9%r, 
 
 
 
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SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY, Jr. 
 
S.FUtc&C**Cf &. 
 
8 Jflemortal 
 
 OF 
 
 Samuel Foster McCleary, Jr. 
 
 ASSOCIATE PASTOR OF THE 
 
 CHURCH OF THE SAVIOUR, 
 
 BROOKLYN, N.Y. 
 
 1892. 
 
 P1U VA TEL Y PRINTED. 
 
 £*°V*a 
 

 lA 
 
 z,- 
 
 University Press: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 
 
 
 Cw«JL~- 
 
 &w.-rv trh (X-*. V^^^-^C,' 
 
' If any little word of mine 
 
 May make a life the brighter, 
 If any little song of mine 
 
 May make a heart the lighter, 
 If any lift of mine may ease 
 
 The burden of another, 
 God give me love and care and strength 
 
 To help my tolling brother. " 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 Memoir 11 
 
 Memorial Service 25 
 
 Resolutions, etc 49 
 
 Letters from Europe 73 
 
 Sermons 179 
 
 Ullustrattons. 
 
 PORTRAIT Frontispiece 
 
 From Class Photograph, 1888. 
 
 Portrait 71 
 
 From a photograph, 1890. 
 
M EMOl R. 
 
MEMOIR. 
 
 CAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY, son of Samuel 
 Foster and Emily Thurston (Barnard) McCleary, 
 was born in Boston on November 17, 1865. His 
 father, a graduate of Harvard College in 1841, was 
 educated for the Bar, and was City Clerk of Boston 
 for thirty-one years. His mother, a daughter of 
 Capt. James Henry and Eliza Lawrence Barnard, 
 of Nantucket, received a careful education at the 
 best schools in her native town and in New Bedford, 
 and was graduated at the Glen Cove Seminaiy on 
 Long Island. In addition to her personal graces 
 and accomplishments, she possessed a thorough 
 house-keeping knowledge and a taste for domestic 
 economies, — qualities which usually characterize 
 the young women of Nantucket. 
 
 From his mother, Samuel inherited the delicate 
 organization in which he was framed, as well as 
 the transparent nature and the high moral purpose 
 which always actuated his course through life. 
 
12 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 After attendance at the Rice Grammar School in 
 Boston, which he left with a high rank, he entered 
 the Public Latin School, whence he was graduated 
 with much credit. He at once entered Harvard 
 College, in the fall of 1884, receiving upon his 
 admission several honors for the quality of his 
 examination papers. 
 
 At college he attained, and kept throughout the 
 course, a rank above the average, receiving for his 
 Freshman work a Detur, "pro insigni in studiis 
 diligentia," and he was graduated cum laude in the 
 Class of 1888. 
 
 While attentive to his studies and duties in college, 
 he did not sacrifice any of the social conditions or 
 amenities of his academic career. Hence we find 
 him a member of the Institute of 1770, of the Hast} T 
 Pudding Club, of the O. K. Society (a select literary 
 club), and an active and influential editor of "The 
 Harvard Advocate." He and his classmate Lloyd 
 McKim Garrison were the first Freshmen who were 
 ever elected on the editorial staff of the " Advocate." 
 He was also one of the originators of the Harvard 
 Banjo Club. By virtue of these several associations 
 he became largely intimate with most of the mem- 
 bers of his class, which numbered two hundred 
 and fort} 7 , as well as with numerous contemporary 
 undergrad uates . 
 
MEMOIR. 13 
 
 The large size of the classes at the present day is 
 not conducive to that closeness of feeling, or that 
 esprit de corps, which characterized and favored the 
 classes of fifty years ago ; yet it is conceded that 
 few men were better acquainted with the class gen- 
 erally, or were more warmly esteemed by it, than the 
 subject of this memoir. 
 
 Having been assigned an honorable part at Com- 
 mencement, he took for his subject, " The Earl of 
 Chesterfield : a Man of the World." 
 
 Upon graduation he entered into the business of 
 the publication of Artistic Pictures and Designs, for 
 which he had considerable taste. But recognizing 
 that his collegiate education imposed on him corre- 
 sponding obligations to extend its influence and 
 results to others, he concluded, after serious reflec- 
 tion, that he ought to take such a course through 
 life as would make his capacities and his influence 
 as beneficial as possible to his fellow-men. He 
 therefore entered the Harvard Divinity School in 
 September, 1889, with the determination to devote 
 himself to the ministry. His course during the 
 three years spent at this school was most creditable 
 to him, and won the approbation of the profes- 
 sors and his fellow-students. He was graduated in 
 June, 1892, with the degrees of Bachelor of Divinity 
 and Master of Arts. His thesis on this occasion was 
 " The Life and Time of Savonarola." 
 
14 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 During his course at the Divinity School he wrote 
 and preached several sermons for the occasional sup- 
 ply of pulpits in churches near Boston ; and in the 
 summer vacation of 1891 he was sent by the Amer- 
 ican Unitarian Association to the town of New 
 Whatcom, on Puget Sound, at the extreme north- 
 western portion of the State of Washington, where 
 he gathered weekly a small congregation of earnest 
 supporters of his liberal faith. He worked zealously 
 in this cause, and had the satisfaction of seeing his 
 audiences increase in number and interest, and, had 
 he been able to continue his services there without 
 intermission, he would have established a societ}' 
 with some degree of coherence and strength ; but 
 he was obliged to return to his studies at Cam- 
 bridge at the close of his vacation. His efforts 
 at New Whatcom were greatly appreciated, and 
 thej 7 are remembered at this day with grateful 
 interest. 
 
 In a letter to him, at the close of this service, 
 from Rev. Thomas Van Ness, then the secretary 
 of the Pacific Unitarian Conference, this passage 
 occurs : ' ' The Whatcom people speak of your 
 work in high praise. I trust I shall be able to get 
 another worthy and consecrated young man to fol- 
 low you. I think you did a most excellent work, 
 and shall always feel as if you were the founder of 
 
MEMOIR. 15 
 
 the Whatcom society, if it continues and becomes 
 permanent." 
 
 In a letter received, on his return to Cambridge, 
 from an influential member of the little society in 
 Whatcom, the writer says : " I fear we shall not find 
 another so well fitted as you in every particular. In 
 whatever way you go we shall always watch your 
 course with interest, and shall take pride and plea- 
 sure in all the noble work that we know you will do 
 in the years to come if your health is spared. Take 
 care of your health. You are so nervous, so enthu- 
 siastic, so earnest to accomplish the most possible, 
 so forgetful of j-ourself, that your constant danger is 
 to overwork a body not naturally strong." 
 
 This was indeed a prophetic warning, for it 
 touched the spring of his ultimate illness and un- 
 timely death. 
 
 At the following Christmas vacation, in December, 
 1891, he received a request from the Rev. H. Price 
 Collier to come to Brooklyn, N. Y., and assist him 
 in the administration of the extensive and important 
 missions connected with the Church of the Saviour 
 in that city. Accordingly, he went and worked in 
 that field during two weeks so efficiently, that in the 
 following January (1892) he received a flattering 
 call from the trustees of that church to become the 
 assistant minister of the societj 7 . 
 
16 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 After consultation with his friends he accepted the 
 position, — the society being willing to wait for his 
 assistance until he could complete his course at the 
 Divinity School in the following June. 
 
 Upon his graduation he obtained from the society 
 permission to travel three months abroad, and to 
 begin his ministerial duties on Oct. 1, 1892. Ac- 
 cordingly, with one of his fellow-students, Franklin 
 C. Southworth, now settled at Duluth, Minn., he 
 went to Europe, and visited England, France, Italy, 
 and Switzerland, — a journe} 7 which he thoroughly 
 enjoyed. But the fatigue promoted by his desire to 
 see every object of interest in Rome and Florence, 
 joined to the excessively hot weather in those cities, 
 somewhat weakened his system, which the subse- 
 quent bracing air of Switzerland failed to support. 
 Consequently, at Zermatt he was taken seriously ill, 
 and at one time it was thought he could not recover. 
 He improved, however, rapidly, but resumed his 
 journey before his strength had wholly returned. 
 On reaching home he proceeded, after a few days 
 of rest, to Brooklyn, where, on Oct. 2, 1892, he was 
 inducted into his pastoral duties bj 7 a veiy simple 
 and informal service, — this being consonant with 
 his modest views. 
 
 The following is the invitation which was issued to 
 the members of the society upon this occasion : — 
 
MEMOIR. 1 7 
 
 raillofo Pace Otyapel 
 
 OF THE 
 
 Cljurcfj of tfje Sabt'our. 
 
 You are cordially invited to attend a Special Service 
 at the Willow Place Chapel, on Sunday evening, October 
 9th, at eight o'clock, when the Rev. Samuel F. McCleary, 
 Jr., will begin his duties as minister. 
 
 The Church has formally called Mr. McCleary as its 
 Assistant Minister, with special charge of the interests of 
 the Chapel, and he has accepted the call. 
 
 On behalf of the Church, Hon. Willard Bartlett, Presi- 
 dent of the Board of Trustees, will present Mr. McCleary 
 to the congregation at this service. 
 
 After the service, an opportunity will be given for a 
 personal introduction to the new minister. 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 George C. Brackett, 
 William A. Butler, 
 Theodore L. Frothingham, 
 
 Committee. 
 
 Id the mean while an important change had taken 
 place in the parish of the Church of the Saviour. 
 
 It seems that after his acceptance of the position 
 in the parish as associate minister in the spring of 
 1892, he learned that the Rev. Mr. Collier had un- 
 expectedly resigned his own position as pastor of 
 
 3 
 
18 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 that societ}' . This resignation took effect on Oct. 1 , 
 1892, so that the subject of this memoir found the 
 pulpit of the parish vacant on his arrival. 
 
 This fact affected his fond anticipations most seri- 
 ously, and induced a feeling of sorrowful regret^ 
 which overshadowed his bright hopes, and necessa- 
 rily imposed on him a sense of increased responsi- 
 bility at the outset of his career. 
 
 Notwithstanding this dispiriting fact, he entered 
 zealously upon his multifarious duties, which he 
 undertook to fulfil to the uttermost, not sparing his 
 time or strength if he could only benefit or bless his 
 needy creatures. On Sundays his principal duties 
 consisted in reading the morning service at the 
 Church of the Saviour, in the superintendence of 
 the afternoon Sunday-school at the Willow Place 
 Chapel, and in the conduct of the evening service 
 at that chapel, which was largely attended by the 
 poor people of the parish. On other da} T s he devoted 
 the greater part of his time and strength to visits 
 among the sick, to procuring situations for workmen 
 out of employment, to obtaining better quarters for 
 such as were poorly housed, and to comforting and 
 cheering their discouraged families. In this charita- 
 ble work he had the support of an influential Board 
 of Trustees, and an efficient corps of workers. No 
 church could have a better force of auxiliaries. In 
 
MEMOIR. 19 
 
 this respect he often declared himself most fortu- 
 nate ; but still, with all his personal enthusiasm, 
 there was wanting that directing wisdom and intel- 
 ligence which might assume some of his responsi- 
 bility, and which he could consult in cases of doubt 
 or difficult}'. 
 
 After six weeks' experience in his duties he found 
 his mission work so extensive and absorbing that 
 he did not get the requisite time for composing his 
 weekly sermons. This fact soon affected seriously 
 his nervous system, and resulted in such a disturb- 
 ance of his brain as to produce a severe paroxysm 
 of suffering, in which he passed away on Dec. 2, 
 1892. Thus died, at the early age of twenty-seven, 
 this young man, a victim really of an extreme 
 conscientiousness, which impelled him continually 
 towards a high ideal of duty. That ideal he endeav- 
 ored to attain, and he fell at last while earnestly 
 engaged in his Master's cause. 
 
 His figure was slight, but he had a very attractive 
 presence ; his manner was always cordial. He had a 
 winning smile, and a clear, sweet voice. To these 
 outward graces there were added a nobility of soul, 
 an earnest enthusiasm for whatever was right and 
 true, and a most unselfish sympathy for his fellow- 
 men. This last attribute was his prominent charac- 
 teristic ; for whenever sj^mpathy of any kind was 
 
20 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 needed, or material aid to be extended, or errands 
 of meixry done, his word was always ready to cheer, 
 his hand to aid or support, and his busy feet to run. 
 One friend writes of him: "The world would be 
 better from his simply living in it." The Rev. Mr. 
 Van Ness once felicitously wrote to him: "It is 
 your personality which counts." 
 
 Thoroughness was with him a prime character- 
 istic. Like his Samaritan exemplar, he not only 
 conveyed the object of his interest to the inn, but he 
 did not forget to leave the penny for his care. So, 
 to equip himself full}' to aid the sufferers in his con- 
 templated mission, he went weekly, in his Senior 
 year at the Divinity School, to the Boston City 
 Hospital, and took practical lessons in the dressing 
 of wounds, the making and application of bandages, 
 and the subsequent care of physical injuries. Thus 
 thoroughly educated and informed for his work, he 
 entered upon it with an enthusiastic zeal which at 
 first overcame all obstacles, and acknowledged no 
 repulse, so that the ultimate satisfactory end could 
 be attained. In this pursuit all thoughts of self, of 
 health, or sleep, were put aside, and his entire ener- 
 gies were devoted to the purposes and welfare of his 
 mission. He thus was — 
 
 ' ' In his duty prompt at every call, 
 
 To watch, weep, pray, and feel for all." 
 
MEMOIR. 21 
 
 Such exhausting drafts upon his sympathy and 
 nervous force could not be long continued without 
 alleviation of some sort. His delicate organization 
 sank under such demands, and the inevitable pen alt}* 
 was exacted. Thus his brief career closed ; but it 
 was, nevertheless, full, fruitful, and complete. His 
 life now for his family and friends is a sweet and 
 
 sacred memory. 
 
 S. F. M. 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 
 
 TN accordance with the wishes of his family and 
 friends, a service commemorative of the life and 
 character of Rev. Samuel F. McCleary, Jr., was held 
 Dec. 14, 1892, at the Church of the Disciples in 
 Boston, of which society he was a member, and in 
 whose Sundaj' -school he took an active interest. 
 
 Notwithstanding the inclement weather which pre- 
 vailed on that day, the church was filled 03- his 
 friends, among whom were very many of his class- 
 mates and the Faculty and Students of the Harvard 
 Divinity School. The pulpit was decked with 
 flowers contributed by the officers and members of 
 the Sunday-school. 
 
 The exercises were conducted b} T the Rev. Charles 
 G. Ames, pastor of the church, who was assisted 
 by the Rev. Charles F. Russell, pastor of the First 
 Church of Weston, Mass., and by the Rev. Francis 
 Gr. Peabody, D. D., Professor of Theology at the 
 Harvard Divinity School. 
 
26 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 The services were opened with Handel's ' ' Largo," 
 rendered b} 7 Joseph T. Hazelton, the organist of the 
 church, which was followed by this hymn : — 
 
 One prayer I have, — all prayers in one, — 
 
 When I am wholly thine ; 
 Thy will, my God, thy will be done ; 
 
 And let that will be mine. 
 
 All-wise, All-mighty, and All-good, 
 
 In thee I firmly trust ; 
 Thy ways, unknown or understood, 
 
 Are merciful and just. 
 
 Thy gifts are only then enjoyed 
 
 When used as talents lent ; 
 Those talents only well employed 
 
 When in thy service spent. 
 
 And, though thy wisdom takes away, 
 
 Shall I arraign thy will ? 
 No ; let me bless thy name, and say, 
 
 " The Lord is gracious still." 
 
 Mr. Ames then read from the Scriptures the 
 following 
 
 WORDS OF COMFORT. 
 
 Blessed be God, the Father of mercies, the God 
 of all consolation, who comforteth us in all our tribu- 
 lations, that we may be able to comfort others with 
 the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of 
 God. 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 27 
 
 God is our refuge and our strength, a very present 
 help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though 
 the earth be removed and the mountains carried into 
 the depths of the sea. 
 
 The eternal God is our refuge, and underneath 
 are the everlasting arms. 
 
 Our God is the God of salvation, and unto him 
 belong the issues of death. 
 
 He hath abolished death ; he hath brought life 
 and immortality to light through the gospel. 
 
 To him there is no death, for to him all are 
 living. 
 
 Let us no longer say that " in the midst of life we 
 are in death," but let us rather say that " in the 
 midst of death we are in life." 
 
 The dust returns to the earth as it was, and the 
 spirit to God who gave it. 
 
 My flesh and my heart fail ; but God is the 
 strength of my life and my portion forever. 
 
 For this cause we faint not ; for though our out- 
 ward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed 
 day by da}-. 
 
 For there is a natural body, and there is a spir- 
 itual body ; and as we have borne the image of the 
 earthy, we shall also bear the image of the heaventy. 
 
 But we that are in this bodily frame do sometimes 
 groan, being burdened ; }'et not that we would go 
 
28 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 out, but that we would go permanently in, that 
 mortalit}' may be swallowed up of life. 
 
 And he who hath made us for this very thing is 
 God, who also hath given unto us the earnest of the 
 Spirit. 
 
 For the Spirit beareth witness with our spirit that 
 we are children of God ; and if children, then heirs, 
 — heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ ; if so be 
 that we suffer with him, that we ma} 7 also be glorified 
 together. 
 
 For I reckon that the sufferings of this present 
 time are not worthy to be compared with the glory 
 that shall be revealed in us. 
 
 Therefore, though I walk through the valley of 
 the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art 
 with me ; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. 
 
 Thou shalt guide me by thy counsel ; and after- 
 ward thou shalt receive me to glory. 
 
 Then shall I be satisfied, when I awake with thy 
 likeness. 
 
 Mr. Ames then offered the following 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 Almighty and All-merciful ! Out of the shadows 
 of the earth we look up to the never-fading light of 
 heaven. Thou art forever blessed, and forever the 
 Giver of blessing, the Lord of life, the Lord of 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 29 
 
 death, the Lord of life eternal. Thou art the Maker 
 of our bodies, thou art the Father of our spirits. 
 Thou dost not forget the feebleness of our frame ; 
 thou knowest that we are dust. Thou dost not for- 
 get that this dust is made alive with thine own 
 breath ; thou knowest that we are thy children. 
 Are not all our names written in thy book ? Is not 
 every soul forever cared for by thy fatherly love ? 
 
 In our sorrow and our weakness, as in our joys, 
 to whom can we turn but unto thee, the Father of 
 mercies and the God of all comfort? When our 
 e3 r es are dim with tears so that we cannot see, and 
 wheu we cry out in the darkness like bewildered 
 children, thou art never far awa} T , and the things we 
 cannot know are all open to thy view. 
 
 We thank thee for the precious life which thou 
 hast given and taken. It was always thine ; and 
 because we have known and loved it, it must always 
 be ours. We thank thee for every sweet and fair 
 remembrance which comes to us at this hour, and 
 which must come to these bereaved ones man}' a 
 time by da}- and night, like a whisper of love from 
 the lips that are silent. We thank thee for that 
 bright though brief histoiy, unfolding in orderly 
 chapters of childhood, youth, and manhood ; and 
 most of all do we thank thee for the prophecy and 
 promise of its continuance which thou hast written 
 
30 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 in our hearts. And so we look upward, and reach 
 upward, to take the might} r gift of comfort and of 
 immortal hope. 
 
 Thou seest, and knowest, and lovest these dear 
 friends whose hearts are bleeding ; the balsam and 
 the healing can come only from thy hand. Help 
 them to feel that their treasures are not lost, that in 
 thy keeping all is safe. Into thy hands we com- 
 mit the spirit which seems to us as one departed. 
 Into thy hands we commit ourselves forever. Teach 
 us the sacred and blessed lesson, and inspire us with 
 the restful faith that we and ours are heirs of God and 
 joint-heirs with Jesus Christ to all thy boundless love 
 still holds in reserve. And may thy Spirit work in 
 our spirits with gracious power, to fit and prepare us 
 to be reunited and to dwell with thee as a part of thy 
 holy family, in worlds without end. Amen. 
 
 The congregation then joined in singing the fol- 
 lowing hymn : — 
 
 I cannot think of them as dead 
 
 Who walk with me no more ; 
 Along the path of life I tread 
 
 They have but gone before. 
 
 The Father's house is mansioned fair 
 
 Beyond my vision dim ; 
 All souls are his, and here or there 
 
 Are living unto him. 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 31 
 
 And still their silent ministry 
 
 Within my heart hath place, 
 As when on earth they walk'd with me 
 
 And met me face to face. 
 
 Their lives are made forever mine ; 
 
 What they to me have been 
 Hath left henceforth its seal and sign 
 Engraven deep within. 
 
 Mine are they by an ownership 
 
 Nor time nor death can free ; 
 For God hath given to Love to keep 
 
 Its own eternally. 
 
 Mr. Ames then said : — 
 
 Dear friends, we have met here to commem- 
 orate a beautiful life, and to express a glorious hope. 
 For after our loved ones vanish, every bright mem- 
 ory is transformed ; and the light of the past shines 
 on the future, revealing a vision of the same beau- 
 tiful life as it moves onward and upward, amid new 
 scenes and new activities ; ever the same, yet ever 
 rising from glory to glory, as led by the Spirit of 
 the Lord. 
 
 A cloud has caught our brother from our sight ; 
 but while we look mournfully at the cloud itself, the 
 radiance of a divine light shines upon it ; dear 
 human faces look through, and we find ourselves 
 compassed about by "a cloud of witnesses." 
 
32 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 To our poor reasoning our brother's life seems 
 to have ended too soon. But the very qualities 
 that made him winsome and useful, precious to his 
 friends and full of promise to the Church, were 
 the qualities that shortened his earthly days. The 
 passion for service burned in him like a fire, and in 
 that fire his bodily frame was consumed. He too 
 might have said, " The zeal of my Father's house 
 hath eaten me up." 
 
 But there may be reasons for a larger faith and 
 a larger hope than we know how to shadow forth. 
 To an exhausted brain and discouraged spirit his 
 career seemed at an end. With what glad surprise 
 he must waken, as from a troubled dream, to find 
 that his true career has but just begun, and that the 
 programme of his real service is set down in the . 
 counsels of eternal Wisdom and Love ! As Lowell 
 said of Channing, so let us dare to say of our 
 ascended friend : — 
 
 " He is not idle ; in that higher sphere 
 His spirit bends itself to loving tasks ; 
 And strength, to perfect what he dreamed of here, 
 Is all the crown and glory that he asks." 
 
 We are doubly fortunate in having with us to-day 
 two of the many who have known and loved Foster 
 McCleary, — Mr. Russell, who has just come from 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 33 
 
 Brooklyn to testify to the quality of those labors 
 which promised so much, and Professor Peabody, 
 who knew Mr. McCleary in his student days, in Col- 
 lege and Divinity School ; and from both of them 
 we shall hear words of comfort and inspiration. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Russell followed, and said : — 
 If I remember rightly, I first met Mr. McCleary 
 at a public meeting. I sat near him, and the charm 
 of his voice and his manner easily reached me across 
 the two or three that sat between us ; and when I 
 learned that he was the young McCleary of whom I 
 had heard, and who was then in the Divinity School, 
 I felt at once drawn to him, and rejoiced that there 
 had come to the help of our cause one who had so 
 much vitality, and who embodied this in a form that 
 would surely draw all to him. 
 
 After that I met him frequently, at the Divinit} 7 
 School and in m} T own home, and the charm that I 
 had felt at our first meeting did but deepen as I 
 became acquainted with the spirit of which it was 
 the expression. I found that he had the highest 
 ideal of what a minister's life should be ; that he 
 felt himself set apart by the profession which he 
 had chosen from the standards by which other men 
 were to be tried, and that he required of himself a 
 rectitude, a self-sacrifice, a purit} 7 , a benevolence, 
 
 5 
 
34 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 like that of the most saintly of those I knew, or of 
 whom I had read. 
 
 As through fuller acquaintance I became more 
 intimate with him, I felt how rare a spirit was his, 
 and came to look forward, with the anxiet} 7 which 
 springs out of affection and the knowledge of worth, 
 to his contact with the practical side of the minis- 
 ter's work. 
 
 And yet, with that anxiety there was great confi- 
 dence. For with this severe self-scrutinj' was, first, 
 a tender consideration for others that made him 
 quick to see and reckon all the extenuating cir- 
 cumstances in any faults of conduct or of temper ; 
 and then a sweet reasonableness that put things in 
 their best, and therefore their truest relations ; and, 
 most helpful of all, a sense of humor which is, I 
 think, the saving grace with any tender soul that 
 is called upon to deal with the darker and more 
 wretched side of our humanity, and which enabled 
 Luther and men like him to bear triumphantly the 
 heav}' burden that fell to them. 
 
 He was at my house several times when he was 
 preparing for his summer vacation abroad, and en- 
 tered into the consideration of its details with great 
 enthusiasm. He doubted, of course, whether he 
 ought so to indulge himself; whether he ought not 
 at once to begin the work at Brooklyn to which 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 35 
 
 already he had been called. But he was in nowise 
 unreasonable in this respect, and started on his 
 voyage resolved to get the best out of it, and to 
 enter upon his ministry refreshed and equal to its 
 demands. 
 
 It is from that ministry, to which in due time he 
 returned, that I have just come. Last evening I 
 attended in Brooklyn the Boys' Club for which he 
 cared so much, and I am here to tell you of the im- 
 pression he made upon those among whom he has 
 been laboring. 
 
 They sa} T that he was absolutely faithful ; that he 
 was never absent from any meeting or place where 
 it was his duty to be ; that his friends had continual 
 need to restrain rather than incite him. No one that 
 I can find has been neglected ; but where I would 
 have thought one visit sufficient he made five. Far 
 beyond the limits that any one else would have set 
 for his duty he continually went. 
 
 They say he was cheerful. Many of the homes 
 which he visited are dark with discouragement, and 
 misery, and pain. He was a messenger of light to 
 those that sat in darkness, cheering them b} 7 the 
 overflowing vigor of his own trust in the care of 
 Heaven, and by his own confidence in the power 
 of all wretched ones to renew their courage and 
 redeem their lives. 
 
36 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 They say he was sympathetic ; that he did not 
 stand apart from their troubles, but entered into 
 them, and shared, and bore them. I know a farnity, 
 the father of which is a shoemaker, who had long 
 been resident of an inland chVv, there working in a 
 factory and earning a comfortable living. The firm 
 owning the factory failed, and this shoemaker brought 
 his family, a wife and five children, to Brooklyn to 
 find work. Work was not to be found, and grad- 
 ually the furniture, the superfluous clothing, the bed- 
 ding, were parted with to pay the rent and provide 
 food. When things were at their worst McCleary 
 found them. He stood between them and all the 
 woes that threatened. He was untiring in his ef- 
 forts ; till at length work was obtained and a new 
 life began. The wife, sitting in the midst of the 
 goods she owed to him, said : "He came in and out 
 like a brother." Think of that, friends ! Who could 
 ask for a higher title than that of "brother of the 
 poor." 
 
 They say he had great moral courage. About him 
 were those who had long been engaged in the work 
 which he had just begun. But he did not let their 
 greater experience withhold him from saying what 
 he thought to be just and true. They say he gave 
 good counsel to those older and more experienced 
 than himself, because he spoke out of a heart in har- 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 37 
 
 mony with the divine love and truth, and that he was 
 a recognized and regarded leader. 
 
 The}' say he was not only thoughtful of his parish- 
 ioners, but further of his fellow-workers ; that he 
 was quick to acknowledge and praise every effort 
 and sacrifice which they made, but that he could not 
 bear to hear any one mention appreciativel}' what he 
 had done, since no deed of his satisfied his own ideal. 
 Truly he made himself of no account. 
 
 From those among whom he worked come these 
 words of praise and honor. No one else of the 
 man} r who have labored in that field during the last 
 three years has clone so much or come so near the 
 hearts of the people. They rise up and call him 
 blessed. 
 
 The Master said that in that hour when the se- 
 crets of all hearts shall be disclosed, and we shall be 
 known for what we really are, one shall say : " Come 
 ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdoms pre- 
 pared for you from the foundation of the world. For 
 I was an hungered and ye gave me meat. I was 
 thirsty and ye gave me drink. I was a stranger and 
 ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; sick, and 
 ye visited me. I was in prison and ye came to me." 
 The hungry tell me that he gave them to eat, feed- 
 ing both their bodies and their souls. Those that 
 were strangers say that he gave them shelter, and 
 
38 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 friendship, and courage, and a new life. The naked 
 say he clothed them, and gave them hope and trust 
 in God and man, and confidence in themselves. The 
 sick say he was untiring in his thoughtfulness and 
 his comfort. " He cured our bodies and he restored 
 our minds." 
 
 Friends, the poor have had the gospel preached 
 to them. This is the message that I bring you from 
 those among whom Mr. McCleary worked. 
 
 Prof. Francis G. Peabody, of Harvard College, 
 then said : — 
 
 In the little chapel of the Divinity School of our 
 University we hold each week-day morning an in- 
 formal service, where a little knot of students gather 
 to consecrate their daj\ Every morning, in these 
 last years, as I issued from my home to go to the 
 chapel, I met a young man hastening across the 
 open space in front of my house, having walked 
 from his home, three miles away, bright, alert, with 
 the dew of the morning on his brow, and the blush 
 of the winter on his cheek, anxious that he might be 
 promptly there when our little worship should begin. 
 And this lies in my mind as the picture of this young 
 man's life. Lithe and alert he was in mind and body, 
 eager to reach his place, — and that place not the 
 duty of the class-room only, but the opportunity to 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 39 
 
 take part in the simple service of his God. So 
 through his short life he seems to have moved, — 
 quick, alert, responsive, ready, looking not for great 
 tilings to do, but for the duties, great or small, which 
 lay nearest to his hand. 
 
 There are many types of youth who come to our 
 University, and who seem to those who stay there 
 of special interest. There is the son of poverty, 
 risking everything to get an education. There is the 
 rich young man, coming with the privileges of a rich 
 young man into the opportunities and perils of our 
 peculiar life. But of all the types of life to be seen 
 in a great universit} T , the most interesting, on the 
 whole, is the youth who comes by simple force of 
 nature from his home life into the relations of the 
 college world. He is born and bred in the best 
 conditions of home influence and of religious nur- 
 ture. He bears a name honored and familiar in the 
 whole community. He is reared in some respected 
 and revered church. His life moves on through its 
 years of school untainted by the world ; and at last he 
 comes into the college circle. Then he takes that new 
 experience just as it should be taken. He takes its 
 religious influences, and they deepen and strengthen 
 his character. He takes its pleasures and its recrea- 
 tions, and is unspoiled b}- them. He takes its intel- 
 lectual work, and receives its honors. He gains the 
 
40 SAMUEL FOSTEE MCCLEARY. 
 
 confidence of his instructors and the respect of his 
 brethren. And with this maturing life, full of re- 
 sources for pleasure and rich in endowment for 
 usefulness, he passes out into the world, and in great 
 humility puts away the thought of great things, 
 and gives himself up to the life of the business world. 
 It is not for him, he thinks, to lead ; it is for him to 
 serve. And so he tries to serve ; and 3-et, all 
 through it, the call of the ideal is always in his 
 heart, until at last,, with a still greater humility, he 
 turns from the things he thinks he can do to the 
 things which God calls him to do, and with the same 
 alertness of bod}^ and mind he offers himself to 
 these ideal pursuits. With the same devotion and 
 quiet industry he enters into the privileges of the 
 Christian ministry. The ideal of such work ever - 
 recedes from him, and he grows despairing of him- 
 self. The problems and demands of his profession 
 are more than he can bear. Finally, the sheer great- 
 ness of his own ideal overpowers him ; he is swal- 
 lowed up in what seems his inefficiency, and in the 
 strain of life he goes down. What is more pathetic 
 than such a life ? What is there which can seem an 
 unkinder fate? To grow with all the promises of 
 heredity, to pass through the graces of childhood, 
 into the promises of maturity, and then with all these 
 graces and promises to vanish from our sight, — 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 41 
 
 what can be sadder than this? And yet is not just 
 such a disappearance the just assurance of the eternal 
 world. What is heaven for, if it be not to complete 
 this world's incompleteness, and to atone for this 
 world's hardness? Is a life like this to be snuffed 
 out like a candle, and are traits like these to have 
 no further mission ? Are such ideals to be unfruitful 
 in God's universe? It is for just such lives that 
 heaven is waiting ; while it is from just such lives 
 that this world finds it most hard to part. And so, 
 with a resignation which is full of hope, we dismiss 
 this youth from his service for us to that higher ser- 
 vice for which God himself is waiting ; and we part 
 from his living presence with gratitude and reverent 
 faith. 
 
 Professor Peabody then said : — 
 
 I have had put into m} r hands a simple and most 
 sympathetic letter sent to one of the Trustees of the 
 Brooklyn Church by a kindergarten teacher, and it 
 says so much, and with such genuine feeling, that I 
 read it to you just as it comes into my hands. 
 
 202 Seventh Street, 
 Brooklyn, Dec. 7, 1892. 
 
 Dear Mr. White, — I do so much want Mr. 
 
 McCleary's family to know all that he has done to 
 
 help me in the kindergarten work, and how much 
 
 6 
 
42 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY, 
 
 he is loved by the little ones, as well as by the 
 Mission people. There has not a day passed since 
 he came to Brooklyn that he did not come into the 
 kindergarten, and if we were having our songs, 
 he would sing with us ; and if any little child was 
 in tears, Mr. McCleary would take the little one 
 on his knee, and in a few moments all would be 
 sunshine. 
 
 We had such pleasant times talking about the 
 families in the Mission ; and whenever I would tell 
 him about any one in trouble he would always help 
 each one in some way. Whenever there was sick- 
 ness I would always find flowers and some little 
 delicacy in the room, showing that some kind per- 
 son had called ; and I never was wrong when I said, 
 " I guess Mr. McCleary has been in." Onecase in 
 particular illustrates his kindliness. One of our 
 women, a German, was very sick, and one after- 
 noon when I called upon her, she drew from beneath 
 her pillow a Bible printed in German, which Mr. 
 McCleary gave her. He did so much good, and yet. 
 he would never let me thank him for it, saying, 
 "I have done nothing, — it is you who are good." 
 During the Columbus celebration Mr. McCleary 
 wrote me a little note, saying, " as all the world 
 were taking a holiday," he wanted me to go too, 
 and have a good time. Since he came back from 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 4o 
 
 his visit at home I saw that he was not feeling well, 
 but he seemed determined to perform his work. 
 
