of old, and be sure of the affection of your friend,
"F. A. B."
{103}
"_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.
{104}
"I have been reading a good deal lately.
* * *
The articles on Cyprian (by Dr. Nevin) were indeed most
masterly, and seemed to me to express the true doctrine of
antiquity as to the primacy of the Roman See. They have caused
a good deal of speculation on my part. I do not see how the
writer can fail to become a Roman Catholic. I did not tell you
what I thought of Newman's book; it was full of power, many
most capital hits and brilliant passages, and, what is better,
satisfactory explanations of difficulties. The eleventh lecture
seemed to me the least successful, and I own, even after
reading it, the position of the Greek Church, based on a
theological theory not unlike that which is advocated by
Anglo-Catholics, and much the same (as Brownson seems to think)
with that held by many Roman Catholics, does seem to me a
difficulty. Balmez, too, I have proceeded some way with, and am
much interested in.
"I thank you for Brownson very much. I have read the number you
sent me, and it has set me to thinking. His positions are bold
and require some reflection; and though I find in him the
consistent expression of much that I think I always believed,
yet he presents many new ideas to me.
* * *
"Adieu to-night, my dear Dwight. May the blessing of Heaven be
with you."
This was the last of these sad epistles--these outbreathings of a
pure and noble, but troubled spirit, enveloped in the obscure
night of doubt, and seeking wearily for the light of truth. It
was written on the first day of Lent; and when that Lent had
passed by, the clouds of mist had lifted from around the soul of
Francis Baker, never to return. Before he wrote again to his dear
friend, the _coup de-grace_ had been given. The blow was
struck suddenly and effectually, and the news of it came
unexpectedly, with a startling and almost sunning effect upon his
friend, through the following brief and abrupt communication--
{105}
"Baltimore, _April_ 5, 1853.
"My Dear Dwight:--The decision is made: I have resigned my
parish, and am about to place myself under instruction
preparatory to my being received into the Catholic Church. I
can write no more at present. May God help you.
"Your affectionate friend,
"Francis A. Baker."
This letter was followed by another, written three days after, in
reply to one from Mr. Lyman.
"My Dear Dwight:--It _was_ cruel in me to write so
briefly, but if you knew what a press of duty came upon me just
at once, you would pity me, and indeed now I am in such a
confusion, that it takes some courage to write a line. But, my
dear friend, you have been so great a help to me, that it would
be worse than heathen in me not to give you one word of
explanation. I decided to submit to the Catholic Church last
Sunday night, and gave in my resignation to the vestry on last
Tuesday morning. I went to the archbishop, and to-morrow I make
my profession in St. Alphonsus' Church, before only two
witnesses, the least the rubric requires. This was in
compliance with the advice of the Bishop, who did not think it
well to give unnecessary publicity to the act. Plain and
sufficient arguments had long enough been addressed to my mind,
but my conversion at last I owe only to the grace of God. It
was the gift of God through Prayers, and now I can say 'Nunc
Dimittis'--for 'I believe, O God! all the Holy Truths which Thy
Catholic Church proposes to our belief, because Thou, my God,
hast revealed them all; and Thy Church has declared them. In
this faith I desire to live, and in the same, by Thy holy
grace, I am most firmly resolved to die. Amen.'
* * *
"I shall prepare for the sacraments next week, but beyond that,
I have formed no plans.
{106}
"My dear Dwight, I feel that I have too long resisted God's
grace, and it will be one of the sins which I must now repent
of. God by His merciful kindness did not suffer me to be
abandoned, as, indeed, my resistance of His grace deserved, but
kindly pleaded with me, and I am now at the threshold of the
kingdom of God. Come with us, dear Dwight, come; God's time is
the best time. May our Lord bless you and direct you. Yours
affectionately,
"Francis A. Baker."
This closes the correspondence of Mr. Baker with the dear and
valued friend of his youth and manhood, previous to his reception
into the Catholic Church; and I have postponed the continuation
of my narrative in order to complete my extracts from it, and
leave the writer to tell his own touching story to the end.
Mr. Baker's conversion was the logical sequence of his former
life, both intellectual and spiritual; it was the result of the
accumulating light of the eleven preceding years, concentrated
and brought to a focus upon the practical question of duty and
obligation. The particular events which immediately preceded it,
were like the stroke of the hammer on the mould of a bell,
already completely cast and finished beneath it, and waiting only
the shattering of its earthen shell to ring out with a clear and
musical sound. "_The just man is the accuser of himself_,"
and Mr. Baker, whose deep humility made him unconscious of his
own goodness, in the first vivid consciousness that the light
which had led him to the Catholic Church was the light of grace,
could no longer understand his past state of doubt, and
reproached himself for it, as a sinful resistance to God. It is
not necessary, however, to suppose that there was any thing
grievously culpable in that state of doubt and hesitation.
