his Son, which is the blessed\ company of all faithful

480 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
people, and are also heirs through hope of his everlasting kingdom.'
May He of whose only gift it cometh that we may lawfully use
such language, and entertain hopes so high, enable us to yield our
selves to these sanctifying and solemn convictions ; and, expanding
our souls towards every human being, whether near or distant,
whether in this world or the other, whom he hath made dear to us,
may he call forth our hearts and minds to grasp all that is meant
in these marvellous words ; that so, rising above the feeling which
thinks Christ honored by contrasting his grace and merits with his
own ordinances, we may seek ever to view and receive him in the
sacraments of his ineffable mercy to mankind, and excite our
expectations to reach after some special intercourse with him and
his in the communion of his dying love ! "

THE FUNERAL.
The father and the two surviving brothers of the deceased, having
been summoned by telegraph, arrived at Boston on Monday even
ing, and, on the following day, the arrangements were settled for
the funeral solemnities, and for conveying the remains to the place
of interment. The funeral vvas solemnized on Wednesday morn
ing. The Right Reverend Bishop Eastburn in his episcopal
robes, and a large number of the clergy in their priestly vestments,
agreeably to a resolution passed at a previous meeting, met at the
residence of the deceased, in Green Street. The bishop and clergy
preceded the bier, which was borne by the wardens and vestry of
the Church of the Advent, attended by the following pall bearers
in surplices : —
The Rev. Dr. Edson, of Lowell,
The Rev. Dr. Burroughs, of Portsmouth, N. H.,
The Rev. Dr. Vinton, of Boston,
The Rev. Dr. Wells, of Boston,
The Rev. Mr. Greenleaf, of Boston,
The Rev. Mr. Mason, of Boston,
The Rev. Mr. Clinch, of Boston,
The Rev. Mr. Lambert, U. S. N.
The procession was met at the door of the church by the Rt. Rev.
Bishop Williams, D. D., of Connecticut, the Rev. Dr. Wainwright,
of New York, and the Rev. Drs. Eaton and Strong. The burial
service was read by the Rt. Rev. Bishop Williams and the Rev.
Dr. Wainwright. " The church was crowded," says the Christian
Witness, " with a most solemn«assembly, and all the services of the
mournful occasion were deeply impressive." Among the clergy
present, in addition to those already named, were the Rev. Drs.

1851.] THE FUNERAL. 48]
Fuller, Shepard, and Wayland, and the Rev. Messrs. Robinson,
Randall, Allen, Wildes, Smithett, Withington, Baury, S. B.
Babcock, W. R. Babcock, Bartlett, Burroughs, Estes, Fales,
Field, Foxcroft, Hallam, Haskins, Hoppin, Wm. Horton, Page,
Geo. W. Porter, and Slafter, of Massachusetts ; Rev. John
Kelly and Rev. W. Si Childs, of New Hampshire ; Rev. S. R.
Slack, of Virginia ; and Rev. N. W. Monroe, of New York.
At the conclusion of the services at the church, the coffin was
conveyed to the station house of the Worcester Railroad, and put in
charge of a committee of the parish, consisting of Messrs. C. P.
Gordon, (Junior Warden,) J. P. Tarbell, F. E. Oliver, N. A.
Parks, Charles Grafton, and R. H. Salter, who proceeded, in
company with the father, brothers, and a few other friends, to New
Haven. They arrived early in the same evening, and were met
by several of the vestry of Trinity Church and other friends, who
attended the body to the parsonage, where it was placed in the
same parlor which had been, but a few days previous, the scene of
some of the happiest hours in his father's house.
On the following morning, his mortal remains were borne to the
family burying lot in the New Haven cemetery, and committed to
his grave by the side of that of his elder brother, whose early death
had called forth one of the sweetest and most touching poetical
effusions of his pen.*

CHARACTER OF THE DECEASED.
His biographer might shrink almost intuitively from the perform
ance of this delicate portion of his undertaking, were he obliged to
rely solely on his own judgment. He might fear, that, through the
warmth of paternal affection, the more attractive points in his char
acter might be overdrawn ; or, dreading the imputation of such
undue partiality, he might be induced to withhold many things
absolutely necessary to the full development of the truth. But,
happily, he is placed in no such dilemma. The materials for this
part of the work are furnished by other hands ; and he may employ
the language of friendship, indeed, but a friendship, we trust, not
to be suspected of improper bias. We select, from a mass of public
and private testimonials, all that may be deemed essential in making
out the portraiture. These are drawn from the periodical press,
from the action of public bodies and associations, from pulpit
discourses, and from the voluntary tributes of private friendship.
* The " Two Graves ; " see page 16.
61

482 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.

THE PERIODICAL PRESS.
The Boston daily papers, in announcing, on the following day,
the striking circumstances of his death, appended such eulogistic
remarks as seem to have been dictated by the first impulse of the
moment. One or two extracts will serve as specimens : —
From the Courier. — " Dr. Croswell was a native of Hudson,
N. Y., but had been for many years an inhabitant of Boston, and
was at one time rector of the North Church. He was eminent for
the kindness of his heart, the amenity and unaffected simplicity of
his manners, and the genuine Christian benevolence which is not
confined to theory, but exhibits itself in daily practice. The be
reaved, the afflicted, and the destitute were certain to find his heart
and purse open for their consolation and relief. The memory of
his quiet and unobtrusive charities will rise in the hearts of all who
knew him, like flowers to deck the good man's grave."
From a correspondent of the Transcript. — " Thus Dr. Cros
well died emphatically in the gospel harness — the very condition
above all others in which he would have prayed to close up his use
ful and dutiful life. To a few of his closest friends he had some
time ago expressed the conviction that he was liable to be called
away at almost any moment ; and he was always ready for the
event which has surprised his people with a sorrow that may not be
told. He was indeed a high model of Christian character ; full of
honorable, and gentlemanly, and endearing qualities ; in a word,
his daily life was an embodiment, so far as human frailty may well
permit, of our holy religion. The worshippers at the Church of the
Advent loved him as a father, and honored him greatly as a man.
To those whose sick bed he has softened with his calm sympathies
and solemn benedictions, his death is a loss indeed.
" In person, Dr. Croswell was above the medium size, finely
built, and a very pattern of manly beauty. His mind was an admi
rable combination of genius and practical wisdom, its greatness so
hidden in its fine proportions that it took a long and close acquaint
ance rightly to measure and estimate his powers."
To these may be added a few extracts from the religious peri
odicals of Boston : —
From the Christian Witness. — " The sudden summons of a
friend from this world to the next almost invariably shocks the
mind with a species of awe, when the unlooked-for intelligence first
strikes the ear. We seem to start at it as at something dreadful ;

1851.] CHARACTER OF THE DECEASED. 483
and yet, when it occurs under circumstances such as attended the
last hour of our deceased brother, there is much in it which, to the
Christian mind, is truly pleasant. There is something delightful,
we might say almost glorious, in the idea of the Christian soldier's
dying in the field with ' all his armor on.' In such a death there
is much more to be thankful for than there is to be dreaded.
"Dr. Croswell was endowed with an intellect of a high order,
well disciplined by a classical education. His poetical gifts were
such as would have placed him among the first of American poets,
had he given particular attention to their cultivation. Some of the
pieces from his pen are among the choicest gems in our language.
Blessed with a very amiable disposition, which manifested itself in
a manner marked for its amenity, it is not extraordinary that he
had many friends, and that they were strongly attached to him.
Few men in this community have been more respected. All ad
mired the purity and simplicity of his Christian character, however
they may have differed from him in his theological views. He has
gone to his rest. Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord."
From the Christian Register. — "The circumstances of the de
cease of this worthy and lamented clergyman are peculiarly im
pressive, we will not add affecting, because that must be regarded
a happy and even enviable departure by which the faithful ser
vant is permitted, as in a moment, to depart from his labor to his
reward. "Our opportunities did not bring us to any intimacy of friend
ship with this excellent person, nor would our personal acquaint
ance authorize our attempting to portray his character. That office
should be reserved for those who knew and can appreciate his
peculiar gifts and virtues. But we were accustomed to meet Dr.
Croswell as a neighbor, and for several years, while he was
rector of Christ Church, in the northern part of the city, being
within the same walks of professional duty, we were witnesses for
ourselves, and not seldom did we hear from others, of the constancy,
fidelity, cheerful contentment, and religious trust with which, from
Sabbath to Sabbath, and from year to year, he fulfilled a laborious
ministry, and discharged much duty with little recompense of re
ward. We loved to meet him in our own walks of duty, to ex
change with him, if not professional congratulations, yet fraternal
sympathies, and then to go on our way cheered by the light of his
manly countenance and the kind pressure of his hand.
" As the rector of the Church of the Advent, whatever diversities
of opinion may have existed between himself and some of his breth
ren, — into which neither we nor they would be disposed, on this oc
casion, for a moment to enter, — we learn from testimony, various
and affectionate, that he was to his people the object of their entire

484 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
confidence and regard ; that ' they loved him as a father, and honored
him as a man.' And the whole aspect of the church on the morning
of his interment, as the bereaved flock gathered in silent and respect
ful grief to pay their tribute to his remains, gave touching evidence
of their sense of their loss, that not only an instructor and guide,
but a friend and a pastor who knew his flock, and ' one who com
forted the mourners,' was taken from them."
From other secular and religious papers : —
The New Haven Register, to a brief notice of his death, adds this
testimony : " Besides the large circle of friends on whom this blow
has suddenly fallen, the Church of the Advent, of vvhich he was
the rector, and which had grown up under his untiring labors, his
loss will, apparently, be irreparable. Quiet and unassuming in his
habits, his mind and heart were the home of the strongest affections,
of the keenest perception of the truthful and the beautiful, and of
the loftiest ideal conceptions : in works of art and taste, his judgment
was exquisitely nice and accurate. As a poet, Mr. Griswold has
appropriately included him in his list of the Sacred Poets of England
and America ; and the editor of the American edition of Keble's
Christian Year has enriched even that rare collection of gems with
extracts from the late Dr. Croswell's gifted pen. The editor of
that book also said of him, that ' he has more unwritten poetry
in him than any man he ever knew.' The strength of his re
ligious character, and the depth of his devotion, will be most highly
appreciated by those who knew him best. He has fallen in the
vigor of manhood, with his armor on. Pleasant memories linger
behind him ; and the sympathies of true hearts in all parts of our
country will mingle with the sorrows of the bereaved family."
A communication under the signature of " H," and dated
" Church of the Advent, Boston, November 11, 1851," appeared in the
New York Churchman. This communication, whicli we do not
hesitate to ascribe to the Rev. H. W. Hudson, contained, among
other things, a correct biographical sketch of the deceased, some
touching particulars of his last hours, (a portion of vvhich we have
already cited,) and a few sentiments of high admiration, which were
also sent to the Boston papers. The few remaining passages are
subjoined as the testimony of one whose accuracy in jud«ino- can
only be excelled by the gracefulness of his drawing from the lin
eaments of the human character. " Thus Dr. Croswell, the lifted
and the good, has passed away from us, closing up his useful and
beautiful life on the very field, and in the very harness, as it were,
of his heavenly warfare : the stroke of death literally took him
with the words of life upon his lios — the condition, above all others,

1851.] CHARACTER.

485

wherein he would have prayed, and indeed has often said he
wished, the last summons might find him." After mentioning his
settlement in the Church of the Advent, he adds, " He vvas the
first to institute and carry out in Boston the plan of a church with
free sittings, the weekly offertory, and the daily service ; and that
church, from the beginning, has been a place where all who were so
minded could enjoy the. precious gift of our daily matins and even
song. That plan has been altogether successful. In this sacred
work Dr. Croswell had given himself no rest, and under his wise
cherishing, with the blessing of God, a church has grown up in less
than seven years, which unquestionably has at this day more life,
more energy, and more operative virtue than any other parish in
New England. We can but hope and pray that the memory of
their departed rector, so deeply beloved and so worthy of their love,
will be as an angel of peace to knit and hold that noble cluster of
warm hearts, clear heads, and steady hands into still increasing
strength. Doubtless they will adhere most religiously to the order
he has established — a course wherein they will hardly be opposed,
save by those who prefer their own opinions to the faith once
delivered to the saints.
" To have done such a piece of work, is itself the best possible
testimony to the strength and skill of the workman. This is no
time to enter upon his literary and intellectual merits : but Dr.
Croswell vvas no ordinary man ; we have simply never known one
in whom the elements were more choicely mixed up. His mind
was a rare and happy combination of genius and practical wisdom ;
its real greatness being so hidden in its fine proportions, that it
took a long and close acquaintance rightly to measure and estimate
his powers. His breadth, and compass, and variety of intellectual
endowment, his clearness of style and subtilty of method, rendered
him an admirable study. Those who only saw the habitual smooth
ness and serenity of his spirit could have little idea what rich
treasures of energy and living force were wrapped up in him ;
what a basis of firm, strong, manly sense and thought did underlie
the calm grace of his simple manners and the sweet order of his
every-day deportment. With less beauty and symmetry, he would
have seemed to have more strength of mind and character ; the best
evidence of his strength being, that he knew how to withhold it till
he had a fitting occasion for putting it forth. His taste was exqui
site ; his sermons, which were certainly the best we ever heard,
were models of chaste and candid composition ; his keen sense of
the sacredness of his office keeping out of them all that flippant
smartness and brilliancy which distinguishes popular preachers.
" Dr. Croswell's piety issued in a still, deep, steady current of
good works : his method of religion vvas to have as much of sub
stance, with as little of surface, as possible. In society he was

