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AN ADDRESS 
 
 COMMEMORATIVE OF 
 
 Richard Henry Mather, 
 
 Professor of Greek in Amherst College. 
 
 Delivered Before the Faculty, Students, and 
 Friends of the College, 
 
 June i^th, 1890, 
 
 BY PROFESSOR HENRY ALLYN FRINK. 
 
 ^^ Of THU 
 
 TJHIVBRSITTj 
 
 AMHERST MASS, 1890. 
 
l3> 
 
 i 
 
 f1 
 
 ^3^/^3 2^ 
 
 GRirriTH, AXTBLL & CaDT CoMTANT, I'niKTERS 
 
 HoLYOKB, Mass. 
 
THE ALUMNI AND FRIENDS OF AMHERST COLLEGE 
 
 ARE PROVIDED WITH THIS ADDRESS BY 
 
 THE HON. WILLIAM WHITING, A. M., 
 
 A LONG-TIME FRIEND OF PROFESSOR MATHER. 
 
[tjiivirsitt; 
 
 LIFE many-sided, rich in endowment, and of 
 large usefulness has gone from us. De- 
 voted to Amherst College with rare con- 
 secration, for more than thirty years, no one 
 voice can tell of the reach of its influence. So in 
 what will be heard to-day, many voices will 
 mingle. Would that their words could be repeat- 
 ed in full. But since this cannot be, the words 
 that are spoken will aim to echo the spirit of 
 the many who have gratefully testified of Pro- 
 fessor Mather's earnest life and work. 
 
 Our first thought of Professor Mather is that 
 his was a singularly favored life. Its end was 
 pathetic, almost tragic. But until its closing- 
 months, a kind fortune, as we ordinarily count 
 fortune, waited upon it generously and con- 
 stantly. This fortune began with an honored 
 lineage. Piety, patriotism, learning, power of 
 mind and gift of leadership, as marked as this 
 country has known, distinguish his ancestry. 
 
 His name he traced to Richard Mather of 
 Lancashire, England, who in 1635 came to 
 
America, and settled as a preacher at Dor- 
 chester, Mass. From his second son Timothy, 
 Professor Mather was descended. This Timothy 
 was the brother of Increase Mather, sixth presi- 
 dent of Harvard College, whose degree of Doctor 
 of Divinity was the first granted in this country; 
 and the uncle of Cotton Mather, even more 
 illustrious than his father, Increase, as author, pat- 
 riot, and divine. Richard, a son of Timothy, settled 
 at Lyme, Connecticut; and Henry, his descendant 
 of the fourth oreneration, was father of Professor 
 Mather. On the maternal side a not distant 
 ancestor was Jonathan Edwards, the theologian 
 and metaphysician, — "One of the three original 
 minds that America has produced." Through his 
 mother's father, he was also descended from the 
 Rev. John Whiting, a colleague of the Rev. Mr. 
 Stone an early pastor of the F'irst Church in 
 Hartford, Connecticut; and from Captain John 
 Mason, the successful commander in the Pequot 
 War, major of the colonial forces for many years, 
 and from 1660 to 1670 Deputy Governor of Con- 
 necticut. 
 
 When a young man the father of Professor 
 Mather, following an elder brother, Richard, emi- 
 grated, as it would then be said, from Lyme, 
 Connecticut, to Binghamton, New York. Here, 
 later, Henry Mather married Frances Whiting, a 
 
7 
 great-granddaughter of Jonathan Edwards; and 
 here, February 12, 1834, was born Richard Henry 
 Mather. 
 
 If New England was not his birth-place, its 
 spirit was embodied in the home of his boyhood. 
 To know what was the influence of that home 
 upon the child is to recall what was most enno- 
 bling in the man. At fourteen Richard Mather 
 came to Amherst to be under the intellectual 
 guidance of his uncle, Professor William S. Tyler. 
 For this guardian of his youth and companion of 
 his early and later manhood. Professor Mather 
 had, as his mother writes, "the admiration of a 
 pupil combined with the love of a son and the 
 sympathy of a life-long friend. 
 
 A little later, he was for a term at the Hopkins 
 Academy, Hadley, Mass., then having for its 
 Principal the present Lecturer on Natural Philos- 
 ophy in Amherst College, Dr. Marshall Henshaw. 
 From here, to complete his preparation for col- 
 lege, he went to VVilliston Seminary, East- 
 hampton. " He was then," as a classmate, 
 President Northrup of the University of Minne- 
 sota, tells us, "what he has always been, a genial, 
 hearty, and friendly man; an earnest and excel- 
 lent scholar; an eloquent speaker." Especially 
 was President Northrup impressed with his class- 
 mate's proiiciency in Greek, "as he had then the 
 
8 
 
 habit of leaving his room and coming out into the 
 hall of the dormitory, and there rolling off the 
 smooth-flowing lines of Homer with almost light- 
 ning rapidity. I have since heard him preach in 
 English, and very few men could surpass him in 
 preaching; but no English preaching could ever 
 impress me as did his appropriation, — I may call 
 it, rather than mastery, of the Greek tongue." 
 To President Northrup's early impressions of this 
 student of Greek is to be added Professor Tyler s 
 statement, "that in all the classes that he has 
 taught, Professor Mather had no equal in facility 
 and felicity of translation." Nor can the silence 
 of his "silver tongue" to-day make us forget 
 the charm and power with which he was wont to 
 reproduce the stately march and magnificent 
 sweep and swell of Greek verse, in his public and 
 private readings from the tragic poets. 
 
 Graduated from Williston Seminary in 1852 
 with the honor of Salutatory oration, he entered 
 Amherst College with the class of 1856. In this 
 class he was prominent as a scholar and writer; 
 and Sophomore year, as a Kellogg Prize speaker. 
 Junior year he left the class of 1856 for foreign 
 travel. With Professor Tyler, Mr. Edward A. 
 Strong, now of the Board of Trustees of Amherst 
 College, and Mr. George Washburn, for many 
 years President of Robert College, Constantino- 
 
9 
 pie, he went over the usual route of the tourist 
 in Europe, with a visit to Egypt, Palestine, Tur- 
 key, and Greece. A part of the time the Rev. 
 Samuel Fiske, then known as "Dunn Browne," 
 was a companion. In Mr. Fiske's sketches of 
 his travels, entitled ''Dunn Browne Abroad," we 
 catch now and then a characteristic glimpse of 
 Professor Mather as a youthful traveller. The 
 glimpse is always of one brightening the way, 
 and making hard places seem easy and smooth. 
 So it was through the whole journey of life. To all 
 whom he met and to all with whom he lived and 
 labored, he was as the light that gladdens, and as a 
 breeze that invigorates. 
 