{107}
He was right in attributing his final decision to the efficacious
grace of the Holy Spirit. But this grace was only the last of a
long series of graces which had prepared him to receive it. It
did not change, but only perfected his habitual disposition of
mind. It produced a crisis and a transformation in his soul, but
it was one to which a long and gradual process had been
continually tending. It was not a miracle, or a sudden
revelation. Careful thought and reading, and the assiduous
cultivation of his spiritual faculties had brought him to the
apprehension of all the data of a rational judgment that the
Catholic Church is true. The apparently sudden moment of
deliberation and decision was but the successful effort of the
mind and will to come into the certain consciousness of the truth
already fairly proposed, and to determine to follow it. It was a
supernatural grace which made this effort successful, and
elevated the just conclusions of reason to the certitude of
faith. But it was not a grace which superseded reason or
dispensed with the reasonable grounds and evidences of an
intellectual judgment and the motives of a just determination.
Mr. Baker must have been drawing near to a decision during the
whole of Lent; for his mind was evidently more deeply and
earnestly bent on coming to it, when I saw him in Easter Week,
than ever. He called on me on the Friday evening of Easter week,
and his manner was much changed. His anxiety of mind broke
through the reserve he had heretofore maintained, and instead of
the guarded and self-controlled manner he had preserved in former
interviews, he was abrupt and outspoken. At the very outset, he
expressed his feeling that the question of difference between us
was one of vital importance, in regard to which one of us must be
deeply and dangerously in the wrong, and desired to discuss the
matter with me fully. I suppose his intention was to see me more
frequently than he had done, to open his mind more fully, and to
get from me all the help I could give him in making up his mind.
We had a pretty long conversation on theological points, without
going into the discussion of fundamental Catholic principles.
{108}
The truth is, Mr. Baker had already mastered these principles,
and was really settled in regard to every essential doctrine. He
had no need of further study, but merely of an effort to shake
off that kind of doubt which is a mental weakness, and
perpetually revolves difficulties and objections which ought not
to affect the judgment. The one particular point which we
discussed most was in reference to some passages in the writings
of St. Augustine concerning the doctrine of Purgatory--a doctrine
which he had clearly stated his belief in, two years before. I
answered his difficulty as well as I could at the time, promising
to examine the matter more fully the next day, and to give him a
written answer, which I accordingly did, but too late to be of
any service to him, as the sequel will show. I left him with a
strong impression that the crisis of his mind was at hand, and
for that reason engaged all the members of the community to pray
for him particularly. After leaving me, he called on a young lady
who was very ill, and had sent for him to visit her. This young
lady, who died happily in the bosom of the Catholic Church a few
weeks after, had already sent for one of the reverend gentlemen
of the Cathedral, and expressed to him her desire to become a
Catholic, but had consented, at the request of her family, to
have an interview with Mr. Baker before receiving the sacraments.
When he came to her bedside, she informed him of her state of
mind, and asked him if he had any satisfactory reason to allege
why she should not fulfil her wish to be received into the
Catholic Church before she died. He told her that he regretted
very much that she had chosen to consult with him on that point,
as there were reasons why he must decline giving her advice on
the subject. She conjured him to tell her distinctly what he
thought, and he again replied that he was not able to say any
thing to her on the subject. She looked at him earnestly, and
said, "I see how it is, Mr. Baker; you are in doubt yourself."
Without saying another word, he left the room and the house,
transpierced with a pain which he could neither endure nor
remove.
{109}
He turned his steps toward the Cathedral, and walked around it
several times, like one not knowing where to go, and then
returned to his home and his study to remain in solitude and
prayer, through several anxious days and sleepless nights. He was
now face to face with the certainty that he dare not promise to
anyone else security of salvation in the Episcopal Church. Yet,
he was a minister of that Church, and was trusting his own
salvation to it. To remain in such a position longer had become
impossible to a conscientious man like him. Nevertheless, he went
through the duties of Sunday, and again read prayers in his
church on the Monday and Tuesday mornings. He had been censured
for this, by some, as if he had acted a hypocritical part, but
most unjustly. Certainly, if he had asked my advice beforehand, I
should have told him that he had no right to do it. But the
reader of this narrative will see that his own conscience had
been frequently overruled on the question of exercising the
ministry in a state of doubt, and on Sunday he was still in this
state, undecided what to do. He did not actually give in his
resignation until after prayers on Tuesday morning, and any
candid person will surely admit that he was excusable, in the
agitation of the moment, for thinking that it was better to
fulfil the engagements he was under to his people until the last
moment, when these consisted merely in reciting a form of prayer
which is very good in itself, and contains nothing contrary to
Catholic doctrine.
On Tuesday, the 5th of April, Mr. Baker gave a letter of
resignation to the vestry of St. Luke's Church, called on Dr.
