Memoir. (continued 2)

Toward our own bishop we were strictly obedient. His violent antipathy to Rome and strong Anglican party spirit, joined with a timid, politic course of action toward the Low Church, ultra-Protestant party, prevented our giving him full and unreserved confidence. Mr. Baker had seldom the occasion of conversing much with him. I was, however, constantly in his family, and very much in his society. I confided in him as a man of integrity, a sincere and generous friend, and a just and kind superior. But, from the first, there was a barrier which I had not expected to full and unreserved confidence, and a feeling that there was a secret and fundamental difference in our apprehension of the ideas which are contained in the forms of Catholic language. I have since discovered what this difference was, and I see now that he really believed in an invisible, ideal Catholic Church only, and in no other outward, visible unity, except that which is completed in a single bishop and congregation. This explains a remark made at that time by my father, who is thoroughly acquainted with the Protestant theology, on one of the bishop's essays; that, except his doctrine of three orders in the ministry, he was a pure Congregationalist. Mr. Newman, also, held the same view, until quite a late period in his Anglican life, as appears from his "Apologia." In Bishop Whittingham's own eyes, he was himself the equivalent of the whole Catholic episcopate. Consequently, what he and his colleagues and predecessors in the Anglican Church had decreed had full Catholic authority, and was just as final and authoritative as if the whole world had taken part in it. Hence the assertion of a despotic, exclusive authority of the Anglican Church, concentrated in his person, over everyone who acknowledged his jurisdiction. He would not permit us to attend any Catholic services, or read any Catholic books, as an ordinary thing. I read the tract of Natalis Alexander on the Eucharist, and the Life of St. Francis of Sales, in his library, before he made his prohibition. Afterward, he gave me himself a volume of Tirinus's Commentary on the Holy Scriptures; and these were the only Catholic books I read while I was in his family. I was very anxious to read Möhler's "Symbolism," but I did not; nor did I read Ward's "Ideal of a Christian Church;" because he desired me not to do so. I even gave up using approved Anglican books of devotion in church, because he expressed his disapprobation of using any other book but the "Common Prayer." Mr. Baker was equally obedient with myself at that time; although afterward, when he was governed more by common-sense and a just sentiment of his own rights, he read whatever he thought proper. It was Anglican books which brought us onward toward the Catholic Church, and the attempt to live up to and carry out Anglo-Catholic principles. Those who are familiar with the Anglo-Catholic movement will understand at once what these principles and doctrines were. But for the information of others it may be proper to state them distinctly, as they were understood by Mr. Baker, and others like him, who approximated more or less toward the Catholic Church, whether they eventually joined her communion or not:

1. The visible unity of the Catholic Church. 2. The final authority of the Church in deciding doctrine, and the authority of General Councils. 3. The necessity of an Apostolic Succession, and the divine institution of the episcopate. 4. Baptismal Regeneration and Sacramental Grace. 5. The strictly sacerdotal character of the priesthood, including the power of consecrating, and of absolution. 6. The Real Presence in the Eucharist. 7. The sacrificial character of the Eucharist. 8. The propriety of praying for the dead. 9. The merit of voluntary chastity, poverty, and obedience, and of penitential works. 10. The value of ceremonies in religion, and the sanctity of holy places and holy things.

However certain persons may modify and explain certain of these doctrines, no one can deny that the general drift of the writings of the Oxford or Anglo-Catholic school, together with that of the writings of the ancient Fathers and of the earlier English divines which are translated or republished by them, was to create and strengthen a belief in these doctrines. They were allowed to be tenable without infidelity to the Anglican Church, by persons in authority and others, who were themselves lower and more Protestant in their opinions. Now, I will take for a moment the position of an Anglo-Catholic, and, upon the basis of the principles I have just enunciated, I will prove that an attitude of hostility to the Roman Church is wrong and absurd, and that the only consistent and tenable ground is that now taken by the Unionists, represented by the Union Review.

"The Latin, Greek, and Anglican branches of the Catholic Church constitute but One Visible Church, though their unity is impaired and in part interrupted by mutual estrangement. As a member of the Anglican Church, I look upon the Greek Church as essentially sound and orthodox, and, if allowed to do so, would wish to receive the sacraments, or, if a clergyman, to officiate as such, in the churches of that Rite, if I happened to be in a place where it was established. I look upon the Latin Church, whose doctrine is the same with that of the Greek Church, with the single exception of the Papal Supremacy, in precisely the same light. Whatever I may think of the extent of power claimed by the Bishop of Rome, I must allow that, in a state of perfect intercommunion between all parts of the Church, the chief place in the Catholic hierarchy and the right of presidency in a general council belong to him. It is most desirable that the Greek and Anglican Churches should be restored again to communion with the Roman Church, and all controversies respecting doctrine be definitely settled. Meanwhile, the spirit of charity ought to be cultivated, and all possible means taken to remove prejudice and misunderstanding. In the present state of confusion and irregularity, the ancient canons respecting one bishop in a city cannot be considered as binding; and therefore Roman, Greek, and Anglican congregations, formed under the authority of bishops who are in regular communion with their own branch, are equally legitimate and Catholic, wherever they may be. The decisions of the particular national synods of the Anglican branch have no final authority, and are only binding so far as they declare the doctrines of the Universal Church. They are to be interpreted in the 'Catholic sense,' and are strictly obligatory only on those who have made a promise to maintain them, and upon those only in the sense in which they are imposed by authority, under censure. It is the Catholic Church, and not the Church of England or the Protestant Episcopal Church of the United States, of which I am a member by baptism, and therefore I have no duties to either of those ecclesiastical organizations, except such as arise out of their relation to the great Catholic body, and are compatible with the absolute allegiance I owe to its teaching and law's."

Such I conceive to be a statement of the only view an Anglican can consistently take, unless he plants himself upon the common Protestant ground. According to this, it is ridiculous for him to abstain from going to Catholic services, reading Catholic books, and cultivating the acquaintance of Catholic clergymen and lay-people. The pretence of deposing or degrading clergymen, because they pass to the communion of Rome, is an absurd and impotent attempt at retaliation. What sin can there be in going from St. Paul's Church, where the Mass is in English, celebrated by a priest of the Anglican Rite, under the obedience of the Catholic Bishop Whittingham, to the Cathedral, where the Mass is in Latin, celebrated by a priest of the Latin Rite, under the obedience of the Catholic Archbishop Spalding? How can there be the guilt of apostasy involved in such an act? How can a person "abjure the Catholic Communion" at Rome, by joining that which is confessedly the principal branch of the Catholic Church?

A person who believes in this theory of branches may say it is inexpedient and unwise for individuals to leave their particular connection, that it perpetuates the estrangement, and that it is better to wait for the time when the "English Branch" will be reunited bodily to the parent tree. They cannot pretend, however, that this is any thing more than a matter of private opinion. The only legitimate means they have for keeping their adherents from leaving them are argument and persuasion. It avails nothing to say that if free access to Roman Catholic services and books, and, in general, free intercourse with us is permitted, and the charge of schism, violation of baptismal or ordination obligations, &c., is abandoned, we shall gain over a great number of their members. What of that? Those who adopt a theory are bound to adhere to it. If this Anglo-Catholic theory has any thing in it, it ought to be able to sustain the shock of a collision. We have nothing but argument and persuasion on our side. Why should their influence be dreaded? If Catholic principles, sympathies, and practices gravitate toward Rome, let them gravitate; it is a sign that the centre of gravity is there. That the Oxford movement did gravitate toward Rome by its original force is a plain fact, proved by the number, the character, and the acts of those who have become converts to the Catholic Church. Not that their testimony is a direct proof that the Catholic Church is divine and infallible. This rests on extrinsic, objective evidence. But it is a direct proof that the pretence of the Catholicity of the Anglican communion cannot furnish full and complete satisfaction to conscientious minds that have imbibed Catholic principles. It professed to do so; but it has failed. Those who still cling to it cannot deny that the dissemination of their views generally produces in those who embrace them, at some period of their mental history, a deep misgiving respecting the safety of their position. This is not so in the Catholic Church. Catholics, who retain a firm faith in the principles of Catholicity, and endeavor to obey their consciences, never have a misgiving that they are out of the Church, or that there is any other church which has a better claim to be regarded as the Catholic Church. If human reason has any certitude, if the human mind is governed by any fixed laws, if the concurrent judgments and convictions of great numbers of the wisest and best men have any value, if there is any such thing as logic, these considerations ought to have weight.

But I am weary of chasing this Protean phantom of Anglo-Catholicism through its shifting disguises, and its labyrinthine mazes. And I gladly return to the theme of my narrative.