 His early visit to Greece was an epoch in his 
 life. His impressionable, responsive nature was 
 here touched with a power as lasting as, at the 
 time, irresistible. However unconscious the pur- 
 pose, sympathies were quickened that had for 
 their blossom and fruit the giving of all his future 
 years to the study of Greek life, art, and litera- 
 ture. In this opportunity for an enthusiastic 
 devotion to an early inspiration, we see more 
 than a favored life. It is something that ap- 
 proaches an ideal life. It is the "vision splen- 
 did" of the youth, not fading, as is so often the 
 sad experience, "into the light of common day;" 
 but in all the years that follow, steadily rounding 
 
lO 
 
 into larger, finer proportions, and gaining a 
 richer beauty and glory. 
 
 On his return to Amherst, he joined the class 
 of 1857, and was graduated with its highest honor. 
 The subject of his oration was the keynote of 
 the theme about which he was to write and speak 
 for a lifetime, "Athenian Culture." His previous 
 record as a scholar, his brilliant powers, and his 
 year of travel with its advantages, made this 
 honor probable from the first. To the members 
 of the class with the same ambition, and their 
 friends, his entering the lists was naturally a dis- 
 appointment. How he bore himself in this 
 ordeal we learn from a classmate, the Rev. Dr. 
 Frisbie of Des Moines, Iowa. *'As I recall those 
 days, I am impressed by the genuineness of the 
 manhood he then showed. He did not allow it 
 to be thought that he had taken a place with us 
 that he might get the advantage of any one of 
 us. He did not keep himself apart. He did not 
 act as though his was a position to be defended. 
 He was at once a member of the class in frank, 
 friendly heartiness. It was his class from the 
 day that he entered it. His course was such as 
 to allay the first sense of disturbance, and to make 
 for himself a sure and warm place in the hearts of 
 his classmates." 
 
 The year after graduation found him a teacher 
 
II 
 
 at Wi] listen Seminary with an experience brightly 
 prophesying his future success. He was -always 
 interested in Williston Seminary, and an election 
 to its Board, of Trustees in 1880 was very grate- 
 ful to him. To the earnest sense of duty that 
 attended him in every place of responsibility, he 
 added here the warm love of a son. 
 
 Another year abroad, given mainly to the study 
 of Philology at Berlin, and he returned to make 
 Amherst, where he had passed so much of his 
 youth, his home for life.^ And how he loved 
 Amherst. Her beauty was his delight and praise. 
 With each returning year he would say, **that he 
 felt like thanking God that he was permitted to 
 see the spring come again in Amherst, — it was 
 so beautiful." And if this joy in the beautiful 
 was his birthright, was not his a favored 
 life in having two such homes as Amherst 
 and Binghamton to give his aesthetic sense the 
 kindest and most generous culture ? The hills 
 that surround his birthplace except where the 
 Chenango and Susquehanna come and go, if not 
 
 * Before going abroad Professor Mather married, May 26, I858, 
 Lizzie, daughter of Daniel Carmichael of Geneva, N. Y. The children 
 of this marriage are Alice, the wife of Professor Williston Walker, 
 Ph. D., of Hartford Theological Seminary ; Professor William T. 
 Mather of Williston Seminary, and Edward Mather of Boston. Mrs. 
 Lizzie Mather died October, 1877. March 31, 1881, Professor Mather 
 married Ellen A., daughter of Samuel H. Mather, LL. D., of Cleve- 
 land, O. Mrs. Mather survives him, also a young daughter, Eleanor. 
 
12 
 
 SO famous as those upon which we look, are yet 
 in their way hardly less beautiful. Sunsets no 
 less brilliant than ours enrich its sky; and upon 
 its hills at the East often rests the same purple 
 light that at times tints the Pelham range. With 
 the two rivers meeting in its centre, its beauty, if 
 not so cultivated and suggesting so much an 
 English landscape as the scene before us, is 
 more varied and picturesque. But Professor 
 Mather in his comparison always gave the crown 
 to Amherst. Nor was this whole region without 
 a large measure of his admiration and love. In 
 his rare fund of delightful sayings, he had none 
 that he seemed to enjoy repeating more than the 
 remark of a kind lady who, having early recol- 
 lections of this part of New England, said to him 
 when a boy leaving Binghamton for Amherst : 
 "Give my love to the Connecticut Valley, all the 
 way up." 
 
 Here in Amherst College, he began in 1859 
 the work that he laid down only with his life. Of 
 his thirty-one years as a teacher of Greek, three 
 were as instructor, six as adjunct professor, and 
 twenty- two as professor. He was also an en- 
 thusiastic and successful teacher of German from 
 1864 to 1879, when he opened a new and most 
 valuable field of culture at Amherst College 
 as ''Lecturer upon Sculpture." 
 
13 
 
 For a few months in 1862 he pursued studies 
 at Andover, Mass., especially theology with Pro- 
 fessor Park. In the following year he was 
 licensed to preach; and from that time until 
 his last sermon in the Eliot church at Newton, a 
 year ago next September, he was the larger part 
 of the year supplying churches in New England 
 and New York. In preaching not only was his 
 mind stimulated and broadened, his social nature 
 given friendly culture, and his religious spirit 
 a larger activity ; but his gifts as an orator were 
 put to their highest use. Because of the power 
 of these gifts, the wish has often been expressed 
 that he might have given himself wholly to the 
 ministry. The invitations to do so were alluring. 
 Some of these calls received respectful consider- 
 ation ; but his heart was here in the college, and 
 here he remained. In 1879 Bowdoin College 
 conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of 
 Divinity. But admired as he never failed to be 
 in the pulpit, he was always known by the title 
 which indicated his life work — Professor Mather. 
 So mentioned and remembered, the college 
 shared in the impression always pleasant and 
 often marked that he left with his congrega- 
 tion. 
 
 But Professor Mather's gifts were not simply 
 those of the scholar and public speaker. Often 
 
14 
 were his friends made to forget the successful 
 teacher and preacher in admiration of the man 
 of affairs. This sense of practical power assert- 
 ed itself soon after graduation. But with a 
 momentary inclination toward business life 
 ended all swerving from the purpose to be a 
 teacher of Greek. With every other gift, he 
 placed his executive force and skill at the dis- 
 posal of the college. Many and valuable were 
 his services, as in the remodelling of the library 
 building, the endowment of scholarships, and in 
 meeting extra expenses of his department. How 
 helpful was his executive power when turned in 
 a single direction, need not be told to one 
 familiar with the collection in yonder Art Gallery, 
 which, hereafter, whatever may be the official 
 title, will always and justly be known as The 
 Mather Collection. 
 