 Thursda} T , December 1, was the last time I saw 
 him. He came into the kindergarten about 2 p.m., 
 and as 1 was through with my day's work, he sat 
 down and we had a little talk. After a while he put 
 his head in his hands. I then said, "You are not 
 feeling well." He replied, "Not very." He said 
 he would not be down to the Mothers' meeting that 
 evening, and would I please give the key of the 
 piano to Miss Low. I said I was glad he was not 
 coming down. He looked tired ; and when he went 
 he came up to me and took nry hand, and said, 
 "You have helped me so much." About 3 p. m. I 
 went through the Residence House, and saw Mr. 
 McCleary in his room writing ; he called to me, 
 asking if I would come up for a moment, as he 
 wished to speak to me about one family. I went 
 up, and was glad I did, for he seemed to have 
 thrown off the tired look and was quite bright. I 
 noticed that there was no fire in his room, and I 
 told him that I was coming in to-morrow morning to 
 light the fire myself. He laughed, and said, " You 
 can light it for me to-morrow if } T ou wish." I did 
 so, and the room was warm all that da}', but Mr. 
 McCleaiy did not return again to the Residence 
 House. 
 
44 SAMUEL FOSTEE MCCLEARY. 
 
 We shall all miss him so much, for he brought so 
 much comfort into the homes of our people. 
 Sincerely, 
 
 Helen F. Harrington. 
 
 Before giving out the closing hymn, Mr. Ames 
 said : — 
 
 The hymns we sing to-day were selected, not 
 exactly by our dear departed brother, but by those 
 who are nearest to him ; and the3 T seem like the 
 reflection of what was best in his spirit and life. 
 I am inly urged to add that there are perhaps two 
 hundred persons present who do not forget that 
 he often sat with the family in yonder pew ; and 
 that a few months ago they saw his bright face 
 and heard his cheery voice, as he stood in this 
 pulpit on a Sunday morning. More than one of us 
 must sometimes have been reminded of that saying, 
 already quoted, about the young man in the gospel 
 stor}', " And Jesus, beholding him, loved him." I 
 only regret at this moment that we never made him 
 aware how much he was loved and trusted, nor how 
 large a place he had made for himself in human 
 hearts. Let us give ourselves one more admonition 
 not to neglect or suppress- that just and generous 
 appreciation of each other of which we all stand in 
 need, and which it may be even more blessed to 
 give than to receive. 
 
MEMORIAL SERVICE. 45 
 
 The congregation then united in singing the fol- 
 lowing hymn : — 
 
 We ask not, Father, for repose 
 Which comes from outward rest, 
 
 If we may have through all life's woes, 
 Thy peace within our breast ; 
 
 That peace which suffers and is strong, 
 
 Trusts where it cannot see, 
 Deems not the trial-way too long, 
 
 But leaves the end with thee ; 
 
 That peace which flows serene and deep, 
 
 A river in the soul, 
 Whose banks a living verdure keep, — 
 
 God's sunshine o'er the whole. 
 
 O Father, give our hearts this peace, 
 
 Whate'er may outward be, 
 Till all life's discipline shall cease, 
 
 And we go home to thee. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Russell then pronounced the benediction : 
 
 " May that peace which cannot be taken away be 
 with us and abide with us all forevermore. Amen." 
 
 As the large congregation slowly and sadly with- 
 drew from the church, the organist rendered, from 
 Mendelssohn's " St. Paul," the appropriate air, " But 
 the Lord is mindful of His own." 
 
RESOLUTIONS 
 AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 
 
RESOLUTIONS 
 
 AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 
 
 Church of the Saviour, 
 
 Brooklyn, Jan. 26, 1893. 
 
 To Mr. Samuel F. McCleary, — At a Parish 
 meeting of the Church of the Saviour, held this 
 week (it being the first parish meeting held since 
 the death of your son), the following memorial was 
 read : — 
 
 " The Church of the Saviour desires to place upon 
 its records the expression of its appreciation of the 
 energ} T and self-devotion of its late associate pastor, 
 the Rev. Samuel Foster McCleaiy, Jr., its sorrow 
 for his earl} T death, and its sympathy for his family. 
 
 " Though with the church only two months, he had 
 impressed all, with whom he was brought in contact, 
 by his sensitive religious character, and his devotion 
 to his chosen work. Those who knew him best while 
 here bring the most loving tributes to his memoiy. 
 
 " As life is not to be counted by length of years, 
 but b} r the fulfilment of the duties which it brings, 
 7 
 
50 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 his short span of twenty-seven years is not the 
 measure of his life, but rather the abundance of his 
 cheerful giving of himself to others, his earnestness, 
 and his unselfishness." 
 
 F. R. Mitchell, Secretary. 
 534 Monroe St. 
 
 247 Fifth Avenue, 
 New York, Feb. 24, 1893. 
 
 My dear Sir, — At the last meeting of the New 
 York Unitarian Sunday School Union, held Febru- 
 aiy 8, the following Resolutions were passed in 
 memory of your son, Rev. S. F. McCleary, Jr., who 
 was one of the Directors of the Union, 
 
 A copy of the Resolutions is inclosed. I am, 
 Yours truly, 
 
 Russell N. Bellows, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
 The Sunday School Union having met with an 
 almost irreparable loss in the removal of Rev. Sam- 
 uel F. McCleary, Jr., therefore be it 
 
 Resolved, That in his beautiful life and whole- 
 hearted devotion to the Sunday-school of which he 
 was the beloved superintendent, he wielded an influ- 
 ence which can never die. 
 
 Resolved, That in his intercourse with children 
 he was ever bright, sunshiny, and winning, mak- 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 51 
 
 ing them feel that he was always a true friend, 
 to whom they could unhesitatingly come in their 
 troubles, and upon whom they could rely, as upon 
 a rock. 
 
 Resolved, That in his visitations among the fami- 
 lies of the children he was always full of cheer 
 and consolation, bringing many a ray of comfort 
 into darkened lives, and substantial help to many a 
 poverty-stricken household. ' 
 
 Resolved, That to the teachers in the Sunday- 
 school over which he presided, he was always the 
 helpful superintendent, and to the Bible Class ever 
 the faithful and efficient teacher, never sparing him- 
 self in their service. For persistent and untiring 
 effort in the interests of the Mission, of which he 
 was the honored pastor, his memoiy will alwa} T s be 
 cherished by young and old alike. 
 
 W. C. Gardner, 
 Emma C. Low, 
 Elizabeth Gr. Mumford, 
 
 Committee. 
 
 While he was a member of the Harvard Divinity 
 School he joined, with his friend Herman Page, the 
 Trinity Club of Boston, which was then actively 
 engaged in efforts to bring the gospel to the knowl- 
 edge of the poor unchurched people of that cit}\ At 
 
52 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 his death the club framed and passed the following 
 tribute : — 
 
 Boston, Dec. 23, 1892. 
 
 The members of Trinity Club, at their last regular 
 meeting, having heard with deep sorrow of the death 
 of the Rev. S. F. McCleary, instructed a committee 
 to draw up Resolutions to give expression to their 
 sympathy for Mr. McCleary's family, and to the high 
 esteem in which the club held Mr. McCleary. 
 
 The club, through its committee, felt deeply the 
 truth and inspiration of Mr. McCleary's life, as com- 
 memorated in the memorial services at the Church of 
 the Disciples. 
 
 Those of us who had a personal acquaintance with 
 him feel a personal loss. In all our contact in the 
 activities of our club life, his genial nature and true 
 manliness were a help and an inspiration. 
 
 F. Nathaniel Perkins, 
 Josiah H. Quincy, 
 W. Dewees Roberts, 
 
 Committee. 
 
 In the summer of 1890 he assisted Dr. Winthrop 
 T. Talbot in the management of the well-known 
 camp for boys at Lake Asquam, in Holderness, 
 N. H. At this camp the boys enjoyed for three 
 months much out-of-door life, in which athletics, 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 53 
 
 amusement, and instruction were happily combined. 
 Stephen B. Stanton (H. U. 1887), now a member of 
 the New York Bar, who was also an assistant man- 
 ager at the camp, writes to a friend as follows : — 
 
 " Foster was the life of the camp; his presence 
 there more than that of an} T bod3 T or am'thing else 
 has left its impress upon it. He ran the theatricals 
 at the water-sports, and not only planned the whole 
 performance, but wrote for it verses which have been 
 handed down as tradition ever since. He also com- 
 posed, on the moment as it were, a very pretty ode 
 for the Fourth of July celebration there. The camp- 
 fire always awaited his coming with his banjo. Then, 
 too, the energ} T with which he threw himself into 
 all athletics at the camp, especially in captaining 
 the base-ball nine, has made a high-water mark in 
 that field for all subsequent summers. He was an 
 unmistakable favorite with all the bo3's." 
 
 In the " Boston Evening Transcript" of Dec. 10> 
 1892, Dr. Winthrop T. Talbot, who was his compan- 
 ion at school and camp and college, thus states the 
 result of his intimate acquaintance : — 
 
 Samuel Foster McCleary, Jr. 
 A happy temperament, an ability to enjoy the 
 beauty of living, a kindly wit, a keen appreciation 
 
54 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEAKY. 
 
 of humor, and large natural and acquired gifts in 
 music and art are qualities which go far to make 
 a good companion. Unswerving loyalty and good 
 faith, constant thoughtfulness for others, and tenac- 
 ity of all relationships make a dear friend. Self- 
 denying generosity, earnest devotion to lofty ideals, 
 deep and intelligent interest in the common weal 
 make a valued citizen. When these traits are com- 
 bined with an intellectual ability of no mean order, 
 and an unremitting and effective power of work, the 
 value of such an influence in the community is un- 
 measured. In the loss of a man so endowed and 
 equipped, a circle far larger than his immediate 
 family must feel a deep sense of personal grief and 
 affliction. So it is a valued privilege and right 
 to render loving tribute to one crushed by his 
 rigid sense of duty, and devotion to overwhelming 
 responsibility. 
 
 The pure and vigorous personality of Samuel Fos- 
 ter McCleary, Jr., was early felt by a wide acquain- 
 tance. That the promise of his youth is at an end 
 through self-denial and over-application to labor, 
 can bring no consolation to the bereaved family. 
 Friends can offer only silently their sincere and 
 heartfelt sympathy. On the part of old acquain- 
 tances, fellow-scholars at the Boston Latin School 
 and college mates at Harvard University, this ex- 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 55 
 
 pression of affectionate regard is made in remem- 
 brance of one who was known only to be loved. 
 
 W. T. T. 
 
 The following tribute was published in the " Har- 
 vard Crimson," Cambridge, Mass., on Dec. 18, 1892 : 
 
 Obituary. 
 
 Seldom, if ever, has there been a death of one 
 recent!}" among us so widely felt, and so very sad, 
 as that of Samuel Foster McCleary, Jr., of the class 
 of 1888. He was a simple, thoroughly good, schol- 
 arly fellow, beloved b}^ all that knew him. 
 
 His father was formerly city clerk in Boston, and 
 was also a Harvard man. After McCleary gradu- 
 ated he went into business for about a year in the 
 city, when he returned here to the Divinity School. 
 By doing extra work he was enabled to take his 
 diploma this year, — the degree of A. M. as well as 
 the Divinity School degree. 
 
 In October of this year he was settled over the 
 Mission Chapel, a branch of the Church of the 
 Saviour of Brooklyn, N. Y. So earnest and so 
 deeply in sympathy with his work was he that very 
 soon it began to tell upon his health. Despite this 
 there was no end to his activity ; and he daily vis- 
 ited scenes of poverty, and homes of trouble, till 
 his sensitive nature was broken. And even at the 
 
56 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 end, when not himself, he was conscientious and 
 gallant to the last drop ; he paid all his debts, gave 
 directions to those under him, and then, when every- 
 thing was settled, he boarded the Fall River boat, 
 after which he was never seen again. 
 
 At Harvard he was a model student, always bright 
 and cheerful, interested in club work, and at the 
 same time a good worker. He was one of the or- 
 ganizers of the Banjo Club, an editor of the " Advo- 
 cate," and a member of the Pudding and O. K. 
 And although so much with his fellow-students, he 
 got a Detur in his Freshman year, and graduated 
 with honorable mention, and the degree cum laude. 
 The memorial service held at his church on Monday, 
 where there were present so many men, showed only 
 too clearly how he was esteemed here at Harvard. 
 
 The following tribute was written and published 
 in the "Harvard Advocate," Feb. 28, 1893, by his 
 friend and classmate Lloyd McKim Garrison, of 
 New York. It represents McCleary as he appeared 
 in his undergraduate days at Harvard College : — 
 
 Samuel Foster McCleary, Jr. 
 
 There are many born into this world that seem 
 from their first childhood destined for but a brief 
 sojourn in it ; and the very frailty and sensitiveness 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 57 
 
 that often endear them to us serve also to prepare 
 us for and reconcile us to their sudden departure. 
 There are others, on the Contrary, whose health and 
 joyousness in life were so great that no lapse of time 
 after their premature ending ever brings with it the 
 conviction that such fine vitalit}' could perish. It is 
 true that the cruel actuality of physical absence is 
 compelled upon their friends ; but that does not 
 make itself more keenly felt than other life-long 
 separations caused by the hard necessities of resi- 
 dence or profession ; and the mind — which always 
 pictures the absent as they last went b} T its windows 
 
 — puts into the same gallery those who have gone 
 full of hope to labor at the ends of the earth, and 
 those, their comrades, who died full of the same fire 
 of j'outh. Such a one was m} T classmate McCleary, 
 
 — a spirit so blithe, so bubbling over with mirth and 
 cheerfulness and generous affection, that his sudden 
 and untimely death seems not less incredible, as I 
 am now writing, than when I first heard of it, over 
 two months ago. 
 
 It is fitting that the " Advocate," to which he 
 gave his best efforts while in college, and which, at 
 the most gloomy period of its historj' he labored so 
 hard to keep alive, should have a sketch of him in 
 its volumes, which are so full of his work. 
 
 I first knew him in October, 1884, when several 
 
58 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 squads of us were competing for places on the 
 Freshman crew, and awkwardly trying to handle 
 the rude clubs that served as oars in the daj r s of the 
 pneumatic machines. An alert, handsome bo}^ in a 
 big gray overcoat, whose turned-up collar saved him 
 from the icy draughts that swept through the arches 
 in the old rowing-room, came every day and watched 
 us, and talked confidentially with the coach ; and we 
 learned by and by that his name was McCleary, 
 and that he hoped to be coxswain. Vain hope ! He 
 told me afterwards what a blow it had been to his 
 ambition ; but no effort could sufficiently reduce his 
 weight below his rival's. 
 
 In May, 1885, while we were yet Freshmen, we 
 were taken on to the "Advocate" board, at a time 
 when the now-forgotten schism caused by the foun- 
 dation of the "Monthly" threatened wholly to de- 
 stroy the older periodical ; and from that time till the 
 middle of our Senior year we were intimately related 
 with the paper and with each other. In October, 
 1885, McCleary drew No. 16 in Holyoke House, and 
 I continued in No. 23 on the same floor, and thence- 
 forth each had a sort of tenancy-at-will in the other's 
 room and chattels, especially when No. 16 became 
 the semi-public sanctum of the "Advocate," piled 
 up with books, and stacks of papers and periodicals 
 from every college in the Union, and, in spite of its 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 59 
 
 occupant's fastidious neatness, littered with ragged 
 clippings. 
 
 From the moment he became an editor, McCleary 
 occupied a leading position on the " Advocate," and 
 in due time became secretary of the Senior board. 
 It was his task, while they lasted, to read aloud at 
 the Monday night meetings the offerings of the 
 editors ; and his pleasant voice never changed its 
 tone at bad handwriting or poor composition, nor 
 did he (outwardly) grow weary of the interminable 
 task. His criticism of others' work was very just, 
 but so kind and tactful that his severity was never 
 resented. He, was a radical in college politics, — 
 for instance, in the reform of athletics, and the sepa- 
 ration of them from the interference of the D. K. E., 
 which was then notorious, — but he never lost his 
 temper if the board happened to be conservative. 
 
 In addition to qualities which so well fitted him to 
 conduct the paper, he had great facilit} 7 in writing, 
 and extraordinary willingness to work. He always 
 did his own work, and nearty always somebody 
 else's, — and did it with a cheery enthusiasm, as if 
 he relished the imposition. He could write any- 
 thing agreeably, — editorials, stories, light essays, 
 farces, verse, and facetiae, — and his contributions 
 amounted to nearly one third of the paper during the 
 year we edited it together. 
 
60 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 Outside of his editorial occupations, his life was 
 what that of any enthusiastic and healthy boy might 
 be. He was an ardent lover of his college and his 
 class, and a faithful attendant in his time at all the 
 games and class or college demonstrations. He was 
 a good scholar, though if he had not been so good 
 an editor he might have been a better. His athletic 
 ambition having been turned from the crew, he took 
 to bicycling, and became captain of the Bicjxle 
 Club. He played the banjo better than any one else 
 then in college, and together with Scott, Gra}', and 
 Parker, founded the Banjo Club. He was an excel- 
 lent hand at whist, and wrote enthusiastic articles on 
 "Cavendish" for the " Advocate ; " he also played 
 chess well, and was a member of the Chess and 
 Whist Club. 
 
 In person he was small, but well formed and quite 
 powerful, and a very graceful skater and dancer. 
 His face was youthful, but unusually handsome, — 
 a perfect oval, quite smooth, with an olive skin suf- 
 fused with red, curly light-brown hair, and large, 
 gentle blue eyes ; and upon his joining the Pudding 
 he became known as the best-looking " girl " in the 
 chorus, where his dancing and a. very fair singing 
 voice made him additionally acceptable. 
 
 It was by his literary tastes, however, that he was 
 best known in college. His three years upon the 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 61 
 
 "Advocate" served to impress his personality ver} r 
 strongly upon his class, where his occasional poems 
 for class dinners and club reunions were keenly ap- 
 preciated. He was a leading spirit in the '88 O. K., 
 which was then one of the most amusing of societies, 
 however it may since have changed ; and he was the 
 author of many good Pudding choruses. 
 
 No one could know him well and not feel the inva- 
 sion of his personal charm. It was not only his 
 beaut} T of countenance, but the sweetness of his ex- 
 pression, and an irrepressible warmth of manner. 
 His laughter came unrestrained ; he wrung your 
 hand when he shook it, swung into your room with 
 impetuosity, and brought a little breeze of eagerness 
 and expectanc} 7 in with him whenever he came. He 
 was always hurried, and always running over with 
 joy at the merely being so bus}- and accomplishing 
 so much. He was a great optimist by temperament, 
 as well as by reason of his age. He was the cheer- 
 fullest boy himself, and made more other people 
 cheerful than almost any one I ever knew. He was 
 ver}' s}-mpathetic ; but even his expressions of sym- 
 pathy were cheerful, and not a mere adaptation of 
 another's mood. 
 
 Beneath this joyous exterior he had an intense 
 and fervid character. He was very religious, but 
 was strong for voluntary prayers. He was by nature 
 
G2 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 very social ; but the delicacy of bis spirit shone out 
 of him so strong that men were instinctively decent 
 of speech before him. He had a keen sense of fun, 
 but he was by nature serious and ambitious. 
 
 When he graduated, in 1888, he went into busi- 
 ness for a brief period, and then entered the Divinity 
 School, where he took high rank as a scholar, and 
 won universal esteem. We went for occasional walks 
 together, but the old daily intercourse had ceased. 
 I last saw him in Cambridge in the summer of 1891, 
 when enthusiasm for his calling had obtained com- 
 plete possession of him ; and my last talk with him 
 was of its limitations and possibilities. He had very 
 humane and enlightened aspirations, and his consci- 
 entiousness allowed him no thought of his physical 
 welfare. So he entered upon the heavy duties of a 
 large parish in the autumn of last year. The work 
 of the after-world is without limitations to the ambi- 
 tious ; and before McCleaiy's sympathetic vision lay 
 an unending perspective of human suffering for him 
 to cure or comfort. In the over-generous impulse 
 to do it in au hour he sacrificed himself. 
 
 L. McK. G. 
 
 Boston, Dec. 14, 1892. 
 Dear Mr. McCleary, — The members of " The 
 Essay Club " wish to express to you and to your 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 63 
 
 daughters the deep sympathy which they feel at this 
 time when so great a bereavement has fallen upon 
 us all, and also to tell you of the love and admira- 
 tion which they have for him, among their number, 
 who will be no longer with them. 
 
 Many of us knew Foster well. Some of us were 
 with him at school and in college, and have kept 
 more or less closely in touch with him since he en- 
 tered actively upon his chosen life-woik. We have 
 known both the strength and activit} T of his mind 
 and the nobility of his life. His touching forgetful- 
 ness of self and his perfect regard for the feelings 
 and rights of others made the bond between him and 
 us strong and lasting. 
 
 Perhaps it was his lofty enthusiasm for the highest 
 and best in life which impressed us most, — such an 
 enthusiasm as can be born of only the strongest, 
 purest, and most unselfish minds ; and I think there 
 is no one of us in this circle of those, who are glad to 
 feel that the}' were Foster's friends, who has not and 
 will not get inspiration from his friendship and from 
 the example of his noble life. 
 
 Believe us, dear Mr. McCleaiy, most sincere in 
 our sympathy. 
 
 The Members of " The Essay Club." 
 By Thos. Tileston Baldwin. 
 
64 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 Public Latin School, 
 Boston, Dec. 14, 1892. 
 
 My dear Mr. McCleary, — I have just been 
 listening to the beautiful words of tribute to the 
 memory of Foster, which touched the hearts of all 
 and brought tears to the eyes of many. From m} r 
 recollection of him as a boy, and from my knowledge 
 of him as a student in college and the Divinity 
 School, I could most heartily respond to the enco- 
 miums upon his life and character as expressed by 
 the reverend gentlemen. 
 
 I have not ventured to anticipate your conviction 
 of his demise by telling you of our sadness here at 
 school when we read, a few daj^s ago, the account of 
 his unexplained disappearance. We hoped for the 
 best in regard to him ; but this memorial service 
 now convinces us that you no longer have doubts. 
 
 T think of Foster now as we often do of friends 
 when taken from us. We recognize and acknowl- 
 edge their goodness and the value of their friend- 
 ship to us while they are with us, but do not 
 arrive at a full appreciation of their inestimable 
 worth till they are removed from our sight. While 
 in the Latin School Foster was a bright, cheerful, 
 vivacious pupil, quick in his perceptions, abounding 
 in good humor, honorable, and high-minded. He 
 was a beloved schoolmate, and yet, always clearly 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 65 
 
 distinguishing between right and wrong, he had the 
 courage to do the right. 
 
 His career in the school affords all of his teachers 
 a delightful memoiy, and we grieve that his life, so 
 thoroughly consecrated to the glory of his Redeemer 
 and the amelioration of humanity, should be so sud- 
 denly and mysteriously taken from us. But it is 
 God's will, and His will be done. 
 
 May you be comforted in your irreparable loss by 
 the assurance that he won the love and esteem of 
 every acquaintance by the nobility of his character, 
 that his life was without spot or blemish, and that 
 God has taken to himself a soul laden with divine 
 riches. 
 
 We mourn with you, and yet rejoice that his 
 soul is free and beyond the reach of sorrow and 
 suffering. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 Moses Merrill. 
 
 6 Hilliard Street, 
 Cambridge, Dec. 10, 1892. 
 
 My dear Sir, — Though not personally acquainted 
 with you, I cannot refrain from writing you a word 
 of heartfelt sympathy at the loss of your pure and 
 noble-minded son. In September we crossed the 
 ocean together on the " Pavonia," and on the voy- 
 
66 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 age I had a number of long talks with him. The 
 impression he left on me was of a rarely elevated 
 and consecrated nature ; while at the same time I 
 more than once expressed to my daughters the 
 almost pathetic sense I felt of the fragility of his 
 constitution. His aims were visibly so high, and 
 his yearning to do good so intense, that I longed 
 he might have the physical strength to carry them 
 out. 
 
 During the voyage he seemed most of the time 
 inclined to rest, lying at full length in his sea-chair ; 
 but every once in a while we would walk the deck 
 together and talk. At such times I never noticed in 
 him any trace of melancholy. On the contrary, he 
 seemed ardent and hopeful. But he soon tired of 
 exercise and conversation, and would then retire 
 once more to bis chair. 
 
 With health to support him, your son would have 
 proved a source of constant help and consolation to 
 others. Poor, dear fellow ! his spirit overwrought 
 his bod} 7 . But it was a pure and high spirit which 
 could never die, and so is, I doubt not, living in the 
 light of God, and in some celestial service such as 
 he longed to fulfil on earth. 
 
 Believe me, in heartfelt sympatlry, 
 Sincerely yours, 
 
 (Rev.) Francis Tiffany. 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 67 
 
 Extract from a letter dated Dec. 11, 1892, written 
 by Rev. Samuel A. Eliot, of Denver, Col., who has 
 recently been called to fill the pulpit of the Church of 
 the Saviour, in Brooklyn, N. Y. : — 
 
 " My acquaintance with Mr. McCleary was very 
 slight ; but I had not failed to recognize the beauty 
 of his character, the clearness of his mind, and the 
 sweetness of his disposition. I anticipated a useful 
 and happy future for him in his chosen profession. 
 The chance for working with him made the oppor- 
 tunity offered me at Brooklyn doubty alluring. He 
 was the man above all others that I should have 
 chosen for an associate. His ability, his quick con- 
 scientiousness, his devotion to dutj r , his considera- 
 tion for others, his unselfishness, — all made me 
 think of him as an ideal companion in church work. 
 It is a great personal grief to me to hear of his un- 
 timely death. The bright prospect that appeared so 
 enticingly before has become dark." 
 
 Extract from a letter dated Dec. 10, 1892, from 
 Edward A. Church," a valued member of the 
 Church of the Disciples, Boston : — 
 
 " It was my good fortune to meet your son re- 
 peatedly ; and the charm which he exercised upon 
 me when I first saw him in the pulpit of our church 
 was confirmed and strengthened by our interviews. 
 
68 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 I loved him, and had hoped to know him more inti- 
 mately. And now I must wait ! I was deeply 
 impressed by his earnestness and devotion. His 
 religion seemed to be a veritable passion with him. 
 I felt that it was a real vocation, and that he was 
 destined to distinguish himself in his chosen line of 
 service for God and man. His enthusiasm kindled 
 my own heart, and I bade him God-speed in his 
 enterprise, though I cautioned him at the same time 
 against the danger of overtaxing his material strength. 
 It is impossible to explain why his unspent candle is 
 so suddenly extinguished, — why a life so sweet and 
 devoted was not allowed continuance. Certainly the 
 dear boy has not lived in vain. No one meeting 
 him could have helped being benefited by the con- 
 tact, and he has left behind him in very many hearts 
 a sense of sweetness and inspiration, which will bear 
 fruit I am sure, and will embalm his blessed mem- 
 ory. I feel also in an event like this the absolute 
 necessity of another life. A character like his is 
 one of the best arguments for immortality. To 
 create so fine a thing, develop it to so great a 
 degree, and then to annihilate it, would be an 
 absurdity." 
 
 Extract from a letter dated Dec. 18, 1892, from 
 a prominent member of the little society which he 
 
RESOLUTIONS AND OTHER TRIBUTES. 69 
 
 organized at New Whatcom in the State of Wash- 
 ington in 1891 : — 
 
 " We all loved your boy, and he left behind him 
 here a warm place in the hearts of all who knew him^ 
 His earnestness of high purpose, his unselfishness 
 and self-sacrifice, were the remark of all who came 
 in contact with him. The life he led with us and 
 the sermons he preached while here were an inspira- 
 tion to us all. His health seemed so frail that we 
 watched him with anxiety, and feared that the ear- 
 nest active soul would too soon wear out the body. 
 In our memory of him there is only pleasure. It is 
 not often that one comes into my life as your son 
 did. He was with us a short time only, but it 
 seemed as if we had known him } T ears instead of 
 months. I am glad that I knew him and was 
 brought so closely to him." 
 
 More than a hundred other letters have been 
 received by his family expressive of ideas similar 
 to the foregoing. Among them one classmate 
 writes : — 
 
 " His was the purest, cleanest life I knew in col- 
 lege ; he seemed the Galahad of our little set." 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 
 
LETTEKS FEOM EUEOPE. 
 
 THROUGH the unsolicited generosity of a rela- 
 tive, Mr. McClear}^ was offered the sum neces- 
 sary for a voyage to and from Europe and for a three 
 months' sojourn in England and on the Continent. 
 With his friend and fellow-student F. C. Southworth, 
 and Alexander Lincoln, an undergraduate at Har- 
 vard, he took passage on the steamer " Colum- 
 bian " of the Leyland Line. These three were the 
 only passengers on the steamer, and they occupied the 
 only staterooms on board, the steamer being built for 
 the conve} r ance of freight and cattle to Liverpool. 
 
 The}' sailed from Charlestown on the night of June 
 29, 1892, and they arrived at Liverpool ten days later. 
 
 The following are extracts from a few of his let- 
 ters written while abroad : — 
 
 S. S. " Columbian," July 7. 
 (80 miles off the Fastnet, Ireland.) 
 
 My dear F., — This is the 9th day out, and to- 
 morrow night (Friday), if all goes well, we shall be 
 
74 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 safely moored in the Mersey. Our passage to the pres- 
 ent time has been remarkably fine. We left Charles- 
 town at four o'clock in the morning, and only just 
 got out at that. As it was, the pilot shook his head 
 at trying it, and Captain Moore took things into his 
 own hands. At breakfast next morning we were 
 well on our way and out of sight of land ; I felt just 
 a little mite off color, but soon braced up, and have 
 been completely well ever since. None of us have 
 missed a meal since we started. The second day 
 out we struck a fog, and this held with us for four 
 days off and on. It was particularly bad for us, for 
 at precisely the fogg}' times we were in the iceberg 
 region, and Captain Moore told us that he had 
 never known so man}^ icebergs around Newfound- 
 land before. We got through without even seeing 
 one, however. Monday, the 4th, the weather cleared, 
 and it has been clear ever since. The sea has been 
 until yesterday singularly smooth, and I believe even 
 E. could have weathered it with ease. Yesterday, 
 however, a ' ' summer gale " came on and piled the 
 water up in great shape, so that we rolled like a bar- 
 rel. We did not mind it in the least, however, for we 
 had our sea-legs well on. Yesterday and to-day the 
 ocean was grand. It was all new to me, for I had 
 never before seen such large, swelling mountains of 
 water. A trip on the ocean gives one a conception of 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 75 
 
 the vastness of the sea. We have been out nine days, 
 making runs of over 300 miles a day, and yet have 
 seen no sign of land. Sometimes there is a spark- 
 ling phosphorescent glow on the waves that is daz- 
 zlingly brilliant. Yesterday the rain came with the 
 sun, and we had a most perfect rainbow. The sun 
 was well down, and the arch was more than half 
 a circle. The ends went far down into the water, 
 and outside the more intense bow was a second 
 one. 
 
 We have met very few passing vessels. One or 
 two passed us in the fog, and it was strange to hear 
 the whistles, — almost ghostly. One morning we 
 overhauled an American brigantine hove to. She 
 carried a blackboard on her after deck, and on it, in 
 clums3 T letters, was printed : — 
 
 "What your longitude ?" 
 
 We answered the same way, and gave them on a 
 board the results of our noon observation, and then 
 we both took our courses. The brigantine was a ver}^ 
 pretty sight, riding all alone there on a great sea of 
 blue, her spars dipping to the swell, and her canvas 
 billowing out. Once or twice we saw some steamers 
 on the horizon, but have passed none anywhere near 
 at hand. Occasionally we see a whale spouting, and 
 porpoises jumping and diving. Mother Carey's 
 
76 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 chickens fly all around the ship, and we are now 
 getting into the region of the seagulls. 
 
 Everything is comfortable and pleasant aboard 
 ship, and the officers are very kind and hearty men. 
 Captain Moore treats us like dukes, and we have 
 the run of the ship, and make ourselves at home in 
 his cabin. Evenings we play whist with him, South- 
 worth and I generally doing up the captain and 
 Alex. The captain plays the concertina, and often 
 we go on deck and have a sing. At ten o'clock we 
 repair to the cabin, and the steward brings up bread 
 and butter, coffee, and bananas, and we have a tidy 
 little repast before turning in. I had a long talk 
 with the captain one night, as we paced together up 
 and down the bridge, on the subject of religion, the 
 captain having asked me what a Unitarian believed. 
 He seemed to be greatly taken with our ways of 
 thinking, and declared that that had been his religion 
 all his life, but he had never found a minister before 
 who represented his views. The captain is a re- 
 markably good and generous man, and one of the 
 squarest I have ever met. 
 
 The mate, William Logan, is a strapping big fel- 
 low, and a gallant sailor too. He has knocked all 
 around the world, and seen about all of it. He has 
 told me some of the greatest sea-stories I ever list- 
 ened to. It has been great fun for me to sit up on 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 77 
 
 the bridge in the night-watches and listen to Logan's 
 stories. The second officer has been in the Crimean 
 War, served before Sebastopol, and was in the Sepoy 
 mutinj-. I find among all the officers a general in- 
 difference, almost a dislike, of the sea. They take 
 it as a grim necessity. For my part I believe a 
 life on shore would make them scamper back to the 
 quarter-deck. 
 
 We read a great deal. We take our steamer- 
 chairs on deck, and lounge about in ven r comfort- 
 able, lazy fashion. We have read all kinds of things, 
 — for the captain has a little library of his own. 
 For exercise we go all over the ship, — down among 
 the cattle-pens, and fore and aft on deck. There 
 are 800 head of cattle on board, and we lost 11 
 head so far. The smell of the cattle is not so 
 disagreeable; it smells like the countiy barnyards, 
 and the hay gives an added bucolic fragrance. 
 Sometimes it is a bit overpowering near the dining- 
 room. 
 