Francis Baker was ordained deacon on the 16th of February, 1845, and in the following August was appointed assistant minister of St. Paul's Church. During the interval he was performing occasional duty in assisting the rectors of different parishes in Baltimore, under the bishop's direction. His first sermon was preached in St. Paul's Church, Baltimore, on the Sunday afternoon of his ordination day, which was the Second Sunday of Lent. On the evening of the same day he preached at St. Peter's. His text was taken from the I. Epist. John, iv. 4: "And this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith." It was a beautiful sermon, and perfectly Catholic in its doctrine and tone. I regret that it is not extant, for I think that if it were, it would be worthy of a place among the sermons published in this volume. In it he extolled a life of virginity in glowing language, as the means of a closer union with Christ; and its whole scope was to present the lives of those who have renounced the world, as models of the highest Christian perfection. I read prayers for him that evening, and we walked home afterward together. We separated in silence, neither of us expressing his thoughts, but both seeming to feel a kind of blank and unwilling sense of disappointment, as if dimly conscious that our Catholicity was an unreal and imaginary thing. At St. Paul's Church his eloquence took the congregation completely by surprise. His quiet, unassuming character had not prepared even his friends to expect that he would manifest so much power as a preacher. From this time his reputation was fixed at the highest point, and he always sustained it. There were several very excellent preachers in the Maryland Diocese, but I believe it was generally admitted that Mr. Baker surpassed them all, and the most intellectual and cultivated people ever looked upon his sermons as affording to their minds and hearts one of the choicest banquets they were capable of enjoying. I have never known a young clergyman to be more generally and warmly admired and loved than Mr. Baker. Nevertheless, applause and popularity did not affect him in the least, and the pure mirror of his soul was never tarnished by vanity and self-complacency. Even then, his spontaneous desires and longings seemed to forecast the apostolic vocation which was in store for him. He had an ardent desire for a religious life, and was especially attracted by the character and life of Nicholas Ferrar, and by the history of the little religious community which he formed at Little-Gidding. In our walks we often conversed about the practicability of establishing a religious house which would give us the opportunity of working among the neglected masses of the people, and looked about for some suitable building for this purpose. There was a scheme talked of for establishing a monastic and missionary institute on the eastern shore of Maryland, and there were eight or ten clergymen who would have been eager to join in the enterprise if the bishop had been courageous enough to begin it. But the fear of Low Churchmen prevailed, and nothing was ever done. We very soon found that the work of "Catholicizing" the Episcopal Church in Maryland got on very slowly and miserably, through the open opposition of the Low Church party, and the dead, inert resistance of the old High Church. At an early period of Bishop Whittingham's administration, the Rev. Henry V. D. Johns, rector of Christ Church, bade him open defiance, and preserved that attitude until his death, many years afterward. The bishop preached and published two remarkably learned and able sermons on the priesthood, one of which was preached at the institution of Mr. Johns. At the close of it he exhorted the parishioners to receive their new rector as their divinely-appointed teacher, and to submit to his instructions with docility. The same night, Mr. Johns preached a sermon which contained a violent attack on the bishop's doctrine, and made a solemn declaration, sanctioned by an appeal to Heaven, that he would evermore oppose that doctrine, and preach the contrary in his pulpit. This was the signal for hostilities, and a sharp controversy arose out of the affair, which was renewed from time to time, as occasion offered. The bishop made one or two more efforts to bring out his Reformed Catholicism in sermons or charges, and then desisted, seeming to be more anxious to defend himself against the charge of Popery than to attack Protestantism. In regard to the outward ceremonial of religion, the efforts made to improve it were equally feeble and abortive. There was a miserable little church in an obscure street, called St. Stephen's, with an altar something like a marble-topped wash-stand, and some curtains covered with roughly-executed symbols, such as mitres, chalices, keys, etc., where we played a little at Catholics with so much success that a good old lady said it was worse than the Cathedral. The opposition which was excited by these innocent and absurd little ecclesiological essays were such that the parish was nearly ruined, and the rector in great alarm speedily banished all innovations, and brought his chancel and his windows back to the old-fashioned style. There was a little preaching in the surplice, a little display of crosses, and a great deal of Catholic talk in private circles, and very little else. The attempt to make the Protestant Episcopal Church in Maryland exhibit herself as the Reformed Catholic Church was a most signal failure. The True Catholic labored faithfully to defend Mr. Newman from the charge of Romanizing until he actually joined the Catholic Church, and then took to decrying him and other converts as much as possible. It then took up Archdeacon Manning, H. W. Wilberforce, and Marshall, loading its pages with extracts from their writings, until all these gentlemen followed Mr. Newman's example. What it did afterward, and whether it has survived until the present time or not, I do not know. The cassocks were silently and gradually dropped. Some of the young clergymen married, and took to walking sedately in the old paths, and others left the diocese. The few who could not unlearn or forget the Catholic principles they had imbibed, retired into themselves and kept quiet. And thus matters went back to their old condition of a sort of uneasy compromise between High and Low Church, on the basis of a common hostility to Rome.

I remember well the startling effect produced by the news of Mr. Newman's conversion. Whatever his modesty may induce him to say in disclaimer, he was the leader, the life, and the soul, of the Oxford movement: his genius and character had acquired for him in this country, as well as in England, a sway over a multitude of minds such as is seldom possessed by any living man. The news of his conversion was brought to Baltimore by Bishop Reynolds, of Charleston, who had just arrived from Europe. I heard it from Bishop Whittingham, one evening, after I had been to prayers in St. Paul's. I passed him on the steps and went out, and heard him say in a sorrowful tone, "Newman has gone." It went to my heart as if I had heard of my father's death. I did not wish to speak with anyone on the subject, for, although I was not prepared to follow him, yet I could not speak harshly or lightly of the decision of a man whose wisdom and goodness I venerated so highly, or endure to hear the comments of others. Mr. Baker and I had no opportunity to converse together very much on this matter, or indeed on any other. Our separation was at hand, under circumstances painful and trying to both. He was confined to the chamber of his brother Alfred, who was dangerously ill with the varioloid, and, of course, could neither make or receive any visits. I was obliged to leave Baltimore a few days after, for North Carolina, by the order of my physician. I took a hurried farewell of Mr. Baker, at the door of his house, with very little expectation, on either side, of ever meeting again. He had assisted me very frequently in the duties of my little parish in the suburbs, during several months of declining health, and after my departure he continued to visit the congregation and preach for them occasionally. It was during the autumn of 1845 that I left Baltimore. At the close of the Holy Week of 1846 I was received into the Catholic Church, at Charleston, S. C., and in March, 1847, I was ordained priest by the Right Rev. Dr. Reynolds, the bishop of the diocese.

Before leaving Edenton, N. C., where I resided during the previous winter, I wrote to Mr. Baker to inform him of my intention, and I continued to write to him occasionally, receiving letters from him in return, for some months afterward. The correspondence on his part soon became constrained and formal, and at last was stopped at his request. For the three years, immediately following my ordination, I saw or heard nothing of him. I continued to hope for his conversion, and often offered up the Holy Sacrifice for that intention. By degrees, however, the thought of him passed away from my mind, and I ceased to anticipate that the broken thread of our friendship would ever be re-united. I supposed that he had become permanently settled at some halting-place between Protestantism and the Catholic Church, and would live and die contentedly in his chosen position as an Episcopalian clergyman, forgetting his earlier and nobler aspirations as among the dreams of youth. For the history of his mind during this period, I am indebted to the letters which he continued to write to the bosom friend who has been already spoken of, and the information which that friend has given me personally. I am also indebted to the same source, chiefly, for the history of his progress toward Catholicity, during the entire period of seven years which elapsed before his reception into the Catholic Church. For, although I saw him repeatedly during the last three years of this period, he was extremely guarded and reserved in his language; and during our common life together, as Catholics, afterward, I never asked him for any detailed account—the subject having, in great measure, lost its interest for us both.