486 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
modest and reserved ; and every thing about him quietly spoke the
delicacy and refinement of the finished gentleman. But, indeed,
(for we must close this notice,) he was a high model of Christian
character; full of honorable, and gentlemanly, and endearing
qualities ; in a word, his daily life was an embodiment, as far as
human frailty may well permit, of the very spirit and genius of our
holy religion. #
" In person, Dr. Croswell was above the medium size, finely
built ; and all together might well be quoted as a pattern of manly
beauty. Last night we saw his remains ' hearsed in death ; ' and
certainly our eye never lighted on a more beautiful vision. It
seemed as if the departing spirit had lingered to trace its new-born
beauty upon the earthly form where it was used to abide."
The following, from the pen of the Rev. Dr. Horatio Potter,
rector of St. Paul's Church, in Albany, appeared in the Evening
Journal of that city : —
" Rev. William Croswell, D. D., of Boston. — How many
hearts, in every part of the country, will be profoundly affected at '
the sudden departure of this eminent and much-loved servant of
God ! It so happened that he had been little known in this com
munity, not having officiated here for many years, and his visits to
the city having been unfrequent and strictly private ; but even here1
there are very many who will desire to pay a fervent tribute to the
memory of this good man ; this gentlest and kindest of friends ;
this lovely Christian gentleman ; this zealous minister of God's
Church; whose spirit, calm and cheerful, but elevated and glowing,
kept the fire ever alive on the altar, and diffused warmth and bright
ness wherever it appeared. Who ever met him without wishing to
meet him again 1 There vvas something so soothing and so cheer
ing about his presence, and something so placid and so elevated,
that turbulence, and passion, and care seemed to flee away at the
approach of his beaming countenance, while peace, and gladness,
and good will rose up to bid him welcome. And then he was so
reflective ; the play of his fancy was so beautiful and so Christian-
like ; his thoughts, especially when he was with only a few friends,
seemed to mount up so naturally to the dearest objects of Christian
taste and Christian devotion, and often to make themselves apparent
so sweetly in his looks and manner, when he was too modest and
too reverent to express thein fully, — that you yielded yourself up
to truth and nature ; you became lost in the contemplation of
beautiful and holy things, and found so much of feeling, and so little
of art, that you forgot you were communing with an accomplished
Christian poet.
" The writer of these few lines assisted at his ordination, when

1851.: CHARACTER. 487
he was admitted to the sacred ministry by the Right Rev. Bishop
Brownell, of Connecticut, and well remembers how he appeared
that day, (twenty years or more ago,) and how his whole nature
seemed to bow down to receive the awful gift conferred upon him.
How many hearts has he won since that day ! — won for himself,
and won for his divine Master. Where has he ever been without
making himself loved ? It will be for others to speak of his powers
as a writer, as a poet, as a preacher, as a Christian pastor. Several
years ago, at the desire of a number of gentlemen in Boston, he
returned to that city, and the Church of the Advent was organized,
and its holy place opened for daily prayers and a weekly commu
nion ; and there, twice every day, he was to be found leading the
devotions of an earnest and praying people. His aged father, that
valiant soldier of the cross, who has won so many trophies, yet
survives to follow all that is mortal of his gifted son to the tomb,
and to feel and know that that son has entered into his rest before
him. That he departed at the going down of the sun on God's holy
day ; that he was called even in the holy place, and in the midst
of his sacred ministrations, — what is this but a token of the rest,
the peace, the transporting service to which he has been exalted 1
Be this the comfort of that venerated and beloved parent. Be
this also our comfort, while we hasten to make ourselves ready,
and learn  ' in faith to muse
How grows in paradise our store.' "
The number and variety of similar extracts from the religious
and secular publications of the day might be greatly enlarged ; but
the biographer must content himself with the following brief pas
sage from the New York Express. With reference to his efforts in
rearing the new parish in Boston of which he was rector, the ed
itor says, —
" In this work he has been for several years most assiduously
engaged, and his labors have been followed with the most encour
aging success. These labors were intense and unremitted, and wore
greatly upon his physical strength. They were not only those of
writing and preaching sermons, and of holding two services every
day, but those also of parochial visitation and ministration. With
the great end of his anxious hopes and earnest toils almost fully
realized, and while actually engaged in the solemn duties of his
holy office in the church he had reared and among the flock he had
tended, he yielded up his spirit to Him who gave it, and changed
his ministry from earth to heaven. Years ago he wrote these lines
upon the death of the first Christian martyr, Stephen. How has
the holy prayer they breathed been answered !

488 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851,
' To us, with all his constancy,
Be his rapt vision given,
To look above and see
Revealments bright of heaven,
And power to speak our triumphs out,
As our last hours draw near,
While neither clouds of fear or doubt
Before our view appear.' "

CHRIST CHURCH, BOSTON.
At a special meeting of the wardens and vestry of Christ Church,
held in the vestry room, on Monday evening, November 10, 1851,
the following preamble and resolutions were unanimously passed : —
Forasmuch as it has pleased Almighty God, in his providence,
to take out of this life his faithful and devoted servant, the Rev.
William Croswell, D. D., rector of the Church of the Advent,
and sometime rector of this Church, therefore, —
Resolved, That, while we bow with meek submission to the will
of our heavenly Father, it is proper that we should mourn for our
loss, and testify to the feelings of sorrow and sadness with which
this sudden and afflictive dispensation has filled our minds.
Resolved, That the virtues of this faithful soldier and servant of
Christ, faithful to his life's end, his unassuming worth, the consist
ency of his Christian character, his fidelity in the discharge of his
duties as a Christian minister and Christian man, his kindness to
the poor, his counsel and assistance to the fatherless and widows,
are worthy to be had in remembrance by us, as a bright example
of what a Christian minister ought to be.
Resolved, That the remembrance of the kindness with which he
always assisted in this parish, during the late vacancy in the rector
ship, in visiting the sick and dying, and performing the last offices
for the dead, — never offering an excuse, nor delaying a moment
when called upon, — endears his memory to us, and causes us to
realize that a faithful servant ofthe Church has been removed, who
was ever ready at his post, and that we have indeed lost a friend.
Resolved, That, as we bow with submission to the dispensation
of our heavenly Father, we bless his holy name that we mourn
not as those without hope, but humbly trust that it may be so
ordered to us and to all that its suddenness may teach us to appre
ciate the shortness and uncertainty of human life, and that the good
example of our departed friend may teach us so to live that we
may be prepared to die.
Resolved, That we sincerely and affectionately sympathize with
the bereaved relations of the deceased in their affliction, and humbly

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 489
trust that, from the heavenly source so often pointed out by him
we now mourn, they may receive consolation in their bereavement.
Resolved, That the rector, wardens, and vestry will attend the
funeral of the Rev. Dr. Croswell, and that the rector and wardens
be requested to take such other course to show respect to his mem
ory as they may deem proper.
Resolved, That the preamble and resolutions be entered at length
upon the records of this church, and that copies be sent to the
family of our deceased friend, and especially to the Rev. Dr. Cros
well, of New Haven, and to the wardens and vestry of the Church
of the Advent. WILLIAM T. SMITHETT, Chairman.
Geo. W. Collamore, Clerk.
BISHOP AND CLERGY.
At a meeting ofthe Episcopal clergy ofthe city of Boston, held
at the residence of the bishop of the diocese, on Tuesday, Novem
ber 11, 1851, on occasion of the death ofthe Rev. W. Croswell,
D. D., the bishop was requested to take the chair, and the Rev.
Charles Mason was appointed secretary ; when the following pre
amble and resolutions were adopted : —
Whereas it has pleased Almighty God suddenly to remove from
this world our reverend brother, the Rev. William Croswell,
D. D., rector of the Church of the Advent, therefore, —
Resolved, That we view, in this startling dispensation of Provi
dence, a peculiarly solemn call to us his surviving ministerial breth
ren, to increased fidelity in the preaching of the word, and in the
discharge of all the high responsibilities committed to our trust.
Resolved, That we cherish a pleasing remembrance of the per
sonal character of our departed brother; of the accomplishments
by vvhich his mind vvas adorned ; of his untiring assiduity in the
• discharge of his ministerial labors ; and of his many Christian graces.
Resolved, That we sympathize deeply with his family in this
their sudden bereavement, and that our prayers shall be offered on
their behalf, that, through the Holy Spirit, they may have the richest
consolations of those who "sorrow not as others which have no hope."
Resolved, That a copy of the foregoing preamble and resolutions
be transmitted to the widow and family of our departed brother in
the ministry, and be inserted in the Christian Witness.
CHARLES MASON, Secittary.
Parish of the Advent, Boston,
Sunday, the twenty-second after Trinity, A. i, '^Sl.
At a meeting of the warden* and vestry, holden at the church
immediately after evening service, the committee appointed to
62

490 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851
proceed to New Haven in company with the body of the late rector
of this parish, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., and to attend
to its interment at that place, reported, that they had discharged the
duty assigned to them ; the body having been buried at eleven
o'clock on the morning of the 13th of November, at the New Ha
ven cemetery, "deep in the ground," in accordance with the wishes
of the deceased. The following resolution was thereupon adopted
by a unanimous vote, and entered at large upon the record : —
Resolved, That now, for the first time, when the last rites have
been paid to the mortal remains of our beloved rector, we will
strive for a moment to control our grief, and to give expression, in
some feeble degree, to what no words can measurably express.
Although it does not become us to sorrow as others which have
no hope, yet we cannot behold the desolation of our house of prayer,
and remember the affliction which weighs upon the family of our
beloved rector, without offering to them the testimony of our sym
pathy and condolence.
We, therefore, the Church and Congregation whom he served, are
ready to bear witness concerning our brother appointed to the
Priesthood over us : —
That he duly exercised his ministry to the honor of
God and the edifying of his Church, —
That he considered well with himself the end of his
ministry towards the children of God, towards the Spouse and
Body of Christ, —
That he never ceased his labors, his care, and diligence,
but did all that lay in him to bring all such as were committed to
his charge unto an agreement in the faith and knowledge of God,
and to ripeness and perfectness of age in Christ, —
That he vvas a faithful dispenser of the word of God
and of his holy sacraments, —
That, without preferring one before another, and doing
nothing by partiality, he did not shun to declare unto all, high and
low, rich and poor, one with another, the whole counsel of God —
warning us that, without exemption or dispensation, we must obey
both the greatest and the very least of the holy commandments of
Jesus Christ.
And now, since we, among whom he had gone preaching the
kingdom of God, shall see his face on earth no more, we take
record that he is pure from the blood of all mm.
We remember that, by the space of seven years, he ceased not
to warn every one, morning and evening, with his prayers, taking
heed unto himself and to all the flock over vvhich the Holy Ghost
had made him overseer, feeding the Church of God, vvhich he hath
purchased with his own blood.
And while we sorrow most of all for the words which we must

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 491
speak, — " we shall see his face no more," — we are consoled by
the remembrance, that, when his Lord came, he was found watching, — -
as one that waiteth for his Lord, — his loins girded about with priestly
robes, and the spiritual lights of his ministration burning; and we
therefore call upon his family to bow with us in humble resignation
to the mysterious will of God, and, with us, to
Bless his holy name for all his servants departed this life in
His faith and fear, beseeching him to give us grace so to follow
their good examples, that, with them, we may be partakers of his
heavenly kingdom. Grant this, O Father, for Jesus Christ, hia
sake, our only Mediator and Advocate. Amen.
ST. JOHN'S CHURCH, CHARLESTOWN.
LETTER TO MRS. CROSWELL.
Charlestown, December 15, 1851.
Dear Madam : Enclosed you will please find a copy of the
resolves passed by the vestry of St. John's Church, which they
have directed should be sent to you.
In the recent afflictive dispensation of our heavenly Father that
removed from this world your beloved partner, the vestry of St.
John's Church feel that they too have lost a faithful and devoted
friend. Destitute of pastoral supervision and care during the past
season, the hearts of our people, tried by sorrow and suffering,
have often turned to him for sympathy and advice ; and though
pressed with duties incident to a large parish, he never refused our
applications ; but again and again has he been with us, to comfort
the sick and the afflicted ; and six times within as many months has
he performed for members of our congregation the last sad offices
for the dead.
Allow us, dear madam, to extend to you our sympathies, and
with you mingle our sorrows for the loss of our good friend : and
may the God of the widow be ever your protector and stay to
your life's end.
P. HUBBELL,
In behalf of the Vestry of St. John's Church.
At a meeting of the wardens and vestry of St. John's Church,
Charlestown, held in the vestry room, on Monday evening, December
15, 1851, the following was submitted to the consideration of the
members of the vestry, and unanimously adopted : —
Whereas, it has pleased Almighty God suddenly to remove from
the sphere of his great usefulness on earth to his heavenly rest the
Rev. William Croswell, D. D., late rector of the Church of the
Advent in Boston, we, the wardens and vestry of St. John's Church,
Charlestown, would gratefully acknowledge our many obligations to

492 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851
him for his Christian kindness and attention to this parish while
destitute of a pastor, and would tender to his bereaved wife and
family our sympathy for them in their present hour of deep
affliction. Voted, That the clerk be directed to enter the above upon the
record, and to transmit a copy thereof to the family of the de
ceased. SOCIETY FOR THE RELIEF OF WIDOWS AND ORPHANS.
TO MRS. CROSWELL. Boston, December 3, 1851.
Madam : In enclosing to you, officially, the resolutions of the
Society for the Relief of the Widows and Orphans of Clergymen,
I beg to add my own expression of the deep sorrow which the
event to which they refer has brought to my heart. I have lost
from my side my near, personal, faithful friend, in whose affection
I confided, on whose judgment I constantly relied, and who vvas
dear to me by the memory of a thousand kind acts.
It is a comfort to remember such a man as he vvas, and a con
solation to feel how beautiful the example of his life, even to its
fitting close.
May God sustain, comfort, and bless you in this trial, is the
prayer of your friend and servant,
P. H. GREENLEAF.
At a stated meeting of the Society for the Relief of the Widows
and Orphans of Deceased Clergymen of the Protestant Episcopal
Church, held at Boston, on Monday, December 1, 1851, — the Right
Rev. the Bishop of the diocese in the chair, — the following pre
amble and resolutions were unanimously adopted : —
Whereas it has pleased Almighty God, in his wise providence, to
remove from the church militant here on earth our lamented friend
and brother, the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., late one of the
trustees of this society, it is our desire, at this our first meeting
since his decease, to place upon our records our sorrowful sense of
this afflictive dispensation : therefore, —
Resolved, That in his death we mourn the loss of a brother and
fellow-laborer, long endeared to us, as members of this society, by
the wisdom and excellence of his counsels ; and whose faithful and
disinterested labors in the society, from the first day of its organi
zation, merit our high approval, and will ever be remembered by us
with gratitude and affection.
Resolved, That, in the sudden aud unexpected manner in vvhich
our brother was called from among us, we receive the admonition
to be diligent in that our hands find to do for the widow and

1851-1 TESTIMONIALS.