 The engines of the "Columbian" are superb. 
 The3 r are triple cylinder. The largest is 150 lbs. 
 pressure, — a slight increase over the once re- 
 nowned 91-lb. engines of our fathers. We saw 
 the furnaces the other day, — twelve of them. One 
 is cleaned out every four hours, and the slag or 
 clinkers scraped off the bars. The stoking business 
 
78 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 is the hottest on earth, and I do not see how the 
 men stand it. Logan tells me he has seen stokers 
 falling down on their hands and knees before the 
 engineer, begging him to give them something 
 else to do. Many go insane, and jump overboard. 
 The stokers on the "Columbian" are made up of 
 the lowest element in Liverpool, and the strongest of 
 them do not live more than ten years. That furnace- 
 room was the best simulacrum of hell I have ever 
 seen. Well, to get into a cooler atmosphere, Alex 
 and I are great ball players. We have made and 
 lost about fortjr balls. We make them out of hay, 
 and put a junk of coal inside to give them weight, 
 tying the whole up with rope-yarn. The boat 
 lurches so, and our throws are so uncertain that the 
 sphere, after a hundred throws, generally finds its way 
 overboard. Sometimes we three fellows play " three 
 old cat" with a bat. On such occasions "Pat 
 Murphy," the captain's Irish terrier, plays with us, 
 and often we hit a ball that cannot be found again 
 owing to Pat's habit of walking off with it. Euns of 
 this nature are credited to the batsmen as "runs as- 
 sisted by Pat." Pat is a veritable dog-in-the-manger. 
 He hates to see the cattle eat, and he even snatches 
 the hay out of their mouths. We often turn on 
 the water on deck just to see Pat bite at it and 
 strangle. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 79 
 
 To-day the first mate produced an air-gun, and 
 Alex and I had a match, at which I won. Alex and 
 Southworth play casino, and sometimes I indulge 
 Alex to the extent of a rubber of euchre. 
 
 We have all been very well, and look brown. We 
 have not shaved, so that our looks are prett3 T shabb}' ; 
 but we don't mind that. You may be glad to hear 
 that the cholera medicine came in " hand3\" The 
 third officer was taken down with colic, and I mixed 
 a spoonful in a very little water, and it was the hot- 
 test drink he ever took. It set him on his legs, how- 
 ever, and he showed his gratitude by making Alex 
 and me a lot of canvas balls, all but one of which, 
 however, are now overboard. I tried a similar dose 
 on the foreman of the cattlemen, but his case was 
 further on, and they had to have recourse to the 
 ship's chest. 
 
 I suppose } T ou do not know that Southworth and 
 I are regular officers on board. In order to get 
 passage we had to sign the articles. Southworth is 
 third steward, and I assistant purser. The captain 
 tells us that if we care to remain over in Liverpool 
 till Monday, he will give us our regular formal dis- 
 charges. We hardly think we can wait however. 
 
 On the whole our trip has been a great success. 
 We are really sorry to think we are to sight land in 
 a few hours. The captain on his side says he will 
 
80 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 miss us greatly, we have been so much together, and 
 have had such good times. I am quite sure I shall 
 get nothing any where near equal to the accommoda- 
 tions we have had here. You remember how finely 
 our staterooms are situated. Well, we simply hook 
 the door open a little way, and we get the fine night 
 sea-air. 
 
 Again, the boat is so large that she rides easily, 
 bridging the great waves. She is quite fast too, -— 
 can easily beat all the Boston Cunarders, except per- 
 haps the " Scj'thia," and can hold her own with her. 
 
 The "Columbian" has made on occasions 350 
 miles. Such boats as the " Teutonic," the " Majes- 
 tic," and the " Umbria," and the "City of Paris" 
 make about 500 miles a day. The passage is not 
 so comfortable however ; and I am quite sure that 
 when I take the "Servia" on the 17th of Septem- 
 ber, — a fine but wet craft, — I shall miss the com- 
 fort of this staunch cattle-steamer. 
 
 London, W. C, July 13. 
 My dear C. , — A postal following my steamer- 
 letter told of my arrival in Liverpool, and I will take 
 up my journal from that point. We took a third- 
 class compartment on the London express. The 
 English trains, as you know, are very long, and each 
 car is divided sectionally with doors on sides, which 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 81 
 
 are regularly locked after you are in. Each compart- 
 ment holds ten, — five on a seat, half riding backwards. 
 In first and second class there are fewer in the com- 
 partments. Our third-class car was very clean, neat, 
 and comfortable. The country between Liverpool 
 and London was generally quite pretty, -^-diversified, 
 like our Massachusetts landscape. The great dif- 
 ference, however, is in the houses. There are no 
 frame houses in the country ; everything is of stone 
 or brick, and most of the houses are covered with 
 ivy or vines, and there are deep hedges both around 
 the gardens and along the country roads. The houses 
 and grounds look trim and snug and very picturesque. 
 They are commonly low and rambling. The trains 
 go about as fast as ours, and we found ourselves in 
 London all of a sudden. I supposed that we should 
 come into suburbs, as you do in case of New York, 
 Philadelphia, and Chicago, but we thundered right 
 into the city. It was about 8.30 in the evening ; 
 but as it never gets dark here till after nine, we 
 were not very much bewildered. Mr. C. had given 
 us an address, and we called the omnipresent hansom 
 and went in search of lodgings. No. 4 Bernard 
 Street finally caught us. The name of the landlacty 
 is one dear to your heart, — Mrs. M. Mrs. M. is a 
 character — regularly " Dickens}*," whining, rising 
 accent in her talk. 
 
82 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEAEY. 
 
 We did not let out that we were Americans till 
 after we 'd agreed on the terms. When Mrs. M. found 
 out we were from America she could n't credit her 
 ears, " Now are you, now? " And when we had re- 
 turned from supper to our lodgings she met us at the 
 stairway and asked with sober curiosity, " Now, are 
 you truly Americans?" I told her I was a full- 
 blooded Boston boy, from a State that had been fore- 
 most in licking John Bull. Mrs. M. and Miss M v I 
 fanc} r , are good people, but they are fearfully slow. 
 Now, as to the lodgings. We are right round the 
 corner from Russell Square. If I'm not mistaken 
 R. S. is where Thackeray lodges the Sedleys in his 
 " Vanity Fair." It is very central, — occupying (geo- 
 graphically) about the same place as Mt. Vernon St. 
 does in Boston. Our rooms are not yerj elegant, — 
 one window, and a ceiling that would give father a 
 fit. Our one bed is built on the pudding-dish style, 
 and Frank and I have to forego the bolster so as to 
 place it fore-and-aft in the bed to keep us from roll- 
 ing together. Breakfast is served in our rooms and 
 we eat in our pajahmas. We make it sumptuous by 
 buying cream and strawberries the night before. 
 Strawberries are delicious here, and we buy them for 
 6d. a lb. ! Our lunches and dinners we get wher- 
 ever we happen to be at meal hours. London abounds 
 in good chop-houses, and we can get the finest rump- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 83 
 
 steak dinner with vegetables and ices for one-and-six 
 (one shilling and six pence, equal to thirt} T -five cents) . 
 We very seldom have an} T napkins, and we alwa}'s 
 have to pa}- for butter as well as bread. The Eng- 
 lish money I am slowly getting through my head. 
 There's a florin (two shillings) and a half-crown 
 (two and a half shillings), that look very much alike, 
 and I am continually getting them mixed. Then 
 there 's a crown, about as large as a silver dollar, 
 the gold half-sovereign, and the sovereign. When 
 sovereign is used in the plural the name changes to 
 pound. No one here ever speaks of one pound, — 
 it is always a sovereign. The penny is a great awk- 
 ward thing that I always hasten to get rid of on 
 omnibuses and tips. 
 
 I do not know where to begin to tell 3-ou about 
 London. I am quite carried away with it, and I 
 think largely because it is so like Boston. I fancied 
 it would be a whirling, rushing place like New York, 
 but there is absolutely none of that hurried and break- 
 neck pace. Londoners do not seem to hurry ; the 
 men mostly wear silk hats and walk and ride leis- 
 urely, as though the world was working for them. 
 The London streets are twisting and crooked, and 
 there are multitudes of bj -lanes and courts, and 
 places such as there are in Boston. Just as in Bos- 
 ton, things have a substantial, settled air ; every- 
 
84 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 thing has the ages under it or back of it. The city 
 has grown slowly and steadily from an aristocratic 
 past, and every nook and corner of the heart of the 
 city has its historic associations. Certainty Boston 
 is our American London. But London does not take 
 up with all the new ideas of the year. The Londoner 
 prefers the omnibus to the electric car ; and so you 
 see thousands of omnibuses of all colors prying here 
 and there all over the city. There is room for four- 
 teen on top and twelve inside, and no one is allowed 
 to stand ; hence the ethics of giving up one's seat is 
 not known in London. If you give up your seat 
 you simply have to step orT the omnibus (although I 
 have seen a man or two on the step), The omni- 
 buses are frightfully covered with signs all over, and 
 the}^ are lurid, glaring ones, — soap advertisements 
 of varied hues, leaving hardly room for the legiti- 
 mate street signs. It's a very queer and interesting 
 sight to sit on the top of one of these 'busses and 
 look at the passing pyrotechnic displays. They 
 come along one after another, — always keeping to 
 the left and always moving at a slow trot. I have 
 not seen a fast moving vehicle (except an occasional 
 hansom) since I've been here. Another strange 
 thing, — every one is polite ; the conductor regularly 
 thanks you every time when you give him the fare. 
 It is not that servile politeness that expects a fee, 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 85 
 
 but a politeness that custom has made natural. It 
 is a pleasure to go shopping ; you are always treated 
 like a gentleman, from the greengrocer's boy up. 
 The London police are dressed like ours, but they 
 have a more military carriage, and are far more intel- 
 ligent. Everybody seems willing to give informa- 
 tion, and we ask for enough of it. All this that 
 I have written is very prosaic, I know, and I will 
 hurry on to our walks in London. Sunday the 10th 
 was our first morning in London, and we struck for 
 St. Paul's Cathedral, — a most imposing pile, built 
 in the reign of Queen Anne by Sir Christopher 
 Wren. I shall not describe it, nor indeed any of 
 the big buildings I have seen, for it would be dull 
 reading without the pictures. The singing was 
 good, but the sermon veiy pros}' and poor. Neither 
 Frank nor I could get into a worshipful attitude. 
 There did not seem to be the cordialit}- of worship 
 in that cathedral. I was disappointed, for I ex- 
 pected to be impressed. The service was mechani- 
 cally droned out, and there was a monotony about 
 it all that really tired me. On coming out, how- 
 ever, I saw the tomb of General Gordon, and that 
 was inspiring. The sarcophagus is capped by the 
 recumbent figure of Gordon, — exquisitely moulded 
 and cast in bronze ; the whole is dignified, restful, 
 and immensely impressive. London must have wor- 
 
86 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 shipped Gordon. There are ivy wreaths on his tomb, 
 and a statue in the finest of London squares — Tra- 
 falgar. St. Paul's is full of the most interesting 
 monuments, and ones that father would understand 
 about and enjoy. I have wished him with me many 
 a time. In the afternoon we went to Westminster, 
 and I was fortunate in getting the last empty seat in 
 all that great cathedral. Canon Farrar preached, 
 and the sermon was good, — Farrar's sermons are al- 
 ways finely written, — and he preached it for nearly 
 all it was worth. I had heard him once before, when 
 he came to Cambridge. Again I was disappointed 
 in not being raised out of myself. The Cathedral 
 itself of course awes one ; the service does not. 
 Evening, however, had better things in store for us. 
 We went out to Hampstead and found a snug little 
 Unitarian Church down an aristocratic little lane, 
 called Pilgrim's Lane. We were a little late for the 
 opening hymn, but came in just as a well-known 
 voice was delivering the first real, heartfelt pi^er 
 we had heard that day ; perhaps the other prayers 
 had been as real as this, but it did not seem so to 
 us ; and then after the choir had sung the Lord's 
 Prayer, — just as they did at Arlington Street, — we 
 went in and saw Brooke Herford again and listened 
 to a good, helpful, wholesome sermon. After ser- 
 vice we went up to speak to him, and as usual he 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 87 
 
 did not know either of ns. As I am used to intro- 
 ducing myself to him I did it for the tenth time, but 
 this time different than before, by pulling out Miss 
 P.'s present and asking him if he knew the writing. 
 He knew that, any wa}-, and then he guessed who I 
 was. We had a good hand-shake, and then we left. 
 He has quite a congregation there. This evening 
 service brought out about three hundred. The 
 church will probably be too small soon ; for it is more 
 of a chapel than a church, — no gallery, only floor 
 space, and little of that. 
 
 When I went to the theatre, Monday night, I 
 got talking with, a man beside me who hailed 
 from Bristol, and showed me photographs of all 
 his family (eleven children). On learning I was 
 from Boston he asked me about Stopford Brooke, 
 and the talk drifted on to Herford. He was a Con- 
 gregationalist, but he had happened to Hampstead 
 a few Sundays back, and had heard Mr. Herford 
 conduct a Bible class, — Joseph in Egypt, etc., — and 
 he was quite carried away with him. He was fifty- 
 eight years old, the stranger, not Joseph, and had 
 lived in Sunday-schools, but had never heard so in- 
 teresting a talker as Herford. 
 
 On coming home from Hampstead Sunday even- 
 ing we came across several groups of Salvation-army 
 preachers. We stopped to hear one of them. They 
 
88 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 are (if I can judge from one example) a little dif- 
 ferent from ours. There is less red cloth and bass 
 drum. The custom here is to carry about a little 
 reed organ, which a young girl generally plays, The 
 speaker was a more quiet kind, and his language 
 was not so much fiery as persuasive. They sang 
 out of Irymn-books and had very decent and orderly 
 meetings. However, this is but one instance. 
 
 Monday afternoon we took a walk in St. James Park 
 and on Pall Mall — famous in Thackeray's stories. 
 Pall Mall is not a mall at all, but a great club street, 
 very fashionable. Sunday we had our first glimpse 
 of Luclgate Hill, Fleet St., the Strand, and White- 
 hall, — all one long street running from St. Paul's 
 with a curve or two west to Westminster and the 
 Parliament Houses. On § the other side of St. Paul's 
 and running east are the famous Cheapside, Corn- 
 hill, and Threadneedle and Lombard streets ; all of 
 which we know by heart now. I am getting quite 
 a reputation with Frank for knowing my way around. 
 Somehow with the help of m} T map I have " got the 
 hang " of the city fairly well in three days. Monday 
 night we attended the Lyceum Theatre and heard 
 Irving and Terry in Henry VIII. It was perfectly 
 superb, — equalled only (in my experience) by their 
 Merchant of Venice, which I saw them pkvy in Bos- 
 ton. Irving as usual was far inferior to Teny, but 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 89 
 
 the whole play was set with minute care and accu- 
 racy, and the fete scene in Wolsey's palace was rich. 
 The London theatre still preserves the " pit." The pit 
 is always 2s. 6d., and it occupies what we call the 
 orchestra circle, only it has no side seats. The 
 women in the orchestra stalls and the boxes dress 
 a good deal, and father could count a good many V's 
 among them. In some of the theatres they charge 
 2d. for program, which is a little worse than charging 
 for butter. 
 
 Tuesday morning we went all over the Tower of 
 London, that is, over all that is open to the public. 
 The bloody tower we could only see from the outside 
 (the tower where the two princes were smothered). 
 We saw the crown jewels in the Wakefield tower. I 
 had supposed that the Kohinoor was kept here, but it 
 is simply a model. Most of the gold vessels date 
 from Charles II. (the regalia of earlier times being 
 melted up during the Commonwealth). The white 
 tower contains a "chronological" set of armor and 
 weapons. The walls are quaintly festooned with 
 sunflowers, passion-flowers, and daisies, made out of 
 ramrods, swords, and bayonets. In the Beauchamp 
 tower we saw the inscriptions left on the walls by 
 the prisoners of State, and the rude scratches were 
 most impressive. These old walls and dungeon- 
 rooms feed one's imagination, if he has any, and 
 12 
 
90 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 send a thrill all over one. It was with a singular 
 feeling that I stood on the little paved square just 
 outside the white tower, but within the tower yard, 
 and read on the brass plate, " Here the Queen Anne 
 Boleyn was beheaded." Many another was beheaded 
 here, and more just a few rods outside the tower, 
 borders on Tower hill. A railing now surrounds 
 the latter, and close to the gibbet site — a paved 
 square similar to that within the tower yard — is a 
 tennis court, a suggestive contrast of tumult and 
 peace, care and carelessness, sorrow and joy. In 
 the afternoon we struck out for Whitechapel — 
 the East End of London, — outcast London. The 
 first place we visited was the People's Palace, a big 
 structure with a hall for concerts, thrown open at a 
 nominal fee to the neighborhood. Connected with 
 the palace are a gymnasium and all kinds of classes, 
 from manual training to the higher branches of prac- 
 tical study. There are regular instructors in carpentry, 
 engineering, electricity, bookkeeping, short-hand, 
 type-writing, cooking, etc. A nominal fee is charged. 
 The idea is to give the sons and daughters of poor 
 mechanics a fair start. The palace does not pretend to 
 cater to the lowest classes but to the intelligent poor. 
 The whole affair is supported by the Drapers' Asso- 
 ciation, — a guild of dry-goods men, I suppose, — 
 and certainly this is a noble vtay to use their surplus. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 91 
 
 From the palace we went to St. Jucle's Church on 
 Commercial St., which has been one of the great 
 centres of social improvement work under the saintly 
 care of Reverend Barnet. Toynbee Hall is right 
 side of it, — a well-fitted-up house where Cambridge 
 and Oxford students go to get in touch with East 
 End work. The house is intended for social pur- 
 poses. The poor are invited in to tea and to play 
 games and listen to musicales and concerts, and to 
 hear University extension lectures. How success- 
 ful this has been I do not know. We have pam- 
 phlets on the house, and Professor Peabod} T two 
 years ago was never weary talking about it. I should 
 judge that the house is fitted up a little too swell for 
 the poor people to take their ease in. One of the 
 students pointed out to us on the map the worst dis- 
 trict in London, and we walked all through it. We 
 were surprised to see how fairly clean things were. 
 We have streets and streets in Boston and New York 
 that look poorer. I do not mean that our people are 
 more poorly off, but their dwellings look more slack. 
 You see, all the houses in London are of brick or 
 stone, and this gives even to the most crowded 
 parts of the city a substantial appearance. There is 
 no such thing as a frame tenement. Doubtless in- 
 side these houses are very filthy, just as the inside 
 of No. 4 Bernard St. cannot compare with the neat 
 exterior. 
 
92 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 This morning (Wed.) we took a stroll across the 
 famous London bridge, the greatest thoroughfare, I 
 suppose, in the city. Then we recrossed at West- 
 minster bridge and took a guide through Westmin- 
 ster Abbe} r . It was a most interesting walk, especially 
 through the chapels that surround the apse. The 
 most superb chapel was of course the celebrated one 
 of Henry VII. Here Henry VII., his wife, and 
 James I. are buried in the central tomb. This is 
 surrounded by a wrought-iron grating, and is con- 
 sidered the finest monument in England. The 
 chapel is the most perfect of the Tudor style, with 
 stone carved ceiling, in existence. I was surprised 
 to hear that George II. was the last king to be 
 buried at Westminster ; all the kings and queens 
 after him have been laid in Windsor. Henry V.'s 
 tomb contains on top a headless effigy. The head 
 was of solid silver ; but in Henry VIII.'s time, when 
 the monasteries were despoiled, this head was stolen, 
 and also many of the relics and mosaics from the 
 shrine of Edward the Confessor. The abbey is a 
 whole encyclopaedia of historic information, and 
 one could write all day about it. Longfellow has a 
 place in the Poets' Corner, and Lowell is to have one, 
 I believe. In the afternoon we took a walk west- 
 ward through St. James's Park to Buckingham Palace, 
 — the winter residence of the queen, then through 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 93 
 
 Green Park aud Hyde Park (the fashionable drive), 
 then to Kensington Gardens, where Victoria has put 
 up a most elaborate memorial to Albert her hus- 
 band, which is in unpleasant contrast to the simple 
 statues of greater men. Then we found Kensing- 
 ton Palace, a very old pile built of brick largely, the 
 home of the Countess of Teck (Princess Mary). 
 Walking further west we got to the famous Holland 
 House, but were not allowed to go into the grounds. 
 As we wanted to see the swell residences in South 
 Kensington we took a cab for an hour and drove 
 in and around ever} 7 where, and there was a very 
 strong impression made on our minds of the con- 
 trast between East and West London. The houses 
 we saw were fine, but not superior to what we have 
 up Chestnut Hill way, — Beaconsfield terrace, for 
 instance ; but as there were streets on streets of just 
 such fine blocks, the sight is a fine one. Driving 
 home on a 'bus we came through the renowned Picca- 
 dilly, a London Beacon St., nearly a mile long and 
 thronged with silk hats. 
 
 Trafalgar Square is an imposing one. It is in 
 Charing Cross. On the north is the National Gal- 
 lery of Arts, and in front a superb Corinthian col- 
 umn one hundred and fifty feet high, crowned with 
 a statue of Nelson. Nelson and Wellington are the 
 favorite subjects for London sculptors. I have 
 
94 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 counted at least four statues of the great duke, — 
 one on a great pillar something like, but inferior to, 
 the Nelson monument ; one in Hyde Park, repre- 
 senting Achilles, and dedicated to the Duke, made 
 out of cannon taken at Salamanca, Waterloo, etc., 
 and two equestrian statues. In Trafalgar Square 
 is also a statue of General Gordon, who was killed, 
 3 t ou know, at Khartoum. In fact London is packed 
 thick with statues, and most of them are of militar} r 
 heroes. 
 
 Dickens' London is slowly getting wiped out. 
 There are a few streets around Holborn that are his- 
 toric ; but London goes through much the same 
 changes that any large city does, always, however, 
 preserving its air of good old age. The names of the 
 streets are very fascinating. I have hardly met a 
 prosaic one. All have had a history, — Aldgate is 
 old gate, Cheapside, market-road, etc. Queensgate, 
 Whitehall, Holborn, Tottenham Court Road, Piccadilly, 
 Pall Mall, Cheapside, Cornhill, Minories, and Ken- 
 sington Road have a quaint historic smack. Well, 
 I '11 break off here, for you must be weary. This is 
 not like the usual London letter, but I thought you 'd 
 care more for these every-day items than for descrip- 
 tions of things that cannot be described. We have 
 seen only a bit of London so far, and have yet to see 
 the Temple, British Museum, Regent's Park, Ro} T al 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 95 
 
 Acadeni}', and National Museum of Art ; but for 
 three da} T s we have seen a good deal and have a 
 very fair idea of the city. 
 
 We leave for Paris to-morrow or Saturday via 
 Newhaven and Dieppe, and up through Normandy, 
 stopping over at Rouen, perhaps. 
 
 Paris, July 18, 1892. 
 My dear H., — The last letter I wrote found me 
 just starting for this fascinating chVv. "We thought 
 we would try third class on the cars, and second on 
 the steamer. The third on English soil is very good ; 
 but the Continental third is a different thing. The 
 seats are of hard wood, and the backs perfectly 
 straight. If you took the cushions out of the pews 
 in King's Chapel, you would get an idea of a third- 
 class compartment. The channel passage, which 
 lasted about five hours, was very smooth, and I 
 managed to steal a little sleep. The electric lights 
 were on full force, and man} r of the passengers sat 
 up all night reading. We arrived at Dieppe about 
 three in the morning, and had our first experience 
 in talking (or mangling) French. Occasionally we 
 were understood. On the way to Paris we dropped 
 off for two trains at Rouen, and I am very glad we 
 did. Rouen is one of the most attractive and provin- 
 cial cities I have ever seen ; everything about it is 
 
96 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEAKY. 
 
 quaint. The newest styles there are old-fashioned, 
 and the streets are narrow and framed with rows on 
 rows of high-gable roofs. We strolled through the 
 outskirts of the city, and there struck a peasant who 
 showed us round. I asked him to show us the place 
 where Joan of Arc was burned, and he took us down 
 to the market-place, — as quaint a nook as I ever 
 expect to see on this earth. It was just the market- 
 place you read of in novels, — a broad open circle in 
 the busiest part of the city. Here all the people 
 come together to barter, and they bring their pitch- 
 ers here, too, to be filled at the fountain. At Eouen 
 the fountain commemorates the burning of Joan, and 
 her statue surmounts it. It was beautifully decorated, 
 the 14th of July having just passed. I took a kodak 
 of it, and I do hope it will come out well. Our guide 
 showed us the tower where Joan was confined. 
 Rouen made the Lorraine maiden very real to us. 
 Next we went to the magnificent cathedral, the finest 
 one we have yet seen, more imposing than either 
 Westminster or St. Paul's or Notre Dame. It was 
 early Mass, and we passed little knots of worship- 
 pers scattered about the nave and transept. This 
 voluntary church-going on a week-day and at an early 
 hour made the vast cathedral seem more like a house 
 of prayer than does Westminster or St. Paul's. We 
 saw here the tomb where the heart of Richard I. is 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 97 
 
 buried (though I am disposed to doubt it), also the 
 burial-place of Richard's brother. Then we paid a 
 couple of francs and went up the high central steeple 
 that rises far up beyond the fagade towers. I do not 
 know how high it was, but there were 834 steps. 
 The city la} r at our feet like a large map, and the 
 Seine ran across it like a silver ribbon. The country 
 runs off flat for miles and miles to the horizon, so 
 that the plan of our map was a perfect circle. Com- 
 ing down from the cathedral tower, we went to the 
 open square of the Hotel de Ville, and saw a rather 
 poor statue of Napoleon on horseback, and on the 
 way back to the depot a very striking fountain. We 
 were about three hours in Rouen, but we saw a great 
 deal in that time. From Rouen to Paris we passed 
 through a veiy pretty country, with characteristic cot- 
 tages, high-gabled, with thatched roofs, and wooden 
 frames plastered. The women seemed to be doing 
 as much work in the fields as the men. You do not 
 see in North France great plains of wheat or corn. 
 The French plant in small squares, and often the 
 wide champaign looks like a checker-board, with the 
 different colored grain-tops. 
 
 We got into Paris about noon Saturday, and took 
 a cab straight for the Prince Albert Hotel, recom- 
 mended by Mr. C, where we got a fine front room 
 and two beds, for five francs a day. Just as in Lon- 
 13 
 
98 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 don, we have to use candles, only we pay extra for 
 lights in Paris. We lost no time after getting our 
 luggage landed, but went out, and the first thing we 
 saw was the column Venddme, raised to celebrate 
 Napoleon's victories in 1805, made out of captured 
 cannon. Everywhere in Paris you could see the 
 tricolor flying, thousands of them (14th of July, fall 
 of the Bastille). We then walked through the gar- 
 dens of the Tuileries, where the celebrated palace 
 used to be, and from there to the Louvre, — the 
 beautiful art museum of Paris, corresponding to the 
 British Museum in London. We were pretty well 
 tired by evening, and went to bed early. Sunday 
 we went straight to Notre Dame ten o'clock Mass. 
 The organ was filling the great church with fine music 
 as we came in, and for the first time I was thoroughly 
 impressed with the religious mystery of a Catholic ser- 
 vice. The service outside of the music, however, did 
 not appeal to me. Notre Dame, with its twin mas- 
 sive stone towers and beautiful rose window and its 
 flying buttresses, is a fine pile. It is situated on an 
 island of the Seine, approached by several bridges. 
 Sunda} r in Paris is like any other day. The shops 
 are mostly open, and all the public buildings except 
 those of the Government. It seems queer to see 
 people trying on shoes on Sunday, or to walk 
 through the arcades of the Palais Royal and be be- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 99 
 
 set by dealers who want you to buy out their stock- 
 in-trade of cheap jewelry. The art galleries are 
 thronged Sundays ; they are closed on Mondays, 
 that being the usual day for cleaning the public gal- 
 leries. After service at Notre Dame we went to the 
 Louvre, and saw that wonderful statue the Venus de 
 Milo. It is placed at the end of a long gallery of 
 statues, and is set off by a dark-red curtain. It is 
 certainly a wonderfully noble work, and is beauti- 
 ful even in its wrecked condition. , The Venus is far 
 more satisfactoiy than the figures on the T3 r mpanum 
 of the Parthenon (the Elgin marbles), which we saw 
 in London ; for in the case of the latter most of the 
 heads were gone, while the head of Milo is almost 
 perfect. For lunch we went to the Palais Royal, — 
 a palace that has seen better days. Owing to his 
 being hard up one of its princely proprietors some 
 few years ago let out the ground-floor arcades to 
 shopmen, and it is filled with venders of cheap 
 jewelry. The open court within is very beautiful 
 with fountains and shrubbeiy. It used to be a fash- 
 ionable lounging-place. We ate our lunch out-doors 
 at one of the many little tables that are set out in 
 front of Paris restaurants. It was a charming way 
 to take lunch, and we took our leisure just as a native 
 Parisian would. After lunch we took a 'bus and 
 rode through the Place de la Concorde, — the place 
 
100 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 where Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette were be- 
 headed, with two thousand others. This is a beauti- 
 ful square. A large Egyptian obelisk stands in the 
 middle, and all around the border are statues of the 
 large cities of France, — allegorical figures. There 
 are eight in all, if I can recall them, — Strasbourg, 
 Rouen, Lille, Brest, Marseilles, L} T ons, Nantes, 
 and Bordeaux. The interesting thing is that the 
 Strasbourg monument is completely smothered with 
 flowers and wreaths and crape. It is a very signi- 
 ficant mirror of the French spirit. Ever since Alsace 
 and Lorraine were lost to the French in 1871, France 
 has burned to get these provinces back. They keep 
 the Strasbourg monument draped in black always, I 
 think, and on such a fete day as the " 14th Juillet " 
 they load it down with decorations. From the Place 
 de la Concorde we went straight up through the 
 Champs Elysees — a park not half so beautiful as 
 our Public Gardens — to the great Arc de Triomph, 
 the largest in the world, erected in honor of Napo- 
 leon's victories. It is called the arch of the " star," 
 since so many avenues branch from it. At the other 
 end of the avenue near the Louvre is a smaller and 
 older arch, copied from that of Severus at Rome. 
 This walk from the Arc de Triomph to the Louvre is 
 about a mile and a half long, and is the grandest 
 thing I ever saw. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 101 
 
 After climbing the Arc de Triomph we thirsted 
 for a higher climb, and so set off for the Eiffel 
 Tower. It took us over two hours to get up to the 
 top landing, there were so many ahead of us. The}' 
 take you up in an elevator direct to the second plat- 
 form, — 376 feet ; then you take an elevator half- 
 wa}' to the third ; then change for the last half, — 
 863 feet, 122 feet from actual summit. It cost us 
 two francs each, — half-price since it was Sunda}\ 
 The horizon was fast closing in with clouds, and we 
 did not really have so fine a view as we had had on 
 lower heights. The height, however, was tremen- 
 dous, — over three hundred feet more than our own 
 Washington Monument, the second highest in the 
 world. On the top of the Eiffel are a number of 
 booths where they sell souvenirs and photographs. 
 There is a gallery there, and you can have your pic- 
 ture taken up in the clouds if you like. Another 
 place we visited in the afternoon was the Place de la 
 Bastille. The Bastille of course is complete!}- wiped 
 out ; but on the original site you can see the ground- 
 plan traced on the pavement (just as the spot where 
 the Boston massacre occurred is marked on State 
 Street). Climbing the Bastille Column, which stands 
 in the centre of the square, we could see this ground- 
 plan very plainly. 
 
 It is great fun to go through the gardens of the 
 
102 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 Tuileries and see the knots of women who come 
 there for the afternoon to rest and gossip. The}' 
 charge two cents for a chair in the garden, as we 
 found to our surprise on sitting down one afternoon. 
 Here you see all the world passing by you ; and one 
 of the most curious sights is to see the French sol- 
 diers. They are very gaudily dressed, — white epau- 
 lets, blue coat, flaming red trousers cut wide at the 
 hips and tapering down to the white gaiters worn 
 over black boots. I saw one looking at the Stras- 
 bourg monument yesterday, and as he gazed he 
 straightened himself up enough to freeze an}' pos- 
 sible German that might be passing. 
 
 Monday morning, as all the art galleries were closed, 
 we took a 'bus and rode the length of the principal 
 bouleyard, — a boulevard that goes b}' several names, 
 but perhaps the best known of them is the Boule- 
 vard Capuchins. This is the street where the Opera 
 House stands, and the celebrated Cafe' de Paix, 
 where Dumas, Sardou, Meissonier, etc. dine. We 
 then went across the Seine, and prowled along 
 among the open book-stalls that for quite a distance 
 line the left bank of the Seine. These book-stalls 
 are siinpl}- square boxes set in a row on top of the 
 stone wall. Next we strolled down to the Luxem- 
 bourg Palace in the Latin quarter, — a large build- 
 ing built by Marie de Medicis (the art gallery was 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 103 
 
 closed), and sauntered through its beautiful gar- 
 dens. This garden was a bit too conventional, how- 
 ever. The trees were cut very queerly, so that as 
 you looked through the long arches the open sky at 
 the end was like a curtained window, the branches 
 not quite meeting overhead. Later in the afternoon 
 we took a 'bus to the Bourse (the Parisian Stock Ex- 
 change), and saw what a row excitable Frenchmen 
 can kick up ; the whole thing was a regular pande- 
 monium, and I do not see how an}' business could be 
 done with such an uproar, — whistling, yelling, push- 
 ing, hooting, laughing, and sweating. It was a sight 
 I would not have missed, but I was glad to get out 
 into the comparative!}' quiet streets. The rest of the 
 afternoon we strolled about the Place de la Con- 
 corde till supper time, and then we made for the 
 opera, having bought two seats. The opera was 
 " Henry VIIL," followed by the ballet of " Sylvia." I 
 cannot describe either the opera or the Opera House. 
 I never in my life saw such marvellous dancing ; 
 while the Opera House simply defies description. 
 To begin with, it is the largest theatre in the world, 
 and nearly every country in the world has contributed 
 to its building. From four to five hundred houses 
 had to come down to make room for the Opera 
 House to get up, and this land alone cost over two 
 millions, while the building cost one million and a half. 
 