I have reason to believe that at the time of my conversion he had his misgivings, and indeed his first letters to me showed a disposition on his part to enter into a free discussion of the matter with me. He soon quieted these misgivings, however, and determined to throw himself heart and soul into the work of realizing Catholicity in his own Church. He even underwent a reaction which awoke a feeling of hostility to the Roman Church, and of anger against me, for having, as he expressed it, "spoiled their plans." His good and true friend of past days, who had continually encouraged and urged him on from the first to follow boldly in the footsteps of those who led the advance of the Oxford movement, would not, however, permit him to rest in this state. He was determined himself not to shut his eyes to the difficulties and perplexities of his position, and he would not allow his friend to do it. He never ceased to unbosom freely all his own doubts and disquietudes, to communicate the results of his continual reading and reflection, and to stimulate his friend to push on in the study of Catholic principles and doctrines until he had reached a final and satisfactory result. Judging from the letters of Mr. Baker which I have before me, I should think that both his misgivings about his own position and his bitter feelings toward the Roman Church gave place to a quiet resolution of adhering to the position he had taken, before Mr. Newman's conversion and that of others of lesser note had startled his repose. For two or three years his letters do not indicate a disquieted mind, but are often full of hope for the prospects of the Anglican communion. By degrees a change is manifest, and it is easy to see the progress of a conviction slowly forcing itself upon him that the Episcopal Church is essentially Protestant, and all the efforts made to place her in a Catholic light and attitude a mere illusion. The workings of a mind and heart struggling with doubt and disquiet, weary of a hollow and unreal system, weaned from all worldly hopes, detaching itself from all earthly ties, and striving after the truth and after God, become more and more manifest, until at last, after seven long years, the result is reached. I have hesitated much before determining to insert a portion of these letters in this narrative. Certain motives of delicacy toward my departed friend and others would incline me to withhold them. But their perusal has seemed to me to exhibit so much more clearly than any narrative of mine could do, the transparent purity of the heart from which they emanated, and the wonderful workings of divine grace upon it, that I have judged it best to prefer the profit of those who will read this book to private feeling. Some of them, which are merely descriptive, I have inserted, because there could be no reason for withholding them, and they will give pleasure to the friends of the writer, who value every thing which came from his pen. In regard to others, which were private and confidential, I have used the utmost caution to select only those portions which are necessary to a full exhibition of the writer's gradual progress to the Catholic Church.

I will first quote some extracts from the correspondence of an earlier period, which show the first blossoms of the later ripened fruit of Catholic faith and holiness in the pure and upright soul of Francis Baker.

From Francis A. Baker To Dwight E. Lyman. "Baltimore, February 20, 1843. "My Dear Dwight: * * * * * "Of course you have seen the letter 'Quare Impedit.' Is it not very caustic? I cannot but think it defective in the non-expression of what the writer doubtless believed, the sense in which the Council of Trent's words as to 'immolation' are true. It does not sufficiently bring out the true and unfigurative sense in which the sacrifice on the altar is the same with the sacrifice on the cross. * * * * * "As I go on with my studies, my dear Dwight, I become more and more attracted to them, and, I hope, more and more of a Catholic. Indeed, I seem to myself to live in a different world from that around me, and to be practical I find one of the most difficult attainments. But to be frank with you, in looking forward to the future, the situation of a parish priest seldom fills my mind. I almost always look to the monastic life in some of its modifications. It is true that on the score of fitness I have no right to look forward to such privileges; but from some circumstances which you will appreciate, my heart has been drawn more entirely from the world than most persons of my age. But the future belongs to God, and I must now prepare myself for the duties which seem pointed out to me. I have not spoken to anyone else of this long-cherished desire, and, indeed, there are at present insurmountable difficulties in the way; but I do not look upon it is as so visionary a scheme as I once did. * * * * * "Your brother told me of his intended repairs in his church. I am delighted to hear it. It will not be long, I hope, before such is the universal arrangement of our churches. Only one thing will be lacking (if he has a cross), the candlesticks. I have come to the conclusion that we have a perfect right to them, for they will come in by the Church common-law, as the surplice did. I do not suppose it would be proper for a priest to introduce them without his ordinary's sanction. I do wish a charge would come out recommending the Catholic usages. I don't give any weight to the cry of some about us, to wait for such things until Catholic doctrines are received. I cannot but think that such things would have a reflex influence on doctrine. While we are externally so identified with the Protestants, it will be hard to convince the world that we have any claims to antiquity or Catholicity. Pray use your influence to have a solid altar, and as large as may be." * * * * * "Baltimore, June 9, 1843. "It was a great disappointment to me not seeing you here at the Convention, and there has been going on here so much of interest to you. The Roman Council you have heard all about, I am sure. I was not present, of course, at any of their services or meetings, nor did I see any of their processions, but from all I have heard, and from what I have seen at other times, I think it must have been a most glorious spectacle. I do not think I am fond of pageantry, but it must have been heart-stirring to see the Church coming out of the sanctuary which she has in her own bosom, and going forth to take possession of the world in the name of her ascended Lord. Imagine a band of sixteen venerable bishops, with surpliced acolytes and vested priests, with their lights and cross and crosier, all chanting in murmuring responses some old processional chant; the effect of the whole heightened by the brightness of a May sun reflected from many a golden stole and glittering mitre! I am sure the sight would have set you crazy. Indeed, I feared myself that it would present an unfortunate contrast with our neat, dress-coat clergy. But our own Convention had far more of an ecclesiastical appearance this year than it ever had before. The daily matins at six o'clock, the Litany at nine, and the full Mass service at twelve, all seemed as if we were suddenly transplanted into some other age of the church, when she understood and realized her heavenly mission better than in these later days. Every day after the reading of the Gospel, all joined in a solemn profession of the old Nicene faith; then the Holy Sacrifice was offered, and all were allowed to partake of the Holy Mysteries." * * * * * "Baltimore, June 9, 1845. "When the ordination is appointed, if possible, I will let you know; and if you are disposed to treat me better than I did you, I should be truly glad to see you here on that occasion. At all events, my dear Dwight, do not forget to pray for me. I regret exceedingly that the advantage of the regular Ember season will be lost to me, for I feel in need of all the assistance which the united prayers of the Holy Church might be expected to procure. As soon after my ordination as may be, I wish to go to work in such a department as may be assigned me by the will of God and the direction of the bishop. I wish not 'to choose my way,' but as far as possible to submit to the direction of others, my superiors; for that I believe to be the very secret of ministerial influence. In my case, however, there can hardly be any trial of virtue in this course, for with such a bishop as God has placed over us, submission is no sacrifice. I have deliberately resolved to maintain a single life, and acquainted the bishop with my determination. I think he approved of my resolution, though he dissuaded me from taking a vow to that effect. Although I acquiesced in his advice, yet I shall consider myself from the date of my ordination pledged to preserve that state, by the grace of God. All this is strictly between ourselves, for I abhor to talk about such things. I consider this a matter, in our Church at least, of strictly individual choice, and while I have no hesitation myself in adopting the course I have mentioned, I should despise myself and think but poorly of my own motives, if I should ever think less of another for exercising differently his Christian liberty." * * * * *

The foregoing extracts are taken from letters written before the time of my leaving Baltimore, and of course, therefore, before the thought of joining the Catholic Church had entered any of our minds. Those which follow were written at various times during the period of seven years, between 1846 and 1853, which was the period of transition in Mr. Baker's mind, ending in his conversion.

"Baltimore, July 9, 1846. "Every thing has been remarkably quiet in Baltimore for the last month. There seems to be nothing of the excitement that for a while prevailed on the subject of 'Roman tendencies' and 'perversions.' I know not whether the 'Few Thoughts' of Mr. H., which is just published here, and which I suppose you have seen, will awaken controversy; but should suppose not, from the occasion and nature of the publication, it being merely an explanation of his own course, and written immediately on the determination to take that course. I have heard the pamphlet spoken of as 'a weak production,' as 'doing Mr. H. no credit.' Are we not too apt to speak so of the work of an opponent? Of course the essay is not a learned and systematic argument, nor does it profess to be so; but it is (as it appears to me) honest, to the point, and well expressed. I speak this of the production: as an argument, it of course resolves into the great Roman plea of Visible Unity.

"I understand that a Mr. ——, a presbyter of our Church, and alumnus of the General Theological Seminary, made his public abjuration of Protestantism in St. Mary's Chapel, on Sunday last. I suppose you have seen the account of ——'s defection. I was told, a few days ago, that —— has made up his mind to 'go;' but as it was a Roman Catholic who told me, I did not know but he might be misled. Do you know any thing about it? I received, a few days ago, a letter from H. It was merely a friendly letter, without controversy, describing his mode of life, written very cheerfully and kindly. It will give me pleasure to show it to you when you come to Baltimore to see me, to which visit I look forward with great pleasure. We will then talk about all these strange events and times, and on our thoughts and feelings concerning them. Adieu, adieu, my dear friend. Let us keep close to each other; but first, close to God, and in all things obedient to His will. Again adieu, my dear, good friend."