Wyatt, who was the administrator of the diocese during the
bishop's absence in Europe, and then went to see the archbishop.
When he was admitted to the presence of this venerable and
saintly prelate, he threw himself on his knees before him, and in
accents and words of the most profound humility made his
submission to the Catholic Church, and implored him to receive
him into her bosom.
{110}
The archbishop, who knew him well by sight and by reputation,
arose in haste from his chair to raise him from his knees, in a
few warm and affectionate words welcomed him to his embrace, and
begged him to be seated by his side and to calm himself. It was
with difficulty that he could induce him to do so, for the
barrier in his soul that had held it icebound for so long had
given way: a torrent of repressed emotions was swelling in his
bosom, and after a moment he burst into a flood of tears, the
gentle and good archbishop weeping with him from sympathy. After
a long and consoling conversation with the archbishop, he came
over to St. Alphonsus' Church, which is near the Cathedral, to
see me.
I was making a retreat that day, and was walking in the garden,
when a message was sent me by the rector to go to the parlor to
see Mr. Baker. As soon as he saw me, he said, abruptly, "I have
come to be one of you." I invited him inside the inclosure, and
he, fancying I misunderstood his words to imply that he was ready
to join our religious congregation, answered quickly, "I do not
mean that I wish to become a Redemptorist, but a Catholic." "I
understand that," I replied; "let us go to the oratory and recite
a Te Deum of thanksgiving." We did so, and then walked in the
garden together for a short time. The first time I ever saw an
expression of real joyfulness in his countenance was then. He was
always placid, but never, so far as I could see, joyous, before
he became a Catholic. To my great surprise, he chose me as his
confessor. I left the time of his reception to himself, and he
chose Saturday, the 9th of April, which was the anniversary of
the death of his brother Alfred. On Saturday morning, I said Mass
in the little chapel of the Orphan Asylum of the Sisters of
Charity. Father Hecker, who was present, on account of the
approaching mission, accompanied me to the chapel. After Mass,
Mr. Baker made his profession, according to the old form,
containing the full creed of Pius IV., and I received him into
the bosom of the Church.
{111}
No others were present besides the good Sisters and their little
children. He had been baptized by Dr. Wyatt, and the archbishop
decided that there was no reason whatever for his being
conditionally rebaptized. I performed the supplementary rites of
baptism, such as the anointing with holy oil and chrism, the
giving of the white garment and lighted candle, etc., at his own
request, in the sacristy of the Cathedral, after his sacramental
confession was completed. This sacred act was accomplished in the
archbishop's library. During the week after his reception, and on
the Third Sunday after Easter, April 17, he was confirmed in the
Cathedral by Archbishop Kenrick, and received his first communion
from his hand.
The conversion of Mr. Baker made a great sensation in Baltimore,
and wherever he was known. It was announced in the secular
papers, and for some weeks a lively controversy arising out of it
was kept up. It was the general topic of conversation in all
circles, Catholic and Protestant. The sorrow of his own
parishioners, of those who had loved and honored him so much
while he was connected with St. Paul's parish, and especially of
his more near and intimate friends, was very great. His own near
relatives, and a certain number of his intimate friends, never
were in the least alienated from him, but remained as closely
bound to him in affection as ever, while they and he lived. The
great majority of those who had been his admirers, and who had
listened with delight to his eloquent preaching, always retained
a great respect and esteem for him; and during his whole
subsequent life, he almost invariably won a regard from those of
the Protestant community who were acquainted with him, second
only to that of the Catholic people to whom he ministered. There
were some exceptions to this rule, however. A few persons wrote
to him in the most severe and reproachful terms. The usual
pitiable charge, that his religious change was caused by mental
derangement, was made by those whose wretched policy has always
been to counteract as much as possible the influence of
conversions to the Catholic Church by personal calumnies against
the converts.
{112}
He was sometimes openly insulted, and much more frequently
treated with coldness and neglect. Notwithstanding the respect
with which so many still regarded him in their hearts, he was
compelled to feel that he had become, in great measure, an alien
and a stranger in the community where he had been born and bred.
In a short time, his duty called him away from his native city,
and, somewhat later, from his own State, into a distant part of
the country. All the old associations of his early life were
broken up; he had no longer an earthly home; and until his death
he had, for the most part, no other ties and associations except
those which were created by his religious profession and his
sacerdotal office. Some six or seven persons were received into
the Church soon after his conversion, three or four of whom were
his parishioners; and some others may have been at a later period
partly influenced by his example. But none of his intimate and
particular friends were among the number, with the exception of
his old and bosom friend and associate in the ministry, Mr.
Lyman. His name and influence faded away, and were forgotten
among the things of the past; while he, having bidden farewell to
the world and taken up his cross, followed on after Christ,
toward the crown he was soon to win, and was lost to the view of
those among whom he had lived before, in the dust of the combat
and labor of an arduous and obscure missionary career.