104 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 The opera lasted from eight till twelve. The waits 
 were very long ; and the front half of the orchestra, 
 where only men are allowed to sit, is entirely de- 
 serted during the waits. Many of the ladies go out 
 and promenade in the balconies of the foyer. The 
 signal for the next act is a very crude one : they 
 knock on the floor of the stage (evidently from the 
 noise, behind the curtain), and in pour all the dress- 
 suits, and the orchestra is filled up in a twinkling. 
 After the opera we had our ice in the Parisian style, 
 and were then quite read}' for bed. 
 
 Tuesday morning we visited the Louvre, and 
 saw the celebrated pictures, notably the " Immac- 
 ulate Conception," by Murillo, to me the most 
 beautiful picture in the whole gallery ; also the 
 " Mona Lisa" of Da Vinci, which I cannot like. 
 We saw, too, the " Erasmus " of Holbein, Raphael's 
 "Holy Family" of Francis I., Titian's "Entomb- 
 ment of Christ," and miles of Rubens' pictures, mostly 
 in honor of Marie de Meclicis. We were all tired out 
 by noontime looking at these treasures of art (I saw 
 Millet's " Gleaners," too) ; but I crawled back to the 
 Salon Carree to get a last look at Murillo's "Im- 
 maculate Conception." Ail through the Louvre you 
 find men and women (mostly women) copying the 
 great masters ; but }'ou seldom see ver}^ promis- 
 ing copies. In the afternoon we went to the Hotel 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 105 
 
 des Invalides and saw Napoleon's tomb (we have 
 an excellent photograph of it). The tomb is situ- 
 ated below the spectator, directly under a huge dome 
 that rises far above one's head. The dome, which 
 constitutes the building, was built on purpose for the 
 burial-place of Napoleon, I suppose. The inscrip- 
 tion on the door leading to the rotunda is, "I desire 
 that m} r ashes may rest on the banks of the Seine in 
 the midst of the French people whom I have loved 
 so well." 
 
 Around the tomb, in mosaic on the pavement, are 
 the names of eight of Napoleon's victories, — Ma- 
 rengo, Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, Wagram, Mos- 
 cowa, Rivoli, and Pyramids. Several stands of 
 captured battle-flags, dingy and torn with shot, sur- 
 round the tomb. 
 
 In a chapel to the left is the tomb of Jerome Bona- 
 parte ; while Joseph lies in the chapel on the right 
 as you enter. From the Invalides we took a 'bus to 
 the Madeleine, — a beautiful church built after the 
 fashion of the Parthenon at Athens. The Madeleine 
 is one of the man}- places in Paris that were the 
 centres of fighting in the time of the Commune. It 
 is surprising how you stumble upon interesting 
 tilings here. We went into an old church to-da} T , 
 and found it was the resting-place of Corneille. 
 Every corner shows up a statue of some well-known 
 
106 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 person. The French statues are not so substantial 
 and satisfactory as the English. Most of the French 
 work is in stone, and the " allegorical" plays a big 
 part. They have raised a hideous monument to 
 Gambetta right in the Place de Carrousel, and it 
 half spoils the walk. The finest statues I have seen 
 here so far are those of Rousseau, Moliere, Diderot, 
 and the statue of France (in the Place de Repub- 
 lique). There is a very fair one of Marshal Ney lead- 
 ing on his troops, erected on the spot where he was 
 executed. 
 
 On the whole, I like London much better than 
 Paris. Of course they are utterly different ; but 
 London I feel would wear better. I would rather 
 live in London (if I could not live in America). 
 There seems to be a lot of show in Paris. Every- 
 where you see the mottoes, " Liberte, Egalite, 
 Fraternite ; " but this is a mere synonym for 
 patriotism. This virtue, patriotism, offsets many a 
 vice. It is the French patriotism that raises the 
 Pantheon, the dome for Napoleon, and the many 
 triumphal arches ; but it seems to me to be often 
 veiy shallow. Their "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite " 
 does not imply the more sober virtues that have 
 built up the English nation. There is little religion 
 in their " fraternite. " The spirit of the times is 
 "go," — excitement, fever-heat. On the statues 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 107 
 
 (14th July) they have such placards as this, "Qui 
 vive? France ! " Of course all this elan makes the 
 cit} T veiy fascinating. You are in the midst of a 
 people that enjoy life (that is, the men do). I should 
 think, however, that the cafes would tend to break 
 up the home-life. Men come to the cafes, sit out 
 on the street at the little tables, sip their coffee 
 or their cognac, and sit and sit and sit. The cafes, 
 however, are expensive ; and it is as well for us that 
 we leave Paris Wednesday night. We have had 
 some odd experiences. It is very hard for us to read 
 French writing, and even if we could, we never half 
 know what we are ordering. I have eaten more 
 strange messes than I can count, and the} 7 are mys- 
 teries to this hour. They charge for everything 
 here, including the tablecloth and napkins. 
 
 It is time to bring this long letter to a close. Tell 
 C. I am enjoying my mail-bag to the utmost. We 
 are both well, and seeing all we can of foreign life. 
 The stars and stripes look very well among the 
 other flags over here, and we are very glad that we 
 have an America to go back to ! 
 
 Kome, July 23, 1892. 
 My dear F., — In my last letter, with its arra} 7 
 of stamps, I took you with me as far as the Paris 
 Morgue. This is right back of Notre Dame, by the 
 
108 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEAEY. 
 
 river-side. The dead are placed on inclined slabs 
 before a large window, so that all can see them who 
 wish. There was no spray of water, and the corpses 
 lay in the clothes they were found in, — about eight 
 that da}' , — a grewsome sight. That night (Tuesday) 
 we tried to get into the Buillet, — a dancing hall in 
 Paris frequented by the students of the Latin Quar- 
 ter. This is a celebrated place, where one can see 
 finished dancing, — not taking part himself, but 
 seated at a table, with ices and coffee, looking on 
 only. Unfortunately the hall was closed, so we came 
 back in the soaking rain defeated. 
 
 Wednesday was * our last day in Paris, and we 
 spent the larger part of it at Versailles. I know you 
 would enjoy this palace as much as anything in 
 Paris. It was the home of Louis XIII. and XIV. 
 Louis XV. was born and died here ; and Louis XVI. 
 was dragged from it in the time of the Revolution. 
 We saw the secret staircase where Marie Antoinette 
 escaped, and the whole suite of the royal chambers. 
 Versailles is full of Napoleon pictures, — frescos 
 on walls and ceilings of room after room. Your 
 Napoleon at Jena is one of a series of great wall 
 paintings. There are also long corridors of statuaiy, 
 and an extensive museum. But it is the gardens 
 that are the most wonderful. They are laid out it is 
 true in a very conventional style ; but the forest 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 109 
 
 walks are perfect ; 3-011 come upon them at all 
 angles, intercepting each other like a nave and 
 aisles and transept. The arches in the trees are tall 
 and graceful, — elm-trees with superb lines. Im- 
 agine a long walk through such a path ! The short 
 arches we very commonly see, but not the tall and 
 slender ones. From the centre of the palace you 
 look out over a boundless extent of garden reaching 
 out over the open to the horizon. From our photo- 
 graph of Versailles (front view, — the plain facade) 
 one would fanc} T the palace dark ; but it is a light 
 yellow. Scattered all over the grounds are moss- 
 decked statues rapidly going to pieces. Going out 
 to Versailles (a fifty-ininute ride) we took a double- 
 decked car, — a queer kind of a vehicle for a rail- 
 road ; but you can see the country from it finely. 
 At nine o'clock Wednesday night we were in our 
 compartments for Italy. Luckily there were but 
 four of us, all men, and we had a chance to half lie 
 down on the seats. We woke up among the Alps, 
 — not the highest ones, — with here and there a 
 patch of snow in the hollows of a tall peak. It 
 seemed odd to see how the lower sides of the moun- 
 tains were cultivated, in places where you 'd think 
 the soil would be too thin. The patch of corn or 
 r3-e or barle3 T was always a small one ; and the gen- 
 eral aspect of a cultivated mountain-side was that of 
 
110 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 a floor of parquetry. We stopped for half an hour 
 at a t} 7 pical French peasant town — Culoz — nestled 
 under the side of high foot-hills. The streets were 
 like those of our Marblehead, twisted and narrow ; 
 and the houses, very miserable affairs, were pictur- 
 esque, with their high gables, tiled roofs, and ram- 
 bling ells. The French and Italian tile is the 
 prototype of those on our new Public Library. 
 Some of the houses had the straw roof. The men 
 and women wore wooden shoes with a strap over 
 the instep. About six at night we got to Turin, and 
 put up at the hotel, and after eating supper we hired 
 a cab and drove around Turin till dark. It is a 
 rather uninteresting place. The principal business 
 is catering to the Italian army. Turin must be a 
 great military post. There are cartridge manufac- 
 tories here, and schools and arsenals and a spacious 
 drill-ground. The streets, which are the cleanest I 
 ever saw, are as straight as those of Philadelphia, 
 but more interesting. We found one striking statue 
 of the Duke of Genoa : his horse struck by a bullet 
 is just falling, and he (the Duke) is shouting his 
 orders and getting loose from his horse at the same 
 time. Victor Emmanuel figures here in the names 
 of squares and streets. In the morning we went out 
 before breakfast to the Champs de Mars, and saw the 
 troops drill, and then started for the depot en route 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. Ill 
 
 for Pisa. From Turin to Pisa Aye passed through 
 some gloriously high and rugged peaks, midway in 
 grandeur between the White Mountain hills and 
 the snow-caps of the Canadian Rockies. The Alps 
 have character ; the}' are something more than piles 
 of rock, for Hannibal and Napoleon and great armies 
 have made them famous ; and it is thrilling to think 
 how they have seen gloiy increase and fade away, 
 while the}' alone are unchanged. At Genoa, where 
 we stopped for an hour, one of those coincidences of 
 European travel you hear so much about took place. 
 We got out of our compartment to get a little lunch, 
 and on coming back we found a new gentleman and 
 two ladies in our car. To read the end of the book 
 first, we are now all seated round a table in a house 
 in Via de Carrozze writing letters home. We have 
 a jolly little house in the healthiest part of the city. 
 The street is very narrow with high buildings. We 
 have three rooms. The floors are of stone and are 
 quite uneven. The appointments are vicious ; but 
 this is universally the case. 
 
 I will now return to the main plot of my stoiy. 
 After leaving Genoa we went through about a hun- 
 dred tunnels to Pisa. These tunnels did not com- 
 pare with the enormous one falsely called Mt. Cenis. 
 We passed through this latter coming from Modane 
 to Turin. It is seven to eioht miles long, took nine 
 
112 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 years to build, and takes twenty-seven minutes by 
 train. We arrived in Pisa about half-past four, and, 
 disregarding the guides, made a bee-line for the 
 Cathedra], Baptistery, and leaning tower. The lean- 
 ing tower was our first venture (all three buildings 
 are together in one enclosure). It was a very odd 
 sensation climbing the tower, though you feel the 
 inclination more coming down, — that is, you find 
 yourself tending alternately to the wall and to the 
 core of the tower. It is not particularly high ; but 
 the lean is startling. On top is a circle of bells, 
 the heaviest hanging on the upper side of the in- 
 clined floor. While we were getting our focus on 
 the cit\- of Pisa from the tower, we heard a muffled 
 drum-beat and saw the flare of red shirts in the street 
 below, and so we sped down to find ourselves in the 
 midst of a funeral procession. It was the funeral of 
 a Garibaldian soldier. First came a crowd of 
 mourners walking very slowly and soberly, in com- 
 pany with half of Pisa taking up the march on the 
 sides of the street ; then a body of Garibaldian 
 veterans ; the hearse an open vehicle with rather 
 gaudy trappings. On top of the hearse was a 
 " shingle," evidently showing membership in the 
 society ; and on each side, from underneath the 
 coffin and shroud, were long cords that the pall- 
 bearers held in their hands. In front of the hearse 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 113 
 
 was a band, and behind it two drummers with 
 muffled drums covered with black crape ; more vet- 
 erans, and then a troop of hoodlums. It was very 
 interesting to watch the procession. The funeral 
 march was very slow, and the people just crawled 
 along. Later in the day we saw some of these same 
 sober Garibaldians half seas over. I think I enjo} T 
 watching the people of a new country more than look- 
 ing at buildings. Leaving the procession, we went 
 into the Baptistery — an uninteresting pile — and tried 
 the echoes. I sang the four notes do, mi, sol, do, quite 
 rapidly, and the echo caught them all, blended them 
 into a perfect chord, and rolled it round and round 
 the great dome. The Cathedral, of the same yellow- 
 ish marble as the others, was fine. Here I saw the 
 chandelier from which Galileo caught the idea of 
 the pendulum ; but the loveliest thing about the 
 building was the paintings of Andrea del Sarto. 1 
 won't weaiy you with them, but I shall bring home 
 a photograph of " St. Agnes." We have great times 
 with the guides. I assure you that the beggars are 
 nothing compared with the guides. The}' thrust 
 themselves upon you. They begin to explain with- 
 out your leave ; you have to simply wave your arms 
 and turn awa} r from their smiles and nods and broken 
 English. One guide dodged us all about the leaning 
 tower, and I sent him off so many times that I began 
 
114 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 to feel badly about it. There is a terribly mercenary 
 spirit afloat here. It is sickening. The pennies you 
 gave me will remain in the bottom of my bag. Every 
 beggar I see I want to give something to, they are 
 so forlorn, yet the times I have done so I have been 
 sorry. I believe American travellers make beggars. 
 Everything is mercenary here. You can go into 
 any cathedral in the middle of service, and go sight- 
 seeing if you wish. Of course a fee is expected. 
 After looking at the Pisan buildings we took a walk 
 on the right bank of the Arno, and looked up a 
 cafe. This was not so easy. We did not know any 
 Italian, and we had to depend on French. In Italy . 
 French seemed like native language to us. We owed 
 one dinner to our knowledge of French, and a fine 
 dinner it was. In the evening we found a theatre 
 surrounded by a garden, where the play of "Donna 
 Juanita " was going on. We got a fine first gallery 
 seat for a franc ; but the play was so uninteresting 
 that we went out after the second act. It was fun, 
 however, to see how the Italians did things. They 
 have a habit of smoking all over the house, where 
 ladies are as well as elsewhere. They are very de- 
 monstrative, and hiss and applaud whenever the 
 mood strikes them. A vender goes through the 
 theatre with a basket of hazel-nuts and salted 
 squash-seeds, and eveiybody eats these during the 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 115 
 
 play. Between the acts there are long waits, just as 
 in France, and out goes most of the house to stroll 
 in the gardens. After the theatre we took an ice, 
 and then went for the eleven o'clock train, — only 
 three in our compartment. We hired a pillow 
 apiece, and were soon on our backs to wake up in 
 the eternal city, — Rome. What we have done and 
 are doing in Hilda's cit} T I will save for another 
 letter. 
 
 Florence, July 28, 1892. 
 My dear C, — Just as I thought particularly of 
 father when I was in Paris, so I thought of you in 
 walking the streets of Rome. We were in Rome from 
 Saturday morning to Wednesday noon, and I have 
 run on ahead of Frank in order to have at least 
 three whole days in Firenze. In my last letter I 
 told you how our little party of five secured our 
 fourth-story room. Well, as soon as we had had 
 our customary breakfast of coffee and rolls, we took 
 a cab and drove to the Forum and the Colosseum. 
 There is very little left of the Forum, which, by the 
 way, is some fifteen feet below the level of the street. 
 The Arch of Severus is in tolerably fair condi- 
 tion ; but only shapeless mounds and broken column 
 bases mark the house of Caesar and the temples. 
 The Arch of Titus still stands firm, and the temples 
 
116" SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEABY. 
 
 of Eomulus and Antoninus. The Colosseum was very 
 impressive, though we were disappointed not to see 
 it by moonlight. As I stood in the arena I thought 
 of the " Marble Faun " and " Daisy Miller." Wild- 
 flowers were growing gracefully in places where fear- 
 ful scenes must have been acted out in the old days. 
 As you know, a large part of the Colosseum is gone, 
 and it is said that half of Rome is built from the 
 great pile. In the afternoon we took another cab 
 and drove out along the famous Appian Way. There 
 is very little of the ancient pavement left, most of it 
 being buried under ground ; but once in a while we 
 would come across a patch of great flat stones over 
 which the ancient chariots must have passed. On 
 either side of the road for miles out of the city walls 
 we saw great ruins of tombs, the most famous of 
 which were those of the Scipios, the Horatii, and 
 Seneca. But perhaps the most interesting thing 
 that we did was to go down through the famous 
 catacombs of St. Calixtus. An old Trappist monk 
 guided us. He had been absolved from his vow of 
 silence, and the way he chatted was a caution ; he 
 must have been making up for lost time. The cata- 
 combs were principally interesting to me from the 
 queer, crude Christian frescos and inscriptions, 
 mosth* of Biblical subjects. In several of the niches 
 we could see the bones and skeletons bv the light of 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 117 
 
 our little wax tapers. As fast as our tapers were 
 used up our monk would tear . off strips from his, 
 which he kept wound around his staff. The old fel- 
 low seemed greatly pleased at my reading the Greek 
 inscriptions, and he showed his two remaining teeth 
 to their widest extent. The old place was dismally 
 damp and disagreeable, and, though very interesting, 
 I was glad to get out "to the upper air" again. We 
 then continued our ride along the Appian Way, get- 
 ting a fine yiew of the Roman Campagna, with its 
 ruined aqueduct columns and its desolate temples. 
 In the evening Mr. L., F., and I went to the opera, 
 got fine seats in the pit, and enjoyed "I Puritani." 
 The average Italian audience is not at all slow in show- 
 ing its likes and dislikes. You hear hisses and hoots 
 mingling with " bis " and " bravo," and through all 
 a wild gesticulation. There did not seem to be an}- 
 of that eating of squash seeds that we saw at Pisa ; 
 but the smoking was terrible. The cast was for the 
 most part stage-struck, and were fearfully awkward. 
 I was rather surprised, for I had expected to see a 
 very vivacious, self-possessed chorus. The opera 
 did not begin till a quarter past nine ; and as we lost 
 our way completer? in getting out, we did not get 
 to bed till about one. Rome is a very hard place to 
 find your way in, and we were continually getting 
 mixed up in the crooked streets. Sunda}- morning 
 
118 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 we took a train to St. Peter's, and arrived in time to 
 hear a service in one of its man}^ chapels. The 
 building was so huge that several services could be 
 conducted at the same time without interrupting one 
 another. The service was not at all impressive, and 
 the special services at the several altars were to me 
 very mechanical. It was ver} 7 funny to see how the 
 different persons in the cathedral kissed the toe of 
 Saint Peter. Some would wipe off the toe with their 
 hands or their pocket-handkerchief before touching it 
 with their lips, and some afterwards. I could thor- 
 oughly sympathize with the former movement. I 
 wonder what the} r 'll tackle next after the toe is 
 gone ; it 's pretty smooth now. All around the 
 cathedral are little absolution boxes, one for each 
 of the principal languages. Here the priest sits and 
 absolves with his long rod. You cannot get any 
 idea of the vastness of St. Peter's till you climb the 
 great dome. Then look down, and the sight is 
 stupendous. People below look like little ink-spots. 
 But the most marvellous thing is the mosaic work of 
 the dome. It is one vast mosaic composed of small 
 stones. The sun comes down dazzingly hot in 
 front of St. Peter's, and is reflected in its smooth 
 marble facade. Southworth was dizzy with the heat, 
 and we finally had to buy cotton umbrellas, which 
 we carried everywhere with us. In the afternoon 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 119 
 
 we went to the Church of St. Peter in vinculo, 
 where that saint's chains are kept, and where you 
 see the original of Michael Angelo's "Moses." 
 From there we went to the place of your curiosity, — 
 the Church of the Capuchins. We first went through 
 the church ; but on trying to go clown to the vaults 
 through the transept we found that the monks would 
 not let Miss S. pass ; it is against the rules. Hence 
 Miss S. and I had to go outside and around the 
 church to a cellar entrance ; and then we were face 
 to face with more skulls and bones than I ever saw 
 in my life before. The}- were piled up in dadoes, 
 and they frescoed the ceilings ; the}' formed niches 
 in which the more recent bodies just dug up were 
 placed in a praying attitude. On the floors of the 
 several rooms was earth from Jerusalem, and here 
 the latest dead are buried, the earliest being dug up 
 for the new inmate. It seems the Italian government 
 has put a stop to nailing up the exhumed bodies. In 
 all there are now about six thousand skulls. After 
 getting out into the grateful sun and congratulating 
 ourselves that we were not Capuchins, we struck out 
 for a gelati shop (ice cream), and then went to the 
 baths of Caracalla, going b}' the wa}* of the Lateran 
 and Santa Maria Maggiore. You may be interested 
 to know that the manger is preserved in Santa Maria 
 Maggiore. We did not see it. After going through the 
 
120 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEAEY. 
 
 Lateran we found the Scala Santa, — the well-known 
 marble flight of steps taken from Pilate's palace, and 
 up which the pious may go on their knees. The flight 
 is covered with wood, and we saw some eight or nine 
 pilgrims making their way slowly up, counting their 
 beads, etc. Under the wooden planks you could see 
 that the marble was badly worn. This sight was 
 really a verj^ touching one. At the head of the 
 stairs is the special sanctuary of the Bambino; but 
 we could not of course see this. The baths of Cara- 
 calla were immense even in their ruins. We could 
 see the remains of the fine mosaic floors, and here 
 and there were suggestions of the rich frieze and 
 glorious statues. It was with such elaborate pleasure- 
 giving indulgences as these, where the rich Romans 
 spent the best part of the da}< , that Rome finall}- fell, 
 and these great ruins tell of the gross decay of a 
 sensuous life. We were very glad to get back to our 
 pension, and get a dish of Mme. Caterina Taglieri's 
 spaghetti. Mme. C. T. treated us very well. We 
 always had our five courses. Fruit was cheap in 
 Rome. For fifteen cents you can buy a dozen fine 
 peaches and a dozen better plums. Peaches cost on 
 the average one and a half for one cent. One of the 
 pleasantest times in the day was at meals, when we 
 would get about our little round table and discuss 
 the things we had seen, and plan for the next tramp. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 121 
 
 Tuesday morning we all started off for the Sistine 
 Chapel. It was early that morning that Mr. L., F., 
 and I climbed up to the tiptop of St. Peter's, — way 
 up into the brazen ball, where the temperature must 
 really have been over two hundred. It would be mad- 
 ness to attempt to describe the wonderful frescos of 
 Michael Angelo in the Sistine. We looked at the 
 ceiling frescos through mirrors, and thus saved 
 breaking our necks looking up. The fresco of 
 Adam receiving from God the breath of life is to 
 nry mind the finest of the lot. Then we went to the 
 Raffael Logia, and saw the " Transfiguration " and 
 the " Last Communion of Saint Jerome." But there 
 was a " Magdalene" by Guidacino that affected me 
 more than an}* of the others. In the afternoon of 
 Monda}- we took a cab to the Palatine Hill, where 
 the oldest ruins of Rome are, and wandered about 
 the remains of the Flavian house and the temples. 
 In the Flavian palace (Domitian's favorite lounging- 
 place) we saw the little room with the vomiting-sink 
 which the emperor and his friends resorted to after 
 a hearty meal. We saw the place on the Palatine 
 where the temple of Jupiter Stator once stood. It 
 was here that Cicero delivered his thundering ora- 
 tions against Catiline, which eveiy Latin-School boy 
 studies. From the Palatine one has a fine view of 
 the Forum. 
 
 16 
 
122 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 Tuesday morning Frank and I went off together 
 to the Capitol, and went up the long incline flanked 
 by the statues of Castor and Pollux. We found the 
 Tarpeian rock, or what is supposed to be it (I have 
 my doubts), and then we wandered about along the 
 Forum waiting for the Capitoline Museum to open. 
 Meanwhile we visited the Mamertine prison, where 
 Jugurtha was confined. It is a dismal affair, — what 
 there is left of it. Here the Catilinian conspirators 
 were strangled, and we saw the hole in the floor 
 down which the condemned were thrust. The monk 
 also took us down the staircase to the room where 
 Saint Peter and Saint Paul were confined. On the way 
 down he showed us a very tolerable intaglio profile 
 in the rock which was caused by the guards striking 
 Peter's head there. Down below in the vault is the 
 pillar at which Peter and Paul were confined ; also 
 a spring of water which came into view on the occa- 
 sion of Peter's baptizing the converted jailers. If 
 I am not mistaken, the best authorities agree that 
 Saint Peter never saw Eome. The Mamertine 
 prison w r as another place we were glad to get out 
 of. We then went to the Museum and saw Hilda's 
 " Marble Faun," which is not overpoweringly beau- 
 tiful, and, more important, the "Dying Gaul" 
 (Gladiator, falsely called). The Capitoline " Venus " 
 I did not like at all. It is really poor, I think. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 123 
 
 Leaving Frank at the Museum, I went to see the 
 famous little temple of Vesta, and then to Hilda's 
 tower. Id the afternoon I lay off and read up my 
 41 Baedeker on Florence," and got myself familiar 
 with the cit}'. I found that Rome was a very difficult 
 place to trace a path in, — more so than either Paris 
 or London. Towards evening I took a stroll up and 
 down the Corso, — the principal business street of 
 Rome, just as the Tornabuoni is in Florence 
 ("Romola"). 
 
 Early Wednesday we all five started off to see 
 Guido's "Aurora," which is painted on the walls of 
 the Rospigliosi palace ; but as luck would have it, the 
 place was closed, and the porter who had the key 
 was on his vacation. We then went to the Pantheon, 
 where Raphael was buried, also Victor Emmanuel II., 
 and saw its wonderful dome, and from there struck 
 out for the Vatican Museum. Here, of course, we 
 saw hosts of the most beautiful marbles, including 
 the " Apollo Belvedere," the " Laocoon," the " Per- 
 seus," and " Mercury." The " Mercury " impressed 
 me as much as any. You ought to see the Swiss 
 Guards that hold the Vatican. They are dressed 
 like harlequins, and it seems as though they must 
 be conscious of the fact that they look like guys. 
 They are dressed in black, scarlet, and }'ellow. The 
 three colors are all mixed in, in stripes ; the legs do 
 
124 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 not match, and great, loose ribbons come down from 
 the belt and fall in folds at the knee. We went from 
 the Vatican back to the Sistine Chapel, then to the 
 Pauline Chapel, and back to the pension at noon in 
 time to eat lunch and be off on the train for my dear 
 Firenze'. I forgot to tell you that we went to the 
 Barberini Palace, where the original of " Beatrice 
 Cenci " is kept, which is truly beautiful, and unlike 
 any reproduction I ever saw. The eyes are won- 
 drously expressive, and full of tears. Here I also 
 saw two fine pictures by Andrea del Sarto, all of 
 whose work I enjoy. We have also seen the statue 
 of Pompey which once stood in the Senate House, — 
 the famous one. 
 
 " Even at the base of Pompey 's statua, 
 Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell." 
 
 It is a superb thing, majestic and grave. It is now 
 in the Spada palace. 
 
 I have given you a dim idea of what we have 
 been doing with ourselves at Rome. On the 
 whole, Rome did not so very much exceed my 
 expectations. I had hoped to find it little less of 
 a stone-heap than it is. It has n't the quaint streets 
 that Florence has ; it is rather very old, and very 
 new. But I'll speak about Florence later. I did 
 not have time to take a walk on the Pincian Hill (the 
 Pall Mall of Rome), nor to visit the Borghese gar- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUBOPE. 125 
 
 dens the Corsim gallery, or St. Paul's without the 
 walls. Considering, however, that I was in the city 
 about four and a half days, I went about pretty 
 widely, and got a fair knowledge of the ground. 
 
 Venice, July 31, 1892. 
 My dear F., — Florence is now a memory, and a 
 very beautiful one. I will give you a bit of an idea 
 of our life there during three very short and very hot 
 days, — Thursda}-, Friday, and Saturday. We hap- 
 pened to strike a fine pension right near the station 
 and within three minutes of the Duomo (the great 
 Cathedral Santa Maria del Fiore, where Savonarola 
 preached). We had splendid rooms here with mar- 
 ble floors, very high studding, the usual assortment of 
 mirrors, and a larger one of mosquitoes. The fare 
 was excellent with some nice Italian messes that we 
 ate without inquiry. But was n't it hot in Florence ! 
 Our umbrellas w r ere always with us to save us from 
 sunstroke, and every little while Mr. L. would re- 
 mark that he really must have a gelati. In the 
 course of some of my rambles I found out a fine 
 gelati place, with music thrown in, and we tinkled 
 our teaspoons man}' a time in sunny Florence. The 
 first morning I got up very early and took a stroll 
 before breakfast. Of course the first thing I started 
 for was the Ponte Vecchio, — that old bridge 3011 see 
 
 J 
 
126 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 so many pictures of, and which is mentioned so 
 many times in " Romola." It is a most picturesque 
 pile with its three central open arches, and then its 
 hubbly rows of little houses projecting over the 
 water on either side. This bridge has been held by 
 the goldsmiths since the fourteenth century, and as 
 I came along in the early morning the shopkeepers 
 were lifting off their crude, heavj T shutters, and put- 
 ting their jewelry to rights. It is a great thorough- 
 fare, for the bridge is really the connecting link 
 between the two great picture galleries, — the Pitti 
 and the Uffizi. 
 
 The "horses" are largely donkeys here, and it 
 is very odd to see a big load pulled along by a 
 little bit of an ass. Sometimes the drivers tie the 
 bundles of feed on to the shaft where the donkey 
 can pull at it and munch as he plods along. Some- 
 times the hay is carried on the tops of the wagons. 
 Passing over the Ponte Vecchio I ran plump into 
 the Via de Bardi where Romola lived, and a little 
 farther on came across Machiavelli's house. After 
 breakfast I urged Mr. L. and the S/s (Frank was still 
 in Rome) to come with me to San Marco and see 
 the most interesting thing in Florence (leaving the 
 Pitti and Uffizi till we five were together). This 
 monastery had been the one thing I had been long- 
 ing to see, and it fully came up to my expectations. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 127 
 
 First we went to the Church of San Marco, where 
 Savonarola preached so many times, and saw there 
 the tombs of Pico de Mirandola and Politian ("Ro- 
 mola "), and then to the cloisters themselves, where 
 the great preacher had his first audiences, and where 
 Lorenzo de Medici used to come to hear him, and 
 hear himself berated. The cloisters are beautiful, 
 and the historical associations made them thrilling to 
 me. I saw there the really touching frescos of Fra 
 Angelico, — a great deal of crude drawing in the 
 figures, but marvellous spiritual depth and loveliness 
 in the faces. Then we went upstairs and visited the 
 cells, each with its stone floor and little iron wicket 
 and its one fresco. Savonarola's cell had three frescos 
 by Bartolommeo. It was fine to feel yourself really in 
 the room where this most wonderful maker of Flor- 
 ence used to make up his most thrilling sermons, — 
 to see his Bible and the delicate foot and margin notes, 
 his crucifix, and his old desk. I could hardly tear 
 myself away from the place. There was the first 
 library of Italy, nourished bj r S., and we walked 
 through rows and rows of fine illuminated missals. 
 Right across the way from San Marco is the Acad- 
 enry of Arts, and we stopped in for a moment to 
 see the great statue of " David," by Michael Angelo. 
 The heat was so tremendous in- Florence that we 
 had to take rests in the middle of the day after lunch 
 
128 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 in order to be in trim for the afternoon and evening. 
 Our rooms were more quiet than those in Rome, and 
 we could take naps fairly easily. I should have 
 slept well into the afternoon the first da}' if Miss S. 
 had not roused me up with the suggestion of a drive 
 to the Boboli gardens. I told her I would go if she 
 would go to the Church of San Lorenzo first. Here 
 is where the homeless cats of Florence are fed every 
 day at noon, something the way the pigeons have 
 a free lunch at St. Mark's, in Venice. We did n't go 
 to see the cats, however, but the new sacristy by 
 Michael Angelo, where his statues of Night and Day 
 (decorating the tomb of Inhau, one of the everlasting 
 Medici family) are. There are some stunning statues 
 here, — some of them unfinished, and the more inter- 
 esting on that account. You cannot help wondering 
 how Michael Angelo did so much. San Lorenzo 
 really amounts to being the big tomb of the Medici 
 family. The Boboli gardens did not amount to much. 
 They spoil their parks here by laying them out so 
 conventionally. The good thing about the Boboli 
 gardens was that they were up so high that we got 
 a fine view of Florence ; but a much better view was 
 in store for me. What I enjoyed the most in Flor- 
 ence (after San Marco) was to go out in the evening, 
 just as I had done in Paris, and watch the people. 
 Down in the Piazza Signoria, the great central square 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 129 
 
 of the city, you would see crowds of people and 
 all sorts of venders of drinks and tarts. Outside 
 the cafes at little tables men and women were sip- 
 ping their cognac, or tinkling the gelati spoon. As 
 I was lounging on the steps of the Uffizi, looking up 
 at the great tower of the Palazza Vecchio one even- 
 ing, I could not help thinking of a scene in this same 
 square nearly four hundred years ago ; for Savona- 
 rola went out from the Palazza Vecchio to the 
 stake, and he was burned right at the corner of the 
 palace, where a very ugly fountain now plays. There 
 is no mark there, — no tablet. The Florentines 
 seemed to wish to have the dreary event forgotten, 
 and thej" have tried to wash out the blood in water. 
 If you go inside the palace, however, you can find 
 a perfectly magnificent statue of Savonarola, by Pas- 
 saglia, done in white marble. It is simply awe- 
 inspiring, and together with Dante's statue in the 
 square of Santa Croce, the finest in Florence. 
 