It is easy for one who knew intimately the writer of this letter to see that his heart was sad and disquieted when he wrote it, although he does not directly say so; especially from the unusual warmth and tenderness of his expressions of attachment to his friend. About two months after he wrote it, the time came for him to pass his examination for priest's orders. The circumstances under which his examination took place redoubled this disquiet, and caused him to hesitate much about receiving ordination. In the course of his examination, he was asked if he accepted the Thirty-nine Articles. It appears that he was not able to accept the reasoning of Tract No. 90, upon which he must have gone at his ordination to the diaconate, and accordingly he replied boldly that he rejected some of the Articles, and could not in any way give his assent to them. I do not know how many of them he qualified in this way; but I know that one of them was the thirty-first, as to its second section: "Wherefore, the Sacrifices of Masses, in the which it was commonly said that the priest did offer Christ for the quick and the dead, to have remission of pain and guilt, were blasphemous fables and dangerous deceits;" and I think, that, another was the twenty-second: "Of Purgatory," etc. A discussion arose among his examiners upon the propriety of passing him. The bishop endeavored to waive the whole question, and succeeded in preventing his rejection. The rector of St. Peter's, who was the chairman of the committee, and whose duty it was to present the candidates, declined, however, to present Mr. Baker, though, with a singular inconsistency, he privately urged him to be ordained. Mr. Baker almost resolved to stop where he was, and regretted afterward that he had not done so. He suffered himself, however, to be overruled by the authority and persuasion of the bishop, and as Dr. Wyatt also excused himself from taking the responsibility of presenting him, he was presented by another presbyter, and ordained on the 20th of September, 1846. His health as well as his spirits were impaired by these troubles; and, therefore, a short time afterward he made a trip to the North, in order to recreate both body and mind, and with the hope of driving away, by change of scene, the unpleasant thoughts which haunted him. In this he was in a measure successful. He appears to have made a resolute determination to throw himself into his ministry, and to put away all doubt from his mind. He went in search of all that was attractive and encouraging in his own communion, and his letter, giving an account of his trip, shows that his attachment to it was deepened and renewed by the impression made on him by the beautiful churches, the tasteful and decorous services, and the agreeable, intellectual men of congenial spirit with himself, described by him in such a pleasing style. It was after this journey that he wrote to me, expressing a firm determination to adhere to his chosen position, assigning for his chief reason the "signs of life" which he saw in the Episcopal Church; and he soon after, as I have said, dropped his correspondence with me, as one separated from him by a barrier which was never to be passed over.

"Baltimore, November 10, 1846. "I enjoyed my visit to the North quite as much as your or my own expectations promised. I think the jaunt was in every way beneficial to me. I spent a week delightfully in New York, where a new world, as it were, of churches was opened to me, and had a most happy (what I call) heart visit to Troy. But you will expect to hear particulars. To commence with the commencement, then, what shall I say of Trinity Church? In some respects it is far beyond my conceptions. The first impression was really overpowering. It was on Saturday morning, and but for a few minutes, and it seemed to me that both externally and internally the building was most majestic and beautiful. I next saw it on Sunday morning, to great advantage. It was communion day, and fourteen priests in their surplices were in attendance (the Convention having adjourned late the night before). The church was full, but very orderly—the music grave and fine—though I confess to you (pardon my ignorance and temerity) it was not exactly as I should have liked. It seemed to me to want impressiveness or expression. It was neither soothing, nor, to me, very grand. Dr. —— preached. I never saw the Holy Communion celebrated and administered in any church with so fine effect. The scene, when the choir was filled with the worshippers waiting for their turn to receive, was truly majestic. On that day I went away with a most agreeable impression. After I had been there, how ever, in the week, and especially as I became familiar with it, I was very conscious of the great defect and coldness of the chancel. The meanness of the altar is positively too bad; and the unmeaningness of the heavy altar-screen is curious. The window is not just up my taste; but I do not think so badly of it as some do. On the whole, I think there can be no doubt that the chancel is a failure; but the nave is very fine, and the doorway, the organ-gallery, the organ, the tower, and the side-porches most beautiful. On the afternoon of the Sunday, I went to Grace Church, listened to the music—exquisite of its kind—saw the images!!! looked at the church, and examined the stained windows. I cannot agree with you about this building. Certainly it has some beauties. The external appearance is very fine, and the single figure of our Blessed Lord, in the east window, beautiful; but I must say that the whole of the interior presented to me a look of finery, and an absence of solemnity, most unpleasant in the sanctuary. The windows were simply distressing. It will seem very Protestant after this to say it, but still it is true, that the church looked very like a Roman Catholic Church to me; perhaps it would be truer to say Romish, for it seemed to me in keeping with some things we call by this name. I was disappointed in Grace Church; for I went prepared to like it, from your representation, and from my confidence in your taste.

"Next in order of my seeing, but really, perhaps, first of all, is the Church of the Holy Communion. This is really a gem. I was there at evening prayer on a week-day, and I left with a grateful heart that it was granted me to worship there. I am not much of an architect, but the building seemed to me perfect. I at least had no fault to find with it. The services were read at the chancel rail. The canticles were chanted with the organ accompaniment. It was at once solemn and very beautiful. I said I had no fault to find. Perhaps that is too much. I do think there is an absence of warmth in the colors of the church, and of a certain grace and brightness about the chancel, which would be entirely obviated by substituting, instead of the present altar, a white or colored marble one of the same size, adorned with candlesticks and covered with a lace cloth. This, however, is to make it a perfect church for my eye, and I am not at all sure that I am right.

"I said Troy was the most agreeable place I had visited. You will not need to be told what it was which gave it this interest: the Church of the Holy Cross. Oh, how glorious that enterprise is! How perfectly devotional and elevating those services! I was made very, very happy by this visit. It seemed unearthly, and it seemed, too, a promise of better and holier days, a harbinger of returning glory to our depressed Church. Could you not introduce this service into the college. It is worth a very great effort. Nothing else can produce such an effect as the choral service. With the material you have, I should not think it would be impossible, and at nothing short of this ought you to stop. I formed a valuable acquaintance with, and had the pleasure of visiting all the clergy of the place, who are remarkably united, and who received me with Southern warmth and cordiality. I was at the Church of the Holy Cross as often as it was possible for me to be there, you may be sure, and left it at the last with real regret. I consider this visit alone fully repaid me for the journey." * * * * *

From this time there is not a trace of disquietude with his position to be observed in his correspondence, until 1849. Under date of February, 1847, he writes to his friend, who, as it appears from his own declarations, was the only intimate friend he had among his brother clergymen:

"I still write now and then to H., but there is such a restriction on the freedom of thought and expression in speaking to him, that I have but very little interest in the correspondence; indeed I think it hardly likely long to continue; but from you there is no need or wish on my part to conceal any thing. * * * * * I long to leave St. Paul's. I do not say this to anyone here, for nothing is gained of talking; but to you I say that I am obliged constantly to fall back on the reflection that, until some other way is opened, my duty lies here. It is not on account of any disagreeables in my position; but there are peculiar dangers and difficulties attending it, and I cannot help fearing constantly that my life is too easy and too soft to please God. Still I see not which way to move. I think I wish to submit myself entirely to the Divine Will. I hope it will not seem impertinent, dear Dwight, to express a hope that this coming Lent may be a season of strict discipline to us both. Oh, I need it! I cannot tell you how the sense of responsibility concerning the souls of others sometimes alarms me. I can say this to you, without hypocrisy, I trust. I need to be purged by penance very, very much, to be drawn away from pride and vain-glory, and slothfulness and self-will; these are my besetting sins; and to be stirred up to diligent study, to obedience, to humility, to labor, and to prayer. I pray that I may have the grace to fulfil the work which God has put in my heart to undertake this Lent, that He would draw me away from all things else, entirely to be united to Him. It would be a most pleasant thought that we were thus entering on this penitential season together."

The following extract from a letter of June 23, 1848, shows the interest which the writer still felt in Mr. Newman:—

"Is it not encouraging to see the stir that has been raised in England about Dr. Hampden's nomination? The secular papers all call the opposition a 'Tractarian Movement.' If they mean by this that none but Tractarians are engaged in it, it is palpably false; but in another sense it is certainly true. I see clearly in the whole matter the fruits of that movement, the greater earnestness and zeal for orthodoxy, as such, so different from what would have been exhibited a quarter of a century ago. And whom are we to thank for fixing the brand of heterodoxy upon this man; so that he cannot pass off his sophisms upon an unwary Church, but the great master to worn we once looked up, to whom God gave so clear a vision of the truth and so great a zeal to uphold it? This is the fruit of a seed sown by a hand now raised up against us, one of the many gifts by which we keep him and his great faculties in remembrance, though, alas! 'we now see him no more.'"