49:5

orphan, and to follow him in his labors of love as he followed
Christ. Resolved, That the secretary be directed to enter these resolu
tions on the records, and to transmit a copy thereof to the family
of the deceased, and to request their insertion in thc Christian
Witness. BOSTON EPISCOPAL CHARITABLE SOCIETY.
TO MRS. CROSWELL. Friday, December 5, 1851.
Madam : The annexed resolutions were passed on Thursday last
at the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees of the Boston
Episcopal Charitable Society.
Permit me to add the expression of my own personal esteem of
your husband, the late Rev. Dr. Croswell, and my regret at the
great loss we have all met with.
With respect, yours,
HENRY BURROUGHS, Secretary.
Copy from the Records of the Boston Episcopal Charitable Society,
December 4, 1851.
This board, since its last meeting, have had one of its members,
the Rev. William Croswell, D. D., taken from its midst by the
sudden stroke of death. The survivors severally recognize the pro
priety of enduring submissively this departure of their associate and
friend ; but they desire to record their affectionate regard for their
companion in office, and their participation in the general sorrow
which his decease has produced. Therefore, —
Resolved, That this board deeply lament the rupture of official
relations with an associate whose ever ready and efficient aid in the
execution of the benevolent designs of this society was given with
intelligence, zeal, and constancy ; and this board also mourn their
privation of a friend, whose guileless spirit, kindness of heart,
Christian graces, with a pure and highly-cultivated mind, endeared
him to all who knew him, and prompted and enabled him, on all
occasions and under all circumstances, to be what he seemed
to be.
Resolved, That the members of this board sincerely sympathize
with the relict and family of Dr. Croswell, and offer in their house
of mourning unfeigned condolence in the distress brought upon
them by Him who " does not willingly afflict or grieve the children
of men." Voted, That the secretary of this board furnish the widow of
the Rev. Dr. Croswell with a copy of this record.

494 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851,

SERMONS.
On the Sunday following his decease, (the twenty-second after
Trinity,) being the 16th of November, the Rev. Titus Strong, D. D.,
rector of St. James's Church, Greenfield, preached a sermon in the
Church of the Advent, which was subsequently published by request
of the wardens and vestry. Dr. Strong had been long esteemed and
venerated by the deceased, and they had lived on terms of great
intimacy and affection for many years. In the subjoined extracts
from this sermon, therefore, we are giving the testimony of one
whose well-known candor and integrity would forbid the idea that
even the warm-hearted partiality of a friend could be suffered to
warp his judgment, or give an undue coloring to his representations.
Taking for his text the language of the evangelist in commendation
of the faithful and devoted gospel laborer Barnabas, — " He was a
good man," (Acts xi. 24,) — he proceeds, after a suitable explanatory
introduction, to portray the characteristics of what may be called,
in the gospel sense of the term, a good man. In this delineation
he enumerates some of the most prominent and striking qualities
which constitute the character of the good man, and then applies
the whole to his deceased friend : —
" Because," he proceeds, " they were all so beautifully and har
moniously exhibited in the life of our departed brother, whose
sudden decease has spread a mantle of gloom over this church and
congregation, and filled the hearts of many friends with sadness
and sorrow. They furnish, too, a source of consolation and sub
mission to the will of God, inasmuch as they warrant the belief
that, in the adoption of such graces and attainments, he has gained,
through the merits of the Savior, a fitness for the inheritance of
the everlasting kingdom ; and that he has been summoned away
from the associations and responsibilities, the duties, the cares, and
the trials of earth to the rest and glory of heaven. In cultivating
the virtues of the Christian spirit, his labor has not been in vain in
the Lord. He exemplified in his daily walk and conversation all
that was excellent and lovely in our holy religion. He was faithful
unto death, and his reward is a crown of life. He had completed
the work that was given him to do ; and with his armor on, and
at the altar of his God, he received the message that required of
him an account of his stewardship. That account, we doubt not,
has been rende-red with joy, and not with grief; and in the blessed
communion of saints, connecting in one body the Church on earth
and the assembly of the just made pei 'ect in heaven, he is hence
forth to be continually employed, with Suints and martyrs, with
angels and archangels, with cherubim and seraphim, in ascribing

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 495
glory, and honor, riches, dominion, and power to Him that sitteth
upon the throne, and to the Lamb that was slain. I might, on the
present occasion, speak to you of his distinguished and varied ex
cellences as a man, of his acquirements as a scholar, of the affability
of his manners, and the mildness of his disposition, of the brilliancy
of his genius, the outpourings of his benevolence, and his integrity
in all the relations of life. I might recall to your remembrance his
wisdom in counsel, his prudence in action, the warmth and fidelity
of his friendship, his sympathy with the afflicted and the desolate,
his love of peace, and all those nameless attractions which made his
presence every where so delightful, and which won for him, almost
involuntarily, the dearest affections of all who knew him ; and a
thousand trembling voices, and as many bleeding hearts, would bear
witness to the truth of all that might be said in his praise. But it
is better for us to dwell upon his character as unfolded in the sub
ject of our meditations, to look upon his course of faith, and prayer,
and piety, to trace his progress as a servant and soldier of the cross,
view him in his conflict with sin and with Satan, and to follow him
on, through every change of labor and of trial, to the completion of
the victory that has made him a pillar in the temple of his God,
where he shall go no more out.
" I know well how great is the loss of one so gifted, so eminent,
and so useful to every circle with which he was associated. His
writings, though not as numerous as his friends could have wished,
have, nevertheless, extended his reputation throughout our land,
and caused his name in distant climes to be enrolled with the names
of Herbert, and Heber, and Keble. And, but for his gentle and re
tiring nature, he would long since have shone among the brightest
stars of our literary firmament.
" As a theologian, his reading was extensive, his acquirements
were practical, and his judgment was most sound and enlightened.
But it was chiefly in the duties of the parish that he excelled. And
you, my brethren, can never forget the interest that he has mani
fested in your welfare, the solicitude and earnestness with which
he has endeavored to guide your feet into the pastures of salvation,
and beside the living waters that flow from beneath the tree of
life. He has, with great diligence and disinterestedness, been in
and out before you as a faithful minister of the Lord Jesus Christ,
coveting no man's silver or gold, and not counting his life dear unto
him, so that he might finish his course with joy. He vvas, indeed, a
burning and a shining light ; and, for a season, you have been per
mitted to rejoice in that light. Alas that it should be so suddenly
extinguished ! Extinguished ? Not so. It has been removed into
a hio-lier and holier temple, where it will shine with increasing lustre
through the countless ages of eternity. God grant that you may be
enabled to appreciate the beams that have already fallen from it upon

496 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
your paths, and be led by their lustre through the duties and the
changes of life, and the gloom that rests upon the valley of the
shadow of death, to the renewal of your intercourse in the mansions
of immortal bliss.
" I need not say how dear he was to his friends, how precious to
them in the remembrance of his virtues and his love, and how ten
derly and affectionately they will cherish his memory. He has left
them the rich legacy of his example ; and they will reckon it among
their highest privileges that they were deemed worthy of his confi
dence and esteem.
" I know not how to allude to the affliction that has fallen upon
the scene of domestic love and peace. Blessed be God, the conso
lations of the gospel are with the bereaved and the saddened heart.
The venerable parents, — the attached brothers, — the downcast
widow and the fatherless child, — with connections and friends
most dear and intimate, — we commend them to the grace of God,
which can alone comfort and sustain them. He who casts down
can lift up again ; he who wounds can heal ; and to every son and
daughter of adversity the glorious assurance is given that all things
shall work together for good to them that love God.
" The dispensation of divine Providence which we are called
upon to improve speaks most impressively to the ministers of the
everlasting gospel ; it bids them be instant, in season and out of
season, watching for souls as men that must give account. It de
mands of them increased diligence in their work, more fervent
prayer and self-denial, a fuller and deeper renunciation of the world
and its vanities, and a stronger desire to be made instruments in
leading men to Christ. Our brethen, in quick succession, are
passing away from us. The most brilliant and the most useful are
continually leaving the scene of their labors in the Church below,
and taking their place with the white-robed worshippers that bow
before the throne. Our tears still fall for the men that stood as
pillars in the temple of the Most High : Jarvis, and Ogilby, and
Boyle, — they have but just gone to their reward, and the kindred
spirit of Croswell now joins them.
" For you, my venerable friend and brother,* — the friend and
brother, through many vicissitudes, of forty years, — the present is
a season of no common calamity. He upon whom you have leaned
only as we are allowed to lean upon an arm of flesh, with whom
you have taken so much sweet counsel, and walked in the house of
God in company, has fallen at your side, and first begun the march
of eternity. But God, his God and your God, still remains. He
* The Rev. Asa Eaton, D. D., formerly rector of Christ Church, in Boston,
and long an attendant upon the services (and a frequent assistant in the same)
in the Church of the Advent : he was present when the blow came which
terminated thb life of his beloved Mend aiid brother.

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 497
will be your comforter and supporter when earthly comforts and
supports fail. He will guide and defend you through the remainder
of your pilgrimage ; and, gided by his grace, so long your shield
and defence, you will see again the loved ones who have gone be
fore you to the realms of light and life.
" Brethren and friends, beloved in the Lord, we are placed in a
changing and a transitory world. The most cherished associations
of life are ever subject to dissolution. Our fathers, — where are
they ? and the prophets, — do they live forever 1 The parent and
the child, the ruler and the subject, the teacher and the taught, are
alike hastening on to the unseen world. But a few days, and this
whole generation will have passed away. Other forms will be seen
in our places, and different voices will be heard in our dwellings
and our streets. Whatsoever, therefore, our hands find to do, let.
us do it with our might ; for there is no knowledge nor device in
the grave whither we go. Let us work while it is day ; for the
night cometh in which rto man can work. And may God Al
mighty give us grace to improve all events, whether of good or of
evil, in such a manner that they may contribute to our preparations
for die mysteries of an unseen world and an eternal existence."
On the same day a sermon was preached in St. Paul's Church,
Boston, by the rector, the Rev. Alexander H. Vinton, D. D., and
published by request of the parish. This was an act of pure mag
nanimity ; as it was entirely voluntary and unsolicited, and, as he
himself intimates, could not have been claimed on the ground of
any particular intimacy between himself and the deceased. Indeed,
it was well known that they differed materially in opinion on some
points of theology. Hence we record this testimony with the more
gratification. The sermon is entitled, "The Translation of
Elijah ; " and is founded on 2 Kings ii. 12. The opening ideas
are so happily conceived, and so beautifully expressed, that we can
not deny ourselves the pleasure of copying them in full : —
" ' My father, my father, the chariot qf Israel and the horsemen
thereof.' This is a cry of sudden and subhme amazement. The
event connected with it was one of two or three such as the world
has never seen besides. It was the translation of the prophet Eli
jah, when he was lifted suddenly away from the earth, to inherit im
mortality without its usual antecedent death. The lot of all common
men is, after the separation of soul and flesh, to live disembodied
till the resurrection. It seems, however, to have been the divine
pleasure to select a favored few to anticipate that period ; to spare
them the pain and faintness of the death bed, the darkness of the
tomb, and the dissolving of the flesh, and to receive them, soul and
flesh immortalized at once, into his glory. So far as we can mark
63