 It was with the plan of this Art Gallery be- 
 fore him that in 1873 he again went abroad. 
 How vividly as we have known him in other 
 undertakings, is he portrayed in the following 
 description by a fellow traveller* of that summer! 
 ** Every new day and every new city suggested 
 the same question, — what can be done now and 
 here for the Art Gallery? It was a rare day that 
 something was not accomplished ; and only those 
 
 * The Rev. Robert M. Woods, Hatfield, Mass. 
 
15 
 
 who know what Professor Mather's enthusiasm 
 and executive abiHty were, can understand how 
 rapidly and smoothly that Art Gallery which was 
 in Professor Mather's mind took on reality." A 
 few years ago the collection of Casts in this Gal- 
 lery was, apart from the one in Boston, the finest 
 in the country. If to-day it is also more than 
 equalled by the one in New York and the one at 
 Smith College, the reason is found in lack of 
 space in Williston Hall for a larger collection. 
 And when grateful hearts and hands shall honor 
 the memory of Professor Mather's work for the 
 College, what more fitting form can the monu- 
 ment assume than a building and a fund that shall 
 keep Amherst's Art Collection in the rank where 
 he first placed it and held it for so many 
 years ? 
 
 After twenty-eight years of continuous service, 
 came his first long vacation in the form of a year's 
 absence from college duties. Mrs. Mather ac- 
 companying him, he repeated the tour of his 
 student days with the exception of Egypt and 
 Palestine and the addition of Holland and Sicily. 
 But the main purpose of this vacation was one 
 of study and investigation in Greece. Resid- 
 ing here several months, he gathered the mate- 
 rial not only for extending former courses and 
 the* preparation of a new course in Greek Art; 
 
i6 
 
 but for making even more richly stimulating 
 and fruitful all the work of the department. 
 
 Again at his post in September, 1888, his 
 labors were carried on for more than a year 
 with an ardor and energy full of splendid promise 
 for what he hoped to be a new era in his teach- 
 ing. But sadly familiar is all that follows : the 
 thwarting of that promise by the hand of dis- 
 ease ; the perilous and painful operation ; the 
 brave spirit that met it and from it apparently 
 rallied ; the relapse ; and the weary months of 
 illness in which he fought his disease with a 
 courage that, as a classmate who had himself 
 stood in battle, writes, "was equal to a Gettys- 
 burg or a Wilderness." As the struggle contin- 
 ued through the long winter, the wish grew 
 with the days to live to look upon another of 
 Amherst's beautiful springs, and to see Presi- 
 dent Seelye again. But the beauty of the spring 
 tarried longer in its coming than he in his going; 
 and the night that President Seelye came, he 
 went. 
 
 In several of the letters received since he 
 went from us we read : "I cannot think of Pro- 
 fessor Mather as dead, nor of Amherst College 
 without him." Nor need we so think. That 
 in Professor Mather which we most loved is not 
 dead, nor can it die. Neither can he be sep- 
 
17 
 arated from the college. He made his life one 
 with her life; and in the constant power and 
 influence of this Christian College he has an 
 earthly immortality. 
 
II 
 
 S a teacher of Greek, Professor Mather be- 
 lieved with Matthew Arnold that *' the ao- 
 rist was made for man, not man for the 
 aorist." No mere word scholar, he observed the 
 distinction between the literature of knowledge 
 and the literature of power, pointed out by De 
 Quincey who says : ''All the steps of knowledge, 
 from first to last, carry you further on the same 
 plane, but could never raise you one foot above 
 your ancient level of earth ; whereas, the v^xy first 
 step in power is a flight — is an ascending move- 
 ment into another element." And so to come 
 into Professor Mather's class was an intellectual 
 awakening. Imbued with the spirit of the 
 authors taught, he entered into the life of the 
 tragedy, the poem, the oration, and revealed 
 the heart and soul of Greek literature. Not 
 that he failed to impart knowledge, and knowl- 
 edge of the most scholarly type ; but the spe- 
 cial aim of his teaching was, as De Quincey 
 would say, power. Work, hard work and much 
 
t9 
 
 of it, was required of the student. But never 
 was the work put upon that low level of instruc- 
 tion which seeks to give value to learning by 
 making it unnecessarily difficult and distasteful. 
 He so invested the subject with the charm of 
 his literary and aesthetic spirit as to make 'the 
 hard work to all appreciative minds, a delight. 
 Inspiring the student with his own enthusiasm, 
 the task became as the joyful load which the 
 hunter brings back from the successful chase. 
 Upon the class of the term he concentrated 
 his thought and effort. If for the time he 
 seemed to make it his college world, it was for 
 the advantage of the class ; and all in turn 
 shared the same devotion. He measured with 
 a skill and accuracy almost intuitive the capac- 
 ity and aim of every member of the class. He 
 was swift to detect indifference and indolence. 
 His favorite theme, as a preacher, was forma- 
 tion of character. No less was this his text as 
 a teacher. To be idle or careless meant more 
 than a temporary failure in Greek. It was leav- 
 ing as he thought, a weak place at the founda- 
 tions of manhood. No student of his would 
 he permit to do this without his word of 
 remonstrance. True, that word perhaps at times 
 was sharper and stronger than the student may 
 have thought his negligence deserved. Yet it 
 
20 
 
 needed only the first indication of better things, to 
 gain even more largely his instructor's approval 
 and encouragement. 
 
 The teacher's one immediate reward is the stu- 
 dent's good work. No man ever rejoiced more 
 than Professor Mather in this reward. A frequent 
 remark when speaking of some of his best classes 
 was : " I would willingly teach a class like that, 
 year in and year out, for no other compensation 
 than the pleasure of it." Tired with other work 
 he would say : '' I am going to hear such a 
 class and get rested." And if the recitation 
 proved as he anticipated, he would return 
 from it bright and fresh as from a ride in the 
 country. 
 