 When our little famiky got all together again we 
 set out for the Pitti gallery of pictures. It was 
 elegant. No use, I admire Murillo and Andrea del 
 Sarto far more than the Raphaels and the Da Vincis. 
 I shall not write anything about the picture galleries, 
 except that to me the Pitti was far more interesting 
 than the Uflizi, though the latter contains the " Venus 
 de Medici," " The Wrestlers," and " Niobe." Though 
 17 
 
130 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 the two palaces are quite far apart on different sides 
 of the Arno, there is a covered way connecting the 
 two, part of which runs over the Ponte Vecchio, and 
 this covered way is lined with pictures. 
 
 It seems to me that the sights of Florence are 
 more expensive to visit than those of Rome. You 
 are charged for everything. The shops, however, 
 sell their wares quite cheap ; we would often spend 
 an hour or so looking in the windows, visiting- 
 antiquarian shops and such like. The market on 
 Fridays is a lively scene. There is an open, covered, 
 quadrangle in the crowded part of the city, and here 
 3'ou find all kinds of tradesmen with their baskets 
 yelling their wares, and a stir and bustle that is 
 delicious. I tried to snap some of the more inter- 
 esting groups with my kodak. Friday afternoon we 
 went on a jolty cruise outside the gates to the ma- 
 jolica pottery works, and saw the whole process from 
 beginning to end. The vases and placques, etc., are 
 all painted by hand, and some of them are very strik- 
 ing. I wished that I could get some home, for they 
 were very cheap and very pretty. I believe that it 
 is Ross Turner who says that next to the Pitti gallery 
 the majolica pottery works are the most interesting 
 thing in Florence. One other time we went outside 
 the walls, and that was to see Theodore Parker's 
 grave in the little Protestant cemetery. We found 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 131 
 
 here, too, the graves of Elizabeth B. Browning, 
 Arthur H. Clongh, and Walter Savage Landor. 
 Parker's stone is a very plain one with a medallion 
 in relief, portrait profile, and the words, — 
 
 Theodore Parker, 
 the great american preacher. 
 
 Born at Lexington, . . . 
 Died at Florence. 
 
 44 His name is engraved in stone, but his virtues are 
 engraved in the hearts of those whom he helped to 
 free from slavery and superstition." 
 
 This simple tribute meant more to me than all the 
 elaborate sarcophagi of the tyrannical Medicisand the 
 designing popes, and the hundreds of militaiy monu- 
 ments. Parker's plain stone marked the resting-place 
 of a true man, and the instinct was prompt to take off 
 your hat when you saw the spot. 
 
 But it is the famous old church of the Franciscans, 
 — Santa Croce, — which is the Pantheon of Florence. 
 Here Michael Angelo is buried under a colossal monu- 
 ment, and the less worthy Machiavelli. Here the 
 Countess of Albany built a magnificent tomb for 
 Alfieri, and here, too, is a most impressive monument 
 to Dante (though Dante, an exile from his native 
 city, is buried at Ravenna). I confess I was sur- 
 prised at the recognition of Machiavelli ; he was a 
 
132 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEAEY. 
 
 genius in his way, but his unscrupulous ideas have 
 alwa} T s associated him in m} 7 mind with men of whom 
 a nation is not proud. 
 
 I really believe there were more beggars in Flor- 
 ence than in Rome. They hang round the churches 
 and sit at the doors and beg. I have found it best 
 to steel n^self against them. It seems queer to see 
 people moving round in a church during service. 
 The priests do not seem to mind, provided visitors 
 are quiet and orderly. Somehow I always feel as 
 though I were a Vandal, as I trip round looking at 
 the altar pieces, while the priests are uttering their 
 monotonous chants, and the worshippers bending 
 over their beads. 
 
 To get a bird's-eye view of Florence we climbed 
 that wonderful dome of the Santa Maria del Fiore 
 (Duomo). I was the only one of the party to 
 make the complete ascent through the brazen ball 
 to the cross ; there was a scuttle in the ball, through 
 which 3 t ou could reach out and touch the cross. 
 The temperature was not so frightfully high as in the 
 ball of St. Peter's dome. We had a superb view of 
 the city, with its amphitheatre of mountains and 
 acres of tiled roofs. Off to the northeast lay Fie- 
 sole, a quite noted little town, and one that frequently 
 heard Savonarola. 
 
 We hated to leave Florence and our charming 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. loo 
 
 pi nsion. but Saturday night saw us off on the nine 
 o'clock train. It was an awful ride. I remember a 
 certain hot disagreeable ride I once took from Pitts- 
 burg to Chicago after H.'s wedding, but this Italian 
 nightmare beats it. It was so hot that we did not 
 dare shut the windows, and the smoke poured in 
 so that I felt all choked up. Opposite me was a 
 good-natured Frenchman who seemed to understand 
 in}' bad French, and we gave the Italian railroads 
 a dressing-down. Of course I did not sleep a wink, 
 nor Frank, either. 
 
 Oh, Venice is glorious ! London was great ; Paris 
 brilliant ; Rome awe-full ; Florence fascinating ; but 
 Venice is superb. It is alone of its kind, — the 
 most restful place and 3'et the most gorgeous, with 
 splendid nights, wide wet streets, and swift-stealing, 
 graceful gondolas, music in the great square of St. 
 Mark's, and lanterns and singing on the water. I ? 11 
 write 3'ou about it all. 
 
 Bellagio, Lake Como, Aug. 4, 1892. 
 My dear C. — M} T last letter home brought us 
 to Venice, — one of the most fascinating cities in the 
 world, I really believe. On arriving we went straight 
 to the Casa Kirsch, which fronts right on the grand 
 canal and the lagoon. We were prett} T well tired out 
 with our wearisome journey, but were so braced up 
 
134 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 by breakfast that we went out to St. Mark's Church 
 and heard morning service. The church is very 
 gaudily frescoed, — all mosaic with gold background. 
 The}- have been at work on the interior for the past 
 ten 3'ears, and this is the first year the whole of the 
 frescos have been uncovered. The outside of the 
 church is as inanj T -colored as the inside, and with 
 its swelling rounded domes reminds you of pictures 
 of Eastern churches. Indeed, the whole of Venice 
 is Eastern, probably due to its wide commerce with 
 the East in the fifteenth century. After church we 
 went through the ducal palace and the underground 
 dungeons of the prison. They were repairing the 
 Bridge of Sighs, so that we could not get across. In 
 the grand council-room we saw Tintoretti's ' ' Para- 
 dise," the largest oil-painting in the world, covering 
 the whole side of the room. As a whole I did not 
 admire the ducal palace interior ; it was too rich. 
 The exterior is beautiful ; for the marbles are so 
 wondrously tinted, and the tints are mellow with age. 
 I found the colors of the stones and the marbles and 
 the decayed brick- work the real secret of the beauty 
 of Venice. It seemed like a dream to see the gon- 
 dolas stealing noiselessly b}^ in the most crowded 
 canals. Frank said that in spite of all he had read 
 of Venice, when he came out of the railroad station 
 he looked around for a hack ! 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 135 
 
 The gondolas look very natural; the}' are black, 
 and have a heavy steel halbert to balance the gondo- 
 lier. In going round a corner the gondolier yells 
 " Prime ! " (first place) and has the right of way. I 
 was surprised to see how very narrow the side and 
 back canals were, — perhaps ten to twelve feet ; yet 
 the long gondolas were guided skilfully past each 
 other, and on going round the corner you could 
 hardly put a sheet of paper between the side of the 
 gondola and the guard-post. The motion is not so 
 smooth as that of a canoe. The sweeps are so long 
 and the stroke so powerful that the gondola gives a 
 list with every stroke, but on the whole the} T are 
 deliciousby comfortable. We could hire one by 
 the hour for a franc. I had fancied there were no 
 streets in Venice, but there is quite a network of 
 them, and you can go all over the city on foot. 
 The streets are so narrow and winding that my 
 map was useless, and I went entirely b} T my little 
 compass. Every now and then as you crossed a 
 bridge, or glided down a canal, you would find lit- 
 tle Venetians bathing. Their mothers tie strings 
 around the babies' waists, and let them play in the 
 canals. The water is so terribly salt, I suppose it 
 does them no harm. The water of the small canals 
 is very dirty though, and one would need a bath on 
 coming out more than before he went in. 
 
136 SAMUEL FOSTEE McCLEARY. 
 
 Venice is full of picturesque piles of build- 
 ings, and jou. come upon them literally at every 
 turn of the canal. I do not wonder that painters 
 and poets love the place. Well, to go back to our 
 first day, Sunday. In the afternoon we hired a 
 gondola and went out to see the great annual 
 regatta. It was a great piece of luck that we 
 should have stumbled on this festival, — the most 
 beautiful in color that I have ever seen. It is- 
 given by the government ; prizes are offered for 
 the best rowing, and the crews are made up from 
 the lower classes, — the gondoliers. As in most races 
 everything was late, and the race when it did come 
 off was hardly exciting, — that is, to us who have 
 been used to races at Cambridge and New London ; 
 but the crowd of boats, the animation of the 
 people, and the bright decorations of the houses 
 were striking. Almost every house on the Grand 
 Canal had colored silks hanging from the windows, 
 and here and there you could see a bit of tapestry. 
 The thousands of gondolas were drawn up in thick 
 masses on each side the canal, leaving a very narrow 
 streak of clear water. Up and down this went the 
 police-boat armed with a hose, and any unruly boat- 
 man who refused to move on order was pla} T ed upon. 
 The government provided a pageant of some dozen 
 elaborate gondolas, — gilded and canopied, — with 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 137 
 
 crews of gondoliers in uniform. In the stern great 
 sheets of satin drooped down to the water and dragged 
 along in it. It was a ga}~ scene and one worth seeing. 
 In the evening I saw for the first time the deep blue 
 of the Italian sky. It is really not exaggerated 
 in photographs. It is magnificent, and with a 
 full moon must be surpassing. The square of St. 
 Mark's was brilliantly lighted. Hundreds of little 
 tables were set in front of the palaces of the quad- 
 rangle, and thousands of people promenaded or 
 drank their wine or ate their ices while the orchestra 
 was playing. A Harvard Class-day gives } t ou some 
 idea of St. Mark's in the evening. There is not, of 
 course, the soft glow of the lanterns, but in its place 
 the purple coloring of the buildings, with their soft 
 tinted marbles and the warm deep blue of the sk}\ 
 Florian's is the great restaurant. I left Frank in 
 the square and went with Mr. L. to the opera. This 
 was rather secular, I admit, but there was playing 
 the little piece called "L'Amice Fritz," by the author 
 of " Cavalieri Rusticana' ; (which has made such a stir 
 in both Europe and America), and we were afraid it 
 would be our last chance. It was a delightful little 
 piece with beautiful music, much of which was too 
 classical for me, but all in all so lovely that I want 
 to hear it again. It was the first time I had ever 
 heard an overture encored. Mr. L. who is splcndidl} T 
 
 18 
 
138 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 up in music thought the little opera verj' fine. ■ I am 
 anxious now to hear " Cavalieri Rusticana." I have 
 been fairly fortunate in hearing operas in Europe. I 
 had supposed all the theatres would be closed. 
 
 Monday, Frank, Mr. L., and I went to the Frari 
 (church) and saw his beautiful pictures, — the "Ma- 
 donna of the Pesaro family," and a little " Madonna " 
 by Bellini. Bellini, Titian, Veronese, and Tinto- 
 retti, — these are the four masters you meet all over 
 Venice. The same morning I walked across the 
 famous Rialto. It is lined with little shops, not 
 like those of the Ponte Vecchio, of one kind, but 
 every kind, — print-shops, meat, jewelry, — every- 
 thing. In the afternoon we all went to the Lido and 
 had a perfectly great time. The Lido is a little island 
 off Venice where there is a bathhouse and casino com- 
 bined, and the swell families of Venice spend their 
 afternoons here in large part. To do the Lido up in 
 st} T le costs one franc and a half. For this 30U get a 
 steamboat ticket over and back, a ticket to get into the 
 casino, and one for the bath. The men bathe on one 
 side of the beach, the women on the other (the same 
 beach). They give \~ou a towel, a sheet, and a pair 
 of trunks, and off you go to your little room. The 
 beach slopes very gradually, and you can't get 
 drowned if 3'ou want to. I had to work hard to 
 even get out over my head, and there was absolutely 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 139 
 
 no place to dive ; except for this and a too high 
 temperature of water, the bath was fine. I missed 
 the bracing chilly water of our Massachusetts coast, 
 though. After the swim we got into our sheets, 
 dressed, and went upstairs to the casino, where there 
 was a big crowd watching the bathers and sipping 
 coffee and gelati. 
 
 It was a fine gay crowd, and we were glad to 
 lounge a half an hour away watching it. In the 
 evening we hired a gondola and went out on the 
 Grand Canal to hear the singing. Everything was 
 still, and the clear voice of an Italian woman rang 
 out sweetly over the water. Two violins and a 
 guitar accompanied her, and round the singer's 
 gondola there were a crowd of others, and every- 
 where you could see the tiny lights on the bows 
 dodging about as the gondolas came and went. On 
 landing we came into the great square just as the 
 orchestra was playing the finest part of the wedding 
 march from Lohengrin. We sat down at one of the 
 little tables and ate a gelati to music. 
 
 Tuesday, Mr. B. took us all over Venice in his 
 gondola. We stopped at the finest churches, and 
 saw some beautiful pictures, among them Parma 
 Vecchio's "Santa Barbara " and Titian's "Assump- 
 tion" (in the Academy). I must not forget the 
 " Scuola di Rocco." The attendant ^ave us a guide- 
 
140 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 card to the frescos, printed in four languages. The 
 English was a bit peculiar. I copied the queerest 
 part of it. 
 
 1. In the middle : — 
 
 The sin our fathers. On every side [t. e. each] three 
 kinds in the oven of Babyloni; Moise saved from the 
 water. 
 
 2. Moise who spring the water; on every side, the 
 ardent wood [J. e. burning bush] and the luminous column 
 in the desert. 
 
 Daniel in the trench of the lion. Eleseios dispansing 
 brods. 
 
 "The wood-carving representing the life of St. Roch, 
 that is to say, his departure; his helping to the infects. " 
 
 The catalogue then went on to speak of einige 
 facts. 
 
 We were sorry to leave Venice, but the time was so 
 short that we took the early morning train, Wednes- 
 day, that is, Frank, Mr. L. and I, leaving Mrs. and 
 Miss S. in Venice. We reached Milan about 2 o'clock, 
 hired a carriage, drove to the Ste. Maria della 
 G-razie, and saw Leonardo da Vinci's marvellous 
 fresco of the "Last Supper." It is badly marred, 
 but enough remains to show the fine grouping and 
 the movement of the picture. It is thoroughly artis- 
 tic and impressive. Christ's face is marred more 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 141 
 
 than the rest. Around the room are several copies 
 of the work, and we saw two artists at their easels 
 in front of the picture. We then drove to the art 
 gallery and had a glimpse of one of the most superb 
 drawings I ever hope to see, — the study of the head of 
 Christ in " Last Supper " by Leonardo. In the same 
 gallery we saw some fine Salvator Rosas and Van 
 Dycks and some Raphaels (I could not appreciate 
 the last). The Milan Cathedral is elaborate. You 
 remember the picture of it with its flying buttresses 
 and its hundreds of statues. It is more impressive 
 inside, with its lofty vaulting and fine marble-chased 
 ceiling and double aisles. We climbed to the top as 
 usual, and as we got higher and higher we could see 
 the intricate construction of the big pile, dazzlingly 
 white. On top (I could n't get to the tip-top) we 
 had a wide view of Milan and the Alps, and caught 
 a snatch of a view of Mt. Rosa and Mt. Blanc. 
 Driving back to the station we took the 6 p. m. train 
 for Como, and got there about 8 o'clock. It was a 
 lovely place at the southern end of the lake, shut in 
 by high hills and mountains, something as the Profile 
 House is in New Hampshire, only not quite so con- 
 fined. In the square right in the lake we ate our din- 
 ner to the music of another band. Spending the night 
 at Como we sailed up the lake to Bellagio early this 
 morning, and it was like sailing past a series of Bar 
 
142 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 Harbors, except that the mountains were more jagged 
 and purple, and the little towns and villas on the 
 hillsides more ancient looking. Bellagio is the 
 gem of Lake Como, situated right in the fork of 
 the lake. This evening we took a boat for an hour 
 and rowed round the point of land on which Bellagio 
 is built, and listened to some very clear echoes, the 
 sound bouncing from one cliff to another. It is fine 
 to get into the bracing air of the mountains after the 
 hot sirroccos of Florence and Rome. I am very glad 
 that we took our trip as we did with Switzerland on 
 top. To-morow morning (Friday) we sail to Menaggio, 
 across to Pallanza on Lake Maggiore, and spend 
 the night at Domo d'Ossola, whence we begin our 
 Switzerland tramp. My letters may be scant or 
 wanting during this tour. 
 
 Sierre, Aug. 15, 1892. 
 
 My dear F., — In my last letter to C. I had ar- 
 rived at Bellagio on the beautiful lake of Como, and 
 I think I wrote you how we took a boat and rowed 
 around the promontory and heard the echoes and 
 floated underneath the high cliffs. Did I write j t oh, 
 too, that at Como we fell in again with a Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lee whom we had met on leaving Venice and 
 dropped at Milan ? 
 
 Well, the Lees went with us, keeping us jolly com- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 143 
 
 pan}' as far as Visp, where we left them and took our 
 breakfast preparatory for the glorious walk from Visp 
 to St. Nicholaus and thence to Zermatt. I must tell 
 you a word, however, about the Italian lakes. Como 
 is to me the most beautiful of the three, but this 
 does not reflect on lakes Lugano and Maggiore. 
 The high hills, blue as our own Milton hills, are all 
 around you, and as you turn this corner and that 
 3*011 come upon a long vista of mountains, some of 
 them white-capped and merging into the sky. We 
 had a jolly little steamer and went through from 
 Bellagio (Como) to Domo d'Ossola in one da}*. Mr. 
 Law left us at Pallanga and went back to Milan on 
 his way to Bayreuth. We missed him ever so much, 
 for he had been with us ever since we left Genoa. 
 We spent the night at Domo d'Ossola, and next 
 morning took the diligence over the superb Sim- 
 plon pass to Brieg. This pass or road was built, I 
 believe, by Napoleon. Whoever did it, though, did 
 it well. The sides of the gorge, through which the 
 road twists till you can see twist on twist below 
 you as you ascend, are bold and very precipitous, and 
 torrents that tumble about the rocks and spread out 
 into the air are awe-inspiring. It took us all day to 
 wind slowly through the Simplon, and when at length 
 we clambered down from our seats at our journey's 
 end, we could well believe we had put a solid wall 
 
144 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 between ourselves and sunny Italy. Lovely Italy — 
 the most romantic land I ever expect to see. Over 
 night at Brieg, and breakfast ; then F. C. S. and I 
 shouldered our traps and set our faces to Zermatt. 
 We had simply our canvas-bags and our Mackin- 
 toshes, — the latter we tossed over our shoulders. 
 As the time had not come for stiff tramping we decided 
 to pick up our Alpine stocks along the route. In 
 my bag I carried a change of underclothing, some 
 simple medicines, and my " Baedeker." We took 
 the way from Visp to St. Nicholaus very slowly, 
 for it was our first real tramp. It was a fine da}', 
 not too hot, and we made St. Nicholaus by early af- 
 ternoon, — that is, by four o'clock as nearly as I can 
 remember. The road was very fine, and we were in 
 an amphitheatre of gorgeous mountains all the time. 
 On climbing a steep ascent just beyond Stalden we 
 broke in upon the splendid Weisshorn, its needle 
 peak just dazzling with snow. It kept with us for 
 mile on mile, and by the time we reached St. Nicho- 
 laus it seemed as though we had crept almost to its 
 base. You can imagine how fine it was next da}* 
 to come in sight of the great Matterhorn, the guar- 
 dian angel of Zermatt. Zermatt, and our times there, 
 I shall tell you about when I get home. It is an 
 inspiring spot and in the very heart of the moun- 
 tains. It is hard to describe natural scenery, and 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 145 
 
 I know any length of it must be very wearisome to 
 you. Leaving Zermatt and its treasures we retraced 
 our steps down the Visp valley again, and that brings 
 me up to date. I began this letter before now, 
 but had to put it by, as T have several before, ere I 
 had opportunity to finish it. As I warned 30U in 
 C.'s last letter, Switzerland is a bad country to write 
 letters in, you are so on the go. 
 
 Lucerne, Aug. 16, 1892. 
 My dear H., — Do }'ou remember Byron's lines in 
 his " Prisoner of Chillon " ? — 
 
 " My hair is white, 
 But not with years ; 
 Nor grew it white 
 In a single night, 
 As men's have grown 
 From sudden fears." 
 
 Well, here is the picture of the old castle where the 
 scene is laid, — the imprisonment of Bonivard, and 
 though Baedeker saj's Byron's stoiy is a fable, the 
 castle is none the less interesting. But first I must 
 tell you how we got there. In father's letter I was in 
 Sierre, a queer little Swiss town tucked awa}' in the 
 Rhone valley in the southern centre of Switzerland. 
 
146 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 I met there two English ladies, and after supper 
 went out on the little piazza in front of the hotel 
 and had a long talk with them. They had very queer 
 ideas about America. They understood that Ameri- 
 can women ate hot bread and pies, and so, though 
 for a short time very beautiful, their beauty did not 
 last like that of the bonny girls of England. They 
 thought, too, that all American women cared for was 
 dress. Doubtless they had got some of their ideas 
 from our "specimen" Americans with long purses 
 and shoddy manners who plunge through Europe. 
 Thursday morning we left Sierre and travelled on the 
 railroad through rather uninteresting country to the 
 Lake of Geneva, — the eastern end; and in a few 
 moments after leaving Villeneuve we shot into sight of 
 the romantic Castle of Chillon. We had met in our 
 car a Mr. A., his wife, daughter, and two friends. 
 Mr. A. was an alderman at Portsmouth, Eng., and a 
 very genial old gentleman. They were going to 
 Chillon, too, so we all went together. The castle is 
 on a little island, but very near the shore, so that the 
 distance between is about that of a good-sized moat. 
 We went all though it, saw the Duke of Savo} T 's 
 dining-room and reception-room, all of the thirteenth 
 centurj^ ; and we saw, too, many grewsome-looking 
 wooden pillars with chains and iron collars on them, 
 which our guide told us were torture columns. But it 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 147 
 
 was down below in the dungeons } T ou had the shivers. 
 I shall never forget the place so long as I live, it was 
 so creep}*. In the damp under-ground, lighted by the 
 merest slits in the thick walls you could see stone- 
 pillars standing in a row ; to these the poor prisoners 
 were confined with chains, each to a pillar. The 
 guide showed us Bonivard's pillar. He was supposed 
 to have had some length to his chain so that he 
 walked and walked round and back again and round 
 and back, wearing a circle on the stone-floor. The 
 guide showed us the rock on which condemned 
 prisoners passed the night, — the gallows-tree, and 
 the viaduct out of which the dead bodies were shot 
 into the lake. I was glad to clamber up the steps 
 and get up into the warm sunshine and thank heaven 
 that m}* days were cast in a fairer time than Boni- 
 vard's. From Chillon we took a little electric train to 
 Territat, a bit farther up the lake to the north, and 
 after getting a very poor lunch took the little lake 
 steamer and churned westward towards Geneva, which 
 is at the extreme western end of the lake. Lake Gen- 
 eva is called Lac Leman in Switzerland. The boat 
 must have made twenty stops between Chillon and 
 Geneva, — taking things very leisurely. We passed 
 Veve}', a very well-known summering place for Con- 
 tinentals. It is celebrated for being the home, I 
 think, of Rousseau. At smy rate it is in this region 
 
148 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 that he lays the scene of his " Nouvelle Heloise." We 
 passed Lausanne, a very pretty and quaint town, and 
 on nearing Geneva saw Necker's home. Necker, you 
 know, was Finance minister to Louis XVI. His 
 daughter was Madame de Stael, and she lived many 
 years in the chateau we passed. It was about half- 
 past six in the evening when we reached Geneva. 
 We had taken five hours to cross the lake, — forty- 
 five miles long. Lake Geneva is not so beautiful to 
 me as the Italian lakes ; the distances are too great. 
 In the Italian lakes the mountains are right up 
 around you ; at Geneva they are far off. But the 
 water of Lake Geneva is the bluest you ever saw, 
 as blue as the skies of Italy. No one knows why it 
 is so blue, but blue it is, and a lovely transparent 
 blue, too. Nearing Geneva we had a fine view of 
 Mt. Blanc. It is a gorgeous old pile, but it does 
 not impress you as being the highest of the Alps. 
 The Matterhorn at Zermatt is far more imposing, and 
 the Breithorn and the Weisshorn. Did } r ou know — 
 I did not — that you can make out the figure of Na- 
 poleon, his head, his cocked hat, and cockade, his 
 folded arms, all out of the peaks of Mt. Blanc ? It 
 takes some time to make it out, just as it's hard at 
 first to find the fair } r oung girl in the full moon, but 
 once you see it you can never help seeing it. It is 
 called " Tete de Napoleon." I tried to get a photo- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. L49 
 
 graph of it for father, but have found nothing satis- 
 factory so far. Geneva is built on the west end of 
 the lake, and on both sides of the Rhone as it dashes 
 swiftly out from the lake and hurries on its way to 
 France and the Mediterranean. Nine bridges con- 
 nect the two parts, and over the finest of these, the 
 Pont du Mont Blanc, we took our way to find a pen- 
 sion. I found a perfectly fine one on the borders of 
 the lake. The lad} T who conducts it is a lady in every 
 sense of the word, and she is very pretty and charm- 
 ing. She can speak four languages, and is a master 
 at English. She went to England when a young 
 girl and studied hard there so as to be able to teach 
 English, and she came out No. 2 in her class. She 
 teaches English now besides running the pension. 
 Besides, she has had the great privilege of studying 
 French literature with Amiel, — just think of it ! She 
 speaks of Amiel as not being a very good man, but 
 she was impressed with his knowledge and his mind. 
 For recreation Madame S. keeps up her music and 
 singing, and then she makes lace at odd moments. 
 Lace-making is the most complicated thing I ever 
 saw ; she has at least fifty- bobbins of black silk, 
 each with a handle to it, and the way she throws 
 those bobbins together winding and weaving and 
 sticking in pins, is a wonder. She talks while she 
 is making her lace, just as old women can prattle on 
 
150 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 and set the heel of a stocking at the same time. 
 Her husband is a good fellow, bat not interesting ; 
 but her little girl is quite "cute" and very prett3 T . 
 Our meals are always pleasant, for there are about 
 a dozen of us at table, and Madame is a master at 
 conversation and thinks of every one. Just think 
 of it ! I have my three meals and a nice little room 
 and a hot bath all ready for me in the morning, all 
 for 5f. ($1.00) a day. I thought my Florence pen- 
 sion the finest I had had, but this is even better. 
 
 Evenings they have band concerts here and some- 
 times illuminations. The other night, out on the 
 middle of the lake a great fountain was playing and 
 the high streams were lighted in some Hijsterious 
 way by electric lights and the colors changed every 
 few minutes. The centre stream of the five must 
 have shot up some ninet} 7 or one hundred feet. 
 
 As I came along the street to-day I found that it was 
 market-daj-, and all through the principal thorough- 
 fare were women from the country with their baskets 
 of provisions and flowers. The curb-stones were 
 lined on both sides as far as } r ou could see, and all 
 the Genevan women came out to haggle and bu\\ 
 The flowers looked so prett}', and the fresh fruit and 
 the green vegetables, that I wished we had some 
 such open-air markets in America. I like to see 
 flowers for sale on the streets. Flowers are prett\ 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 151 
 
 anywhere, and it 's far finer than to see the streets 
 lined with suspender venders. 
 
 Right on the lake is the Jardin Anglais with 
 benches and chairs among the trees. It reminds 
 you something of the Champs Elys£es of Paris, in 
 that the nurses and other, women come out with their 
 work and their needles and sit together in gossiping 
 circles, having nice quiet times together. Yesterday 
 afternoon I took a book and went under the trees 
 to read a little, and it was fine, until a big storm 
 came up and hurried me back to my pension. 
 
 Monday. 
 Sunday noon I left Geneva for Lucerne, and got 
 there in time for a fine table d'hote dinner, which, 1 
 tell you, I enjoyed. This morning, right after my 
 Swiss breakfast (a Swiss breakfast invariably con- 
 sists of tea (or coffee), rolls, butter, and hone}'), I 
 took a run up to the famous " Lion of Thorwaldsen's." 
 It is one of the most impressive monuments I ever 
 saw. The sheer cliff, about one hundred feet high, 
 is situated in a little glen with trees hanging over the 
 top, and a dark pool of water at the bottom with 
 swans gliding about, and there, half-wa} r between the 
 ferns and the trees, above the pool, the lion is cut with 
 fine bold lines. It commemorates the death of the 
 Swiss guards in the French Revolution who defended 
 
152 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 the Tuileries against the mob. If you look at the 
 photograph in our parlor you will see on one shield 
 the Swiss cross and on the other, under the lion's 
 paw, the lilies of France. 
 
 I then took a steamboat and sailed the length of 
 the most beautiful lake in Europe, — Lake Lucerne. 
 It reminds me very much of the Italian lakes, but 
 the mountains are bolder and more impressive. We 
 steamed past many and many a place that Schiller 
 has made famous in his poem of William Tell. We 
 are right in Tell's country, — in the cantons of Uri, 
 Schwyz, and Unterwalden. We saw the Kussnacht 
 in the distance, sailed past Grutli, saw Tell's Platte, — 
 where 'tis said Tell jumped from the boat and shot 
 Gessler, — and further on, Tell's Chapel. At Fluelen, 
 at the opposite end of the lake from Lucerne, took 
 a 'bus to Altdorf, — the little village where Tell shot 
 the apple from his son's head. There is a large 
 plaster statue of Tell on the spot where he raised 
 his bow, and about one hundred and fifty paces on, a 
 fountain that marks the place where the lime-tree 
 grew under which little Tell stood. With all these 
 memories, so concrete and seemingly real, it is hard 
 to think that the Tell story is but a fable. It evi- 
 dently is no fable to the Swiss peasants if one can 
 judge from the statues and the signs and the names 
 of the Altdorf streets. 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 153 
 
 All the villages along Lake Lucerne arc quaint 
 and beautiful. The houses are distinctively Swiss. 
 Sometimes the roof goes way down on one side and 
 makes a cubby hole for hay, or a stable, or an extra 
 room. As you come towards Lucerne on the lake 
 you see on your right hand the Righi, a high wooded 
 mountain with a little railroad to the top, and on the 
 left the craggy peaks of Mt. Pilatus with a railroad 
 to its summit. These mountain-tops are favorite 
 excursions for Lucerne tourists, and they say the 
 view from the top of either is glorious. The Righi 
 has been the favorite one of late years, but Pilatus 
 is coming in again for first place. We have not been 
 up either as yet. 
 
 Koln, Aug. 28, 1892. 
 My dear C, — The last time I wrote was from 
 Lucerne. The day after I sent the letter I climbed 
 the Righi, a small mountain on the lake a little dis- 
 tance from the town. The view was superb, with 
 its one-hundred-and-twenty-mile stretch of Alp-land 
 showing the Wetterhorn, the Monch, the Eiger, the 
 Jungfrau, and lots of other snow-clad peaks. In 
 the afternoon we went up to the Lion glen again and 
 feasted on Thorwaldsen's work. It is wondrously 
 fine. While at Lucerne I read George du Maurier's 
 "Peter Ibbetson," — a very good thing on the whole 
 
154 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 but a bit disappointing. It is written well, but at the 
 end it sags down into a theosophical wonder-book, 
 which is commonplace and must always be. I used 
 to take my book and go out on the lake promenade 
 and sit among the crowds of people that lounge 
 away the hours there, in sight of beautiful moun- 
 tains and craggy Pilatus. It was very interesting 
 to prowl around the narrow streets of the older part 
 of the town and see the markets right out on the 
 street. One morning I found that a hen market was 
 in progress ; baskets and crates full of hens, ducks, 
 geese, and rabbits filled the market square, and the 
 people were babbling and haggling like good ones. 
 It was almost pathetic to see here and there a poor 
 woman who had brought her two pullets to the square 
 hoping to have a chance to sell them against the 
 finer and fatter ones of the well-to-do farmer. I 
 came very near buying for you the silver chains and 
 rosettes that the Bernese women and the women at 
 Interlaken wear on their bodices, but I concluded 
 that they were a little too loud. We left Lucerne on 
 the 24th and arrived in Freiburg (German}') late in 
 the evening. In the morning we took a look at the 
 Cathedral and walked up the Schlosberg and had 
 a fine view of the town. From there we went on 
 to the far more interesting Heidelberg, spending a 
 night and a day there. Of course the first thing to 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 155 
 
 sec was the fine old castle, — a most impressive ruin 
 standing out on a hill just over the town. We 
 went all through it from turret to dungeon, and we 
 saw the great tun which holds three hundred thou- 
 sand bottles of wine — has been filled three times. 
 The University was closed, but we managed to get 
 into one of the halls, and so got a very fair idea of 
 the recitation and reading rooms. As we went in 
 we saw two very cheerful signs arching over our 
 heads : — 
 
 " Verliebe Frauen und Magdalein 
 sollt hier vor allen wlllkommen sein." 
 
 " Ihr Manner herein mit festen Schritt 
 Und bring mir keine Sorgen mit." 
 
 I should have said that we stopped a few hours at 
 Strasburg before coming on to Heidelberg, — just 
 long enough to get a glimpse of the Cathedral and 
 its wonderful clock. While we were there it struck 
 four, and we saw the little figures move and ring 
 bells and tip hour-glasses in the most vigorous man- 
 ner. It is a marvellous piece of mechanism ; records 
 everything that has anything to do with time, and is 
 not tripped up by leap-years. The Cathedral would 
 be fine if its second tower were finished, but as it 
 stands now it looks maimed. 
 