498 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
this distinction, it has been conferred on those who stand out in the
sacred history as chiefs and leaders in the several divine dispensa
tions to man. In the patriarchal age, Enoch is distinguished as
most eminent for his saintly life ; and when he had ' walked with
God ' for three hundred years, at a time when man's youth was
older than our longevity, then, in the prime of his manhood, he
suddenly ' was not, for God took him.'
" In the second age, Moses was the leader of a new dispensation,
and his departure was attended by circumstances so mysterious as
to suggest the thought of a translation rather than a decease ; for
although it is said that Moses died, yet it is likewise added that
' God buried him,' and that the place of his sepulture was never
found. May not the statement that no man knew his grave, coupled
with the remarkable expression which precedes it, warrant the con
clusion that he died merely in appearance, that is, he disappeared
forever from human eyes 1 Man buries his dead in darkness, and
dust, and decay ; but where is God's buri_l-place, if not in the depths
of uncreated light ? And what is his manner of burial, if it be not
translation 1 On this account, with others, many have supposed
that the great chief of the Jewish dispensation was gathered, not
to his fathers, but to the hosts above who never die. Something
like this may be said of Him, the Lord of this last and best dis
pensation — the Lord whose name we bear, to whose glory we look.
For although the death of Jesus was a literal separation of the
spirit from the flesh, yet it was impossible he could be holden of
death ; and when the transient estrangement was over, he trod the
earth again with a living human frame ; and when, at length, he en
tered into his glory, and was buried from human eyes in a cloud of
light, it was a translation of both soul and body to the immortality
of heaven.
" The prophet Elijah was the chief of a dispensation which, though
subordinate to the others, was in its place indispensable, and no less
divine. He was the great representative of the prophetic office.
Reared in Israel, in a time of fearful defection of morals and of
apostasy from the truth, he was the expounder of the divine will,
the stern rebuker of iniquity in high places. He seemed to stand
amidst the wickedness that surged around him like a beacon light
in the sea. He repelled the tide of sins, and warned the careless
sinner, always immovable, always clear and true. When this re
markable person had fulfilled his ministry, he selected, by divine
direction, for his successor, Elisha, who became, for a time, his dis
ciple and friend. These two were walking together on the day
when it had been revealed to them that Elijah was to be taken
away. And as they went on and talked, while a large number
of the sons of the prophets stood upon a neighboring height to
watch the issue, there appeared a chariot of fire and horses of fire,

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 499
or, as some interpret it, a band of shining angels, which passed be
tween them and parted them asunder, and Elijah went up by a
whirlwind into heaven. Elisha saw it, and the overwhelming char
acter of the bereavement seems to have amazed him. He felt the
m.ghty loss tc the cause of God and to his own people. The strength
of Israel vvas departing with the ascending prophet. Wondering,
feanng, and yet, no doubt, exulting with a triumph caught from this
sublime transaction, he cries with a sort of bewildered enthusiasm
of grief and glory, ' My father, my father, the chariot of Israel
and the horsemen thereof! ' Thus was Elijah translated, that he
should not see death, and carried bodily to heaven."
• This introduction is followed by a few obvious remarks, suggest
ed by the history, viz., 1. The first impression forced on the mind
of Elisha of the suddenness of his bereavement. 2. The greatness
of the change that Came upon the prophet. 3. His being called to
his glory not only in the meridian of his usefulness, but in the very
act of usefulness. And then the preacher concludes : —
" My brethren, I scarcely need say that my thoughts have been
led to this subject by an event, which, since we last met together
here, has startled and subdued so many minds of this community.
The decease of a man and a minister like the Rev. William Cros
well might, at any time, occasion a wide lamentation. With a
character to win the respect of the distant and the love of the near, he
was, personally and professionally, a man of rare and exalted value.
" I could not, if it were called for, delineate him so minutely
as others who enjoyed more of his intimacy. Yet I knew him
well enough to feel the bond of personal and Christian kindness
wearing itself into my heart, where the feeling still lives, a remem
bered affection, full of sacred worth.
" His general character is known to you as one which, while it
was rich with the refinements of mind and feeling, was still a char
acter of strength and steadfastness. He was steadfast in principle,
and so in practice ; strong in affection, and likewise in conscience ;
always gentle, but never weak ; with as much of tenderness as could
consist with so much of courage. Patient he was, exceedingly ; yet
much more than manly in his patience, for he was devoutly Chris
tian. And as these qualities worked out into his professional life,
they rendered him eminent for his practical benevolence, and for
unwavering fidelity to the duties of his calling. Such as he was,
he was cut down in the ripeness of his days ; and his death, so pecu
liar, was nearest to a translation. It was sudden, almost as if he
had been rapt away by a rush of angels. Although there was more
than one previous circumstance, which, from their correspondence
with the event, now seem almost like the premonition to Elisha, —

500 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
'Knowest thou the Lord will take away thy head to-day 1' — still
it was sudden. The change, we cannot doubt, was great and
glorious ; from a life, with some of whose trials he had been sadly
familiar, to another life in God's paradise, where his soul, swelling
with the Savior's peace, remembers the wormwood and the gall no
more. He was taken, too, at his post of labor and duty. His
day's work as a prophet of God was just closed. His last teaching
was to the children of his flock ; and while the words of instruction
were yet warm, and the benediction trembled on his lips, the blow
of grace fell, and they saw him no more living.
" After the first shock and astoundment of grief, there seems a
sort of splendor investing such a death. We almost covet the
glory. Conscience, humility, hope, faith could ask no more than to*
be found at the post of sacred duty, and to go from prayer to praise.
It is the death our departed brother would have wished to die ;
and, with the grief it leaves behind, there is a rfeeling of holy ex
ultation at witnessing so worthy a fulfilment of his saintly wish
We, like the sons of the prophets who watched the translation of
Elijah, behold it from our distance in silent awe. But there is the
parish from whom God has taken away its head ; there are the
children who were blessed with his last teaching. They may well
cry out after him, as he has ascended, ' My father, my father, the
chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof! '
" My brethren, while our Christian sympathy flows out to the
bereaved, may the life of our brother be an example, and his death
an admonition to us, to untiring faithfulness in the work of God."
Among this class of testimonials, we must not fail to record one,
which, for earnest truthfulness, is not surpassed by any other. It is
from the Rev. E. M. P. Wells, of St. Stephen's House, Boston,
missionary to the poor, being the conclusion of his last annual
report, under date of Advent eve, November 29, 1851 : —
" And now, father, brothers, friends, there is a shade of sadness
on the face — a tear in the eye — a cold spot in the heart where
death has put his finger — for he hath taken away our brother.
Excuse the selfishness of my sorrow in saying my brother, my fel
low-laborer to the poor. How they loved him ! because he was
like his Master. They felt it, even though they thought not of the
original. But it was so ; 'twas of Him he had learned to 'be pitiful,
be courteous ' to the poorest, the humblest. How hard it is to be
like him, so true, so simple in doing good ! The distance was never
too great for him to go to do good for Christ's sake— the storm
was never too severe for him to find his way through it. to relieve
a tossed and beaten sufferer — the night was never too late, nor too

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 501
dark, for him to find his way to bear the cross with its consolations
to the bed of death.
" In his death, our society has lost the last of its original life
members, and the poor have lost a Croswell.
"Farewell, brother! I see, in the path of thy beautiful exodus,
the light of thy example lingering bright like a milky way in the
spiritual sky."
On the 7th of December, the second Sunday in Advent, the Right
Rev. Bishop Doane, at the request of the wardens and vestry, de
livered a discourse in the Church of the Advent, commemorative of
the late rector. This discourse was published in a pamphlet form,
and was also inserted in the ensuing number of the Church Review,
and had an extensive circulation throughout the country. We have
already freely availed ourselves of some interesting facts and state
ments from this most able and characteristic discourse ; but there
are still some portions of it, which so truly depict the life and
character ofthe deceased, — by the hand of one who knew him, we
will venture to say, better than any other man, — that our work
might be deemed incomplete without them.
Prefixed to this discourse are the following beautiful stanzas,
written, as it will be seen by the date, on the day after the death of
this " next friend and more than brother." These lines have already
appeared in several periodicals, and are doubtless familiar to many
friends ; but we cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of giving them
a permament place in these pages : —

WILLIAM CROSWELL:
POET, PASTOR, PRIEST;
ENTERED INTO LIFE, 8UNDAT, NINTH NOVEMBER, (tWENTY-PTRST AFTER TRINITY,)
MDCCCLI.
I did not think to number thee, my Croswell, with the dead,*
But counted on thy loving lips to soothe my dying bed,
To watch the fluttering flood of life ebb languidly away,
And point my spirit to the gate that opens into day.
My " more than brother " thou hast been for five and twenty years,
In storm and shine, in grief and joy, alike in smiles and tears ;
Our twin-born hearts so perfectly incorporate in one,
That not the shadow of a thought e'er marred their unison.
* The Friday before was his forty-seventh birthday.

502 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.'
Beside me, in life's highest noon, to hear the bridegroom's voice
Thy loving nature fondly stood, contented to rejoice ;
Nor boon, that ever bounteous Heaven bestowed on me or mine,
But bore for thee a keener joy than if it had been thine.
Thy fingers, at the sacred font, when God my hearth had blessed,
Upon my first-born's brow the dear baptismal rite impressed ;
My second born, thine own in Christ, our loving names to blend,
And knit for life his father's son in with his father's friend.
And when our patriarchal White, with apostolic hands,
Committed to my trembling trust the Savior's dread commands,
Thy manly form * and saintly face were at my side again —
Thy voice a trumpet to my heart, in its sincere Amen.
Beside thee once again be mine, accepted priest, to stand
And take with thee the pastoral palm from that dear Shepherd's hand,
As thou hast followed Him, be mine in love to follow thee,
Nor care how soon my course be run, so thine my rest may be.
O beautiful and glorious death ! with all thy armor on ; f
While, Stephen-like, thy placid face out, like an angel's, shone.J
The words of blessing § on thy lips had scarcely ceased to sound
Before thy gentle soul with them its resting-place had found.
O pastoral and priestly death ! poetic as thy life —
A little child to shelter in Christ's fold from sin and strife ; ||
Then, by the gate that opens through the cross for such as she,1F
To enter in thyself, with Christ forevermore to be !
G. W. D.
Riverside, 10th November, 1851.
Among the biographical sketches, which constitute a considerable
portion of this discourse, the following is valuable, as throwing much
light on the character and ministrations of the deceased : —
* " In person, Dr. Croswell was a very pattern of manly beauty." — Bos
ton Evening Traveller.
t The epistle for the day contained St. Paul's graphic description of " the
whole armor of God." His last words, in giving out the hymn, were, —
" Soldiers of Christ, arise
And put your armor on."
X " He never looked so heavenly. His smile upon the infant was ineffable
in sweetness." — MS. Letter.
§ Unable to rise after the closing collect, he said the benediction on his
knees. He died in two hours. A blood vessel was ruptured in his brain.
|| He had just baptized an infant ; and his sermon was addressed to children.
II " Suffer little children to come unto me, and forbid them not ; for of such
is the kingdom of heaven."

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 503
"Four years he ministered as rector of St. Peter's Church,
Auburn, earnestly, faithfully, most acceptably, and most successfully.
But Boston had been the scene of the labors of his earliest love.
His tastes and habits inclined him to a city life. The bonds of
nature drew this way. And more than all, his heart was yearning
to dissolve itself upon a ministry among the poor. It was no recent
passion. It was the sacred fancy of his youth. Hours and hours
had we discoursed of it together. His labors, while connected with
Christ Church, had partaken largely of that character. He had
been every body's minister, that had no other. He had qualified
himself to be the servant of Christ's poor ; and, in his yearning
nature, he could brook no other service."
After giving a detailed account ofthe organization ofthe Church
of the Advent, the settlement of the rector, and the unparalleled suc
cess of the enterprise, as shown by the official statistics, the discourse
proceeds : —
"These are encouraging statistics. This is a wonderful result.
It is an enterprise perplexed by hinderances. There is the prejudice
against it that it is new, when, in fact, it is the apostolic way.
And there are private personal prejudices, of pride, of selfishness,
of incredulity, of inexperience, of settled habit. I never knew a
man that was so well fitted to contend with all these prejudices and
overcome them. In the first place, he was filled full with the spirit
of Christ. He was, emphatically, ' a man of loves.' His heart was
large enough to take in all the world. His generosity vvas un
bounded. . . . And his kindness was as considerate and
delicate, in all its details, as it was boundless in its comprehension.
He knew the very thing to do, the very word to say, the very time
and place to do it and to say it. And of this discriminating propri
ety, the poor have a most keen and accurate perception. And his
faith was equal with his love. He was certain that it was the ancient
way, and must be right. With such a confidence, he could afford
to wait. He did not fix the time for his results. He would go on,
and find them when they came. Then he was wonderful in his
humility. He esteemed every other better than himself. He cared
not what the service was, so he could do it ; or for whom it vvas,
so it would be received. And from his humility there sprang a
beautiful simplicity, which was a letter of universal commendation.
He was a gentleman not only, but the gentlest man. No man ever
was more acceptable to the refined and intellectual. No man had
ever easier access to the poor, the ignorant, the vicious, the de
graded. He won their confidence at once. And the more they
saw of him, the more they trusted. He was so considerate of theii
feelings. He was so charitable to their infirmities He was so

504 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. LlSol.
constant in his assiduity. He knew the strings in every broken
heart ; and had, from God, the medicine to heal their hurts. He
seemed a ministering angel to them ; and they glorified God in him.
But, especially, he was so unreserved in his self-sacrifice. One says
of him, (in a letter to the preacher,) ' Dr. Croswell was instant,
in season and out of season. He never was known to refuse any
call for service or duty.' And another, than whom no living man
knows better what Christ's servant with the poor should be, speaks
thus of him, in words which, coming from the heart, go to it."
Here follows the extract, given on a preceding page, from the
Annual Report of the Rev. E. M. P. Wells. And the preacher
then proceeds : —
" How plainly I can see him now, with his old cloak wrapped
about him, which he would gladly have given to the next poor man,
if he had thought it good enough for him ; and with his huge over
shoes, which, when he put them on so deliberately, would always
bring to mind what the apostle said about having the ' feet shod
with the preparation of the gospel of peace.' As he set out upon
his ministry of mercy, you might think him very slow, and doubt if
he would find his way, and wonder when he would get back, or
if he ever would. But, ere he slept, he would have threaded every
darkest and most doleful lane in the most destitute quarter of the
city, dived into cellars, and climbed garrets, comforted a lonely
widow, prayed by a dying sailor, administered the Holy Communion
to an old bedridden woman, carried some bread to a family of half-
starved children, engaged a mother to be sure and send her youngest
daughter to an infant school, and ' made a sunshine ' in the shadiest
places of human suffering and sorrow. And when all this was
done, if he had time for it, he would charm the most refined and
intellectual with his delightful conversation and his pure and lambent
playfulness. With a manner that seemed quite too quiet, there was
an undercurrent of ceaseless, irrepressible activity; and brightest
thoughts, in happiest words, were ever oozing out, like fragrant
gums from some East Indian tree, as soft, as sweet, as balmy, as
balsamic. ' He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one.' I may
add as justly, 'exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading.' He
had an intuition for good books and the best parts of them, as he
aad also for good men.* With all he did, and with the little that
he seemed to do, — the very reverse of Chaucer's sergeant, who
' seemed busier than he was,' — he was at home in all good English
* One of the keenest knowers I have ever met observed of him that his
knowledge of men was most remarkable. " It was hard to get his judgment,"
he remarked ; " but when you had it, it was a good one. He was a staff that
you might lean on, sure that it would neither bend nor break."