 At the last meeting of the New England As- 
 sociation of Colleges and Preparator)^ Schools, he 
 was asked to take part in a discussion of the 
 question : Should Homer be taught in the Pre- 
 paratory School?" Words dictated in his illness 
 in answer to this request, give us his ripest views 
 as a teacher of the Greek language and literature. 
 "Though there have been important changes in 
 recent years, yet Greek is still studied in the pre- 
 paratory schools more for its orthographical forms 
 than for its literature. After the forms have been 
 so far ^mastered as to permit, let facility and ele- 
 gance of translation be insisted on rather than 
 
microscopic dissection of the words. This may 
 seem heresy to some ; but it is the resuh of long 
 experience and much reflection. What is called 
 the Dr. Taylor method of teaching I do not be- 
 lieve in. I was trained in it most thoroughly, and 
 for years, as a teacher, tried to follow it with faith ; 
 but it was in vain. I am sure it was not the best 
 way. It seems to me vastly more important that 
 the academy boy should have unfolded to him the 
 grandeur, the pictorial beauty, and the exquisite 
 word-painting of Homer than that he should 
 know all about the dialect and have every enclitic 
 at his tongue's end. It is desirable to know both, 
 but the first is the more so. * * And my im- 
 pression is that in all but the most advanced work 
 in Greek, we should study it for its literature 
 rather than as a branch of philology. A very 
 small proportion of the graduates from our High 
 Schools, our Academies, and our Colleges ever 
 become professional scholars; most of them have 
 to devote their lives to getting a living, and if we 
 use up the limited time allotted to this matchless 
 literature in examining it page by page and line 
 by line with a microscope, we not only cause a 
 distaste for the work, but give the students so 
 little of that which is admirable that they emerge 
 with such a modicum of culture and knowledge 
 that they do not appreciate the loss of the one, 
 and are glad to forget the other." 
 
22 
 
 In this article he tells of his own method of 
 teaching the Odyssey ; of the time ordinarily 
 given to forms and grammar used in putting the 
 Greek into the best English, and in " trying to as- 
 certain why the poems of Homer are so much ad- 
 mired ; " of the marking out of collateral reading 
 from Matthew Arnold, Symonds, and other En- 
 glish writers on Greek literature ; of the study of 
 the geography descriptive and physical, '* of cer- 
 tain matters in archaeology, especially everything 
 connected with art as evinced in Homer ;" of his 
 own reading to the class of '' striking scenes " 
 outside of their lessons ; of a formal debate on 
 the Homeric question, and the arousing of in- 
 terest in '' defending the authorship of the 
 poems." 
 
 In a public tribute, a recent graduate has told 
 how the time of one recitation was given to 
 the reading of slang translations, as prepared by 
 members of the class in Aristophanes ; and he 
 adds, *'I venture to say we caught more of the spirit 
 of Attic comedy, in that one hour, than we could 
 have in weeks construing into the unnatural 
 English sometimes insisted on." St. Augustine 
 said of teaching, *' a golden key which does not 
 fit is useless, a wooden key which does is every- 
 thing." So Professor Mather evidently thought; 
 
 Broad himself in his many sympathies, he had 
 
23 
 
 an especial dread of narrowness. He felt that 
 the tendency of the age was too well typified in 
 one who, as Frederic Robertson tells us, could see 
 nothing of interest in a great Cathedral town, 
 except the doors of the houses, because the father, 
 who had been a builder, had taught the child to 
 observe only such work. To Professor Mather's 
 desire to provide an influence that should help 
 counteract the selfish intensity and narrow ab- 
 sorption of business and professional life, we 
 owe largely his lectures on art. In their prepa- 
 ration he recognized that, as a rule, lecturing and 
 teaching are not the same processes. The lect- 
 urer has to do with the class ; the teacher, with the 
 individual. The lecturer contributes information; 
 the teacher stimulates and trains the mind. So 
 that whatever may be the place of the lecturer in 
 the university, the great work of the college is 
 to be done by the teacher. Therefore, his lect- 
 ures on art, as on German history and literature, 
 are more of the popular type by which we are 
 taught than of the scholastic form from which 
 we may simply learn something. In what he had 
 to say there was much of value purely as instruc- 
 tion. But all this would have been in vain, if 
 pure and ennobling sympathies had not been 
 awakened to guard the soul against evil passions 
 and sordid influences. To make young men in- 
 
telligent about art, its principles and achieve- 
 ments, was but a means to an end. And that end 
 was to quicken a sense of the beautiful, to call 
 into life and joyful vigor emotions, tastes, aspi- 
 rations, that would help to refine, purify, sweeten, 
 and broaden all the years to come. 
 
 Well has it been said that '* contact with an in- 
 spiring and magnetic teacher is one of the chief 
 goods which Heaven bestows upon us in the 
 spring-time of life." How great then is the debt 
 of Amherst College to a teacher so enthusiastic 
 and invigorating as was Professor Mather for 
 more than thirty years ! 
 
 Nor is the debt now unrecognized. Alumni of 
 all periods, not a few from places of high in- 
 fluence, send such acknowledgments as are found 
 in the eloquent words of Professor Adams of 
 Johns Hopkins University: — " Professor Mather 
 will always be remembered by his students 
 as an enthusiastic apostle of Greek thought. 
 He taught not the mere technique of language or 
 of art, but rather the appreciation of noble ideals 
 of freedom, beauty, truth, justice, honor, and 
 manhood, — ideals at once Greek and Christian. 
 For him the first sunlight from the East which 
 touched the uplifted spear of Athenae Promachos 
 was the sunshine of righteousness. Graduates 
 of Amherst College who once read with him the 
 
25 
 
 story of those old wars with Persia, and who 
 heard his splendid English version of the Greek 
 dramatists of that second heroic age, will never 
 lorget the glorified vision of Greek liberty dawn- 
 ing upon Athens, and, from Athens and Flor- 
 ence, upon the Western world. The classical 
 student whose range hitherto had been limited to 
 parsing and scanning, was taught to discover a 
 wider intellectual horizon and to perceive the true 
 relation of Greek liberty to modern life. Professor 
 Mather saw, as clearly as did the great poets and 
 teachers before him, that the struggle for freedom 
 and truth and justice in the world is by no means 
 ended ; that the children of light must continue 
 their conflict with material forces and against 
 numerical odds as did the Greeks of old. But he 
 rejoiced in things won and done. Like the runner 
 who brought good news to Athens of victory at 
 Marathon, Professor Mather was a herald of pre- 
 liminary battle already fought by classical scholars 
 in America. He shared the fight ; he brought the 
 tidings; and like Pheidippides, that hero whose 
 image in relief now stands in the Art Gallery at 
 Amherst, this messenger of Greek liberty and 
 Greek culture gave up his life before his stor)' 
 was fairly told. Upon the acropolis of Amherst 
 College the Art Idea of Professor Mather will 
 survive and be his living monument. 
 
