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.
{91}
"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.
{92}
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.
{93}
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.
{94}
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.
{95}
"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!"
{96}
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."
{97}
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.
{98}
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.
{99}
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.
{100}
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.
{101}
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.
{102}
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.
* * * * *