156 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 From Heidelberg we pushed on to Mainz, or May- 
 ence, at the junction of the Rhine and the Main. It 
 was our first good look at the " ruhig Rhein." 
 There is little in Mayence to keep one, so after a 
 look at the Cathedral, which is not a success, and 
 at the Gutenberg monument, we took the ten o'clock 
 morning boat down the Rhine, the castled Rhine, 
 to Cologne, a ten-hours sail, and this with the 
 current in our favor. After Switzerland it was 
 tame. Except for the fine old castles, the Rhine 
 cannot compare with our Hudson River. Of course 
 the river is interesting, and every bit of land is 
 full of history that is world-known, but it seems to 
 me its beauty has been overestimated. The Loreley 
 ( w ' Ich weiss nicht was soil es bedeuten," etc.) is 
 a bold high cliff, but is not very bold. The Drach- 
 enfels is more impressive, with its high-perched ruined 
 castle. We passed b} r the Mouse tower, where the 
 legend is that the Archbishop of Maj-ence was eaten 
 by rats ; you remember the poem. The Rhine is full 
 of legend, — Roland's arch and Hildegarde's cloister, 
 — and Wagner has placed many of his Opera scenes 
 on this river. (Helen will remember them, — the 
 Drachenfels, etc.) Half way down the river, between 
 Ma} T ence and Cologne (Koln), we stopped at old Cob- 
 lenz, with its four-turreted church of St. Castor and 
 fine old high-peaked houses. The roofs of some of the 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 157 
 
 German houses we have seen have as man}- as four 
 rows of dormer windows, and a street full of them 
 makes a very picturesque sight. It is interesting, 
 too, to see the German women washing by the river. 
 The}' have long floating houses like arks, and they 
 kneel on the floor and wring their clothes out at the 
 edge of the float and chatter like monkeys, — rows 
 on rows of them. We got into Cologne about eight 
 at night and had a fine table d'hote dinner. To-day 
 (Sunday) we have ''done up" the city. We visited 
 the principal churches and the Art Museum, and best 
 of all, the great Cathedral, the most magnificent 
 thing I ever saw in my life. It puts all the cathe- 
 drals I have seen before completely in the shade, not 
 excepting St. Peter's, though St. Peter's, inside, is far 
 richer. Cologne Cathedral is a perfect whole, and 
 a pure Gothic at that. It has taken hundreds of 
 years to build it, but the different architects have 
 kept its style and proportions exactly. I can't de- 
 scribe it, with its twin towers — the highest in the 
 world — and its high, beautifully arched nave and its 
 flying buttresses. It is a marvel of grace and beauty 
 which I shall never forget. I do not believe it can 
 be surpassed. We climbed as far as they would let 
 us, only three hundred and fifty feet, and got a fine 
 view of the architecture of the big pile and a broad 
 view of Cologne itself on the winding Rhine. The 
 
158 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 service, like all Catholic services I have heard, was 
 gaudy and commonplace. I must say, though, that 
 there seemed to be more earnestness and reverence 
 in the German churches than in those of France 
 and Italy. The churches were all full, and that 
 helped. We happened in on a sermon to-day, the 
 first I have ever heard in a Catholic church. We 
 kept going to the Cathedral all day, looking at it 
 from one side and another. You never tire of it ; 
 it is too beautiful. This afternoon we went to a 
 typical German beer-garden, and it was a very nice, 
 orderly, decent place. The band was giving a very 
 good concert, and the people — good-looking people — 
 sat at the little tables and quietly drank their beer. 
 At one table you would see a whole family, at an- 
 other a couple, at another a knot of German soldiers 
 with their sensible blue uniforms. We spent an hour 
 or so there watching the people, — grandpa, pa, ma, 
 and the children, and it was fine. Then we took a 
 horse-car and drove round the Ring Strasse, — a 
 beautiful street that begins and ends on the Rhine, 
 and includes the city in a great semicircle. It is the 
 Commonwealth Avenue of Cologne, and it is a gal- 
 lant one. To-night we are to leave our little pension 
 Fischer for Ostend. This is the cheapest place we 
 have struck. 
 
 We leave to-night for Ostend and cross to Dover 
 
LETTEBS FROM EUROPE. 159 
 
 early in the morning, then on to London. Frank 
 sails for home the 1st of September, — next Thurs- 
 day, which we are beginning to realize is near at 
 hand. I shall stay a little longer. I expect on get- 
 ting to London to find a letter from Mrs. M., in 
 answer to one I wrote her at Lucerne, telling her I 
 hoped to come up to Broadway for a day. My plan 
 is to see a little of Oxford, Warwick Castle, Strat- 
 ford, Broadwa} T , and Chester, before I sail, and I 
 shall have plent}- of time for them all. 
 
 Oxford, Sept. 3, 1892. 
 
 My dear F., — I wrote C. at Cologne but forgot 
 to post the letter there, so at Dover I put Queen 
 Victoria over the German eagles and sent it off 
 from the chalk-cliff town. We decided to return via 
 Ostend rather than risk the cholera b} T going through 
 Antwerp or Rotterdam. It was too bad to give up 
 Holland, but I think we did wisely. The trip from 
 Ostend across the channel was comparatively smooth, 
 so that we had no need of the traditional basin. 
 Three hours and a half brought us under the lee of 
 the picturesque white cliffs that we have heard so 
 much about, and we were in good old England again. 
 It seems a long time since we left Newhaven for 
 Dieppe and the Continent, and yet it was only fort}'- 
 
160 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 five days ; but how we have filled in those forty-five 
 Continental days ! 
 
 We took the train from Dover to Canterbury and 
 stopped over to get a glimpse of the Cathedral with 
 its square old towering tower and manifold turrets. 
 It was warm and beautiful on the outside, with the 
 sunshine playing on the old stones, but inside there 
 was the same chill and dreariness that is almost 
 always connected with a vast interior. The streets 
 of Canterbury were lovely, — typical English village 
 or town style, ivy-grown brick houses, long and low, 
 little gabled shops, and the regulation hedges with 
 lovely trees. At the station, waiting for the London 
 train, I saw Mrs. Fields and Miss Jewett. Neither 
 recognized me, perhaps on account of my beard ; and 
 so I did not venture to speak to them. I looked a 
 bit trampy with my old clothes. 
 
 We reached London, dear old London, with its 
 'busses and silk hats and chop-houses, about two 
 o'clock, and went to the banker's, where I found my 
 letters. We then went to our tailor's arid tried on 
 our clothes and gave orders for alterations, and then 
 back we went to Mrs. Murra} T 's, who seemed glad 
 to see us again. As Frank was to sail Thursday 
 (1st) he spent most of Tuesday and Wednesday in 
 getting ready, — shopping, etc., so that I wandered 
 over London alone. Tuesday morning I took a walk 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 1G1 
 
 the whole length of Regent Street and looked in 
 shop-windows like a girl of sixteen. Regent Street 
 and Bond Street are the swell shopping streets, and 
 as the}- were too swell for me I could look on at the 
 great sights with a ven' even mind. 
 
 As I paced Regent Street, past Liberty's three 
 or four stores, I longed to have E. with me. Some- 
 how I have wished for E. in England just as I 
 have longed for you in Paris, and C. in Rome. H. is 
 a bit more cosmopolitan to m} T fane}', and I have not 
 associated her with an}- particular city, though per- 
 haps with Venice, as I think it over now, for Venice 
 would do her good, it is so restful there. Well, it 
 took me about all the morning to do up Regent Street, 
 and a fine morning's enjoyment it was ; and then in 
 the afternoon I went to a still more interesting 
 quarter down near St. Paul's, — Paternoster Row, — 
 and strolled through the book-stalls. 
 
 Paternoster Row is a very narrow street, almost 
 an alley, and it is well named, for most of the stores 
 sell religious books. But far more interesting to me 
 was old Holywell Street, called Booksellers' Row. 
 Here there is really a touch of old London, — a few 
 peaked-roof houses squinting down on the narrow 
 pavement in good sixteenth-century style. Here }'ou 
 see the most delightful open book-stalls, with bo3's 
 pushing down and up the great shutters, as the rain 
 21 
 
162 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 comes down and the sun drives it awa} 7 . Such cheap 
 books ! I could n't help buying a nice copy of 
 "Goethe's Faust" (Taylor's) for a shilling for my 
 Brooklyn library, nor a brand new copy of Kings- 
 ley's poems (which I could not find in America) 
 for Is. 2d. If those bookstalls had been in Boston 
 I should have bought fifty books at least. Book- 
 sellers' Row is a short street, but it took me a long 
 while to go through it. 
 
 Finally I tore myself away and dashed off for 
 Irving's Little Britain. I was disappointed. There 
 is little left of what must have been a quiet little 
 retreat. There was a small garden with a two-penny 
 pond and forty or fifty people lounging on settees, 
 but big, modern warehouses frowned on all sides, and 
 I do not believe Irving would know it now. I can 
 fancy what it must have been, — a sort of Inner 
 Temple junior for the St. Paul quarter. Of course I 
 went all over the Strand and Fleet Street again, and 
 watched the great tide of people coming and going 
 over Ludgate Hill. This and London bridge are to 
 me the most interesting thoroughfares in London. 
 They must be the great arteries compared to the 
 veins of other streets. Standing on the steps of St. 
 Paul's and looking down Ludgate Hill to Fleet Street 
 and the Strand is something worth living for. And at 
 election time (it was election time when we were here 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 1$3 
 
 last) Fleet Street — the newspaper street of London 
 — is a marvel of packed, struggling life (under silk 
 bats). Tuesday night we dined at the well-known 
 Ilolborn restaurant (High Holborn is pronounced 
 by the cabmen "i-obun"), where you get a table 
 d'hote dinner, with a fine orchestra from six to nine 
 o'clock. They lose mone}' on the dinner, but expect 
 you to order expensive wines. I am afraid they lost 
 on us, though we gave the waiter a good tip. 
 Wcdnesda}' I went to Booksellers' Row, as I said 
 above, and then to the column which commemorates 
 the burning of London and the consequent stopping of 
 the plague. I wanted to climb this merely to get a view 
 of London. It was too hazy a day, however, — though 
 it looked clear from the sidewalk, — and the wind blew 
 a gale at the summit ; so I had my climb for noth- 
 ing. I went through Maiden Lane and imagined 
 how Voltaire fled here, and how he got acquainted 
 with the famous writers of the day ; how they all 
 flocked here, — Addison, Steele, Congreve, and the 
 rest. But Maiden Lane has a ver} r business-like and 
 prosaic look now, as does Grubb Street at the other 
 end of the city, near Cheapside. Grubb Street is 
 Grubb Street no longer. If you ask ten men where 
 Grubb Street is, perhaps one will know, and he will tell 
 you it is now called Milton Street, after one Milton, 
 who renovated the street. lie renovated it with a Ven- 
 
164 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 geance, and it is the most uninteresting Philadelphian 
 kind of a warehouse street you ever saw. My ima- 
 gination simply could not work through those straight 
 high walls, and the swept-away houses of the Grubb 
 Street hacks would not come up before me. (Break- 
 fast time at the "Castle" Oxford, so must wait 
 awhile.) Thursday morning early Frank left for 
 Liverpool, and after seeing him off I went straight 
 to Covent Garden and saw the great early market. 
 All the adjoining streets were jammed with carts 
 from the county, and you never saw such luscious 
 fruits and vegetables. In the centre corridor of 
 Covent Garden you find the flower-stands, and you 
 see women and children coming early to buy little 
 nosegays, perhaps for their beaux, or more likely to 
 ornament the little boarding-house table. Covent 
 Garden is the great vegetable and fruit stand for 
 London, just as Billingsgate is the central fish-mar- 
 ket. I did not get up at 5 a. m. to go down to Bil- 
 lingsgate to hear the fish-women swear, for I hear 
 they swear no longer, and 5 a.m. is too early. Later 
 in the morning I took a boat at Westminster Bridge 
 and steamed down the river Thames to South wark 
 Bridge, which carries one over from Cheapside to 
 Bankside. Bankside is the site of the old Globe 
 Theatre where Shakespeare brought out his first plays, 
 and where he acted himself. Another stretch of the 
 
LETTERS FROM EUEOPE. 165 
 
 imagination is needed here, for the bank is pictur- 
 esque only in its ugliness. Walter Besant has de- 
 scribed it well in his rather prolix " Bell of St. 
 rani's." From Southwark I took a 'bus back to West- 
 minster Abbey, and finally got admission to the effigy 
 chamber. Emily had reminded me of this feature of 
 the Abbey, and Mrs. Lee had told me about it. The 
 collection is wonderfully interesting. It seems it 
 was a custom (since 1307) to have a funeral proces- 
 sion of the sovereign some two months after his 
 burial, and at these processions a wax effigy of the 
 deceased, dressed in the clothes he actually died in, 
 was carried to the cemetery. There were eleven 
 effigies altogether. Charles II., — face taken from 
 death-mask, and said to be an excellent likeness ! 
 This wax figure, with its historic associations, brought 
 the old-time court to m} r mind more forcibly than any- 
 thing I have seen in England. You saw in his figure, 
 with its long wig and the dark, large eyes, all the 
 excesses of the Restoration and all its splendors. 
 Besides Charles there was fat Queen Anne ; Elizabeth, 
 with a striking face and very gaudy dress ; Sheffield, 
 Duke of Buckingham, laid out just as though he 
 had died yesterda} r ; the Duchess of Buckingham 
 (his mother) ; the Duchess of Richmond, a handsome 
 woman, presented, as you ma}' remember, to Charles 
 II. by Louis XIV. of France. Then there was the 
 
166 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 elder Pitt, — a noble face, full and grave ; William and 
 Mary; and Lord Nelson. All of these, except- the 
 Duke of Buckingham, are standing, — all in glass 
 cases. In a closet, the guide told me, were a number 
 of fragments of effigies ; but these could not be seen. 
 The effigies before the Restoration were, I suppose, 
 destroyed by the Roundheads ; I do not understand 
 how Elizabeth's is here, but possibly this was made 
 later simply to set off the dress. When I went to the 
 Tower, the first time I was in London, and saw the 
 crown jewels and plate, I saw there were none earlier 
 than Charles II. The Cromwellians must have made 
 a clean sweep. In the afternoon I went through Bond 
 Street, where nearly every other store had a framed 
 certificate that the Queen or the Prince of Wales 
 made it a point to trade there, — prices, I suppose, 
 accordingly. Friday I left London for Oxford, arriv- 
 ing there at night ; and this morning, after breakfast, 
 I took my first stroll among the ivy-covered halls. 
 I had fancied Oxford University as being a great 
 clump of buildings set down in one great field. To 
 be sure, they are all near each other, — the colleges, — 
 but the city streets run all through them, and cut 
 them up into all sorts of squares and triangles. 
 The quadrangles are not like those of Harvard, but 
 are perfectly continuous, — the entrances and exits 
 being through archwajs. Of the colleges visited 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 1(37 
 
 this morning, — Pembroke, Christ Church, Oriel, Cor- 
 pus Christi, University, and Merton, — I find that 
 all the dormitories are either two or three storied. 
 Each college has its chapel, refectory or hall, and 
 library. I went through Christ Church College and 
 Merton quite carefully. Both are intensely interest- 
 ing, and when you read the names of the great 
 men who passed their youth here it makes the chills 
 go all over you. I was thrilled through standing in 
 the straight sun (for it does shine now and then 
 between the showers) . Christ Church College owed 
 everything to Wolse}'. This is considered the most 
 celebrated, but Merton College interested me more. 
 It is the oldest of all, and its Mob quadrangle, also 
 the oldest, is a most quaint bit, with its library form- 
 ing two sides of the square. This library is the 
 most charming one I ever saw, — fourteenth cen- 
 tury, the oldest "book retreat" in England. Almost 
 all the old books there have the marks of the chains 
 by which they were attached to the shelves. In one 
 case I saw just how it was done. The chains falling 
 over the titles of the books took up no room on the 
 shelf. I think it an encomium on the present age 
 that we trust men to take and return books, and do 
 away with even the prison chain. Merton Hall and 
 Chapel are beautiful. The interior of Christ Church 
 Cathedral — one of the earliest in England — is very 
 
168 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 handsome. I went through kitchens and refectories 
 (that of Christ Church College is very historic), and 
 if you remember John Inglesant, Charles I. held 
 his Parliament here in the stormy days of the Puri- 
 itan struggles, Handel gave concerts here, Queen 
 Elizabeth witnessed dramatic performances in the 
 hall, and her beastly old father had a banqueting 
 bee here. The high-timbered, arched ceilings, high 
 wainscoting, and the rows of portraits and the old 
 stained glass windows plentifully besprinkled with 
 the arms of Henry VIII. and Wolsey, make a most 
 lovely hall. It is their Memorial Hall, — I mean the 
 students', — and they sit on long benches without any 
 backs and eat at long tables. Of course Oxford is 
 empty now, and } T ou see simpty the townspeople and 
 tourists. Now and then 3 T ou come across a woman 
 sketching under some archway or in the corner of a 
 quadrangle ; but the colleges are deserted, and will be 
 for six weeks to come. I took a walk up to Folly 
 Bridge this morning, and had a look at the Thames, 
 where the college (not the university) races are 
 held. The college eights row two or three times a 
 year and "bunt" for their places. Brasenose has 
 up to this year, I believe, held first place ; but Mag- 
 dalen (pronounced " Maudlin " ) took the prize from 
 her this last time. 
 
 This afternoon I took another stroll about the col- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. Ill 9 
 
 leges, visiting Balliol, Trinity, Brasenose, and Mag- 
 dalen. The quadrangle of Balliol is beautiful, — 
 retired, with great towering trees just right to stud}' 
 under; but Magdalen, — this is the college for me, 
 with its wide grounds, its beautiful chapel and tower, 
 its cloisters encircling the great quadrangle, its broad 
 fields full of deer, its winding, tree-arched walks, 
 Addison's Walk along bv the Cherwell stream ; all 
 this is lovely. I walked, too, along the broad Christ 
 Church walk, and had a fair look at Merton across 
 the green meadow. Then I went down to the Thames 
 and took a boat out on the river. The banks were 
 lined with the college barges, — some gayly orna- 
 mented, some ver}' plain. The different college 
 crews use these for their dressing-rooms, just as 
 Harvard has her boat-house. Then I switched off 
 up the pretty little Cherwell stream with its dip- 
 ping willows, and rowed until I got a view of Mer- 
 ton tower across the meadows. It was strikingly 
 beautiful ; but, oh, how I longed for some one to sit 
 in the boat with me and to share the view ! I have 
 three golden rules for European travel, and I 'm going 
 to have them published. 
 
 1 . Don't go to Europe alone. 
 
 2. Reduce your luggage to lowest terms. 
 
 3. Get a working knowledge of French. 
 
 I must keep Stratford and Warwick lor my next 
 
170 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 letter. Stratford is beyond description ; it is a typi- 
 cal English village, — quiet, quaint, broad-streeted 
 old town ; it has the loveliest little church in the 
 world. 
 
 Hawarden, Sept. 6, 1892. 
 My dear E., — I left Oxford Saturday evening, 
 and a few hours' ride brought me to Stratford. It 
 was dark when I got there, and I went straight to 
 the Red Horse Tavern, known as Washington Irv- 
 ing's hotel ; but the prices were so steep that I took 
 rooms across the way at "The Old Red Lion," 
 where I got a good bed for a shilling and sixpence. 
 In the morning, of course, I darted off for Henley 
 Street, and saw the much modernized house where 
 Shakespeare was born ; but as it was a Sunday, I could 
 not get in ; but I had something better in view. It 
 was a beautiful morning, with a bright blue sk} T and a 
 brighter sun, and I was soon on my way over the 
 meadows and along a pretty, winding path to Anne 
 Hathaway's cottage. I wish you could have been 
 with me, for I passed the loveliest little thatched- 
 roof, low, rambling cottages you ever saw, with the 
 blue smoke curling comfortably out of low-set chim- 
 neys. The hedges were thick and green, and the 
 crazy-cushion flower-gardens bright with all kinds of 
 blossoms, especially the white and the purple asters. 
 Anne's cottage was about a mile and a half from 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 171 
 
 Will's, and put the latter quite in the shade for pic- 
 turesqueness. They do not admit visitors, as a rule, 
 on Sunday ; but when I told old lady Taylor that I 
 was to leave for Warwick that night, she graciously 
 waved me in and showed me the rooms, with many a 
 curiosity come down from the days of Anne. It was 
 a very quaint set of rooms, and the old lady took great 
 pride in keepiug them as they used to be. She be- 
 longs to the Hathaway family, and has lived in the 
 old house for nearly seventy years. Then I went 
 back to Stratford town, thinking as I went how Will 
 must have tramped these same meadows, and how 
 many times he must have gone from Anne's cottage 
 with the lightest heart in the world. I got to the 
 little parish church — Holj T Trinit\- — in the midst 
 of its quiet churchyard, just in time for service. It 
 was a very helpful one to me, and a great rest after 
 the ritual of the continental cathedrals. After service, 
 of course, I went into the chancel and saw Shakes- 
 peare's tomb and monument. The latter is a ver} T 
 cheap-looking affair ; but the stone in the pavement, 
 with the four well-known lines, was very inspiring to 
 me. After dinner I came back to the church and 
 sta} T ed through the children's service. I watched the 
 children as they came out, hordes of them, — very few 
 prett}' ones. The English children as a rule, so far 
 as I have seen, cannot compare with our American 
 
172 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 little ones. On the other hand, the young girls of 
 say twenty, of the middle class, are generally very 
 pretty. 
 
 Stratford-on- Avon is the loveliest town I ever was 
 in. It is typically English, with broad streets and 
 peaked honses, — the second stories pushed over 
 the first and threatening to come down upon you. 
 Then the narrow, dark Avon, with its lovely willows 
 and meadows, winds so prettily through the town ! I 
 fell in love with the place the moment I got up, that 
 Sunday morning. I went to the Memorial Theatre 
 after the second service at church, and saw the statue 
 of Shakespeare that was unveiled about four years ago. 
 It is very fine. Around the pedestal are four statues 
 taken from characters in his plays. The finest by 
 far, and really a masterpiece, is Hamlet, seated, in 
 deep thought, and looking at a skull which he holds 
 in his hand. The inscription above is, — well, I 've 
 forgotten it ! The other figures are Coriolanus (I 
 think), Lady Macbeth, and Falstaff. 
 
 I wandered about the streets of Stratford, looking 
 at the old Guild Chapel and the grammar school 
 where Will learned his A B C's, and at supper-time 
 took the train for Warwick, about half an hour's ride, 
 and went to the " Great Western Arms," a queer 
 little brick building that looked like a locomotive 
 round-house. Next morning was a perfect one, and 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. L73 
 
 instead of going to Warwick Castle I took the high 
 road for Kenilworth ; and a magnificent walk it was, 
 five miles over a perfect road and through lovely 
 meadows. Then I stood right in the midst of the 
 old ruins that Scott has so transfigured. The}' arc 
 very impressive with their grass-covered-tops and 
 ivy-covered 'walls. I went in and out all through 
 them, from tower to tower, and through what must 
 have been a splendid banqueting hall, and I re- 
 flected how often poor Amy Robsart had walked 
 there; I wondered, too, which was her tower; and 
 the memoiy of Scott's "Kenilworth" made the whole 
 visit fascinating to me. After I had been all through 
 the castle, I lay on a bench somewhat in front of 
 it and just drank the whole scene in. Returning 
 to Warwick, I went to the famous Warwick Castle, 
 — the best-preserved old castle in England, — and 
 the guide showed us ail through it. There are some 
 fine paintings in the state chambers, — lots of Van 
 D}*cks. I saw here another King Charles I. on horse- 
 back, b} T Van Dyck, similar to the one I saw in the 
 dining-hall of the Temple in London. But the finest 
 two pictures of the whole collection to me were a 
 head and shoulders of Charles I. by Van Dyck, and 
 a two-thirds by Rembrandt of the Dutch admiral 
 Van Tromp. The Charles I. is often copied. It is 
 superb. The grounds of Warwick are very fine ; 
 
174 SAMUEL FOSTEK MCCLEARY. 
 
 the Avon has its swans, and the gardens are full of 
 peacocks. The castle is great, but it hardly comes 
 up to my idea of a home, — it is too roomy and vast. 
 From Warwick I went to St. Mary's Church and saw 
 the Beauchamp Chapel, with the tomb of Robert 
 Dudley, Earl of Leicester (the husband of Amy 
 Robsart). 
 
 And now I am in Hawarden. I walked up from 
 Queen's Ferry at half-past six, so as to be at early 
 morning service in the old church, — where I saw 
 Gladstone ! He sat facing the aisle, and I sat back 
 and saw his profile. He had a shawl pinned about 
 his shoulders, and he held his large Prayer Book very 
 close to his eyes, turning the book and his head so 
 as to catch the light fairly. He responded in very 
 deep tones, coming in behind all the rest. In both 
 Old and New Testament lessons he followed every 
 word, read with his own Bible, and at the Gloria he 
 stood with the rest. One could tell Gladstone an}^- 
 where. He has a remarkable face, and his hair and 
 whiskers are almost white. After service I followed 
 him out and had a good look at him. I had heard 
 he was a little feeble in walking, but it 's no such 
 thing. He went off like a boy of twelve, and I had 
 to walk smartly to keep up with him. Half-way to 
 the gate of Hawarden Castle a lady met him and 
 walked along with him, and I saw him kiss her a good- 
 
LETTERS FROM EUROPE. 17.") 
 
 morning. He wove a very shabby straw hat, — varie- 
 gated straw, — a drab cape that did not quite cover 
 the tail of his light gray coat. And then off he 
 whisked through the gate, leaving me joyful that I 
 had seen for a few moments the Grand Old Man. 
 In a few minutes Ha warden will be open to visitors, 
 and then I may see him again. 
 
 From Hawarden I go to Chester, — the old walled 
 town, — and as I walk the rounds of the walls I 
 shall see " the sands o' Dee." Oh, England is a 
 fine country, and I do not wonder that her country- 
 men are proud of her ! I wish you could be with me 
 in some of the delightful strolls I have taken ! The 
 onty thing I miss is some one to delight in them 
 with me. 
 
SERMONS. 
 
SERMONS. 
 
 The temple of God is holy, which temple ye are. 
 1 Cor. iii. 16. 
 
 r I ^HIS Epistle to the Corinthians bears witness 
 -*■ from chapter to chapter of the difficulties that 
 met the early founders of the Christian Church. A 
 congregation of the faithful is brought together, or- 
 ganized, instructed, and inspired ; the master hand is 
 withdrawn, and straightway internal dissensions are 
 rife. The Thessalonian Church is depressed, Galatia 
 is weakening under Judaistic influences, Corinth is 
 torn with strife. Paul cannot be everywhere ; but his 
 letters, glowing with the heat of his fervent spirit, 
 are written to the several provinces. Now it is a 
 word of encouragement to the faint-hearted, a sum- 
 mons to the wavering, now a ringing rebuke to 
 backsliders. There is timidity here, doubt there, 
 and weakness on all sides ; but if there is one thing- 
 calculated to dismay even so persistent a worker 
 as Paul, it is the complication at Corinth. 
 
180 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 Corinth had been the last city in Greece to submit 
 to Roman rule. For splendor she was equalled only 
 by Athens, and on the decline of the latter she had 
 risen to the foremost place, and could justly claim 
 to be the representative seat of learning and culture 
 in Greece. Here was one cause of the difficulties 
 in the Corinthian Church. Of the believers Paul 
 had gathered about him there were persons of oppo- 
 site poles of culture. Some were indisputably bril- 
 liant, highly endowed ; others of very ordinary minds. 
 Besides, there were Jews as well as Gentiles in the 
 congregation, Jewish Christians under the law, and 
 the so-called proselytes of the gate. The inspiring 
 presence of Paul availed to keep these various ele- 
 ments at peace ; but as soon as the master had left 
 for new fields, discord got the better of unity. The 
 less cultivated in the Church, despised by their more 
 highly endowed brethren, regarded the latter with 
 envy. The simple doctrines of Jesus took a subor- 
 dinate place to the subtleties of philosophic dispute, 
 or to wranglings having no intellectual basis at all. 
 
 Worldliness began to creep into the Church. The 
 spiritual life of the young Gentile Christians was not 
 vigorous enough to keep them from the pleasures of 
 their discarded religions. They openly took part in 
 sacrificial feasts, and thereby easily fell prey to all 
 sorts of temptations. 
 
SERMONS. 181 
 
 As though to complicate the trouble, there were 
 at least three well-defined parties in the Church. 
 One faction followed the Alexandrian Apollos, at- 
 tracted by his philosophic discourse ; another, Cephas, 
 perhaps with a grave respect for the law ; while a 
 third still held to the broader teachings of Paul. 
 The conflicting claims of these factions were alone 
 sufficient to destroy the peace of the Church, and 
 when we add the corruption already hinted at, we 
 have a picture that baffles imagination. 
 
 This was the condition of things when Paul wrote 
 his wonderful first epistle to the Corinthians, — an 
 epistle that burns to-day with white-hot indigna- 
 tion, and yet, with all its sternness, standing as 
 the most beautiful expression since the days of 
 Jesus of the immortality of love and the truth of 
 immortality. 
 
 The words of Paul must have struck home to the 
 Corinthians. With all their weakness, bound over 
 as they were to envy, malice, and pride, the people 
 could not have failed to feel the sting of Paul's 
 rebuke. It was not the rebuke of the lash ; but 
 the gentler touch that reaches farther and deeper, 
 that brings the blood to the cheeks. Paul appeals 
 to their higher natures, — to the possibilities within 
 them. 
 
 "The temple of God is hoty, which temple ye 
 
182 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 are." It was as though he had said, " Hold, you 
 that are wasting your lives in vain wrangling and 
 folly, you know not what you are doing. You live 
 as though 3 t ou were accountable to j'our own poor 
 selves, while every moment in your lives is a trust 
 held of God." 
 
 " The temple of God is holy, which temple ye 
 are." There were as keen minds in Corinth in those 
 days as there are in our own time, and Paul took 
 care to use words that could be understood. Mark 
 the word "temple." Paul, to set forth the sanctity 
 of the human soul, declares it to be a temple. A 
 temple was universal^ sacred, — sacred to the Chris- 
 tian, the Pagan, and the Jew. It was synonymous 
 with the house of God. Corinth was full of temples, 
 — temples poised on beautiful white marble columns, 
 and holy from coping to foundation stone. They 
 were holy in tradition. They had fed the religious 
 longing of early generations, and in the imagination 
 of the worshippers they would stand holy in coming 
 years, when the present generation had passed away. 
 Even more did the word "temple" appeal to the man 
 of Jewish birth. Whether loyal to the old faith or 
 to the new, he still looked with veneration to the 
 dazzling temple on Mount Moriah. The traditions 
 of his boyhood were deep within him ; he gloried 
 in the history of his race, in the ark of the cove- 
 
SERMONS. 183 
 
 nant, the great temples of Solomon and of Herod, 
 and the black, dread Holy of Holies. So the Gentile 
 Christian, brought up in the midst of temples, finds 
 in his newer sanctuary, his humble meeting-place, a 
 
 special sanctity. Paul's word "temple," then, is well 
 chosen, for it is a word of universal significance. 
 But mark, now, that Paul did not say simply, " The 
 temple of God is holy," — such an appeal would 
 have had no practical effect, — but he adds, " which 
 temple ye are," and here the whole picture changes. 
 The idea that this or that environment is holy in 
 itself, these four walls, this spot of ground conse- 
 crated by tradition, is nothing to that nobler concep- 
 tion, that man is the temple of God, and, as such, is 
 holj'. Ye, as men, women, and children, are the real 
 temples of God; ye, as men, women, and children, 
 are holy. This was bold imageiy, even for the 
 Corinthians. Was man — a transitoiy being, a mere 
 moment in time, a breath — to be spoken of in terms 
 of the grand buildings of antiquity, standing through 
 generations of men? Yes, and in vastly higher 
 terms. Such temples are made with hands and are 
 torn down with hands. True, they have their tradi- 
 tions, but they are young compared to man's. We 
 can count the beginnings of temple structures, 
 but the beginnings of man are lost in the remote 
 past. 
 
184 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 The 3'ears of human experience back of us are as 
 unimaginable as the distance from star to star. 
 What our parents have learned in the course of 
 their lives, and have derived from the lives before 
 them, they transmit to us ; and we, moulding this 
 experience with the experience of our own lives, 
 pass the accumulated inheritance on to our children. 
 It may be extravagant to say that man has suffered 
 and triumphed, country has taken arms against 
 country, and nations have risen and fallen merely 
 for our sakes. It is of necessity true, however, that 
 we to-day reap the benefit of the trials and triumphs 
 of the past, — trials that perhaps have never been 
 chronicled, triumphs that have never been sung. 
 
 Paul, then, so far as tradition is concerned, was 
 more than justified in speaking of man as a temple 
 of God. But this is onty a bit of the story. 
 Wherein lies the peculiar sanctit}'. of man ? 
 
 Let us look for our answer at those very struc- 
 tures which we have already touched upon, which, 
 as we have seen, come instinctively to the minds of 
 all peoples when the word "temple" is uttered. We 
 have said they are not holy in themselves. What 
 is the deep truth that underlies them? Are they 
 not manifestations of the religious feelings in man ? 
 And are not these manifestations in some form uni- 
 versal? These buildings are not sacred in them- 
 
SERMONS. 185 
 
 selves, but sacred to that something divine in man 
 which inspired their erection. We feel the reality 
 of this something divine. We feel within us the 
 force of a higher personality, through whom only 
 can our personal life have meaning. As our life 
 develops we ever find this feeling of dependence 
 upon something more complete justified in our 
 thought. We see the world ordered for the good. 
 We look upon the beauty of the mountains and the 
 sea and know it in the light of a higher beauty. We 
 find how closely associated we are with our fellow- 
 men. Our life is touching now one life, now another ; 
 we give and take to find that we are but part of a 
 great world that is giving and taking. To us it is 
 given to cast the past into the future, to frame ideals 
 towards which we ever strive, but which ever give 
 way to higher and more boundless ones. The higher 
 we strive, the more clearly we see what we can 
 become, the more we feel the lack of that love, that 
 purity, that spirit of consecration through which 
 only life can begin to be real. Where is the mea- 
 sure of this love? Not in things temporal, but in 
 that unseen power which is perfect love and perfect 
 purity. 
 