In one of these letters Mr. Baker speaks of his desire to leave St. Paul's Church for some other field of labor. Nevertheless, he remained there six years out of the eight years of his Protestant ministry. In 1848 he received an invitation to the Church of St. James the Less, a very beautiful and costly, though small church, in the suburbs of Philadelphia, built after the style of the English Benedictine abbey-churches, and fitted up after the manner which delights the Anglo-Catholic heart. This invitation he declined, at the request of his bishop, who was naturally loth to part with him. A proposal was then made that he should found a new parish; and this, I suppose, was the plan afterward carried out at St. Luke's. This plan was postponed from time to time on account of the precarious health of Alfred Baker. Meanwhile, he devoted himself most assiduously to his private religious exercises and to his ministerial labors. I have never known a young clergyman more universally and warmly loved and admired than he was among the people of his communion. He improved sedulously his admirable gifts for preaching, and in a diocese containing a number of excellent preachers, he attained and kept the first rank. His fastidious taste and sense of propriety led him soon to drop the long cassock, and every thing else in outward dress and demeanor which had appeared singular in the first years of his ministry. He avoided controversy and all peculiarities of doctrine in his sermons, and confined himself chiefly to those truths of religion and those practical points which could be received without question by his hearers. Aside from the pastoral intercourse which he had with his people, his life was very retired. He had the ideal of the Catholic priesthood always in view, and this encompassed his discharge of ministerial duties with many practical difficulties. He felt this particularly, as he has often said, in his visits to the sick and dying, on account of the want of the proper sacraments, and the want of a real and recognized sacerdotal relation. He could not help feeling always that while theoretically he regarded himself as a Catholic priest, in point of fact he was but a Protestant minister, compelled to fall back on a system of subjective pietism, based on Lutheran doctrine, to which he had an invincible repugnance, and in which his hands were tied.

Meanwhile events were progressing in the English Church and producing their reflex action in this country. On the one hand, the Oxford movement was still going forward under new leaders, and on the other, the Protestant character of the Anglican Establishment and its American colony was exhibiting itself every day more and more decisively. The first great wave that had rolled toward Catholicity had cast up those who were foremost on its crest on the Rock of Peter. Another wave was rolling forward in the same direction, which was destined to bear on its summit still more of those who floated on the great sea of doubt and error to the same secure refuge. The first converts were given up to obloquy, and their influence in every possible way lowered or destroyed, by belittling their character, if that was possible, or, if not, by inventing specious reasons to show that the course they had taken was the result of some personal idiosyncrasy, and not the just consequence of their Catholic principles. It was stoutly asserted that the movement was not responsible for them, and that it did not of itself lead to Rome. It began again afresh with new men, new books, new projects. Again there was an advanced party; and in due time this advanced party began to move Romeward, denying as before that it would ever actually arrive at Rome. Nevertheless, many of its members, some of very high character and position, did eventually follow the earlier converts over to the Catholic Church. Others, especially those who were in stations of dignity and authority, began to recoil and retract, and call back their followers to the safer ground of the old High Church. In this country there was a sad lack of earnestness and reality on the part of the majority of those who had yielded themselves to Oxford influences, and these influences were but faintly felt by the laity. Mr. Baker was, however, deeply and sadly in earnest. He had schooled himself into submission to his soi-disant Church and bishop, and resolutely determined to believe that he could think, act, and live up to Catholic doctrines and laws where he was. He had thrown himself anew into Anglicanism, putting faith in its new leaders and the old ones who remained, and confiding in the reality and success of their efforts. Long and wearily he struggled to hold out in this course, in spite of the daily increasing evidence that it was delusive and hopeless. For long years he was tossed backward and forward on the waves of doubt and uncertainty, sometimes almost gaining a foothold on the Rock, and then dashed again backward into the sea.

Most persons, whether they are Catholics or Protestants, will wonder that Mr. Baker, having approached at first, by almost a single bound, so near the very threshold of the Catholic Church, should have waited and hesitated so long before taking the final step over its border. Those who have not felt it can hardly understand the strong spell by which the system so ably advocated by the Oxford divines captivated many minds. To those who were deeply imbued with certain Catholic prepossessions, and yet not emancipated from the old hereditary prejudice against the Roman Church, it offered a compromise which allowed them to cherish their prepossessions and yet remain in the reformed Church, where they were at home and among their friends, and free to select some and reject other Catholic doctrines and usages, according to their own private judgment and taste. It pretended to give them "a Catholicity more Catholic, and an antiquity more ancient" than those of the ancient, universal mother and mistress of churches herself. Once seduced by this specious pretence, there was no end to the ingenious arguments, wire-drawn distinctions, fine-spun theories, and plausible special pleading by which they were detained under its influence. The theory has infinite variations, and a flexibility which accommodates itself to every form of doctrine, from the lowest tolerated in the Episcopal ministry to the highest advocated in the Union Review. This influence on the mind and conscience is a very injurious one, and tends to disable them from reasoning and deciding, in a plain and direct manner, on broad and general principles. Mr. Baker became aware of this afterward, and regretted that he had permitted himself to be swayed so much by the authority of others instead of following the dictates of his own judgment and conscience. It is impossible for me to say whether he was dilatory in following the inspirations of divine grace or not. No one but God can certainly judge how much time is necessary in any individual case for the full maturing of the convictions into a distinct and undoubting faith. One thing I can assert, however, with confidence, and I believe that every one who reads the ensuing extracts from Mr. Baker's letters will share the same conviction: that he never deliberately quenched the light of the Divine Spirit, or refused to follow it from any worldly and unworthy motives. He sought for wisdom by study, prayer, and a pure life, and although he was slow in arriving at a full determination, yet he made a continual progress toward it; and when he reached it, he did not shrink from any sacrifice which obedience to God and his conscience required of him.

In a letter under the date of June 4, 1849, after speaking of the probability of his leaving St. Paul's, and the uncertainty he was in in regard to his future plans, which were interfered with by the ill-health of his brother, he thus writes:

"I missed you at the Convention; indeed, there are several reasons why I did not enjoy myself at that time. It seemed to me that there were but one or two with whom I had any real sympathy. There was very little done. The bishop could not be present on account of indisposition. K. read the bishop's charge. It was able, but thoroughly and strongly Protestant. The position it took was perfectly unequivocal; and it places certain people, whose position before was sufficiently uncomfortable, in a most painful predicament. He shuts us up to the very sense of the Articles and Prayer-Book, as understood by the Reformers; and tells those who cannot submit to this, who are willing not to contradict that sense, but do not believe it, he tells them very plainly that they are obliged to leave a ministry for which they are no longer competent. The charge convinces me either that we have heretofore misunderstood the bishop, or that he has fixed himself upon a new platform. He now makes the Protestant element in our Church's teaching (which is certainly the most prominent one in her history) the most authoritative and controlling. It appears to me that he might as well have said at once that the Church of England was founded at the Reformation. May God teach us what we ought to do."

I have been told by Mr. Baker that the bishop, on some occasion, sent him his charge to look over, with the request that he would read it for him at the Convention, and that he declined reading it, on account of his strong objection to the doctrine it contained. I suppose that this must have been the charge in question. I find no other letter from this date until January 9, 1850, under which date he writes at length, and begins to unbosom himself more freely than he had done before:

"There was something in your last letter which was particularly refreshing to me. It seemed like old times, and brought an assurance of sympathy when I had begun deeply to feel the want of it. You say that my letter was not so full or like myself as some others. There was a reason why it was not so, and the same reason has delayed the answer to your last kind favor. I have had many painful and distressing thoughts, which I hardly knew how to express to any one; and it seemed a wrong and cruelty to grieve one's friends when every catholic-minded brother had so much to bear on his own account. Now that I have decided upon the course I will take, I can write more calmly, and with less risk of perplexing others. You will guess the cause of anxiety. My conviction of the truth and holiness of Catholic doctrines has not diminished since I saw you; my apprehension of what I hold is firmer and more distinct; my prejudice against some things which the Roman Church holds as catholic truths, but which we deny, has been shaken; and while this was enough to make my present position in some respects uncomfortable, the longing for a fuller measure of catholic privileges, the want of sympathy, the uncertainty, dissension, and mutability among us, and the awful greatness of the claims and promises of Rome, made me willing to entertain the thought of changing my ecclesiastical relations. On looking back upon this state of feeling, there was much that was wrong. I felt in many ways the results of past unfaithfulness; I was confused and perplexed; I was doubtful of my own sincerity. Sometimes every thing seemed uncertain to me. But whatever were the causes, and whatever the characteristics of my state of mind, I felt, upon a careful examination of myself that the only proper course for me to pursue was to institute a candid and diligent search into the claims of the Roman Church to be the Holy Catholic Church. All her claims seem to resolve themselves into that of the supremacy of the See of St. Peter, and I accordingly resolved to confine my investigations to that point. I communicated my determination to the bishop last week, and asked him whether I could continue to officiate while I was engaged in such a course. He thought I could and ought, and offered me every assistance in his power, in the way of books, advice, etc. He was wonderfully kind and forbearing, but firm in assuring me that investigation of the point would but end in conviction of the untenableness of the Roman claim. I have felt calmer since I acted thus, and propose to enter forthwith upon the study of this question, keeping it as clear as I can of exterior matters, and pushing it, if I may, to a decision. I need not, I know, ask of you the charity to continue your prayers for the Divine blessing and guidance to your perplexed friend."