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 505
learning, with perfect mastery among the poets. His classical attain
ments were much beyond the average. He was a well-read divine ;
and, beyond any man I knew, was < mighty in the Scriptures,' and
skilful in his application of them. His sermons were entirely prac
tical. The object of his preaching was apparent always — to make
men better. He sunk himself entirely in his theme — Christ
Jesus, and him crucified. He had no manner. Yet the perfect
conviction which he carried with him from the first, that he was
really in earnest, made him attractive to all sorts of people, high
and low, rich and poor, wise and simple, ignorant and learned, and
made him profitable to all. And whatever his discourse might be,
in matter or in manner, there was the cogent application always of
a holy and consistent life. His habits were simple, almost to severity.
' Having food and raiment,' he was ' therewith content.' What re
mained, after necessities were met, was so much for the poor. He
was a Churchman of the noblest pattern — a Churchman of the
Bible and of the Prayer Book — a Churchman with Andrews, and
Taylor, and Wilson. If he was least tolerant of any form of error,
it was that of Papal Rome. He would have burned, if need had
been, with Latimer and Ridley. He made no compromise with
novelties, but always said, ' The old is better.' There was no place
for the fantastic in Ms churchmanship ; it was taken up too much
with daily work, and daily prayer, and daily caring for the poor.
There was no antagonism between his poetry and practice. His
poetry was practical. It was the way-flower of his daily life ; its
violet, its cowslip, or its pansy.* It sprang up where he walked.
You could not get a letter from him, though made up of the details
of business or the household trifles of his hearth, that some sweet
thought (as natural as it was beautiful) would not bubble up above
the surface with prismatic hues that marked it his. His heart was
wholly in the priesthood. He loved to pray. He loved to minister
the sacrament. He loved to preach. He loved to catechize the
children. And, when he lifted up his manly voice in the old hymns
and anthems of the Church, it seemed as if a strain of the eternal
worship had strayed down from heaven. He was so modest and
retiring that few knew him well. But there is no one that knew
him well that will not say, with me, ' We shall not look upon his
like again.' If he excelled in any one relation after his service to
Christ's poor, it was in all the acts and offices of friendship. He was
a perfect friend. So delicate, so thoughtful, so candid, so loving,
so constant. 'More than my brother ' for a quarter of a century, I
* How fond he was of flowers ! Beautiful tributes of this kind went with
him into the grave. He was a fond lover of music too. He not only took a
leading part in the music of the church, but employed his exquisite taste iu
its selection ; so that its whole character was singularly tender, touching, and
impressive. 64

506 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. 1 1851.
dare not trust myself to speak of what he was to me, of what I
know I vvas to him."
But we must desist ; and, with one more selection, we must close
our testimonials from the pulpit. The following extracts are from
a sermon delivered by the Lord Bishop of Fredericton in the
Church of the Advent, on the evening of Good Friday, April 9, 1852.
The theme of the sermon was the Cross of Christ.
" But then, on the other hand, we have learned to look on the
cross in a right light, not only as a thing to be borne for us, but
worn for us ; worn, I mean, not as one of the world's show trinkets,
but within our very flesh, as our sore, inward, daily burden. If, by
these wounds imprinted and fastened on our souls, we can discern,
or hope we can discern, some evidences of our faith, our likeness
to Him who was bought so cheaply, sold so infamously, weighed in
human balances and found wanting, though not in the balances of
the sanctuary, then will this holy week, this looking on the cross
to-day, this humble, earnest, duteous gaze on Him whom our sins
have pierced, be at once our comfort and our sorrow, our assurance
and our fear, our warning and our safeguard.
" It is this, the one-sided, partial view of the cross, which is so
dangerous, — the seeing in Christ only our example, not our
surety, — looking on him only as our justifier, not our pattern.
Let us behold him as both the one and the other, and in that blessed
image be changed from glory to glory, even as by the spirit of the
Lord. For what if the cross be to flesh and blood most discom-
fortable ; what is there of real comfort in the world without the
cross ? Where do the bereaved and the orphan, the fatherless
child, the sorrowing relatives, the languishing, the oppressed, and
the solitary, in this boiling flood of agitation, our modern world, —
where do these troubled ones find comfort but beneath the cross 1
It was here that your honored and beloved pastor found it. He
raised the symbol on high in this place — he impressed it on your
hearts, not to direct your meretricious worship to a paltry ornament,
but to guide your most sacred affections and remembrance to the
great original. He recommended it to you, not merely as an out
ward symbol, but, by his own example, (through the inward grace
obtained from above,) by the meekness with which he bore it, by the
sympathy with vvhich he carried its healing balm into the houses of
the desolate, the diseased, and the lost, by the truth with which he
preached it, by the firmness with vvhich he died embracing it,
holding with both hands — engraved on his heart, secured by his
unshaken faith — this divine, this glorious truth, which his succes
sor has delivered to us this morning. It is finished ! it is finished !
My Lord is mine, and I am his.

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 507
" Thus, then, let us hold it ; looking off from him whose name
and virtues we thankfully and affectionately remember, and from
all names beside, into that one name ' which is above every name,'
and which alone is worthy to bear the weight of our affections, and
to receive all the praise and glory we poor sinners can give. To
Him and to Him alone, who by his cross and precious blood has
redeemed and regenerated, and doth sanctify, and will glorify us,
— if we continue faithful unto death, — to Him, with the Father
and the Holy Ghost, be all honor and glory, now and forever.
Amen ! "
There is yet another testimonial to produce, incidental indeed,
but none the less valuable on that account. It is a passage in the
argument of R. H. Dana, Esq., on the trial of the Rev. O. S. Pres
cott for heresy — a trial on charges, founded chiefly on public
rumor. Mr. Dana, after depicting, in true and glowing colors, the
vile characteristics of public rumor, goes on to say, —
" Public rumor ! I was educated to despise it. A sound, well-
conceived public opinion, on a subject upon which public opinion can
intelligently act, I regard with due respect ; but mere rumor I should
be ashamed to own as a motive for one moment or one action of
my life. When the counsel for the prosecution passed his eulogy
on the memory of the late Dr. Croswell, I could not but think
what a rebuke his whole life was to public rumor. If ever a man
was the destined victim of public rumor, that man was William
Croswell. Not left to its low haunts, but elevated to the dignity
of episcopal sanction, promulgated by episcopal proclamation, (of
the general or canonical propriety of which I do not now wish to
speak,) it charged him with ' degrading the character ofthe Church,
and perilling the souls of our people.' * But, in patience and con
fidence, he lived it all down! He went forward in the due discharge
of his noble duties, in daily prayers, daily public service, daily min
istrations to the poor, and sick, and afflicted, not without much
suffering from the relentless attacks on his name and usefulness —
sufferings which shortened his days on earth ; and the daily beauty
of his life made ugly the countenance of detraction and defamation.
Public confidence, a plant of slow growth, grew about him. Public
justice was rendered to him without a movement of his own. He
fell at his post, with all his armor on. About the time of the even
ing sacrifice the angel touched him, and he was called away. He
fell, with his face to his altar, with the words of benediction on
his lips, surrounded by an almost adoring congregation, mourned
* This allusion will be understood by recurring to page 359 of the preceding
Memoir.

508 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM, CROSWELL. [1851.
by an entire community. All men rose up and called him blessed.
From the distinguished rector of St. Paul's Church, in his noble
sermon from the text, ' My father, my father, the horses of Israel
and the chariots thereof ! ' to the humblest orphan child in the ob
scure alley who missed his daily returning visit — all, all, with one
accord, sent up their voices as incense to heaven. I had the honor
and privilege to be one of the few who, seven years before that day,
received him on his entrance into the city to take charge of his
infant parish. I am proud and grateful to remember that I was one
of those on whom, in his long struggle, in a measure, according to
my ability, he leaned for support. And seven years, almost, I be
lieve quite, to the very day, I had the melancholy privilege, with
that same company, of bearing his body up that aisle which he had
so often ascended in his native dignity and in the beauty of holiness !
" I should be an unworthy parishioner, pupil, I may say friend,
of his, if I allowed myself to defer for a moment to public rumor
on a question of character or principle. I should be forgetful of
his example if I allowed any one to do so who looked to me for
counsel and direction. No, gentlemen, let us all, lay or reverend,
call to mind his life and his death ; and let public rumor blow over
us as the idle w,ind, poisonous only to those who open their senses
to receive it."
Among the first testimonials of private friendship presented to
the bereaved widow were the following poetical effusions from Wil
liam Croswell Doane, godson of the deceased. They were ac
companied by a note, saying, " My heart would think them, and
my pen would write them. I trust you will look at them only in
the light of a humble expression of my sorrowing sympathy in
our great bereavement."
W. C.
OBT. NOVEMBER 9, 1851.
11 SO HE GIVETH HIS BELOVED SLEEP."
A faithful soldier is asleep,
With his Master's armor on ;
And his Master's sign upon his brow,
To his peaceful rest he's gone.
It is not strange God let him die,
When he had fought so well,
And kept the faith — though sad it be
For our poor hearts to feel.
Beside my second father's bier
I stood in silence bowed :

1861.] TESTIMONIALS.
His priestly robe was round his form 
A surplice for a shroud.
And so he sleeps, as soldier should,
With all his armor on,
And a happy smile upon his lips
For the conquest he has won.
We pray for " Christ's Church militant "
Each Sunday morn, at home ;
And the day that my godfather died,
E'er the sad news had come,
In it we blessed God for this saint,
Who died in faith and fear,
And, knowing not, we prayed to die
Like him who sleepeth here.
Pine Bans, November 11, 1851.

509

W. C. D.

W. C. D. TO W. C. IN HEAVEN.
My sainted second father, now,
With tears that will have way,
My eyes gaze on the precious lines
You sent me one birthday,*
To mind me how four years before,
Around the stream of life,
Your voice made promise, in my stead,
To arm me for the strife.
And now that voice is hushed in death,
And pulseless is the hand
That promised me a deathless love,
Knit in such sacred band ;
And all the words and acts of love
Thy gentle spirit gave,
Are dearer far now thou'rt asleep
Within thy peaceful grave.
O God, in whose all-blessed name
Our union first was sealed,
Remind me of his faithful life
And labors in thy field :
And such as his was be my course,
That so it may be given,
When I have " fought my fight," to meet
My godfather in heaven.
Bivebside, December 19, 1861.
* For a copy of these lines, see page 137.