 God is the actual of which we are the possibilities. 
 Our lives are but dim reflections of a perfect life. 
 It is the divine life within us that prompts us to the 
 
 24 
 
186 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 better, that is the spring of love, of kindness, and 
 of sympathy. It is in the light of this something 
 divine within us that we find the significance of 
 Saint Paul's words, " The temple of God is holy, 
 which temple ye are." ' ' Which temple ye are." 
 You are the substance of 3'our temples. The Church 
 is holy only as the gathering of personalties, the 
 communion of spirits. The true Church is com- 
 posed of as many temples as there are men in it, — 
 men who regard their lives, not as accountable to 
 themselves alone, but who recognize their debt to 
 their fellowmen ; men who, in virtue of their obedi- 
 ence to the call of their nobler natures, realize at 
 once the needs of the common life, its worth and 
 its possibilities. 
 
 We have seen how far below this standard were 
 the men of the Corinthian Church. Paul's letter is 
 a witness how time and again the people profaned 
 the temples of their own lives. The professed Chris- 
 tian reclining at the sacrificial feast of the heathen 
 has not the moral stamina to forbear for the sake of 
 example. How impetuously Paul, in this very 
 epistle, sweeps away all excuse. " If meat maketh 
 my brother to stumble I will eat no flesh while the 
 world standeth." Other members of the Church 
 falter in their convictions at the ridicule of their 
 unbelieving friends. Shallow doubt, wrangling, 
 
SERMONS. 187 
 
 biting malice are rife. There seems to be little 
 consciousness of the divine nature of man, of his 
 responsibility to his fellowmen, and to God. 
 
 We criticise the Corinthian Church, we applaud 
 Paul's zeal in going to the heart of the trouble in 
 urging men and women to recognize what they are, 
 and hence what they owe to one another. The 
 words fit into the life of to-da}- as exactly as they 
 did in the life of eighteen hundred years ago among 
 the temples of Corinth. 
 
 We are, each one of us, the high priest of our 
 temple. Are we worthy high priests ? Do we com- 
 monly act as though we were holy ? 
 
 It may savor of cant to say that we are continu- 
 al^ setting up idols in these our temples, but are 
 we not? We are quite often too near to these idols 
 to distinguish them clearly ; sadly enough it is when 
 our worship has ended that we see our idol in all 
 its distinctness. History gives us pronounced ex- 
 amples. When Napoleon swept Europe, from Mad- 
 rid to Moscow, overturning principalities, making 
 and unmaking kings, and carrying desolation to a 
 million peaceful hearths, the idol of ambition sat 
 enshrined in his soul, and he worshipped it as cer- 
 tainly as though it were an image of gold and silver. 
 
 In the political life of to-day there is a servile 
 worship of the idol of popularity. It is an idol 
 
188 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 freighted with loadstone, and our iron men, in 
 whose trust we would place our lives and our 
 honor, are drawn irresistibly towards it and are 
 one with it. 
 
 Here are the demands of a false societ}-, that 
 evokes dissimulation, creates false standards, en- 
 courages lightness in talk, and discounts earnestness. 
 How far are we to yield to such an idol ? Only so far 
 as we are blinded to the true standards of manhood 
 and womanhood. Once know whence we are and 
 what we are for, and the idol we have worshipped 
 looms up in all its hideousness, and we shun it. So 
 our cherished fantasies, if not wisely selected, may 
 lead our thoughts into special channels, to the detri- 
 ment of our larger life. If we must have hobbies 
 let us have worthy ones, — not hobbies that take us 
 out of relation to our fellow men, but hobbies which 
 tend to increase our sympathies. There is no reason 
 why we should not have a hobby of earnestness, of 
 wise enthusiasm, of kindness, of charity, or of larger 
 devotion to what is sober and sensible. Here we 
 are serving something that grows more lovely to us 
 the more we serve it. Aaron Burr served vanit} T , 
 in the end found its worthlessness ; the politician 
 cast aside learns too late the shallowness of the 
 popularity he courted ; the champion of a false 
 society finds his pleasure tiresome and takes off 
 
SERMONS. 189 
 
 the tinsel ; but did ever an}' one that you know, or 
 that you ever heard of, find the service of sobriety 
 and common-sense, of love and charity, really 
 empty and vain? No. The springs are inherent 
 in our very natures given us of Him who is the 
 source of all goodness. It is in virtue of our par- 
 taking in this goodness that we are in a real sense 
 hoi}'. As we search the spring to know it, as we 
 ever get nearer to the source where the waters are 
 clearer and sweeter, this conception grows that we 
 — we in all our limitations, all our weaknesses — 
 are really holy, really temples of God. 
 
 How shall we keep our temples holy? By good 
 works? Yes, but this is not all. We must cherish 
 those aspirations which prompt to good works, which 
 make good works easy. One may be incapable of 
 actively assisting one's neighbor, and yet be truly 
 hoi}'. Go to a sick-room where a poor woman, say, 
 has been lying on her back even from her girlhood. 
 We know of many such, and we have heard from 
 our childhood, when we have complained of petty 
 things, how nobly she had borne her lot ; with what 
 sweet patience, with what Godlike serenity she had 
 risen above her racking pains and seemed to live a 
 soul apart from bod}'. She could not actively minis- 
 ter to men, but was she none the less holy ? In the 
 weakness of her body there was the fulness of life, — 
 
190 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 that same quality of life that prompts us to acts of 
 sympathy and mercy. She had recognized with the 
 great teacher her birthright in God, and was strong 
 in the thought. We, too, must cherish this spirit, 
 and through this spirit seek God. He is to be found 
 in every walk of life. In the little child whom you 
 befriended to-day }^ou saw Him ; in the man, whom 
 in perfect accord with justice you defended in the 
 court, you saw Him ; in the patient you have 
 attended at the very risk of your life, and of the 
 more precious lives of your wife and children, you 
 saw Him. In all the good acts of life, all the 
 deeds of mercy, and charity, and love, you feel that 
 you have found something real. Oh that we might 
 have a larger enthusiasm for the sacredness of 
 endeavor, a tithe of the spirit that filled Fra An- 
 gelica, who, at the first glow of morning, took up 
 his brush and painted all day to the glory of God ; 
 that a shadow of this spirit might inspire the 
 lowlier duties of life ; that we could feel the real 
 strength of Herbert's words : — 
 
 " Who sweeps a room as for thy law, makes that 
 and the action fine." 
 
 " The temple of God is holy, which temple ye 
 are." And does it not follow that wherever we are 
 is holy ground? The crowded streets of our cities, 
 the winding roads of the country, the sea that carries 
 
SERMONS. 191 
 
 the frail ships, wherever man has put his hand, here 
 is hoty ground. And much more indeed where God 
 has put His hand there is holy ground. II is pres- 
 ence manifested in man and nature makes the whole 
 earth holy. 
 
 Then, if God has made us temples of His spirit, 
 let us cherish this spirit in all earnestness and devo- 
 tion, giving the hand of fellowship to all as to 
 brothers and sisters. Let us be conscious of our 
 common aims, and, through the dignity of our ser- 
 vice, of our common worth. 
 
 " For all things are yours, whether Paul or 
 Apollos, or Cephas, or the world, or things pres- 
 ent, or things to come, all are }'ours ; and ye are 
 Christ's, and Christ is God's." 
 
 If the divine life is cherished in the temple of 
 our lives we shall see more and more about us the 
 light of other temples. We shall feel how truly God 
 has made us a little lower than the angels, and that 
 in the very least of his servants there is that trust 
 that is the inspiration of the mightiest. We are all 
 of the dust — all of the spirit. As we are of the 
 dust so shall we share the fate of the dust, and as 
 we are of the spirit so shall we share the immortal 
 hope of the spirit. " Then shall the dust return to 
 the earth as it was, but the spirit shall return unto 
 God, who gave it." 
 
192 SAMUEL FOSTEE MCCLEARY. 
 
 II. 
 
 Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. 
 Matt. v. 8. 
 
 JESUS is seated on the Mount of Olives just out- 
 side the cit} r of Jerusalem preaching to the 
 crowds of people that have gathered on the hill- 
 sides. It is when the disciples have taken their 
 places near him that the Master begins the teach- 
 ing which we in our day know as the Sermon on the 
 Mount. In the different faces turned up to his, 
 Jesus reads their several life stories. He sees per- 
 sons before him who have lived quietly and humbly, 
 men and women who have loved peace and striven 
 to increase it in their homes. He sees the strongly 
 marked faces of those who have borne sorrow for the 
 sake of a true life, of those who have been laughed 
 to scorn, because they had dared to stand for the 
 Christ. To all of these Jesus speaks words of strength 
 and hopefulness which, coming from a life that has 
 known sorrow, go straight home to the hearts of his 
 hearers. But of all the blessings that the Master 
 utters there is none so calm and clear and peaceful 
 
SERMONS. 193 
 
 as that of our text: " Blessed are the pure in heart, 
 for they shall see God." It is a bold saying, " shall 
 see God." 
 
 We have read stories of olden time where saints 
 by their strict self-discipline, through sleepless nights, 
 through fasting and constant prayer have seemed 
 to be lifted out of their earthly life and have seen 
 heaventy visions. In the Acts of the Apostles we 
 read how Stephen as he was being stoned to death 
 declared that he saw the heavens open, disclosing 
 Christ with the Father. We know how Gideon, in the 
 Bible legend, as he was threshing wheat to save it from 
 the Midianites, saw the angel of the Lord face to 
 face ; and how, in another stoiy, Manoah cried out in 
 fright fearing he would die, because verily he had 
 seen God. 
 
 But all this must have been very far from the mind 
 of Jesus when he said that the pure in heart should 
 see God. In his thought to see God was not to 
 behold him with the bodily eye. 
 
 If any of his disciples had asked Jesus if they 
 could really see God out of their eyes, the Master 
 would have replied in the words of John's Gospel, 
 " No man hath seen God at any time." No, in this 
 sense we cannot see God any more than we can see 
 the life-spirit that makes the flower bloom or the tree 
 spread forth its branches. 
 
194 SAMUEL FOSTEE MCCLEARY. 
 
 Again, we cannot believe that Jesus in this prom- 
 ise that the pure in heart should see God referred 
 simply to the life after this earthly one. The religion 
 of Jesus as we know it from his teachings was prac- 
 tical. Lofty as it was, it was fitted for daily life. 
 His precepts were such that men could put them in 
 use at the very instant of hearing them. Thus when 
 the Master gave the promise that the pure in heart 
 should see God, he did not mean simply you who are 
 of pure heart shall in the life to come behold the 
 Father, but more than this, — you who are pure in 
 your daily actions, in thought and speech and deed, 
 you shall see God here on earth ; right in your own 
 households, if your house shelters pure lives ^ right 
 in the midst of your business cares, if } T our business 
 is carried out on pure principles ; yes, in the very 
 thick of your busy work-day life, if your purpose is 
 clean and high and honorable, 3'ou shall see. God. 
 
 And now how is it that we can say that we can see 
 God? Turn to the best memories of your own life, 
 — to the moments when you have been really true to 
 the tasks you knew were rightfully yours. Perhaps 
 you recall some little matter where your honor was 
 at stake. You owed a small sum of money, — a ver} r 
 petty sum. Perhaps the person to whom you owed it 
 did not really need it ; — perhaps he had forgotten all 
 about it ; you had not forgotten, and to be true to 
 
SERMONS. 195 
 
 yourself you were bound to pay it. Though no one 
 ever might have known the difference, you felt a call 
 upon you to pay that debt. You despised the easy and 
 cheap advice of those about you who cried, " Keep 
 still ; " who told you that honor was but a name ; that 
 men are not expected to be saints ; that no matter how 
 men act, it will make no difference fifty years hence. 
 With j'our determination to do what your heart coun- 
 selled as right you felt how cowardly such worldly cries 
 were, and you left them in contempt to die away in 
 the air. You heard a voice that was true say to you, 
 " Hold fast ! I, Honor, am far more than a name. I 
 have a divine right to rule in your heart. Whatever 
 your rank or place in life, you are so to act as to be 
 depended upon. Stand, there ! " And when you have 
 stood as honor demanded, what has been the result? 
 Have you not felt a peace that the circumstances of 
 life could not shake, — yes, a true, inward peace that 
 you know could not be bought with a price, which was 
 far and awa} r above all that physical ease or leisurely 
 enjoyment could give ? And what was it that made this 
 inward contentment so true and secure ? Truly, noth- 
 ing less than the very presence of God in you. You 
 stood calm and content because you stood with him ; 
 your heart was at rest because it had, in accepting 
 his call to dut3', accepted him. In being true to 
 3'ourself, you were true to him. In obeying the voice 
 
196 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 of honor, } T ou felt the Divine presence. Through the 
 manliness of your action, through the purity of your 
 heart, you felt God, you knew God, and so did you 
 not truly see him ? And as with honor, so with those 
 other feelings that you and I and all men know to be 
 wortlry, — the feelings of charity, S3 7 mpathy, love, — 
 all these enter into purity of heart. Purity of heart 
 is purity of life, and according as we live it out in 
 high lives we find the strength of the divine life 
 coming into ours, fitting us to be braver over each 
 new temptation. 
 
 Oh, my friends, is not this the beautiful truth 
 that Jesus taught to those who followed him ? The 
 pure in heart should see God not through the out- 
 ward vision ; but they should feel his holy presence 
 in their hearts, and by this presence they should 
 know him. To see God, so far as one is pure, is to 
 see him not with the outward eye, but with the in- 
 ward eye of the soul. 
 
 Do you say that this message of Jesus, that the 
 pure in heart should see God, is meant more for the 
 quiet walks of life than for the rougher? That it is 
 well enough for the Church, but not for the world 
 of men? There can be no greater mistake than to 
 suppose this. 
 
 The preaching of Jesus was not for certain condi- 
 tions of life or for special little circles of men and 
 
SERMONS. 197 
 
 women. He did not devote his life to a church, or 
 to a sect, or a part}\ He spoke straight out to all 
 men : his words went from the hill-top, and struck 
 into all places ; they were meant for the haggling 
 selfishness of the market and the street as well as 
 for the quiet of the fireside. When he said, " Blessed 
 are the pure in heart, for they shall see God," it was 
 true for the battle of life itself, — true for the dairy 
 struggles in our big cities, where men and women 
 grow weary and haggard and heartsick over the fight 
 for food and lodging. It is just here that we want to 
 find God, and feel him, and see him. It is just in 
 the noise and tumult and rush of life that this mes- 
 sage of Jesus comes with greatest strength. It tells us 
 that if we will keep our thoughts fixed on things that 
 are high, keep our will steadfast upon doing faithfully 
 each little duty, and trust to the divine light within 
 us, the peace that passeth understanding will come, 
 — yes, in the midst of the harshest noises of the 
 day. 
 
 We have seen now what the Master meant when 
 he said that the pure in heart should see God ; and 
 now cannot we understand why he used the words, 
 " Blessed — blessed are the pure in heart " ? Blessed 
 are you when through devoted lives }*ou see God. 
 For is not the peace of God its own blessing? When 
 we have the feeling that near us, even in heart-break- 
 
198 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 ing moments, there is a Father who will take our 
 heart-secrets when there is no human soul for us to 
 unbosom them to, — a Father who really is a foun- 
 tain of strength to us, if we will only take of the 
 water of life that he offers us ; if we can feel and 
 see that Father, who would guide us as his children, 
 then we are indeed blessed. 
 
 Again, with this peace we are blessed because we 
 feel ourselves to be one with all the world of pure 
 hearts that are doing God's will. And what a beau- 
 tiful thought that is ! We are not away from the 
 best of life ; we are not looking on from the out- 
 side. No, we are a part of it ; we are working 
 hand in hand and shoulder to shoulder with those 
 who work in the light of the same great peace, under 
 the touch of the same life-giving hand, under the 
 watch of the same all-seeing eye. There are cares 
 that crowd upon us, there are troubles that come 
 like pouring rain ; but trustingly bearing them, we 
 shall feel the companionship of those who are meet- 
 ing just such troubles and cares for the same good 
 cause ; and in the endurance of things that are hard 
 to bear we understand something of the lives of the 
 brave and true that have gone before us. When, 
 with the divine peace that obedience to duty brings, 
 we are brave in accepting a harder earthly lot, we 
 feel the glory that must have filled the martyr who 
 
SERMONS. 199 
 
 went to the stake for that peace. These men, — the 
 apostles, the martyrs, — with all they dared, with all 
 they endured, belong to us, when we dare to stand 
 erect with our God in the little daily martyrdom 
 of life. Yes, blessed are we when the peace of God 
 dwells in us, for we can endure. 
 
 Further, does it not seem to you that the pure in 
 heart are blessed because they can look at life purely, 
 — look at it, as it were, out of God's ey es ? Not that 
 the pure-hearted are blind to the selfishness and greed 
 and sin in the world ; far from it. The higher we 
 train our lives, the more hideous sin must become to 
 us, the more intense the desire to fight against it. 
 Rather, I mean that the pure in heart look for the 
 good that is in life, and it is they who can find it, 
 though often it lurk under the thick covering of evil. 
 When a man is intensely selfish, given up to think- 
 ing only of himself, he must always think of others 
 as selfish ; he expects selfishness ; he looks for it be- 
 fore all else in the men with whom he is dealing. 
 The man who is given over to sharp practice is 
 alwa}'s on the look-out to prevent other men from 
 cheating him. And how often we see the fearful 
 anxiety of the suspicious man ! He is in constant 
 agon}- : every soul he meets he suspects ; through the 
 uneasiness of his own heart the first thing he looks 
 for in others is to see if there is a trace of suspicion of 
 
200 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 his person in their faces or their manner. The woman 
 who cannot fix her mind on anything higher than 
 criticising her neighbor's affairs, who talks meanly 
 when her neighbor's back is turned, must look upon 
 others as though they too spent their time in just this 
 way. As our heart is, so we look upon the life about 
 us. The man who is pure in heart is glad to look 
 for whatever is pure. His first thought on meeting 
 a fellow-man is not that of suspicion, of uneasiness, 
 of jealous self-guard. Rather, he meets him squarely 
 and honestly, ready to take him at his best. He 
 expects a fair response ; he believes that men are 
 capable one and all of being high-minded and pure 
 in thought, and for these high feelings he is on the 
 look-out. In a word, the pure in heart looks upon 
 life as though God were in it, as he truly is. 
 
 And finally, are not the pure in heart blessed be- 
 cause they not only look for the good in life as well 
 as work for it, but also because b} r their very desire 
 to find out the good the} 7 really increase it ? Feeling 
 the peace of God's presence, the}' shed it abroad. 
 My friends, can we not see the truth of this every 
 day, — yes, right in our streets? We can tell the 
 pure in heart by the very light of the face. Some- 
 times it is a gladsome, fair face, outspoken ; or it is 
 the sadder face of the Madonna ; or the face may 
 not be beautiful, — it may be pinched and careworn 
 
SERMONS. 201 
 
 and lined ; but we can tell when the lines have 
 been creased by the bearing of care for duty's sake. 
 We are not deceived by the lines on that face. 
 There are lines that come into the criminal's face, 
 — into the faces of those who live loosel} 7 and faith- 
 lessly, of those whose hearts are impious and im- 
 pure : we can tell these. But the face that has the 
 lines of persecution for righteousness' sake shows us 
 again the story of the Cross, and that face strength- 
 ens us. There is a serenity there that is only found 
 in the fire of Christ-like suffering. It is beautiful, 
 this face, in spite of its careworn, furrowed cheeks, 
 for it is warmly rich in spirit. As it has seen God 
 through the purity of its life, it helps us to feel him 
 and see him too ; it is blessed. It was on just such 
 faces that Jesus looked, as he sat that da\ T on the 
 Mount of Olives and uttered his blessings. He spoke 
 these blessings for all time. They were for us, un- 
 friends, as well as for the men and women of Judea. 
 The voice still calls to us ; the promise is ours. Shall 
 we live pure lives for God's sake ? Shall we accept 
 and obey the high feelings he has planted in our 
 hearts? Shall we choose to seek his peace, to feel 
 his presence, to see him, and, having seen him, to 
 give out his peace in our own lives? The Spirit 
 cries, " If ye so do, blessed are ye ! " 
 
 26 
 
202 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 III. 
 
 I will lay down my life for thy sake. — John xiii. 37. 
 
 '"PHESE are Peter's words. It was at Jerusalem 
 at the time of the last supper. The disciples 
 were gathered in the large upper room of the house 
 that Jesus had chosen, to take for the last time with 
 their Master the bread and wine of the passover. 
 The disciples, it would seem, felt the seriousness of 
 this visit to the holy city. True, their Master had 
 been greeted with hosannas, and his path made glad 
 with the palm branches ; but those who so rejoiced 
 were but a small part of the people, and a despised 
 lot too, in the eyes of those in authorhyy. The glad 
 voice of the publican and the sinner only made the 
 jealousy and distrust of the Pharisee the more bitter. 
 If Jesus had entered the gates in triumph it was to 
 meet his death the more speedily. Jesus confirmed 
 this foreboding as he sat at table with his followers, 
 and broke the bread with them. 
 
 We can picture the solemnity of this meeting. 
 At such a time the faces of all must have been 
 
SERMONS. 203 
 
 turned full upon his, their eyes on his, their whole 
 minds bent to receive his thoughts and to make 
 them their own. We can well believe that the words 
 which Jesus uttered entered deep into hearts that 
 could never forget them. It was an evening of 
 sadness and of awe, of love and reverence. After 
 the passover was eaten Jesus rose from the table, 
 and despite the remonstrances of Peter, performed 
 that simple and lowl}' act so in harmony with his 
 life-work. Girding a towel about him, he washed 
 his disciples' feet, showing that even as he had been 
 a servant to mankind, so the}' in their several minis- 
 tries could lead men only by serving them. And 
 then, as if to gather all his past teaching into one 
 great thought, he spoke those few words which have 
 such a fulness and reach to-day: "A new com- 
 mandment I give unto 3'ou, that ye love one another ; 
 as I have loved you that ye also love one another. 
 By this shall all men know that ye are nry disciples, 
 if ye have love one to another." 
 
 Then Peter, quick, impetuous, with that sudden- 
 ness of speech that singled him out among the dis- 
 ciples, declared his lo} T aby. Jesus had said to him, 
 4 ' Whither I go thou canst not follow me ; " and 
 Peter answered, "Lord, why cannot I follow thee? 
 I will lay down my life for tlry sake." 
 
 In the early morning, as we know, Jesus was 
 
204 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 betra3 r ed into the hands of the Jews, and every 
 disciple fled. 
 
 It is one of the mysteries that the history of the 
 times has brought down to us. This little hand of 
 followers, who in their Master's name had sacrificed 
 what men hold dear, who had turned their faces 
 from home and bade good-by to friends and kin- 
 dred to follow him they loved to call their Lord, 
 they, whose lives had been tempered in his service 
 to endure reproaches and persecution, — these men, 
 when the hour of trial came, fled like so many 
 timid sheep. Where was that love, that fealty, that 
 devotion that had so filled them with manful purpose 
 only a few hours before? Where was Peter? 
 
 The Gospel tells us that after the disciples had 
 forsaken Jesus and fled, Peter followed his Master 
 afar off. Perhaps in his flight the thought of his 
 weakness shamed him and checked him ; or perhaps 
 the very fear of what was to come made him turn, for 
 he did turn, and at a distance followed Jesus and his 
 captors to the high-priest's palace. He even entered 
 with the throng, and mingling with the servants waited 
 anxiousty to see what would follow. And we know 
 what did follow : how he was recognized by the 
 servants, and how, fearful of his life, he declared in 
 the very presence of his Master, "I know not the 
 man of whom you speak." 
 
SERMONS. 205 
 
 An impulsive soul, such as Peter's, easily gives 
 wa} T to remorse. It would seem that as soon as 
 he uttered his cowardly denial, the consciousness 
 of his weakness came upon him. What a con- 
 trast between the impetuous self-surrender at the 
 supper and the measured words of this hour, — 
 "I will lay down my life for thy sake;" "I 
 know not the man of whom you speak " ! There 
 is no reason to believe that the brave words of 
 the evening of the passover were spoken other- 
 wise than from the very depths of Peter's nature. 
 In that hour of intense earnestness, when the fuller 
 meaning of all that his Master had said and clone in 
 his ministry was made manifest, the spirit of the 
 apostle was exalted, and he felt that he could make 
 an}' sacrifice were it for that Master's sake ; but at 
 the actual hour of trial, at the test minute, this 
 heightened spirit had ebbed. Peter was a frail 
 man ; the body was master of the soul. 
 
 As we think over this story of Peter, do we not 
 find it t} r pical of the life that many of us are leading 
 from day to day? I do not mean that the arrant 
 faithlessness of Peter is characteristically human ; by 
 no means. History shows her armies of saints and 
 martyrs who stood with their Christ ; and our daily 
 life, with all its conceits and follies, is full of brave 
 souls who are living for him to-daj'. No, it is not 
 
206 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 the faithlessness of Peter that I would call so human- 
 like, but rather the striking contrast of confident 
 strength and actual weakness. Like Peter, we have 
 our moments of exaltation, when the spirit is fer- 
 vent, when our purposes are high, when we are 
 above circumstance, and are afraid of nothing. At 
 such moments we rejoice in our strength ; we re- 
 solve to devote our lives to the accomplishing of 
 our purposes ; yes, if need be, la} T down our lives. 
 And then of a sudden, or it ma} 7 be gradually, there 
 is a sorrowful ebbing of the spirit, that strength 
 that had upheld us fades out, outward circum- 
 stances assert themselves, and then, like Peter, 
 unmindful of our better moments, we become the 
 creatures of the hour. 
 
 I have said that like Peter we have our moments 
 of enthusiasm when the call to brave and true action 
 meets a ready response ; when we feel impelled to 
 obey what at the time makes a demand upon us. 
 Perhaps it is the influence of a strong example in 
 daily life that stirs us, — an example, say, of simple, 
 patient devotion to duty. Run back a little in 3'our 
 own life. Take that very common experience where 
 3 r ou have seen persons in far less advantageous cir- 
 cumstances than yours nevertheless doing what they 
 had to do with patience. You can find the hero or the 
 heroine in the field or in the mines, in the home, in 
 
SERMONS. 207 
 
 the factor}'. Go into the mill where acres of looms 
 are crashing, and there is one continual racket. You 
 notice how the weavers stand hour after hour watch- 
 ing the maze of threads as the}' wind from the bob- 
 bins ; stopping the great machine at the call of a 
 single thread, and how often the threads break ! A 
 quick eye is needed, instant response of nimble fin- 
 gers, and trained nerves to stand the fearful noise. 
 You wonder at the patience of this woman whose 
 loom is working badly. You feel that if you were in 
 her place you would go distracted. True, the weaver 
 is quite used to her work, her nerves are less sensi- 
 tive than yours ; but what of that, has not she her 
 hundred worries. A slip in the work means danger 
 ahead for her. Her comfort in life depends upon the 
 whirl of the bobbin and the darting of the shuttle ; 
 and the bobbin and shuttle must be watched with a 
 jealous eye. Let her work fall below the mark in 
 quantity of yards woven, or in quality of texture, 
 and the door of the mill is, perhaps, closed upon 
 her. There are hundreds of applicants ready to take 
 her place if she cannot hold it with the best. And 
 then, besides, she is patient under so many hardships. 
 The room is stuffy, there is next to no chance at 
 fresh air and less at sunshine, and to stand all day is 
 hard enough for a man. Yet, so far as you see, and 
 if your eyes are open you have seen such cases often, 
 
208 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 she does her work without murmuring ; there are 
 obstacles to be overcome minute after minute, and 
 she overcomes them. Perhaps you go away with a 
 feeling that here you have found a truer patience 
 than your own life can show. You may feel that in 
 justice to that woman, if to no other human being, you 
 must show yourself in your work as patient as she is 
 in hers. Yes, you will be patient hereafter, happen 
 what may. When your work is tiresome, you say to 
 3^ourself, you will not make it more so by whimpering ; 
 when you are tempted to fly into anger, or to break 
 out in complaining, jou will set your teeth and clinch 
 your hands and hold on to yourself. At such mo- 
 ments as these you read with a deal of satisfaction 
 such words as Peter used, " I will lay down my life 
 for thy sake." Have we not all of us had such 
 strenuous moments ? But, alas ! how short a time is 
 the spirit the master ! A new day and a disappoint- 
 ment comes, some little difficulty that we had not 
 counted upon, a friend has not arrived whom we 
 wanted to see, or a man has come in whom we did n't 
 care to see, and then good-by to our patience and 
 its inspiration. We are annoyed and vexed, and we 
 show it plainly. Then the old adage proves itself, 
 that whereas philosophy may triumph over past and 
 future ills, present ills triumph over philosophy. The 
 disappointment masters us, and yet as we fret our 
 
SERMONS. 209 
 
 time away, there still goes on within a stone's throw of 
 us, from minute to hour, da} r b} T da}', the quiet, con- 
 stant, courageous work of souls whose cares are 
 heavier, perhaps, than ours, — work which, as we 
 saw it, brought upon us the mingled sense of admira- 
 tion and shame ; patient work which at the time 
 seemed to spur us on to renewed activity in our own 
 vocation. Ours was a manly purpose to live a more 
 manl}' life, if only in regard to this one virtue pati- 
 ence, and now a trifling difficulty throws us off the 
 track. 
 
 We can smile, perhaps, when children fall short 
 of accomplishing their breathless ambitions, rejoicing 
 that they have such wealth of enthusiasm, no matter 
 what fruit it brings forth. But we are not children. 
 Experience has given balance to our minds and re- 
 sponsibilities direction to our lives. The time is 
 passed when we can excuse our caprice of spirit or 
 expect others to look lightl}- upon it. Our lives are 
 measured not so much b}- the ideals that we frame 
 for ourselves, as by the constancy with which we live 
 up to them. If our lives are to be heightened at this 
 moment only to be depressed at the next, if the in- 
 spiration of the hour that is past cannot aid us in 
 bearing what the next hour ma} T bring forth, we are 
 justty called weak. Can we sa}- in the morning, " I 
 will be patient ! " and in the shadow of the evening 
 27 
 
210 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 when disappointment comes, " I cannot be patient ! " 
 Can we say this and respect ourselves as we would 
 have others respect us ? And as with patience, so with 
 other qualities, — patriotism, courage, truthfulness, 
 cheerfulness, charity, and love. How the spirit flows 
 and ebbs ! You see, perhaps, as never before, the 
 importance of doing your part, even though it be a 
 small one, and you resolve to do what 3-ou can. But 
 time with its cares rolls on, and that bit of your 
 heart that was to be devoted to Christian aid in the 
 leisure moment, is not responsive to the call. You 
 go to church, and there is something in the still- 
 ness of the communion that touches and lifts 30U. 
 You may have had some sad experience that has 
 weighted your heart or made you think more soberh\ 
 The deep tones of the organ thrill you, and you seem 
 to rise into another and higher self; or, perhaps, 
 there is an inspiring word in the hymn or a comfort- 
 ing thought in the prayer. You feel that till now you 
 did not know the depths of your own nature. You 
 feel how near the men and women about you are to 
 you. They too are met for the same communion, to 
 offer a prayer to the same God, their Father and 
 your Father. They really help you in your devotion, 
 — so, perhaps, 3'ou help them. You feel now what 
 persons have often said, and how true it is, that men 
 and women are in the world here to work with one 
 
SERMONS. 211 
 
 another and help and inspire one another. You be- 
 lieve, indeed, that love is the greatest thing in the 
 world. You have not loved as }ou could ; you will 
 henceforth. You feel that it would be a privilege to 
 laj* down your life for another. What an opportunity 
 Peter missed ! Oh, that we could keep this vision ! 
 If only in the six days of the crowded, rushing week 
 we could carry with us the inspiration that we have 
 found in our quiet moments of devotion ! It is 
 very humiliating, this grasping of the high pur- 
 pose for one moment to set it aside at the next. 
 There is more to be said than this. We have no 
 right to set it aside. What do we mean when we 
 say that we are stirred by the patience, say, of the 
 weaver at her loom, — a patience greater than our 
 own, that as we regard it, nerves us to work with equal 
 calmness? What do we mean when we say that the 
 history of our countiy inspires in us a more fervent 
 patriotism, leading us to ever increasing respect for 
 the soldier and the sailor, the husband and the wife 
 who have helped carry this county through her 
 crises, who have builded her up and left her to us, a 
 priceless inheritance ? What is this broadened sym- 
 pathy that the needs of the unfortunate in a civilized 
 community call forth ? What is this love so transcen- 
 dent^ greater than our own, but of which our little 
 love is a part, the love that lifts us from our self- 
 
212 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 centred lives into the larger relations of life, making 
 us more sensible of the common interests and our 
 responsibilities to them? What, I repeat, do we 
 mean when we say that we are inspired by these ex- 
 amples of patience and of patriotism, of sympathy 
 and love ? Is it not that we have found these quali- 
 ties in greater measure elsewhere than in our own 
 lives, and that we find ourselves led irresistibly to 
 recognize in the worth of these qualities their abso- 
 lute fitness for the only manly life ? 
 
 In the verj- idea of the greater and calmer patience 
 there is a call to put aside the complaining spirit that 
 so ill becomes us ; in the light of a truer patriotism 
 we have done with the notion that we can be careless 
 of the interests of our country ; in the strength of a 
 greater love and sympathy we spurn those ends that 
 tend to make a breach between us and our fellow- 
 men, and we unite as children of a common Father, — 
 to help one another ; to love one another even as 
 Jesus Commanded : " By this shall all men know that 
 ye are my disciples that ye have love one to an- 
 other." In the approach to these larger and nobler 
 qualities we really find our true selves. In a word, 
 when we are inspired, as we daily are by some ex- 
 ample of ■thoughtfulness, or of goodness, or of holi- 
 ness, it means that we have so far made an approach 
 to the stature and fulness of the perfect manhood to 
 
SERMONS. 213 
 
 which God is calling us. Having once entered upon 
 the larger life, then, it is not only humiliating, but 
 we have no right to desert it, to shrink back into the 
 narrow compass of our smaller selves. Should we 
 do this, do we not den}' our God just as Peter in the 
 house of the high priest at Jerusalem denied his 
 Master? 
 