"Tuesday Night. "You will understand, from what I have been telling you of the thoughts which have occupied my mind for some time past, how the various events in the Church during the last few months have affected me. With regard to ——'s departure, I confess it was the deepest grief to me, and, in connection with other circumstances, did much to distress and unsettle me. It is one of the most afflicting things about the present controversies, these separations between friend and friend, between master and disciple; yet I know that even this is to be borne meekly and obediently, if we cannot see it to be our imperative duty to follow those we have loved and lost; and now that I have undertaken in a rational way to satisfy myself on this point I can think more calmly of our isolation and bereavement. To return to more Protestant ground (I know that it does not suit unlearned people to say what they will do, but) I feel is impossible. My conviction of the truth of the system (in opposing and barking at which Protestantism has its life and occupation) continually increases; but I think I feel that if I could be persuaded that the Divine Will made it to be my duty to remain where I am, I could submit to all the difficulties and privations of our position uncomplainingly and even cheerfully.

"Bishop Ives's movement, so far as it was intended to introduce the general practice of auricular confession, had my unrestrained sympathy. How far he meant to go in asserting its necessity, I confess myself unable to determine; but anyhow, I think he went farther than Protestant Episcopalianism will bear him out in going. It was an infinite relief to me when he came out as boldly as he did; and now that he has presented the subject anew to the Church, I feel assured that the Church will be obliged to meet the question. I confess I do not feel very hopeful as to the issue of the controversy, for it seems to me that nothing short of a miracle could dispose the mass of our people to the practice of confession. The High Churchmen will be as opposed to it as the Low Churchmen. Maryland will kick as much as Ohio. But nous verrons."

Some time after the date of this letter, Mr. Baker made a voyage to Bermuda with his brother Alfred, who was now in a deep and hopeless decline. He returned some time in the early part of the ensuing summer. One day, either a little before or a little after this voyage, I accidentally met him as I was out walking. I had returned once more to Baltimore, and was making my novitiate at the House attached to St. Alphonsus' Church. It was now nearly five years since I had seen my former friend, and three since I had received any letters from him. I was startled and pleased at our unexpected rencontre, and at the light of friendship which I saw in his face and eyes; but the pain of being separated from him was renewed. Mr. Lyman came to see me, one day, during the spring of 1850; and was much more frank and cordial in his manner than Mr. Baker, who kept a close vail of reserve over his heart until the last. I inquired of him particularly about Mr. Baker, whether he had made any retrograde movement, &c. He replied that he had rather advanced, and had become more spiritual in his preaching, advised me to visit him, and on my objecting to this on the ground that a visit might be intrusive and unwelcome, assured me of the contrary. It was through his influence that some degree of intercourse was from this time re-established between Mr. Baker and myself. A subsequent letter of Mr. Baker speaks of his visiting me, and also describes his visit to Bermuda in the following terms. The letter is dated October 24, 1850:—

"On my return from Bermuda, I found your kind and interesting letter, and felt grateful to you for the friendship which you have now continued to me for several years. I am sorry not to have seen you when you were in Baltimore, and in fact that was the only regret I felt on account of my absence from home at the time of the Convention. The Convention itself I have ceased to look forward to with any pleasure. The truth is, it always saddens me to mingle at all with the clergy promiscuously. I feel that there is so little sympathy between us, that the sense of loneliness is forced upon me more distinctly than when I keep to myself altogether. But I do not mean to write gloomily to a friend with whom I communicate so seldom, and indeed I do not complain of the want of sympathy which I feel, or blame others for it. I know that the cause of it is in myself, and I acknowledge with gratitude the great degree of indulgence, kindness, and forbearance with which I have been universally treated.

"I have felt happier lately, though I do not know why I should, for I cannot say that I have gained a satisfactory position; and when I think of dying, anxious thoughts come across me; but I have been pursuing (as my occupation allows me) my investigations into the question of the supremacy, and I wish to abide by the result, without being swayed by feeling one way or another. I have read Newman's Discourses since I received your letter. They are like all that he writes, thoughtful, earnest, holy, and deeply impressive; but I think they differ from his Parochial Sermons in having the appearance of more excited feeling, and in being more affectionate in their tone. He seems to write under a pressing anxiety to influence those he addresses, and he opens his heart more than he did of old. I think this accounts in part for an objection which I have heard brought against them, that they are not so strictly logical. He seems to me possessed with that proselyting spirit which has always appeared to me to be so divine a token about the Church of Rome, as if the constant reflection of his mind was, 'What shall it profit a man if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?'

"I was deeply interested in the account of your visit to H. I too saw H., but only for a moment. We met on the road, and he stopped most kindly, and we had a minute's conversation. Of course there was nothing but commonplace. I know not how he felt, but I felt very sad.

"You may imagine that I have looked with no little interest at the progress of ecclesiastical affairs in England. The secessions lately have made a tremendous excitement—more so, I really think, than those in 1845, perhaps on account of the 'present distress.'

"I have not much of interest to tell you about Bermuda. You know it is an English colony, and I saw there for the first time the workings of the English Church. In every thing except the Morning and Evening Prayer, I think we have the advantage, particularly excepting the latter. The clergy I found a hard-working set of men, frank and cordial, and very much interested and well informed in matters relating to our Church. The churches are very plain, but have a quiet, grave, soothing air about them, the clergy mostly 'High Church,' but not after our sort, and the people seemed to me to be almost entirely devoid of a Church tone and spirit, though not irreligious. Dissent is very rife, and, I fancy, influences even members of the Church. They have a noble-hearted bishop, Bishop Field, austere, self-denying, devout, hard-working, and charitable, and by his assistance they are building a very handsome church on the island; but I found that he was not popular, that even his mode of life was objected to: he was called a Puseyite. I did not preach while I was there, but I assisted several of the clergy at the services, and once at the holy communion, in which I found the omission of 'the oblation' to have a most painful effect upon my feelings.

"I was very glad to get so full and gratifying account of your church. I do indeed congratulate you on its completion. I think you have done wonders, with so many difficulties, to succeed in so short a time, and I sincerely hope that you may find your zeal and labor repaid by an increase of your congregation, and of true devotion and earnestness among them. From your description of the church I thought it must be a very magnificent edifice, quite beyond York Minster and churches of that size; and to see so famous a building, and still more to see the kind, warm friend who ministers within it, would be so great a pleasure, that you must not be surprised if some old friends should some time make a pilgrimage there."

"January 27, 1851. "I often feel what a relief it would be to open one's heart, and to have the sympathy and counsel of a friend who can understand one's views and feelings. But it is impossible to do so by letter, because one shrinks from coolly writing down one's thoughts, which would be expressed without effort in the warmth and freedom of conversation. Since the receipt of your letter I saw H. I had determined not to seek him, but about the beginning of this month he called on me. He was kind, but the visit was not agreeable: it was awkward. I returned his visit last week, and enjoyed being in his society. I talked with him as guardedly as I could while using any degree of frankness and cordiality. I could not consent to postpone my visit to him, as I had reason to believe that his coming to see me was providential, to assist me in the matter in which I am laboring, viz., to ascertain the Catholic Church. I asked him several questions concerning the Papal supremacy, which he answered very readily and with great ability. He gave me some assistance in pursuing my inquiries, and I promised to see him again before long. I came away feeling better for having been with him, and with a heavy conviction on my mind how little share I had in the blessing of the pure in heart.

"I find very little time to study. The duties which devolve upon me take so much of my attention, that I could find it in my heart to throw them up, were I not advised otherwise by the bishop. Besides, I know that it is only by humility and obedience and fidelity that we can arrive at the truth. O Dwight! again I ask your prayers in my behalf, especially for earnestness in seeking the truth, to make the holy vow, 'I will not climb up into my bed, nor suffer my eyelids to take any rest, until' I have an obedient spirit to obey God's will, directly it is made known.