26 
 
 " Sb is Pheidippides happy forever, — the noble strong man 
 Who could race like a God, bear the face of a God, whom 
 
 a God loved so well. 
 He saw the land saved he had helped to save, and was 
 
 suffered to tell 
 Such tidings, yet never decline, but gloriously as he began 
 So to end gloriously — once to shout, thereafter be mute : 
 * Athens is saved ! ' Pheidippides dies in the shout for his 
 meed." 
 
Ill 
 
 Y I NDIVIDED as was Professor Mather in his 
 \^ loyalty to teaching, yet the world at large 
 mourns him to-day as a preacher. Nor as 
 we have seen without cause. Says one whose 
 opinion is authoritative : '' It is hard to think of a 
 vacant pulpit in his own denomination so prom- 
 ipent that he would not have been thought 
 worthy of it could he have been obtained." 
 Not analytic or speculative, with no attempt 
 to be profound or exhaustive, avoiding all sub- 
 tilties and abstractions, he presented simple, 
 accepted truths with perfect clearness and 
 winning force. Never dull for a moment, but in 
 treatment of theme fresh, vigorous, and pictur- 
 esque, he caught the attention with the opening 
 sentence and held it to the last. If his style was 
 finely wrought, the appearance of art was lost in 
 its ease and grace. Nor was the sermon without 
 some practical end in view. A message for the 
 day and hour, it was sent home to the heart and 
 life with a directness and an earnestness always 
 
28 
 
 forcible, and often highly eloquent. Without the 
 depth of suggestion, the height of inspiration, and 
 range of comprehensiveness, which some demand, 
 his preaching had perhaps, because of these defi- 
 ciencies, a wider usefulness and more popular 
 power. 
 
 He had the physical basis and the temperament 
 of the orator. Writes one^* who knew him well, 
 "Tides of feeling rolled over him naturally when 
 he came to write or speak." To this emotional 
 force were added a voice clear, flexible, expres- 
 sive, an action peculiarly animated and graceful, 
 and a delivery spirited and magnetic. Yet the 
 secret of his power as a preacher lies deeper than 
 in these things. " Behind the orator,'* says Emer- 
 son, "is the man;" and so behind the preacher is 
 the Christian. Of godly ancestr)^ and training, at 
 eight years of age a Christian by conscious pur- 
 pose, four years later making public profession 
 of that purpose, his religious life was from first 
 to last wholly natural. When he came to the 
 critical moment of his illness, and was to face 
 an operation the issue of which the most dis- 
 tinguished surgical skill could not foresee, he 
 asked first to engage in prayer. And what a 
 prayer it was! Not of nervous apprehension, 
 not a plea for life ; but the simple, natural 
 expression of a man accustomed to talk with God 
 
 *The Rev. James G. Vose, D. D., Providence, R. I. 
 
29 
 
 in all that concerned his ways. With voice calm 
 and clear and manner perfectly composed, he gave 
 thanks for the skill that could relieve pain ; asked 
 a blessing upon those who were to exercise that 
 skill; and closed with only a minor petition for 
 himself. When men come to such places, and 
 unconsciously reveal a faith so childlike, we know 
 that there has been nothing assumed or formal in 
 their walk with God. 
 
 In the last sermon which he preached, speaking 
 of Christian character he says : "If we have it all 
 ready for the emergencies of life, it will be because 
 we have accumulated it before." Little did he 
 think how noble an illustration of this truth he 
 was so soon to give. The first sermon that I 
 heard Professor Mather preach was when I was 
 preparing for College. In the sermon he told of 
 the peace that is found in Christ, especially in the 
 struggles of life. The sermon has never been 
 forgotten; surely not as I stood by his open 
 grave. Yet the thought on that April afternoon, 
 was not so much of the unbroken peace now to 
 be forever his; as of the gentleness and serenity 
 of spirit with which in the months of his bitter 
 conflict, he had emphasized every word of the 
 sermon, preached with such earnestness, years 
 before. 
 
 **Ah, how shall I speak of Professor Mather as a 
 
30 
 
 Christian?" says the friend* who from college days, 
 next to his own family, had known him in the 
 closest intimacy. ** The sweetest and best note 
 of all was struck here. In noway, in my judg- 
 ment was his influence more continuous and 
 healthful. He was an apostle of a cheerful Chris- 
 tianity. His very presence dissipated all the 
 vapors of a morbid self-consciousness. It was 
 like a west wind from the Delectable mountains 
 — a tonic for all souls depressed by the shadows 
 of an introspective habit. He believed God, 
 took him at his word, accepted his promises im- 
 pHcitly, — rested upon them. None had a clearer 
 conception of the Fatherhood of God, made 
 known through the Brotherhood of the Son of 
 Man. I doubt if his spiritual horizon was often 
 clouded. It was because of this clear view of an 
 established and unchangeable relation, that he 
 could with such calm and sweet and wonder- 
 ful resignation, lay down all hopes, all plans, his 
 consciousness of well-equipped powers of useful- 
 ness at their highest point — all without a murmur 
 or scarce a sigh at that Father's call ; call to so 
 many of us less clear-sighted, less trustful, how 
 mysterious, how untimely ! 
 
 His own words, spoken late in his illness to his 
 pastor, when asked to send some message to the 
 
 *Mr. Edward A. Strong, Trustee of Amherst College. 
 
31 
 meeting on the Day of Prayer for Colleges are 
 known to many of you ; but we shall all be the 
 better for hearing them again. **If I were to say 
 anything to the students, it would be this — in- 
 deed I would like to say this — that the Christian 
 life for me has been an endeavor to follow after 
 righteousness, not in my own strength but in that 
 of my Heavenly Father. I am very conscious of 
 weakness, failure, and sin, but I accept forgive- 
 ness through Christ who is also my example and 
 inspiration." 
 
IV 
 
 MORE direct study of Professor Mather's 
 characteristics turns our thought first 
 to the strength of his physical resources. 
 Behind that cheery presence and sunny, inspiring 
 nature was, for almost a lifetime, unbroken good 
 health. The work that would have soon crushed 
 an ordinary constitution, his splendid vitality and 
 great natural powers of endurance permitted him to 
 do with enjoyment. Six days of the week often 
 doing double service in helping some colleague, 
 teaching art as well as Greek, lecturing in neigh- 
 boring villages, editing books, preparing sermons 
 and lectures ; the seventh day found him, most of 
 the time, at some wearisome distance preaching 
 with a freshness and a vigor only to be expected 
 after a long vacation. 
 