510 MEMOHt OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
The following tribute of private friendship is drawn from a letter
of J. P. Couthouy, Esq., now residing in Brownville, Texas, ad
dressed to his sister, in Boston, and accompanied by a package of
letters of the deceased, with permission to employ such portions of
them as might be found necessary in making out the preceding
memoir. This, it is presumed, will not be deemed an extravagant
or overdrawn eulogium, when the close and cordial intimacy of the
parties is duly considered. In reference to the published testimo
nials received from his sister, he says, —
" You would have felt repaid could you have known all the com
fort they brought my aching heart in those bitter hours of grief
and darkness that followed my first tidings of the removal of that
most beloved friend, with whom ... all that constitutes true
friendship and makes the life of those who share in it delightful,
has passed away from my life forever. No, never on earth can the
place he held in my love be filled. How, in the nature of things,
could it 1 And were it possible, I could not wish it. More dear
to me the memory of all that he was and gave to me than could be
any joy in newer friends. I can feel the force ofthe divine saying,
' Where the treasure is there will the heart be also ; ' and would not
exchange what I possess in him for any kept in earthen vessels ;
though in the weakness of our nature I cannot yet repress an emo
tion of bitter anguish at the thought that he is gone, even while
I feel and rejoice that it is to his exceeding great reward, and
would not that he were yet of us who have still to fight the battle
with sin and temptation, — enemies without, and yet worse within, —
out of which he has come triumphant. It may be that I am not
alone in the feeling, but it seems to me as if no one could have
loved him with the peculiar affection that was mine ; and I expe
rience an emotion akin to jealousy when I read of others claiming
to have known and appreciated his worth and the beauty of his
character equally with myself. As memory wanders back to the
golden period of our first friendship, when both were in the prime
of young manhood, when we were inseparable as lovers, and the
passage of a day without our meeting was a matter of marvel,
and the one had scarcely a thought or hope that was not known
to or shared by the other, I cannot but ask myself who, at least
among his later friends, could know and love the man Croswell,
as I? How my heart swells at the recollection of the happy
hours we have passed together, heart answering to heart, or wandered
out from the thronged city without any definite object, yet of a
surety, not unprofitably. What wisdom, clothed in noble simplicity,
what volumes of unwritten poetry of the loftiest character, were
wont, in those genial rambles, to be poured forth by him in lavish
profusion ! Never may I hope to meet with such wealth of ideas

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 511
in any one man again. And it was the deep, yet unaffected, re
ligious feeling that pervaded all he said or did, that was the greatest
charm about him. He not only saw all the ' beauty of holiness '
himself, but had the rare gift of making it apparent to all who came
in contact with him. I do not fear, dear E., to weary you with too
much speech of our friend, even though I can say nothing new ;
and besides, there is no other topic in which we are so mutually
interested. You may imagine how deeply I was moved by the evi
dences of his continued affection and sympathy contained in the
box lately received from home ; and by the same package that held
the acceptable marks of his interest in our infant parish, to find
Dr. Vinton's beautiful tribute to his memory. It was not till then
that my loss was fully realized. On you, who were present when
the summons went forth for him to meet the Bridegroom, who were
privileged to look upon ' the last of earth,' the blow, terrible as it
was, could hardly have fallen with such bewildering effect as it did
on me. You were able to familiarize yourselves, in some measure,
with the sad truth before he was taken from your sight forever ; and
now that he is not, I imagine that had such a privilege been mine,
the loss had been far easier borne. Yet who shall say 1 The heart
of each one knoweth only its own bitterness ; and, doubtless, many
find it hard as I to drain this chalice. God grant that the myrrh
it contains may be for the health of all our souls."
The following lines from the graceful and well-practised pen of
Mrs. Sigourney, first appeared in " The Calendar," and are trans
ferred to these pages with peculiar gratification : —
CHRISTMAS MEMORIES OF THE LATE REV. DR. WILLIAM
CROSWELL.
Meek ruler of the sacred lyre,
Of genius true and bright,
Whose thoughts were like the hymning choir
That cheer the temple rite :
Hark ! hear we not those lays once more
In lively numbers glide,
And to our Lord glad descant pour
At blessed Christmas-tide ?
* " Now gird your patient loins again ;
Your wasting torches trim ;
The chief of all the sons of men —
Who will not welcome Him ?
* Extract from an Advent Hymn, by Rev. Dr. W. Cbosweh ; see page 95
of this work.

512 MEMOLR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1851.
Rejoice ! the hour is near — at length
The Journeyer on his way,
Comes in the greatness of his strength
To keep his holy day.
" With woven wreaths and garlands sweet,
Along his wintry road,
Conduct him to his green retreat,
His sheltered, safe abode ;
Fill all his courts with sacred songs,
And from the temple wall
Wave verdure o'er the faithful throngs
That keep the festival."
Deep silence checks the poet's strain, —
And yet a little space
It seems since with a gathered train,
In yonder hallowed place,*
He gladly swelled the loud response,
Or chant of solemn mirth,
Amid the band of white-robed priests
Who hailed a bishop's birth.
But soon, while on a listening throng
Eternal truths he prest,
The pale-browed angel chained the tongue
That fain his flock had blest :
• And sudden, with a lightning blow,
Cut short his work of love ; —
His Sabbath prayer was breathed below,
His Sabbath praise above.
L. H. S.
Christmas, 1851.

The subjoined verses are inscribed on a well-executed monu
mental piece, drawn by Mrs. Cobb, and presented to the bereaved
widow, with the following note: —
My dear Mrs. Croswell : It has given me great pleasure to
paint this little piece for you, which I wish you to accept as a slight
memento of the respect and affection I cherished for your dear de
parted husband. I hope it will be as pleasant for you to look upon
* He was present at the consecration of the assistant bishop of Connecticut,
in St. John's Church, Hartford, and apparently in perfect health, but ten days
before his death.

1851.] TESTIMONIALS. 5J3
as it was to me to draw ; and I shall feel more than compensated
for the time bestowed on it.
Believe me yours, very affectionately,
P. B. COBB.
Ca.m, on the bosom of thy God,
Blest spirit, rest thee now ;
E'en while on earth thy footsteps trod,
His seal was on thy brow.
Dust, to its narrow home beneath ;
Soul, to its place on high ; —
Those who have seen thy smile in death,
Need never fear to die.
Were it consistent with a true sense of delicacy, the biographer
might add greatly to the number of unpublished testimonials of pri
vate friendship, both in poetry and prose, and especially in the
form of letters of condolence addressed to the parents, and to the
widow and child of the deceased. But he must content himself
with such brief extracts as may serve to illustrate some of the prom
inent points in his life and character.
The Rev. Dr. Coit, his intimate friend and contemporary, to his
father, Hartford, November 12, 1851 : —
" I have known him for more than thirty years, and I have never
known any thing of him which it is not pleasant to remember. He
was a kind and affectionate friend to me when we were near each
other ; and it was always a gratification rather than a labor, to aid
him professionally. It seemed to give hiin pleasure to have me
with him on saints' days ; and the last time I recollect preaching
for him was on such an occasion. He appeared to relish such
labors, * out of season,' with the zest of a Geo. Herbert.
Most particularly do I regret, that in the hurry of the late conse
cration day, I was not able so much as to take his hand. We
knelt side by side at the chancel and received the elements together,
and his devout tones are yet familiar to my ear. It seems as
if he was stricken down at my very side, and makes the blow nearer
to me. Blessed be God that I can believe it was the last of his
sorrows forevermore."
The Right Rev. Bishop Southgate, his successor to the rector
ship of the Advent, to his father, July 19, 1852 : —
" How deep a hold your son had upon the affections of the
parish, I have almost daily opportunity to witness, especially
65

514 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
among the poor and the afflicted ; and I have no doubt there are
those among us who look back to their intercourse with him as
embracing the most pleasant reminiscences of their lives, and for
ward to their reunion with him as among their most joyful hopes.
He did his work faithfully and well, and I know no man of modern
times whose last years were so much like the life of a confessor,
or whose death was so much like that of a martyr. I often think
of his present state and future bliss, as having a far richer endow
ment of happiness than will fall to the lot of most of the laborers
in the vineyard of the Lord. Most peculiarly did he leave his judg
ment with God ; most peculiar, therefore, will be his defence and
exaltation in the last great day. As for the parish, I know of no
feeling more frequently in my mind than this — that if it should
prosper and become permanent and widely influential, one of my
strongest emotions of happiness in contemplating it at that height
will be in seeing that it is a noble and fitting monument to the
memory of him who laid its foundation. May that memory never
cease from among us ! "
Another testimonial, incidental in its nature, but none the less
striking and significant, is found in the following dedication of " A
Selection of Ancient Psalm Melodies, adapted to the Canticles of
the Church in the United States of America," published by Dr. F.
E. Oliver, in Boston, 1852 : —
" To the memory of the late Rev. William Croswell, D. D.,
Rector of the Church of the Advent, whose exquisite taste in all
that adds dignity and beauty to the solemn service of the sanctuary
was alone surpassed by his zeal and fidelity as a priest in the
Church of God, this Collection of Sacred Chants is dedicated.'

THE COMMEMORATION.
At the expiration of a year from the demise of the late rector,
commemorative services were held in the Church of the Advent,
under the direction of the new incumbent, the Right Rev. Bishop
Southgate, of which he gives the following explanation, intro
ductory to the sermon preached on the occasion, by the Rev. A. C.
Coxe, of Hartford : —
" It had been proposed, soon after the decease of Dr. Croswell,
that some appropriate commemoration of him should be had, and
that a sermon should be preached upon the occasion. The circum-

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 515
stances which prevented the fulfilment of this, the universal wish of
his parishioners, need not here be detailed. When the present writer
succeeded to the rectorship of the Church of the Advent, several
months had passed since Dr. Croswell's decease. It then appeared
untimely to execute the plan proposed. The fitting moment had
gone by ; and the writer, wishing also himself to render a tribute to
the memory of his predecessor, vvas fain to wait until some future hour
should bring the thoughts of his parishioners again into fresh contact
with the departed. The anniversary of his death seemed a proper
moment for the purpose. The associations of the event would then
be revived. The scenes of the same day a year before, would, in
memory, be repeated. How appropriate to make this the hour of
commemoration — to fulfil the purpose which would have been ex
ecuted twelve months ago, if untoward hindrances had not prevented !
The writer accordingly invited several of his clerical brethren, bishops
and priests, friends of the deceased, to aid him in the commemo
ration. All came who could come. The absence of the venerable
father of the departed, though unavoidable, was, of all the absences,
most deeply regretted. The services (briefly to recapitulate them)
were as follows : —
" Morning prayer at 9, A. M. — The Rev. Henry Burroughs,
Jr., late rector of St. John's Church, Northampton, commenced the
service. The Rev. W. L. Childs, priest associate in the Church
of the Advent, Boston, read the lessons. The Rev. T. Edson,
D. D., rector of St. Anne's Church, Lowell, said the Nicene Creed
and the prayers. The Introit vvas the 23d psalm of the Psalter.
The ante-communion service was read by the Rev. A. L. Baury, late
rector of St. Mary's Church, Newton Lower Falls, the Rev. Asa
Eaton, D. D., reading the epistle. The first two verses of the 212th
hymn were sung after the gospel. The Rev. W. L. Childs said
the offertory and the prayer for the church militant. The exhor
tation, invitation, and confession were read by the Rev. A. C. Coxe,
rector of St. John's Church, Hartford, Conn. The absolution was
pronounced by the Right Rev. Horatio Southgate, D. D., rector of
the Church of the Advent, who also read the sentences following.
The Trisagion was sung by the choir and people. The prayer of
preparation, the consecration, the oblation, and invocation were
said by Bishop Southgate. The last tvvo verses of the 93d hymn
were sung. The holy sacrament was administered to the clergy
present, ten in number, by Bishop Southgate, and to a large body
of the laity by the Rev. Dr. Eaton and the Rev. Mr. Baury. The
Rev. Mr. Baury said the post-communion office ; the Gloria in Ex
celsis was sung by the choir and people ; and the benediction was
pronounced by the rector of the church.

516 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
" Evening prayer at half past seven, P. M. — The Rev. P. H.
Greenleaf, rector of St. Mark's Church, Boston, commenced the
service. The 5th selection of Psalms was sung by the choir and
people. The Rev. N. Hoppin, rector of Christ Church, Cambridge,
read the lessons. The Rev. T. R. Lambert, chaplain U. S. N.,
said the creed and prayers. The 132d psalm of the Psalter was
sung from the 8th verse inclusive. The Rev. Mr. Coxe preached
the sermon.* The offertory and prayer for the Church militant were
said by the Rev. J. P. Robinson, rector of the Free Church of St.
Mary for Sailors, Boston. The 88th hymn (the hymn announced
by Dr. Croswell after the stroke of death had fallen upon him)
was sung. The collect for All Saints' day, and the first prayer in
the office for the burial of the dead, were said by the Rev. Mr.
Baury. The benediction was pronounced by the rector.
" The offertory for the day amounted to nine hundred and forty
dollars — of which two hundred and eighty-seven dollars, being con
tributed by the ladies of the parish for the special object of erecting
a monument as a ' tribute of affection ' at the grave of the de
ceased, was so appropriated ; and the remainder added to the fund
for the building of a new Church of the Advent — a nobler monu
ment still to his memory.
" And now, what shall the writer say of the day itself and the
spirit which animated it 1 It was most joyous, yet most serene.
There was no perturbation, no excitement, hardly any sensible motion.
All moved on so quietly, so placidly, yet so cheerfully, that the flow
was like that of a stream, far away from the world, through still
groves — like the movement, he imagined, of the pure river of the
water of life which proceedeth out of the throne of God and of the
Lamb. All the day long there oscillated through his mind the thought
of Herbert's line — ' O day, most calm, most bright ! '
H. S.
Chukch or the Advent, Boston, November 23, 1852."

Boston, Novembers, 1852.
Reverend and dear Sir : We, the clergy present and officiating at. the
services in the Church of the Advent to-day, and several of the laity there
present, respectfully request the publication of your sermon delivered this
evening in commemoration of the late Rev. Dr. Croswell, believing that
* The faithful witness ; or, the pastoral work and character, as exemplified
in the life and death of William Choswell, D. D., first rector of the Church
of the Advent, Boston ; being a sermon preached in said church on the first
anniversary of his death, November 9, 1852, by A. C. Coxe, M. A., rector of
St. John's Church, Hartford, Conn.