"The course of Church matters is to me increasingly unsatisfactory. The anti-Papal movement has placed the Church of England on decidedly worse ground, if indeed it has not bound her to that decision, on rejecting which her Catholicity seems to be suspended. I do think that, after all that has happened, for bishops and people to be crying up the royal supremacy looks like accepting that supremacy to the full extent to which it has lately been claimed. What did you think of Mr. Bennett's course? To say the truth, I was not satisfied with his letters, though I felt a sympathy with the man. Pray can you tell me what ground there is for the assertion that Archdeacon Manning and Mr. Dodsworth have resigned and are on their way to Jerusalem?" * * * * *

Some time after this, Mr. Baker was appointed rector of the new parish of St. Luke's, where he remained until he gave up the Protestant ministry, that is, for about two years. During his rectorship he removed to a pleasant residence near the site of the church, and employed himself in building a tasteful Gothic church, which he proposed to finish and decorate in accordance with his own idea of ecclesiastical propriety. It was only partially completed at the time he left it. His next letter to Mr. Lyman, who was now progressing rapidly toward the Catholic Church, and urging forward his slower footsteps, is dated

"Tuesday in Holy Week, April 15, 1851. "I read your letter with a great deal of emotion, and was prompted to sit down and say a word in reply immediately; but as I have gone to St. Luke's, there were some duties devolving upon me which took up my time more than is usual with me. You may be assured of my sympathy in much that you feel and express. I do think that the statements of Allies's book are of a kind which ought to make a profound impression upon us, and which ought to modify very much the feelings with which we have been taught to regard the Roman communion; and I do think honestly that our Church is at present in a miserable condition, and that no good can come of denying it. As you say, it becomes at such a time a very solemn question, in view of eternity, what we ought to do. My dear Dwight, I think I am sincere when I say that to me the way of duty seems to take pains and make such an investigation as I can into the question upon which the claim of authority rests, and to abide by the result: meanwhile to live in prayer and upon such catholic truth as we are permitted to hold, imploring God to take pity upon us, and to look upon his distracted people. H. recommended me a treatise on the supremacy by the brothers Ballerini, but I find that I do not read Latin with such facility as to reap the full benefit of the perusal of such a work at present. I have therefore taken up Kenrick on the Primacy. With regard to my duties as a minister, I have thought it right to be directed from without, and I was passive in accepting St. Luke's, which was strongly urged upon me. Surely we may hope that if we faithfully and devoutly, and in a spirit of humility and obedience, work with our intention constantly directed to God's glory and the salvation of souls, He will bless and guide us. It was a comfort to me to think you remembered me and my difficulties in your Lenten exercises, and I assure you that you have been constantly remembered by your perplexed friend. I feel afraid of myself and of my own heart—afraid of taking a wrong step, afraid on account of my past sins, afraid when I look forward to the judgment of our dear Lord; and you may be sure that I find prayer my greatest comfort, the belief in the intercession of our Blessed Mother and the saints in heaven, as well as in the value of the supplications of Christians on earth, a source of real strength. Pray for me, my dear friend, that I may be enabled sincerely to appeal to God and say that His Church is the first object of my heart, and that I may be diligent and studious and obedient to His grace and to conscience.

"I see the English papers constantly, and they are full of interest. We know not what is before us; these are heart-stirring times, and we can but adore the counsel of God by which we were born in them, and anxiously seek to take the right course amid so many perplexities. I have recently read Dr. Pusey's letter to the Bishop of London. It is a very able letter, and one calculated to rouse the feelings of the Catholic-minded men in England. I confess it made me feel more hopeful.

"If it is our duty to remain where we are, it is a noble thing to be called to labor amid so many discouragements, and, surrounded by temptations, to keep the Catholic Faith whole and inviolate! Every day I feel a stronger repugnance to Protestantism, and a determination by God's help to carry out my principles consistently; but with regard to the Roman Catholic Church, I do not see how intellectually it can dispense with the theory of development, and I feel a strong suspicion of that theory. I went to see H. again, but he was in New York, and will not be back until after Easter.

"I feel that I am in a difficult and dangerous situation, but I have the comfort of knowing that I have the advice of the bishop to do as I am doing; and if I can be sure of God's blessing, by watchfulness and strictness and faithfulness I may yet be happy. I have written confidentially, and all about myself, but you will forgive me. The bell rings for prayers. Good-by."

"August 4, 1851. "You will be anxious to know the impression made upon my mind by what I have been reading on the Roman Catholic question. On the whole, many difficulties that lay in the way have been removed, and the claims of the Roman See appear far more strongly supported by antiquity than I had ever dreamed of before. Kenrick's is, I think, a very strong book, although it has a very apologetic air; yet there was a great deal in it which seemed to me very forcible. But the book which made altogether the most decided impression on my mind was 'The Unity of the Episcopate.' The principle of unity was there unfolded in a way that was new to me, and which I think does away with a whole class of passages (and they the strongest) which are usually alleged against the Papacy. * * * * * "I find my greatest want to be the want of earnestness and a spiritual mind. My dear Dwight, this is not cant. I want you to pray that God would not take his Holy Spirit from me. I desire above all things to be a Catholic, and I am resolved by God's help not to give up the present investigation until I am satisfied about my duty, which at present I am not, but very, very much harassed and perplexed. May God in his good time grant us both to see clearly the way we ought to take. I saw H. a few weeks ago, and had a pleasant interview. He thinks it possible that he will leave Baltimore in September. I have sometimes felt lately as if a decision of the great question was not far off. Oh, that it may be a wise and true decision!"

A few weeks after writing this letter, Mr. Baker came very near making a decision to give up his ministry and place himself under the instruction of a Catholic priest. His conviction was not yet fully matured, or his doubts quite removed, and the wisest course would have been for him to have gone into a complete retirement for a while, in order to complete his studies, and allow his mind and conscience time to ripen into a decision. He communicated his state of mind to the bishop, and was so far overruled by him as to consent to wait a while longer, and postpone his decision. He informs his friend of all that took place at this crisis, in a long and deeply interesting letter of thirteen pages, from which I shall only make a few extracts. It is dated November 11, 1851, and is full of affection, of sadness, and of the tremulous breathings of a sensitive, delicate conscience, deeply troubled by anxiety and fear, almost ready to seek repose in the bosom of the Church, but driven back by doubt to struggle yet longer with adverse winds.

He says at the beginning of his letter:

"First let me thank you again for your expressions of kindness and affection. I assure you I thank you for them, and feel that they, together with the friendship which has lasted so long, give you a claim on my confidence and love. Nor have I been unmindful of the claim, for I have constantly thought of you, and often invoked God's aid in your behalf; and if I have not written often, it is because I am myself in great perplexity, and feel the responsibility which attaches to every word, uttered at a time like this, on subjects which concern the salvation of ourselves and others also. This was my feeling when I last wrote. I felt as if I wanted a little recollection before I could write as I wished on some points; and as I was then much occupied, I deferred writing fully until some other time. However, your letter to-day demands an immediate answer, and I proceed to give you an answer to your inquiries, and a faithful transcript of my feelings, and pray God that you may receive no injury from one who would do you good."

He states the result of his studies quite at length, summing it up in these words, which I quote as an accurate index of the degree of conviction he had at that time reached:

"The result of my thought and reading last summer was to strengthen my impression that the claims of the Roman Catholic Church on the obedience of all Christians are divine. I cannot say I felt perfectly assured."

After describing his interview with the bishop, and informing his friend that he had consented to wait, he says:

"I think I agreed to this from the fear of offending God, and from that alone. As to the frown of the world, I do not think it decided me, for I had looked the consequences of the act full in the face, and had accepted them. I was the more ready to wait, because I could not say I had no doubt of the propriety of secession."

The sequel of the letter and of its writer's history shows that this doubt was not a rational doubt, but a morbid irresolution and timidity of mind, which ought to have been disregarded. Consequently, in giving way to it, he simply fell back into a state in which he had just to go over again the same ground, and this discouraged and disheartened him, as he frankly acknowledges.

"I felt a sense of relief, partly, I believe, from having opened my mind, and partly, I suspect, at finding that the sacrifice to which I had looked forward was not then demanded. But when I considered the matter, I saw that I was just where I was before, with the whole question before me and resting on my decision. From week to week I have been willing to postpone looking my position in the face, seeking to excuse myself to my conscience by the plea of the many unavoidable demands on my time and thoughts which a new parish and a church just commenced seem to make; although I feel that the danger of such a course is that I may sink into a worldly, indifferent thing, seeking in the praise of men a reward for my treachery to God. I have seen H. but once since I saw the bishop. The visit was more constrained, because I felt I ought not to betray my feelings; indeed, I would not go to see H. unless I were afraid of resisting some design which God may have formed for me—because the intercourse has not been of my seeking, and this appearance of deceit and double-dealing is dreadful to me, and makes me feel as if I were guilty.