 But in aiding him bear so easily his constant 
 and heavy burdens, how well did his mental gifts 
 second his physical powers! Quick, clear, and 
 versatile in mind, not only did he adjust himself 
 readily to different kinds of work, but he made 
 
33 
 the change serve as rest and recreation. No time 
 was lost in mistaking the accidental for the es- 
 sential. What should be done, and what left un- 
 done, he seemed to know by instinct. No less 
 dexterous was he in finding the surest, shortest 
 way to do the thing desirable to be done. Not 
 given to broad generalizations, his mind 
 moved in straight lines toward a definite end. He 
 indulged in no super-refinements of thought. 
 The vague and abstract he disliked; and aided by 
 his unusual power of comparison he sought to 
 give all his conceptions substance, form, color. 
 
 With the philosophic side of the Greek mind 
 he was not in sympathy, yet few men not of the 
 Greek race have been more so in the aesthetic 
 element. The Greek's love of the beautiful, his 
 fine adaptation of means to ends, his nice sense 
 of proportion and power of limitation for the 
 sake of proportion, were all Professor Mather's. 
 He had also much of the sprightliness, fertility, 
 and acuteness of the Greek mind. Nor was he 
 wholly without resemblance to the social side of 
 the Greek. In his fresh and youthful spirit, his 
 delicate sensitiveness, his ease and delight in con- 
 versation, his love of raillery and sportiveness of 
 speech; and in that peculiarity of the Greek, as 
 one of the ancients tells us, *' to conceal noth- 
 ing," he was kindred to the people whose words 
 and works were the study of his life. 
 
34 
 
 And yet, if he were In these characteristics a 
 Greek, must we not say of him, as has been said 
 of one of our most noted men of letters — that he 
 was a Greek- Yankee ? And what answer is 
 there to the charge that Greek culture necessari- 
 ly weakens practical force better than the memory 
 of his life, one in spirit as It was with the art and 
 literature of ancient Greece, and yet with an en- 
 terprise, a sagacity, an energy, an executive skill, 
 that in the business world of to-day would have 
 made him one of its kings ? 
 
 But this practical efficiency was not merely an 
 intellectual product. Moral traits and habits gave 
 largely to its power. Not only did he know how 
 to do things, but he did them as a man who saw 
 in them a duty. Thus, he was prompt, industrious, 
 faithful. Punctual to every appointment, he was 
 also Impatient at any delay in beginning a good 
 work. *'Why wait, why not now?" was his fre- 
 quent question when any reform or improvement 
 was suggested. 
 
 Of his Industry no eulogy could be so eloquent 
 as the simple statement of the work which 
 he did. But a single example in one line of 
 labor must suffice. His lectures on Sculpture 
 comprise three closely written volumes, or 469 
 pages of large letter-paper size ; those on Greek 
 life, three volumes, or 351 pages ; and those more 
 
35 
 recently prepared in extending the course, two 
 volumes, or 305 pages. To accompany these lect- 
 ures he had carefully planned or collected illus- 
 trations, in the way of drawings and photo- 
 graphs, to a number that goes high into 
 the hundreds. No mention is made of the 
 time and effort given to the getting of funds 
 and the gathering of the general Art Collection, 
 nor of additional hours of instruction, and the large 
 and constantly increasing correspondence from all 
 parts of the country incited by the reputation of 
 the department, other than to say that in itself it 
 was one man's full measure of work. 
 
 As faithful as he was industrious, new occupa- 
 tions displaced no old and regular duty. Atten- 
 tion to Greek art, therefore, did not with him 
 mean neglect of Greek literature. In the same 
 period that the Art Gallery is growing under his 
 hands, he is editing his selections of Herodotus,and 
 Thucydides, and preparing his edition of Sopho- 
 cles' Electra, and ^schylus' "Prometheus Bound," 
 — scholarly works now in wide and successful 
 use. And so his full devotion to teaching 
 never suffered by his success in preaching. From 
 the student in Greek he expected a preparation 
 of two hours for each exercise. The same time 
 for preparation in some form he always exacted 
 of himself. Do we not here discover one source 
 
36 
 
 of that interest and stimulus, of which every 
 alumnus writes who recalls his recitations ? 
 
 This same spirit of faithfulness appeared in 
 him as the college officer. A man peculiarly sen- 
 sitive to any manifestation of dislike, to whom the 
 good will of others was very dear, and who more 
 than most teachers valued a student's affection ; 
 he was always willing to be responsible for an un- 
 popular course of action when convinced that the 
 best interests of the college so demanded. 
 
 He was faithful as a citizen. Not only was he 
 deeply interested in whatever was for Amherst's 
 prosperity and attractiveness, but how promptly 
 and liberally he responded to calls for help out- 
 side of his own community. How he rode over 
 these hills to give the best that he had in lecture 
 or sermon, irrespective of the measure of compen- 
 sation, often for none at all. 
 
 It was this same faithfulness that in the winter 
 months of his illness, made him wish to hear at 
 his house his class in Greek. Not to be able to 
 meet this class was to him a sad disappointment. 
 All larger plans for the future had been laid upon 
 the altar. Now one hope remained, — the hope to 
 teach to the end, or as he said, **to die 
 in the harness." And, may we not add 
 that his wish was granted. Not as his faith- 
 ful spirit had planned, but as God willed. 
 
Z7 
 For as the students waited, day by day, for a 
 message from his sick room only to hear with each 
 report, how the beloved teacher was translating 
 his unspeakable trial and struggle into the might 
 of the loyal, trustful spirit, a lesson was taught 
 that the dullest nature among us could not fail to 
 reverence. And as God shall call any of us, in 
 days to come, to serve as we ''stand and wait" in 
 some great sorrow of soul or pain of body, what 
 a rallying to manly obedience, to heroic endur- 
 ance, will there be in the remembrance of his 
 example. 
 
