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.
{65}
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.
{66}
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.
{67}
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.
{68}
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.
{69}
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.
{70}
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.
{71}
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.
{72}
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.
{73}
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."
* * * * *
{74}
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.
{75}
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.
{76}
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.
{77}