"I have not read any thing since my interview with the bishop. My plan is to wait and seriously consider what I ought to do. I need not tell you I am not happy. I am free from many of the annoyances which distress you, as I read no R. C. papers, and scarcely any of our own, and have no associate. I strive to live by the rule recommended by Dr. Pusey, and am almost as much isolated from Protestants as if there were none in our communion. I believe most firmly in the Sacrifice of the Mass, in the Real Presence, in the Veneration of Relics, in the Mediation of the Saints, and especially of St. Mary. I constantly beseech God to hear her supplications in my behalf, and only do not invoke her because I am not sure of the authority for doing so. I believe also in Purgatory. My difficulties are on the subject of Church authority and the Supremacy. My sympathy in doctrine, my reverence for the holy men who have gone out from us, my strong prepossessions in favor of the Roman Catholic Church, which have never left me at any period of my life, and the distress among us, all draw me to Rome; but the single question I ask myself (or strive to do so) is, whether any of these things ought to decide me, and whether the point of inquiry ought not to be—What is the Church? Partly on account of my position, and partly, dear Dwight, on account of grave deficiencies and sins in myself, I feel that I am full of inconsistencies, contradictions, apparent insincerities (perhaps real), presumptuous and fearful at the same time, tossed with tempest, and not comforted, not fully persuaded in my own mind, and not bending all my energies to become so. And now, my dear Dwight, I have only opened my heart to you, without at all thinking of the effect it would have upon you. Simply seeking, as in duty bound, to deal with you as a friend, I have let you somewhat into my heart—only somewhat, for I deeply feel that to a full understanding of my state of feeling, even in reference to this subject, it would be needful that I should kneel down and humbly confess (as it would be a comfort to do) all the many offenses in word and deed of a sinful and tangled life. I have humbled myself before you. I know not how it shall be hereafter between us, how differently you may soon look upon me from what you have been used to do; but, wherever you are, think of me as a sinner and a penitent, and as one who desires and needs your prayers. * * * * * "And now, my dear friend, I do not think of any thing else which I ought to say to you, but to reciprocate the earnest hope and the conviction that you express, that God Almighty may enable us together to have an abode here in that Ark which He has set up as the place of safety and peace in a lost world, and may give us together an entrance into His Presence forever. May He of His undeserved mercy grant it."

During the winter of 1851 and 1852, Mr. Baker was very much occupied with church-building, and also with the cares and anxieties of illness and death in his family, and his attention was thus drawn away in a measure from himself and from the question of the Church.

His next letter of interest was written in May, 1852, communicating the intelligence of the death of his aunt and of his brother:

"I have no doubt that you have thought your kind and patient letter deserved an earlier answer, but I have been greatly and particularly occupied ever since I received it When it came, Aunt E. was very ill, and our anxiety about her continued to increase until she was taken from us on the 31st of January. Immediately after, dear Alfred began to decline rapidly, and after an interval of some weeks of great suffering on his part, and of watching and sadness on ours, he too was taken on the 9th of April (Good Friday). You, who knew them both, and knew what place they held in our hearts, can imagine the greatness of the bereavement, and the depth of our suffering. God has supported us mercifully, and I heartily thank Him that I have so great a solace in thinking of the character of our dear departed ones; and it is at such times that I feel the consolatory nature of the doctrine of the communion of saints, and the comfort of the practice of praying for the dead. To you, who know so much of my feelings, I will not deny that the uncertainty which rests upon the question of the Church has disturbed the fixedness of my hope and faith during this sorrowful winter, but I have not been able to advance in its investigation. I now propose to resume my studies as regularly and as perseveringly as my duties will permit. You are much and often in my thoughts, and often do I wish that I could do by you the part of a faithful friend. You always have a part in my prayers, and it would be to me a great happiness to have the assurance one day that my friendship has not been without some benefit to you. I assure you I prize it, and I feel more strongly that I have more in common with you than with anyone else with whom I communicate. I have not the heart nor indeed the time to write more."

"September 15, 1852. "I came away from Columbia with many pleasant, affectionate thoughts about you, and grateful recollections of your kindness, and you have often been in my mind since my return. You will be glad to learn that my little jaunt was of decided service to me. I have been improving in health ever since my return, and now feel quite well. I suppose by this time you have been on to the North and have returned, and, like myself, are now quietly settled down to your duties. I found my sisters much benefited by their trip to the sea-shore, and our little household has again resumed its accustomed habits. I need not tell you, dear Dwight, how glad I shall be if you will consent to come on now and pay your promised visit. You might come at the beginning of the week, and I would go and take your Sunday duties (choose a Sunday when service is all day at Columbia), and then I would return on Monday to be with you at home another week. I cannot promise to do you good, but I can offer you, at least, what you will not receive elsewhere, true and affectionate sympathy. I do most deeply feel for you in your anxieties, and in much, in very much, I feel with you. I felt when I was with you, my dear friend (now my only friend), as if the difference between us was this: that you had really come to a conclusion, while I was still of a fearful and divided mind. I felt as if there was something dishonorable and disgraceful in such a state of indecision, while there was an appearance of manliness in your boldness and determination, and I was ashamed of myself. Besides, I found myself sometimes taking the anti-Roman side in argument with you, and then I was vexed with myself for doing what I did nowhere else, and what I could not do heartily anywhere, and I seemed to myself insincere. I do not know whether you can understand me, but I want you to understand my feelings; for I do not want you to think I am insincere, and I felt so much obliged to you when you told me that you said to H. that you did not think me so. I believe uncertainty often carries the appearance of insincerity; and uncertain I own myself to be, full of sadness, full of doubt. O Dwight, what is there in such a situation to make one remain in it, if one could conscientiously leave it? What could hinder me from being a Roman Catholic but for the fear of doing wrong? I assure you, that as regards this world I have not a hope or desire, and there is nothing earthly which I could not part with this night. Nothing seems to me worth living for but the knowledge of the truth and the love of God; and that position in which I feel I should be the happiest would be where I should be certain what was truth, and could live a life hidden from the world with God. I feel concerned at finding myself writing so much about myself, and in such a strain; but I think, in reading over the letter, you will understand how I came to do it, and will pardon it.

"I have been reading lately pretty systematically on the Roman question. De Maistre and Lacordaire I have finished, and will return them to you if you wish them. They are both philosophical rather than theological, and from that fact, as well as from the French way in which they are written, I think they will be less influential with persons brought up in the school with you and me. I thought the remarks of De Maistre on the temporal power of the Popes not near so forcible as those in Brownson's Review. Thompson seems to me now, as he did before, a remarkably cogent and attractive writer. I have not finished his pamphlet as yet, but feel very much interested in it. I have procured Balmez, and Newman on Anglicanism, but have not yet read them. When I was in Philadelphia I saw Mr. ——. He called on Manning when he was in London, and had a very interesting interview. M. is about to publish another edition of his book on the Unity of the Church. I should indeed like to see it, or any thing else that Came from his hand. * * * * * "God bless you, my dear friend; write to me fully and freely as of old, and be sure of the affection of your friend, "F. A. B."

"Ash Wednesday, 1853. * * * "The general tone of your letter, too, was sad, and that also fell in with my own feelings, for you may be sure that the stirring event of the last month has not been without a great effect on me, agitated as I was before by so many serious doubts. Well, another has gone, and that the most eminent of the party with which you and I have been identified, and you and I remain asking still what we are to do! To me the question has been of late and is now one of absorbing and pressing importance, and yet I do not know how to answer it, and in my perplexity can do nothing but pray—pray, as I have done most earnestly, for direction from on high; and my comfort, dear Dwight, is to know that you also pray for me. What I want is the heart just to stand waiting God's bidding, and, when that is given, to act without delay or taking counsel with the flesh. I should so much like to see Bishop Ives's Reasons, which I suppose will in some way be published. * * * I received the first number of a newspaper from New York, the Church Journal (which is most vociferously anti-Roman). —— is one of the editors. By the way, —— is also connected with this paper, and ——. I felt sorry to think of what a different spirit they once were; and yet, if the Church of Rome be not what she claims to be, the position of such men as Bishop Whittingham is the right one, and ours is untenable. However, I cannot but own that I have a drawing toward the Roman Catholic communion so strong that, if I were to be without it, I should feel as if I were not myself. I have not thought it right to go by this feeling, but it is very strong, and I confess I feel envious of Bishop Ives, when I think of him in his new home—a feeling which I often have in reference to dear H., whom I loved and reverenced so truly. (By the way, H., I hear, is either at present in Baltimore, or is about coming here, to conduct a 'mission' in the Cathedral.) I often feel afraid, my dear Dwight, in writing on such subjects, of doing wrong in expressing my feelings and thoughts, and of doing you harm; but after all, it seems not improper for friends such as we are to speak without reserve, and perhaps I have done so too little.