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 517
it will be a fit and appropriate memorial of his superior character and inval
uable labors as a parish priest, and that it may thus serve as a model for
those who aspire to excellence in the pastoral office, while it will furnish a
useful lesson to the laity in their relations to the clergy and the Church of
God. Faithfully, your friends and brethren,
HORATIO SOUTHGATE, ASA EATON,
ALFRED L. BAURY, THEODORE EDSON,
THOS. R. LAMBERT, JOHN 1". ROBINSON.
NICHOLAS HOPPIN, W. L. CHILDS,
THERON METCALF, WILLIAM FOSTER OTIS,
G. C. SHATTUCK, Jr., JOHN P. TARBELL,
FYTCHE EDWARD OLIVER, RICHARD H. SALTER,
RICHARD H. DANA, Jn., HENRY M. PARKER,
HENRY T. PARKER, J. H. WAKEFIELD,
JOSEPH BURNETT, DANIEL CHAMBEliLIN.

Hartford, November 20, 1852.
Right reverend Sir, reverend Brethren, and Gentlemen: It gives
me pleasure to receive your favorable opinion of my endeavor to preach ap
propriately on so suggestive a subject as that of the life and character of
the late Dr. Croswell. If my sermon can be rendered further serviceable
to his parishioners and friends by its publication, I am not at liberty to with
hold it ; and I herewith submit it to your disposal.
I remain your obedient servant,
A. C. COXE.
The Rt. Rev. Dr. Southgate,
Rev. Dr. Eaton.
Hon. Theron Metcalf,
and others.

TO THE REV. ASA EATON, D. D.
Reverend Doctor: When I reflect how much your venerable example
has contributed to the progress and stability of the Church of the Advent ;
how much your daily converse comforted and strengthened the great heart
of its departed rector ; and how you received his last sigh, and dismissed
his spirit out of this miserable world, in the commendatory words of our
mother the Church, — I cannot but hope you will accept this brotherly tribute
to his memory, and by so doing confer a favor upon me. Let me add a fer
vent prayer, that your gray hairs, which are declared tobe a crown of glory
to the servants of God, may long be permitted to bow daily in the accus
tomed place before the altar ; and that your presence may thus animate the
faith and perseverance of many, before you shall be called to that better
crown of glory which fadeth not away. I remain,
With veneration and affection,
Your faithful servant, A. C. C.
Hartford, November, 1852.

518 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
SERMON.
**Bt it he being dead tet speaketh."— Seb. stL 4.
In all its relations to mortality, the gospel of Jesus Christ illus
trates its origin from God by its wonderful adaptation to the
wants of man. Death and the grave, which mock all human systems,
put the crowning witness to the religion of Him who hath brought
life and immortality to light. Hence it was that Jesus and the
resurrection were the burden of apostolic testimony, appealing
so tenderly to the greatest of human miseries as to win the ear,
and arrest the conscience, of intelligent heathenism, when they.
would have been deaf to any thing less fundamental and complete.
Life from the dead became the great idea of the gospel, as the
glorious correlative of the remission of sin ; and, at once, the
converted nations enshrined it, in all places, where despair had
reigned before. No more the sepulchre was inscribed with symbols
of decay and extinction : the urn and the inverted torch gave place
to the ark and the sprouting branch ; and the wail of eternal sepa
ration was transformed into the sweet song of expectation and of
promise. Something indeed was indulged to the natural feelings
of momentary bereavement : the Christian might sorrow, but not
as without hope ; and when devout men carried Stephen to his burial,
they made great lamentation over him, but not as forgetting his
dying rapture in the vision of his Savior, or the fact with which
the evangelist concludes his story — the fact that all the cruel blows
and peltings of his martyrdom could do no more than make him
fall asleep*
In such a spirit the primitive Church received in earnest the
proverb of the preacher — "A good name is better than precious
ointment, and the day of death than the day of one's birth." t With
sweet economy of faith, she made practical the separate parts of
the inspired adage, both at once, when she celebrated her holy mar
tyrs, and kept the days of their suffering as days of festivity. It is
in the same spirit, my brethren, that we keep this day. It is
one marked in your parochial history by the striking and significant
death of one whose life vvas that of a confessor, and whose
falling asleep was like that of sacrificing Abel, at the altar of our
very Paschal Lamb. So sudden and so afflictive was your bereave
ment, that you sorrowed indeed like men, and yet were comforted
like Christians. The year has come round again, renewing our ten
der recollections of his holy walk with God, and of his translation to
his more immediate presence ; and we mark the day as a parochial
* Acts vii. 60. + Eccles. vii. 1.

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 519
feast. Is it that we may merely renew our tears, or prolong the pa
geantry of mourning ? God forbid ! He is at rest, delivered out of
a world in which his pure spirit found very little that was congenial,
and satisfied with the joys of paradise, the society of saints, and the
vision of God. We keep the day of his deliverance with gratitude
for his example, and with prayer that we may so follow it that we
may soon rejoin him among the spirits of just men made perfect.
We keep the day, that we may soberly review the providence of
God, and, in a calmness impossible to our first grief, attempt the
discovery of its mysterious import. We believe that being dead
he yet speaketh ; and we keep the day, that we may the better
mark and learn his testimony, and inwardly digest *what it should
impress upon our souls. To this end, may the Holy Spirit bless
and sanctify the words which I shall endeavor to speak iu depend
ence upon his most gracious and ready help, through our Lord
Jesus Christ.
I. The text supplies me with a fruitful subject for reflection
at the very outset. Whether it were Abel's faith or Abel's sacri
fice which was most immediately in view when the apostle
wrote, that " by it he being dead yet speaketh," the sense is, in
fact, the same. Abel's altar, his gifts, his sacrifice were more ac
ceptable than Cain's, because they demonstrated his faith as rest
ing in the merits and death of the promised Lamb of God. By
it the martyr had spoken of Jesus through all the ages of pa
triarchs and Aaronic priests ; and, consequently, his testimony was
fresh and perpetual when figures and types were done away. The
unity of the faith is the groundwork, therefore, of a genuine
Christian testimony. He whose faith is that of Abel and that of
St. Paul ; he alone to whom Jesus Christ is Alpha and Omega,
the beginning and the end of revelation ; he alone, being dead, can
yet speak any thing to the purpose, or that is greatly important to
be heard and known. Hence it is worthy of consideration, to
begin with, that he whom we commemorate this day lived and
died for the faith once delivered to the saints. He was not the
author of any new doctrine or scheme of salvation, but the steward
of that which Christ had committed to his trust. His life was a
consistent testimony to scriptural and apostolic truth. He knew
nothing among you but Christ and him crucified. He preached
not himself, neither the wisdom of this world, but the same gospel
which, even when St. Paul preached it, was the stumbling block
of the Jew, and foolishness to the Greek.
But while Christian was his name, Catholic was his surname.
The terms should, indeed, be synonymous ; but in an age when
many whom we would not deny to be Christians are, nevertheless,
sorely departed from first faith and first love, it would savor of

520 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
affectation, in speaking of a life so marked as Dr. Croswell's, to
say nothing of that primitive and apostolic character which distin
guished his rehgion from the current Christianity of our day. In
a word, then, he was a Christian of no sect ; such a Christian as all
Christians would have been, had the stream of undefiled religion
continued to run without admixture, from St. Paul, and St. James,
and St. Peter, down to our own times. And as he was a Chris
tian of no man 's sect, so he was a theologian of no man 's school.
Never a divine ran his course, from his diaconate to his decease,
with a theology, according to the standards of our Church, more
simply orthodox, uncolored, and unmingled. Such as he was in
the diocese of Connecticut in his amiable novitiate, such he vvas here,
when he bowed his manly head, and fell before this altar, in the
raiment of his priesthood. And this I specially remark, because it
was his lot, in the middle stage of life, to encounter the trying ex
periences incident to a great theological excitement, which, as it
rose subsequent to the period when his own theological character
was formed, so it became violent, and spent itself before he rested
from his labors. And yet there were not wanting some who failed
to consider, that, however its consequences may have affected hiin
in Ids relations to others, it found and left him the same ; always
serene and unmoved, shining on, like a star, above the region of
tempest. But any one familiar with his history must know that if
some who moved in a curve, and who drew near only to diverge,
seemed for a moment to walk with him, his path was always a
straight line ; and that, if his course for a while appeared to mingle
with discordant elements, it was only as sometimes a bright river
passes through a turbid lake, and yet keeps itself transparent, and
emerges and flows on pure as ever. His uniform consistency with
self, and with the truth of his first love, was beautiful to behold. I
look back and marvel at the composure with which, amid heats,
and paroxysms, and outbreaks, amid perils on the right hand and
on the left, and through trials which were fiery for a time, he kept
his even way, and hoped and made the best of others, and simply
walked with God.
And as I have spoken of him as a steward, I must be indulged
in another remark upon his character. A man who is the inventor
of his own doctrines may do with thera as he will ; but it is required
in stewards that a man be found faithful.* A steward must keep
that which is committed to his trust. But our age has a notion of
liberality quite the reverse. Tenacious of personal things, men
would be liberal with that which does not belong to them, and com
promise for every thing else by meeting on the common ground of
a surrender ofthe precious truth of God. In this sense no Church-
* 1 Cor. iv. 2.

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 521
man can be liberal. The testimony of Jesus he must keep entire,
and even earnestly contend for it. But this being reserved, he can
be tolerant and charitable ; and of this we have an example in our
departed Croswell, to vvhich I can think of no superior. How
faithful he was as a steward, yet how liberal as a man ! In him
there was fidelity, but no bigotry ; and no one could drive him into
intolerance by any intolerance towards him. His lips could speak
no bitter word, his neck could wear no party yoke. Towards
brethren widely differing from him in theological opinion and poli
cy, he cherished kindly relations ; and if a man was but good and
honest, however mistaken, he was sure of a friend in Croswell.
His spirit, if I mistake not, was precisely that of the moderation
vvhich is characteristic of our Church in matters not fundamental ;
and O that, with his departure into paradise, a double portion of
his charity may have fallen upon his brethren ! It is what we most
need among us ; it must not be buried with him. Let us cherish it
as we do the memory of that radiant countenance, in which the
dignity of manhood was so marvellously blended with the innocency
of the child, and which reflected together the meekness and gentle
ness ofthe Lamb upon Mount Zion, with something of the majesty
ofthe Lion ofthe tribe of Judah.
I have spoken of the simplicity of the gospel as his entire testi
mony. He lived it, as he preached it, in the integrity of the New
Testament, and according to its faithful witness the Prayer Book.
Yet his mission vvas, confessedly, a peculiar one, as meeting the
wants and emergencies of peculiar times. It was his to be a re
pairer of the breach, and a restorer of paths to dwell in. Much of
his labor was, of necessity, given to things which ought not to be
left undone, rather than to things he longed, above all, to do. But
in this he followed the example, and lived over the experiences,
of apostles. When St. Paul preached to Jews and Greeks the
same unalterable gospel which was ever at his heart, did he also
adopt, with these diverse people, one unalterable method of pre
senting it 1 Did the same things need to be done in utterly differ
ent circumstances 1 Or when to the Jews he became a Jew, did he
then glory the less in the offence of the cross 1 How broadly sig
nificant is the lesson taught us by the fact that an apostle, the very
last to be impeached of Judaizing, did nevertheless consider it part
of his work to shave his head, and perform Jewish rites in the
temple, at the instance of St. James, that he might gain the Jews !
Here was, indeed, an act of concession, and one confessedly ex
treme ; but it vvas founded on a fixed principle, which is largely
illustrated in the Acts of the Apostles, and from which we may in
fer that nothing can be more adverse to the spirit of the gospel
than the idea — too prevalent in our times — that the gospel is to
be preached only in one way, and according to certain conventional
66

522 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
prescriptions of local society. The Church has need of the richest
diversity of gifts in her sons, and of ways and means the most va
rious, for bringing them to bear upon her work. Without dispar
aging the task of any faithful minister of Christ, or condemning
him who, taking things as he finds them, performs a round of duty
closely graduated to what the people absolutely exact of their re
ligious teachers, I am sure that the exigencies of these times de
mand inventive efforts to gather in the wanderers and to save the
lost ; and that to this end every blessed art known to our Commu
nion, and coincident with her institutions and services, should be
put forth by zealous priests and laymen to catch men. We want
again the missionary who shall lift up his voice in the wilderness
like Elijah, and the street preacher who shall stand up like Jonah
in the city. We want churches in which the rudest solemnities
shall be dignified by zeal and unction in the worshippers ; and we
want churches in which a like devotion may express itself, with all
the accompaniments of Christianized art which are familiar to our
Mother Church. The religion of Christ is meant for all men, for
all ranks in society, for all circumstances, and for all times ; and in
this it differs, radically, from the religion of sect, which is always
adapted only to a peculiar sort, or class, or tribe of men, and yet
denounces all whom it fails to inoculate with its narrow enthusi
asm. The Church alone can employ every thing that is not sinful
to the glory of God and the edification of his intelligent creatures ;
and by methods as various as the minds he has made, and as differ
ent as the manifold circumstances in which sinful consciences are
languishing, she knows how to minister the same gospel, and bring
souls to the foot of the same cross of Christ. And although she
has been greatly impeded, by external hinderances, in the exercise
of her abundant gifts, I think the history of the Anglican Commu
nion, since the era of her happy reformation, will be found richly
illustrative of these remarks. From her pulpit at Paul's Cross to
her missionary tents in India and Australia, in her universities and her
cathedrals, in her schools and hospitals, and in the noble works of
her theologians, and in the rich tributes of many of her laymen to
her common treasures, what extraordinary r.esources have been
subordinated and sanctified to the preaching of the gospel and the
purification of society, by the sublime morality which it involves !
In spite of defects in the work, and of obstacles to its completion,
the world may be searched in vain for the parallel of such a
perpetual flood of blessings as for three hundred years has been
pouring forth, in consequence of this large and fertile econo
my, from the bosom of our Mother Church upon her own imme
diate household, and through them upon the universal family of
man. But in renewing the vitality of the Mother Church in this
western world, while we have gained some privileges unknown to