 We justly condemn Peter, but look for a moment 
 at what Peter did after speaking those nine cold 
 words, " I know not the man of whom you speak." 
 When the fearful comparison forced itself upon him 
 of what he was and what he might have been, how 
 he had surrendered what was true for what was false 
 and illusory, that saving his life in this manner was 
 nothing less than losing it, — with this consciousness 
 what did he do? Like a man he faced the high 
 ideals that he had betrayed, he devoted his life to 
 the service of his fellow-men ; and it is to the glory 
 of the apostle that in the end he literally fulfilled his 
 exclamation of the night of the passover, — "I will 
 lay down my life for thy sake." 
 
 If, then, we have failed to be as loyal to our pur- 
 poses uttered at our best moments, it remains for us 
 to make a good stand at once and try to cany them 
 out, and strive to hold our lives up to the level of 
 the highest impulses within us. If we have been 
 touched by a truer patience than ours, ought we not 
 
214 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 to be more patient than we have been ? We will use 
 a little heart, a little will, and be patient. If we are 
 inspired to a deeper love of country, whether from 
 the monuments of her heroes or from the activity of 
 the brave men and women who are living for her to- 
 day, we too must be strong in our service to this 
 land. 
 
 And finally, if we are inspired to kindle a more 
 fervent and wide reaching love, and to trust in our 
 fellow-man and in our God, let us hold firmly to these 
 thoughts. The moments in which we feel our kinship 
 to our neighbor are the true moments of life. There 
 is no illusion here ; rather it comes when we think 
 that we are working alone and are sufficient to our- 
 selves. No, men are knit together in a living society, 
 — each should have his place and his appointed work. 
 As a matter of fact, many are out of their places, 
 and the harvests are not extensive enough for the 
 reapers, and these are problems to be faced. Paul 
 was not extravagant when he said that man was the 
 temple of God. 
 
 Let us be strong then ; if we have entered upon a 
 larger life let us hold to it ; let us devote ourselves 
 to being k^al to it ; } T es, let us la}~ down our lives 
 rather than return to the lower plane which we have 
 left. We are not to be drawn awa}- bj' that common 
 cry "It is not expected of 3011." True, it may be 
 
SERMONS. 215 
 
 hard, but it is expected of us ; and more than this, 
 for the best of humanity takes up the ringing words 
 and endorses them, " Be ye perfect, even as your 
 Father in heaven is perfect." The ideal is high, 
 despairingly high, but ought we not to be glad that 
 it is given us to hold such an ideal ; thankful that a 
 life has been lived of such wonderful approach to 
 perfection, as to encourage and stimulate us ; thankful, 
 too, that in the rush of hourly cares we can still see 
 the work of brave men and women whose lives are 
 founded on the principles that look for perfection, — 
 that make for perfection ; men and women who out 
 of their weakness conjure strength, who out of ap- 
 parent rout organize victory, who, in devotion to the 
 dictates of honor and love are living out the words 
 of Peter, " I will lay down my life for thy sake." 
 
216 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And there are also many other things which Jesus did. 
 John xxi. 25. 
 
 IT is seldom that phrases of this character catch 
 us and hold us and make us think. The} T are 
 too common ; we pass them bj 7 as the familiar conven- 
 tions that follow the close of a story. I say follow 
 the close of a story ; that is, they are superfluous, — 
 they really add nothing new to it ; they are but the 
 apolog} 7 for things left unsaid. Yet there is some- 
 thing very suggestive in these particular words that 
 bring in the end of the fourth gospel ; there is some- 
 thing more here than the " and so forth" ring. If 
 we have read the New Testament appreciatively, if 
 we have opened our hearts to it, we shall find in this 
 brief recognition of the man} T other things which 
 Jesus did the real secret of his influence. It is clear 
 enough ; and each one of us who is at all earnest has 
 guessed it for himself. But here in the Gospel of 
 John, in these ten or a dozen words, we have the 
 first formal statement ; namely, we must read be- 
 tween the lines of the gospel story. The untold 
 
SERMONS. 217 
 
 of Jesus' life is greater than what is told ; and not 
 only so, but the untold can never be told. The 
 writer of the fourth gospel, like all other loving 
 writers on the life of Christ, had a warmer and 
 deeper conception of his Master than his pen could 
 possibly give us. It was not any lack of spirit or 
 devotion on the part of the evangelist, but a want of 
 capacity. The incidents of Jesus' life crowded thick 
 on his memoiy ; but his hand could strike off only 
 the bold outlines of the living study that was in his 
 heart. This is plain at the first reading ; the larger 
 facts are faithfully put down. He takes the stirring 
 scenes in Galilee and Samaria, and he dwells with 
 earnest emphasis upon the black drama of the 
 Judean ministry, — Gethsemane, the last supper 
 with its tender humility, the crucifixion, and (the most 
 beautiful of all) the Easter stories. So Matthew, 
 Mark, and Luke take us along in that life's journey 
 from one great milestone to another. It is the strik- 
 ing facts that are recorded from the birth of our 
 Saviour to the resurrection. We do not complain ; 
 we are thankful that we have as much as we have. 
 Still how fragraentaiy the gospels thus are ! We 
 are led into the borderland of a new. country with a 
 glorious prospect, and lo ! the mist settles down 
 upon us, and we have to grope our way ; we have a 
 hint of some great truth, some far-reaching precept, 
 
 28 
 
218 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 and it is left to our conscience to fill it out ; the 
 kingdom of God is revealed in successive flashes of 
 deep thought, and then is lost in the commonplaces 
 of Jewish tradition ; in a word, the incidents that 
 make up our gospels, however inspiring, are for the 
 most part but suggestions of the wealth of the life 
 of Jesus. The pictures are but partial pictures ; and 
 it is for us to fill them out, as we truly can, when we 
 bring to our fancy the many other things which 
 Jesus did. Think for a moment ! There were 
 thirty long years before that memorable baptism in 
 Jordan. Were those years free from doubt and 
 wearing hesitation and seemingly vain prayer? 
 Were there not crucifixion days and transfiguration 
 days, — hours when the spirit was weary and hours 
 when the spirit could remove mountains, hours when 
 Jesus was alone and hours when the Father was 
 with him ? The disciples at the opening of his min- 
 istiy heard the story of the temptation in the wilder- 
 ness ; but little did they know, or could the}' know, 
 of the many other things that gave to that strenuous 
 resistance its assured result. The temptation in the 
 wilderness, — why, what was it but the very sum of 
 all the temptations that had beset his path to that 
 time ? Peter and the other disciples saw Jesus heal 
 the sick ; they tried to do as he did, and failed. 
 What was the secret of the healing ? Was it a 
 
SERMONS. 219 
 
 trick, a peculiar word or tone, the magic touch of a 
 hand ? No ; it was the whole current of a life which 
 found expression in the healing, — a life which, 
 deeply as the disciples loved, they had not fath- 
 omed. The healing was but the fruit of the man}' 
 other things that Jesus did ; it was less a miracle 
 than the natural working of a real sympathy fostered 
 through man}' a silent tragedy in Jesus' early days, 
 tempered in hours of loneliness and trial long before 
 he heard the voice of John the Baptist. So in his 
 declared ministry the sacrifices that have come down 
 to us must be read in the light of the many other 
 things which Jesus did that prepared the way for 
 these sacrifices. The successive days brought no 
 new experience ; the cross of Calvary was but the 
 last of a weary series of crosses that he had learned 
 to accept. 
 
 Does not this thought, which the life of Jesus so 
 clearly brings out, give you strength, — the thought 
 that the best of your life, if lived well, is not to be 
 proclaimed or published in a book, but is to work, as 
 God intends it to work, silently, slowly, but irresis- 
 tibly, not only to influence other lives in ways you 
 may not know, but to give new vigor and soundness 
 to your own life. Men see, perhaps, your more start- 
 ling struggles, take notice whether you win or lose ; 
 but how little they know of your determination to be 
 
220 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 modest and humble in spite of success ; or better, of 
 your brave spirit not to be discouraged if you have 
 fought and lost. To fight and lose, and then to con- 
 jure out of the apparent failure strength to battle 
 anew, — why, that is the finest kind of victory. 
 And the best of these fights are fought out in your 
 own room, and with the companionship of yourselves 
 alone. This is not fancy. The finest dispositions 
 are wrought out of daily struggles. You know how 
 true this is. You know persons who are supposed 
 to have been born with a sweet temperament, whom 
 the world calls naturally good and generous men and 
 women, who could not help being what they ought 
 to be, and all the time the world is blind. It has 
 seen the triumph of the cross ; it has not seen the 
 suffering. It has not seen what from its nature can- 
 not be seen, the loneliness of self-discipline. It has 
 not seen the sense of humiliation at the weakening 
 of will, and the grim determination to make a bolder 
 stand and wipe out the defeat. It has not seen the 
 crushing down of the selfish, hast}- impulse, — so 
 human but so wondrous, — the dashing aside of 
 small conceit and mean thoughts. The world has 
 not heard the earnest pra} T ers for daily strength for 
 daily needs. The struggles, the determination, the 
 perseverance, the prayers, — these are the many 
 other things that so often are the secret of the sweet 
 
SERMONS. 221 
 
 disposition that is tempered to bear the test at the 
 test-moment. It is these many other things that 
 make the most sacred communion of man with 
 God. 
 
 It is true that there comes to me often a ques- 
 tioning as to the worth of these silently fought out 
 battles, and so a weariness. It is hard to look into 
 our hearts and prove the worth of the man}' en- 
 deavors for a good life that nobody knows anything 
 about but ourselves, — it is hard. But can we not 
 bring the truth deep home to us when we call to 
 mind some one we know well, — whom we love ? 
 What makes a mother's memory dear to } r ou? It 
 is of course because she is your mother. But what 
 does this mean? It is not that she has spoken to 
 you or of you thus and so, — perhaps } t ou cannot 
 recall a single sentence from her lips ; it is not that 
 she has done some great thing, — made a special 
 sacrifice for j'our sake ; it is not that persons around 
 3'ou sound her praises, — 3'ou would rather not hear 
 her name too loudly spoken : but it is truly the 
 memory of the inany other things that she has done 
 by which your love judges her, — things that your 
 heart feels, but which } T our words are too few and 
 too feeble to tell, and your hands too cramped to 
 write. Her memory is dear because each glance 
 was a mother's glance ; and even in her rebuke there 
 
222 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 was the mother's constant care. It was the fact of 
 her existence day on day that told on 3'our young 
 lives. It was trust in her that made trust an anchor 
 in your life. Love became real to you through a 
 mother's love. Explain it? Why, you can't ex- 
 plain it. The evangelist could not explain the mys- 
 tery of his Master ; but we feel what he meant when 
 he breathlessly fell back on the many other things 
 which Jesus did. Is it not the many, manj- other 
 things unchronicled, known perhaps to } T ou alone on 
 earth, and which you cherish the more because they 
 are unknown, — is it not these that transfigure the 
 memory of a mother and a friend? 
 
 Yes, it is when the Christ nature is so taken up 
 into one's character that it permeates its least ex- 
 pression that there must be, whether we see it or not, 
 the enduring influence. You may find it true in your 
 peaceful home life ; you ma}' go into the crash of 
 battle, and find it true there. Probably no two men 
 had a greater influence in the Confederate army than 
 Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. Lee was a 
 general with a discerning mind, a genius for plot- 
 ting out a campaign, and a stout heart to follow up 
 his mind ; but it was the influence of the many other 
 things, expressed in his goodness, his Christian 
 character, that won his soldiers to him ; and when 
 we read our magazines to-day it is the man Lee that 
 
SERMONS- 223 
 
 is towering far over the temporary victories and 
 wrecks of his fought-out plans, or the tales of his 
 charges and retreats. And so with Jackson. There 
 was no more dashing division commander in the 
 war ; but the picture of Jackson plodding along the 
 Virginia woods reading his Bible in the saddle comes 
 nearer to the secret of his influence. The meanest 
 soldier could not but respect his unflinching loyalty, 
 his unswerving obedience to a high sense of duty, in 
 little things and great, from sunrise to sunset. He 
 could stand like a stone wall, not sirnpl}- in the field, 
 but in the many other things which he did, even to 
 the ruling of his own spirit. 
 
 Take this truth to }'ourself, for it is 3 T ours. Just 
 as truly the man} T other things that fill out the con- 
 tent of your individual lives, if directed with a high 
 aim, must cast their influence in the circles in which 
 you live. Surely it is a blessed hope to cherish that 
 somewhere and at some time your brave endeavors, 
 3'our resistance to temptation, your endurance, 
 3-our patience, }*our quiet self-sacrifice, your calm 
 faith, has strengthened some one that sadly needed 
 strength, — a blessed hope that some one has been 
 made happier from your having lived in the world. 
 
 There is a very sombre and terrible truth, too, 
 about the many other things that one does. I have 
 been speaking about the silent working of the untold 
 
224 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 endeavors that bring one a little nearer heaven. It 
 is often hard, as I have said, to look into our hearts 
 and weigh the full significance of this untold en- 
 deavor ; but it is not so hard, as our consciences tell 
 us, to feel the significance of the lack of endeavor, 
 or the endeavor in a false or an evil cause. It is 
 terrible when it conies on a man with a rush that his 
 life has been a failure, — when he sees his past days as 
 so much preparation for a storm that would have to 
 break. How little other men who read of his wreck 
 know why the storm has come ! They see only sur- 
 face facts ; they put their finger on this transaction 
 of last year and this stroke of business this year, 
 and they add and subtract, and form a foregone con- 
 clusion. But the man who has failed feels the truth 
 which his neighbors cannot see. He has failed, not 
 because this particular scheme did not go through as 
 he had planned, not because the friend disappointed 
 him at the critical moment, not because of failing 
 health, or inherited weaknesses, — these may all 
 have played their part ; but back of them all there 
 is the ghost of the many other things which he did 
 that will not be gone. It was because he had not 
 held his own as a man in the daily and hourly battle 
 with his own nature, because he did not strive with 
 all vigor of purpose to put the devil of his own self- 
 ishness behind him, so that ,now the damning influ- 
 
ence of these many other things mocks him, and he 
 would give the world to undo what is fatally secure, 
 to forget what cannot be forgotten. History's walls 
 are hung with such pictures, — great wrecks of men 
 who ought to have moved the world, but who 
 trampled upon their opportunities. WI13- did not 
 Mirabeau magnetize the masses in the French Revo- 
 lution ? He had influence at court, and he spoke for 
 the people, and his eloquence as one reads it seems 
 irresistible. Was it not because the man, with all 
 his power, despite his talent, was not heart and soul 
 with the cause he represented? He could not con- 
 trol the sensualit3 T of his own nature ; it controlled 
 him. He was a patriot ; but he had to satisf}- his 
 own selfish fancies and cater to his own vices ; and 
 these were the thirty pieces of silver that betrayed 
 his own soul. 
 
 Mirabeau failed through the many other things 
 which he did. His fall is tragic because it is so 
 human. We know it and feel it. We too have 
 often deceived ourselves, — not with the elaborate 
 crimes of Mirabeau, but in giving way to subtle self- 
 ishness which we ought to have crushed down, in 
 living in the light of a self-satisfaction that deadens 
 the soul. 
 
 How often we look upon the casual dut}- of the 
 hour performed as a license for man}- other things 
 
 29 
 
226 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 that have no sort of kinship with duty. The true 
 life will not submit to a balance of accounts. We 
 cannot live a grasping, money-loving life, and can- 
 cel its selfishness with a gift to a hospital. The 
 hospital may need the money ; but it needs us with 
 it. We become the true philanthropist, not by rea- 
 son of the gift, or the generous action of Monday or 
 Tuesday, but by reason of the man} r other things 
 which find their natural fruit in the gift or the 
 action ; and the best philanthropist is he whose 
 influence silently works, who does good without 
 making any talk about it, who is satisfied that he 
 is working in the fellowship of the divine Spirit. 
 That is enough. 
 
 May the thought with which I started help 
 you, then ! Hold to the quiet daily resolve to 
 make the best out of } T our life, — through perse- 
 verance and suffering hold to it ; it must tell. It 
 is no concern of yours that you cannot see the 
 results. Little ought it affect you if your neighbor 
 does not appreciate your effort. That can be en- 
 dured. If there is any reality in life, if there is any 
 order in the world, if there is any foundation for 
 religion, your effort for the good, even in the fire of 
 suffering, even if looked upon by men as evil, even 
 if not regarded by men at all, such effort must 
 
SERMONS. 227 
 
 tell. There were burdens borne by Jesus which, 
 if you were known to bear, would make men 
 call you a Christ. And 3'et what man ever knew 
 the weight of those silent burdens? The larger 
 part of his thirty 3-ears' life has come down to 
 us merely as " the man}- other things which he 
 did." 
 
228 SAMUEL FOSTER McOLEARY. 
 
 V. 
 
 I pray not that thou shouldest take them out of the world, but 
 that thou shouldest keep them from the evil. — JoHNxvii. 15. 
 
 IN mediaeval days it was a common thing for a 
 man who wished to live a religious life to 
 enter a monastery. He gave up his trade, sold his 
 goods, bade good-by to his friends, turned his back 
 on home and kindred, and hence on the world. 
 Once in the order, he took the vows of poverty, 
 chastity, and obedience. He would share without 
 complaining the frugal fare of the brethren ; he 
 would keep himself unspotted from the world, and 
 obey to the least letter the dictates of his superior. 
 The earnest monk, — and I am not speaking now of 
 sham monasteries and hypocritical brethren, — the 
 earnest monk moulded his life on the severest lines. 
 Believing that the health of the body was detrimental 
 to the well-being of the soul, he disciplined this body 
 by wearing the coarsest of garments, by excessive 
 fasting, and by the scourging of the lash. The bod} T 
 thus mortified would not triumph over the spirit ; 
 and the spirit in turn, freed from the dominion of 
 
SERMONS. 229 
 
 the flesh, could be devoted to the higher life. The 
 times fostered this ascetic idea. In the dark ages 
 Europe was in a state of flux. The Germans had 
 overrun the old Roman Empire ; the great peoples 
 were having a life-and-death struggle for land and 
 settlement, and violence was the order of the day. 
 It was quite natural for men who wished to devote 
 themselves to letters or meditation, religious stud}', 
 and prayer to flee from the crash of arms and the 
 din of battle, and seek the peace and quiet of the 
 cloister. Further, the prevailing religious ideas of 
 the day tended in no small measure to make hermits 
 of men. Instead of gathering life from the simple and 
 inspiring teachings of Jesus, those hoi}' men inherited 
 a gloomy mixture of Greek philosophy, Jewish tra- 
 dition, and Church doctrine. From the third century 
 on the Church had been taken up with the letter and 
 the form of Christianity rather than the life. Council 
 after council was called to discuss the person of 
 Christ and the nature of man. One party held to 
 the simpler Messianic thought of Jesus that the 
 gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke reveal ; another 
 insisted upon the more elaborate idea of the pre- 
 existent Christ, as outlined in Paul's Epistles ; but 
 it remained for Athanasius to take the final step, 
 and in the year 325 the absolute equality and 
 co-substantiality of the Son and the Father was 
 
230 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 insisted upon, hardened into a doctrine, and in spite 
 of the protests of the larger part of the Christian 
 world this doctrine was declared to be the test 
 of church-membership. The Church doctrine of the 
 atonement, of which there is not even a hint in the 
 life and teachings of Jesus, but which the idea of 
 a pre-existent Christ engendered, became the more 
 insisted upon b} T this exaltation of Christ to the 
 Godhead. The increased majesty of the atoning 
 sacrifice, while it might show forth the love of God 
 for his people, could not but impty the desperate 
 wickedness of the world that thus required such a 
 sacrifice. The nature of man became shadowed in 
 the blackest hues. The primitive mj T th in Genesis 
 of the fall of man became corrupted into a dogma 
 utterly unworthy of a Christian spirit ; and the early 
 years of the fifth century found the monk Augus- 
 tine riveting upon the religious world the iron-clad 
 conception of the total depravity of human nature. 
 
 This was to a greater or less degree the received 
 doctrine of the Middle Ages : That man inherited 
 not only inherent corruption, but positive guilt; 
 that he was helpless, — yes, morally- dead, — and 
 could be saved only by the arbitral will of God. 
 What was the result? As flesh and matter were 
 evil, as man was corrupt, as well as the very times 
 themselves, the tendency was away from the world, 
 
SERMONS. 231 
 
 — avoidance of societ}-, seclusion from mankind. 
 True, the prevailing theology served in some meas- 
 ure to incite the monks in the West to go forth 
 from the cloisters to help humanity ; but the general 
 drift, especially in the East, was quite in the other 
 direction. The door of the monastery was the door 
 out of the world. In the quiet of his cell the monk 
 sought the peace of his own soul, while he prayed 
 for the souls of those whose presence he avoided. 
 
 False as this conception of the religious life seems 
 to us, we must not be too hard upon these monks of 
 old. We have much to be thankful for in their 
 seclusion. They were the scholars of the Middle 
 Ages ; the}' fed the feeble ray of learning, which 
 the confusion and violence of the time would have 
 quenched ; and it is through their patience and per- 
 severance that we have preserved to us to-day our 
 Horace and our Cicero, and the whole range of the 
 ancient classics. In their spiritual devotion they 
 were dead in earnest. The} 7 believed that their way 
 of serving God was the best way. At all events, 
 their sincerity and unswerving zeal are a rebuke to 
 us to da}\ But giving them all justice, we are 
 bound to say that this mediaeval conception of a 
 religious life is an utterly false one ; that from 
 coping to foundation stone it is subversive of the 
 plainest, the simplest principle of Christianit}'. 
 
232 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 And what is the simplest principle of Chris- 
 tianity ? This, — that man is the child of God, hence 
 men are all of one family. Or as Jesus put it, — 
 and the old monks had the words before them in 
 their Latin parchments just as we have them in 
 Anglo-Saxon Bibles to-day, — " Thou shalt love the 
 Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy 
 soul and with all thy strength and with all ttvy mind 
 and thy neighbor as ttrvself." Simple words without 
 an inch of doctrine in them. Na} T , Jesus says else- 
 where that on these two precepts hang all the Law 
 and the Prophets, meaning by that, that unless man 
 showed his devotion to God through service to his 
 neighbor, all the machinery of the Law, the words of 
 the Prophets, ritual, rubric, creed, and doctrine, — 
 could avail him nothing. It was the very love of 
 man for man that Jesus insisted upon, irrespective 
 of class and condition. This is clear from the story 
 that follows the • words we have quoted : how the 
 Samaritan cared for the wounded traveller when the 
 priest and Levite passed him b}*. The priest and 
 the Levite were cunningly taught in the Law, — they 
 were born theologians ; the Samaritan was an out- 
 cast from the Law. Yet it was the Samaritan that 
 was the true neighbor ; he was the true son of God 
 because he loved his fellow : man. What mattered it 
 if the Jew had his temple on Mount Moriah, while 
 
SERMONS. 233 
 
 the Samaritan reared his on Mount Gerizim ? What 
 mattered it if the Hebrew Bible was different from 
 the Samaritan? Of what account was it that the 
 Jew had kept himself exclusive, while the Samaritan 
 had intermarried with foreign peoples? What were 
 the pett} r questions of birth, race, nationality, and 
 creed beside the one great principle, — the principle 
 that makes up religion, — the love of God through 
 the service of man ? Or if, as Jesus so truly says, 
 the kingdom of God is within us, then it is life's 
 duty to serve our fellow-men with all our heart and 
 with all our soul and with all our strength and with 
 all our mind, to the end that humanity may become 
 worth}' of its calling. Here is nothing that will tend 
 to withdraw us from our neighbor, but everything 
 to draw us together. Here is nothing to carry us 
 out of the world after the fashion of the mediaeval 
 monk, but everything to keep us in the world. Here 
 is no hint of original sin and total depravity. In 
 the warm sunshine of a pure Christianity we have 
 nothing to do with this narrow idea which was bred 
 in the candle-light of the Middle Ages. Jesus did 
 not teach it ; it would have contradicted his life's 
 work. It is logically plain that were man by his 
 nature incapable of good, he would not be responsi- 
 ble for sin, — nay, there could be no such thing as 
 sin. Sin implies the abilit}' to follow the right, and 
 
 30 
 
234 SAMUEL FOSTER MCCLEARY. 
 
 a perverse surrender to the wrong. To say that 
 man by nature is incapable of good is as illogical as 
 to say that he is born incapable of evil. No sane 
 man will admit the one or the other. For the good 
 in life must be accounted for, as well as the evil. 
 Rather man is endowed with a freedom of will 
 whereb}' he may put himself in harmony with the 
 laws of life and grow, or disregard them and weaken. 
 It is in virtue of our power of self- development that 
 we rightfully speak of ourselves as persons, in dis- 
 tinction from mere things. The truly Christian idea, 
 then, is that man is endowed with an infinite possi- 
 bility. A glance at history shows in some measure 
 how man has been tending progressively along the 
 line of this possibility. I say in some measure, for 
 history is but the word of yesterday when applied 
 to the universe. Man's equipment of powers, his 
 senses, his emotions, his imagination, his mind, his 
 heart, — these are inheritances from countless expe- 
 riences far antedating histoiy, experiences that are 
 obscured by the impenetrable fog of the past. But 
 science, reasoning from effect to cause, is ever making 
 clear to us that the principle of life is one on our 
 planet ; that the mystery of lower forms of life is 
 inseparably connected with the mj'stery of ours. 
 And in this divine mystery need we be ashamed 
 of our relationship with that which is to our minds 
 
sermons. 2: : >5 
 
 lower, conscious as we are of our kinship with the 
 higher power through whom is all life? 
 
 We speak of the descent of man ; ought we not 
 to say the ascent? And what an awe-inspiring one 
 it is, from the dark past, when life must have been 
 helpless under the terror of the forces of Nature, to 
 the sunlight that floods the first pages of our written 
 history, where man is master of Nature, using her 
 laws for the enlargement of his life, and finding in 
 them ever less to fear, but more to wonder at. 
 
 And with the physical advances of men we see 
 the stead}' growth of character, an ever deeper rev- 
 erence for true manhood and gentle womanhood, a 
 warmer regard for the virtues of life, — truth-telling, 
 honor, and moral courage. So the ideas of God 
 have come down to us purged of the gross attributes 
 that the cruder ages have put upon it, and we have 
 to-day not the God of terror, but the God of love, 
 — the spirit that works in and through all life, whose 
 all-wise power we can trust, of whose nature we arc 
 all partakers. It is not extravagant to say, then, 
 that in the thought of man's wonderful progression, 
 physical, moral, and religious, we have an intimation 
 of man's infinite possibility. We speak too lightly 
 and too often the words " only a man." Ah ! it may 
 be "only a hero," in the sight of one wiser than 
 we. Gray, in the country churchyard, looking at 
 
236 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 the mossy mounds of earth, gave us the lines that 
 are so full of meaning : — 
 
 " Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast 
 The little tyrant of his fields withstood, 
 Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest, — 
 Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood." 
 
 Yes, in the humblest soul there may glow that spirit 
 that makes for name and gloiy in another. But 
 whether or not the humblest soul is still a son of 
 Gocl, far be it from us to say " only a son of God." 
 Who would say "only the ocean, only the stars, 
 only the universe ? " And is not the human soul 
 as boundless ? Yes, the infinite possibilit}- that ex- 
 presses itself in the hand of a Titian, the imagination 
 of a Raphael, the music of a Shakspeare, and the 
 love and self-sacrifice of a Jesus obtains in the least 
 of our brethren ; and our religion is a superstition if 
 we cannot have faith in this possibilitj* ; our religion 
 is vain if we cannot act as becomes this faith. 
 
 Instead of shrinking from our fellow-men, as being 
 something corrupt, we are to draw near to one 
 another through our natural union in God, and work 
 heartily with one another. We are not to withdraw 
 ourselves from the world, but above all else exercise 
 our energies here and now in the wor'd. It is in 
 the very thick of life that the injured are to be 
 
SERMONS. 237 
 
 defended, the sick to be healed, the weak to be 
 made strong, the strong to be inspired. It is in the 
 world that there are wrongs to be righted, and rights 
 to be guarded, false ideas to be fought, and ever 
 higher ideals to be striven for. If we are to love 
 and serve our fellow-man, we must be where our 
 fellow-man is, take up with his joys and sorrows, 
 meet our common dangers, shoulder our common 
 burdens, and so worship in manly service our com- 
 mon God. This is the simple religion that Jesus 
 taught, and which his whole life exemplified. He 
 was active everywhere ; and did he not associate 
 with every class and condition of men, — with the 
 doctors of the law in the Temple, dining with publi- 
 cans and sinners, and taking up with the Samari- 
 tans, the worst of sinners in the eyes of the Jews? 
 If ever there was a humanitarian it was Jesus 
 of Nazareth. At the close of his ministry he 
 prayed that the same spirit that had led him to 
 work in the very thick of life might fill his disciples 
 You remember the words: "I pray not that thou 
 shouldest take them out of the world, but that thou 
 shouldest deliver them from the evil." 
 
 And now we have seen the two conceptions of 
 the religious life, — that of the mediaeval monk, who, 
 deeming man corrupt, fled from his presence out of 
 the world; and that of Jesus, who, finding man 
 
26H SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 worthy of love, sought him where he might be 
 found, — in the world. 
 
 When we apply these two conceptions to the 
 religious life of to-day, do we not find with the ever- 
 increasing influence of the simple teachings of Jesus 
 traces still of the monastic spirit? And this is said 
 with all reverence, and with due regard to the gener- 
 ous work that eveiy church is doing to-da} r . Never, 
 perhaps, more than to-day have the churches tended 
 to work in the veiy centre of life. Their wide- 
 spread missions are a proof of it; their Christian 
 associations, their clubs for working men and work- 
 ing girls, their guilds of street bo3-s, their free beds 
 at hospitals, all make for that enlightened spirit of 
 Christian co-operation, — the idea of working shoulder 
 to shoulder, hand in hand, and heart to heart. But 
 though the Church is thus a moving power in 
 society, we cannot fail to recognize the fact that 
 it is not the power it should be. In the case of 
 the stricter churches we find a tendenc}" among 
 thinking men and women to drift away ; and this 
 drifting awaj T is due to what I may call the old 
 monastic spirit, or what is more generally called 
 the refusal of the Church to give up old, crass 
 traditions that the time has outgrown. And so it 
 happens that while the stricter Church is nobly striv- 
 ing to work in the very centre of life, her ancient 
 
SERMONS. 239 
 
 doctrines are ever tending to withdraw her from the 
 world. The very life she strives to engender is 
 cramped b} r the dry letter, the meaningless form, the 
 unessential rubric. 
 
 The old Augustinian idea of the innate guilt of 
 man has been pried up b} T the lovers of progress, 
 and done awa}' with ; but the marks of the iron are 
 visible to-da}', as is seen in so many churches where 
 baptism is declared essential to salvation. But men 
 feel that it is not what a man declares he believes 
 that draws him to his God, but essentially the worth 
 of the life he leads. Jesus said a tree is known b} r 
 its fruits. So we are known, each b} T our fruits. 
 The arbitrary division among men of the baptized 
 and the unbaptized falls away before the real division 
 in every time and place between the good men and 
 the bad men. 
 
 So men are outgrowing the idea of the atoning 
 sacrifice. It does not suit our ideas of justice ; and 
 we can trust our sense of justice, for it is through it 
 that we can conceive of a just God. The atoning 
 sacrifice substitutes the innocent for the guilty, and 
 this our hearts will not tolerate. It is one thing to 
 believe in a good God that suffers with his children, 
 and quite another to conceive of an innocent victim 
 suffering in their place. Our hearts tell us there is 
 no mediator between God and man. God speaks 
 
240 SAMUEL FOSTER McCLEARY. 
 
 directly to man, and the heart of man is lifted 
 directly to God. 
 
 The Church, standing as it does and as it always 
 must for the highest ideals in societ} T , should strive 
 to broaden its thought with every advance in truth, 
 that it may appeal not only to the hearts of men, but 
 to their minds as well. Jesus said: "Thou shalt 
 love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with 
 all thy strength, and with all thy mind." The 
 Church, then, must seek after the truth, which is 
 the manifestation of God, with all its mind, wherever 
 it may be found ; and if the traditional doctrines do 
 not square with the truth they must go. There can 
 be no compromise with truth, any more than there 
 can be a white that is half black. 
 
 Yes, what men and women are thirsting for to-day 
 is the living word that can give heart to the lowli- 
 est moments in life and inspire the highest. They 
 want a religion that will touch the common needs, 
 find in the questions that are worrying humanity 
 to-day not only men's problems, but God's problems. 
 They want a religion that will gather men together, 
 and inspire them to work together, because they are 
 children of God, not because they think of God in 
 this or that fashion. 
 
 Such a religion we find in the simple teachings of 
 Jesus, — the fatherhood of God, the brotherhood of 
 
SERMONS. 241 
 
 man. This appeals to us, for it rings true to our 
 minds as well as to our hearts. Every truth that 
 the time reveals makes this faith the more beauti- 
 ful. The more we know of the history of man, and 
 the more we search men's natures to-day, the more 
 truly we come to respect humanity ; the more we 
 know our friends, the deeper we love them. And 
 with the deeper knowledge of man and the uni- 
 verse in which he lives, the more we marvel at 
 the glory of God. The heart is its own witness of 
 God. The heart searches the Bible, and finds among 
 the words of men the living word of God. Leaving 
 the weary lists of genealogies, the dry rituals, the 
 myths and old-time legends, it finds these glowing 
 words : — 
 
 " I was an hungered and ye gave me meat ; I was 
 thirst}- and ye gave me drink ; I was a stranger and 
 ye took me in ; naked, and ye clothed me ; I was 
 sick and }'e visited me ; I was in prison, and ye 
 came unto me." 
 
 M Inasmuch as ye have done it unto the least of 
 these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." 
 
 Oh, whj' have men been blind to these words ! 
 ' As ye have done it unto the least of these my 
 brethren, ye have done it unto me." To help a 
 fellow-man is to love God. 
 
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