 A personal quality that especially distinguished 
 Professor Mather was his naturalness. How this 
 was a characteristic of his religious life, we have 
 seen. It was the same in all relations. Open as 
 the day in speech and action, he expressed the 
 feelings of the moment. The thought as it came 
 to him, you had without reserve. Man of the 
 world as he was in many ways, he was at heart a 
 child. Sagacious, practical he was also impul- 
 sive, demonstrative. This made his nature appar- 
 ently complex, and not always understood. One 
 with this characteristic may now and then seem 
 inconsistent. To some it will also be thought to 
 indicate lack of power ; for the stream is so clear 
 that the unpractised eye does not recognize its 
 depth. Nor did this element in Professor Mather 
 
38 
 
 permit him always to understand others, even 
 some of his truest friends. A reticence of speech 
 upon certain subjects, a silence about the deeper 
 emotions which some sacredly observe, he could 
 not always rightly interpret. Neither had he at 
 all times the poise that marks natures less spon- 
 taneous. But how immeasurable would have been 
 the loss had he sacrificed this quality; for to this 
 he owed largely his brightness, freshness, ardor, 
 enthusiasm. This made him socially so enjoy- 
 able. This enlivened his home with the spirit of 
 banter and playfulness ; and made his intercourse 
 with his children so beautiful, resembling that of a 
 brother more than that of a parent. This gave him 
 the hearty appreciation and its frank expression, 
 that caused all companions to remember 
 him as a delightful traveller. So uncon- 
 scious was he in his enthusiasm in recogniz- 
 ing places of classic interest, when approaching 
 Greece on his last visit, that before he knew it he 
 had drawn to him almost every English-speaking 
 tourist on the boat. This it was that gave him 
 easy contact with so many sides of life, and has 
 left for him wherever he has been, even only for 
 a day, some friend or admirer; for it was the one 
 touch "that makes the whole world kin." But in 
 his deeper life, as we have seen, it was far more 
 than this It was that ''one touch of nature" 
 
39 
 
 sanctified by the spirit of Him who said of the 
 Httle child, ''of such is the Kingdom of God." 
 
 The personal quality, however, that should 
 most claim our attention was his unselfishness. 
 Speaking of a man's unselfishness one may be 
 easily misunderstood. Selfishness is so obtrusive 
 as rarely to escape full recognition. Unselfishness 
 is more like a river flowing underneath the sur- 
 face, but here and there coming to the light for 
 the cheer and invigoration of all around it. 
 Broadly speaking, the two elements are found in 
 every man. To say, therefore, whether a life is 
 selfish or unselfish, is to say which element pre- 
 dominates. The review thus far made of Profes- 
 sor Mather's life, leaves no question on which side 
 it is to be placed. But the full measure of his 
 unselfishness, we may not so readily see. The 
 relations in which it was revealed in all its sweet- 
 ness and tenderness are too sacred for our theme. 
 The home life where the first thought was always 
 for every one else and never for himself, could 
 tell us; but here we must not enter. Friendships 
 rivaling brotherly affection, with natures so rare 
 and fine that, like the spear of Ithuriel, they would 
 at first touch have laid bare the meaner, baser life 
 whose central thought is self, could tell us how 
 unselfish was his spirit; but such voices are not 
 for our ears to-day. The young men who have 
 
40 
 
 made their way into life through his helpful 
 influence, who have felt the clasp of his generous 
 hand in time of pressing want, to whom if he 
 gave a garment it was one as good as he would 
 buy for himself, could tell us; but they would 
 guard his memory as delicately as he met their 
 need. 
 
 But it has been said that two periods of life 
 uncover the inner nature, however cleverly the 
 real life has been concealed before ; one, extreme 
 old age ; the other, severe illness of long du- 
 ration. And what a revelation of Professor Math- 
 er's spirit comes to us from such an illness, as it 
 tells of him, sending out from that chamber his 
 thought and interest wherever there was the least 
 possible claim upon his sympathy ; as eager to know 
 the result of the last town-meeting as when in 
 health, and with years of life apparently before him; 
 keeping himself informed of everything that con- 
 cerned the college ; urging those dear to him not 
 to exclude themselves from what was bright and 
 pleasant outside the sick room ; grateful for every 
 attention from friends, and never forgetting in the 
 most excruciating pain, the ** thank you " for the 
 slightest service of the attendant; and when 
 conscious of the beginning of the end, putting 
 aside all plans of life, and contenting himself with 
 the remembrance, as he said, '*of the things that 
 he had tried to do that make for righteousness." 
 
41 
 And yet this was only another revelation of the 
 same unselfish spirit that had shown itself in all 
 the years of his devotion to the college. Of this 
 spirit can be mentioned no more signal proof 
 than his generous estimate of his associates. No 
 man serving the college as a means of personal 
 ambition, and particularly a man of the open, im- 
 pulsive nature of Professor Mather, could train 
 himself to speak of the good work and personal 
 qualities of his colleagues so warmly and so freely 
 as did he whenever occasion permitted. How hearty 
 was his admiration of the noble wisdom and rare 
 power that guide this institution ; how appreci- 
 ative was he of the ripe and earnest scholarship 
 that presides over the department of a sister lan- 
 guage; how ready his recognition of the calm 
 strength of another colleague, the warm heart and 
 rich usefulness of another; and so on, leaving no 
 quality, no effort, no sign of promise, that looked 
 toward Amherst's advancement in any direction, 
 without his enthusiastic commendation. Never 
 jealous or envious, he rejoiced in every forward 
 step taken by any other department. Indeed, 
 the quickest way to his esteem was to do some- 
 thing helpful to the college. "The victory of 
 Miltiades," perhaps * 'would not suffer him to sleep." 
 But if the stimulus of another's activity bent 
 him with a new energy to his work, it was not to 
 
42 
 
 surpass an associate but to make his department 
 worthier of the college. 
 
 Upon the quantity or quality of his work outside 
 of his department, we need not dwell. What we 
 would emphasize was the disinterestedness of his 
 services. ''Of Professor Mather's whole-souled 
 devotion to the college," writes one, who not only 
 knew his heart as an open book but had wide, 
 practical knowledge of what he did, *'it was his 
 passion. Remember, most of his life was spent 
 in Amherst, even a large part of his boyhood, 
 either there or in its immediate vicinity. He 
 grew up, familiar with the traditions of self-sacri- 
 ficing lives given to the institution. He saw such 
 lives lived every day. He drank in the spirit in 
 the very air. The last time I was with Professor 
 Mather for free and unrestrained converse, in 
 September, 1889, he told me, that, next to his 
 own family and kindred, his thought and love 
 were for Amherst College. He was, even then, 
 on an errand of business for the college, in the 
 interests of a department not his own, and his 
 alert mind was full of plans for advancing the 
 scheme in hand. The Greek and the Art Depart- 
 ment and his power to serve in outside ways, 
 constituted his life's joy, and were enough for 
 him." In words as unquestionable, the President 
 and Treasurer of the college whom he consulted 
 
43 
 in his various efforts, testify of the pure, disinter- 
 ested spirit which always marked his labors. Said 
 a prominent member of the Board of Trustees of 
 another college, looking for a President, a few 
 years ago: *'In my opinion Professor Mather is 
 the man who, in every way, is best qualified for 
 the position. I know of but one objection. He 
 so loves Amherst College that would he even 
 consent to come to us, I am afraid his heart would 
 not keep him company." 
 