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 523
her, is it not to be feared that we have lost something of her rich
ness and completeness, and almost of necessity contracted some
thing that is meagre from surrounding influences of sect 1 I ask
the question, not that I would see the identical details and features
of the Church of England reproduced in the widely different cir
cumstances to which we must adapt ourselves, but only to suggest
that something corresponding, and of the same character, though
national and becoming to our social state, is exceedingly desirable,
and daily making itself felt as a want. In a word, instead of al
lowing ourselves to be stifled and cramped by the cold and heavy
pressure of surrounding sects, it is the Church's duty to break
forth on the right hand and the left, in her own free spirit,
and to impress society with her innumerable forms of mercy to
mankind. It would be unjust to the memory of departed saints, and quite
as unfair to living worth, to insinuate that such a development of
our ecclesiastical life is not already largely begun. The venerable
prelate who has just dropped his patriarchal mantle and rested from
his labors will ever deserve grateful mention as a pioneer in mis
sionary enterprises which have done much to draw out the zeal and
energies of our Church ; and many others have labored successfully
to elevate her theological learning, and to make her the fostering
mother of Christian education in our country. Fresh notes of life
and activity abound on every side, in spite of many scandals and
discouragements ; and many are the apostolic bishops, and parochial
priests, and faithful laymen, who, in noiseless self-devotion, are ex
tending the influence and power of the Church, and laying foun
dations for future and permament good. But with these heartfelt
tributes to others, let me claim that it was the peculiar work of the
departed founder of this parish to institute among us a high and
primitive type of the pastoral ministry, and to demonstrate the entire
consistency of our ritual and worship, with a perfection of parochial
organization hitherto hardly attempted in our land, and too gener
ally despaired of as impossible. By it he being dead yet speaketh. I
am far from believing that the peculiar characteristics of this Church
of the Advent, although furnishing a high and noble pattern, can
be universally or generally adopted at present in our communion.
I believe that other parishes must be worked in other ways, and
that wisdom will be justified of all her children in their several
vocations ; but, as a pastor, I rejoice that the Church of the Advent
exists to prove what may be done, and done successfully, among us ;
and that the pure and holy example of its first rector is before me
to inspire me with a spirit of pastoral devotion, and to furnish me
with such a standard of pastoral fidelity as many a true-hearted
minister of the preceding generation has known only from the
records of the past, and credited, in large measure, to the affec-

524 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
tionate imagination of biographers, or to the mellow light through
which we are fond of looking back to primitive antiquity.
II. But in recurring to my primary observation upon the charac
ter of Croswell as a witness for the truth, let me say that, in thus
preaching Christ and him crucified in the pastoral office, he not
only preached the faith of Abel, but adopted Abel's way of preach
ing in the essential point vvhich St. Paul commends. For the sacri
fice of Abel was distinguished from that of Cain not only in the
faith which inspired it, but in the obedience with which it was per
formed. The institution of bloody sacrifice, and its celebration by
the worshipper in the solemn offering of a spotless lamb, was in that
age the divine ordinance in which the visible Church showed forth
her Lord's death until he should come. The faithful observance of
this divine institution distinguished Abel's religion from that of Cain,
who worshipped upon a theory, and with inventions quite his own.
Now, our times are distinguished by nothing in religion so much as
by the flagrancy with which it substitutes will-worship for the ordi
nances of God. Our age is full of a fundamental error with regard
to Christianity ; but it is the old mistake of Cain. Religion is re
garded as an idea, as a sentiment, a philosophy ; but the gospel is an
institution, an organized society, a kingdom — the kingdom of heaven.
Organic Christianity, as a direct and historical product of the incar
nation, deriving life from Christ himself through the Holy Ghost,
— a life diffused by veins and arteries through a body knit together
by joints and bands, — such a Christianity, although nothing less vvas
ever imagined until lately as answering to the name, is absolutely
unconceived by a large majority of those who call themselves Chris
tians in our enlightened country. Yet this organic Christianity it is
which alone has unity of faith with the apostles, or can insure the
perpetuation of unalterable truth from age to age. Let the history
of religion in this city illustrate my remark. In such a city, then,
distinguished by many characteristics of preeminent merit, but iso
lated by its peculiar sectarianism from the sympathies of Christendom
in a degree unparalleled by any other city which is called Christian
upon the earth, it was Croswell's mission to give prominence to
that pattern of the gospel to wliich the times are so indifferent.
This altar, like Abel's altar, vvas set up in testimony to the fact that
Jesus Christ was the founder of a family, and not the author of
an idea, or the doctor of a system of morals. In the same spirit of
faith it has been diligently served day by day, aud year by year,
in season and out of season, through good report and evil report,
with many and with few, always with the promised presence of
Christ, till at last the good servant was called by the Master, while
his loins were girded and his light burning in his appointed lot ; and
by it he being dead yet fpeaketh. No matter how noiseless his task :

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 525
though the world took no note of him while he thus ministered,
the altar has been fed with sacrifice, God in Christ has been wor
shipped, and he has been, like Antipas, a faithful witness in the
midst of another Pergamos ; and Christ will use his ministry, and
make it fruitful in his own way. His sudden but beatified death
has already spoken to many in behalf of his work, to whom the
protracted beauty and purity of his life might have appealed, year
after year, in vain.
The Church of the Advent, then, vvas instituted to survive men,
as part and parcel of that kingdom which was founded upon a Rock.
It was not set up by an admiring people for the display of a popular
orator, nor for the gratification of personal ends and wishes ; but,
with only a secondary reference to human instruments, it was in
tended to supply spiritual necessities, and to develop special faculties
of Christian benevolence, which needed to be called forth and wisely
applied. There was an emergency, — work waiting to be done, —
an opportunity not to be lost, — it would have been an injury to the
Church if no one had come forward to meet it. In such circum
stances, Dr. Croswell returned to Boston. Without hostility to
existing parishes, but leaving to each its peculiar work, this parish
began to fulfil its mission. It was intended to perpetuate the daily
public service of God, and the supply of a house of prayer to all
people. It was designed to unite all classes in the brotherhood of
faith, and to demonstrate that our communion, so far from being the
church of the rich, is the place where the poor and the rich may
meet together, because the Lord is the Maker of them all.* It was
designed to promote systematic charities, and to make them in
reality gifts to the altar and oblations to the Lord. It aimed to en
franchise the sacraments, as preachers of Christ crucified,! aud to
legitimate the function of oral preaching as the means of inflaming
Christian worship, and not the medium of its total eclipse. It aimed,
incidentally, to consecrate sacred art and personal talent, by calling
them off from worldly uses to adorn the sanctuary and to elevate
the solemnities of worship. In entire conformity to the laws of the
Church and the practice of our Anglican Mother, it proposed to
enrich the service at suitable times with the heavenly accompani
ment of music, and with the introduction of anthems and choral
responses. These indifferent things, as occasion might prescribe,
but, at all events, the diligent observance of the festival system of
the Church, and the vitalizing of all its ordinances and prescriptions ;
in process of time, the founding of parochial charities ; and at all
times a careful attention to the spiritual and physical wants of the
needy ; the establishment of a parish school and of an asylum for
orphans, and many like institutions of benevolence, were constantly
* Prov. xxii. 2. t 1 Cor. xi. 26.

526 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.
kept in view. " Against such there is no law." Who dares say
aught against them 1 Love to God and good will to men were, in
short, the entire spirit of this foundation, as they were preeminently
the spirit of the founder, from whose fraternal lips, now cold and
silent in the dust, I have gathered these details in many privileged
communings. Such was his work, and by it he being dead yet
speaketh. But I speak to those who know all these things even better than
I do, by daily familiarity with his labors, and by a long and affec
tionate strengthening of his hands in God. Why do I dwell on such
a review ? Because, my brethren, they yet depend upon your
fidelity for their entire realization. Much has been done ; behold
how much ! When I compare the scene before me with my first
recollections of this parish, I am astonished by what God has done
for you : and yet much remains to be accomplished and secured.
The mysterious dispensation which called away your first pastor
while his work was yet in progress has hallowed it, and taught you
practical trust in God, while it has demonstrated that the under
taking does not depend on man. God has provided for your im
mediate wants in a manner so providential and signal as to afford
you every consolation and encouragement. In the abilities and in
the apostolic office of his successor, you have marked reason to
believe that God is with you, and a very present help in time of
trouble. At the same time, while the sanctity of your departed
rector's memory is a rich endowment, it is a perpetual call upon
you for perseverance and renewed effort. By it he being dead yet
speaketh. From his grave he bids you be fruitful in every good work,
and exhorts you, by devotion to this parochial enterprise in par
ticular, to " contend earnestly for the faith once dehvered to the
saints." III. To be a good shepherd is preeminently Christ-like ; and
such a shepherd was Croswell. To this he devoted extraordinary
gifts, and sacrificed many worldly advantages. The refinement
and delicacy of his character are proverbial ; but not every one
imagines how rich were his mental endowments, how brilliant his
fancy, and how inventive his genius. His intellectual qualities were
rare, and his literary attainments — poor things to speak of, though
the world values them — were elevated in their range, and large in
scope. His critical skill, though rarely exercised, was happy, and
full of spirit ; and in epistolary composition I have never known
his superior. As a sacred poet, his name is dear to the Church,
and will always be affectionately cherished ; his verse vvas faultless,
his conceptions extremely felicitous and epigrammatic, and all his
productions were warm with devout and heavenly aspirations. In
him there has lived, in Boston, a man of genius worthy to be re-

1852.] THE COMMEMORATION. 527
membered as a glory to her civic name, and one who, if he had
studied to please her in her own way, might, indeed, have been her
idol. But " his soul was like a star, and dwelt apart : " he could
not stoop to vulgar artifices, he could not pander to popular appe
tite ; and those things which were gain to him he counted loss for
Christ. To be a good pastor to Christ's flock, and a faithful
steward of his household ; to be a servant of Christ's poor ; this
was the aim to>which he subordinated those things in himself which
the world finds in so few, and worships so devotedly where they
are displayed. Holy man of God, my dear departed friend and
brother, there are those, nevertheless, who know how rich and
precious were the gifts thou didst consecrate to Christ ! Happy
in thy noble choice, and sublime in thy humility, how refreshing is
the example of thy life ! and how harmonious, withal, the opportunity
of thy death ! In the spot to thee most dear and sacred, and in the
work most sweet, on the holy day and in the holy place, thiri hand
toward the altar, and the word of blessing on thy tongue, — so the
Master found thee, so called thee away ! Good soldier ! thy fight of
faith was fought, thy palm of victory was won ; " henceforth there is
laW up for thee a crown of righteousness, vvhich the Lord, the
righteous Judge, shall give thee at that day ! "
Reverend father in God, my reverend brethren, and you parish
ioners of the Church of the Advent, while he has been in paradise,
where they measure not joys by time, we have lived through another
year of this dull earth ; and here we are, where the Master called
him, drawn together by the consolations of Christ, in commemo
ration of his life and death ! Are we prepared to be called as
suddenly ? Are our lamps, like his, trimmed and burning ? In the
epistle * read this day at the eucharist, he seemed to give us a mes
sage ; and even " by it he being dead yet speaketh." If there is
aught else to be added by mortal tongue, amid associations so
solemn that the very wood and stone around us seem to have a
language, as relics of his life and labor, I will venture to say it is
this — Be ye also ready, for at such time as ye think not the Son of
man cometh.

* Epistle for the twenty-second Sunday after Trinity, read by the Rev. Dr.
Eaton.

528 MEMOIR OF WILLIAM CROSWELL. [1852.

A MONUMENT
was erected at the grave of the deceased, in the New Haven
cemetery, on the day of the commemoration. This monument is
eight feet in height, including the base, and is beautifully wrought
in pure white Italian marble,* bearing on the front the following
inscription : — REV. WILLIAM CROSWELL, D. D.,
rector of the
church of the advent, boston
DIED NOV. IS., MDCCCLI.,
AGED SLVir.
"FAITHFUL TWTO DEATH."

And on the reverse, —

TRIBUTE OF AFFECTION.

— in reference to the manner in which the expense of the erection
was provided for — the amount having been offered by an associa
tion of ladies among his friends and parishioners, upon the altar
of the Church of the Advent, on the anniversary of his death.
* The plan of this monument was drawn, and the work executed, by Mr.
Thomas Phillips, of New Haven.

Almighty God, with whom do live the spieits of
those who depart hence in the lobd, and with whom
the souls of the faithful, afteb they are delivered
from the burden of the flesh, abe jn jtoy and felicity,
we give thee heaety thanks fob the good examples
of all those thy servants, who, having finished their
COURSE IK FAITH, DO NOW BEST FEOM THEIR LABORS. And
we beseech thee, that we, with all those who abe
departed in the tbue faith of thy holy name, may
have oue peefect consummation ^jjd bliss, both em
body and soul, in thy eteenal and eveelasting gloey,
through Jesus Cheist oue Lord. Amen. [Burial Office.]
67

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