 And yet can we speak more in his spirit 
 than when we ask, what in turn was his debt to the 
 college? If no greater blessing can come to a 
 man than time and place to do noble things, then 
 was Amherst College a blessing to Professor 
 Mather. It took him out of himself, and made 
 all that he could do, and all that he could become, 
 a gain for larger interests than individual success. 
 It was an open door to unselfish service. Again, 
 it unified his life. Here all his activities found a 
 common centre. It spurred him to the highest 
 attainments, the richest culture, the noblest man- 
 hood; and then gave him the opportunity for conse- 
 crated use of all that he had struggled for and 
 won. It took his many brilliant gifts that with a 
 selfish aim would have gone out in darkness, like 
 a whirl of sparks, and centred them all in that 
 bright, unquenchable flame whose mission is, as 
 its legend tells us, " to enlighten the lands." 
 
44 
 
 We have now to speak of a characteristic 
 that all may not recognize. Professor Mather 
 was so energetic in spirit, so earnest and cour- 
 ageous'in the advocacy of what he conceived to be 
 right, that he was perhaps thought to have large 
 confidence in himself. But not often did he look 
 upon the results of his work with favor. Search- 
 ing as was his eye for the defects of a student's 
 performance, he was more exacting in judging 
 the faults of his own. His aim was so high that 
 he could not easily believe that he had reached 
 the mark. Thus, he found the pleasant assurance 
 of others grateful and helpful. In the pulpit so 
 spontaneous and general was the response, that 
 he felt here a confidence not habitual in the class- 
 room. Nor is this ground for criticism. Had 
 mere technical accuracy, or even large scholarship 
 of visible measurement, been his object, it would 
 not have been so dififtcult to assure him of the re- 
 sult. But when a teacher has for his aim what Pro- 
 fessor Mather said had been his, " manhood, gen- 
 uineness, breadth and variety of character, sweet 
 and tender sympathies," he cannot well have the 
 certainty of results that are measured by the per- 
 centage of examination papers. 
 
 A friend writes of him as ''sangulnely earnest." 
 Yes, he was sanguinely earnest, but it was in the 
 motive of his work that his earnestness and hope 
 
45 
 had their spring and force. Once, when evident- 
 ly speaking from the depths of his heart, while 
 forced to consider a call to another field of work, 
 he said : '' Could I believe it possible for me to 
 do for these boys what I wish to do, my thoughts 
 would not be turned from Amherst, for a moment; 
 but I do not seem able to do it." Yet the next 
 day, and every day as long as he taught, he was 
 striving toward his goal as earnestly as though he 
 had never questioned reaching it. Among the 
 human compensations of his long illness were 
 the touching assurances, that, in face of his 
 doubts, he had done largely what he supremely 
 wished to do. Here a letter from one now a power 
 in the world, telling of what an inspiration this 
 teacher had been to him ; here another, recalling 
 little kindnesses of more than a score of years 
 ago ; here another, recognizing the moulding in- 
 fluence of the Greek class-room that had been 
 felt all through life. What a ray of cheer, letters 
 and words like these must have sent into the dark 
 valley through which he was passing. It was as 
 a promise of the full reward of the eternal day so 
 soon to break upon his vision. 
 
'77 ND now, as we near the close of his life, 
 Jl the impression that it was a favored life 
 qJ deepens ! Favored it certainly was 
 
 in its natural gifts of health and vigor; in 
 a happy, enthusiastic temperament; in a mind 
 brilliant and versatile; in fine and apprecia- 
 tive tastes, wide sympathies, and charm of 
 social power; and best of all in an inherited 
 moral force and religious spirit. Favored 
 it also was in parentage, in the home of his child- 
 hood, in the wise hand and strong mind that 
 shaped his youthful education ; in the later train- 
 ing of Williston and Amherst, with opportunities 
 for travel and foreign study ; in finding his life- 
 work in the glow and strength of early manhood ; 
 in the stimulus which that life-work gave to every 
 aptitude, to the beneficent use of his varied 
 powers, and to the full enlistment of his heart in 
 its service ; in his extended circle of admiring 
 acquaintance, and choicer group of devoted 
 friends; in his beautiful home and those who 
 
47 
 made it more than all the rest of the world to 
 him; in his increasing usefulness and growing 
 honors with every year. And, twelve months 
 ago, as with ripened powers enriched through 
 recent travel, study, and leisure, he was again 
 laboring with us, what new and larger chapters 
 telling of far more valuable work and wider range 
 of activities, promised still to be added. 
 
 Yet because the sequel is not as we had planned 
 for him, shall we say that the life was no longer 
 favored ? It is not for us to interpret the myster- 
 ies of God. Why these disappointments, why this 
 summons to face for months with open eye the 
 inevitable end, why now the call hence when 
 never before so largely ready for consecrated ser- 
 vice, is not for us to say. But neither is it for us 
 to forget that the seeming blow which staggered 
 us even as we only saw it fall upon him, was one 
 to which he bowed as to a blessing. During his 
 illness, he was often heard saying slowly and 
 solemnly, **Lord, make me to know mine end, 
 and the measure of my days, what it is, that I 
 may know how frail I am ;" at times, adding the 
 opening verses of the first Psalm. And as we 
 think of the description of the godly man : ''And 
 he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of 
 water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season ; 
 his leaf also shall not wither, and whatsoever he 
 
48 
 
 doeth shall prosper," may we not imagine that could 
 our friend speak to us, it would be to say, "pause 
 not at twelve months ago, but write, mine was 
 through the grace of God a favored life to the 
 very end?" Surely we must so write, unless we 
 thrust our own doubt and disappointment into 
 the place of his resignation and faith. For with 
 a spirit born of God, this patient sufferer took 
 what were to us only blighted hopes, painful 
 struggle, and weariness unutterable, and trans- 
 formed them into jewels for his crown of glory. 
 And so speaking in this same spirit in which for 
 months he lived, he would now tell us, that the 
 life that in its ending seemed to us like a broken 
 pillar, an unroofed house, a ship going down in 
 mid-sea, had in it no disaster, nothing of incom- 
 pleteness, but an order, a meaning, a beauty, 
 that were divinely perfect. 
 
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